Studies in Hellenistic Architecture 9781442657595

Table of contents :
Contents
Illustrations
Preface
Introduction
1. Temples and Sanctuaries
2. Entranceways
3. Stoas in Later Greek Architecture
4. Tombs and Commemorative Monuments
5. Theatres and Stadia
6. Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths
7. Covered Halls and Storehouses
8. Residential Architecture
9. The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily
10. Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: The Role of Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design
11. From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times
Conclusion
Abbreviations Used in Notes
Notes
Illustrations
Index

Citation preview

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

PHOENIX Journal of the Classical Association of Canada Revue de la Soci´et´e canadienne des e´ tudes classiques Supplementary Volume XLII Tome suppl´ementaire XLII

FREDERICK E. WINTER

STUDIES IN HELLENISTIC ARCHITECTURE

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo

London

© University of Toronto Press Incorporated 2006 Toronto Buffalo London Printed in Canada ISBN-13: 978-0-8020-3914-9 ISBN-10: 0-8020-3914-6

Printed on acid-free paper

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Winter, Frederick E. Studies in Hellenistic Architecture / Frederick E. Winter (Phoenix. Supplementary volume ; 42) ISBN 0-8020-3914-6 1. Architecture, Hellenistic. I. Title. II. Series: Phoenix. Supplementary volume (Toronto, Ont.) ; 42. NA270.W56 2006

722'.8

C2004-906397-9

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, through the Aid to Scholarly Publications Programme, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP).

IN MEMORIAM

H.B. Gooding, A.R.V. Newsam, L.A. Walcott my first teachers in Classics W.D. Woodhead, E.T. Owen, Gilbert Norwood from whom I learned so much about ancient Greek literature Gilbert Bagnani who guided me through the wonders of ancient Rome Homer Thompson and Eugene Vanderpool who introduced me to the Greek archaeological heritage William Bell Dinsmoor, Sr to whose work students of ancient Greek architecture will always be deeply indebted

This page intentionally left blank

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ix PREFACE

xxxi

Introduction

3 5

1. Temples and Sanctuaries

A. From the Later Fifth Century to the Time of Alexander the Great 5 B. From Alexander the Great to the Late Hellenistic Period 9 2. Entranceways

34 50

3. Stoas in Later Greek Architecture

A. The Development of Stoas 51 B. The Columnar Orders in Stoa Architecture 65 4. Tombs and Commemorative Monuments by Janos Fedak 5. Theatres and Stadia

96

A. Theatres 96 B. Stadia 111 6. Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths 115 7. Covered Halls and Storehouses

135

A. Covered Assembly Halls 135 B. Arsenals and Storehouses 149 8. Residential Architecture

157

71

viii

Contents

9. The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily

183

10. Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: The Role of Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design 207 11. From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times 219 Conclusion

235

A. Hellenistic Architects, Engineers, and Technical Writers 235 B. The Creativity of the Hellenistic Age 244

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS USED IN NOTES 251 NOTES 275 ILLUSTRATIONS 331 INDEX 437

ILLUSTRATIONS

PLATE 1 333 1 Priene, plan of the temple of Athena Polias (Hoepfner/Schwandner, Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern, 1990) 2 Priene, temple and altar of Athena from the acropolis 3 Priene, remains of the entablature of the temple of Athena, now in Berlin 4a Priene, restored drawing of the NE corner of the Athena temple (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 4b Priene, restored drawing of the entablature of the Athena temple (Wiegand and Schrader, Priene, Berlin, Georg Reimer, 1904) PLATE 2 334 5 Ephesos, plan of the Hellenistic Artemision and altar (Bammer, Die Architektur des j ungeren ¨ Artemision von Ephesos, Wiesbaden, F. Steiner, 1972) 6 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, sculptured pedestal in the British Museum 7 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, sculptured column drum in the British Museum 8 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, restored drawing of corner (Krischen, Die griechische Stadt, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1938) PLATE 3 335 9 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, Hellenistic capital in the British Museum 10 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, fourth-century capital in the British Museum 11 Ephesos, Hellenistic Artemision, restored drawing of entablature (Bammer, Die Architektur des jungere Artemision von Ephesos, Wiesbaden, F. Steiner, 1972) ¨ 12 Thermon, plan of the sanctuary of Apollo (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) PLATE 4 336 13 Lykosoura, plan of the sanctuary of the Mistress (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 14 Lykosoura, temple of the Mistress from the S 15 Dodona, plan of the sanctuary of Zeus and adjoining areas (Gruben, Die Tempel der Griechen, 3rd ed., Munich, Hirmer, 1980)

x

Illustrations

16 Delos, plan, section, and details of the Hall of the Bulls (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) PLATE 5 337 17 Delos, view of the Hall of the Bulls 18 Delos, restored drawing of the Monument of Mithridates (Chapouthier, Exploration arch´eologique de ´ D´elos 16, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1935) 19a Delphi, Monument of Aristaineta (Courby, Fouilles de Delphes 2, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1927) 19b Delphi, Monuments of Prusias and Aemilius Paullus (Courby, Fouilles de Delphes 2, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1927) 20 Kastabos, temple of Hemithea, schema of proportions (Cook and Plommer, The Sanctuary of Hemithea at Kastabos, Cambridge University Press, 1966) PLATE 6 338 21 Klaros, general view of the temple of Apollo 22 Klaros, temple of Apollo, transverse arches of the crypt 23 Didyma, plan of the Hellenistic temple of Apollo (Knackfuss, Didyma I, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1940) 24 Didyma, temple of Apollo from the east PLATE 7 339 25 Didyma, temple of Apollo, view of the interior court from the west 26 Didyma, temple of Apollo, cross-section of the E end of the interior court (Knackfuss, Didyma I, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1940) 27 Didyma, temple of Apollo, vault of tunnel from pronaos to interior court 28 Didyma, drawing of Corinthian half-capital from E facade of interior court (Dinsmoor, Architecture of Ancient Greece, London, Batsford, 1950) PLATE 8 340 29 Lindos, general plan of the sanctuary of Athena Lindia (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 30a Lindos, temple of Athena Lindia, drawing of the facade (Dyggve, Lindos III, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1960) 30b Lindos, temple of Athena Lindia, partially rebuilt facade (Dyggve, Lindos III, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1960) 31 Samothrace, Hieron of the Great Gods, external view of the apse 32 Teos, plan of the temple and precinct of Dionysos (Mustafa Uz, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern, 1990) PLATE 9 341 33 Messa, plan of the temple of Aphrodite (Hoepfner, in Hermogenes und diehochhellenistische Architektur, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern, 1990) 34 Messa, view of the temple of Aphrodite 35 Messa, Ionic order of the temple of Aphrodite (Koldcewey, Die antiken Baureste der Insel Lesbos, Berlin, Georg Reimer, 1890) 36 Chryse, plan of the Smintheion (Hoepfner, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern, 1990)

Illustrations

xi

PLATE 10 342 37 38 39 40

Chryse, Ionic order of the Smintheion restored (Society of Dilettanti, Antiquities of Ionia 4) Chryse, sculptured top column-drum of the Smintheion Chryse, drawing of an Ionic capital of the Smintheion (Antiquities of Ionia 4) Magnesia, plan of the temple of Artemis Leukophryene (Hoepfner, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern, 1990)

PLATE 11 343 41 Magnesia, temple of Artemis Leukophryene, view of ruins from NW 42 Magnesia, drawing of the Ionic order of the temple of Artemis (Humann, Magnesia am M¨aander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 43 Magnesia, remains of the entablature of the temple of Artemis, now in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin 44 Magnesia, temple of Artemis, group of Ionic capitals still on the site PLATE 12 344 45 Sardis, temple of Artemis, three successive plans (Gruben, AthMitt 76 [1961]) 46 Sardis, temple of Artemis from E 47 Sardis, Artemision, opisthodomos from SW and detail of column on pedestal 48a Sardis, Hellenistic capital of the Artemision 48b Sardis, capitals of the standing eastern columns of the Artemision PLATE 13 345 49 Alabanda, remains of the Doric temple 50 Akragas, temple of Asklepios 51 Paestum, details of the order of the ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple 52 Paestum, details of the order of the ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple PLATE 14 346 53 Labraynda, view of the sanctuary of Zeus from above 54 Alexandria, plan and drawing of the Cape Zephyrion peripteros (Ceccaldi, RevArch 19 [1869]) 55 Letoon near Xanthos, general plan of the sanctuary (Le Roy, RevArch 1974) 56 Xanthos, Nereid Monument, reconstructed in the British Museum PLATE 15 347 57 Letoon near Xanthos, 58 Letoon near Xanthos, 59 Letoon near Xanthos, 60 Letoon near Xanthos,

Buildings E (right) and A (left) from SE Building A from NE Building B from N Building E from N

PLATE 16 348 61 Amyzon, plan of the sanctuary of Apollo and Artemis (Robert, Fouilles d’Amyzon, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1983) 62 Amyzon, remains of the temple 63 Letoon near Xanthos, vaulted entrance to the theatre 64 Alexandria, restored plan of the ancient city (University of Trier, Alexandrien: Aegyptiaca Treverensia I)

xii

Illustrations

PLATE 17 349 65 Alexandria, plan of the excavated portion of the Sarapeion (Rowe/Drioton, Discovery of the Famous Temple and Enclosure of Serapis, L’Institut franc¸ais d’arch´eologie orientale [Suppl´ement aux Annales ´ du Service des Antiquit´es de l’Egypte 2], Cairo, 1946) 66 Megalopolis, plan of the sanctuary of Zeus Soter (Gardner, Excavations at Megalopolis, London, Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies, 1892) 67 Pergamon, the sanctuary of Demeter from above 68 Pergamon, sanctuary of Demeter, plan and restored drawing (displayed on site-plaque, Pergamon) PLATE 18 350 69 Pergamon, detail of model in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin, showing the sanctuary of Athena and the library, with the palaces beyond 70a Pergamon, restored drawing of the Athena temple and terrace as seen from the theatre terrace (Altertumer von Pergamon I, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1885) ¨ 70b Pergamon, view of the temple of Athena from the upper storey of the East Stoa of the precinct 71 Pergamon, propylon of the Athena sanctuary, restored in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin 72 Pergamon, restored drawing of the stoas of the sanctuary of Athena (Altertumer von Pergamon II, ¨ Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin) PLATE 19 351 73 Kos, Asklepieion, view to N from the new Doric temple on the uppermost terrace 74 Kos, Asklepieion, restored drawing of the new Doric temple (Schazmann, Kos I, Berlin, Deutsches Arch¨aologisches Institut, 1932) 75 Lindos, sanctuary of Athena, view from the propylaia of the Athena temple toward the entrance of the Great Harbour 76 Lindos, model of the sanctuary of Athena from the NE (Dyggve, Lindos III, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1960) PLATE 20 352 77 Olympia, general plan of the sanctuary of Zeus and surroundings (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) 78 Olympia, model in the Olympia Museum of the Altis of Zeus and surrounding structures 79 Priene, plan of the temple, altar, and propylon of Athena Polias (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) 80 Priene, Roman Ionic capital from the propylon of Athena Polias, now in the British Museum PLATE 21 353 81 Magnesia, plan and elevation of the propylon from the agora to the precinct of Artemis Leukophryene (Humann, Magnesia am M¨aander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 82 Kos, Asklepieion, restored view (Schazmann, Kos I, Berlin, Deutsches Arch a¨ ologisches Institut, 1932) 83 Ephesos, plan, elevation, and section of the altar of the new Artemision (Bammer, Das Heiligtum der Artemis von Ephesos, Graz, Akademische Druck- und Verlaganstalt, 1984) 84 Pergamon, plan of the Great Altar of Zeus (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983)

Illustrations

xiii

PLATE 22 354 85 Pergamon, facade of the Altar of Zeus rebuilt in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin 86a Priene, restored view of the altar of Athena, from the NE corner of the temple (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 86b Priene, restored rear elevation of the altar of Athena (Wiegand and Schrader, Priene, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 87 Magnesia, restored plan of the altar of Artemis Leukophryene (von Gerkan, Der Altardes Artemistempels in Magnesia am M¨aander, Berlin, Schutz, 1929) 88 Magnesia, elevation of the altar of Artemis Leukophryene (von Gerkan, Der Altar des Artemistempels in Magnesia am M¨aander, Berlin, Schutz, 1929) 89 Cosa, restored drawing of the temples on the Arx (Brown, Cosa 2, American Academy in Rome, 1960) PLATE 23 355 90 Praeneste, model of the sanctuary of Fortuna Primigenia in the Palestrina Museum 91 Tivoli, restored drawing of the sanctuary of Hercules Victor (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 92 Terracina, model of the sanctuary of Jupiter Anxur (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 93 Tivoli, actual-state and restored plans of the temples above the Anio gorge (Delbr uck, Hellenistische ¨ Bauten in Latium, Strassburg, K.J. Trubner, 1907–12) ¨ PLATE 24 356 94 Tivoli, view of the temples above the Anio gorge 95 Terracina, view from the harbour to the terrace of the temple of Jupiter 96 Hermopolis Magna, Hellenistic Corinthian capital (Wace/Megaw/Skeat, Hermopolis Magna, Ashmunein, Alexandria, 1959) 97 Uzuncaburc¸, plan of the temple of Zeus Olbios (Keil/Wilhelm, Denkm¨aler aus dem rauhen Kilikien, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1931) PLATE 25 357 98 Uzuncaburc¸, view of the remains of the temple of Zeus Olbios 99 Uzuncaburc¸, Corinthian capital of the temple of Zeus Olbios 100 Athens, plan of the Olympieion (Welter, AthMitt 37 [1922]) 101 Athens, the Olympieion from the SE PLATE 26 358 102 Athens, Olympieion, detail of two standing capitals 103 Athens, Olympieion capital drawn by Penrose 104 Epidauros, plan of Temple L near the sanctuary of Asklepios (Roux, L’architecture del’Argolide, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1961) 105 Epidauros, restored flank elevation of Temple L (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1961) PLATE 27 359 106 Knidos, view of round temple attributed to Aphrodite by the excavator

xiv

Illustrations

107 Knidos, restoration of round temple attributed to Aphrodite by the excavator (Love, AJA 76 [1972]) 108 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, general plan (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1961) 109 Assos, corbelled gate in the city wall PLATE 28 360 110 Assos, corbel arch of the main gate of the city, as drawn in 1845 (Conybeare and Howson, Life and Epistles of St. Paul, London, Longmans, Green, 1889) 111 Syracuse, drawing of the western gate of Epipolai (Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeii, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1941) 112 Assos, general plan of the site (fig. 109 at 2, fig. 113 at 4–9, figs. 322–3 at 9) (Akurgal, Ancient Civilisations and Ruins of Turkey, Istanbul, Hachette, 1973) 113 Assos, plan and restoration of the Hellenistic agora (Clarke, Bacon, and Koldewey, Investigations at Assos, Cambridge, Archaeological Institute of America, 1902–21) PLATE 29 361 114 Priene, model of the central part of the city (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 115 Priene, general plan of the site (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964) 116 Aigai in Aiolis, the ruins of the market-building 117 Aigai, plan of the agora (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 118 Alinda, the agora and market stoa from above to NW 119 Alinda, plan of the agora (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) PLATE 30 362 120 Priene, plan of the agora (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 121 Priene, drawing of the SE entrance to the agora (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 122 Priene, view to the W from the NE entrance to the agora 123 Magnesia, proposed restoration, with fountain, of the S end of the W stoa of the agora (Humann, Magnesia am M¨aander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 124 Athens, plan of the agora in the later second century (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1971) 125 Athens, the Gate of Athena Archegetis PLATE 31 363 126 Athens, restored view of the agora from the NW in the Roman period (courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 127 Athens, foundations W of the Stoa Poikile in the agora, restored as an arched gateway with commemorative statues (Camp, The Athenian Agora, London, Thames and Hudson, 1986) 128 Miletos, model of the harbour and agora areas of the city, in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin 129 Kalydon, plan and restored drawing of the Heroon (Dyggve/Poulsen/Rhomaios, Das Heroon von Kalydon, Copenhagen, 1934)

Illustrations

xv

PLATE 32 364 130 Pergamon, plan of the entrances to the middle and lower gymnasium terraces (Akurgal, Ancient Civilisations and Ruins of Turkey, Istanbul, Hachette, 1973) 131 Olympia, restored plan and elevation of the gate to the stadium (Busing, Die griechische Halbs¨aule, ¨ Wiesbaden, Franz Steiner, 1970) 132 Athens, model of the W side of the agora (courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 133 Samothrace, plan of the Ptolemaion (Frazer, Samothrace 10, Princeton, 1990) PLATE 33 365 134 Samothrace, restored drawing of the E facade of the Ptolemaion (Frazer, Samothrace 10, Princeton, 1990) 135 Samothrace, S elevation of the Ptolemaion, with the vaulted tunnel beneath (Frazer, Samothrace 10, Princeton, 1990) 136 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, plan of the North Propylaia (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1961) 137 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, view of the North Propylaia PLATE 34 366 138 Samothrace, vaulted tunnel beneath the Ptolemaion 139 Eleusis, model of the sanctuary showing the Greater Propylaia, in the foreground, with the Lesser Propylaia near centre of picture (Travlos, Bildlexikon zur Topographie des antiken Attika, T ubingen, ¨ Wasmuth, 1988) 140 Eleusis, plan of the Greater (right) and Lesser (left) Propylaia (Noack, Eleusis, die baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des Heiligtum, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1927) 141 Eleusis, restored drawing of the outer facade of the Lesser Propylaia (H ormann, Die inneren ¨ Propyl¨aen von Eleusis, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1932) PLATE 35 367 142 Delos, model showing the processional way (at bottom) leading to the entrance to the sanctuary ´ ´ (at top) (Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, L’espace grec, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1996) 143 Pergamon, entrance to the Library, rebuilt in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin 144 Alinda, detail of composite piers in the basement of the market stoa 145 Athens, Stoa of Attalos II, upper interior and exterior colonnades PLATE 36 368 146 Perachora, plan of the harbour area, with the L-shaped stoa (1) at the right (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 147 Delphi, view of the sanctuary of Apollo from above 148 Argive Heraion, general plan showing the location of the stoas (Waldstein, The Argive Heraeum I, Boston, Houghton Mifflin, 1902) 149 Delphi, Stoa of the Athenians, from the W PLATE 37 369 150 Athens, agora, restored plan and facade elevation of the Stoa of Zeus (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1970)

xvi

Illustrations

151 Athens, agora, South Stoa I, restored plan as rooms for public dining (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1970) 152 Athens, restored view of S side of Acropolis from the SW 153 Delos, plan of the sanctuary and agora with the Processional Way from the harbour (Bruneau and ´ Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) PLATE 38 370 154 Pergamon, plan of the Upper Agora and the Altar precinct (detail from Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, Istanbul, Hachette, 1973) 155 Megalopolis, detail plan of the W end of the Stoa of Philip (Gardner, Excavations at Megalopolis, Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies, London, 1892) 156 Megalopolis, general plan of the Stoa of Philip (no. 2) (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 157 Corinth, South Stoa, plan, elevation, and stylobate and toichobate curvatures (Broneer, Corinth I Part IV: The South Stoa, Princeton, 1954, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) PLATE 39 371 158 Corinth, cross-section of the South Stoa (Broneer, Corinth I Part IV: The South Stoa, Princeton, 1954, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 159 Corinth, cutaway restoration of the South Stoa (Broneer, Corinth I Part IV: The South Stoa, Princeton, 1954, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 160 Priene, agora, restored drawing of the W end of the North Stoa (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 161 Athens, plan of the Stoa in the Asklepieion (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1970) 162 Athens, Asklepieion, restored sections of the Doric stoa and the Sacred Pit (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1970) PLATE 40 372 163 Athens, agora, the rebuilt Stoa of Attalos II from the NW (courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 164a Herakleia-under-Latmos, plan of the agora area (Krischen, Antike Rath¨auser, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1941) 164b Herakleia-under-Latmos, basement levels of the South Stoa of the agora 165 Delos, Agora of the Italians, two-storeyed stoa restored (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, ´ Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) PLATE 41 373 166 Miletos, plan of North Agora and Harbour Stoa ca. 300 (Wycherley, How the Greeks Built Cities, London, MacMillan, 1949) 167 Miletos, plan of North and South Agoras ca. 150 (Wycherley, How the Greeks Built Cities, London, MacMillan, 1949) 168 Mamurt Kale, plan of the sanctuary (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 169 Pergamon, SW corner of Lower Agora, details of plan, elevation, and section (Dorpfeld, AthMitt ¨ 27 [1902])

Illustrations

xvii

PLATE 42 374 170 Elis, plan of the excavated agora buildings (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 171 Doura Europos, restored view of the agora buildings (Ward-Perkins, Cities of Ancient Greece and Italy, New York, George Braziller, 1974) 172 Athens, agora, model with South Square, Middle Stoa, and South Stoa II (Camp, The Athenian Agora, London, Thames and Hudson, 1986) 173 Olympia, Corinthian capital from the interior of the South Stoa (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972) PLATE 43 375 174 Messene, figured Corinthian capital of Asklepieion stoas 175 Athens, agora, interior of the lower floor of the Stoa of Attalos II 176 Priene, agora, restored drawing of the interior of the North Stoa (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 177 Priene, agora, restored plan and drawing of central portion of the South Stoa facade (Wiegand and Schrader, Priene, Berlin, Georg Reimer, 1904) PLATE 44 376 178 Magnesia, Ionic bull-capital from corner column of the interior colonnade of the -shaped stoa of the agora (Humann, Magnesia am M¨aander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 179 Delos, detail plan of the interior columns of the Hypostyle Hall at capital level (after Bruneau ´ and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) 180 Athens, agora, upper interior columns of the Stoa of Attalos II 181 Delos, Stoa of Antigonos, detail of the entablature PLATE 45 377 182 Cori temple, detail of Doric entablature 183 Miletos, Harbour Stoa, plan and elevation of cordiform pier (Busing, Die griechische Halbs¨aule, ¨ Wiesbaden, Franz Steiner, 1970) 184 Miletos, Harbour Stoa, with bottom drum of cordiform pier at lower left 185 Athens, choregic monument of Lysikrates 186 Istanbul Museum, Sarcophagus of the Mourning Women PLATE 46 378 187 Delphi, plan of the Tholos in the Marmaria´ (Juko Ito, New Measurements and Observations on . . . the Tholos in the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia at Delphi, Japan, Kyushu University Press, 2004) 188 Delphi, view of the Tholos from the NE 189 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, plan of the Tholos (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) 190 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, cross-section of the Tholos colonnades (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1961) 191 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, Corinthian capital from the Tholos PLATE 47 379 192 Olympia, plan of the Philippeion (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972)

xviii

Illustrations

193 Olympia, Philippeion, cross-section through outer colonnade and cella wall (B using, Die griechische ¨ Halbs¨aule, Wiesbaden, Franz Steiner, 1970) 194 Samothrace, the foundations of the Arsinoeion 195 Samothrace, exterior elevation of the Arsinoeion (McCredie, Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1992) PLATE 48 380 196 Samothrace, cross-section of the Arsinoeion (McCredie, Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, Princeton, 1992) 197 Samothrace, restored drawing of a Corinthian capital from the Arsinoeion (McCredie, Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, Princeton, 1992) 198 Limyra, restoration of the facade of the Heroon (Borchhardt, Die Bauskulptur des Heroons von Limyra, IstForsch 30, Berlin 1976) 199 Halikarnassos, plan of the preserved foundations of the Mausoleum ( Jeppesen, IstMitt 26 [1976]) PLATE 49 381 200 Halikarnassos, restoration of the Mausoleum (Susan Bird, in Linders/Hellstr om, Architecture and ¨ Society in Hecatomnid Caria, Uppsala, 1989) 201 Halikarnassos, restoration of the Mausoleum by Jeppesen (The Mausolleion at Halikarnassos 5, Hojbjerg, Jutland Archaeological Society, 2002) ¨ 202 Knidos, standing remains of the Lion Tomb 203 Knidos, plans, section, and elevations of the Lion Tomb (Fletcher, A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method, 13th ed., London, Batsford, 1946) PLATE 50 382 204 Amphipolis, the restored Lion Monument 205 Belevi, remains of the great mausoleum 206 Belevi Mausoleum, Corinthian capital in the courtyard of the Ephesos Museum 207 Belevi Mausoleum, restored drawing (Praschniker, Forschungen in Ephesos 6: Das Mausoleum von ¨ Belevi, Vienna, Osterreichisches Arch¨aologisches Institut, 1979) PLATE 51 383 208 Rhodes, ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies’ at Rhodini 209 Kos, the Charmyleion at Pyrgi, restored drawing of the facade (Schazmann, JdI 49 [1934]) 210 Kos, plan and section of the basement of the Charmyleion (Schazmann, JdI 49 [1934]) 211 Lindos, view of the Archokrateion PLATE 52 384 212 Lindos, restored drawing of the facade of the Archokrateion (Dyggve, Lindos III.2, Berlin and Copenhagen, W. de Gruyter, 1960) 213 Ta Marmara near Miletos, restored drawing of the Heroon (Wiegand, ArchAnz [1902]) 214 Telmessos, Tomb of Amyntas 215 Vergina, facade of the ‘Rhomaios Tomb’ PLATE 53 385 216 Vergina, detail of the entablature of the ‘Rhomaios tomb’ 217 Lefkadhia, plan of the Great Tomb (Petsas, O taphos ton Leukadion, Athens, Archaeological Society of Athens, 1966)

Illustrations

xix

218 Lefkadhia, restoration of the facade of the Great Tomb (Petsas, O taphos ton Leukadion, Athens, Archaeological Society of Athens, 1966) 219 Alexandria, interior of the Alabaster Tomb PLATE 54 386 220 Alexandria, plan of the Shatbi tomb (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1990) 221 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb I (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1990) 222 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb III (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1990) 223 Alexandria, Mustafa Pasha Tomb III, main facade of court 224 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb IV (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1990) 225 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb II (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1990) PLATE 55 387 226 Alexandria, the Pharos restored (Thiersch, Pharos, antike Islam und Occident, Leipzig and Berlin, Teubner, 1909) 227 Sabratha, restored drawing of Mausoleum B (di Vita, R¨omMitt 83 [1976]) 228 Dougga, tomb of Ateban (Poinssot, Les ruines de Dougga, Tunis, Institut National du Patrimoine, 1958) 229 Akragas, ‘Tomb of Theron’ PLATE 56 388 230 Model of the Kbour-er-Roumia stone tumulus (Horn/Ruger, Die Numider, Bonn, Rudolf Habelt, ¨ 1979) 231 St R´emy-de-Provence, Monument of the Julii 232 Athens, plan of the precinct and theatre of Dionysos (Dorpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische Theater, ¨ Athens, 1896) 233 Athens, plan of the Odeion of Perikles, with the retaining wall of the theatre auditorium built around the NW corner (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1970) PLATE 57 389 234 Naples, terracotta plaque showing a two-storeyed stagehouse facade (Fiechter, Die baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des antiken Theaters, Munich, Back, 1914) 235 Athens, Theatre of Dionysos, Fiechter’s restoration of the provision for a backdrop to the early orchestra (Fiechter, Antike griechische Theaterbauten: Das Dionysos-Theater in Athen, Stuttgart, Kohlhammer, 1935–6) 236 Megalopolis, plan of the theatre and Thersilion (Bieber, Denkm¨aler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1920) 237 Delos, view of the orchestra and remains of the stagehouse of the Hellenistic theatre PLATE 58 390 238 Delos, plan of the theatre and restoration of the stone skene (D orpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische ¨ Theater, Athens, 1896)

xx

Illustrations

239 Pergamon, view of the theatre from the N 240 Pergamon, suggested plan of removable wooden stagehouse (D orpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische ¨ Theater, Athens, 1896) 241 Athens, theatre of Dionysos, section of the Lykourgan stagehouse PLATE 59 391 ´ 242 Thasos, plan of the theatre (Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, Guide de Thasos, Paris, 1968) 243 Thasos, theatre, restored drawing of the proskenion facade and detail of dedicatory inscription ´ (Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, Guide de Thasos, Paris, 1968) 244 Oropos, view of the rebuilt proskenion of the theatre 245 Oropos, plan of the orchestra and stagehouse of the theatre (Fiechter, Baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des antiken Theaters, Munich, Back, 1914) 246 Oropos, restored drawing of the orchestra and stagehouse (Fiechter, Antike griechische Theaterbauten: Das Theater in Oropos, Stuttgart, Kohlhammer, 1930) PLATE 60 392 247 Peiraieus, plan of the theatre (Dorpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Athens, 1896) ¨ 248 Epidauros, view of the theatre with modern stagehouse (1965) 249 Epidauros, plan of the theatre (Bieber, Denkm¨aler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1920) 250a Trachones, Attika, plan of the small deme-theatre (Pohlmann, Studien zur Buhnendichtung und ¨ ¨ zum Theaterbau der Antike, Frankfurt am Main, Peter Lang, 1995) 250b Trachones, view from the stagehouse to the orchestra and auditorium (Pohlmann, Studien zur ¨ Buhnendichtung und zum Theaterbau der Antike, Frankfurt am Main, Peter Lang, 1995) ¨ PLATE 61 393 251 Priene, restored drawing of the theatre (A. von Gerkan, Das Theater von Priene, Munich, Schmidt, 1921) 252 Epidauros, plan of the first stagehouse (von Gerkan/Muller-Wiener, Das Theater von Epidauros, ¨ Stuttgart, Kohlhammer, 1961) 253 Priene, view of the theatre from the acropolis 254 Priene, view of the rebuilt proskenion and the remains of the stagehouse PLATE 62 394 255 Naples, mosaic with a scene from a play of Menander (Bieber, Denkm¨aler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1920) 256 Naples, Roman relief with a scene from New Comedy (Bieber, Denkm¨aler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1920) 257 Tyndaris, theatre, model of the stagehouse (Courtois, Le bˆatiment de sc`ene des th´eaˆ tres d’Italie et de Sicile, Providence, Brown University, Art and Archaeology Publications, 1989) 258 Segesta, view of the orchestra and stagehouse of the theatre PLATE 63 395 259 Segesta, restoration of the theatre and stagehouse (Bulle, ‘Untersuchungen an griechischen Theatern,’ Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, AbhMunchen 33 [1928]) ¨ 260 Olympia, view of the stadium from SW to NE 261 Olympia, vaulted entrance to the stadium

Illustrations

xxi

262 Nemea, drawing of the stadium end of the vaulted entrance-passage (Miller, ed., Nemea: A Guide to the Site and the Museum, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1990) 263 Miletos, Hellenistic vault under rising tiers of seats at E end of the stadium PLATE 64 396 264 Epidauros, plan of the middle portion of the stadium with the vaulted entrance passage under the seats (Patrucco, Lo stadio di Epidauro, Firenze, Olschki, 1976) 265 Athens, the Panathenaic Stadium as rebuilt for the 1896 Olympiad 266 Delphi, view of the stadium from the W 267 Priene, restored drawing of Lower Gymnasium and W end of the stadium (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) PLATE 65 397 268 Perge, the stadium from SSW 269 Perge, ramping vaults on the W side of the stadium 270 Argive Heraion, plan of the West Building (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 271 Athens, plan of the W end of the Acropolis, showing the sanctuary of Artemis Brauronia and the Chalkotheke (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, London, Thames and Hudson, 1970) 272 Brauron, sanctuary of Artemis, plan of the courtyard (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) PLATE 66 398 273 Buruncuk (Larisa in Aiolis?), plan of the later palace on the acropolis (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, Harmondsworth, Pelican History of Art, 1957) ´ 274 Delos, plan of the gymnasium and stadium (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) ´ 275 Delos, plan of the gymnasium (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) PLATE 67 399 276a Delphi, gymnasium, original plan (below) and complex after addition of xystos/dromos and bath (above) (Delorme, Gymnasion, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1960) 276b Delphi, detail plan of the palaistra and loutron (Delorme, Gymnasion, Paris, E. de Boccard, 1960) 277 Delphi, view of the palaistra complex from the Phaidriades 278 Delphi, lower terrace of the gymnasium, with bath-basins and circular cold plunge in middle distance and the palaistra beyond PLATE 68 400 279 Delphi, cold pool of the gymnasium 280 Sikyon, plan of the gymnasium (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 281 Sikyon, restored drawing of a fountain on the lower terrace of the gymnasium (Glaser, KRHNAI, Vienna, Oesterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1983) 282 Epidauros, plan of the ‘palaistra’ (Dinsmoor, Architecture of Ancient Greece, London, Batsford, 1950)

xxii

Illustrations

PLATE 69 401 283 Priene, plan of the Lower Gymnasium (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 284 Priene, washtubs in situ in the loutron (bath) of the Lower Gymnasium 285 Priene, restored drawing of the ‘schoolroom’ of the Lower Gymnasium (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 286 Priene, boys’ names carved on the walls of the ‘schoolroom’ (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) PLATE 70 402 287 Amphipolis, plan of the Hellenistic gymnasium (K. Lazarides, Praktika [1989]) 288 Amphipolis, the gymnasium site from the N 289 Miletos, plan of the stadium area (detail plan of stadium area from general plan in Kleiner, Die Ruinen von Milet, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1968) 290 Miletos, plan of the Hellenistic palaistra on the avenue leading to the harbour (Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, Istanbul, Hachette, 1973) 291 Miletos, restored drawing of the Hellenistic palaistra (von Gerkan, Milet I.9, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1922) PLATE 71 403 292 Eretria, plan of the Upper Gymnasium (Auberson/Schefold, Fuhrer durch Eretria, Bern, Francke, ¨ 1972) 293 Eretria, plan of the Lower Gymnasium (Auberson/Schefold, Fuhrer durch Eretria, Bern, Francke, ¨ 1972) 294 Pergamon, plan of the Great Gymnasium (Schazmann, Altertumer von Pergamon 6: Das Gymnasium, ¨ Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1923) 295 Pergamon, restoration of the Great Gymnasium (Schazmann, Altertumer von Pergamon 6: Das ¨ Gymnasium, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1923) PLATE 72 404 296 Pergamon, Upper Gymnasium, the sunken xystos 297a Olympia, plan of the palaistra (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972) 297b Olympia, restored view of the gymnasium and the palaistra (Carbonni`eres, Olympie: Victoire pour les dieux, Paris, CNRS, 1995) 298 Olympia, SE quadrant of the gymnasium from the NW 299 Olympia, view of the palaistra from the SW PLATE 73 405 300 Olympia, NW propylon of the palaistra (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972) 301a A suggested plan for the ‘Greek palaistra’ of Vitruvius (Morgan, Vitruvius, New York, Dover, 1960) 301b Another version of the ‘Greek palaistra’ of Vitruvius (P. Gros, De Architectura, following Birnbaum, Italian ed., Torino, Einaudi, 1997)

Illustrations

xxiii

302a Gortys in Arkadia, general plan of the Asklepieion with the temple of Asklepios in the centre and the bath-building at the lower left (Ginouv`es, L’´etablissement thermal de Gortys d’Arcadie, Paris, Librairie philosophique J. Vrin, 1959) 302b Gortys, plan of the bath-building (Ginouv`es, L’´etablissement thermal de Gortys d’Arcadie, Paris, Librairie philosophique J. Vrin, 1959) 303 Gortys, general view of the bath-building PLATE 74 406 304 Olympia, plan of the Greek Bath, all periods (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972) 305 Olympia, plan of the Greek Bath and vicinity ca. 400 (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972) 306–7 Olympia, drawings of the Greek Bath, Period III (top) and the ‘Greek hypocaust’ (below) (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1972) PLATE 75 407 308 Eleusis, plans of successive Telesteria (Travlos, EphArch [1950–1]) 309 Megalopolis, view of the Thersilion from the theatre 310 Megalopolis, remains of the Thersilion with the theatre in the background 311 Messene, model of the Asklepieion (Papachatzis, Pausaniou Ellados Periegesis 3, Athens, Ekdotike Athenon, 1979) PLATE 76 408 312 Priene, plan of the Assembly Hall and restored drawing of the interior (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) 313 Priene, view from the acropolis, with the Assembly Hall and Prytaneion at lower left ´ 314 Delos, plan of the Hypostyle Hall (Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) 315 Delos, cross-section of the Hypostyle Hall (after Vallois/Poulsen, Exploration arch´eologiqque de ´ D´elos 2 Compl´ement, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1914) PLATE 77 409 ¨ [1901]) 316 Lousoi, plan of the sanctuary of Artemis, with the temple (H) and Council-house (D) ( OJh 317 Herakleia-under-Latmos, SE corner of the Council-house 318 Herakleia-under-Latmos, N-S section of the Council-house (Krischen, Antike Rath¨auser, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1941) 319 Herakleia-under-Latmos, plan of the Council-house (Krischen, Antike Rath¨auser, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1941) PLATE 78 410 320 Sikyon, plan of the Council-house (McDonald, The Political Meeting-Places of the Greeks, Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1943) 321 Notion, plan of the Council-house (McDonald, The Political Meeting-Places of the Greeks, Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1943) 322 Assos, plan of the Council-house with wooden seats 323 Assos, restored interior view of the Council-house 324 Miletos, plan of the Council-house (Kleiner, Die Ruinen von Milet, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1968)

xxiv

Illustrations

325 Miletos, cross-section of the Council chamber (Izenour, Roofed Theatres of Classical Antiquity, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 1992) PLATE 79 411 326 Miletos, ‘Doric’ half-column capital from the Council-house 327 Termessos, plan of the Council-house (Krischen, Antike Rath¨auser, Berlin, Gebr. Mann, 1941) 328 Termessos, view of the Council-house from the NW 329 Termessos, S wall of Council-house with windows 330 Termessos, restoration of E wall of Council-house (Krischen, Antike Rath¨auser, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1941) PLATE 80 412 331 Alabanda, plan of the Council-house, with suggested arrangement of seats and interior supports 332 Alabanda, exterior of the Council-house from the S 333a Peiraieus, cutaway section of the Arsenal of Philo (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, Harmondsworth, Pelican History of Art, 1957) 333b Peiraieus, plans, exterior elevation, and longitudinal section of the Arsenal (Jeppesen, Paradeigmata, Aarhus University Press, 1957) 334 Pergamon, plan of the Hellenistic arsenals on the acropolis (von Szalay/Boehringer, Altert umer ¨ von Pergamon 10: Die hellenistische Arsenale, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1937) 335 Pergamon, detail of model in the Pergamon Museum showing the Hellenistic arsenals PLATE 81 413 336 Pergamon, restored drawings of an acropolis arsenal (von Szalay/Boehringer, Altertumer von ¨ Pergamon 10: Die hellenistische Arsenale, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1937) 337 Corbridge, England, restoration of granary buildings ´ 338 Thasos, plan of the agora (Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, Guide de Thasos, Paris, 1968) 339 Miletos, restored drawing of the S end of the agora storehouse (Busing, Die griechische Halbs¨aule, ¨ Wiesbaden, Franz Steiner, 1970) 340 Pompeii, plan of the Villa dei Misteri (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, London, Penguin, 1971) PLATE 82 414 341 Ptolemais, plan of the Palazzo delle Colonne (Lyttelton, Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity, London, Thames and Hudson, 1974) 342 Ptolemais, axonometric restoration of the Palazzo delle Colonne (Boethius/Ward-Perkins, Etruscan and Roman Architecture, Harmondsworth, 1970) 343 Pella, plan of house blocks in the lower city (Petsas, Pella, Alexander the Great’s Capital, Thessalonike, Institute for Balkan Studies, 1966) 344 Samos, plan of the Kastro villa in Hellenistic times (Tolle-Kastenbein, Samos 14: Die Kastro Tigani, ¨ Deutsches Arch¨aologisches Institut, 1974) PLATE 83 415 345 Eretria, plan of houses inside the W walls (Ducrey/Metzger/Reber, Eretria VIII: Le quartier de la ´ Maison aux Mosaiques, Lausanne, Editions Payot, 1993) 346 Delos, general view of the House of the Hermes 347a Delos, House of the Hermes, plans of the two lower storeys (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, ´ Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966)

Illustrations

xxv

347b Delos, House of the Hermes, plans of the two upper storeys (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, ´ Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) 348 Vergina, plan of the Hellenistic palace (Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Athens, Ekdotike Athenon, 1979) 349 Vergina, airview of the Hellenistic palace from the NE (Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Athens, Ekdotike Athenon, 1979) PLATE 84 416 350a Pella, plan of the palace on the acropolis (Nielsen, Hellenistic Palaces, Aarhus, Aarhus University Press, 1994) 350b Pella, acropolis palace, restoration of the wall-decoration of the great hall of Courtyard I (Hoepfner, in Hoepfner/Brands, Basileia: Die Pal¨aste der hellenistischen K¨onige, Mainz, Philip von Zabern, 1996) 351 Epidauros, plan of the Katagogeion (Dinsmoor, Greek Architecture, Batsford, London, 1950) 352 Pella, model of the House of the Abduction of Helen (Makaronas/Giouri, Oi oikies tes arpages tes Elenes kai tou Dionysou, Athens, Archaeological Society at Athens, 1989) 353 Pella, model of the House of Dionysos (Makaronas/Giouri, Oi oikies tes arpages tes Elenes kai tou Dionysou, Athens, Archaeological Society at Athens, 1989) PLATE 85 417 354 Demetrias, plan of the Hellenistic palace (Marzolff, in Hoepfner/Brands, Basileia: Die Pal¨aste der hellenistischen K¨onige, Mainz, Philip von Zabern, 1996) 355 Vergina, restoration drawing of the Hellenistic palace (Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Athens, Ekdotike Athenon, 1979) 356 Samos, remains of the villa on the Kastro hill (Tolle-Kastenbein, Samos 14: Die Kastro Tigani, ¨ Deutsches Arch¨aologisches Institut, 1974) ´ 357 Delos, plan of the House of the Masks (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) PLATE 86 418 358a Pergamon, traditional plan of the Group IV and V palaces (Kawerau/Wiegand, Altert umer von ¨ Pergamon 5, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1930) 358b Pergamon, Group IV and V palaces, with Group IV restored as residential, Group V as banquet-halls (Hoepfner, in Hoepfner/Brands, Die Pal¨aste der hellenistischen K¨onige, Mainz, Philip von Zabern, 1996) 359a Pergamon, plan of houses W of the Lower Agora (Pinkwart/Stamnitz, Altertumer von Pergamon ¨ 14: Peristylh¨auser westlich der unteren Agora, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1984) 359b Pergamon, alternative restorations of Houses II and III W of the Lower Agora (Pinkwart/Stamnitz, Altertumer von Pergamon 14: Peristylh¨auser westlich der unteren Agora, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, ¨ 1984) PLATE 87 419 360 Iraq al-Amir, restoration of the main facade of the Qasr el-Abd (Will/Larch e´ , Iraq al Amir: Le chˆateau du Tobiade Hyrcan, Paris, P. Geuthner, 1991) 361 Restoration of an Alexandrian fountain (based on a papyrus description) (Adriani, Lezioni sull’arte alessandrina, Naples, Libreria scientifica editrice, 1972) 362 Delos, plan of the House of the Dolphins (Chamonard, Exploration arch´eologique de D´elos 8: Le ´ quartier du th´eaˆ tre, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath´enes, 1922–4)

xxvi

Illustrations

363 Delos, restored drawing of the block of the House of the Comedians (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide ´ de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) PLATE 88 420 364 Delos, transverse arches of the Theatre Cistern 365 Delos, the ‘Rhodian peristyle’ in the House of the Masks 366 Priene, House 33, restoration of the original house (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) 367 Priene, House 33, plan of the later enlarged house (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) PLATE 89 421 368 Priene, restoration of the enlarged House 33 (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed., Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1964) ´ 369 Delos, Monument de Granit, plan (detail from Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) 370 Syracuse, plan of the great battery and outer defences of the Euryalos fort (after Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeji, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1941) 371 Selinus, defences of the North Gate (after Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeji, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1941) PLATE 90 422 372 Paestum, drawing of tower with architectural ornament (Winter, Greek Fortifications, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 1971) 373 Rome, artillery-chamber in the Republican wall on the Aventine 374 Rome, Forum Boarium, terracotta casing for the top of a wooden column (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 375 Velia, intrados of the vaulted passage of the Porta Rosa PLATE 91 423 376 Sovana, facade of the Tomba Ildebranda restored (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 377 Rome, sarcophagus of L. Scipio Barbatus 378 Rome, Tomb of C. Poplicius Bibulus 379 Pompeii, plan of the theatre district (Mau and Kelsey, Pompeii: Its Life and Art, London, MacMillan, 1902) PLATE 92 424 380 Rome, plan of the temples in the Largo Argentina (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 381 Rome, plan of the Capitolium (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 382a Volsinii, plan of the Poggio Casetta temple (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 382b Orvieto, plan of the Belvedere temple (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978)

Illustrations

xxvii

PLATE 93 425 383 Rome, Republican portico in the Forum Holitorium 384a Rome, plan showing the position of the temple of Veiovis (Nash, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Rome II, London, Zwemmer, 1962) 384b Rome, restoration drawing of the temple of Veiovis (Nash, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Rome II, London, Zwemmer, 1962) 385 Palermo, Etruscan ash-urn with voussoir arch 386 Rome, plan of the Republican Forum Romanum (Lugli, Roma antica: Il centro monumentale, Rome, Bardi, 1946) PLATE 94 426 387 Rome, view of the Basilica Aemilia from the Palatine 388 Alba Fucens, plan of the area of the basilica and the Forum (detail from Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) 389 Pompeii, plan of the Forum (Mau and Kelsey, Pompeii: Its Life and Art, London, MacMillan, 1902) 390 Ardea, plan of the basilica (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, London, Penguin Books, 1978) PLATE 95 427 391 Cosa, plan of the Forum ca. 140, with the basilica at the upper right (Brown, Cosa 3, American Academy in Rome, 1993) 392 Pergamon, plan of the Lower Agora and adjacent area (Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, Istanbul, Hachette, 1973) 393 Delos, plan of the Agora of the Italians (detail from Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de D´elos, Paris, ´ Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1966) 394 Herculaneum, plan of the House of the Mosaic Atrium (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, London, Penguin, 1971) PLATE 96 428 395 Pompeii, plan of the House of the Faun (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, London, Penguin, 1971) 396 Plan of the Villa dei Papiri outside Herculaneum (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, London, Penguin, 1971) 397 Ephesos, view from the Theatre Hill toward the harbour area PLATE 97 429 398 Pergamon, model of the acropolis from the SW 399 Argive Heraion, watercolour restoration (Waldstein, The Argive Heraeum, Boston and New York, Houghton Mifflin, 1902–5) 400a Stabiae, painting of a Campanian seaside villa (McKay, Houses, Villas and Palaces in the Roman World, London, Thames and Hudson, 1975) 400b Pompeii, House of Lucretius Fronto, painting of a seaside villa (McKay, Houses, Villas and Palaces in the Roman World, London, Thames and Hudson, 1975; Fototeca Unione, c/o American Academy in Rome) 401 An Egyptian palace garden of the New Kingdom, painting in the British Museum PLATE 98 430 402 Lindos, ship-relief on the ascent to the acropolis

xxviii

Illustrations

403 Oropos, view of the valley of the Amphiaraion 404 Aigai in Aiolis, cutaway restoration of the market-stoa (Bohn, Altertumer von Aegae, Berlin, ¨ Deutsches Arch¨aologisches Institut, 1889) 405 Aigai in Aiolis, plan of the site and surrounding area (Bohn, Altertumer von Aegae, Berlin, ¨ Deutsches Arch¨aologisches Institut, 1889) PLATE 99 431 406 Magnesia, restoration drawing of the E side of the agora, with the propylaia and temple of Artemis, and the facade of the temple of Zeus on the right (Humann, Magnesia am Maeander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 407 Kos, general plan of the Asklepieion (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1976) 408 Sabratha, stage of theatre with the rebuilt scaenae frons (JdI 51 [1936] 558) 409 Rome, restored detail of the exterior of the Theatre of Marcellus PLATE 100 432 410 Rome, the rectangular temple in the Forum Boarium 411 Olympia, restoration of the E facade of the temple of Zeus (Papachatzis, Pausaniou Ellados Periegesis 3, Athens, Ekdotike Athenon, 1979) 412 Nemea, restoration of the facade of the temple of Zeus (Hill/Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea, 1966, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 413 Nemea, Temple of Zeus, drawings and sections of the flank sima (Hill/Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea, 1966, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) PLATE 101 433 414 Lindos, drawings of a fourth-century capital from the temple of Athena Lindia (Dyggve, Lindos III, Berlin and Copenhagen, W. de Gruyter, 1960) 415a Delphi, Athena Pronaia III, composite piers between porch and cella (Bommelaer, Marmaria, ´ Paris, Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, 1997) 415b Delphi, Athena Pronaia III, drawing of a capital of a composite pier (Busing, Die griechische ¨ Halbs¨aule, Wiesbaden, Franz, Steiner, 1970) 416 Miletos, Corinthian capital from the Laodike Building 417 Miletos, Corinthian anta-capital from the propylon of the Council-house, now in the Istanbul Museum PLATE 102 434 418 Sardis, temple of Artemis, Eastern Ionic base with leaf-ornament on torus 419 Magnesia, temple of Artemis, late Hellenistic Ionic base with leaf-ornament on upper torus (Humann, Magnesia am Maeander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) 420 Kavalla Museum, Ionic capital from the Parthenos sanctuary 421 Qasr Nimrud, restored drawing of the Roman temple (Krencker/Zschietzschmann, R¨omische Tempel in Syrien, Berlin, W. de Gruyter, 1938) PLATE 103 435 422 Suweida, the tomb of Hamrath (Bruennow/von Domaszewski, Die Provincia Arabia III, Strassburg, Trubner, 1909) ¨

Illustrations

xxix

423 Jerusalem, elevation and plan of the ‘Tomb of Absalom’ (Avigad, Ancient Monuments in the Kidron Valley, Jerusalem, The Bialik Institute, 1954) 424 Jerusalem, restored elevation of the ‘Tomb of Zechariah’ (Avigad, Ancient Monuments in the Kidron Valley, Jerusalem, The Bialik Institute, 1954) 425 Tegea, temple of Alea Athena, moulding at the base of the cella wall PLATE 104 436 426 Ai-Khanum, Corinthian capital from the Hypostyle Hall (Lyttelton, Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity, London, Thames and Hudson, 1974) 427 Nemea, temple of Zeus, Ionic half-column-on-pier from the upper order of the cella (Hill/Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea, 1966, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) 428 Delos, Hall of the Bulls, plan and elevation of a bull-pier capital (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., New Haven, Yale University Press, 1983) 429 Vergina palace, restoration of the vestibule on the S side of the great court (Hoepfner/Brands, Basileia: Die Pal¨aste der hellenistischen K¨onige, Mainz, Philip von Zabern, 1996)

This page intentionally left blank

PREFACE

Any study attempting to deal with a subject spread over as large an area as that of Hellenistic architecture takes a long time to complete; the present work is no exception, and the period to completion has been further lengthened by my setting the work aside for a decade or more, during which other interests engaged my attention. On the whole, I think this delay has been beneficial; on returning to the draft manuscript I was able to take advantage of some ten to twelve years of further discovery, excavation, publication, and scholarly discussion, and to reassess the validity of some aspects of the earlier drafts. I believe I have now taken account of the most important developments up to the end of the last century; due to the nature of publication procedures, however, coverage from about 2000 onward may be less complete. If some parts of the study seem rather militant in their championship of the extent of the Hellenistic achievement, I make no apology. Recognition of the quality of Hellenistic architecture has been long overdue; so too has been acknowledgment of the ways in which Hellenistic architects surpassed their Archaic and Classical predecessors, as well as of those in which they fell short of the Classical ideal – or at least of various versions of the Classical ideal as conceived by successive generations of modern scholars. In this connection, the six opening paragraphs of the ‘Epilogue’ to A.W. Lawrence’s Greek Architecture, first published in 1957, are very pertinent. Many people have made significant contributions to the final form of this study. Among

them, I owe a particular debt to the interest and encouragement of A.W. Lawrence, H.A. Thompson, J.W. Graham, and J.J. Coulton; I have also benefited from fruitful discussions in Athens with Eugene Vanderpool, Judith Binder, and Charles Williams. The contribution of the chapter on ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments’ by Janos Fedak represents a significant enhancement of the whole study. I am also deeply appreciative of the hospitality of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, and of the assistance of successive directors James McCredie, Henry Immerwahr, Stephen Miller, and William Coulson, of Colin Edmonson and John McK. Camp as Professors of Archaeology at the School, of Robert Bridges as School Secretary, and of the Greek members of the School staff. I am grateful for the granting of permission to reproduce many plans and drawings taken from earlier studies. Every effort has been made to contact all holders of copyright for illustrations; where my efforts to do so have been unsuccessful, apologies are here offered to the publishers and institutions concerned. I should be sadly remiss if I did not also acknowledge my debt to that great master of Greek architecture, William B. Dinsmoor Sr, from whose writings I have learned so much of what I know about the history of the ancient Greek architectural experience. I am grateful, too, for the helpful comments of the anonymous referees who have read my manuscript at various stages of its development. The gathering of material for this study, over a period of many years, has involved a good deal

xxxii of travel and research; carrying out this research would have been impossible without the aid of grants from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, including some received when SSHRCC was still part of the Canada Council; and I have also been greatly assisted by Research Leave Grants from the University of Toronto, and by Visiting Professorships at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens in 1977–8 and 1987–8. I am also deeply indebted to Jon Harstone, who introduced me to the (often bewildering and frustrating) world of word processors and computers; without his assistance completion of this work would have required a great deal more time, a commodity that F.E. Winter Toronto, 2004

Preface may well be in short supply for one of my age. I would further acknowledge my deep appreciation of the careful work of the editorial staff of the University of Toronto Press, particularly of my copy-editor, John St James, and the typesetter, Philippa Matheson. Finally, I am happy to record my gratitude to my wife and research colleague Joan E. Winter, whose firmness and encouragement did so much to bring about the necessary final revision of this study; and she and I both wish to record our debt to the many Greeks and Turks who have befriended us in our travels, especially those who assisted us in finding ancient remains in out-of-the-way places in many parts of the Mediterranean world.

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

This page intentionally left blank

INTRODUCTION

In the strictly political sphere the Hellenistic age is usually regarded as the period from the death of Alexander the Great to the completion of the Roman conquest of the eastern Mediterranean, that is, from 323 to ca. 50 BC, or even to the extinction of the Ptolemaic kingdom with the death of Cleopatra in 30 BC Yet in the history of Graeco-Roman art and culture many of the features that are most characteristic of Hellenistic civilization clearly go back a generation or more before Alexander’s death in 323, that is, to the period when the brief hegemony of Thebes ended with the death of Epaminondas at Mantineia in 362, and Philip II soon afterward became first regent, then king, of Macedonia. Indeed the regimes of Dionysios at Syracuse, and of Jason of Pherai in Thessaly, had already foreshadowed a new era dominated by powerful totalitarian rulers rather than by the old Greek city-states; and the history of the Hekatomnid dynasty of Mylasa shows the same development taking place, during the first half of the fourth century, among the Greek cities of Karia and the Hellenized Karians. Thus Ludger Alscher appropriately subtitled his volume on Greek sculpture of the fourth century ‘Nachklassik und Vorhellenismus’;1 and for the purposes of the present study, the monuments from the second third of the fourth century onward are generally treated as an essential part of the Hellenistic tradition.2 Unfortunately the history of Greek architecture of the fourth and subsequent centuries, un-

like that of Greek sculpture, long continued to be treated as a sort of appendage of the Classical achievement of the fifth century. Indeed the sixth chapter of Dinsmoor’s survey of ancient Greek architecture, which dealt with the fourth century, was entitled ‘The Beginning of the Decadence,’ in contrast to chapter 5, ‘The Culmination in Attica and the Peloponnesus’; 3 and Dinsmoor devoted considerably more space to the two centuries from ca. 600 to 400 than to the much longer period from ca. 400 to late Hellenistic times. Moreover, in general surveys of the whole range of Hellenistic art and architecture, architecture comes a poor second to sculpture, as in Christine Havelock’s Hellenistic Art.4 In the Hellenistic volume of the French ‘Arts of Mankind’ series, R. Martin’s essay on Hellenistic architecture comprises 94 pages and 87 illustrations, against 104 pages with 121 illustrations for painting and 136 pages with 157 illustrations for sculpture; 5 and this imbalance is scarcely redressed by the 33 plans and drawings for architecture, compared with 20 supplementary figures for sculpture, especially since the works of architecture are all original Greek creations, whereas at least one-quarter of the sculptures are Roman copies, and less than one-fifth of the painting illustrations come from the Hellenistic heartlands in the eastern Mediterranean. Nevertheless, Martin’s essay was arguably one of the two best overviews of the Hellenistic architectural achievement published up to that time; that essay, and A. Adriani’s entry in the

4

Introduction

Encyclopaedia of World Art,6 were almost unique in attempting to address the history of Hellenistic architecture on its own terms. In this respect they differ from T. Fyfe’s Hellenistic Architecture and Margaret Lyttelton’s Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity,7 both of which deal with Hellenistic monuments primarily as predecessors to developments of Roman date. General monographs on Greek architecture, and even on the architecture of particular periods, have in fact always been rarer than comparable works on sculpture and painting. Perhaps this situation is due to the fact that architecture, unless limited to a single site or a group of neighbouring sites, cannot be studied in museums or without extensive travel; it can be fully appreciated only ‘in the flesh’, so to speak, by visiting a large number of widely separated sites. It is a weakness of the present study that discussion of some Near Eastern and North African monuments is based entirely on written descriptions rather than on first-hand acquaintance. Our general appreciation of Hellenistic architecture was much increased with the appearance in 1986 of H. Lauter’s Die Architektur des Hellenismus.8 Although from the nature of the case Lauter’s book is divided under many of the same general headings as the present study, he also has separate sections on such topics as materials and techniques of construction, Hellenistic buildings as elements in the cityscape, typology, grouping and decoration of rooms, and a more extended treatment of ‘Oriental-Hellenistic’ architecture. On the other hand, the number of buildings included allowed for detailed discussion of only a small percentage of the total. Of course this sort of problem faces anyone trying to cover the rich variety of Hellenistic architecture over a period of some three centuries, especially if any attempt is made to treat separately

the achievements of each region of the Hellenistic world. In any event, a new survey of Hellenistic architecture in English is long overdue; this volume is an attempt to meet the need, by concentrating on monuments in the Aegean heartland (Greece, the islands, and Western Asia Minor), where architects followed most closely in the steps of their Classical predecessors, and on the Italo-Hellenistic tradition west of the Adriatic, which contributed so much to the development of Roman architecture during the late Republic and the early Empire. The contributions of architects in the Ptolemaic and Seleukid kingdoms are noticed in dealing with individual types of monument, rather than receiving more extended treatment in a separate chapter, as is done for the Italo-Hellenistic style. Even so, in order to keep the survey within the limits of a single volume it has been necessary to limit, or virtually omit, descriptions of many of the buildings mentioned. With regard to plans and illustrations, here too I have had to limit severely the number of figures. I hope that the decision to include as many restoration drawings as possible will help students to envisage Hellenistic buildings as complete three-dimensional structures, rather than as a series of photographs of ruins. I have also tried to do justice to the Italic, and especially the Roman, achievement, in those areas where they went far beyond their Classical and Hellenistic Greek predecessors. It is too much to hope that my conclusions will meet with the approval of both Hellenists and Romanists. At least to me these conclusions seem eminently fair and reasonable; if those who think otherwise would come forward with their own monographs to prove me wrong, so much the better for enhancing our appreciation of the nature of the Hellenistic achievement.

1 Temples and Sanctuaries

A. FROM THE LATER FIFTH CENTURY TO THE TIME OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT The great epoch of Greek temple building, insofar as the number of large new temples is concerned, had been the later Archaic age and the aftermath of the Persian Wars. In Athens and Attica, however, the post-Persian activity was delayed for a generation or so, to ca. 450–420.1 Thereafter few projects in the older cities and sanctuaries included completely new temples of large scale. It was frequently a matter of rebuilding an older temple; and the new buildings were often deliberately archaizing in plan, even though both the proportions of the columnar orders employed and the style of the decorative elements were those current at the time. New temples, as distinct from rebuilt older buildings, were generally small in scale, if judged by the standards of earlier times.2 The immediate reasons for this new approach to temple building were probably economic; yet in the broader view the change was mainly due to a change in religious outlook. In the ideal polis-state of earlier times, the individual’s personal relationship with his own guardian god or goddess took second place, at least officially, to the cult of some Polieus or Polias, the guardian deity and public personification of the polis, or city. This outlook was much encouraged by the tyrants of the sixth and early fifth centuries, many of whom were great temple builders (e.g., Peisistratos, Polykrates, and the Western Greek

tyrants). A reaction followed, either as a result of unwillingness to ‘commemorate’ the tyrants or because their great schemes proved too expensive, or both; thus, the Polykratean Heraion on Samos, the Peisistratid Olympieion at Athens, and perhaps the Olympieion at Akragas, were never completely finished, even in Hellenistic times. Moreover, while the Persian Wars produced a great outburst of Greek national confidence, the internecine struggles of the second half of the fifth century, and especially the long ordeal of the Peloponnesian War, led to increasing disenchantment with the polis-ideal, and so lessened the popularity of state cults as objects of lavish public expenditures. Yet civic pride, if not traditional piety, seems to have demanded the rebuilding of temples that were destroyed; and it was felt that, if possible, the new buildings should be architecturally more significant and pretentious than their predecessors. In fact, many ambitious schemes were monuments to political pride rather than religious fervour or conviction, and sometimes proved to be beyond a city’s capacity to undertake at once or finish quickly. In the later fifth century, the temple at Segesta was begun but never finished, while the temple of Apollo at Bassai, though not particularly large or lavish, seems to have dragged on over a period of twenty-five to thirty years. The temple of Athena at Priene

6

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

(1, figs. 1–4) was completed only with the help of Alexander the Great, and later, it would seem, of the king of Kappadokia.3 By contrast, less grandiose schemes were often finished quickly, for instance, the temple of Asklepios at Epidauros and at least the essential elements of the new temple of Zeus at Nemea4 (fig. 108 no. 1; fig. 412). During the period in question, peoples and states on the fringes of the Greek world were little affected by the urge to imitate the monumental temples of older sanctuaries and cities. For example, the Aitolians were content to preserve the early Archaic temple at Thermon until its destruction by enemy action in the late third century; and even the final Hellenistic form of the temple of Zeus at Dodona was very modest in scale, though carefully designed. Similarly, while a considerable number of temples is now known in Thrace and Macedonia, ranging in date from late Archaic to Hellenistic, these regions have yet to yield a temple of really monumental scale. In Arkadia, many small Archaic temples, sometimes modest, not to say unconventional in appearance, continued in use through the Hellenistic age, and even into Roman times; and other buildings, even of Hellenistic date, were obviously Archaic in style, and sometimes also in materials and construction.5 The series of Hellenistic buildings in the Letoon near Xanthos in Lykia (figs. 55, 57–60) is unusual for their age; yet during the sixth and fifth centuries Hera had acquired two temples in the Foce del Sele sanctuary near Paestum and two more in the city itself, while Athena was honoured in various temples on the Athenian Acropolis. In non-Greek ‘fringe’ areas, especially in those ruled by powerful dynasts such as the Hekatomnids of Karia, ancestral cults and practices were often clothed in Greek dress; but the sponsors were seldom carried away to the point of ignoring civil and military needs, or of bankrupting themselves. The extent and increasing Hellenization of Hekatomnid activity at Mylasa, Labraynda, and Halikarnassos, and the history of Lykian architecture from the late fifth century onward, are excellent examples of Greek influence on the non-Greek peoples of Asia Minor; 6 in the western Mediterranean the Hellenizing, first of Campania, and subsequently

of Latium, is another illustration of the same phenomenon.7 Even in the Aegean world, some Greek sanctuaries clung tenaciously to old forms and traditions; the peripteral temple was not the only acceptable type of sacred building. Thus in Boiotia we encounter a number of aperipteral plans; 8 neither the temple of Amphiaraos at Oropos nor the new Hieron at Samothrace had an exterior peristyle; and in Arkadia number of oikoi, without any columns, survived for many centuries.9 As a result of all the above factors, Greek temples from the late fifth century to the time of Alexander the Great form a surprising mixture of new ideas with conservative, or even parochial, forms and attitudes. For example, architects increasingly favoured shorter and wider peristyles. Hexastyle plans with twelve columns on the flanks are found at Rhamnous, in the new Argive Heraion designed by Eupolemos (figs. 148,396), the new Ismenion at Thebes,10 and the new temple of Zeus at Nemea; all of these were Doric buildings. Peristyles with six columns by eleven occur both in Doric (at Epidauros, in the temple of Asklepios by Theodotos; in the Metroon at Olympia [fig. 108; fig. 77]; in the temple of Zeus at Stratos) and in Ionic (in the temple of Athena at Priene, by Pytheos [fig. 1]).11 Yet retention of the opisthodomos in the Metroon and at Stratos produced cellas that were very small in proportion to the area of the outer platform, and almost square; moreover, the cella at Stratos, for all its small scale, needed free-standing interior supports (the precise form of which is unclear) to reshape the proportions of the nave and to give some degree of architectural progression from door to cult-statue.12 The architect of the Ismenion virtually eliminated the opisthodomos, presumably in order to leave more space for the cella. Theodotos and the Nemea architect suppressed the opisthodomos altogether, and instead made the front pteron twice the depth of those on the flanks and rear; they thus provided for a larger cella, and also gave a strong emphasis to the entrance end of the temple. The deepening of the front pteron and the omission of the opisthodomos, together with the undivided cella found at Epidauros, was probably a revival of a late Archaic idea, for instance, as seen in

Temples and Sanctuaries the temple of Athena at Paestum and the second temple of Athena Pronaia at Delphi.13 Such plans had found no favour with the architects of the fifth century, who were interested primarily in the relative proportions of height, width, and length, and in the symmetry of the exterior, and were thus in many ways more conservative than their predecessors of the late sixth century in introducing radical changes in overall plan.14 Ironically, in the very period when the opisthodomos was disappearing from Doric temples of the fourth century, it was introduced, evidently by Pytheos, into the Eastern Ionic tradition of Asia Minor. Archaic Ionic temples, including the sixth-century Artemision at Ephesos,15 apparently all had a very deep pronaos, with the remainder of the inner structure undivided (unless there was an adyton). The temple of Athena at Priene, probably designed soon after 350, seems to be the earliest Eastern Ionic example of a temple with an opisthodomos (fig. 1); but this innovation of Pytheos was soon adopted by designers of the new Artemision at Ephesos and, at the end of the century, in the Artemision at Sardis (figs. 5, 45); in Hellenistic Ionic temples in Asia Minor the opisthodomos is a normal feature. Pytheos also retained the refinements of earlier times; the Priene columns have entasis and, as also later at Didyma, the platform curves upward from the corners to the middle of each side.16 Regrettably, we do not have any earlier Eastern Ionic platforms well enough preserved to show whether they incorporated such curvatures, or whether these features were another of Pytheos’s borrowings from Doric. The Ionic order included no elements potentially as awkward as the Doric frieze; thus, in the interrelationship of the various parts of the temple at Priene (figs. 1, 4b), Pytheos was able to achieve an exactness unequalled in earlier Greek designs.17 The plan of the peristyle was evidently based on a theoretical six-foot unit (6-foot plinths and intervals, 12-foot axial spans, stylobate 66 × 126 feet). Combined with a peristyle of six columns by eleven, the use of absolutely uniform ‘columnar’ and ‘intercolumnar’ units produced an axial rectangle (i.e., measured on the centres of the corner columns) with proportions

7

of exactly 2 : 1 (120 × 60 feet). The columns may have anticipated the slender forms of Hellenistic times; 18 in any event, their proportions and spacing were evidently intended to produce capitals measuring four feet, or one-third of the axial span, from volute-eye to volute-eye. Thus the interval between the volute-eyes of adjoining capitals was 2 × 4 feet, or twice the distance between the volute-eyes of a single capital. The rain-gutter, or sima, above the flank colonnades was decorated with acanthus scrolls, evidently another borrowing from fourth-century Doric; 19 here too the lion-head spouts were spaced at four-foot intervals, so that there was a spout over each volute of each capital and one over the middle of each intercolumnar span. The theoretical length of the interior structure was 100 feet from anta-face to anta-face, its width from the outer face of one side wall to the outer face of the other 40 feet; internally, the theoretical length of the cella was evidently 50 feet, that is, half the overall length of cella plus porches. The actual dimensions, as is often the case, generally vary slightly from those of the theoretical scheme. The latest German investigations have shown that the rinceaux of the anta capitals were richly coloured, probably in blue and gold against a red ground; perhaps fourth-century schemes such as these later inspired the rich polychromy of Ptolemaic Corinthian capitals. The Elder Pliny’s account (however garbled) of the measurements of the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos suggests that a similar concern for precise numerical relationships had already governed Pytheos’s design for the gigantic tomb of the Karian dynast; and in fact Jeppesen believes that here too a theoretical module governed the whole design.20 Many of the uncertainties that have plagued modern ‘restorers’ of the Mausoleum (figs. 200–1) may perhaps be due to the fact that the Elder Pliny’s sources found in Pytheos’s own writings only a statement of numerical relationships rather than a detailed description of the building.21 In later Hellenistic times (ca. 200), the East Greek designer Hermogenes may have been among the first Greek architects with the sort of technical and professional training that Vitruvius later emphasized so strongly; and he obviously shared, and fur-

8

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

ther developed, Pytheos’s passion for precise interrelationships in the measurements of different parts of a temple. He also believed that these should take account of the visual effectiveness of the building, as well as of technical or structural factors. This attitude, so typical of the Hellenistic age, seems to be foreshadowed for the first time in the work of Pytheos, in the middle years of the fourth century.22 There could hardly be a greater contrast within a single region and period than that between the temple of Athena at Priene and the new Artemision at Ephesos.23 The former is modest in scale, but marked throughout by an admirable clarity of design. It abandons the almost excessive Archaic emphasis on front or entrance end; both front and rear facades are hexastyle, with uniform intercolumniations; and the twocolumn pronaos is matched by a two-column opisthodomos. The bases and entablature are still pure Eastern Ionic; but this fact simply illustrates the confidence of East Greek architects in the virtues of their own tradition. In fact, they long remained unwilling to accept the fourth-century Attic combination of figure-frieze and dentils, as well as the third-century combination of Eastern Ionic plinth with Attic base (apparently an innovation of Macedonian architects).24 In general, the design of the temple at Priene seems to foreshadow later Hellenistic developments. The new Artemision, by contrast, was an astonishing mixture of pious archaism and innovation. The temple as a whole (figs. 5–8, 9– 11) followed the outline offered by the Archaic foundations, but with a third row of columns added across the west front, producing a dipteral plan with twenty-one columns on the flanks, in place of the Archaic twenty, but with the Archaic asymmetrical facades (eight columns with graded intercolumniations on the front, nine on the rear).25 As in the earlier building, the ‘cella’ was evidently hypaethral; but the Archaic adyton was replaced by an opisthodomos, in imitation of Pytheos’s plan at Priene.26 Unlike the sixthcentury building, the later Artemision was (figs. 5, 8) raised on a high platform, no doubt chiefly to set it off better from the surrounding area of the sanctuary, rather than simply to raise it above the increasingly damp ground; but this feature is

not original at Ephesos, having already appeared in the later sixth century in the Polykrates temple at Samos.27 As a result of this high platform, after passing through the deep pronaos one descended a flight of steps to the hypaethral interior, as in the temple of Apollo at Didyma. The famous columnae caelatae of the Archaic building were reproduced in contemporary style in the new Ephesian temple (figs. 6–7); 28 the proportions of the columns themselves (17.65 m high, lower diameter 1.84 m) were those of the later fourth century onward, and similar to the Athena temple at Priene. The large rounded borders of the volute-channels of the capitals seem to have been copied from the Archaic temple (figs. 9–10), and are retained even in the latest of the flank capitals, which were probably not carved before ca. 225.29 In view of the late date of completion of the flank colonnades, the acanthus scrolls on the flank simas, with their fluted sheaths, or cauliculi, cannot be assigned to the fourth century; they were therefore not an innovation of the Ephesian designers, but were rather inspired by Pytheos’s work at Priene. Their initial appearance in fourth-century Eastern Ionic, as noted above, had been due to the influence of Doric buildings. The dentils, of which there seem to be no remains, should probably be restored with proportions of mid-Hellenistic date. Ever since J.T. Wood’s discovery, in the 1870s, of sculptured column-drums and pedestals from the later Artemision at Ephesos (figs. 6–8), scholars have been trying to determine the relationship of these members to each other, and the location of the Elder Pliny’s thirty-six columnae caelatae (sculptured columns) in the overall plan of the temple.30 To judge from the find-spots of the fragments, as recorded by Wood and collected by A. Bammer in his 1972 monograph, there were decorated columns at both ends of the building; and there would certainly have been a larger number at the front, or western, facade than at the rear. Beyond this, we can only guess at the location of the decorated columns. Equally problematic is the distribution of the square pedestals and circular drums. Some scholars have suggested that at least on the main facade each decorated column had a sculptured drum surmounting a square pedestal; others

Temples and Sanctuaries have placed the pedestals at the bottom of the antae; and the normal columns mounted on square pedestals in the extant opisthodomos of the Artemision at Sardis suggest yet another possible use for the pedestals at Ephesos.31 In 1965 Bammer advanced a completely new hypothesis, namely, that the pedestals were surmounted by complete columns, including bases, with the carved drums placed at the top of the shaft, immediately below the capital.32 Among other supporting arguments for this placing of the sculptured drums, Bammer noted that these drums were too small to have supported the lower end of a fluted shaft, which would have overhung the ‘Skopas’ drum, for example, by about 5 cm all around. The subsequent discovery of sculptured top-drums in the Smintheion at Chryse (fig. 38 – see below) would seem to confirm Bammer’s thesis – although his argument from the relative dimensions of carved and fluted drums is not perhaps quite conclusive, given the limited number of extant drums of both types and their fragmentary condition, and the possibility that the ‘Skopas’ drum could have had a crown-slab, separate from the drum but resembling the crown moulding of the square pedestals. It could also be argued that if the Ephesian drums were placed at the top of the shaft,

9

the carving would have been some twenty metres above the ground, and thus virtually ‘illegible’ from below; and O. Bingol ¨ initially maintained that carved top drums would be much easier to understand in a relatively small building with fairly wide intercolumnar spaces, such as the Smintheion.33 On the other hand, if the Archaic sculptured drums were really placed as Bammer suggests, the archaizing tendencies of fourth-century designers, as well as the force of tradition, would have virtually compelled adoption of the earlier model.34 On the whole, Bammer’s hypothesis seems to be now generally accepted. In sum, there is no doubt that the new Artemision at Ephesos was both imposing and elegant; with towering forms and rich ornament; the work of the architects Paionios of Ephesos and Demetrios ‘the slave of Artemis’ was worthy of inclusion in the Hellenistic list of the Seven Wonders of the World.35 Yet the building set no really new trends, even for the other Ionic giants at Didyma and Sardis; the majority of important Ionic temples of later times in general followed the new concepts of symmetry so strongly stressed by Pytheos in the design of the temple of Athena at Priene.

B. FROM ALEXANDER THE GREAT TO THE LATE HELLENISTIC PERIOD From the time of Alexander onward many of the trends discernible during the preceding eighty to ninety years continued, and were even intensified. Large-scale projects now usually depended on more or less direct political sponsorship; familiar examples are the temple of Artemis at Sardis, the new Didymaion, the Athenian Olympieion (figs. 45–8, 23–8, 100–3) – the first two extensively, the last entirely sponsored by the Seleukids – the Sarapeion at Alexandria, and the new Hieron on Samothrace (figs. 65, 31).36 Of these, the Sarapeion was probably completed quite quickly, the Samothracian building only in the later second century; work on the others simply ceased whenever the winds of political favour shifted. The temple at Sardis was never completed, and the latest work on the Didymaion (where many elements remained un-

finished) and on the Olympieion belongs to the second century AD. The major shrines and sanctuaries on the Greek mainland and islands generally inspired less religious devotion than had been evident in earlier times. There were no new temples, and not many completely new buildings of any sort, at Olympia, Delphi, Epidauros (after the third century), Delos, and Samos, unless these were the direct gift of a prince; nor, with a few exceptions such as the Olympieion at Athens, do we hear of major new temples in old centres such as Athens, Thebes, and Corinth. On the other hand, some sanctuaries that had previously been of minor importance, in some cases even on the fringe of Greek civilization, enjoyed a new prosperity; the Great Gods of Samothrace and the shrine of Hemithea at Kastabos, and even the Asklepieion on Kos (figs. 20,

10

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

73–4, 82), are good examples.37 Once more, the new prosperity might be the result of political patronage, for instance, of the Epirote monarchy at Dodona, of both Macedonian and Egyptian rulers on Samothrace, and of the Seleukids in the shrines of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ (figs. 15, 31 and 133–5, 97–9) and Lebadeia.38 Patronage of kings, merchants, and sailors probably contributed significantly to new developments at Samothrace, Kos, and Kastabos, and perhaps also in the Xanthian Letoon; such patronage stemmed from the location of these sanctuaries on or near important sea routes.39 The Hellenistic additions to the sanctuary at Thermon and the remodelling of the sanctuary of Athena at Lindos (figs. 73–4) may have been inspired primarily by Aitolian and Rhodian national pride. For whatever reasons, the Hellenistic age certainly witnessed the blossoming of some primitive or obscure cults, such as Hemithea at Kastabos, the Xanthos Letoon, and the Mistress at Lykosoura (figs. 13–14); and new foreign cults were much more common than before, even in the Aegean.40 In many of the older centres, new buildings associated with sanctuaries were likely to be conspicuously placed, and were often showpieces, in the form of altars or new approaches to the temple, rather than major new temples. For example, there was no temple building at Lindos to match the scale and magnificence of the new Propylaia and the Lower Stoa (figs. 73–4); new and imposing altars were built at Kos and Priene (figs. 82, 86a–b); the Stoas of Antigonos and of Philip V and the South Stoa at Delos (fig. 142) completely changed the appearance of Apollo’s precinct and its approaches from the sea; at Delphi, there are the Stoa of Attalos and the new theatre (with the ‘Galatian Stoa’ just outside the sanctuary, and near the theatre), at Olympia, the complex of gymnasium and palaistra with their propyla, and a new gateway to the stadium (figs. 297–300, 131); the sanctuary at Thermon was embellished with stoas and ornamental exedras; and at Dodona a large theatre, a stadium, and a new bouleuterion were constructed (fig. 15).41 Many of the new buildings were directly or indirectly personal commemorations, some large, others relatively small, but all quite con-

trary to the spirit of Classical times. During the thirties of the fourth century, the construction of the Philippeion at Olympia had provided a prototype for such commemorative structures (figs. 192–3). From the Hellenistic period we have the Ptolemaion and Arsinoeion (figs. 133–5, 194–7) and the recently discovered ship monument on Samothrace, the Hall of the Bulls (figs. 16–17) as well as the Monument of Mithridates on Delos (fig. 18), the original Hellenistic form of the Monument of Agrippa at Athens, and the monuments of Aristaineta, Aemilius Paullus, and Prusias at Delphi (figs. 19a–b), following the lead provided by the Daochos group, of the thirties of the fourth century, and the group of the Alexander Hunt.42 New temples, whether large or small, generally continued the innovative trends of the fourth century, though perhaps with less deliberate archaizing. The concern with numbers evident in the design of the temple of Athena at Priene reappears in the temple of Hemithea at Kastabos. Like the Priene temple, this building had a peristyle of 6 × 12 Ionic columns (some 9.5 l.d. in height according to Plommer’s estimate) and a deep pronaos, but no opisthodomos; the pronaos columns were replaced in Roman times in the Corinthian order, but Plommer suggests that the original columns could also have been Corinthian.43 A series of clear and simple numerical relationships can be seen even in the foundations of the building: length of pronaos to length of cella (6 : 12); depth of front pteroma to depth of flank and rear pteromata (4 : 2) and of porch (4 : 6); internal measurements of pronaos (6 × 6) (fig. 20). As Plommer has noted, these relationships were considerably more systematic than had been the case in earlier temples. Plommer also notes Doric features at Kastabos. The same sort of careful planning is also in evidence in the new Doric temple of the oracle of Apollo at Klaros (figs. 21–2); the deep front, or eastern portion of the interior were used chiefly as space for the corridors leading to the ‘basement’ chambers serving the needs of the oracle.44 Gruben has suggested that a similar systematic set of measurements and proportions existed in the design of the new temple of Artemis at Sardis, as drawn up in the late fourth century.

Temples and Sanctuaries The original plan of this building may have called for a dipteral exterior, with uniform intercolumniations (except for a widened central span on the facades), a deep pronaos, and a shallow opisthodomos; 45 the new temple at Didyma could have provided the model for some aspects of the slightly later building at Sardis. If, as seems likely, the new project at Sardis, together with the commencement of large-scale activity at Didyma, was due initially to Lysimachos, and was later (after 281) energetically promoted by the Seleukids,46 the complete break with the tradition of the Archaic Ionic giants may have been due in part to the fact that neither of these monarchs nor their architects had any particular commitment to Eastern Ionic architectural traditions. Like the new Artemision at Ephesos, the new dipteros at Didyma (10 × 21 columns) was raised on a high platform,47 in place of the (presumed) low two-stepped krepis of the Archaic building48 (figs. 23–8); the seventh step, which formed the stylobate, was over 4 m above the ground; 49 and a larger number of lower steps, framed by wing-walls, was therefore provided at the east, or entrance, end of the temple. The stylobate measured 51.13 × 109.34 m; the columns were ca. 19.7 m high, including base and capital, with axial spans of some 5.3 m; thus, the gigantic architraves were raised ca. 23.75 m above the base of the platform, and the total height to the top of the dentil course was over 27 m. Behind the pronaos, a room with two Corinthian columns evidently served as the ‘oracle room’; its floor was ca. 1.5 m above that of the pronaos, from which it was not directly accessible. Behind the oracle room, a great stairway led down to the walled court (fig. 25), referred to in inscriptions as the adyton; as in the Archaic building, a small Ionic naiskos at the back of the court housed the cult-statue. The courtyard was reached from the front of the temple through a pair of inclined barrel-vaulted tunnels leading from the back corners of the pronaos (figs. 25, 27). Thanks to the relatively good state of preservation of the temple at Didyma, and the detailed investigations undertaken by the Germans during the past decades, we know more about the building history of this structure than of any of the other Ionic giants in Asia Minor; and

11

L. Haselberger has discovered a large number of working drawings, incised on the walls of the building, that served as guides for the execution of various portions of the temple from the third quarter of the third century BC to Roman Imperial times. These drawings are sometimes full-scale, as for the profile of column-bases and the outline of a shaft, in other cases at reduced scale, as for the entablature and pediment of the naiskos. The drawings showing the entasis of the shafts are particularly interesting; as in many modern drawings of entasis, the half-diameter of the shaft and the deviation of the entasis from a straight line are both shown full-scale, while the height of the shaft is at a scale of 1 : 16 (obviously 1 dactyl = 1 foot). Presumably these drawings were transposed on to the wall from the architects’ original plans and drawings, executed on a more perishable, but easily portable, material. Sometimes details were modified before execution, as in the case of the base-profiles at Didyma and the ‘Pytheos sketches’ discovered by W. Koenigs in the Athena temple at Priene.50 The wall-socle of the adyton, or walled court, on which the naiskos drawing is incised, is now thought to have been erected not long after 250; the naiskos was doubtless built soon after. Pronaos columns, two-column room, great stairway, and tunnels leading down to the adyton could hardly have been built until the adyton wallsocle was at least near the level of the outer colonnade-floor, and the naiskos was completed. In fact, the Corinthian half-columns at the head of the great stairway (fig. 26) are not earlier than the last quarter of the third century. The earliest column-bases and the moulded wall-base of the pronaos, the completion of work at the sides of the great stairway, the Corinthian columns of the two-column room, and the upper walls and piercapitals of the adyton all seem to belong to the first, the great east doorway and pronaos antacapitals to the second, quarter of the second century. In this same period work on the inner peristasis began; probably no outer columns were erected before the first century BC.51 It has been suggested that most of the major measurements of the new Didymaion were derived from its Archaic predecessor, simply by increasing the earlier dimensions by 50 per cent.52

12

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

If this theory is correct, the Hellenistic temple represents an interesting combination of archaizing trends, of a type already encountered in the late fifth and fourth centuries, with a new interest in precise mathematical relationships. Such a combination would foreshadow the design of the new Doric temple on the uppermost terrace of the Asklepieion at Kos, the plan of which was an enlarged version of the Asklepios temple at Epidauros. A similar combination is found in the addition of progressively larger and more elegant temples to the original temenos at Dodona. At Lindos, the tetrastyle amphiprostyle plan of the Classical temple was reproduced in its late fourth-century successor (figs. 29–30), the facade of which was then echoed, on an increasingly large scale, in the projecting wings of the Hellenistic Propylaia and the Lower Stoa. At Samothrace, remains of earlier and smaller apses have been found inside the apse of the later Hieron, begun in the late fourth but completed only in the later second century (fig. 31). Unfortunately we have no evidence for the form of the main part of the Hieron in earlier times; it is a reasonable, but unprovable, assumption that the resemblance between the earlier and later interiors extended to the overall plan, although the earlier halls must have been smaller in scale. The influence of Pytheos’s design at Priene, probably already seen at Kastabos, seems to have continued at least to the late third century BC. Thus Hermogenes’ design for the temple of Dionysos at Teos (fig. 32), if reflected in the Roman reconstruction, was clearly still under the influence of Pytheos.53 By contrast, the temple of Artemis at Magnesia, in which the pseudodipteral plan appears in fully developed form (figs. 40–4), has usually been regarded as a later work of the architect. The pseudodipteral plan had already been used in earlier Ionic buildings, such as the temple of Aphrodite at Messa on Lesbos, and perhaps in the Smintheion at Chryse in the Troad, if a date ca. 220–10 for the Smintheion is accepted.54 The temple at Messa (figs. 33–5) appears today essentially as excavated by Koldewey over a century ago, apart from some recent reinvestigation by the Greek Service; 55 the Smintheion (figs. 36–9), originally excavated by

the Dilettanti and published in volume 4 of the Antiquities of Ionia, was in recent times used as a building platform by the villagers of Gulp¯ ¨ ınar, and has been cleared, re-excavated, and carefully studied by Turkish archaeologists.56 Some uncertainties remain with respect to the dates of both buildings, and their relationship to each other and to other Ionic temples. Koldewey dated the temple at Messa to the earlier fourth century, and a late Classical date was also proposed by Plommer; most scholars, however, would probably still accept Dinsmoor’s early Hellenistic date.57 The architectural details of the Smintheion (depth of pronaos, form of Lesbian kyma, proportions of architrave sections and of dentils) are clearly later than those found at Messa, but seem to me in some ways earlier than the Artemision at Magnesia. The floral ornament on the faces of the capitals may have been copied from the Artemision at Sardis, or directly inspired by earlier examples of such ornament in Thrace. On the whole, the Smintheion should be no later than ca. 220–210; Bingol, ¨ however, in his analysis of these details, now suggests a date ca. 160–130.58 In any event it is tempting to speculate that this temple, with its lavish decoration, may have been funded in part by the Attalids of Pergamon. While there is nothing obviously Pergamene about the building, it must be remembered that a specifically Pergamene style was only beginning to emerge in the period around 200. There are actually a considerable number of resemblances, as well as stylistic differences, between the Messa and Chryse temples. Both have 8 × 14 pseudodipteral exterior colonnades; they are very similar in overall dimensions (Messa, 22.1 × 39.77 m on the stylobate; Chryse, 22.58 × 40.44 m), the length being about 1.8 times the width; in both buildings the length of the cella is five intercolumnar spans. At Messa, however, the pronaos is only two spans deep; the deeper three-span pronaos at Chryse follows normal Eastern Ionic practice, falling between the fourth-century temple of Athena at Priene (pronaos : cella = 10 : 19) and later Ionic temples such as that at Teos and the temple of Artemis Leukophryene at Magnesia (3 : 4 and 4 : 4 respectively). In the Smintheion, the middle and upper fasciae of the architrave, as well as its

Temples and Sanctuaries crowning moulding, are higher in relation to the bottom fascia than is the case at Messa; in both buildings the height of the frieze-band is about seven-eighths that of the architrave (Messa 87.5%, Chryse 88.6%), the height of the dentils about one-quarter (Messa 26.1%, Chryse 24.1%). In both temples the height of the dentils is the same as the projection, but at Chryse the intervals are narrower. In all these details Chryse is somewhat closer to late Hellenistic norms than is Messa. Also Hellenistic in both buildings are the forms of the Lesbian kyma mouldings; the use of different coloured types of stone at Messa seems to be more in keeping with early Hellenistic than with late Classical practice; and the band of relief figures around the top of some of the columnshafts at Chryse must have been inspired by the columnae caelatae of the new Artemision at Ephesos (figs. 38, 6–7), which may just have been completed when the temple at Chryse was begun. The temple at Messa is also Hellenistic in its mixture of different traditions. The bases, with double scotia surmounted by torus, follow the Eastern Ionic model, but the Eastern Ionic plinth was replaced by a member recalling the bottom member of the Ionic bases in the Athenian Propylaia.59 Somewhat similar bases had already been used in the Nereid Monument at Xanthos in Lykia; probably at both Xanthos and Messa Eastern Ionic forms were modified in accordance with Attic-Ionic custom. The symmetrical front and back porches at Messa, each two spans in depth, seem to be derived from Doric temples of mainland Greece, whereas the Smintheion at Chryse, as already noted, has the deep pronaos and shallow opisthodomos that were customary in Hellenistic Ionic in Asia Minor. The combination of frieze-band and dentils, found in both temples, goes back ultimately to mainland Greek models of the later fourth century, but was probably copied from some well-known Hellenistic prototype in the Aegean or Western Anatolia, for instance, buildings such as the Ptolemaion on Samothrace and the mausoleum at Belevi near Ephesos, which are described elsewhere in this volume (figs. 134, 207). The relationship between the sculptured top drums of the Chryse temple and the columnae caelatae of the Ephesian Artemision has been discussed above.

13

In any case, neither in the Smintheion nor in the temple at Messa was the relationship of flank colonnades to interior columns, and to crosswalls of porches and cella, as carefully planned as in Hermogenes’ new Artemision at Magnesia (figs. 40–4). The Magnesian temple shows an almost totally novel coordination of space in the exterior colonnades and interior rooms; certainly the building seems to have had nothing in common with the plan and forms of its predecessor. The interior columns and crosswalls were all aligned with the flank columns of the exterior (pseudodipteral, 8 columns × 15), so that the outer colonnades and the opisthodomos were each two spans deep, the pronaos and cella each four spans. This arrangement takes account of both solids (walls and internal columns) and interior spaces; thus the subdivisions of the plan are more logical and complete than at Kastabos, where the overall proportions of the spaces do not include the solids. The central span of each facade was widened in accordance with Hermogenes’ theories.60 When work was resumed on the Artemision at Sardis in the early second century, the porches of that building were rearranged in a rather intricate variant of the pseudodipteral plan (fig. 45); and the effects of this rearrangement were further emphasized by a system of graded interaxial spans on the facades, perhaps replacing original uniform spacings as suggested by Gruben for his hypothetical earliest Hellenistic plan.61 In fact, the Ionic pseudodipteros of Hellenistic times is really quite different from the superficially similar Doric examples of the Archaic period. The Hellenistic type, as its name and the description of Vitruvius show,62 was a remodelling of the Ionic dipteros by leaving out something; the Archaic Doric examples were peripteral buildings, with the width of the pteron increased by adding two extra spans to the facades, and by making the end pteromata slightly deeper than usual.63 In any event, both ‘simple’ (Chryse, Magnesia) and ‘complex’ (Sardis) pseudodipteroi represent a further modification of temple designs in the interest of architectural balance and impressiveness; the spacious exterior colonnade noted by Vitruvius was elegantly matched by the rearranged spaces of

14

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

porches and cella. Yet this approach to the design of the temple puts the sacred naos on the same level as external things – the ‘part in front of the naos’ (pronaos), the ‘back structure’ (opisthodomos), the outer colonnade (pteron) – whose very names, as well as ease of access in the case of the pteron, show that they were no part of the sacred house, in which the temple statue represented the visible physical presence of the god or goddess. On the other hand, the experiments with systematically graded intercolumniations, out of which Hermogenes’ ‘eustyle system’ evolved, clearly began even before his day. Enlarged central spans had been normal in Archaic Ionic in Asia Minor, and had been preserved in the fourth century at Ephesos, despite their abandonment both in Classical Attic work (Nike and Ilissos temples) and in Pytheos’s design at Priene (fig. 1), the new Didymaion (fig. 23), and perhaps the original plan of the new Artemision at Sardis. Yet in the earlier and later Artemisia at Ephesos, and in the Polykrates temple at Samos, there had evidently been no precise mathematical basis for the enlargement of the central spans. Even the Hellenistic pteron at Sardis (fig. 45) can hardly be described as a carefully worked-out scheme; perhaps the axial spans were the result of adapting graded intercolumniations to the plan of a naos that had been designed for a dipteral exterior with uniform spacings. In other Hellenistic designs, such as the Doric temple at Alabanda, Hermogenes’ pseudodipteros at Magnesia (fig. 40), and some of the prostyle designs at Pergamon,64 there is a systematic widening of the central intercolumniation, or intercolumniations; and the temple at Teos (fig. 32), thought to be one of Hermogenes’ earlier works, in part conforms to the architect’s ideal ‘eustyle’ plan, although without the widened central span.65 By late Hellenistic times widened central spans were evidently the rule rather than the exception; such systems were readily accepted by the architects of central Italy, whose tradition of wooden construction had led them to regard a wide intercolumnar space in front of the temple door as a normal feature.66 As we have seen, from the fourth century onward new temples were often rather small in scale; examples occur in many different regions,

such as the temples of Artemis at Epidauros and of Hemithea at Kastabos, Temple B in the Asklepieion at Kos and the new temple at Lindos (though Kos probably and Lindos certainly were the result of deliberate copying of an earlier design) (figs. 20, 407, 29), the temples of Athena, Demeter, and Hera Basileia at Pergamon, the early Pergamene temple of the Mother of the Gods at Mamurt Kale (figs. 69, 68, 294, very top, 168),67 the two temples of which significant remains have been discovered at Alabanda, the temples of Zeus east of the agora at Priene and in the agora at Magnesia (figs. 120, 406), all known Hellenistic temples in Macedonia and Thrace, the temples of Zeus at Megalopolis, Stratos, and Dodona (figs. 66, 15), the Hellenistic temple of Asklepios at Akragas in Sicily (fig. 50), as well as buildings of more obviously Italic character, such as the ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple at Paestum (fig. 51). There were certainly some really large buildings, for example, Didyma, Sardis, and the Athenian Olympieion (figs. 23, 44, 100); but even temples inspired by almost purely political considerations, such as the new temple of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ (fig. 97), might be of small or of medium size rather than large.68 We have already noted that Lysimachos and the Seleukids had no particular commitment to Eastern Ionic traditions; indeed, none of the Hellenistic monarchies seems to have shared the pro-Ionic and anti-Doric prejudices of Pytheos, Hermogenes, and other Eastern Ionic theorists.69 In the East Greek region, Lysimachos’s new temple of Athena at Troy, the temple of Athena at Pergamon, and the new temple of Apollo at Klaros (figs. 21–2) were important Doric ‘intruders’ of the third century; 70 and there were several smaller Doric temples at Pergamon itself and elsewhere in Pergamene territory.71 Probably the use of Doric at Klaros was due to the temple having been sponsored by a Hellenistic king (probably a Seleukid, but possibly a Ptolemy) who was less interested in East Greek architectural traditions than in emphasizing the relationship of the shrine at Klaros to the more famous sanctuaries of Apollo at Delphi and Delos. A similar willingness to accept both Ionic and Doric had already appeared in Hekatomnid work at Labraynda and Amyzon.72

Temples and Sanctuaries The new temple at Klaros was a Doric building of considerable size, at ca. 26 m as wide as, or wider than, all but a few Classical Doric temples, but with the short, wide proportions of later Doric (length ca. 46.5 m, peristyle 6 columns × 11). In its present form, the special requirements of the oracular cult were served by an interior of unusual plan, with a slightly raised cella, the floor of which is supported on a series of transverse stone arches spanning the ‘anteroom’ and ‘oracle room’ in the basement (fig. 21–2). The basement rooms were accessible by a complex system of corridors and steps. At least in Roman times, the oracle was always consulted at night, and the seer entered the inner basement room in complete darkness. New excavations, however, between 1988 and 1997 have shown that the existing building dates from the second century, perhaps as late as the years immediately following the establishment of the Roman province of Asia in 133.73 To the east of the temple was the large altar of Apollo (ca. 9 × 18.5 m, including the steps). The colossal figures of Apollo, Artemis, and Leto found in the cella are of Roman date.74 The arched underpinnings of the cella floor at Klaros are the most striking and unusual feature of the temple, and may be the work of an architect outside the mainstream of Aegean temple architecture, but familiar with the later fourthcentury development of arch and vault in Macedonia. A Macedonian architect working for Antiochos II would meet these conditions; and we also know of important examples of Doric associated with both the Antiochene and the Alexandrian dynasties. In Egypt, there is the Doric temple at Hermopolis Magna, built in the reign of Ptolemy III (died 221); 75 and in the next century Antiochus IV (175–164) probably commenced the work on an important new Doric temple of Zeus at Lebadeia in Boiotia – one of many projects that remained unfinished after the king’s untimely death.76 Doric was also used, perhaps in late Hellenistic times, for the little peripteros (4 columns by 6 – perhaps not a temple) at Cape Zephyrion near Alexandria (fig. 54), and for the late Hellenistic tomb of Hamrath at Suweida in Syria (fig. 422); unfortunately both these buildings are now destroyed.77 In any event, whatever the reasons for the use of Doric at Klaros, the short wide

15

peristyle and the proportions of the order were typically early Hellenistic, and were retained in the Roman completion (or reconstruction) of the building. The Letoon near Xanthos in Lykia (figs. 55, 57–60), where the excavated buildings still await detailed publication, provides an excellent illustration of the Hellenistic tendency to clothe nonGreek cults in Greek dress, though on a scale that did not inhibit completion of individual architectural projects. Down to the end of the fifth century, Lykian architecture had been unmistakably non-Greek, whereas the influence of Greek sculptural style had long been evident. Even in monuments of the earlier fourth century, such as the Nereid Monument at Xanthos itself (fig. 56) and the Heroon at Limyra (fig. 198), we are still dealing with a native Lykian type of commemorative monument that is increasingly modified through the influence of Greek, and especially of Ionic, temple-architecture. Only from the later fourth century onward does the Hellenization of Lykian architecture become really complete.78 For a long time the goddess of the Letoon was probably only a local Xanthian divinity; the earliest deposits in her sacred precinct go back at least to the early seventh century. She may not have been identified with Leto until ca. 400 or a little later, when the cult evidently became a national Lykian institution, rather than simply local. At this time, the earliest extant temple structure was built on the site of the later Letoon (Temple A); later in the fourth century the cult of Basileus Kaunios was also installed in the sanctuary (in the Lykian structure beneath the cella of Temple B?).79 There is still no indication that either of these pre-Hellenistic structures reproduced in detail the forms of a Classical Greek temple. Indeed, it was only in the earlier part of the second century that Temple A, a hexastyle Ionic peripteros with eleven columns on the flanks, replaced the early fourth-century building; it measured ca. 33.25 × 15.75 m, and is identified by an inscribed dedication as the temple of Leto.80 By this time, combinations of orders and an interest in decorative detail were normal traits of Hellenistic architecture. Thus the cella of Temple A had a series of interior half-columns of the Corinthian order (still, however, with single,

16

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

rather than double, quarter-columns in the corners). The ‘false’ opisthodomos, with two halfcolumns in antis, lies outside the normal development of Hellenistic Ionic, though it is paralleled in the temple of Asklepios at Akragas in Sicily (also ‘Serapis’ at Taormina); and the internal subdivisions are much less carefully planned than in the more or less contemporary work of Hermogenes at Magnesia (fig. 40). Thus in place of the lengthwise division of the Magnesian Artemision according to a 2 : 4 : 4 : 2 : 2 scheme (front pteron–pronaos–cella–opisthodomos–rear pteron), the Letoon used 2 : 2 1/2 : 4 1/2 : (0 : )1. Moreover, the internal width of the cella was set at three interaxial spans, so that the outer faces of the lateral walls fell outside the perimeter of the second and fifth columns on each facade; normally the axes of these columns and of the lateral walls coincide. The cella seems to have been completed some decades later than the peristyle. Probably between 150 and 100, a second temple (B) was built to the east of Temple A. Temple B, too, was a 6 × 11 peripteros, but Doric rather than Ionic.81 It measures 27.97 × 15.07 m; the excavators suggest that it may have been planned as a ‘hekatompedos’ (100 ft of 0.28 m). The stylobate consisted as far as possible of blocks of ‘standard’ size (two blocks per span); as might be expected, the frieze contained two triglyphs over each interval. The late style of the ornament seems to preclude a date before 150.82 The exact nature of Building E, standing between Temples A and B, is still uncertain; while date and function have not been definitely established, this structure may have been an altar of natural rock enclosed within an architectural frame of Greek style and design.83 With all three orders represented in the two temples, and a large Doric portico in the northern part of the precinct, the Hellenistic Letoon must have been among the most important architectural complexes in southwestern Asia Minor. Most of the building activity probably took place during the period when Lykia had been declared independent by the Roman Senate. Yet Lykian architecture must have been affected by the Pergamene presence in Karia, to the north, and in Pamphylia, to the east, and would also have been exposed to Seleukid and Ptolemaic in-

fluences, as a result of the ‘international’ traffic using the major sea lanes along the coast.84 The use of Corinthian, which was never popular either in Hellenistic Pergamon or elsewhere in the Pergamene domains of western Asia Minor, was doubtless the result of one or other of these latter influences. Doric temples of course are found in Asia Minor even during the ‘Ionic Renaissance’ of the middle and later fourth century, for instance, at Amyzon, where the building is associated with the Hekatomnids of Karia; the Amyzon temple was approached through a propylon with two Ionic columns in antis on each facade.85 Nevertheless, the thoroughgoing combination of all three orders within the relatively limited area of the Xanthian Letoon, as well as the absence of direct copying of forms from Aegean Anatolia, suggests that the Lykians continued to develop a highly eclectic architectural tradition of their own. The vaulted entrances of the Letoon theatre, framed by engaged ornament of Doric style (fig. 63), have been dated ca. 100 BC, and perhaps indicate that the lively eclecticism of Lykian architecture was still flourishing during the first generation or two of Roman dominion in western Asia Minor.86 Such architectural forms are more common in the Italo-Hellenistic style of the second to first centuries BC than in eastern Mediterranean contexts; the Lykian architect, however, used two different designs for the engaged orders of the two entrances, where an Italic architect would almost certainly have used the same design for both. In the Hellenistic Aegean, new sanctuaries were often located in or near major built-up areas of the city; the temples of Athena and Zeus at Priene, of Artemis and Zeus at Magnesia, of Dionysos and Hera Basileia at Pergamon, and the Agora temples at Pergamon and Assos (figs. 154, 113) are familiar examples. The location of temples in major public areas such as the forum was commonplace in the Roman world, and was perhaps more frequent in the Seleukid and Ptolemaic kingdoms than in the cities of the Aegean. Thus at Antioch we hear of the temple built by Seleukos Nikator ‘in the agora,’ to honour an old local deity Hellenized under the name of Zeus Bottios, or Bottiaios, and also of a shrine of the Muses that was burned, ‘along with

Temples and Sanctuaries the greater part of the agora’ and the councilhouse built by Antiochos IV, during the reign of Tiberius.87 Similarly, at Alexandria, while the Sarapeion had its own spacious precinct in the southwest quarter of the city (fig. 65), the Paneion, and the shrine of the Muses that gave the famous museum its name, both formed part of larger complexes of buildings.88 In such locations, it became increasingly important to emphasize the existence of the sacred precinct, especially its entrance from the street or square outside, and to make the view across the precinct from entrance to temple facade as effective as possible. This requirement almost inevitably led to further emphasis on the appearance of the temple from in front. The location of the Roman, and probably also of the Hellenistic, propylon of the Sarapeion at Alexandria is unusual in affording no view at all of the temple facade; but there may have been special ‘local’ reasons for this arrangement, as there certainly were for the rather similar situation in the precinct of Athena Polias at Pergamon (figs. 69–72).89 Where temple and precinct were both quite small, the temple was likely to be placed toward the rear of the sacred enclosure, in order to accommodate an altar while still leaving sufficient open space for viewing the temple from the entrance to the temenos. Thus there might be virtually no open space between the temple platform and the rear wall of the enclosure, as, for instance, in the precinct of Zeus to the east of the agora at Priene (fig. 120). In some cases, where the area of the precinct was quite restricted part of the temple actually projected beyond the rectangle of the enclosed temenos, as in the sanctuary of Zeus at Dodona (fig. 15.E1); and the facade of the temple of Zeus at Megalopolis projected scarcely at all beyond the line of the stoas enclosing the small precinct (fig. 66), thus leaving virtually the whole of the square enclosure for the altar and for the setting up of small dedications. The Hellenistic temenos was frequently given a more monumental, and more clearly inwardfacing, appearance by the addition of colonnades on one, two, or more sides. A fairly large early Hellenistic stoa was built along one side of the precinct of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ in Rough Cilicia; 90 in the precinct of Zeus at Priene there

17

was at first only one, later two colonnades; the sanctuaries of Athena at Pergamon and of Zeus at Dodona were colonnaded on three sides, while that of Zeus at Megalopolis was provided with stoas on all four sides; and there was at least one stoa at Hermopolis Magna in Egypt.91 The new emphasis on the temenos and propylon, or entrance, in relation to the temple, was really a further secularizing of religious architecture at the expense of the sacred naos. Whereas in very early times ‘sacredness’ had been more important than mere size, the later Archaic period had already begun to identify ‘numinousness’ with magnificence. By late Classical times, the cost of large temple projects had become increasingly burdensome; in any event, more attention was now given to the placing and design of the propylon, at least in cases where entranceway, open area, altar, and temple formed a single coherent unit. Yet Hellenistic architects seldom favoured the strict axiality so popular with their Roman successors. The ‘axiality’ of the Hellenistic Sarapeion precinct at Alexandria may have included a propylon in the middle of the short end that is now covered by a Moslem cemetery; the location of the Roman propylon, however, in the middle of one long side, so that the temple was first seen from the flank, suggests that the Hellenistic arrangement was probably similar. At Hermopolis Magna, the elements definitely attested, whether by the building inscription or by actual remains, include the temple, a stoa or stoas, and a propylon; but whether this layout was ‘axial,’ or indeed completely rectangular, remains uncertain.92 In Roman Syria, too, it is likely that axially planned Roman precincts, such as Baalbek, were based on Seleukid models; at Baalbek the great temple, at least, had a Hellenistic predecessor.93 The theory of axially planned Hellenistic precincts, however, still awaits confirmation by discovery of actual datable Hellenistic examples; the temple and walled court at Konkobar (Kangavar) in Iran, once thought to be Hellenistic, seem to belong to a Parthian rebuilding of a Seleukid structure.94 In fact, Hellenistic architects seem to have been interested primarily in group designs in which the entrance was conspicuous and effectively placed when seen from outside the precinct

18

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

(e.g., in the relationship of the entrance to a city street or ‘sacred way’), while at the same time offering effective views (more often than not from an angle rather than from directly in front) of temple, altar, and surrounding stoas, if such existed.95 In some precincts temple and propylon were axially aligned, but neither lay on the axis of the temenos (e.g., Dodona); in others, all elements were laid out on a single axis (e.g., at Magnesia, Megalopolis, and the Doric temple at Alabanda). Sometimes the temple lay on the main axis, the propylon off-centre, for instance, Demeter at Pergamon (fig. 68) and Asklepios at Kos (fig. 407), or the arrangement may be reversed, as at Lindos (fig. 29); elsewhere again, neither temple nor entranceway is on the axis of the temenos as a whole (though, as in the shrine of Zeus at Priene, the temple may have been centred in the open space). In still other examples, the temple was not approachable from in front at all, so that the view from the propylon was of the flank or rear of the sacred building, for instance, in the temple of Athena at Pergamon and the Sarapeion at Alexandria (fig. 65). In addition, an increasing number of Hellenistic temples faced along the length (Assos, Pergamon) or across the width (Magnesia) of the agora. Yet even where there was more than one period in the construction of the whole complex (e.g., Athena at Pergamon, Asklepios at Kos, and Athena at Lindos), and the influence of traditional sacred spots was strong (e.g., at Kos and Lindos), Hellenistic architects normally aimed at a harmonious visual relationship between the different elements. Small temples formed an effective closure of otherwise ill-defined areas of the agoras at Pergamon (Upper Agora) and Assos; at Pergamon, the temple of Hera Basileia made use of the Upper Gymnasium, that of Dionysos of the theatre terrace, as a sort of forecourt; a similar arrangement recurs in the theatre terrace at Aigai; at Dodona and Megalopolis, the regular lines of the enclosing stoas led the eye onward to the temple facade opposite the entranceway. In the precinct of Athena at Pergamon (fig. 72), the long lines of the stoas drew the visitor forward from the propylon to the temple, which stood out boldly against the backdrop of landscape and sky; and the complexes at Kos

and Lindos (figs. 73–6) were designed to provide imposing architectural vistas from below, as well as effective views over the architectural elements to the landscape and seascape beyond.96 At Olympia, the Echo Stoa, begun in the fourth century but not completed until much later, was intended to define the eastern border of the central monumental area; and the South Stoa soon filled this role along the southern boundary (figs. 77–8). The importance of such visual effects in later fourth-century and Hellenistic architecture is shown, on the one hand, by Aristotle’s recommendation that city walls be as imposing as possible, on the other, by the acid comment of Herakleides (pseudo-Dicaearchus) on the mean and unsightly streets of Athens.97 In most Hellenistic sanctuaries, the scale of altar and propylon was directly related to that of temple and temenos. For example, the entrance to the sanctuary of Zeus at Priene was quite small, as befitted a small temple and temenos; the propylon of the Athena precinct, probably of Augustan date, was a good deal larger and more pretentious.98 Yet the temple of Athena was neither large in itself nor located in a large temenos with enclosing stoas (fig. 79); thus the propylon was modest in scale compared with that of the Athena precinct at Pergamon (fig. 71), where the entrance was designed to match, not merely the temple, but the spaciousness of the precinct and the impressiveness of the surrounding stoas. Whether or not the precinct of Artemis at Ephesos had been provided with enclosing colonnades by late Hellenistic times, for practical reasons the entrance to this precinct must have been set off in some manner from the rest of the peribolos wall.99 The form of the propylaia of Artemis at Magnesia, clearly set off by its height, order, and gabled facade from the adjoining stoas of the agora (fig. 81), suggests one form that the Ephesian propylon may have taken; the propylon giving access to the lower colonnaded terrace in the Asklepieion on Kos was smaller in relation to the area enclosed (fig. 82), but rather more conspicuous by virtue of standing at the head of the only stairway leading from the level of the Sacred Way to that of the lower terrace. Among the larger examples of propyla mentioned in the preceding paragraph, those at

Temples and Sanctuaries Priene (Athena), Pergamon (Athena), and Kos faced out toward a street or Sacred Way. In the first case, the propylon formed the backdrop for a major east–west thoroughfare (‘Athena Street’), and was also a conspicuous element for those ascending from the agora, by virtue of projecting across most of the width of the stepped north– south street. At Pergamon, the Athena Propylon was the first major element of decorative architecture that the visitor encountered on entering the confines of the citadel. The propylon of the Kos Asklepieion stood out, long before the visitor reached it, as the only decorative columnar treatment in the (probably) otherwise blank north wall of the lower terrace. At Klaros, the propylon presumably stood in its present position, as the culmination of a Sacred Way that approached the sanctuary from the seaward side, more or less at right angles to the orientation of the temple. At Eleusis, when the Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher were added to the complex ca. 50 BC, their location was determined by the course of the Sacred Way leading from Athens and by the availability of space for a reasonably imposing structure (figs. 139–41); here again, visitors approached the main building from the side rather than from directly in front.100 In some smaller complexes, the treatment of the entranceway seems to have been intended to compensate for the modest dimensions of the temple by deliberately echoing its design on the same, or even a larger, scale. Thus, the propylon at Dodona repeated on virtually identical scale the facade of the Ionic temple; at Lindos, the tetrastyle Doric facade of the little fourth-century temple of Athena was repeated in the tetrastyle wings of the Propylaia, the plan of which was then echoed on a still larger scale in the winged stoa and column-screen at the foot of the monumental stairway (figs. 29–30). In passing, it is interesting to note that the cult of the goddess Lindia, only later identified with Athena, may have originated in a natural setting of cliff and cave, just as that of Zeus at Dodona was traditionally associated with the open air, with the priests sleeping outside on the ground.101 At Didyma, the focal point of the cult of Apollo, from later Archaic times onward, was

19

the complex of sacred spring, laurel grove, and the naiskos that housed the statue; spring and naiskos were both located in the western part of a large hypaethral court, described in inscriptions as the adyton. This term is normally reserved for the innermost, or at least the most sacred, part of the naos, or cella. Perhaps, then, at both Lindos and Dodona, the whole complex of temple and courtyard was regarded as the shrine or ‘temple’ of the deity; however, in place of the unadorned primitive cave (or little temple above the cave) at Lindos, and the oak-tree enclosure at Dodona, both the Archaic and the Hellenistic designers at Didyma framed the open adyton with the traditional forms of temple architecture, while still retaining its open-air character.102 Such architectural symbolism is paralleled in Hellenistic times by the use of sculpture for symbolic purposes, for instance, as seen in the choice of themes for the frieze of the Great Altar of Zeus at Pergamon. A similar interpretation may be offered for the plan of the shrine of Zeus Soter at Megalopolis; if we regard him as the urbanized descendant of the old storm-god of Mt Lykaion,103 it would be entirely fitting that a large part of his shrine be open to the sky. It may be noted further that the architectural definition of the courtyard becomes progressively more complete as we move from the late fourth-century propylaia and court at Lindos to the late third-century form of the Dodona complex. Typologically, the shrine of Zeus at Megalopolis is much closer to Dodona than to Lindos; it seems to date from the period of the city’s foundation, and would thus be the earliest known example, even though on a small scale, of a temple court completely enclosed by colonnades. The history of the monumental altar in Hellenistic religious architecture closely parallels that of the propylon. In major Greek sanctuaries an altar of considerable size was normally required for the proper functioning of a cult in which burnt offerings played a part. It was also desirable that the altar should be raised above the surrounding ground level, both to stress its centrality in the public ceremonies of the cult, and also, it would seem, to make the ceremonies visible, through the open doors of the naos, to the deity whose presence was symbolized by the statue

20

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

in the cella. Thus the actual altar-table was often placed on a platform in front of the temple, with a stairway flanked by wing-walls ascending on the side toward the temple. For practical reasons, the level area between the top of the stairway and the back of the platform was enclosed at the ends and across the back by parapets that continued the line of the wing-walls of the stairway. Since Greek practice commonly allowed a large mound, or cone, of ashes from the sacrifices to accumulate on top of the altar-table, the table was also surrounded by a coping or crown, at least along the ends and across the back. Already in the sixth century the crown-course of wing-walls, parapets, and altar-table was likely to be given elaborate architectural ornament, as in the great altar of Hera at Samos.104 The sixthcentury altar enclosure at Ephesos was also very large, and of unusual design and orientation; and a new altar enclosure of monumental form and proportions was subsequently constructed to accompany the Hellenistic temple (fig. 83). The Ephesian altars, for reasons doubtless connected with the pre-Greek history of the cult, not only had a north–south orientation, at right angles to the axis of the temple, but also were approached from the west, that is, from the side facing away from the temple.105 The new altar of Artemis, whatever its date in relation to the temple, may now be seen as the prototype of later Hellenistic altars, having a decorative column-screen on both inner and outer face of the wall enclosing the low altar complex. Thus, the actual altar-table was set within a small ‘colonnaded court.’ The best known and most elaborate of its Hellenistic successors is the Great Altar of Zeus at Pergamon (figs. 84–5); but other smaller (though still monumental) altars have been found, for instance, at Priene and Magnesia, and in the Asklepieion on Kos (figs. 86–8, 82).106 Unfortunately, there is considerable uncertainty regarding both the date and the exact form of these smaller examples. Thus, the altar of Athena at Priene has been dated from ca. 300 to the time of Hermogenes (earlier second century); the German excavators of Magnesia thought that the colonnaded treatment of the altar of Artemis did not extend across the top of the stairway or project forward above the wing-

walls; 107 and while the final form of the altar at Kos seems to belong to the period ca. 160–150 (i.e., a decade or so later than the Altar of Zeus at Pergamon), it is thought that the second-century builders may simply have reconstructed in marble an earlier altar, with architectural treatment in poros, perhaps erected as early as the end of the fourth century (i.e., in the same general period as the construction of the little Ionic temple B).108 Clearly, then, it is difficult to say to what extent the Pergamene altar was indebted to any of these other structures, or whether it served as their prototype. The monumental altar, as understood by Hellenistic architects, seems to have originated in Archaic Ionia; and the columnar altar-platform on a socle or podium, perhaps used for the first time at Ephesos, may have been inspired by the design of the gigantic tomb of Mausollos at Halikarnassos.109 Yet at Pergamon further development has taken place, so that temple, sculptures, and monumental altar are now combined into a single structure – the only building in the sacred temenos, and one that surpassed in scale and magnificence many temples of the Classical period. If, as seems likely, the design of the altar at Priene can be dated to the earlier Hellenistic period, it may represent a phase intermediate between Ephesos and Pergamon, with further development of the columnar ornament and the addition of largescale sculptured figures.110 Even in their decision to concentrate all efforts on the altar alone, the Pergamene designers may have been to some extent inspired by earlier examples of large altars that were expressly designed for making a magnificent spectacle of public sacrifices, and had no temple associated with them. During the reign of Hiero II of Syracuse (275–216), probably between ca. 241 and Hiero’s death (i.e., perhaps as much as fifty years before the construction of the Pergamene altar), an unknown Syracusan architect had designed for Zeus Eleutherios an altar of enormous scale and with elaborate architectural ornament; this altar measured ca. 200 × 23 m on plan, and rose to an overall height of twelve metres or more.111 The vast structure was certainly crowned by a sima with lion-head spouts; but although there

Temples and Sanctuaries was a -shaped colonnade facing the altar on the west, and the approach ramps were flanked by statues, there seem to be no remains of columnar ornament on the altar itself, or of relief sculpture either in the manner of the Pergamene frieze or in the form of individual figures, as at Priene and Magnesia. Like the Pergamene example, the Syracusan altar seems to have stood independently of any temple, and is thus the earliest known Hellenistic version of the monumental type later used with such sophistication at Pergamon. Here, as in other instances, Syracusan architects possibly drew some of their inspiration from Alexandria; in that event, Alexandrian models could also have influenced the Pergamene designers. Doubtless, too, Archaic models, such as the altar of Hera at Samos and the elaborate ‘throne’ of Apollo at Amyklai in Lakonia described by Pausanias,112 were familiar to Hellenistic architects. In any case, whatever the history of Hellenistic monumental altars, and wherever the type originated, it is clear that fourth-century and Hellenistic designers created what was virtually a new, and peculiarly Hellenistic, form of religious architecture. The monumental altars of Pergamon and Syracuse have no real Classical parallels, and few, if any, successors in Roman Imperial times. Whatever their shortcomings as expressions of genuine religious feeling, as architecture they must have been extraordinarily impressive, and were very much sui generis. West of the Adriatic the influence of Hellenistic models must have been responsible for the change from the uncoordinated character of earlier Italic designs to the visually more imposing schemes of the later Republic, even though this development generally followed an Italic rather than a Hellenistic course.113 Like their Greek counterparts, early Italic temples (including Roman) normally had an open space around, and especially in front of, the actual temple building in which the statue was housed. This open space, however, as in the Area Capitolina at Rome, frequently had no regular or clearly defined form. Indeed, some early Roman temples used as their open space the forum or other major public areas, which were themselves still irregular in shape; the temples of Saturn and of

21

Castor and Pollux in the Forum Romanum are familiar examples. In mid-Hellenistic times, but before the onset of strong Hellenistic influences in local architecture, the temples on the Arx at Cosa were still haphazardly placed in relation both to each other and to the open space of the hilltop (fig. 89); much the same may be said both of the Republican area sacra in which the temple of Hercules Victor at Ostia stood and of the evolution of such precincts in Rome as that of the Largo Argentina (fig. 380). Even in the regular grid patterns of Roman military colonies, it was usually only ‘state’ temples such as the Capitolium that were closely integrated into the plan of squares and streets; thus, the precinct of Magna Mater at Ostia was large, with straight sides, but certainly not closely organized, let alone rectangular. From the second quarter of the second century BC onward, quite a different situation prevailed. A colonnade with Corinthian capitals, the Porticus Octavia or Corinthia, was constructed by Cn. Octavius in 168; this building may have been the first important example of the Corinthian order in Rome.114 The first marble temple in Rome, that of Jupiter Stator in the Porticus Metelli, built some twenty to thirty years after the Porticus Octavia, was designed by the Cypriote architect Hermodorus; the plan, a 6 × 11 peripteros, seems to have been purely Hellenistic.115 This temple, with the companion temple of Juno Regina, was already placed within a completely colonnaded precinct, presumably then as later of rectangular shape.116 After the later second century, temples located axially within a rectangular precinct were commonplace in the newer Roman designs; and much more was done to organize and regularize the open areas and approaches of older sanctuaries than had been attempted earlier. Furthermore, along with the new emphasis on axial alignments throughout the whole complex, there is a conscious attempt to produce imposing, not to say spectacular, visual effects, both in the complex as a whole when seen from outside and from the point of entry into, and from many viewpoints within, the precinct itself. The most familiar, as well as the most striking, example of the new style is the sanctuary of Fortuna Primigenia at Praeneste (fig. 90), where

22

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

it now seems likely that Sulla’s architects were working within the framework of a plan already established in the latter part of the preceding century.117 By the end of the first quarter of the first century Praeneste was certainly not an isolated example of its type; the same reaching for visual effectiveness is found in the (presumably) Sullan form of the shrine of Hercules at Tivoli, and even more strikingly in that of Jupiter at Terracina (fig. 92). By contrast, the better-preserved round and rectangular temples overlooking the Anio gorge at Tivoli (figs. 93–4) are still in the broad sense designed in the ‘archaic’ manner, even though the materials and style of ornament were those of the Late Republican era. These temples seem to have been crowded together without any real attempt at effective layout; moreover, unlike the temple of Hercules lower down the hill at Tivoli and the complex at Terracina, they ‘turn their backs on the view.’118 Perhaps this situation was due to the influence of earlier buildings and sacred spots; the two temples at Tivoli would then be to some extent analogous to the small and unimposing temple buildings of the later fourth century at Kos and Lindos (figs. 76, 82). The use of the Corinthian order on the exterior of the round temple at Tivoli, as well as the employment of the circular plan, both here and in Argentina Temple B at Rome, is ultimately due to Greek influence; 119 the design of the Tivoli capitals, however, is Roman, or at least Italic, rather than Greek. The popularity of circular structures had grown steadily in Greek lands from the late fifth and early fourth centuries onward; and during the third century Corinthian had become firmly established as an exterior order.120 Both forms became favourites with Roman architects (cf. the round marble temple in the Forum Boarium at Rome); both, but especially the round building, were elaborated into a surprising variety of forms under the Empire. The new visual effects at Tivoli, Terracina, and other sites were of several different types, and often have no Classical or Hellenistic Greek antecedents. For example, while the terracing at Praeneste is clearly related to the schemes at Lindos and Kos, it embraces a much greater vertical rise than either of these, and is marked by a strong axiality that was foreign to most Greek

designs (cf. figs. 29–30 and 82 with fig. 90). Moreover, both Praeneste and the Hercules temple at Tivoli were provided with a small theatre in front of the temple.121 This feature was an innovation of the Romans, and added to the ground plan a striking contrast of curvilinear and rectilinear shapes that is effectively echoed in elevation by the frequent use of arched forms.122 At Terracina there was a different kind of emphasis. From outside, and especially from a distance, the whole complex seems almost to hang in the air (figs. 92, 95), as a result of being built out over the steep slopes of the hill on a series of supporting vaults.123 Even so, the approaches, designed for maximum effect at the point of entry rather than for effective views of the temple from a sacred way, do not fully prepare visitors for the vista of temple, precinct, sea, and sky that unfolds before them when they finally reach the open area of the sanctuary. There is, I think, nothing like this in the Hellenistic world; as we shall remark elsewhere, the contrast between the Hellenistic and the Roman approach is strikingly illustrated by the juxtaposition of the complexes of Athena Polias and the Trajaneum at Pergamon (fig. 398, above and to left of theatre).124 Although Hellenistic architects were quite familiar with the arch and vault, it apparently never occurred to them to use these techniques in the Roman manner, to create the large level terraces on steeply sloping hillsides that Roman architects created at Terracina and Pergamon. The development of Italo-Hellenistic temple designs is easier to trace than the contributions of Ptolemaic and Seleukid architects in the same field. Nevertheless, despite the paucity of the evidence, and its often unsatisfactory nature, it seems clear that both Seleukids and Ptolemies were, as one might expect, very active in the building or rebuilding of temples, and were also keenly aware of the propaganda value of such architectural activity. In the latter respect they seem to have surpassed both the Antigonids of Macedonia and the Attalids of Pergamon. Perhaps this situation was due to the constant necessity of reconciling Greek and non-Greek viewpoints among their subjects; such reconciliation would of course have helped to improve the internal efficiency of the Syrian and Egyptian king-

Temples and Sanctuaries doms, and would doubtless also have encouraged allegiance to, and acceptance of, the policies of the reigning monarch. Perhaps the outstanding example of the hybrid Graeco-Egyptian cults of Ptolemaic times is that of Sarapis, established under Ptolemy I. Despite the Egyptian origins of the cult, and the location of the Alexandrian sanctuary in the Egyptian quarter of Rhakotis, the worship of Sarapis was apparently more effective in persuading the Greek subjects of the Ptolemies to ‘think Egyptian’ than in Hellenizing the Egyptian population.125 Yet it was doubtless the value of the cult as a ‘political’ instrument, as well as its ‘religious’ popularity, that caused Ptolemy III (247–221) to undertake the construction of a magnificent new temple and precinct in honour of Sarapis. True to the hybrid origins of the new cult, the remains of the Sarapeion, uncovered in the later years of the Second World War (fig. 65), suggest that the architecture of the new Hellenistic complex was perhaps almost as much Egyptian as Greek in character, whatever the form of its Roman successor may have been.126 S. Handler has indeed suggested that the original Sarapeion had a facade of Corinthian columns; 127 if her theory could be substantiated, it would indicate a preponderance of Greek elements in the design, and would certainly make the Sarapeion the earliest known example of a major Corinthian temple facade, by a margin of some threequarters of a century.128 Unfortunately, the entrance, or northern, end of the Hellenistic and Roman temples lies beneath a Moslem cemetery, outside the excavated area; and it is difficult to reconcile the notion of a unified Greek facade with the apparently non-Greek plan of the southern end of the temple building. Similarly, while it is clear that both the Hellenistic and the Roman temples stood within a colonnaded courtyard, there is no evidence to indicate whether the Hellenistic colonnades were built in Greek style, or in the ‘Egyptian’ manner increasingly adopted by Ptolemaic architects.129 Handler rejected the conclusion of the excavators of the Sarapeion that the Ptolemaic temple was destroyed in the disturbances during Hadrian’s reign, and rebuilt under that emperor. Instead, she attributed the construction of the

23

Roman building to the time of Caracalla’s visit to Alexandria in the early third century AD. She rightly emphasized the basic uniformity of the representations of the temple on coins from the time of Trajan to that of the Antonines.130 If the coins that show Sarapis framed within a pedimented Corinthian facade refer to the Roman building, this structure was either built during (or even prior to) Trajan’s reign, or else, if rebuilt by Hadrian, was rebuilt exactly on the lines of its Hellenistic predecessor. The latter hypothesis, however, is ruled out by the differences between the Hellenistic and Roman remains extant at the southern end of the building. It must therefore be assumed that the rebuilding was either preHadrianic or post-Antonine (whether Severan or of some other date). In the former case, the representations on coins show the Roman building, and are thus irrelevant to our present discussion; in the latter, they would derive from the Ptolemaic building of the mid-third century BC, as Handler argues. Yet we should not too readily dismiss the first of the above hypotheses. On the basis of the evidence, it is at least possible that the reconstruction of the temple was carried out over a long period during the second century AD, from Trajan to Marcus Aurelius, and that the absence of post-Antonine coin references is due to the fact that no significant work was undertaken thereafter. Whatever the reasons for the long delay in completion, it should be remembered that the construction of the great temple complex at Baalbek extended over an even longer period.131 If the above suggestion is valid, it is likely that the interior shrine was completed first and the colonnades of the great court last; the coins would not unnaturally concentrate on the inner shrine and statue, and may in fact tell us only that the statue of Sarapis was housed in a Corinthian naiskos, or baldachin. Thus even if the structure shown on the coins was Ptolemaic, as Handler maintains, it might still be the inner shrine, not the outer facade of the temple, the overall lines of which, if the remains are any guide, could have been as much Egyptian as Greek. In the Hellenistic period, the naiskos at Didyma provides a good example of such a building within a building; and it is possible that there was something similar in the interior of the

24

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

later Artemision at Ephesos.132 In Roman times, there are numerous Syrian examples of a raised shrine, baldachin, or adyton at the back of the cella, with a columnar facade and roof providing a distinct and separate housing for the cultfigure.133 There is no reason to believe that something similar could not have existed at Alexandria, in either Hellenistic or Roman times. The little Doric building at Cape Zephyrion near Alexandria was still well preserved in the 1860s, but since then has completely disappeared. In form it was a tetrastyle peripteros of purely Greek style (fig. 54),134 and may have been typical of the temples of many Greek divinities in the Greek communities of Hellenistic Egypt. Whatever the function of the building,135 its Doric columns were perhaps more typical of later than of earlier Hellenistic Doric. The lower parts of the shafts were plain, though the shafts are said to have had entasis; the slender proportions (ca. 7–7.1 l.d.) are what we should expect in later Hellenistic times. Even the short wide plan and small scale are fairly typical of later Doric designs.136 In fact, there is little indication here that Ptolemaic designers were breaking new ground in their treatment of Greek temple plans, or even, if we except the use of cordiform piers at the corners of the peristyle, of the overall details of the Doric order. The corner members found at Cape Zephyrion, and also, in modified form, in the peripteros near Kourno in Lakonia,137 may in fact date from the late second or first century BC; since in some respects the Kourno temples are reminiscent of Italic work, they may reflect Roman influence rather than a decaying Ptolemaic style. The temple and precinct at Hermopolis Magna, in Upper Egypt, are identified and dated by an inscription on the Doric architrave of the temple, recording that temple, temenos, statues, and stoa were dedicated by the cavalry units of the Hermopolite nome to ‘King Ptolemy, son of Ptolemy and Arsinoe, and to his sister and wife Berenike,’138 that is, to Ptolemy III, the builder of the new Sarapeion at Alexandria. The temple must have been among the most purely Greek monuments of Hellenistic Egyptian architecture outside Alexandria; unfortunately, only random fragments survive, reused in the construction

of an early Christian church. Of these members the best known are the magnificent Ptolemaic Corinthian capitals that perhaps belonged to a stoa (fig. 96); much of the five-colour scheme of surface painting is still preserved.139 Moreover, the sanctuary as a whole had other features that place it among the important examples of Hellenistic temple complexes.140 The temple itself was in the Doric order; its slender columns, like those at Cape Zephyrion, and as often in mid- to lateHellenistic work, were fluted only in the upper part of the shaft. The building stood within its own precinct, apparently entered (from one of the short ends?) through an (Ionic?) propylon; there may have been stoas on three, and perhaps on all four, sides of the precinct. The position of the Corinthian columns is uncertain; the possible use of all three orders in a single complex, however, recalls other later Hellenistic schemes, such as that of the Xanthian Letoon, or the councilhouse at Miletos. It is unlikely that this kind of temple complex was first created specifically for a site in Upper Egypt, independently of developments in Alexandria – the more so if the project was conceived and carried out exclusively by a small military unit. Presumably Ptolemaic temple precincts in Alexandria, such as the Sarapeion, served as models; whatever the overall style and design of the Sarapeion and its surrounding colonnades, the temples of some of the more purely Greek divinities were doubtless also set in colonnaded enclosures similar to that of Hermopolis Magna. Thus even if none of these colonnaded precincts predated Ptolemy III, enclosed temple precincts embellished with one or more stoas may have been well established in Ptolemaic architecture by the third quarter of the third century. This Ptolemaic tradition may have been a significant factor in setting the pattern of development for Hellenistic colonnaded precincts elsewhere, for instance, in the Aegean world and Asia Minor, and also at Rome. Moreover, Ptolemaic sanctuaries serving the cult of the sovereign rulers perhaps provided at least part of the inspiration for temples of the emperor cult in Roman Imperial times. Thus the sanctuary at Hermopolis, and others like it elsewhere in Egypt, may have an importance that goes beyond

Temples and Sanctuaries their influence in the history of Hellenistic architectural design. Although the general location of the Museum complex and the great Library of Alexandria is known, we have little precise information about the form of either the shrine of the Muses or the associated buildings, nor in this case are there any known physical remains. Nevertheless, it is clear that the Library was an entirely new type of building, in some sense probably serving as a model for all later Greek and Roman libraries; and the Museum buildings, while doubtless related to earlier and contemporary structures, may also have used familiar forms in new contexts and for new purposes. The type of structure used in the ‘mother library’ attached to the Museum was presumably copied in the ‘daughter library’ installed in the Sarapeion precinct,141 and this latter Alexandrian example may have suggested the association of the Pergamene Library with the precinct of Athena Polias, as well as the inclusion of libraries in the precinct of Apollo Palatinus built by Augustus at Rome.142 Moreover, the general architectural form of the Pergamene Library, including the basic arrangements for storage and retrieval of the rolls and the provision of a vapour barrier to protect them from damp, may also have been copied from the Alexandrian prototype. Even the Celsus Library at Ephesos, built in the second century AD, merely added new monumental or decorative elements to the facade and interior of the building, without substantially changing the basic design.143 Both Ptolemaic colonnaded precincts, and Seleukid temples set in large walled courts, must have been factors influencing the popularity of such complexes in Republican Rome during the second and first centuries BC.144 Yet many Syrian temple courts, even of Roman date, apparently lacked surrounding colonnades; thus the colonnaded courtyards of the sanctuary of Jupiter at Baalbek may have been derived from non-Syrian sources, possibly from Rome itself, where temple courts were usually surrounded by porticoes. As noted above, the Roman examples may in turn have been inspired by Ptolemaic models such as the Alexandrian Sarapeion, the fame of which spread all over the Hellenistic world. The Ptole-

25

maic designs were probably based in large measure on the colonnaded courts of Pharaonic complexes, that is, on models more readily available to Ptolemaic architects than to their contemporaries outside Egypt. In the Aegean world, the temple court with colonnades on at least three sides occurs on a small scale as early as ca. 300, in the sanctuary of Athena Lindia on Rhodes (figs. 29, 76); and the same idea, although not directly associated with the temple, is found both in the precinct of Artemis at Brauron, over a century earlier, and, later, in the lower terrace of the Asklepieion on Kos (figs. 82, 407). The Lindos and Kos examples both seem to predate the construction, or at least the completion, of the Sarapeion at Alexandria; yet they too (especially in the case of the Asklepieion) seem to have drawn part of their inspiration from older Egyptian models, such as the Hatshepsut complex at Deir el-Bahri.145 In the Aegean and Asia Minor examples of temple courts with stoas are likely to have been derived from earlier Hellenistic models in the same regions, although we cannot discount the possibility of influence from Egypt. In any event, both at Kos and in the Alexandrian Sarapeion the major Egyptian contribution was perhaps Pharaonic rather than Ptolemaic. In the field of religious architecture, the Seleukids were at least as active as the Ptolemies or the Attalids. Indeed, in the cities of central and western Asia Minor and of Greece, their record is impressive both in the number and in the scale of the undertakings, even though many projects were never completed. While it may have been Lysimachos who, ca. 300, Hellenized the Great Mother of Sardis into Artemis, the Seleukids must have sponsored much of the work on her new temple during the first half of the third century; 146 during this same period they encouraged the work on the new Didymaion; they may have promoted the commencement of the new Doric temple at Klaros (figs. 21–2);147 they built the early Hellenistic stoa and the second-century Corinthian temple of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ (figs. 97–9),148 as well as the temple of Zeus Bottios in the agora at Antioch; 149 Antiochos IV started the great Corinthian temple of Zeus at Athens (figs. 100–3) and a temple of ‘Jupiter Capitolinus’ at Antioch itself, and may also have commissioned

26

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

a large new Doric temple of Zeus at Lebadeia; and the great temple of Jupiter at Baalbek evidently had a Seleukid predecessor, probably another project of the same Antiochos.150 Moreover, in their non-Greek domains, the Seleukids were responsible for the introduction of Hellenistic Greek forms in Iran, and so ultimately for the appearance of such forms in the temples at Konkobar (Kangavar) and Khurra.151 Even the Greek architectural forms of the temple at Surkh Kotal in Afghanistan are part of the Seleukid legacy in the eastern satrapies of Alexander’s empire.152 This legacy is of course even clearer in the design and decoration of Syrian and Nabataean temples and tombs of late Hellenistic and Roman times.153 In the matter of new settings for temples, Seleukos Nikator’s temple of Zeus Bottios in the agora of Antioch may be the earliest clearly attested Hellenistic example of a temple in such a location,154 and thus a direct ancestor of such monuments as the temple of Zeus Sosipolis in the agora at Magnesia on the Maiander. Moreover, while colonnaded precincts, whether or not absolutely rectangular, are found in later Hellenistic times on both a small and a very large scale,155 the large, high-walled court, with a temple of essentially Greek form isolated within it, was perhaps a synthesis of earlier non-Greek (e.g., Egyptian) and Greek forms, first introduced by the Ptolemies in Egypt and by the Seleukids in Syria, Mesopotamia, and Iran. In that event, the design of the sanctuary at Konkobar, though probably a work of Parthian date, may be descended from some ‘collateral ancestor’ of the walled courts of Syrian sanctuaries of Roman Imperial times. In any case, the Seleukids clearly developed native versions of Greek temple designs to serve the indigenous cults of the various areas of their empire. The extent to which the plan and details remained Greek naturally varied a good deal, according to the varying understanding and acceptance by native peoples of the rationale of Greek designs. Nevertheless, it is a striking testimony to the success of the Seleukids’ Hellenization of their realms that the Greek origins of the Corinthian-Doric temple at Konkobar and of the Ionic temple, perhaps of Dionysos, at Khurra, should be so readily recognizable.

If the Hellenizing ancestors of these buildings predate the rise and expansion of the Parthian monarchy, the Greek influences fostered by the Seleukids took root very quickly; on the other hand, if the temples were erected during the era of Parthian domination, the Hellenistic roots were clearly very durable.156 In the heartland of Syria the Hellenization of native religious architecture was even more thoroughgoing. Thus by Roman times, that is, the epoch from which virtually all examples of Hellenized temple architecture in ancient Syria date, true ‘GraecoSyrian’ plans have been created; many examples are known, at Baalbek and elsewhere.157 The new temple of Zeus (‘Jupiter Capitolinus’) at Antioch, already mentioned above, was begun by Antiochus IV but finished only under Tiberius; it may have been a further example of Seleukid preference for the Corinthian order, as seen in the Olympieion at Athens, another work of Antiochus IV. While certainly not inconsistent with the general politico-religious policies of that monarch, the Antiochene temple, if it was indeed dedicated to Zeus with the title ‘Kapetolios,’ or ‘Kapetolinos,’ was doubtless a further direct consequence of Antiochos’s sojourn at Rome.158 It may have been at Rome, too, that he first made the acquaintance of the architect Cossutius, whom he later encouraged to come to Syria as a court architect.159 In any event, it was presumably Cossutius who created for the Athenian Olympieion the type of Corinthian capital that subsequently provided the model for ‘normal Corinthian’ in late Republican and Imperial Roman work. The influence of the Athenian capitals was due mainly to Sulla’s decision to send some of the capitals, or possibly complete columns, to Rome,160 where they must have been studied with great interest by Roman architects. Since Cossutius may have worked for Antiochus IV at Antioch as well as at Athens, he could even have designed the Antiochene temple of ‘Jupiter Capitolinus’ in Corinthian style, before being sent to Athens to work on the Olympieion. This new Athenian building was certainly one of the earliest major Greek temples to be built in the Corinthian order (figs. 100–3); 161 it is also an interesting illustration of the problems encoun-

Temples and Sanctuaries tered in adapting a later building to foundations laid for an earlier structure of quite different style. Despite the influence of its Corinthian capitals in the later history of that order, the plan of the Hellenistic building, as so often in fourthcentury and Hellenistic work, was largely determined by that of a predecessor, in this case the late Archaic Doric dipteros commenced under the Peisistratid tyrants, and left unfinished after their expulsion. The plan and scale of the Peisistratid dipteros, which replaced an earlier and smaller building, were inspired by the Eastern Ionic giants of the sixth century at Samos and Ephesos; 162 but the preserved Peisistratid drums, with a base diameter of 2.42 m (i.e., much thicker than the columns of the Samian and Ephesian buildings), suggest a Doric structure; and Dinsmoor noted that the treatment of the bottom of the base drums was incompatible with Ionic columns resting on bases. A detailed discussion of the design of the Doric building lies outside the scope of the present work. For the Hellenistic building, which had an outer peristyle of 8 × 20 columns, Dinsmoor gives spans of 5.494 m on the fronts, and 5.54 m, narrowing to 5.525 m at the angles, on the flanks; Penrose’s figures were virtually identical. These spans fit comfortably on a stylobate measuring 41.11 × 107.89 m, since the Corinthian columns, with a lower diameter of 1.92 m increasing to 1.94 m at the corners, had baseplinths shown by Penrose as 2.62 m square (ca. 1.35 l.d. rather than the 1.5 l.d. recommended by Vitruvius).163 Welter shows uniform spans on the flanks, of the same width as the contracted corner spans of the fronts (ca. 5.4–5.45 m), with normal front spans of ca. 5.65 m. Since this arrangement would require wider fronts and shorter flanks than those of the existing stylobate, the figures of Penrose and Dinsmoor should be accepted. Of course it is unusual to find shorter spans on the fronts than those on the flanks; but in the case of the Hellenistic Olympieion this situation was an almost inevitable result of the change in order from Doric to Corinthian on the same underpinnings. The Archaic octastyle facades having yielded uniform spans of 5.494 m for the Hellenistic building, Cossutius had a difficult choice to make for the flanks of the temple. Twenty-one

27

columns, with uniform axial spans of 5.264 m, would have provided inter-plinth intervals of only 2.64 m, that is, hardly more than the width of the plinths themselves; the intervals between the column-shafts would have been 3.344 m, or 1.74 l.d. These figures fall halfway between Vitruvius’s pycnostyle and systyle schemes, which he himself criticized on the grounds that the intervals were too narrow. Even the reduction of the number of flank columns from twenty-one to twenty, while yielding the wider spans noted above, still had intercolumnar intervals narrower than those of Vitruvius’s systyle arrangement; but the flank spans, although now slightly wider than those of the facade (by less than 1%), would have appeared virtually identical with the latter, as one would expect in an Ionic or Corinthian building. It is interesting to note that in the Eastern Ionic tradition the Athena temple at Priene, the Didymaion, and the Smintheion at Chryse all have spans narrower than those of the Vitruvian systyle. In the overall dimensions of the stylobate, the rather long and narrow proportions of the Archaic Olympieion were necessarily retained in the Hellenistic temple; thus the length of the stylobate remained 2.624 times the width. These narrow proportions are perhaps the feature that distinguishes the Olympieion most sharply from the Ionic giants of Asia Minor, where greater width was achieved either by the use of graded spans (Samos, Ephesos, Sardis), or else by making the facades decastyle (Didyma, Hellenistic temple). Graded spans at the front of the building were typical of all the earlier Eastern Ionic giants, from the Rhoikos temple on Samos onward, and produced length : width proportions in the stylobate from 2 : 1 (Rhoikos temple) or slightly less (Polykrates temple) to 2.17 : 1 at Ephesos; the Hellenistic temple at Sardis, had it been completed, would have had proportions almost identical with those of the Artemision at Ephesos. At Didyma, the decastyle facades, with uniform spans, resulted in a ratio of 2.14 : 1. In the Peisistratid Doric Olympieion, the remains of which determined the plan of its Hellenistic successor, graded spans were ruled out by the requirements of the Doric frieze. The temple therefore followed the pattern of many other Archaic

28

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

Doric buildings on the Greek mainland, at least as far as the proportions of the stylobate were concerned. For example, the length of the Alkmaionid temple at Delphi was 2.684 times the width; in a proposed late Archaic temple at Bassai, the platform of which was then partly reused in the Iktinos temple, the figure was evidently 2.642, in the Older Parthenon 2.845, in the temple of Apollo at Corinth 2.505, and at Tegea, another example of the retention of Archaic proportions, 2.48. The interior arrangements planned by Cossutius for the new Olympieion at Athens are conjectural. Published plans deal with the cella of Hadrianic times, and even here are somewhat hypothetical; the scanty available data suggest that the plan of the interior must have been a mixture of Archaic West Greek and Eastern Ionic rather than mainland Doric models.164 The existence of a hypaethral cella, mentioned by Vitruvius,165 seems to be confirmed by the lack of remains for suitably located interior columns, and also by the hypaethral interiors at Ephesos and Didyma. The Corinthian columns of the later temple, whether of Hellenistic or of Roman date, have unusually heavy proportions, with a height of only ca. 8.75–8.8 lower diameters.166 These proportions are sometimes attributed to the influence of Classical Athenian work; but this attribution seems rather implausible, since the columns of the Nike and Ilissos temples at Athens were somewhat heavier (7.82 and 8.25 1.d.), those of the Erechtheion a good deal lighter (North Porch 9.35 1.d., East Porch 9.52 l.d.). It seems much more likely that Cossutius used a system of proportions current in Hellenistic Syria. This Syrian system was probably based on Eastern Ionic models of the middle and second half of the fourth century, the period of the ‘Ionic Renaissance’; thus the columns of the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos, and perhaps also of the temple of Athena at Priene, seem to have measured ca. 8.8–8.85 l.d. in height.167 In all likelihood, the only ‘earlier Athenian’ element in the Hellenistic Olympieion was the re-use of the existing Peisistratid foundations. The new Corinthian temple of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ (figs. 97–9), probably also built by Anti-

ochos IV, represents a very different, and more contemporary, approach to temple design. The relatively modest dimensions of the peristyle of 6 × 12 columns (ca. 22 × 40 m), and the plan of the interior, are all typical of fourth-century and Hellenistic work, and clearly belong to the same later Greek tradition as the temples at Messa and Chryse.168 Yet individual stylistic details are also characteristic of the eclecticism of later Hellenistic work. Thus the architect was evidently familiar with the decorative aspects of Alexandrian Corinthian, although there is no reason to believe that he was himself an Alexandrian. For the column-shafts of the peristyle, he adopted the combination of facets and flutes that had originally been developed for the Doric columns of stoas. This combination is uncommon in major temples of the Hellenistic period; the columns at Uzuncaburc¸ seem to be the earliest known example in a Corinthian temple. The Corinthian capitals are quite unlike those of the Athenian Olympieion, in which a single fluted cauliculus springs from the leaf-girdle on each side of each of the four faces, with the channels of both volutes and helices sprouting from the leaf-ring at the end of each cauliculus (figs. 102–3). At Uzuncaburc¸ (fig. 99), two separate cauliculi emerge from the leaves on each side of each face; the inward-turning cauliculi then cross over beneath the spirals of the helices, so that the right-hand helix springs from the end of the left-hand cauliculus and vice versa. Moreover, on each face the spaces between the volutes and helices are filled with ornamental carving. Altogether, these capitals are much more richly decorated than those of the Athenian temple; but they achieve this effect by abandoning the structural clarity and logic of the original Greek design in favour of a proliferation of surface ornament. In this respect they are fairly typical of the development of much later Hellenistic work, and perhaps particularly typical of the development of Greek architectural forms and ornament in the Seleukid domains (southeastern Asia Minor, Syria, and the regions to the south and east), where the logic of Greek designs, and the three-dimensional qualities of Greek carving, were often unappreciated or misunderstood. In the more conservative and strongly classicizing

Temples and Sanctuaries atmosphere of Augustan Rome, where architects such as Vitruvius normally kept closer to the spirit of their Greek originals, more orthodox forms, such as those of the Olympieion, were preferred. Yet it remains true that Hellenistic temple designs, like other branches of Hellenistic architecture, generally give more emphasis to richness and variety of surface ornament, for its own sake, than is ever found in Classical work. The effect of this development on the columnar orders is discussed in another chapter; here it is sufficient to note two further manifestations of an increased interest in ornamental detail. As the traditional distinctions between the orders were broken down, the different orders began to penetrate each other’s ‘zones.’ Macedonian architects had long drawn much of their inspiration from Asia Minor; thus in Hellenistic times Ionic columns were used both in the courtyards of domestic buildings and on the facades of monumental tombs. Influences radiating from Macedonia perhaps explain the use of the Ionic order in many of the Hellenistic buildings at Dodona, as well as in Epirote domestic architecture.169 Ionic also appears, perhaps in the mid-third century, in the pseudoperipteros at Epidauros, in place of the Doric that earlier architects had preferred for exteriors; 170 in the later third and second centuries, the propylon of ‘Council House Lane’ and the facade of the Hellenistic Metroon, in the agora at Athens, were both Ionic (figs. 124, 132).171 By way of compensation, Doric was not only the normal order for civic stoas in Asia Minor, but was increasingly used in temples as well; a number of examples have already been mentioned above. At Kos, the late Hellenistic Doric temple on the upper terrace quite overshadowed the little Ionic structure below (figs. 74, 82). Much of the new popularity of Doric was certainly due to the Pergamene kings, who may have encouraged its use as another means of linking themselves with the past architectural and historical glories of Old Greece. Yet the new Doric temples at Troy probably, and the temple at Klaros (fig. 21) certainly, predate Pergamene dominance in the surrounding region by a considerable margin; this situation is all the more remarkable in view of the

29

number of Ionic temples recently completed or under construction in western Asia Minor (Ephesos, Sardis, Priene, Didyma). We have therefore suggested above that the new building at Klaros was probably sponsored by the Seleukids.172 In contrast to the increasing interpenetration of Ionic and Doric in western Asia Minor, the Aegean, and Old Greece, Corinthian remained relatively rare throughout most of these regions before the late Hellenistic age, especially for the exteriors of temples (Olympieion at Athens, Messene173 – the newly interpreted round temple at Knidos seems to have been a virtually unique pre-Roman example in western Asia Minor).174 Several different factors were at work here. In Old Greece the force of tradition was probably the most important; in western Asia Minor the steadily growing influence of the Pergamene school meant that Doric or Ionic, or possibly derivatives of Pergamene leaf-capitals, were likely to be preferred to Corinthian. In the kingdoms of Egypt and Syria, and in the non-Greek regions of Italy, neither of the above factors operated. Thus Corinthian was evidently widely employed in Alexandria, and probably also in Syria; it may have been not uncommon in temple designs (e.g., Uzuncaburc¸ in Seleukid territory, and perhaps also ‘Jupiter’ at Antioch and the Sarapeion at Alexandria).175 That is not to say that there was any particular prejudice against Doric or Ionic. Doric was popular in the tomb-architecture of Alexandria, and was used for the temple at Hermopolis Magna; 176 and local versions of both Doric and Ionic, with a considerable admixture of native elements, are found in the Syria-Palestine region well down into Roman times. Yet it seems clear that much of the Hellenistic development of Corinthian occurred in Alexandria and in Syria; to judge from the scarcity of examples in western Asia Minor and Old Greece, the marked Italic taste for Corinthian, which was already becoming dominant in Italic architecture by the later second century BC, must have come into the Western tradition mainly from the Eastern Hellenistic kingdoms rather than from, or by way of, Old Greece. As in many other instances, the Greek cities of South Italy and Sicily probably played an

30

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

important role in the transmission of Corinthian from the eastern Mediterranean to central Italy; 177 this aspect of the architecture of Sicily and Magna Graecia needs to be further explored. Corinthian, or Corinthianizing, forms appear in the remains of Tarentine tomb monuments displayed in the Taranto Museum, probably from the early fourth century onward; and Corinthian was popular in the Naples-Pompeii area, a frequent meeting ground of Greek and Italic traditions. These facts support the thesis that the spread of Corinthian in Italy was at least partly due to its popularity with Western Greek architects, who found it more to their taste than did their cousins in Old Greece and Asia Minor. Once adopted by Italic designers, Corinthian was likely to lose its ‘purity’ of form; for Central Italy in particular had a long history of eclectic borrowing from various traditions (cf. the history of Etruscan architecture, sculpture, and painting).178 Hence the startling mixture of Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian forms, along with elements of uncertain origin, in the ‘CorinthianDoric,’ or Italic, temple in the forum at Paestum (fig. 52). From the second quarter of the second century to the time of Sulla, Corinthian was common in Roman contexts, for instance, as noted above, in the Porticus Corinthia of Cn. Octavius and the temples at Palestrina and Tivoli, and perhaps also in the temple of Jupiter Stator in the Campus Martius.179 In temple architecture, however, as in many other areas, the Romans borrowed only decorative details from the Greek tradition; for by this time the various Italic, or Tuscan, temple plans had become standard in Roman work, and continued so throughout the Imperial age, with a few significant exceptions. The popularity of Corinthian and Pergamene leaf-capitals, and of ‘mixed’ orders, is one important aspect of the Hellenistic interest in ornament for its own sake in all parts of a building. In temple designs this interest also led to a continuing emphasis on the design and decoration of the interior of the structure, that is, the naos proper. At the same time, the vestibule (pronaos) was more richly decorated; in the second-century temple of Artemis at Magnesia, the rich ornament was extended to the outer faces of the lateral walls, and even to the back porch, or opisthodomos.

The modest dimensions of the average Hellenistic naos also encouraged closer attention to proportions and decoration. Whether the exterior of the temple was prostyle or in antis, a simple peripteros, or pseudodipteral or dipteral, Hellenistic designers tried to make the inner room match the preceding sections of the building in spaciousness, harmony of proportions, and richness of ornament. As temples became smaller overall, the naos occupied a larger and larger proportion of the platform; the columns of the prostyle porch might be continued as halfcolumns along the sides and rear, as in the Ionic pseudodipteros at Epidauros (figs. 104–5); and the interior wall surfaces were likely to carry rich mouldings on base and crown, as well being enlivened with half-columns or columns set against the wall. In short, what the naos lost in overall scale, it increasingly regained in the richness and variety of its ornament. This new approach to interior design is already found in the fourth century; but from the end of that century onward it became much more common. In regions further removed from the original Aegean heartland, Greek decorative details and the Greek approach to the ordering of interior spaces were frequently more in evidence than direct copying of Greek plans. Indeed, the further one goes from the confines of the Aegean world, and the smaller the Greek minority in relation to surrounding native peoples, the more superficial the Greek aspects of temples and other buildings become. One striking illustration of this state of affairs is afforded by the use of an almost purely Hellenistic Corinthian order in the ‘palace complex’ at Ai-Khanoum in Afghanistan (fig. 426), where the overall plan and many of the details owe virtually nothing to Greek models.180 The same may be said of the use of Greek forms in Hellenistic Egypt, where Greek traditions in architecture and sculpture apparently made no real impression outside of Alexandria and a few other administrative or military centres.181 In places with a purely native population, the Hellenistic style was swamped by more indigenous traits, and made little lasting contribution to the local scene. In Syria-Palestine, by contrast, while the Hellenistic architectural tradition can hardly be said

Temples and Sanctuaries to have replaced local styles, Greek forms, and even Greek plans, did penetrate more deeply, though often appearing in very un-Greek combinations. This Hellenistic tradition in Syria survived through Roman Imperial times, and produced such diverse effects as the temples at Qasr Nimrud (fig. 421 – a Doric peripteros with a plain frieze-band and non-Greek cornice) and at Bziza (fairly regular Ionic in details, but with a plan that is Syrian in its interior arrangement).182 It seems likely that the popularity of Corinthian in Hellenistic Syria was responsible for the large number of examples of Corinthian temples of Roman Imperial date. The Syrian penchant for simply blocking out the acanthus leaves, without adding all the details found in the Greek prototype, may also have originated in Hellenistic times, perhaps because Greek three-dimensional carving was never fully understood in the Near Eastern world. Before concluding this survey of Hellenistic temple architecture, we must consider briefly the origins and development of the round temple. It has long been held that the earliest extant round temples all occur in Roman contexts. The round temple in the Largo Argentina at Rome and the structures at Tivoli (figs. 380, 93–4) and Praeneste, dating from the middle and late Republic, are familiar examples; and the circular plan had been associated with the temple of Vesta in the Roman Forum from very early times, although the embellishment of the exterior with a columnar treatment of Hellenistic type was a late development.183 Yet the type of round building with exterior colonnade found in these Roman examples obviously originated in the Greek world. A circular platform carrying a ring of columns is already found in the Old Tholos at Delphi; this building may have been a monopteros, that is, without an inner room or cella. Unfortunately we are quite ignorant of the function, and even of the precise location, of the structure, of which only disiecta membra have survived. A much larger round building, but without any exterior colonnade, was the Tholos in the Athenian agora (fig. 124, lower left centre; fig. 132, extreme left); we learn from the Etymologicum Magnum that the assembly hall, or Skias, which Pausanias mentions at one of the

31

exits from the agora at Sparta, was circular in plan; and Pausanias saw nearby another round building, evidently of considerable size, in which there were statues of Zeus and Aphrodite. The construction of this last building was attributed by the Spartans to a very early period.184 From the fourth century there are the well-preserved Tholoi at Delphi and Epidauros; again, however, we have no clear idea of the function of these buildings, and certainly no definite evidence that any of them were temples.185 It has been suggested that the popularity of circular temple plans in later times was perhaps due to the association of this type of building with a particularly famous fourth-century or early Hellenistic example, and that the model was the temple of Aphrodite at Knidos, in which the famous statue of the goddess by Praxiteles was housed.186 References to the Knidian Aphrodite in ancient literature indicate that the plan of the cult-building was rather unusual; although it is nowhere described as round, the texts could be interpreted as referring to a temple of tholos type, perhaps even a monopteros.187 Unfortunately, the ancient passages bearing on the plan of the temple are much later than the fourth century. Nevertheless, when the American excavators of Knidos uncovered ruins of a round temple assigned by them to Roman times (figs. 106–7), together with a fragmentary inscription with the letters PRAJ, Iris Love argued that this building and the surrounding precinct must represent the final form of the sanctuary housing the Aphrodite of Praxiteles, that the temple, in the Doric order, was the successor of an earlier round Doric temple on the same site, and that the Knidian temple was the model for the tholos temple of Aphrodite in Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli.188 The association of the sanctuary with Aphrodite, however, was not capable of definite proof; and a re-examination of the site in 1988–92, by H. Bankel, has led to new conclusions regarding the identification, date, and order of the temple.189 Bankel notes that the podium profiles of the altar east of the round temple are virtually identical with those of the altar of Apollo Karneios, on the next terrace to the south; associated with this latter altar are two dedications to Apollo bearing the signatures of two

32

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

artists known to have lived ca. 200–150. Moreover, the masonry technique of the altar in the precinct of the round temple fits comfortably into the second century.190 The precinct with the round temple is now seen as a sanctuary of Athena, and the ‘PRAJ . . .’ inscription has been reinterpreted by W. Blumel as a dedica¨ tion by PRAJ[. . .]J[. .]O[. . .]KAIGUNH[. . .]AA[. . .] ||KLE[. . .]||AYA[NAI (‘Prax[. . .]x[. .]o[. . .] and his wife [. . .]a A[. . .] || on behalf of their [daughter] Kle[. . .]||to Athana’).191 Finally, Bankel points out that the mortarwork under the cella floor, which suggested to Love a Roman date for the round temple, is not in fact Roman opus caementicium, but rather a Hellenistic technique (found also in the two altars), in which an upper footing layer of rubble in mortar is supported on a lower layer of spolia and chips mixed with a little lime mortar; this technique does not result in the rock-hard quality of Roman work.192 Thus it no longer seems possible to assume, as Love did, that the original temple of Aphrodite Euploia at Knidos was a circular building, and the probable ancestor of all later tholoi of Aphrodite. On the other hand, Bankel’s investigations have given us, in place of a hypothetical Greek round temple of the fourth century, an actual Greek round temple of the first half of the second century, and one, moreover, built in the Corinthian order.193 This Corinthian round temple is at least as early as the round Temple B in the Largo Argentina at Rome, and lends greater credibility to the existence, a generation or two earlier, of a tholos of Aphrodite194 on the upper deck of the river-barge of Ptolemy Philopator, near the king’s sleeping quarters. Before Bankel’s reassessment of the round temple at Knidos, the earliest extant round temple in the eastern Mediterranean may have been the example in the Delphinion at Miletos, perhaps a very late Hellenistic work of the first century BC.195 The date of this structure, however, is uncertain; in any case, the building postdates the commencement of Roman domination by half to three-quarters of a century; and Roman influence is likely at any time after the establishment of the Roman province of Asia in the years following 133 BC. A similar un-

certainty exists with respect to the origin of the round forms in the Asklepieion at Pergamon; the existing round buildings are certainly Roman, in both date and technique, and no Hellenistic remains have been found to show whether the circular plan goes back to preRoman times. Similarly, the temple of Roma and Augustus on the Athenian Acropolis, despite its borrowing of decorative forms from the Erechtheion, is in other respects a Roman rather than a Greek building.196 Thus the temple at Knidos provides a welcome confirmation of the ancient literary sources, and of the accuracy of representations in Campanian wall paintings, which show that the tholos type of structure was used in a variety of Hellenistic contexts, some of which were clearly religious or quasi-religious. Architecturally, these Hellenistic tholoi were descendants of the tholoi at Delphi and Epidauros, which, whatever their precise functions, must have had some religious associations, to judge from their location close to important temples.197 The wall paintings from Campania, in which tholoi are represented, are considerably later in date than the round temple at Knidos; in any event, it is not clear whether these paintings represent local Campanian, that is, Italic, buildings (or at least an Italic artistic convention), or whether they are based on a style of architecture, and of architectural representation in painting, that originated in Alexandria, as many scholars have believed. If an Alexandrian origin for such architectural representations could be proven, there would be further evidence for the existence of round buildings in religious contexts in Ptolemaic Egypt. Unfortunately, while at least some of the Italic painted tholoi certainly seem to be temples or shrines, examples of painted tholoi in Alexandria itself lack a clear context.198 Yet the tholos with exterior colonnade was certainly a familiar architectural form in the Eastern Kingdoms of the Hellenistic world, appearing both in the late first-century ‘Tomb of Absalom’ at Jerusalem (fig. 423), and also in the elaborate rock-cut facades of the Khazne and Deir tombs at Petra.199 The Petra tombs, though dated by some scholars to the late Hellenistic period, were probably both cut during the first half or so of the first

Temples and Sanctuaries century AD. Nevertheless, the Jerusalem and Petra monuments, which are clearly Hellenistic in style, show that the tholos form must have been common in quasi-religious structures in the eastern Mediterranean world during the last centuries before Christ; and such structures were doubtless equally popular in the field of temple design.

33

In any case, the popularity of circular buildings with exterior colonnades, during the fourth century and the Hellenistic period, no doubt resulted from the desire of later Greek architects to add new decorative interest and variety to their work by applying the columnar orders to new types of buildings and in new combinations.

2 Entranceways

In dealing with the entrance to the sacred temenos as part of the overall design of a sanctuary, the preceding chapter touched upon only one aspect of the subject of entranceways. For example, the North Propylaia at Epidauros were too far outside the sacred enclosure of Asklepios for temple and entrance to form a single integrated design (fig. 108). Moreover, buildings of ‘propylon’ form are often found in association with structures other than temples; and there were, in any case, other means of emphasizing the entrance without resorting to a conventional propylon. The present chapter therefore deals with entranceways to agora, gymnasium, council-house, or heroon, as well as with structures associated with temple or temenos. The form of particular entranceways obviously had to be closely related to their function. Throughout the Hellenistic period city gates, no matter how richly decorated, were above all part of a system of fortifications designed to keep the enemy from entering the built-up area of the city; open colonnades were thus inappropriate, since they would have made it too easy to force the entrance. Yet already by the third quarter of the fourth century Aristotle was suggesting that the design of city walls should contribute to the overall visual impression of the city.1 The arched openings of some early Hellenistic gates, as at Priene and Corinth,2 are doubtless in part explicable in terms of visual effect; a similar effect, using corbelling, occurs in one of the gates of Assos (fig. 109), and was used even

more impressively in the main gate of that city, which was still largely intact in 1845 (fig. 110).3 In all these cases, the problem of taking the screenwall (and sometimes the patrol-walk or parodos) across the gate-passage could have been solved by the use of a horizontal lintel supported by a central pier, though at the cost of some increase in the overall width of the passage.4 A truly monumental example of a military gateway is provided by the tripylon, probably of the late fourth or early third century, that formed the western entrance to the Epipolai plateau of Syracuse (fig. 111); this structure was later thought to have a larger number of openings than was either safe or necessary, and two of the three gate-passages were walled shut.5 Yet even in cases where a central pier supporting a lintel was retained, as in the Kerameikos Dipylon at Athens and in the early Hellenistic remodelling of the Arkadian Gate at Messene, the width of the opening was probably increased beyond the minimum requirement in order to make the gateway more impressive. In the Arkadian Gate the total effect was further enhanced by special masonry treatment and by the use of decorative niches; and the mid-Hellenistic South Gate of Perge may have had a row of arched niches all around the circular court.6 The extensive use of decorative columns and half-columns in Hellenistic architecture might lead us to expect at least one or two Hellenistic examples of the Roman practice of embellishing gate-buildings with tiers of columns; however,

Entranceways this sort of design seems in general to have been confined to the Roman Imperial age. Perhaps Roman architects simply carried over the idea of the arch framed by half-columns and entablature from other contexts into the design of monumental gateways. At any rate, this architectural form was unknown to, or at least not accepted by, Hellenistic architects, who may also have considered architectural ornament around the actual gateway a waste of time and money, in view of the likelihood of damage by enemy siege-engines. The nearest Hellenistic parallel to Roman practice is the use of superimposed engaged orders on the inner, or city, face of the Gate of Zeus and Hera at Thasos; 7 in such a location there was little danger of damage by enemy action. The use of architectural ornament in the top storey of lofty Hellenistic towers is quite another matter. As long as enemy machines were kept at a distance by defensive artillery, the upper portions of four- or five-storeyed towers remained out of range of stone balls heavy enough to damage masonry construction. In addition, ornament applied to the top storey of such a tower would have been conspicuous from a distance, even when the lower storeys were masked by elaborate outworks, or proteichismata, such as those of the North Gate of Selinus. Consequently, examples of towers with architectural ornament are relatively common in several areas of the Hellenistic world, especially at or near gateways. The round towers of the earlier South Gate of Perge were crowned by Doric pilasters and entablature, and Doric friezes were evidently used on at least some of the towers of Sillyon and Selge; the towers of the North Gate of Selinus seem to have been treated in a manner similar to the Perge gate; at Paestum the top storey of some of the towers was decorated with pilasters of Corinthian inspiration, surmounted by Doric architrave and frieze; and some towers at Pompeii (perhaps only in the vicinity of gateways) also had a Doric entablature around the top.8 There can be little doubt that these and other Hellenistic examples provided at least part of the inspiration for Roman Imperial city gates decorated with tiers of half-columns and engaged entablatures.9 To criticize such ornament as unnecessary is to miss the point, that Hellenistic

35

and Roman architects regarded city walls and gates as elements in the overall cityscape, not simply as functional military architecture (however effective Hellenistic work might be from this point of view). Within the city, formal entranceways are firmly attested in secular as well as in religious contexts. For example, IG II2.1668, the inscription describing the great arsenal at Peiraieus, mentions in the introductory passage a propylaion on the side of the Hippodamian Agora toward the shipsheds; 10 this structure must have been built no later than ca. 340, since the inscription was carved ca. 350–340. In Roman times gateways to public complexes were often truly monumental in scale. The Propylaia at the head of the Lechaion Road at Corinth in Greece, the Market Gate at Miletos and the Agora Gate of Mazaeus and Mithridates at Ephesos in Asia Minor are familiar examples in Greek lands.11 Although entrances on this scale are unknown before the Roman period, they clearly had more modest predecessors in the fourth century and Hellenistic times; even the decorative forms of Roman examples were perhaps largely based on Hellenistic models. In Asia Minor and Syria many new cities were founded from the time of Alexander onward, and many others were remodelled along Greek lines. Sometimes even the site was changed, as at Smyrna, and apparently also at Priene.12 In the Aegean and the western Mediterranean new foundations were much less common; but for a variety of reasons many old settlements both there and in Asia Minor saw a good deal of new building during the later fifth and fourth centuries. By this time, the overall development of urban complexes was normally determined by a rectilinear (even if not rectangular) street grid. The agora (or one of the agoras, in larger cities) was often located near the centre of the builtup area, as at Priene and Magnesia on the Maiander; alternatively, if the terrain was irregular, it might be at the intersection of major thoroughfares, as at Ephesos and Assos. Certainly there would have been at least one main artery leading to the marketplace, if only for practical reasons. Whenever this street ran in a straight line for some distance before entering the agora,

36

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

there was the possibility of providing some sort of imposing and effective entrance; the propylaion of the Peiraieus agora mentioned in IG II2.1668 was doubtless inspired by such considerations. As long as the agora remained accessible to vehicular as well as pedestrian traffic, the entrance, whatever its form, had to be fairly open, allowing free passage to all users. Yet it seems clear that Hellenistic architects began to pay more attention both to the visual effects of the approaches to the agora and to the vista that greeted the visitor at the point of entry. In this sense, they may be said to have been concerned with effective entranceways, without necessarily conceiving these as distinct and separate buildings.13 Interesting, as well as varied, aspects of this approach are found at sites as different in size and topography as Morgantina in Sicily and Assos, Aigai in Aiolis, Alinda, Magnesia, Priene, and Miletos in western Asia Minor. The agora at Morgantina lay in a valley between two hills; the floor of the valley sloped downward from northwest to southeast. The main access to the agora must always have been either by the road across the upper end of the valley, or else by ascending from the south or southwest, along the line once followed by visitors to the modern excavations. For those coming from outside the immediate region of Morgantina the latter approach was perhaps the more normal; at any rate, the city planners seem to have been chiefly concerned with the view of the agora area from this direction. They rejected the option chosen by the designers of the agora at Priene (figs. 114–15), of throwing up a single large rectangular terrace capable of accommodating the open area of the agora together with its surrounding stoas. Instead, the open area was divided into upper and lower levels, separated by stepped terrace walls, or stairways, the ends of which bent around toward the southeast and southwest more or less in conformity with the natural contours of the site. Thus as one approached from below, the open areas, divided by stairways, drew one into the ‘hollow’ of the agora, which was visually defined on the north by buildings higher up the valley, on the east by a long hall, on the west by a stoa (never completed), and on the southwest at least in part

by the skene and rising tiers of seats of the theatre.14 At Assos it is difficult to say which was the main approach to the agora. The largest and most elaborate of the city gates faced inland; but it seems clear that in Hellenistic times Assos was also an important staging post on the coastal voyage around the southwestern corner of the Troad.15 Moreover, the Hellenistic city obviously faced seaward (figs. 112–13), and away from the landward exposures to the north, even though the northern slopes there were gentler and more easily adaptable to the normal grid plan of city streets. We should therefore probably regard the main visual approach to the agora as that from the south, ascending from the small harbour past the theatre to the main public square just below the cliffs of the acropolis. From this direction, the great terrace-wall and stairways to the east of the South Stoa (fig. 113),16 though nothing like a conventional propylon, nevertheless gave an imposing and effective visual emphasis to the point of entrance into the agora; and as the visitor reached the head of the stairway, he could not but have been impressed by the facades of the long stoas on the north and south sides of the open area, as well as by the smaller monuments closing the area on the east and west. An important street also led from the main landward gate around the southwestern slopes of the citadel, past the gymnasium to the western end of the agora, where it connected with the street ascending from the harbour. This approach to the agora was not especially emphasized; indeed, the narrow western end of the agora was partly closed by the back wall of a small temple. Nevertheless, the facades of the agora stoas must still have been visible for some time before one reached the western entrance; from that point, the vista was even more imposing than that from the head of the southeastern stairway. The investigators of Assos suggested that this entrance to the agora was later emphasized by the construction of an arched gateway, northwest of and behind the temple; although no date is given, the arch, if correctly identified as such, could be Hellenistic, like the example at Priene discussed below. The same kind of planning is found at Aigai. Whatever the overall outline of the agora area of

Entranceways Aigai, it was clearly determined by the natural contours of the site (figs. 116–17, 405). Probably the main access was by way of a street that ran outside and below the longer arm of the great Lshaped market building, then turned to ascend past the short arm of the L, to an opening between the end of the market building and another stoa that is presumed to have closed at least part of the uphill flank of the agora. Just outside the agora area, but conveniently situated in relation to it, was the bouleuterion, or council-house (perhaps flanking another street that approached the agora entrance from the northeast).17 In accordance with the natural contours of the land, the bouleuterion, the market building, and perhaps the uphill stoa each had a different orientation. Thus, as at Assos, the overall area of agora and bouleuterion may have formed a quadrilateral rather than a rectangle. Yet once more the main approach must have been very imposing. Even today the rear wall of the market building still towers impressively above the line of the ancient roadway (fig. 116). The visitor in ancient times, on rounding the northeastern corner of the market building, would have seen above and to his right the facade of the council-house; as he ascended further he would have noted on his left the end of the colonnaded facade of the presumed uphill stoa of the agora; and when he finally reached the entrance proper of the marketplace, he would have been greeted by the vista of stoas extending around at least three sides of the open space. There is no sign here of a propylon, any more than at Assos; yet in both cases Hellenistic designers succeeded in creating both an effective approach and a very striking vista of the whole agora as seen from the entrance. Moreover, the sites of Assos and Aigai are not only reminiscent of each other; they also recall the architectural effects of Pergamon so strongly that there seems little doubt of their Pergamene origins and inspiration.18 Priene and Alinda offer interesting contrasts with Assos and Aigai.19 All four places were small in scale; at least at Alinda, the terrain was quite as irregular as anything at Assos or Aigai; and even at Priene there is a vertical rise of almost 100 m, in a horizontal distance of less than 400 m, from the southernmost point of

37

the city circuit to the level of the sanctuary of Demeter above the theatre (figs. 114–15). Yet the agora area of Alinda, and virtually the whole street grid and built-up area at Priene, were laid out on strictly rectangular lines. Outside of the agora and its immediate vicinity, however, the designers of Alinda were forced to adopt an irregular street grid, since the site simply did not permit overall rectangular division. Even the regularity of the agora area is probably a Hellenistic modification of an earlier town plan of the fourth century BC; certainly the downhill stoa and market building, the lines of which were responsible for much of the existing regularity, cannot have been built before the later third or early second century.20 The approaches to the agora at Alinda were designed along much the same lines as those found at Assos and Aigai, despite the more regular lines of the Karian complex. From a distance and from below, the structure on the downhill side of the agora terrace, with its lofty rear wall broken by numerous doors and windows, and probably crowned by a ‘colonnade’ of freestanding piers rising above a parapet,21 must have seemed to hang above the steep hillside (figs. 118–19), in much the same manner as the south side of the agora at Assos and the great market building at Aigai. As at Aigai, visitors evidently approached along the length of the market building and stoa, then turned around the corner and ascended along one side of the terrace, again with an open colonnade overlooking the road, to the level of the agora proper. Even if there was no special treatment at this point, the open back wall of the uphill return of the market building, with the intervals closed by parapets until one reached the level of the agora, was itself a sort of decorative approach. Though much less monumental, it was related to the propylaia of the precinct of Artemis at Magnesia, which were incorporated into the stoa that flanked the eastern side of the agora (fig. 81).22 Certainly the entrance to the Alinda agora would have been more ‘welcoming’ than at Aigai, since the enclosing colonnade here had an outward as well as an inward-facing aspect. Moreover, the greater regularity of the plan of the agora as a whole, and the continuity of the stoas (probably around

38

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

three sides of the open area), would have given it a visual effect not found (and probably not sought) at Assos and Aigai, or even at Pergamon itself. At Priene, because of the overall rectangular street grid and the location of the marketplace in relation to the streets leading from the city gates, there was at least the opportunity to emphasize the points of entrance into the agora by means of architectural forms conspicuous even from a distance. Streets led from the Southeast and West Gates to the southeast and northwest corners of the agora respectively. The city planners of Priene, however, evidently thought of the agora as an area to be marked off, even if accessible, from all surrounding parts of the town. This arrangement certainly had advantages; at Priene it resulted in an agora easily reached from any quarter of the city, yet possessing a clarity in overall plan that is quite different from the haphazard groupings of buildings found, for example, in fifth-century Athens (figs. 114, 120). Nevertheless, these effects were achieved by having the agora face almost entirely inward; the walls defining it on the exterior, when not party-walls shared with adjoining complexes, were almost all blank masonry, devoid of any architectural emphasis or ornament. Thus although the visitor approaching from the Southeast Gate could see from some distance away the opening (probably arched) and the stairway leading up from the street to the southeast corner of the agora, there was no attempt to give this opening any distinct architectural form (fig. 121). It remained simply an opening, a sort of ‘back door’ to the agora, despite the fact that the steps to which it gave access were actually a direct continuation of the street outside. The same treatment is found in the southern approach, by way of the street leading up from the area of the new gymnasium and stadium. The back wall of the South Stoa may have had no windows at agora level, and probably only a simple door reached from the street by an unpretentious stairway. It is easy to explain the unassuming aspect of these southern and southeastern approaches in terms of the difference in level between the streets on the downhill side of the agora and the agora terrace itself. Yet the approach from the West Gate tells the

same story. Although West Gate Street runs directly into the agora, crosses the north side of the open area, and continues beyond to the east, there was no attempt to lend any special emphasis to the point of entry at the northwest corner of the square. Perhaps the existence of a commercial area just outside the agora to the west made such emphasis impossible. Certainly if the commercial area was really a fish-and-meat market, as the German excavators concluded, an elaborate propylon as backdrop might have seemed rather absurd. We do not know how the northeast corner of the Priene agora was treated in the late fourth and third centuries, since this area was completely remodelled during the building of the new North Stoa (the Sacred Stoa in official parlance) in the third quarter of the second century.23 At this time, a colonnade matching those on the west, south, and east sides of the square was constructed along the south side of the roadway, across from the eastern section of the new North Stoa; on both sides of the street the new colonnades terminated at the east in a solid wall. The end wall of the North Stoa extended southward to the edge of the roadway, so that it defined the eastern limits both of the stoa itself and of the terrace and steps in front of it. The end wall of the stoa on the south side of the street also extended slightly in front of the eastern end of the line of columns (fig. 120). These two end walls terminated in piers that supported a freestanding arch, ca. 6 m in span, above the intervening roadway.24 Here clearly, for the first time in the history of the agora at Priene, there was a deliberate attempt to provide an imposing entrance to the area (fig. 122), without obstructing the flow of traffic along a main thoroughfare. We have already encountered a somewhat similar arch at Assos (if the American investigators’ interpretation is accepted), probably dating from much the same period; and an earlier arched ‘gateway’ has been proposed in the Athenian agora.25 One could hardly apply to the Priene archway the term ‘propylaion’ that is used in IG II2.1668 of the harbour entrance to the Peiraieus agora. On the other hand, the Peiraieus structure, which was presumably colonnaded, is unlikely to have had

Entranceways a six-metre free span; it probably spanned an entrance used only by pedestrians. The placing of the Priene gate at the northeast entrance of the agora area inevitably raises questions about the continuing neglect of the northwest angle of the square, which is much more closely connected with one of the three city gates. The answer can perhaps be found in the overall situation and street plan of Priene (figs. 114–15). This small town could hardly compete as a maritime centre with Miletos, across the gulf. Thus it is unlikely that much heavy traffic approached the town from the seaward, or westerly and southwesterly, directions; and many persons coming from the harbour of Priene on foot may have found it more convenient to use the Southeast Gate. The agora was directly accessible to traffic entering the town by both eastern gates. As we have seen, a street led directly from the Southeast Gate to the southeastern corner of the square; and the eastern end of West Gate Street was connected by a short north–south cross street with the area inside the Northeast Gate. There were no serious problems with gradients in this latter area, where the natural contours of the site curve around toward the northeast. Probably, then, the ‘Agora Gate’ at Priene was designed to give special architectural emphasis to what was for most people the main entrance to the marketplace. In addition, this entrance was the one that afforded the most effective architectural vista of the monuments of the central part of the city.26 Immediately inside the arched gateway the visitor saw a stretch of road flanked on both sides by colonnades; on the right the lines of the North Stoa extended the full length of the square; ahead and on the left lay the open area of the agora, bounded in the background by the facade of the West Stoa; beyond the agora the broad West Gate Street continued to the western limits of the town (fig. 122). In its location and in the emphasis it lent to the overall architectural effect of the agora, the Priene archway seems to be a more or less direct ancestor of the larger designs of Roman times, such as the market gates of Ephesos and Miletos. It is thus all the more surprising that there should be so few indications of similar develop-

39

ments in the larger cities of western Asia Minor, such as Miletos and Pergamon, or in places of intermediate size, such as Magnesia on the Maiander. It is now thought that the Hellenistic agora that preceded the Roman ‘commercial agora’ at Ephesos was right on the shoreline of the period; 27 presumably there was a major gateway oriented toward the harbour. Certainly from the commercial viewpoint the harbour approach must always have been more important than that from the intersection of Kuretes and Marble Streets, later served by the Roman propylon of Mazaeus and Mithridates. At Miletos and Magnesia, however, despite the application of a rectangular grid to largely, or completely, level sites, the city architects of Hellenistic times made no attempt to give the main approaches to the agora even the modest architectural emphasis that we have encountered at Priene. Special treatment of the end walls of the stoas enclosing an agora, as at Magnesia (fig. 123), focused attention on the buildings themselves, rather than on the openings between them that served as entranceways; the latter could have been much more strongly emphasized by including a propylon, or at least a large gateway, within the general framework of the enclosing stoas. If an entrance of the scale and magnificence of the Artemis propylaia at Magnesia was considered too elaborate (fig. 81), a simplified version of a city gate with a single arched opening would have been an effective substitute. Perhaps, then, the idea of a special entrance to the agora originated elsewhere than in western Asia Minor and the Aegean, where it long remained more or less foreign to prevailing theories of civic architecture, and hence was rarely accepted before the large-scale introduction of new ideas in the Roman period. Unfortunately, our knowledge of this aspect of Seleukid and Ptolemaic town planning is very scanty. The most we can say is that Pharaonic Egypt, at least, offered many examples of large rectangular temple courts with a monumental gateway framed by lofty pylons; in Alexandrian, and perhaps also in Seleukid, cities the same basic idea could have been employed for the main entrance to the agora, which was also in Hellenistic times normally a large rectangular area surrounded

40

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

by colonnades. For example, the Bouleuterion, or council-house, at Miletos (figs. 324–5), which was a Seleukid gift to the city, consisted of a colonnaded courtyard, with a propylon at the front and one long side of the council-hall proper closing the back; 28 this complex may well have been a miniature version of the agora or market complex developed in Seleukid cities. The arched gateway of the agora at Priene may, like the new North Stoa, have been part of the gift to the city of a king of Kappadokia; and Kappadokian architectural ideas were probably subject to a good deal of Seleukid influence. In any event, the closed market already appears in fully developed form in the agora of Caesar and Augustus in Athens, complete with propylon effectively placed at the end of the street leading from the Greek Agora (the Gateway of Athena Archegetis, fig. 125); thus the origins of such complexes must have predated the Roman Empire.29 Since many of the characteristic elements are Hellenistic, it may well be that the general type was a Hellenistic rather than a Roman Republican invention. Yet even if a larger number of Hellenistic entranceways were preserved, it would still be true that Hellenistic designers were usually less interested in the specific architectural form of the entrance than in the overall effect of the complex, as seen both from a distance and from inside the open area. Indeed, the latter viewpoint was probably the more important, especially on relatively level sites where there was little opportunity for effective vistas from a distance. Furthermore, although a good deal of thought was given to the effectiveness of the architectural vista immediately upon entering the agora area, the main entrances were seldom located primarily with this vista in mind, their positions normally being determined by the pattern of streets and the flow of traffic. At Athens, for example, where streets entered the agora at all four corners, the contours of the site and the location of the major Hellenistic buildings provided for especially impressive vistas from the points where the Panathenaic Way entered and left the agora; but there was apparently no monumental Hellenistic gateway immediately at the point of entry or exit. In different ways and to different degrees, the agoras of Pergamon, Miletos, and other Anatolian

cities discussed above also suggest a utilitarian approach to the design of entranceways. The preceding paragraph may seem to be contradicted by the American discoveries on the north side of the Athenian agora, where excavation immediately to the west of the building now identified as the Stoa Poikile uncovered, on either side of the street leading into the agora, two massive underpinnings of the late fourth century. Although no remains were found of the superstructure supported by these underpinnings, the excavators believe that this was the ‘gate’ mentioned by Pausanias, and that it was surmounted by a trophy commemorating a cavalry victory over Kassander’s lieutenant Pleistarchos.30 Initially they restored a horizontal lintel above the gate; but an arch has also been suggested (fig. 127).31 Of course we may still ask whether the foundations interpreted as those of the piers of a gateway may not as well (perhaps better) be regarded as supporting the pedestals of separate commemorative monuments, similar to the monuments flanking the northwest entrance of the agora at Priene, even if not as lofty as the pillar of Prusias at Delphi. Moreover, Pausanias does not say that the gate spanned a street; and he places the gate ‘near’ the bronze Hermes Agoraios, ‘on the way to the Poikile,’ rather than abutting on the Poikile itself. The entranceways of small complexes, such as council-houses, gymnasia, and palaistrai, and various forms of clubhouse, were clearly regarded by Hellenistic architects as requiring a much sharper definition than those of the agora; for such complexes were entities in themselves, rather than the sum of many individual entities, as was the case with the agora. The entrances often adopt the propylon form developed in temple architecture from Archaic times onward. Familiar examples are the propyla of the councilhouse at Miletos and of the structure, on the other side of the avenue leading from the harbour, that has been identified as a gymnasium (figs. 128, 290–1); the gymnasium at Priene; the palaistra at Olympia; and the Heroon at Kalydon (figs. 283, 297, 129).32 When opening off a city street, such propyla usually projected beyond the boundary wall of the complex, thus emphasizing the location of the entrance.

Entranceways In many cases there was no inner porch, or else the inner porch was integrated into a colonnaded courtyard. We have already noticed one example of such an entrance in the propylaia of the sanctuary of Artemis at Magnesia (fig. 81), which were visually set off from the enclosing stoas of agora and precinct chiefly by the transverse ridge-line of the roof and by the pediments breaking forward from the roof slopes of the adjoining colonnades. The propylon of the councilhouse at Miletos emphasized the entrance much more strongly (figs. 324–5); its Corinthian columns, appreciably taller and thicker than the Doric columns of the courtyard, made it a very conspicuous element in the overall design. The whole complex was also marked by a strict axiality; a line drawn through the east–west axis of the propylon bisects both the courtyard and the council-chamber proper. Since the inner porch of the propylon was aligned with the adjoining Doric columns, the small Doric order terminated on each side in a small pier or anta, backed against a larger Corinthian member of the same height as the two Corinthian columns of the inner facade of the entrance. This arrangement is reminiscent of the ‘Rhodian peristyle’ of Vitruvius, which is discussed in a later chapter dealing with residential architecture. Probably even more common than the arrangement of the Milesian propylon was that found in the entrances of the Lower Gymnasium at Priene and the Heroon at Kalydon (figs. 283, 129), where one passed through the outer porch and doorway directly into the colonnade surrounding the interior court. This sort of entrance was only possible when the columns of the propylon were identical (or nearly identical) in scale with those of the courtyard. Yet sites such as that of the gymnasium at Pergamon simply did not permit a propylon of conventional type. The Pergamene gymnasium was divided into three terraces, inserted between two sections of the zigzag main street in such a way that in order to reach the interior of the complex one has either to ascend from the lower leg of the street, or descend slightly from further up. A propylon of conventional type would necessarily have encroached upon the main thoroughfare at Pergamon that served

41

vehicles as well as pedestrians; on this street, which was no more than a series of terraced ramps, provision of space for traffic was the first priority. Roman alterations have obliterated the Hellenistic approach to the uppermost terrace; for the lower entrance, however, the Pergamene architects opted for a typically original and effective solution. The main entrance to the gymnasium on the downhill side was emphasized (fig. 130), not by a conventional colonnaded structure, but by a low terrace curving inward in a semicircle from the edge of the roadway. At the back of this terrace contrasting outward-curving steps led to the vaulted stairway that gave access to the large middle terrace. The doorway to the lower terrace was located toward one extremity of the semicircle; at the other end of the curve a large public fountain extended uphill beside the roadway, lending further emphasis and attractiveness to the area around the entrance to the gymnasium.33 Pergamene designers evidently realized that the essential function of a propylon was to emphasize the location of the entrance, and that a colonnaded porch was only one way of achieving this purpose. It is therefore not unreasonable to see Pergamene influence or inspiration in other Hellenistic entrances planned in the same general manner, for instance, the arched gateway of the Priene agora (unless the hypothesis of Seleukid influence, suggested above, is accepted).34 Moreover, Roman architects may well have learned something from their Pergamene predecessors, as well as from Ptolemaic Egypt,35 about the effective use of monumental fountains as elements in groupings of specific buildings – the more so since Roman nymphaea drew their name from the Greek (i.e., Hellenistic) world, and may have first appeared in monumental form in the eastern provinces of the Empire. The small colonnaded porches found in front of the entrances of some Hellenistic private houses were perhaps partly inspired by the propyla of secular buildings such as gymnasia and council-houses, and even more by the entrances of clubhouses such as the Heroon at Kalydon. Such porches appear in late Hellenistic houses at Delos,36 and again in suburban villas

42

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

at Pompeii, such as the Villa of Diomedes. Yet the modest width of most Greek residential streets, even in Hellenistic times, undoubtedly hindered the widespread use of such features; thus entrance porches were most likely to be found in aristocratic quarters or else in suburban or rural villas. If the Villa of Good Fortune at Olynthos is any indication, the propylon was rare in Greek urban residences down to the late Classical period. In Hellenistic times, by contrast, the porches of merchant-class residences on Delos suggest that such embellishments may have been fairly common in the wealthier districts of major cities such as Antioch, Alexandria, Pella, Thessalonike, Pergamon, and Ephesos. The Hellenistic gate to the stadium at Olympia and the ‘gates’ west of the starting lines in the stadium at Priene (figs. 131, 267) are really more closely connected with such structures as the agora gate at Priene than with the entrances of gymnasia and council-houses. In the case of Olympia the function of the gate was to emphasize the formal entrance to the stadium by means of a colonnaded framework spanning the processional way; there was no roofed porch projecting in front of an enclosing wall. Since the lateral spans were closed by low parapets, the structure also served to channel traffic through the central opening. The same sort of free-standing structure was used, for very similar reasons, in the parodoi of Greek theatres, as at Epidauros (figs. 248–9), where the double gates in each parodos marked out and defined the entrances to the orchestra and raised proskenion, or stage, respectively. The Stadium Gate at Olympia consisted of two free-standing Corinthian columns between antae, or piers, in which were engaged Corinthian half-columns facing inward toward the central opening.37 At Epidauros, by contrast, where the designers had to deal with an unsymmetrical arrangement of one ‘engaged’ and two free-standing members, they wisely decided to use only rectangular piers supporting an Ionic entablature. In the theatre at Priene also, simple piers engaged in the corners of the proskenion and in the retaining walls of the auditorium were considered sufficient, since only a single-opening gate was needed in each parodos (fig. 251). Piers were also used in the ‘gates’

at the western end of the stadium at Priene; these ‘gates’ simply gave architectural definition to the approach to the actual starting lines. Though perhaps of early Imperial date, the gatepiers, like those in the theatre, reflect the generally unpretentious character of Hellenistic civic architecture at Priene. In any event, rectangular piers were more practical than circular columns for defining openings, and fluting (if any) might have been damaged by the constant traffic. At Athens, the entrance to ‘Council House Lane’ (figs. 124, 132), connecting the open agora with the porch along the southern front of the New Bouleuterion, was in some respects comparable with the parodos gates of theatres. From a purely practical viewpoint there was no need for a propylon at this spot. Yet the propylon at the entrance to Council House Lane at first served to diminish the stark unadorned masonry at the southeast corner of the Old Bouleuterion; later, along with the colonnaded facade of the Hellenistic Metroon, it also completed the architectural definition of the west side of the agora.38 In addition, it drew attention to the entrance to an area that was important in itself, and therefore shut off from the often frivolous and disruptive atmosphere of the open agora.39 Such emphasis on separation of civic functions, though foreign to the Classical age, is common in Hellenistic planning. In fact, as major Hellenistic sanctuaries were more and more frequently integrated into the overall plan of a city, the function of the entrance might become as much symbolic as literal, emphasizing the transition from what lay outside to the interior of the complex. Despite the close relationship between the agora and Artemis precinct at Magnesia (fig. 81), the two remained quite distinct from each other; for the Artemis propylaia visually and symbolically separated the sacred from the profane. Thus the agora, while clearly remaining outside the sacred temenos, could serve as a sort of forecourt for the sanctuary. Similarly, the propylon of the Athena precinct at Priene permitted the use of Athena Street as a sort of Sacred Way as well as a city thoroughfare (fig. 79), since the gateway formed the western termination of the street and effectively

Entranceways marked the transition (not just the entrance) from the street to the sanctuary beyond.40 This distinction between literal and symbolic functions is necessary in order to understand the design and location of two important examples of early Hellenistic propylaia, associated with the sanctuaries of Asklepios at Epidauros and of the Great Gods on Samothrace. The latter structure, known as the Ptolemaion (figs. 133–5, 138), can be fairly closely dated on epigraphic and historical grounds to the latter part of the first quarter of the third century.41 The North Propylaia at Epidauros have been variously dated as early as ca. 320 and as late as the second quarter of the third century; the proportions of the Ionic elements seem to favour the later rather than the earlier date.42 Neither precinct had a continuous enclosing wall. At Samothrace a temenos wall was probably considered unnecessary, since natural boundaries, in the form of streams or torrent-beds, already existed on almost all sides, and the city wall, with a gate toward the sanctuary, was only a short distance away. The shrine at Epidauros lay almost entirely in a valley, with buildings spread over the landscape in informal groupings – the very antithesis of a clearly defined complex with a continuous temenos wall. Both sanctuaries were accessible from several different directions; but in each case the main approach was doubtless by means of a Sacred Way coming from the city that controlled the shrine. The earlier norms of Greek architecture cannot be applied in these instances; for the heyday of Epidauros fell in the fourth and third centuries, and that of Samothrace primarily in the period from the later fourth century onward. In Hellenistic times it was clearly considered appropriate to mark the dividing line between the sacred and the profane by means of imposing propylaia built at the point where the Sacred Way entered the area of the sanctuary complex. As we shall have occasion to note elsewhere, the setting of the Ptolemaion at Samothrace was also very typical of the trend in Hellenistic times toward the integration of architecture with landscape; 43 probably the same was true of the North Propylaia at Epidauros, although it can no longer be easily appreciated. Whatever the date of construction, the Epidaurian building is clearly related in style to other

43

Epidaurian structures of the fourth century, especially the Tholos (figs. 136–7). The present wooded setting of the ruins is modern, but perhaps not unlike the vista that greeted ancient pilgrims as they approached along the Sacred Way from city of Epidauros on the coast. In the absence of an enclosing wall, and flanked by trees, well, and various dedications, the North Propylaia needed to be definitely set off from their surroundings if they were to serve the symbolic function for which they were designed. The tall and graceful forms of the Ionic exterior certainly stood out further above their surroundings than would have been possible with Doric. In any case, as visitors ascended the outer ramp, passed through the interior with its richly ornamental Corinthian order, then descended the inner ramp back to ground level, they must have felt that they were leaving the secular world behind, in preparation for entering the purer atmosphere of the shrine beyond. It is interesting to find a similar, though architecturally much more elaborate, effect in the Roman approach to the Asklepieion at Pergamon. The colonnades that bordered the Sacred Way leading from the city drew pilgrims unerringly toward the large Propylaia at the end, beyond which they descended a stairway to the spacious and restful courtyard with its sacred buildings.44 The Ptolemaion on Samothrace was equally effective in marking the formal, or symbolic, limits of the area of the sanctuary; for the ‘gatestructure’ proper stands on a platform over a watercourse, which was led under the gatepassage by means of a vaulted tunnel (fig. 138).45 It may be that the line of the tunnel marks the original course of the torrent; or the main bed may always have been in its present location, and the tunnel may have been designed to take off excess water during heavy rainstorms. In either case, since the torrent-bed perhaps carried water intermittently over a considerable part of the year, the designers may have had two aims in mind. On the one hand, the structure emphasized the natural boundary of the sanctuary area provided by torrent-bed and water; on the other, the natural setting of rocks, trees, and water was used to create an example of that architecture in landscape so popular with Hellenistic,

44

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

and especially, it would seem, with Alexandrian, architects. Moreover, the building combined an Ionic outer with a Corinthian inner facade.46 This type of combination is quite unusual, and may simply represent an intermediate phase in the acceptance of Corinthian as a free-standing facade order. Yet it may also have been intended to reinforce the architectural symbolism of the passage from the profane world outside into the sacred confines of the sanctuary.47 Such symbolism must have seemed particularly appropriate to the mystery cult of the Great Gods; and perhaps none were more likely to appreciate this fact than architects whose outlook had been shaped by contact with the religious beliefs and practices of Egypt.48 The Ionic capitals are of special interest; the canalis is richly decorated with carved rinceaux, a motif that seems to have originated in late Archaic and Classical Ionic on the Thraco-Macedonian mainland to the northwest, and is found in a number of capitals of early Hellenistic date.49 If we now turn to the most famous of the mystery sanctuaries in the Greek world, the shrine of Demeter at Eleusis in Attica, we cannot but be struck by the differences, over the centuries from Peisistratos to the Antonine age, in the treatment of the final stretch of the Sacred Way. These differences were symptomatic of the widely varying priorities and concerns of the different periods in the sanctuary’s history. As long as Athens played a major role in the power politics of the Greek mainland, the proximity of Eleusis to the Megarian frontier meant that military security was a governing factor in the plan and arrangement of the limits of the sacred enclosure, no matter what grandiose new designs might be conceived for the enlargement of the Telesterion, or Hall of the Mysteries, within the protective walls. The Peisistratid sanctuary and city seem to have been among the most heavily fortified small sites on mainland Greece; 50 the circuit was extended toward the northeast under Kimon, and toward the southeast under Perikles, in connection with successive reconstructions of the Telesterion and its supporting terrace; the Periklean circuit was later overhauled and further extended, probably toward the middle of the fourth century BC.51

This system of fortifications was maintained throughout much of the Hellenistic period. Yet long before Sulla’s depredations in Attika in the earlier first century BC, it must have become obvious that the inviolability of Eleusis would have to be guaranteed by one or other of the Hellenistic monarchies, or, later, by the Romans. This situation, though not involving immediate or complete dismantling of the fortifications, did clear the way for a visually more effective architectural treatment of the final stretches of the Sacred Way. The new treatment appears in the Inner, or Lesser, Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher, built around 50 BC; under Marcus Aurelius, the late Republican entrance was superseded by the Outer, or Great, Propylaia, an archaizing reproduction of the central hall of the Mnesiklean Propylaia of the Athenian Acropolis (figs. 139– 41). If these structures had any monumental predecessors, no trace of them has survived. As far as we can tell, the only entrances to the sacred enclosure in earlier times had been the gates in the fortification wall, which were designed with a view to military security rather than imposing architectural effects.52 The two Propylaia at Eleusis are as interesting for the differences between them as for those that set them both apart from the earlier entrances to the sanctuary. The Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher stood at the level of the Sacred Way, so that wheeled traffic could still pass through; the Greater Propylaia omitted the central ramp of the Mnesiklean model, and were thus impassable for vehicles. Furthermore, the Inner Propylaia were much smaller, but also much more original in design, than the Antonine building, which was a piece of deliberate archaism, depending for its effect on its scale and its associations with the past. In the highly decorative combination of Ionic and Corinthian forms the Lesser Propylaia also have links with the past – but in this case the recent early Hellenistic past of the North Propylaia at Epidauros and the Ptolemaion at Samothrace. Yet the Eleusinian building goes beyond either of these in the way in which it is adapted to its particular situation,53 as well as in the highly original design of figured Corinthian capitals.

Entranceways The major problem at Eleusis was to counteract the strongly military appearance of the approaches to the sanctuary, created by the survival of the Classical circuit and the conversion into terrace walls of the northeastern sector of the Peisistratid fortifications (on the line of which the Lesser Propylaia were located). The somewhat peculiar design of the Propylaia was apparently intended to shut off from view the more utilitarian structures on either side of the Sacred Way, thus focusing attention on the decorative aspects of the actual entrance. Possibly many of the disagreements over the distribution of the surviving architectural elements have arisen from attempts to treat the building as an isolated unit, divorced from its surroundings. Important Hellenistic, especially later Hellenistic, buildings were rarely designed in this way. In almost all cases the architect can be seen to have been thinking of the total setting of which his new design formed a part, and within which it had to contribute to the overall visual effectiveness of the complex. The Propylaia of Appius Claudius are perhaps most easily understood if seen as a small, but ornamental gateway, set down in part of the Sacred Way that had been converted into a walled court, again small in scale but with richly decorated lateral walls. Thus, as the visitor passed through the gate in the Classical circuit and proceeded toward the Telesterion, the random complex of walls and buildings on either side of the road became less and less visually intrusive; attention was increasingly focused on the gateway and the flanking walls of the little court. Eventually the neighbouring structures were completely shut out, so that the view was limited to the decoration of the court and to the rich and varied Corinthian forms of the actual entrance porch. Obviously, the objective of excluding from view everything but court and gate could not have been nearly as effectively served by a propylon of more conventional form, with the gate-structure extending across the full width of the Sacred Way. Such an entrance, simply by virtue of being larger and more imposing, would inevitably have intensified rather than diminished the contrast with the unimpressive series of buildings on either side. The combination in the

45

actual gate-building of Karyatids, figured Corinthian capitals of unusual design, mixed DoricIonic entablature,54 and (perhaps) Ionic columns breaking up the plain surfaces of the lateral walls is typical of the eclectic trends in both architecture and sculpture in late Hellenistic times; it could hardly have occurred before the first century BC. Yet it is also true that this combination of forms gave the propylaia as a whole a much more arresting appearance, thereby diverting attention still further from the neighbouring structures. The building is in fact a modest forerunner of Domitian’s Forum Transitorium in Rome, designed with very similar objectives in view.55 Sometimes Hellenistic approaches or entranceways evolved in stages, over a fairly long period of time and on a larger scale than at Epidauros, Samothrace, and Eleusis. We have already encountered one example of this, in the sanctuary of Athena Lindia on Rhodes (figs. 29, 76); 56 the approach to the temenos of Apollo on Delos offers an instructive comparison (fig. 142). The propylaia of the Lindian sanctuary were probably built ca. 300, not very long after the construction of the new temple. The decision to place the temple on its traditional site, on the brink of the cliff above the great cave, had ruled out any axial alignment of temple and temenos; the design of the new propylaia, however, helped to mask the resulting asymmetry. The broad outer facade of the Doric entrance stretched across the full width of the temenos, thus completely concealing what lay within; yet the symmetrical wings echoed the form of the Doric temple beyond, focusing the visitor’s attention on the sacred building as soon as he passed through the actual gates. Moreover, the width of the propylaia in relation to that of the temenos permitted the construction of inwardfacing colonnades around three sides of the temple court. These stoas not only added to the dignity of the temenos, but also marked its ‘official’ limits; thus the outer facade of the propylaia once more symbolized the transition from the outward-facing world of the profane to the inward-facing seclusion of the sacred precinct. Of course such an emphasis had always been implicit in the use of a propylon to mark the entrances to sacred areas. At Lindos, however, as

46

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

in other Hellenistic examples, the symbolism is much more explicit and emphatic than in most earlier designs. As a result of this symbolic function of the Lindian propylaia, it was perhaps easier for a later architect to make the outer approaches of the sanctuary still more monumental. The sacred temenos remained, as before, a small area on the summit of the citadel, accessible only by the early Hellenistic propylaia. The Lower Stoa and terrace, laid out ca. 200 at the foot of the great stairway leading to the propylaia, did not in any sense form ‘outer propylaia’; the central part of the stoa was nothing but a decorative columnscreen across the processional way (fig. 75), immediately in front of the great stairway. At the same time, the Lower Stoa, again Doric, was obviously conceived as part of the whole Lindia complex. It was in fact the first major element in the architectural facade of the temenos; its projecting wings could be clearly seen to be repeated in the outer facade of the propylaia above, the wings of which in turn echoed the facade of the temple. The approaches to the sacred temenos of Apollo on Delos presented Hellenistic architects with a different sort of problem. The approach was always by sea; until the later third century visitors may have disembarked directly on to the strand, without the advantage of a special quay. They then found themselves only a short distance from the main processional entrance to the sacred temenos (named the South Gate by the excavators). There seems to have been no special ‘processional way’ leading from shore to gate. Such an unpretentious access to a sanctuary of increasingly pan-Hellenic significance accorded ill with the theory and practice of Hellenistic architecture. At Delos, moreover, the agora lay directly south of the temenos, with no clearcut architectural separation between the two. Probably from the late fourth or early third century onward a series of new buildings was built on the west side of the agora, which was thus shut off from the sea (fig. 153). A long narrow building was constructed along the west side, perhaps to house the offices of weights and measures and of the supervising magistrates. Toward the middle of the third century the so-

called South Stoa was erected against the back wall of this building. The eastern half of the stoa contained a series of shops or offices; on the west it presented a colonnaded facade toward the sea. The agora was thus entirely separated from the open area in front of the new stoa and the South Gate of the sanctuary. The South Stoa was perhaps an offering of the kings of Pergamon; 57 half a century later, ca. 200, Philip V of Macedonia tried to outshine the generosity of the Pergamenes by the construction of another stoa in the area between the South Stoa and the quay, which was constructed ca. 220. The Stoa of Philip faced eastward toward the earlier colonnade that backed against the western border of the agora; it turned its blank rear wall toward the quay. The formal beginning of a regular ‘processional way’ to the South Gate of the precinct was now more or less clearly marked by the southern ends of the two stoas; and agora and harbourfront were no longer allowed to intrude their sights and sounds upon this colonnaded boulevard. To match the stately new approach to the sanctuary, the simpler South Gate of earlier times was replaced in the early second century by a new propylon with colonnaded outer and inner porches, a gift of Athens.58 Yet the blank rear wall of the Stoa of Philip must have made a dull and unattractive vista for visitors as their vessels drew close to the quay. Thus, a generation later the Stoa of Philip was ‘doubled,’ so that it presented a colonnaded facade westward, toward the sea, as well as eastward, to the processional way (figs. 142, 153). At the same time, the building was extended northward, making direct access from the quay to the propylon of the precinct virtually impossible, and thus further emphasizing the importance of the processional boulevard. At this point we must ask on what basis the donors of buildings and the officials of sanctuaries determined the form and location of new structures, such as the Stoas of Antigonos and Philip and the South Stoa on Delos, the Inner and Outer Propylaia at Eleusis, the Ptolemaion at Samothrace, and the Stoa of Attalos at Delphi. We know that these buildings were all gifts of patrons, usually Hellenistic rulers, or later on Romans. Did all the initiative come from the

Entranceways donor himself, with or without the advice of his own architectural specialists? Or did the donors simply indicate their desire to pay for a large new building, leaving the officials of the sanctuary and their technical staff to propose an acceptable type of structure and to suggest a suitable site? A definitive answer to these questions is no doubt impossible. What does seem quite likely, in view of the obvious visual effectiveness of many of the Hellenistic offerings, is that the really important decisions regarding the site and form of new buildings were made by professional architects. It is also likely that these architects were normally employed by the donors.59 At least the Stoa of Attalos at Delphi and those of Attalos and Eumenes at Athens (figs. 163, 152) seem to have specifically Pergamene characteristics, whereas the Stoas of Antigonos and Philip on Delos (figs. 153, 181) must represent in large measure, if not Macedonian, then at least mainland Greek traditions; and both the choice of location and the architectural form of the Ptolemaion at Samothrace should perhaps be associated with the Alexandrian school of architecture. In any event, most Hellenistic entranceways were clearly designed by highly skilled professionals, who planned each new structure as part of the total complex, rather than treating it as an independent entity. This is perhaps the place to consider another kind of entrance, of which a number of Hellenistic examples have survived, namely, entrances, or better ‘pass-throughs,’ most of them leading from one roofed area to another. Such situations obviously differed from the entranceways we have been discussing above, which were usually roofed connections between two unroofed areas. Yet there are similarities as well, and these were evidently appreciated by fourth-century and Hellenistic architects, who were increasingly interested in all aspects of the ordering of interior spaces. These entrances, or pass-throughs, might perhaps be described as ‘interior propyla’; they have been studied in some detail by H. Busing, in ¨ his survey of the use of half-columns in Greek architecture.60 Differences in design are to be expected, depending on the relative visual importance of the areas on each side of the entrance,

47

and also on the need, or lack of it, for grilles or some other form of closure. If the area inside the entrance was less readily accessible to the public than that on the outside, and especially if provision was made for grilles, the best design for the entrance was one with a columnar treatment toward the exterior and rectangular piers toward the interior, that is, half-columns attached to the outer faces of piers. Such an arrangement presented the usual Greek columnar facade on the outside, while the lateral faces of the piers provided a convenient flat surface for the attachment of the wooden or bronze grille-work that closed the intervals. As noted elsewhere,61 supporting members of this type were also sturdier, and had larger bearing surfaces, than conventional columns of the same diameter as the halfcolumns. Four such members stood in antis at the back of the porch of the third temple of Athena Pronaia at Delphi, built ca. 370 (figs. 415a, 415b).62 Certainly half-columns attached to piers would have been more decorative than the rather plain rectangular piers used by Kallikrates in the cellaentrance of the Nike temple at Athens, and found also in the entrance to the pronaos of the ‘Athenian Temple’ on Delos. Busing doubts ¨ that there was any connection between halfcolumns attached to piers and colonnades with the intervals partly closed by parapets. Yet the composite members used in Pronaia III at Delphi might have been inspired by the treatment of the western front of the Erechtheion, where the intercolumnar spaces were partly closed by parapets with grilles above. At least at the foot of the parapets, there were halfcolumns on the outer, pilasters on the inner, faces of the screenwall; above the parapets the pilasters continued upward as free-standing piers, with the half-columns engaged in their outer faces.63 The architect of Pronaia III later adapted this decorative combination to a situation in which Kallikrates had used simple rectangular piers. In keeping with the preferences of the later fifth and fourth centuries for combinations of Doric exteriors with non-Doric interiors, the half-columns in the entrance to the cella of Pronaia III were Ionic rather than Doric.64

48

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

The library at Pergamon was formally attached to the precinct of Athena, as remodelled in the earlier second century; the main entrance opened off the upper floor of the northern stoa of the temenos (fig. 143). Since the columns in the gallery of the stoa were Ionic and Pergamene, the half-columns in the library entrance were Doric, once more no doubt for the sake of decorative contrast. To add still further interest to the design, the order as a whole was ‘mixed’ (as so often in Hellenistic work), with a purely Ionic entablature above the Doric half-columns. Here again, arrangements were made for fitting grilles, in this case hinged, into the intercolumnar openings.65 In other examples of pass-throughs the roofed areas on each side of the entrance might be more or less equally important and frequented. In such cases, the entrance could be given an inner as well as an outer ‘facade,’ by attaching half-columns to both the inner and outer faces of rectangular piers. Such members, on account of their greater length from front to back, could be relatively modest in width, yet still provide a fairly large bearing surface; from both sides of the entrance the general impression would have been of tall slender columns with wide intervals between them, thus enhancing the feeling of spaciousness and elegance in the overall design. If the intervals were exceptionally wide, the length of the free spans could be reduced by attaching the half-columns to the lateral faces of the piers. Busing suggests that the arrangements of half¨ columns on piers in the entrance of Room II of the Heroon at Kalydon should be explained in this manner.66 A similar arrangement of double half-columns on piers is found in the ‘basement’ of the large market-building and stoa at Alinda (figs. 118–19, 144), where again the architect was clearly trying to provide additional support for the heavy beams of the upper floor.67 The earliest examples of double half-columns on piers seem to be those in the Hellenistic palace at Vergina (figs. 348–9), probably laid out in the late fourth or earlier part of the third century. Such entrances were probably common in Hellenistic palaces and large private houses, where at least the effect of spaciousness was important; Busing notes the occurrence of another example in ¨

the Hellenistic palace at Nippur.68 Both single and double half-columns on piers normally have one, or even two, rows of columns in front of them. It is possible that double half-columns on piers were at first confined to the entrances of rooms off which still other rooms opened; later such members were regarded simply as a further decorative elaboration of the basic type. This latter view was particularly common among Pergamene architects; for example, such members are found in several of the exedras of the Upper Gymnasium at Pergamon. Pergamene designers also used such supports for improved visual effect in exterior colonnades (e.g., the Stoas of Attalos and Eumenes at Athens),69 and in open courts surrounded by a peristyle (e.g., the altar-enclosure of the Great Altar at Pergamon). Yet these later Pergamene examples differ in character from those connecting adjoining roofed areas. The latter should probably be seen as a deliberate attempt to transpose the design of the exterior propylon to an interior setting. Transpositions of this sort are quite common in Hellenistic architecture; an example that is both elaborate and unusual occurs in the description (by Kallixeinos of Rhodes, quoted by Athenaeus) of the great river-barge of Ptolemy IV Philopator (died 221).70 The vessel was evidently more or less completely open at the stern, rather in the manner of the car-deck of a modern car-ferry. Immediately inside the opening was a large vestibule, ‘with columns all around’ (i.e., presumably along the sides and across the back); ‘on the side opposite the entrance [i.e., facing toward the bow] was built a propylaion made of ivory and luxury wood. Passing through this propylaion one came to a sort of proskenion arranged as a roofed-over area.71 In like manner, there lay behind this proskenion, along the middle section, a second vestibule, with a quadruple portal leading into it, and portholes on the right and left providing good ventilation. Connected with these entrance halls was the largest oikos, with an internal peristyle, and capable of accommodating twenty couches. Most of this oikos was built of split cedar and Milesian cypress.’ Though Kallixeinos’s ‘tour’ of the river-barge Thalamegos is not always easy to follow, it is clear that all the sections of the vessel described

Entranceways in the above quotation were on the main deck, and were roofed over.72 Thus we must picture a peristyle outer vestibule, with the colonnaded porch of a propylaion breaking forward from the ‘colonnade’ along the back wall of the vestibule, in the manner of the propylaia of the precinct of Artemis Leukophryene at Magnesia, which are set into the eastern colonnade of the agora (fig. 81). On the Thalamegos, however, only the columns of the propylaion may have been completely free-standing, those on either side of them being half-columns engaged in the back wall of the outer vestibule. At the back of the porch of the propylaion, doors in the line of this back wall led into a transverse roofed area, perhaps lighted by windows or portholes at either end as well as between the engaged columns; the ceiling of this transverse area was evidently lower than the ceiling of the outer vestibule, so that the transverse area, with its flat ceiling and the engaged columns across the front, resembled the one-storeyed proskenion that projected in front of the two-storeyed skene of a Hellenistic theatre. At the back of the proskenion, four wide open-

49

ings led into a small inner vestibule, beyond which one entered the largest dining-saloon of the vessel. Understandably, as much as possible of the construction was carried out in light materials; but these were nevertheless very expensive, for instance, ivory and luxury woods such as cedar and cypress. The whole design of the inner and outer vestibules, connected by a colonnaded ‘pass-through,’ was clearly a larger and more elegant version of the plainer structures in stone that we have already discussed. As we have seen, a new type of support was evolved for the stone columns of ‘interior propyla.’ In typically Hellenistic fashion, these internal members might in their turn be transposed to an external propylon, as seems to have been done in the second-century propylon of the council-house complex at Latmian Herakleia.73 Of course the use of modified exterior forms for interior designs, and the later adapting of these new interior forms to exterior contexts, once again anticipates many of the more striking decorative effects employed by the architects of Roman Imperial times.

3 Stoas in Later Greek Architecture

The stoa is perhaps the most characteristic expression of the spirit of Hellenistic architecture. The basic form occurs in the Aegean world from the latter part of the Bronze Age onwards; but neither in the Bronze Age nor in Archaic and Classical times were stoas used as frequently or as effectively as in the fourth century and the Hellenistic period. The stoa determined the architectural form of the Hellenistic agora, gymnasium, and palaistra.1 Colonnaded approaches or enclosures were responsible for much of the imposing appearance of the sanctuaries of Athena Lindia at Lindos, Asklepios at Kos, Artemis at Magnesia, Demeter and Athena at Pergamon, and Fortuna Primigenia at Praeneste (figs. 76, 407, 67–8, 90); and the temples of Zeus at Dodona (fig. 15) and Megalopolis would have been very plain and unpretentious without their colonnaded courtyards. During the period ca. 350–325, the Echo Colonnade at Olympia was designed to give a previously unknown clarity and impressiveness to the eastern border of the Altis; unfortunately, there are problems in deciding at what date the design was first completed.2 Also during the fourth century, the southern approaches to the Olympia sanctuary were much enhanced by the construction of the South Stoa (figs. 77–8). At Delos, the northern border and seaward approaches of Apollo’s precinct acquired a new monumentality from the Stoa of Antigonos and from the colonnaded avenue formed by the Stoa of Philip V and the South Stoa (the latter facing westward

from the western border of the agora) (figs. 142, 153); and the harbour area in front of the late Archaic temple of Hera Akraia at Perachora became much more imposing as a result of the construction of the two-storeyed L-shaped stoa. Even the heavily built-up temenos of Apollo at Delphi was given new points of architectural interest when the Stoa of Attalos I was built on a commanding site astride the upper end of the eastern enclosure wall, and another stoa, perhaps commemorating the repulse of the Galatians from Delphi, just outside the western wall.3 The private houses of Priene, and even many of those at Delos, were often smaller, and seldom significantly larger, in area than the houses of the late fifth and early fourth centuries at Olynthos; yet skilful exploitation of colonnaded porches and courtyards in stone must have lent them a sumptuous air that the wooden pillars and balconies of Olynthos can seldom have achieved.4 In Hellenistic palaces, the courtyard, enlarged to monumental proportions, became the largest single unit in the plan.5 For example, while the palaces along the eastern side of the citadel at Pergamon (figs. 69, 358a, 358b) must have commanded dramatic vistas from any windows in the rooms that faced outward over the eastern valley, it was their central courts that gave their main living areas the cool, yet bright and airy, effects of sunlight relieved by shade. Where ample space was available, as in the urban palazzi of Pella, courtyards developed on an even larger scale, with richer architectural forms; yet these

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture rich houses can probably now be seen as mere reflections of the later fourth-century royal palace, with its multiple courtyards, recently uncovered on the acropolis (fig. 350). A generation or so later, the Vergina palace, with its large colonnaded court (figs. 348–9, 355), and a spacious loggia looking northward over the plain to the sea, echoes the Pella atmosphere of a luxury and elegance unknown in the Aegean world since the destruction of the palaces of Minoan Crete. The peristyle courts of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya (figs. 341–2), and the colonnaded gardens in the suburban villas of the Vesuvian region (fig. 396), both of which must in part reflect the luxurious architecture of great Hellenistic centres such as Alexandria and Antioch, again make extensive use of colonnades to frame large open spaces. Yet not all of these colonnades would be described as stoas, in either ancient or modern usage. Ideally, the term ‘stoa’ should be restricted to colonnades that stood independently of other structures; those that served only as the facade, or adornment, of other and more important elements should be described simply as colonnades. Even so, further distinctions are necessary, though not always easily made. For example, the fourth-century court whose ruins lie beneath the northern end of the Stoa of Attalos in the Athenian agora can quite properly be called a ‘peristylion,’ or ‘peristyle’; it is less certain that the ancient Greeks would have so described the precinct at Dodona, which had no colonnade along the northeastern flank.6 Furthermore, in speaking of one particular side of the Athenian structure, even an ancient Greek might have described it as the north, or east, or south, or west ‘stoa’ of the peristyle; and archaeologists regularly refer to the East, South, and West Stoas of the agora at Priene, though these are in fact simply divisions of a single continuous structure. Moreover, in ancient Greek ‘stoa’ was sometimes used for buildings of basilican

51

form. The Hypostyle Hall on Delos is described in an inscription as the ‘stoa near [or “in front of”] the Poseidion’; and Cassius Dio speaks of the Basilica Aemilia in the Forum Romanum as the ‘stoa called that of Paullus’ or the ‘Paulline stoa.’7 Faced with these problems of terminology and architectural form, all students are deeply indebted to J.J. Coulton’s study of the origins and development of the Greek stoa as a distinct type of building.8 The first independent stoas were long narrow buildings with some sort of colonnaded facade, a solid rear wall, and either open or closed short ends. Some early examples were no more than lean-to sheds or porches backed against a boundary or retaining wall; but two-aisled stoas also appear, probably because the addition of an interior row of columns simplified the problems of roof construction.9 In later times more complex forms were developed: the inner aisle may be partly or entirely replaced by a series of rooms; there may be rooms opening off the inner aisle, or a third aisle may take the place of the row of rooms or shops; stoas with projecting wings at the ends, and L-shaped and -shaped buildings, appear (figs. 150, 155, 166, 120); and the floorarea may be doubled by the addition of an upper storey (fig. 162). Buildings such as the Hypostyle Hall at Delos were specialized adaptations of the multi-aisled stoa (figs. 314–15); 10 and the architectural forms of independent stoas must have influenced the form of the enclosing colonnades in the peristyles of gymnasia, palaistrai, palaces, and private houses. This chapter deals with the underlying reasons for the elaboration of the stoa into such a multiplicity of types, and with the adaptation of the columnar orders to the special requirements of stoa architecture, whether in religious or secular contexts. Moreover, since Hellenistic designers often treated stoas as only one of the elements in a very large complex, we must also consider these buildings in terms of their relationship to particular settings.

A. THE DEVELOPMENT OF STOAS The earliest Greek stoas of any significance were all in sanctuaries. A two-aisled building, some seventy metres long but employing very plain

and simple wooden forms, was constructed to the southwest of the Samian Heraion, probably ca. 625 or a little later; and from the early

52

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

sixth (or even the late seventh) through the fifth century several smaller, but architecturally more significant, buildings were built in the Argive Heraion (fig. 148, 399).11 In addition to providing both covered space for the display of votive offerings and sheltered promenades for visitors, these buildings might also mark the boundary of a sanctuary (as at Samos), or lend a more monumental appearance to its final approaches (the South Stoa, North Stoa, Northeast and Northwest Buildings in the Argive Heraion). The Stoa of the Athenians at Delphi, built in the early fifth century, served to display trophies of war in one of the most frequented stretches of the Sacred Way (fig. 149); it was an early, and rare, example of an Ionic stoa on the Greek mainland.12 Stoas later began to appear in secular contexts as well as in sanctuaries, where they were probably regarded to some extent as commemorative monuments. Peisianax’s Stoa Poikile in the Athenian agora, built in the second quarter of the fifth century, must have been designed from the beginning to accommodate at least those paintings executed by Polygnotos and Mikon; 13 the series comprising the Amazonomachy, Iliupersis, and Battle of Marathon was intended, like the metope-subjects of the Parthenon, to show recent Athenian triumphs over Persia as a continuation of the glorious deeds of past ages. At Sparta too, there was a stoa in the agora (the Persian Stoa) recalling Spartan deeds of valour during the Persian Wars; as a result of later additions and embellishments, Pausanias found it the most imposing building in the area.14 In fact, these buildings were still quasi-religious, in spite of their secular settings; for devotion to the state and commemoration of its past glories was almost a form of religious belief in the ancient Greek polis. A similar combination of religious or state ceremonies and secular setting recurs in the Stoa Basileios, at the northwest entrance of the Athenian agora (figs. 124, 126); this venerable building, probably built ca. 550–500 BC,15 several times refurbished or rebuilt, and preserved throughout classical antiquity, was the scene of some of the most ancient of Athenian religious, judicial, and political functions.16 The Stoa of Zeus (figs. 126, 132, 150), immediately to the south of the Basileios, was closely associated

with the statue of Zeus Eleutherios (or Soter) that stood in front of it; 17 according to Pausanias, this stoa contained the shields of famous military men, as well as paintings of a religious or commemorative nature.18 On the other hand, South Stoa I, on the south side of the Agora area (fig. 151), though apparently also associated with ‘affairs of state,’ represents a further secularizing of the large-scale stoa; for most of the rooms opening off the inner aisle of this building are thought to have been used for public banquets for distinguished citizens or visitors.19 Its secular function may explain the unpretentious character of the building; the Classical Athenian democracy did not provide luxurious accommodation for citizens engaged in the conduct of public affairs. Even the Stoa Basileios, for all its ceremonial importance in the life of the Athenian state, remained throughout its history small in scale and unassuming in its architecture. Peisianax, perhaps the proposer of the decree that authorized the erection of the Stoa Poikile, was probably connected with the family of Kimon; and the new project was doubtless part of the policy of Kimon’s party. In later times kings, princes, and wealthy citizens frequently underwrote the costs of new buildings, in both religious and secular contexts. The Stoas of Attalos I at Delphi, and of Antigonos and Philip V at Delos, are familiar examples; and Eumenes II embellished with stoas and a new propylon the temenos of Athena Polias (‘Athena the City Goddess’) at Pergamon (figs. 69, 72). In secular contexts, the Stoas of Attalos II (fig. 162) and Eumenes II at Athens, the great East Stoa built by Antiochos I in the South Agora of Miletos, and the Sacred Stoa at Priene,20 were among the outstanding examples of stoa architecture known to us (figs. 167, 122, 160); and from the second quarter of the second century BC onward, many Roman generals and magistrates adorned their city and its sanctuaries with porticoes, some of which at least were simply Hellenistic stoas transferred to Italic settings.21 All these later donors were undoubtedly motivated by the propaganda value of their gifts; and it is idle to pretend that Athenians such as Peisianax, no matter how great their patriotism, did not also

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture have some sort of personal and political motivation for their activities. The Stoa Poikile, and even more the Stoa of Zeus, are also early examples of the use of stoas to give sharper definition and greater monumentality to much frequented public regions. In earlier times streets led into the Athenian agora from many directions, and many different types of structure stood around its borders, which were thus ill defined and without clear architectural form. With the construction of the Poikile and the Stoa of Zeus, visitors entering the agora at the northwestern corner could now see the borders of the square clearly defined on either hand: on the west by the Stoa Basileios and the Stoa of Zeus, on the north by the row of herms and the ‘Stoa of the Herms,’ with the Stoa Poikile beyond. Moreover, the building of South Stoa I in the late fifth century provided a long uniform facade in the middle of the south side of the agora. Although the orientation of the buildings on this side was still determined by the line of the pre-existing east–west street that traversed the lower northern slopes of the Aeropagus, South Stoa I now helped to pull together the varied assortment of smaller structures that flanked it at either end. The agora of Classical Athens was a far cry from its Hellenistic counterparts at Priene, Miletos (figs. 120, 166), and Magnesia-on-the-Maiander, or even from the agoras of Assos and Pergamon. Nevertheless, Athenian city architects were laying the foundations for a more closely coordinated design for the agora area; 22 in retrospect, this step was in some ways a more significant contribution to later Greek architectural developments than Classical Athenian achievements in temple design. Despite its size, South Stoa I was a much less impressive building than the Stoa of Zeus – or even than the Poikile, to judge from the remains that have at various times been attributed to this latter building.23 The columns of South Stoa I were quite plain both in material and in finish; the end and interior walls were mostly stuccoed mudbrick; and the means chosen for overcoming the difference in level between the open area to the north and the street behind the building to the south were more ingenious

53

than imposing. The Stoa of Zeus, by contrast, was an elegant design carried out in two contrasting colours of marble plus light-coloured poros limestone; at either end of the main building were projecting hexastyle wings, with triangular pediments crowned by large sculptured akroteria. The building recently discovered on the north side of the Athenian agora, and identified by Shear and his colleagues as the Stoa Poikile, had a solidly built base that suggests an imposing superstructure; and the pieces of superstructure earlier attributed to the Poikile, though they do not belong to the newly excavated structure, clearly come from another important building of the same period – a building, moreover, that was obviously built and decorated in the best traditions of monumental Doric. Yet almost by virtue of the quality of their design and decoration, the Poikile and the Stoa of Zeus were firmly rooted in their own day and age; South Stoa I was in many respects a harbinger of the future. A similar contrast exists between the Parthenon, representing the culmination of Classical Athenian Doric, and the temple of Apollo at Bassai, where the most important associations are almost all with the architecture of the fourth century.24 The Poikile was evidently planned, and regarded, as an outstanding creation in its own right; and the projecting wings of the Stoa of Zeus emphasized both the self-sufficiency of its design and the separation of the building from its neighbours. Indeed, even a short straight stoa, such as the Poikile seems to have been, must have appeared to stand apart from its surroundings, especially with a fairly large order on the facade, and open spaces at either end of the building. South Stoa I, by contrast, despite its modest materials and finish, represents quite a different approach. It was not simply a public banqueting hall (for which severally equally satisfactory alternative arrangements could have been found), but rather a banqueting hall that was planned for a particular site, to serve as a unifying element in its own part of the agora. Of course a Hellenistic architect, given a free hand, might have advanced a much more radical solution to the problem posed by the earlier assortment of buildings along the south side of

54

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the Athenian agora: namely, to demolish the lot, replacing them with a single stoa housing both banquet rooms and fountains, straightening the street behind the stoa, and thus obtaining space for law courts, the mint, and any other functions that could not be accommodated in the stoa itself. The designer of South Stoa I did not go nearly so far; but he did produce a building that both fitted the available space and helped to unify (rather than further fragmenting) the southern border of the open area. During the fourth century, stoas were built in larger numbers and on a larger scale than before. Potentially one of the most important examples planned in this period was the Stoa of the Echo at Olympia (also, according to Pausanias, called the Poikile from its panel paintings); almost 100 m long, it was probably begun soon after the mid-fourth century, but not completed for a considerable time thereafter (see fig. 77).25 The nearly contemporary South Stoa was smaller, about 80 m in length, and faced away from the sacred Altis (figs. 78, 173); its open ends, and the hexastyle gabled pavilion breaking forward from the middle of the colonnaded south side, were probably intended for viewing the great processions that passed in front of the building to the south, then around its eastern end to the southeastern entrance to the Altis.26 Of course, the new South Stoa also provided an effective architectural backdrop for the penultimate stages of the procession; and within the sanctuary, though perhaps less conspicuously, the Echo Stoa may have been designed for a similar dual role. This emphasis on the view toward, as well as the view from, important buildings such as stoas, subsequently became quite common in Hellenistic designs.27 The Stoa of Philip II, on the north side of the agora at Megalopolis, was constructed ca. 338 (figs. 155–6). Pausanias says that the Megalopolitans named it ‘Philippeios’ as a compliment to Philip II, although it was not a gift of his; perhaps, however, Philip participated indirectly, as Antiochos IV later did in the council-house at Miletos.28 Here the winged plan was stretched to a length of more than 155 m; even so, the building did not occupy the whole northern side of the square. The increase in length was balanced

to some extent by adding a third aisle to the interior. The elongated version of the winged plan was evidently repeated on a somewhat smaller scale in the Stoa Myropolis, built ca. 260 along the east side of the agora; and ca. 250 Antigonos Gonatas of Macedon built another winged stoa, about 120 m in length, along the northern border of the precinct of Apollo at Delos.29 The repetition of this elongated winged plan in buildings that may all have been, directly or indirectly, of Macedonian inspiration, may indicate that the type was particularly popular with Macedonian architects. Perhaps they regarded the wings as a means of defining the ends of the area bounded by the stoa; for the western wing of the Stoa of Philip stood at the northwestern, the south end of the Stoa Myropolis probably at the southeastern, corner of the Megalopolitan agora, while the eastern wing of the Stoa of Antigonos defined the northeastern angle of Apollo’s precinct.30 Yet such wings really added little to the practical or aesthetic effectiveness of a long stoa. In many Greek agoras, streets entered the open area at the corners. Thus, either the facade of a wing marking the corner would face the final stretch of the street rather than the open area of the agora; or if the wing faced the open area, there would be an awkward -angle at the corner of the square. Moreover, projecting wings at the ends of stoas 100 m or more in length might appear ridiculously small in proportion to the overall length of the building. The restored elevation of the Stoa of Antigonos shows this unfortunate effect very clearly, and it must have been even more marked in the Stoa Philippeios at Megalopolis. Yet a series of smaller winged stoas occupying the full length or width of a large open area would have had a disjunctive rather than a unifying effect; the continuous colonnaded facades of the Echo Stoa at Olympia and of the Stoa of Attalos and Middle Stoa in the agora at Athens were much more satisfactory. Apparently the designers of the Stoas of Philip and Antigonos did not fully appreciate that the plan of the Stoa of Zeus in the Athenian agora was really only suitable for relatively small buildings that were more or less independent of their neighbours.

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture The great South Stoa at Corinth, extending along the whole southern border of the agora (figs. 157–9), was associated by O. Broneer with the period after the Battle of Chaironeia in 338,31 but is now thought to be at least a full generation later; in Hellenistic times, some at least of the main-floor shops served the normal purposes of such large rooms in agora stoas.32 In any case, the building represents a new phase in the design of stoas; for it was not only one of the largest examples known, but also one of the first to include two storeys of rooms behind a colonnaded facade. Obviously the architect tried to grapple seriously with the aesthetic problems inherent in extending a simple stoa design to a length of 165 m or more. In temple architecture the height of the exterior order was increased in proportion to the length and width of the building, so that the ratio of height to width or length was always much the same for temples of a given order within a given period. The increased height of the order might result in enormously high interior and exterior ceilings; but these simply added to the impressiveness of the building, even though creating (from a purely practical rather than aesthetic point of view) a great deal of ‘wasted space.’ In utilitarian secular buildings, interiors twelve metres or more in height, which added nothing to the functional efficiency of the design, were unacceptable. Thus, the Stoa of Philip at Megalopolis and the South Stoa at Corinth, though both more than twice as long as the Parthenon, had exterior orders (and thus also interiors) not much more than half as high as the Athenian temple. In fact, Greek stoas, lacking the height and sheer bulk that allowed many Roman basilicas to dominate the open space in front of them, must sometimes have seemed to be swallowed in the vastness of the agora on which they faced. Some fourth-century and Hellenistic architects recognized the difficulty, and tried to devise a solution. In the South Stoa at Corinth the height:width ratio of the facade was improved by means of an exterior high enough to provide for an upper floor, a sort of mezzanine looking down on the inner aisle of the open colonnade (figs. 158–9). The increased height under the stoa ceiling was thus partly justified, so to speak, by

55

an increase of some fifty per cent in the useable floor area of the rooms behind, even after allowance had been made for stairwells and an upper-floor corridor. Perhaps this arrangement was inspired by earlier models; for the rooms of South Stoa I at Athens may have been laid out in a sort of split-level arrangement in relation to the street behind the building to the south, and it has been suggested, though without much supporting evidence, that the North Building beside the Lechaion Road at Corinth itself had two storeys of rooms behind a single-storeyed colonnade.33 In any event, the South Stoa at Corinth, standing on rising ground above the open area to the north, must have had an impressive appearance when viewed from that direction. A similar effect was achieved in the North, or Sacred, Stoa of the agora at Priene by placing the building at the back of a terrace that looked down over the open area to the south (fig. 160). Thus, although the exterior order measured only ca. 6.75 m from stylobate to cornice and sima, the crowning members stood some 9.5–9.75 m above the level of the agora. Even in smaller stoas, an increase in height might be considered necessary where the buildings had a backdrop of cliffs or steeply rising ground; we shall return to this point later. The South Stoa at Corinth, with its upwardcurving stylobate and toichobates, and monotriglyphal frieze-units,34 remained late Classical in concept; and like other Classical stoas, it was an independent structure, physically distinct from any buildings at the eastern and western ends of the open area. Yet Attic and Ionian architects had already devised the -shaped stoa, enclosing three sides of an open area; an early example, built ca. 420–415, framed the large courtyard of Artemis at Brauron, the fourth side being closed by the temple terrace and the rising cliffs.35 This new plan was soon adopted in secular contexts. Fourth-century Ionian architects saw it as the ideal method of enclosing a rectangular agora with a continuous colonnaded facade; behind this facade a considerable variety of interior arrangements was possible. The -shaped stoa was used in the agora of Priene (fig. 120), probably in the late fourth century. Thereafter it became commonplace in the ‘Hippodamian’ towns of Asia Minor – so much so

56

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

that Pausanias, a native of the region, speaks of the type as characteristic of Ionia and contrasts it with the ‘old-fashioned’ plan normally encountered in Old Greece.36 The -shaped stoa probably represents a further elaboration of the L-shaped plan. As early as ca. 550–40 the L-shaped Stoa of the Naxians had been built around the obtuse angle that formed the southwestern corner of the precinct of Apollo on Delos.37 The arms of the L extended 25 m eastward and over 40 m northwestward from the angle (fig. 153), shutting out the beach region to the west and the large and ill-defined area to the south of the temenos, and also providing an architectural backdrop for the monuments and dedications between the entrance to the temenos and the temple of Apollo. By the fourth century L-shaped stoas appear in secular contexts, and were common in Hellenistic times. Hellenistic examples, such as those at Kolophon, Miletos, and Aigai, form a 90-degree angle (figs. 116–17),38 whereas the stoa of the Naxians on Delos had simply been fitted to the existing angle of the southwestern corner of the sanctuary. Even in the late fourth century the arms of the L-shaped stoa in the harbour area of Perachora were not exactly at right angles (91 degrees).39 The stoa at Perachora, though quite small, was two-storeyed, no doubt to provide a larger interior floor area, but perhaps also to avoid its being dwarfed against the rising ground and steep cliffs. A similar situation existed in the Asklepieion at Athens (figs. 152, 161–2), where the cliffs of the Acropolis towered over the buildings of the sanctuary,40 and space was again very much at a premium. Perhaps in the third quarter of the fourth century a new ‘incubation hall,’ in the form of a stoa, was built in the Athenian Asklepieion, in connection with the new temple and altar. The main floor of this stoa gave access to the chamber of the sacred spring; incorporated in the western end of the building was the bothros, or pit, used either for pouring libations or for housing the sacred snakes. Thus, it was difficult to provide a sleeping area for patients on this floor. The stoa was therefore two-storeyed, with the ‘incubation hall,’ or koimeterion proper, on the upper floor. Here, as at Perachora, the floor area of the stoa was dou-

bled without any increase in overall length and breadth. These Athenian and Perachoran buildings seem to be the earliest known examples of the two-storeyed stoa; both are more advanced in design than the South Stoa at Corinth, despite their somewhat earlier date. The addition of an upper range of columns posed new problems in design; the Perachora building was perhaps the earliest in which some of these problems were solved by using the Ionic order for the upper colonnade.41 In the hands of Pergamene architects, twostoreyed colonnaded facades developed on a more monumental scale and served a variety of purposes. At Athens, the Stoa of Attalos defined the eastern border of the agora, from the southeastern corner to the point where the street running along the northern side of the open area left the marketplace (figs. 124, 126). Standing on a terrace that increased in height from south to north, to compensate for the fall in ground level, this stoa was virtually a three-storeyed structure in the northern section (fig. 163), and had a much more satisfactory ratio of overall height to overall length than, for example, the Stoa Philipeios at Megalopolis or the Stoa of Antigonos on Delos. The addition of an upper storey also added to the imposing appearance of the Stoa of Eumenes on the south slope of the Athenian Acropolis (fig. 152). This building not only provided a large sheltered area in the immediate vicinity of the Theatre of Dionysos, but also served as a sort of architectural facade for the lower southern slopes of the Acropolis, below the level of Asklepieion terrace.42 Large two-storeyed stoas were particularly common in the Pergamene sphere, for instance, the North, and perhaps also the South, Stoa of the agora at Assos,43 and the Athena stoas at Pergamon itself (figs. 72, 113).44 The two-storeyed stoa is also found in late Hellenistic times at Delos, as in the L-shaped stoa of the agora and in the Agora of the Italians (figs. 153.10, 165); and Hellenistic models doubtless inspired many of the two-storeyed porticoes and arcades of late Republican and early Imperial Rome. Moreover, Campanian wall paintings suggest that two-storeyed colonnades

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture may sometimes have been used around harbours as well as agoras; and some seaside villas seem to have presented two-storeyed colonnades toward the sea, presumably with living and other rooms opening behind them.45 Probably such villas, though using Hellenistic forms, were largely Italic creations; yet they seem to have drawn some of their ideas from Alexandrian models.46 The Hellenistic form of the market-building on the downhill side of the agora at Aigai may originally have had only a one-storeyed colonnade overlooking the marketplace (figs. 117.1, 404).47 Nevertheless, this structure illustrates yet another aspect of multi-storeyed stoas of Hellenistic date, namely that they might have additional storeys below as well as above the mainfloor colonnade whenever they stood along the edge of a terrace with falling ground outside the rear wall. The earliest example of an agora stoa with basement rooms opening off the street outside and below seems to be at Priene (figs. 120– 1), perhaps dating from the turn of the fourth and third centuries. The imposing and wellpreserved examples at Alinda and Aigai (figs. 116–17, 118–19) must be well into the Hellenistic period; the agora at Alinda can hardly be earlier than the middle of the third century, while the market-building at Aigai, built in fully developed Pergamene style, probably dates from the earlier part of the second century. The stoa with basement rooms on the downhill flank of the agora at Latmian Herakleia is best assigned to the same general period (figs. 164a–b).48 Noteworthy, even if of Roman date, is the use of the stoa with basement in the western extension of the ‘incubation hall’ on the north side of the temenos of Asklepios at Epidauros. In this instance it was the length, rather than the width, of the stoa that extended out over falling ground. The earlier eastern half of the building consisted of a single-storeyed Ionic colonnade; as a result of the change in ground level, the later western part of the main floor was supported over a pillared basement. The front wall of this basement was decorated with Doric pilasters, producing the appearance of a two-storeyed stoa with an Ionic order over Doric. At Pergamon, the uphill side of a terrace was often flanked by a two-storeyed stoa, the upper

57

floor of which sometimes gave access to the next level above. For example, the Pergamene Library complex was entered from the upper floor of the northern stoa in the precinct of Athena (figs. 69– 70, 72, 143). A similar arrangement is found in the agora at Assos, where at either end of the back wall of the northern, or uphill, stoa there were perhaps doors opening to a street behind the building; in the ‘basement’ of the South Stoa at Assos were two storeys of shops above large cisterns (fig. 113). The American investigators restored a single-storey colonnade at the level of the agora, but Coulton has suggested that the surviving members could belong to a twostoreyed stoa; 49 in that event, the South Stoa of the agora at Assos would have been one of the loftiest such buildings ever erected in the Greek world, with a total height of five storeys, or ca. 22 m, on the downhill side. In general, however, Greek stoas were designed along very utilitarian lines. The order of the main floor was almost always modest in scale, that of the gallery still lower; thus, even two-storeyed stoas were rarely more than ten or eleven metres in height from the stylobate to the cornice of the gallery. No examples of three-tiered colonnaded facades are known; and single-storeyed structures are much more common than those with two storeys, at least before the Roman period. Even at Pergamon, the overall effect of colonnaded terraces, rising in great steps up the southern slopes of the hill, was more impressive than any of the individual elements. Elsewhere – for instance, at Priene and Magnesia-on-the-Maiander among ‘Hippodamian’ towns, at Athens and Assos among examples that were less regular in plan – the effect of the agora was one of spaciousness and elegance (whether formal or informal) rather than of monumentality (figs. 114, 406, 126, 113). Much the same may be said of the larger colonnades enclosing precincts or adorning their approaches, as in the Asklepieion on Kos, the sanctuaries of Demeter and Athena at Pergamon, and of Athena Lindia at Lindos (figs. 82, 68–9, 76); smaller structures, while still elegant, lack both spaciousness and monumentality.50 Still, the Hellenistic stoa, despite, or perhaps because of, its failure to achieve a fixed monu-

58

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

mental form, was remarkably flexible. Some examples were no more than single-aisled promenades along one or more sides of an agora or sanctuary, as in the small temple courts at Lindos and Dodona (figs. 76, 15) and on the south side of the Athena precinct at Pergamon (fig. 69). Indeed, along the seaward side of the Lindian court there was no real ‘stoa’ at all; to avoid obstructing the facade of the temple, which stood right on the brink of the cliffs, the stoa was reduced to a colonnaded screen immediately in front of the wall of the temenos. ‘Column-screens’ of this type were used around the platform of the monumental altar of Artemis at Ephesos, built during the latter part of the fourth century, and again, on a smaller scale, in the earlier Hellenistic altars of Athena at Priene and of Asklepios at Kos (figs. 83, 87, 82);51 the column-screen of the Lindian temenos may have been adapted from those of altars. Two-aisled stoas have a variety of interior arrangements behind the colonnaded facade. The inner aisle might be completely open, in which case an interior row of columns supported the ridge-beam of the roof; or the space might be entirely given over to shops or offices, the front walls of which then carried the burden of the roof. In the South Stoa of the agora at Priene, the central part of the building was treated as a two-aisled promenade (fig. 120), while shops and other rooms occupied the inner section at each end; moreover, the central portion of the stoa was converted into a spacious hall by the screenwall that closed slightly more than half the total height of the intercolumnar openings of the facade. Around the corner, on the east side of the agora, part of the inner aisle of the stoa was completely suppressed to provide more space for the sanctuary of Zeus immediately to the east; thus, the East Stoa had two longitudinal divisions at the north and south ends, but only one in the central section.52 L-shaped stoas are found in a variety of forms, depending on the size and shape of the spaces they occupied. The north–south ‘tail’ of the Harbour Stoa at Miletos (fig. 166), built in the late fourth century, was much shorter than the main arm that extended eastward around the head of the harbour. At Aigai also, on account of the

shape of the agora terrace, one arm of the L was much longer than the other. By contrast, in the two L-shaped structures that were erected in successive phases of the development of the North Agora of Miletos (figs. 166–7), the difference in the length of the arms was much less conspicuous. The tail of each L ended in an enclosed room; the space between these rooms was filled by the colonnaded facade of a small temple. The western border of the North Agora was thus a virtually continuous colonnade, with the temple facade breaking forward in the middle; the overall effect was similar to that of the western side of the peristyle court of the sanctuary of Zeus at Megalopolis, and also recalls the manner in which the propylon of the precinct of Artemis was inserted in the East Stoa of the agora at Magnesia (figs. 66, 406). L-shaped stoas were also used to close the northern, western, and southern sides of the large South Agora at Miletos (fig. 167); this arrangement permitted an additional entrance to the square near the middle of the west side, between the adjoining ends of the two stoas. The two new stoas, built one after the other, were not identical in size or in plan, nor were the arms of either of them equal in length. The northern L was a two-aisled promenade, with no shops or rooms opening off the inner aisle. The north– south tail of the southern L followed the same plan as the corresponding section of the building on the north side of the western agora entrance; but along the south side of the square the aisles of the promenade were somewhat deeper, and a row of shops was built behind the inner aisle. Interestingly enough, alternate shops apparently opened to the street outside the agora to the south, rather than to the interior of the stoa.53 Still another specialized application of the Lshaped stoa is found in the sanctuary of the Mother of the Gods at Mamurt Kale in the mountains east-southeast from Pergamon.54 Here the small temple, with two columns in antis on the facade, was slightly set back in the middle of the open space between two L-shaped buildings (fig. 168). The short arms of the two Ls were identical in width, but were neither exactly aligned with each other nor of equal length; and the long arm on one side was both longer and wider than

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture the corresponding portion of the structure opposite. Thus, it seems likely that the two buildings were built at different times, or else for different purposes. In both buildings the ridgebeam was supported by a row of interior columns; the facades toward the temenos, however, were formed by walls broken by a series of doors. This plan may have been due to the need for storage space and to the requirements of the mystery cult of the Mother, for instance, for rites performed in an enclosed area accessible only to initiates. A similar enclosed space for sacred rites and processions in honour of Demeter had perhaps been provided at an earlier date in Temple F at Selinus in Sicily by walling up the lower two-fifths of the intercolumnar spaces of the pteron.55 The temple at Mamurt Kale, like many other Pergamene temples, was too small to permit any such arrangement; the necessary enclosed area was therefore provided by a simple adaptation of the basic plan of the two-aisled Lshaped stoa, the smaller L-shaped building serving as a storeroom. Many Hellenistic agoras were built on a slope, and took the form of a broad terrace rising above lower ground on the downhill side. In such cases, the provision of shops behind the enclosing stoas would have involved additional terracing, or elimination of part of the covered promenade, or a reduction in the size of the open area of the agora. Thus the shops were sometimes in the ‘basement’ of the terrace, opening to a street outside and below the agora, for example, as found both at the southeastern corner of the agora terrace at Priene and on the south side of the neighbouring terrace occupied by the sanctuary of Zeus (fig. 121), in the South Stoa of the agora at Assos, on the south side of the agora at Latmian Herakleia, and in the marketbuildings at Alinda and Aigai (figs. 113, 164a– b, 118–19, 116–17). At all of the four last-named sites there were two storeys of rooms below the level of the agora. The basement shops at Alinda and Aigai were divided into inner and outer sections by a row of intermediate supports beneath the interior columns of the stoas above; at Herakleia, the shops may have opened off a covered walk beneath the inner aisle of the South Stoa.56 A similar arrangement is found on the

59

downhill side of the Lower Agora at Pergamon (fig. 169), where the street leading from the main city gate was bordered by a colonnade with a series of basement shops behind. Since the stoas of the Lower Agora were two-storeyed, the south side of the plaza rose three storeys above the level of the street to the south. Still, it is curious that despite the existence of this two-aisled basement at Pergamon, the superimposed stoa was only a single aisle deep, being confined to the area over the basement shops. It may be that the flat roof of the southward-facing ‘basement’ stoa was used as an open terrace accessible from the agora level by doors in the back wall of the single-aisled stoa. If such was indeed the case at Pergamon, the South Stoa of the agora at Assos may also have had an open terrace behind (i.e., south of) a one-storeyed, single-aisled covered promenade; for there is some question about the distribution of the surviving columnar members now lying around the site.57 At Latmian Herakleia, too, it seems possible that above the basement shops opening off a covered walk, on the southern, or downhill, side of the agora, there may have been a single-aisled stoa at agora level, with an open terrace behind, accessible by doors in the rear wall of the stoa. Still another adaptation of the stoa with basement is found in the sanctuary of Demeter at Pergamon, which was located on an east–west terrace, with steeply rising ground to the north and precipitous slopes to the south (figs. 67– 8).58 Like the theatre-terrace high on the western slope of the citadel hill, the Demeter terrace was supported on the downhill side by massive walls reinforced with heavy exterior buttresses. The south side of the sanctuary terrace was evidently bordered by a two-aisled colonnade, with columns facing outward toward the south as well as inward toward the sanctuary; beneath the floor of the inner aisle was a long narrow basement hall, which perhaps served as a storeroom. The floor of the inner aisle of the stoa was supported on a series of horizontal beams resting on stone piers built against the walls of the basement hall. An appreciable number of Hellenistic stoas served primarily as unifying facades, quite independently of any rooms or shops in the interior

60

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

of the stoa itself. The Ionic stoa of the Hellenistic Metroon at Athens gave access to four units differing widely in plan, dimensions, and function (figs. 124, 132). The short arm of the Harbour Stoa at Miletos was originally only one aisle deep, with an open street behind to the west; in mid-Hellenistic times a row of shops was built over the original road allowance (figs. 166– 7). Some of these shops opened to the Harbour Stoa, the remainder to a new westward-facing stoa, also single-aisled and of the same length as the short arm of the earlier L-shaped building. On the west side of the new street-line a small -shaped stoa with four rooms on each of the north and south sides enclosed a small open area. Behind the rooms in the eastern third of the long east–west arm of the Harbour Stoa stood the earlier of the two L-shaped stoas of the North Agora; to the west of this structure, and south of the middle section of the Harbour Stoa, was a completely enclosed peristyle with rooms opening off the east, south, and west colonnades.59 The Harbour Stoa not only gave unity and a certain degree of monumentality to this whole area at the head of the harbour, but also made it possible to double the number of shops and offices in the vicinity of the waterfront. Similarly, the North, or Sacred, Stoa in the agora at Priene drew together what seem to have been civic offices, banquet rooms, council-house, and prytaneion (or committee rooms), which were located along the northern side of the square (fig. 120). Apparently the South Stoa of the agora at Magnesia served a similar function in relation to offices and ‘prytaneion’ built behind it. At Pergamon too, there were two large halls behind the short northeastern stoa of the Upper Agora. We have already referred to the three-aisled Stoa Philippeios in the agora at Megalopolis; and remains of another, smaller three-aisled stoa of uncertain date have been found in the agora at Elis (fig. 170 – presumably the Stoa of the Hellanodikai mentioned by Pausanias).60 Yet the three-aisled plan seems to have been uncommon, at least in Greek times. In stoas designed to accommodate shops or other rooms, a third open aisle was an unnecessary waste of space. In structures planned simply as covered promenades a second row of interior columns

would have been needed only in buildings of enormous width; but such wide buildings would not normally have been acceptable, since the extra width would have reduced the area of the open space in front of the stoa.61 The South Stoa at Corinth, with shops and rear rooms opening off the inner aisle of the colonnade, in effect had four longitudinal divisions (fig. 157). Four lengthwise divisions are also found in the great East Stoa of the South Agora at Miletos (fig. 167); but the plan of this building differs from that of the South Stoa at Corinth. The covered promenade of the Milesian building was only one aisle wide; opening off this aisle was a row of shops with rear rooms, while another row of shops faced outward toward the street outside the agora to the east. This enormous building, about 190 m long and over 22 m wide, was evidently built during the early decades of the third century, as a gift of the Seleukids of Syria to the Milesian people; for an inscription found at Didyma records the offer of such a gift by Antiochos I, while still co-ruler with his father Seleukos Nikator, on condition that rentals derived from the building be devoted to the construction of the new Didymaion.62 It may seem at first glance that the provision of a double range of shops was fairly normal for a very large agora laid out on virtually level ground; the location of outward-facing shops in the ‘basements’ of stoas, at Priene, Assos, Pergamon, and elsewhere, would then be a special adaptation of the Milesian plan to agoras laid out on sloping ground. Yet as far as our knowledge of Hellenistic agoras goes, the plan of the Milesian stoa is quite exceptional. It has no parallels in other large agoras on open ground, for instance, those of Megalopolis, Athens, Ephesos, and Magnesia-on-the-Maiander. In fact, the closest parallel in the Aegean world is probably the South Stoa built in the late third century in the same southern agora of Miletos itself; here the shops, as we have seen, faced alternately inward and outward. Since the arrangement of the shops in the later building was doubtless copied from its larger and more monumental predecessor, it may be that this sort of plan was suggested either by the architect of the East Stoa or by the commissioners

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture of Antiochos (especially if one of these was also the architect of the new building); for the commissioners were charged with ensuring that the new stoa was built in a suitable location.63 If Antiochos’s objective was to raise as much money as possible for the construction of the new Didymaion, the new stoa obviously had to be located in a much frequented area of the city; and doubling the number of both shops and means of access doubtless produced a very considerable increase in revenue from a much less substantial increase in capital cost. Moreover, the two ranges of shops in the Milesian stoa are remarkably similar to the double range of shops in the two market-buildings on the north side of the agora at Doura Europos (fig. 171), a known Seleukid foundation. At Doura, however, there were no colonnaded facades. In the original plan of Doura, as at Priene in Asia Minor, several city blocks had been set aside for the agora. The town planners evidently envisaged an agora of Greek type, complete with flanking stoas; but in fact these stoas were never built. Instead, part of the open area was walled around, with entrances from the streets converging on the agora. The two market-buildings, with shops and rear rooms facing outward as well as inward, were built along one side; most of the remainder of the ‘agora’ was left as open space, in which stalls covered by awnings could be set up when necessary. The actual buildings were simply Oriental covered bazaars, with both inwardand outward-facing shops provided with rear rooms for storage. By the middle of the third century AD the resemblance of much of the area to an Oriental bazaar had become even more striking. Nevertheless, the basic principle was the same as in the Milesian shops; thus, the plan of the great Milesian stoa is perhaps best regarded as a Near Eastern bazaar transplanted into an early Hellenistic Aegean setting, complete with colonnaded facade in front of the shops that faced the agora. The military colony at Doura of course needed no administrative complex in the agora; virtually all military and administrative decisions were made in the headquarters of the military governor, or epistates. Thus, the commercial functions of the agora were no doubt adequately served by the bazaar facilities.64

61

In view of the early date of the Milesian stoa, and the appearance of a similar plan at Doura, it seems likely that Seleukid architects and town planners were responsible for the development in Syria of combinations of Hellenistic stoa and oriental bazaar. This type of structure was still being built in the region in Late Antique times, for H.C. Butler records several examples of two-storeyed ‘stoas,’ with plain rectangular pillars instead of columns, and rooms opening off the back of the covered walk, for instance, the bazaars at Ba’udeh and Babiska in Jebel Barisha above the Antioch-Aleppo road (where such structures were still being built down to the middle of the sixth century AD), the ‘inn’ and ‘stoa’ at Dar Kila (AD 436 and 350–4), and the North Building of the ‘convent’ at Qasr il-Benat, to name only a few.65 These buildings were simply Greek stoas stripped of their Greek orders and ornamental details. In the great East Stoa of the South Agora at Miletos, by contrast, we have a giant Near Eastern bazaar with shops facing outward to the east as well as inward to the agora, where they opened off a completely Greek stoa. The Milesian complex, a gift of the Seleukid royal house, may well have been designed by an architect sent from the Seleukid court as one of the royal commissioners; in that event the unusual arrangement of the shops could have been derived from a prototype in Seleukid Syria. The further west from Antioch the ‘bazaar’ type travelled, the stronger the Greek elements became, while to the south and southeast the oriental elements predominated; Seleukid Antioch was the pivotal point from which influences radiated in both directions, in this as in many other aspects of Eastern Hellenistic culture. A vexed question in the history of Hellenistic city architecture is the existence, or nonexistence, of Hellenistic forerunners of the colonnaded or arcaded streets that are familiar from Roman Imperial times. All extant examples of such streets in the eastern Mediterranean are of Roman date; yet there did exist Hellenistic buildings with colonnaded facades toward the street, even though the colonnades were usually small in scale, and normally found only in special situations. The ‘basement stoa’ on the south side of

62

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the Lower Agora at Pergamon flanked a main thoroughfare (fig. 169); probably the same was true of the covered walk in front of the basement shops on the south side of the agora at Latmian Herakleia (figs. 164a–b). Since terraced agoras were fairly common in the Greek world, the street colonnade of the Lower Agora at Pergamon could have had parallels still unknown to us. Another example of a short colonnaded thoroughfare occurs at Delos, in the mid-Hellenistic form of the processional way leading from the harbour area to the South Gate of the precinct of Apollo (figs. 142, 153); this complex has been discussed earlier in connection with entranceways. Yet although the above examples may anticipate the street colonnades of the Roman period, they are still a far cry from the covered pedestrian walks that lined the main streets of Roman towns and cities as diverse as Ostia, Timgad, Antioch, and Palmyra. On the whole, it seems unlikely that future excavations in the Aegean and Asia Minor will reveal any real Hellenistic parallels for these Roman structures. In known examples of Hellenistic city planning in these areas it is clear that no provision was made either for colonnaded streets or for the raised pedestrian walks that are found at Pompeii and Ostia. Even on main thoroughfares the facades of houses and other buildings normally extended right out to the edge of the street. Thus, in the vast majority of cases space for street colonnades could have been obtained only by reducing the width of the roadway (never very generous even on main streets) or else by demolishing the existing buildings and replacing them with new structures set back from the edge of the street. Opportunities for such large-scale projects of urban renewal were rare, occurring only as a result of destruction by enemy action or by great earthquakes, fires, or floods. In such cases the urgency of reconstruction was usually very great; even in Imperial Rome, Nero and his successors encountered opposition in enforcing new regulations regarding the setback of facades and the provision of flat-roofed porticoes along the streets, to aid in fighting and controlling future conflagrations.66 Moreover, the military requirements of Hellenistic town planning discouraged embellish-

ments such as street colonnades. The larger the space allowed for streets and pedestrian walks, the less there was left over for houses and public buildings, unless the fortified area of the city was increased. Yet Hellenistic cities could ill afford a wall-circuit that was too extended to be manned by the number of troops available, especially if such an extension involved the inclusion of a good deal of open and easily accessible terrain. Thus, apart from the agora region and a few major sanctuaries, the fortified area was usually divided by streets of modest width, flanked by buildings that normally extended right out of the edge of the pavement. Of course, the situation in the western Aegean and Asia Minor was not necessarily repeated in southeastern Anatolia, Syria, and the great Ptolemaic cities such as Alexandria. Since the earliest Roman colonnaded streets seem to occur in the territories of the former Eastern Hellenistic kingdoms, any Hellenistic antecedents would most reasonably be sought in those regions – where, unfortunately, knowledge derived from actual excavation is very fragmentary. Writing in 1929, D.S. Robertson concluded that there was no evidence for colonnaded streets anywhere in the Hellenistic world. Even in 1961, after the conclusion of the excavations at Antioch in Syria, G. Downey was still inclined to support Robertson’s view, finding no real evidence of Hellenistic colonnaded streets even at Antioch.67 The great colonnaded main street of Roman Antioch clearly lay outside the limits of the original city of Seleukos Nikator; this street, running from northeast to southwest, more or less parallel to the river, became the central thoroughfare of the late Hellenistic and Roman city only after Antiochos IV laid out his new quarter of Epiphaneia, between the riverside city of Seleukos and the slopes of Mt Silpios. Literary sources record the paving (or repaving) of the street, and the construction of flanking colonnades, in connection with the activities of Herod the Great and Tiberius, that is, in any event under the early Empire. The tradition that Antiochos IV laid out the street as a colonnaded thoroughfare was held by Downey to be without foundation. Since the publication of Downey’s survey, the results of excavations along the main street of an-

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture cient Antioch have been published in detail by J. Lassus, in the fifth volume of Antioch-on-theOrontes.68 If Lassus’s interpretation of the finds is accepted, Downey’s and Robertson’s views may have to be somewhat revised. It is still true that in the time of Antiochos IV the southwestern stretch of the new main street, where it ran outside the original wall of Seleukos I, was far from monumental. The nature and contents of the flanking structures suggest that at least in early Seleukid times the area was an artisan’s quarter. The actual roadway was frequently repaved, but always in modest fashion, with crushed stone and packed earth, and with no evidence of flanking colonnades. Further to the northeast, however, and outside the area of the original Hellenistic city, Lassus notes the remains of a Hellenistic flagstone pavement of generous width, flanked on one side, and probably on both, by a raised pedestrian walk, originally 1.3 m wide, later increased to 4.3 m. In the later period the street was evidently lined by shops opening to the sidewalk; moreover, Lassus believes that the gutter along the edge of the pavement, together with what may be a columnbase, indicates the existence of colonnades flanking the roadway. The columns, if the ‘columnbase’ is correctly identified as such, must have carried a long-span wooden entablature. In an area not yet heavily built over it would of course have been fairly easy to provide a more generous road allowance, including space for colonnades and shops; on the other hand, the southwestern stretch of the new street, immediately outside the wall of Seleukos I, already had buildings on either side, making the construction of a wide colonnaded street much more difficult and expensive. While Lassus at one time believed that Antiochos Epiphanes was responsible for the construction of the original colonnades lining the northeastern sector of his new thoroughfare, he acknowledged that the evidence for this conclusion was very sketchy; thus in his article on Antioch in the Princeton Encyclopedia of Classical Sites (1976), he is inclined to follow Downey in assigning the first street colonnades of Antioch to Herod. At the same time, the massive barrel vaults that carried the new main street of Antioch over the bed of the Parmenios winter torrent

63

seem to date from the time of Antiochos IV, and were certainly planned and built on a scale that permitted the inclusion of pedestrian walks on either side of the street. Of course there is still no evidence even suggesting that these walks were covered by a colonnade.69 The same sort of uncertainty exists in connection with other examples of street colonnades in the cities of ancient Syria, such as Seleukeia Pieria, Laodikeia Epithalassia, Apameia, Aleppo-Beroia, and Damascus. The city plans of the great cities founded by Seleukos I Nikator, as revealed particularly by the investigations of J. Sauvaget, are often so similar in the size of the blocks, or insulae, as to suggest that at least some of them were laid out by the same architect.70 The streets of Laodikeia were three to five metres wide, with a few of greater width; at least in Roman times some of them were provided with colonnades. If colonnaded streets existed in Hellenistic Antioch, some of those at Laodikeia may also have been laid out during that period. Whether such thoroughfares existed in Hellenistic Seleukeia, especially in the harbour area, can be ascertained only by further excavation; however, J.Ch. Balty has recently argued that the portion of the great colonnaded street that lies outside the city gate at Apameia was originally built in late Hellenistic times (ca. 100 BC), even though several times rebuilt by the Romans71 Colonnaded streets are unknown at Doura Europos; and really major excavation of the Hellenistic levels of Aleppo and Damascus is scarcely feasible.72 What is known of the original street grid of these cities suggests that, as at Antioch and Laodikeia, no provision was made for streetside stoas; later modifications could of course have taken place at any time. On the whole, there is still no hard evidence for colonnaded streets anywhere in the Hellenistic world. At most, there were some examples of individual buildings with stoas opening to the street; but these colonnades were designed as parts of the buildings themselves, rather than as elements in the streetscape.73 We have already remarked that ‘terraced’ stoas were widely used in Hellenistic, and especially in Pergamene, city architecture. In some cases these stoas had colonnaded facades facing

64

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

both inward and outward, as in the agora level of the market-building at Alinda, and perhaps in the stoa on the south side of the Athena precinct at Priene. The German excavators of Priene now believe that from the later second century onward the precinct of Athena had along its south side a plain wall, against the outer face of which a single-aisled stoa was constructed, looking out over a broad open terrace to the south (figs. 79, 160).74 In the German view, stoa and terrace were designed primarily as a public promenade commanding magnificent views over the lower city to the plain and gulf beyond; and such vistas are certainly very typical of the city architecture of the Hellenistic age.75 Yet one might have expected that a late Hellenistic stoa in a temenos would also have had a colonnaded facade on the inner side, rather than the plain wall suggested by the Germans and accepted by Coulton and, more recently, by Carter. If such was the case, the Priene stoa would be another example of a building with a colonnade along both long sides.76 Examples of stoas with colonnades on both long sides, or even all four sides, certainly occur in other situations where they could be effectively used. According to Pausanias, the ‘Corcyraean Stoa’ in the agora at Elis, built with booty taken from the Corcyraeans in the course of the struggles that preceded the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, was in his day, at least, divided along its length by an internal wall; apparently the building had a colonnaded facade both on the north, toward the agora, and on the south, toward an east–west street. Probably the southern colonnade allowed the use of the building for viewing the great processions in Elis that were associated with celebrations of the Olympic festival; 77 as we have seen, the South Stoa at Olympia itself was doubtless also used in this manner. In any event, there are at least two important examples of Hellenistic stoas that must certainly have been designed, at least in part, to serve such functions. For example, we noticed in chapter 2 that after the Stoa of Philip V on Delos had been ‘doubled’ by constructing a second colonnade facing westward toward the harbour (figs. 142,

153), the enlarged structure served both as an architectural backdrop for the area around the harbour and as a vantage point for viewing processions crossing this area, passing around the southern end of the stoa and proceeding northward along the colonnaded avenue to the entrance of the sanctuary. The Middle Stoa of the Athenian agora (figs. 124, 172) served a number of different functions. Before the construction of this building in the earlier second century, the border of the rising ground in the southern part of the agora had been rather irregularly defined by a series of buildings of varying size. South Stoa I had done something to improve the aspect of the southern side of the open area; but this building was modest in size and unimposing in the materials employed. In the Hellenistic remodelling of the region, the main open area of the agora was sharply defined by the long northern facade of the Middle Stoa, set on a terrace that increased in height as the ground fell away towards the west. Colonnade and terrace alike offered impressive views both of the large open area to the north and, a little later, of the new Stoa of Attalos on the eastern side of the square. An interior colonnade, with some of the intervals partly closed by screenwalls, supported the ridge-beam of the roof; and the columns of the facade continued across the short ends of the building to join the colonnaded facade along the south side. Yet the building was not really open at the ends, since all the end intercolumnar spaces were probably closed by screenwalls, as were several intervals at each end of both the northern and southern facades. The colonnade along the south side of the building faced toward the smaller South Square, of which it formed the northern border. This area was bounded on the east by a short stoa toward the Panathenaic Way, on the south by the long South Stoa II, and on the west by the eastern wall of the square enclosure that probably served as a law court. The Middle Stoa thus formed an effective border both for the main agora to the north and for the South Square; with an open colonnade along most of both sides, it afforded interesting views of many different aspects of the public life of Hellenistic Athens.

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture

65

B. THE COLUMNAR ORDERS IN STOA ARCHITECTURE The adapting of the columnar orders to new uses in stoas is as typical of the spirit of Hellenistic architecture as the varied functions of the stoas themselves. In the earliest Iron Age Greek stoas, columns and superstructure had been entirely of wood; however, by the sixth, or even the late seventh, century stone colonnades were already being constructed. From this period onward wooden superstructures, or entablatures, gradually disappeared, at least in larger buildings, although wood may still have been used in the second quarter of the second century, if in fact Lassus correctly identified and dated a block that served as a base in a street colonnade with wooden entablature built at Antioch by Antiochos IV. Of course ceilings, if any, and roof structure were always of wood, as in temple interiors. With the appearance of stone columns on the facade, it becomes possible to distinguish between Doric and Ionic stoas. As one might expect, the stoas of the Argive Heraion used Doric columns, whereas the L-shaped Naxian Stoa on Delos was Ionic.78 No doubt most early stone stoas in Asia Minor were also built in the Ionic style. Even on the Greek mainland the Athenian Stoa at Delphi (fig. 149), built in the earlier fifth century, employed Ionic columns with long-span wooden superstructure.79 Nevertheless, the architects of Classical Athens, who gave the stoa a permanent place in the repertoire of Greek monumental architecture, normally used Doric for any medium-sized to large building, preferring Ionic only for smaller structures or for interiors. Thus by the end of the fifth century Doric was firmly established as the exterior order of all forms of stoa, while interior columns, if any were required, were likely to be Ionic (the Stoa of Zeus, and possibly also the Poikile, in the Athenian agora).80 Doric exteriors, with Ionic interiors in the case of two-aisled buildings, were by far the most common design until late Hellenistic times, when some architects began to use the richer and more elegant Ionic for exteriors as well as interiors (e.g., the Ionic stoa in the temple court at Lindos – figs. 29, 75). In the hands of the Romans Doric was eventually completely

displaced by Ionic and Corinthian; before the Roman period Corinthian was rare, although it does occur sporadically, for instance, in the interior of the South Stoa at Olympia (fig. 173 – where, however, the preserved Doric and Corinthian capitals can hardly belong to anything earlier than a late Hellenistic reconstruction) and the figured Corinthian capitals in the colonnades of the Asklepieion at Messene (fig. 174).81 Whether Doric or Ionic, the columns of Hellenistic stoas, especially in secular contexts, were often much more utilitarian in material or finish, or both, than those of temples. Marble was used for the facade of the Stoas of Attalos II (figs. 145, 163) and Eumenes II at Athens, as it had been in the fifth century for the Stoa of Zeus; but royal donations were always likely to be more sumptuous in appearance than ordinary buildings. The stoas in the agora at Assos and the marketbuildings at Aigai and Alinda are much more typical of Hellenistic secular colonnades (figs. 116, 118, 144). The materials were very durable, but even if coated with stucco they must have appeared less elegant than marble. The stoas at Rhamnous and Oropos were built of stuccoed limestone; at Priene coarse-grained marble was used for the agora and other buildings only because it was the material most readily obtainable. In general, these Hellenistic buildings are more closely related to South Stoa I in the Athenian agora than to the nearby Stoas of Zeus and Attalos II. Yet even in plainer buildings architects were concerned with costs of maintenance. The floors of many Greek stoas were simply packed earth, or a mixture of earth and stone chips; both the laying and the periodic resurfacing of these floors was simple and inexpensive. Stone floors of course were more expensive, but also much more durable. A more serious problem, perhaps, was the risk of damage to the lower parts of the columns. Large numbers of people passed in and out daily between the exterior columns of secular stoas; and the interior columns doubtless took a good deal of abuse from the crowds of people using the buildings. The frequent omission of fluting

66

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

on interior columns (as in the Stoa of Attalos at Athens – fig. 175), or at least the limiting of fluting to the upper part of the shaft (as in the Sacred Stoa at Priene – fig. 176), though saving time and money during construction, must have been intended primarily to avoid damage to the sharp edges of the flutes. Exterior columns, too, might be unfluted, or have the flutes confined to the bottom of the base-drum and the top 5 to 10 cm of the shaft, as in the East, South (fig. 177), and West Stoas of the agora at Priene. In major showpieces, such as the Sacred Stoa at Priene (fig. 160), the shaft might be completely fluted; more often, the lower part of the shaft was faceted rather than fluted, the bottom drum or drums being polygonal on plan, with one facet corresponding to each flute in the upper part. Coulton points out that the faceting normally extends 1.6–1.8 m up the shaft, regardless of the total height of the column, rather than over a fixed proportion of the total height.82 Clearly the purpose was to avoid sharp-edged arrises in the part of the column most exposed to damage. Where the shaft was completely fluted, some protection could be provided for the shafts of Doric columns by using Ionic flutes with flat arrises. The earliest example of faceting perhaps occurs in the columns of the ‘incubation stoa’ at Epidauros. During the Hellenistic period, it appears in the orders of temples as well as in stoas, as in the Doric temple of Hera Basileia at Pergamon and the Corinthian temple of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ (fig. 98). There seem to be no Hellenistic prototypes for the Roman combination of ‘reeding’ (convex fluting) in the lower with concave fluting in the upper part of the shaft. Hellenistic architects clearly appreciated the need for greater decorative interest and variety in the forms of Hellenistic Doric columns; probably they used combinations of facets and flutes as much for aesthetic as for practical purposes. By the latter half of the fourth century Doric capitals had completely lost the strength and simplicity of Archaic times. Hellenistic designers therefore endeavoured to give new life to the Doric capital by adding a narrow moulding along the top edge of the abacus; this moulding is common in Asia Minor Doric from the end of the fourth century onward. In purely ornamental examples of

Hellenistic Doric, such as the half-columns of the council-house at Miletos (fig. 326), even the Doric echinus may be adorned with an Ionic egg-anddart, evidently copied from the capitals of the Karyatids in the Erechtheion.83 As interior orders in stoas, Ionic and Corinthian presented few problems. Supporting only an architrave, which was sometimes of wood, the columns could be quite widely spaced. O. Bingol ¨ has reasonably suggested that elaboration of carved ornament on the ends of the bolster (increasingly common in Ionic capitals of Hellenistic date) began as a result of the greater ‘visibility’ of this part of the capital in widely spaced columns of modest height. Such columns occur both in secular contexts such as stoas and in the smaller-scale temples of Hellenistic times.84 The form of the capitals also varies considerably from one building to another, in keeping with the generally experimental nature of both Ionic and Corinthian. Interior Ionic capitals, set high up under the ceiling, usually lacked the overall elegance of temple orders; but interesting experiments in structure and ornament are found at internal angles, as in the agora stoas at Magnesiaon-the-Maiander (fig. 178) and in the innermost rectangle of columns in the Hypostyle Hall on Delos (fig. 179). When used as an exterior order in the gallery of a two-storeyed stoa, such as the Stoa of Attalos at Athens (fig. 145), Ionic capitals have the usual low Hellenistic proportions but are often much more richly decorated. Moreover, the change from Doric columns on the main floor to Ionic columns in the galleries may be matched by a similar change in the interior order. One might have expected Ionic interior columns on the main floor to be accompanied by Corinthian in the interior of the gallery. In actual fact, Pergamene architects, who were responsible for a large proportion of the two-storeyed Hellenistic stoas known to us, seem to have had little liking for Corinthian. For the interior order of upper storeys they preferred the Hellenistic derivative of Archaic palm-capitals that is known as Pergamene. Outside the Pergamene kingdom, this leaf-capital seems to occur only in the Stoas of Attalos and Eumenes at Athens (fig. 180).85 In the seventh-century Southwest Stoa of the Samian Heraion, columns and superstructure

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture had been entirely of wood; 86 thus both interior and exterior supports could be set relatively far apart, with the same number of supports in each row. With the appearance of stone columns and entablatures, the heavier superstructure required more closely spaced supports. The North Stoa of the Argive Heraion (fig. 148.II) still has the same number and spacing of interior and exterior columns, but the axial spans are shorter than those in the Samian building; as a result, the interior columns were far more numerous than was necessary for supporting the wooden ridge-beam and the framework of the roof. In the Northwest Building and South Stoa of the same sanctuary, the number of interior columns was therefore reduced, and no attempt was made at aligning them with those of the facade. The Northwest Building apparently had seven spans inside; on the facade there were probably twelve spans, with short returns of wall at each end. In the South Stoa there were nineteen spans on the facade, as against ten in the interior. The original Stoa Basileios in the Athenian agora, dating from the late sixth century, also had a smaller number of interior columns, aligned with those of the facade; 87 in the long stoa in the Amphiaraion at Oropos, built ca. 350, there were seventeen interior spans, with forty on the facade in a slightly shorter space.88 The Stoa of Zeus and South Stoa I in the agora at Athens (figs. 150–1) both seem to have had the interior supports aligned with every second column of the facade, and this arrangement is common, though not invariable, in later stoas.89 Clearly Greek designers had no hard and fast rules in such matters. The spacing of the exterior columns was doubtless determined primarily by structural requirements and the currently accepted proportions for the exterior orders of stoas. In the interior, however, the major consideration was the spacious and uncluttered effect of the covered promenade; interior columns were therefore much more widely spaced, even when the longer spans required larger columns. If there were rooms opening off the covered promenade, the size of these was determined by the functions they served; the number of rooms, and even the placing of the doors, was seldom determined by the axial spacing of

67

the columns. In short, Greek stoas were above all functional and utilitarian buildings, in which aesthetics were only rarely a major factor in determining the division of the interior space. Even on the exterior, fourth-century and Hellenistic architects paid little attention to the ratio between overall height and overall length in stoas. Beyond a certain point, as we have remarked earlier, the height of the exterior order no longer increased with the length of the building; for observance of a ‘standard’ ratio of height to length would have required larger, and more expensive, columns, and would have produced a great deal of ‘waste space’ under the resulting high ceiling. For aesthetic reasons, the gallery columns of a two-storeyed building were normally a good deal shorter than those on the main floor; in the Stoa of Attalos at Athens the ratio is about three to five (fig. 163). This arrangement raised no serious problems if both orders were Ionic (or for that matter Corinthian). However, if both ranges of columns were Doric, a larger number of smaller triglyphs and metopes was required in the gallery colonnade, although the spans were the same as those on the main floor. For example, the fourth-century stoa in the Asklepieion at Athens (figs. 161–2) had two triglyphs and three metopes over the main floor spans, four triglyphs and five metopes in the gallery.90 This awkward lack of correspondence could be avoided by using the Ionic order in the gallery. The earliest stoa to have this combination of orders seems to be the L-shaped Harbour Stoa at Perachora, which was planned as a two-tier facade, unlike the fortuitous effect of the Abaton at Epidauros. Ionic over Corinthian had been used a few years earlier in the interior of the temple of Zeus at Nemea, and indeed even earlier in the superimposed orders of halfcolumns in the new temple of Alea Athena at Tegea; 91 in stoas, the combination of Ionic over Doric may have been an innovation of Peloponnesian architects, based on related designs in Peloponnesian temples. Yet two-storeyed Doric facades are still found in some Hellenistic buildings; in such cases the problems posed by the elements of the Doric frieze could be avoided by placing an Ionic entablature over the Doric

68

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

columns of the gallery. Such mixed orders are of course not uncommon in the Hellenistic period; the Athena stoas at Pergamon, the ‘CorinthianDoric’ temple at Paestum and the order of the Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher at Eleusis are familiar examples from the second and first centuries BC (figs. 52, 141).92 We have seen, in chapter 2, that the increasingly slender and widely spaced Doric columns of the fourth century and the Hellenistic period raised new problems with the elements of the Doric frieze. In Archaic and early fifth-century Doric, the frieze-course had been lower than the architrave; in the temple of Zeus at Olympia the two elements were equal in height. It seems to have been the architects of Classical Athens who first experimented with making the frieze-course higher than the architrave; presumably they did this in order to preserve the traditional proportions of height to width in the metopes and triglyphs, even though the interaxial units of the entablature were now longer in relation to their height. In the fourth century the height of the frieze-course continued to increase at the expense of the architrave; but this process could be carried only so far without endangering the structural soundness of the architrave beams. Thereafter the traditional proportions of triglyphs and metopes could be maintained only by shortening the axial spans in relation to the thickness of the columns, by using a larger number of smaller triglyphs and metopes, or by a combination of these two solutions. In temple designs, the traditional distribution of triglyphs and metopes was maintained as long as possible. Elsewhere, additional triglyphs and metopes are found in stone at least as early as the early fifth century. An extra triglyph and metope were added in the widened central span of the Mnesiklean Propylaia at Athens; and Weller’s suggestion that the Mnesiklean arrangement was copied from the late Archaic propylon has been generally accepted.93 Coulton indeed suggests that there may have been other fifth-century examples in stoas such as the Poikile in the Athenian agora. He further points out that ‘polytriglyphy’ must have been normal, or at least common, in earlier Doric wooden colonnades, where the spans were much longer than in later

stone structures.94 In the wooden peristyles of the Heraion at Olympia and (presumably) the early Archaic Argive Heraion, the axial spans were probably as great as 3.5–4 l.d.; thus unless the canonical proportions of the Doric frieze elements were established only in the second quarter of the sixth century, the wooden friezes of these early Doric temples must also have been polytriglyphal.95 In other words, there may have been several monumental prototypes for the polytriglyphy of fifth-century designs. Over sixty years ago H.A. Thompson restored the central facade of the Stoa of Zeus in the Athenian agora with polytriglyphal frieze-units; and we now know that such a scheme was certainly used ca. 420–415 in the stoa that ran around three sides of the precinct of Artemis at Brauron. From the middle of the fourth century onward polytriglyphal friezes were normal in Doric stoas, although the earlier canonical arrangement of the frieze is still found in the South Stoa at Corinth (fig. 157), and the Stoa of Antigonos on Delos offers a singularly unattractive example of monotriglyphal frieze-units with oblong metopes (fig. 181). At least in theory, the number of triglyphs and metopes in each axial span could be increased indefinitely; however, a large number of very small elements would have been rather unattractive. In the proskenion colonnades of middle and late Hellenistic theatres, sturdy supports in the form of half-columns attached to piers permitted the use of higher and heavier entablatures, without either increasing the thickness of the columnar element or reducing the length of the spans. This solution was much more attractive than that of the combined architrave-frieze course of the Doric temple at Cori in Italy, probably built ca. 100 BC (fig. 182); in this building the greater part of the height is assigned to the frieze, leaving only a vestigial ‘architrave.’ The combined architrave-frieze course was a later fourthcentury or Hellenistic innovation; but it was less appropriate in Doric than in Roman Ionic or Corinthian, where it was accompanied by a considerable increase in the number and total height of the elements of the cornice. Certainly Vitruvius would have found the relative proportions of architrave and frieze at Cori quite unacceptable,

Stoas in Later Greek Architecture even though he permitted the frieze to be much higher, in relation to the architrave, than in any examples of Hellenistic Doric east of the Adriatic.96 The frieze of the Doric temple, with its orderly succession of triglyphs and metopes terminating in a triglyph at each end of each side of the building, probably originated in small distyle-in-antis temples, rather than in prostyle or peripteral structures. The placing of triglyphs above the antae presented no problems, since the outer spans could be reduced to permit a triglyph at each corner. In fact, both Gruben and Robertson remark that even in peripteral buildings with wooden columns and entablatures, corner triglyphs of normal proportions could still be centred over the corner columns, since the thickness of the wooden architrave and frieze courses would have been much the same as the width of the individual triglyphs. With thicker columns and superstructures in stone, the ‘law of the corner triglyph’ did present a serious problem, which Robertson described as the ‘worm in the Doric bud.’97 Vitruvius says that Pytheos, Arkesios, and Hermogenes had all condemned the use of Doric for temples, in essence because of the problem of the corner triglyph; 98 and as far as we know, no Hellenistic architect adopted Vitruvius’s own solution of placing a ‘semimetope’ at the corners, beyond the triglyphs that stood over the centres of the corner columns.99 In stoas with polytriglyphal friezes, the placing of the corner triglyph was clearly not felt to be a serious difficulty. However, when the Doric order was used in L-shaped or -shaped stoas, or in closed peristyle courts, difficulties did arise in carrying the frieze around the internal angles. As Coulton has indicated,100 there would normally be no room left for corner triglyphs in such locations, if the corner spans were of the same length as the others in the series; instead, there would be metopes, or portions of metopes, on either side of the angle. Space for a complete triglyph, or for two half-triglyphs, could be obtained only by increasing the length of the spans on either side of the corner column; but in view of the normal practice of contracting angle spans, such lengthening would have been even more incongruous and unattractive

69

than having two complete metopes meeting at right angles at the corner. The possible alternative, of contracting the angle spans by the width of one metope, would also have disturbed the orderly spacing of the columns to an unacceptable degree; even in Vitruvius’s scheme, with three metopes to each normal span, the corner spans would have been reduced by about 20 per cent. Some Hellenistic architects solved the problem of the frieze, and at the same time reinforced the internal angle of the colonnade, by replacing the angle column with a composite member that consisted of two half-columns attached to adjacent faces of a square pier. Thus the free spans at the angles remained the same as elsewhere in the building; each line of columns terminated in a half-column; and since the angle spans of architrave and frieze met above the square piers, rather than above a column, there was room above the two half-columns for half of a triglyph on each side of the internal angle. Both columns and superstructure were thus carried around the corner without disturbing the normal spacing of either element. This new type of angle support, sometimes called a cordiform pier from the heart-shaped plan of the blocks, was among the most fruitful of Hellenistic innovations, even though it was never universally adopted during the Hellenistic period. The earliest example of a cordiform pier seems to occur in the L-shaped Doric Harbour Stoa at Miletos, in the late fourth century (figs. 183–4); although common in Asia Minor and Alexandria, such members were apparently never really accepted in Old Greece. Yet the cordiform pier was useful at internal angles in Ionic as well as Doric colonnades, since it allowed the traditional form of the Ionic capital to be retained, that is, with single volutes on opposite faces and the ends of the cushion under the architrave on either side of the angle. The designer of the interior of the temple at Bassai, and other Peloponnesian architects of the late fifth and early fourth centuries, had solved the problem of the Ionic corner capital by the introduction of the so-called four-cornered, or diagonal, capital, which had a pair of volutes on all four faces (or, above half-columns, a complete front face, with a half-face, having a single volute, on

70

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

each side, as at Bassai). This form of Ionic, however, was not widely accepted before the Roman period; for internal angles, at least, cordiform piers provided a solution that was visually attractive but not obtrusive. The Corinthian order, with a continuous Ionic frieze-band above

capitals in which all four faces were identically treated, posed none of the problems inherent in Doric or Ionic; thus Coulton notes that the known examples of Corinthian cordiform piers are late, and were probably used with a view to maximum decorative effect.101

4 Tombs and Commemorative Monuments Janos Fedak

Monuments of this type occupy a special place in the history of Hellenistic architecture, and display greater variety and freedom of design than longer-established types of building.1 The variety of forms came partly from new combinations of traditional structural and ornamental elements, and partly from non-Greek (Eastern) sources. The demand for more and more imposing monuments originated outside mainland Greece. Local Anatolian rulers who had close contacts with Middle Eastern customs were the first to revive hero cults. For example, magnificent tombs and heroa, which perpetuated the memory of deceased persons, were already being erected in Lykia in the fifth century; and Greek artists were employed in increasing numbers, at first only to execute the ornament on local designs, later to plan and supervise complete projects. Greek temple forms, by virtue of their simple monumentality, appealed strongly to native tastes; but in the transference from temples to tombs the designs were modified to the point of over-elaboration, at least by Attic standards. In Attica, state tombs or cenotaphs, such as the Marathon Mound, could be large in scale without elaborate architectural embellishments. The real impact of the developments in Asia Minor reached Athens and its vicinity only in the second half of the fourth century, and resulted in such structures as the Monument of Lysikrates (fig. 185) and the Kallithea tomb.2 However, further development of the imported forms was curtailed

in 316 by the sumptuary laws of Demetrios of Phaleron. The most characteristic elements of temple architecture, the columnar orders, also found their way into the design of sarcophagi. An Archaic example from Samos clearly shows the desire to ‘heroize’ and monumentalize the resting place of the deceased by the application of attached columns.3 From the mid-fourth century comes a beautiful ‘temple-type’ sarcophagus found in the royal necropolis at Sidon in Phoenicia, now in Istanbul (fig. 186).4 Ionic half-columns framed by corner pilasters, with figures of mourning women in the intercolumnar spaces, adorn the main section of the sarcophagus. Below is a podium with a frieze; above the columns a complete entablature was crowned by a gabled roof. Additional friezes along the long sides give the effect of a temple-tomb on a miniature scale. The preferred sites for monumental tombs were prominent and conspicuous outcrops of rock, and hillsides with a commanding vista over the surrounding country. By the fourth century, in part for religious reasons, high socles or podia were used to increase the elevation of the monument. Large projects might even require terracing and the addition of temenos walls.5 Large and complex heroa were a creation of the Hellenistic era, and always had an enclosed temenos. Thus visitors were invited inside the walls to participate actively in the world of the deceased hero. The Golbas ¨ ¸ ı-Trysa Heroon, of ca. 360–350, is an early example of the type, with

72

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

modest cultic provisions inside the temenos.6 The Heroon at Kalydon, laid out about 100 BC, exemplifies the mature Hellenistic complex, with numerous open and enclosed spaces and an underground burial chamber (fig. 129).7 With the passage of time loculi often replaced the earlier klinai in Hellenistic burial chambers.8 Permanence and inviolability were emphasized in the construction of tombs and heroa; false doors and windows, in addition to misleading would-be intruders, also produced the effect of eternal dwelling places. In the burial chambers, barrel vaults began to appear from the second half of the fourth century onward, especially in Macedonian (figs. 215–18), and later in Pergamene, tumuli. In Thrace and Anatolia a system of superimposed squares, with a closing slab at the top, seems to have been preferred to other methods of roofing. Many tumuli, in Hellenistic times often faced with ring-walls of stone, were supported above the burial chambers by ceilings constructed in the familiar and proven corbel technique.9 The planning and construction of a large tomb required a period of political stability and economic prosperity; even so, many such structures were never completed after the death of the initiator. Some monumental tombs may also have served a functional purpose, as landmarks for sailors and overland travellers. Nevertheless, the principal aim of the persons who commissioned such memorials was to reflect their own wealth, importance, and authority. Consequently these tombs were likely to be peculiar to royal or closed oligarchic societies. By contrast, large tholoi such as those at Delphi (figs. 187– 8) and Epidauros (figs. 189–91), though probably built as some sort of memorial, owed their existence and their architectural elaboration to their location in important sanctuaries. The decoration of both tombs and commemorative buildings was normally a carefully planned piece of propaganda. The message was conveyed by carved and painted reliefs, or by symbolic floral (rosette) or abstract (meander) designs associated with funerary rites.10 As already indicated, by the late fifth and early fourth centuries the strict rules of Classical architectural planning had begun to weaken.

Many of the modifications of traditional concepts were introduced in buildings other than temples. The first manifestations were changes in the proportions, and a limited mixing, of the orders. Because of their special function and circular ground plan, the large tholoi of the fourth century encouraged experimentation. All major examples employ some form of the Corinthian order in the interior, as a new and visually effective decoration of interior spaces. As in temples, the foundations under the weight-bearing sections were specially reinforced. Polychromy was an essential feature of both the exterior and the interior design of all the tholoi. Theodoros of Phokaia wrote a book on the Tholos at Delphi, of which he was probably the architect (figs. 187–8).11 The remains of the building stand in the central section of the narrow Marmaria terrace, the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia. Considerable light has recently been cast on the design, construction and later history of this important building, as a result of the detailed examination and measurement of the remains, between 1993 and 1996, by a team of Japanese architects led by Juko Ito.12 Massive foundations of soft poros supported the superstructure. Beneath the stylobate, 13.63 m in diameter, the inner ring of the krepis consisted of limestone blocks. Twenty Doric columns of Pentelic marble, 5.93 m high, surrounded the cella; the proportions, 6.82 lower diameters, were very slender for the early fourth century.13 To receive the lowest drum of the columns, two concentric circles were carved on every second stylobate slab, to indicate the position of the flutes and that of the anathyrosis; and the same mathematical exactness is found throughout the building. For instance, there is a remarkable correspondence between the rain gutter and members of the entablature below, a rare feature in Doric buildings. The metopes of the large exterior order, and those on the outer face of the cella wall, carried sculptured reliefs, the themes perhaps pertaining in some way to the function of the tholos.14 A large Lesbian kyma moulding, carved with water-lily leaves, decorated the bottom of the marble orthostates; this motif was probably inspired by a similar detail in the nearby Massilian Treasury.

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments In the interior of the tholos there were either nine or ten Corinthian columns, 4.8 m high, with shafts tangent to the cella wall behind. The columns stood on a socle 0.88 m high, of dark Argolic limestone. The bases and the capitals seem to be variants of the Peloponnesian type found at Bassai. The capitals were decorated with two rows of small, stiff leaves; the inner spirals and the corner volutes were linked in the form of continuous S-scrolls. Above the inner spirals, on the upper part of the bell, was a large palmette. The general effect of the design is rather mechanical and lifeless; it seems to bear the imprint of the ‘prefabricated’ concept of the entire building, as well as that of the metallic prototypes that seem to lie behind the forms of the capitals. The ceiling of the pteron had coffers of rhomboidal shape, while the ceiling of the cella, 7 m wide, consisted of a framework of wooden beams. The roof of the cella may have been raised above that of the pteron; at any rate there were two simas, or rain gutters, the curve of the smaller fitting the circle of the cella wall. The larger outer sima had a richly carved pattern of rinceaux ; these are a fourth-century Doric innovation, which was later borrowed by architects working in the Eastern Ionic tradition.15 A Doric foot of 32.2 cm seems to have been used as the unit of measurement in the Tholos. The purpose served by this relatively simple but well-executed building remains obscure. Nevertheless, its shape and decoration, and the possibility that there was a pit, or bothros, in the middle of the cella, suggest a connection with some hero cult.16 The most richly decorated Greek round building known to us is the Tholos at Epidauros (figs. 189–91), which formed the focal point of the western part of the precinct of Asklepios. Pausanias attributes the design to an architect named Polykleitos.17 To judge from the extant building inscriptions, construction started during the fourth decade of the fourth century, and probably lasted with interruptions until about 325. A slightly elevated terrace was raised for the six concentric rings of limestone foundations; the outermost ring measured 21.82 m in diameter. The three inner rings are less substantial; besides

73

supporting the floor of the cella, they formed an underground labyrinth or maze. The threestepped krepidoma carried twenty-six Doric columns, 6.88 m high. The metopes of this exterior order were carved with large symbolic phialai ; the rain gutter had richly carved rinceaux and a meander. On the inner face of the frieze course, immediately above the architrave, was another meander, one of many such designs running around the tholos. Above the orthostates the outer face of the cella wall was very slightly battered, the inner face vertical, as in the Delphi tholos. The form of the highly ornamented socle, base, and crowning mouldings of the exterior face of the wall may have been inspired by the Karyatid porch of the Athenian Erechtheion. The corresponding interior orthostate block, as well as the topmost course on the outer face of the wall, was of dark Argolic limestone; these bands provided a decorative contrast of light and dark colours, as in the Mnesiklean Propylaia at Athens. The interior was entered through a large and splendidly decorated eastern doorway; in front of the door a ramp gave access to the pteron.18 The stylobate blocks under the Attic-Ionic bases of the Corinthian interior order were again of dark limestone. In contrast to the poros of the exterior order, the Corinthian columns, 6.75 m tall, were of Pentelic marble. Each drum had twentyfour flutes, an exceptional number at Epidauros, where in general both Ionic and Corinthian columns had only twenty. The capitals (fig. 191) were carved with two superimposed rows of leaves; the central flower, inner spirals, and corner volutes left a good deal of the upper part of the bell bare. The profile of the bell formed a gentle S-curve. In the entablature of the inner order, for the first time in Greek architecture, the frieze had a cyma recta profile; kyma-profiled friezes are frequently found in later Ionic and Corinthian buildings. The unobstructed space inside the ring of Corinthian columns measured nine metres in diameter; and there was also room for an ambulatory between the interior columns and the cella walls. The floor of the central area was paved with deeply cut black and white ‘tiles’ of lozenge shape; it is the earliest known example of such a

74

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

design. A movable slab at the centre, and in all probability another in the eastern section of the circle, allowed for communication with the underground labyrinth. As in the other rotundas of the period, the method of constructing the roof remains uncertain. The most likely solution is perhaps a low conical structure supporting the heavy marble tiles and central akroterion. Coffers with carved flowers and rich border ornaments formed the ceiling of both the outer colonnade and the inner ambulatory; there were two rings of coffers above the pteron, one above the ambulatory. Inside there were paintings by the reputedly ‘pornographic’ artist Pausias, of Drunkenness drinking out of a glass bowl and of Eros with a lyre; these may have been painted on the ceiling of the central circle.19 The function of the building may have been connected with the worship of the hero-god Asklepios. It was an ‘active memorial place,’ where certain rituals were carried out as part of the healing process; the theatre, abaton, medical springs, and other facilities all served a similar purpose. It has also been suggested that the tholos was designed as a cenotaph of Asklepios. The commemorative-sepulchral nature of its architectural decoration seems to support this theory. A rare example of a peripteral round building in the Ionic order is the Philippeion at Olympia (figs. 192–3). Pausanias tells us that the structure was erected shortly after the victory of Philip II over the Greeks near Chaironeia in 338.20 The double ring of the foundations, in the northwestern corner of the Altis, was sunk into the former alluvial plain of the Kladeos. The outer ring, 2.33 m wide, consisted of three courses of ashlar blocks, and measured 15.45 m in diameter; the inner ring that supported the cella wall was 1.22 m wide, and set at a higher level, with only two courses of blocks. The bottom of the risers of the three-step krepidoma was carefully decorated with three bands of drafting. Every second slab of the stylobate supported an Ionic column; the height of the columns is calculated at 6.4 m, or about ten times the lower diameter. The bases consisted of a square plinth below a torus and a scotia, a form paralleled in some of the rock-cut tombs of Asia Minor.

The limestone shafts had a slight entasis, and followed the Attic-Asiatic tradition of twentyfour flutes, instead of the Peloponnesian norm of twenty. The Ionic capitals distantly echoed those of the North Porch of the Erechtheion, but were essentially Hellenistic in proportion, like the rest of the building.21 The entablature represents a clear break with tradition: an architrave with only two fasciae, of equal height, and a slightly concave friezecourse combined with dentils. Unusual also was the cyma reversa hawksbeak crown of the Ionic geison. As in the Vitruvian canon, the pteron took up one-fifth of the total diameter of the building. Above the toichobate, the cella walls started with orthostates crowned by a high stringcourse. On the inner face of the wall, starting 1.65 m above the floor, were nine engaged Corinthian columns; the capitals were related to the Tegean and Nemean ‘leafy’ types, although the Philippeion capitals were much more slender. Beneath the conical roof there was a horizontal painted ceiling of wood. The coffers of the pteron were supported by a low entablature, resembling in technical execution those of the tholoi at Delphi and Epidauros. The interior, some seven metres in diameter, may have had windows flanking the doorway, which perhaps faced south. Opposite the entrance, on a high semicircular pedestal, stood gold and ivory statues of members of the Macedonian royal house, the work of Leochares.22 The circular form chosen for this building had a long tradition in funerary architecture, occurring, for example, in Mycenaean tholoi and various other tumulustombs. Moreover, the presence of statues of deceased members of the royal family indicates that the structure was a memorial building. Like cenotaphs and heroa, it perpetuated, and even immortalized, the memory of the dead rulers. The architect, if not himself a Macedonian, was at least familiar with Macedonian developments. The eclectic character of the building, utilizing Doric and Ionic elements from different areas of the Greek world, seems to belong to the formative period of Macedonian monumental architecture in the second half of the fourth century. The use of engaged columns on a high socle, the double fascia of the architrave, the type

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments of Ionic capital employed, the extensive use of stucco on the walls and columns, and the choice of materials, with only a limited use of marble, are all features that recur in later Macedonian architecture.23 Perhaps the Philippeion was simply an early product of the growing architectural awareness of the Macedonians; in that event, it may be compared with Persian architectural designs of two centuries before. Of the many monuments that once lined the Street of the Tripods in Athens, the only one still standing is the choragic monument of Lysikrates(fig. 185).24 It was erected to commemorate the victory of a boys’ choir sponsored by Lysikrates, one of the three hundred richest men in Athenian society at the time. In elevation it follows the pattern of the podium-tombs of Asia Minor. Above a euthynteria, and a two-stepped socle on the low eastern side that faced the Street of the Tripods, rises a podium 2.9 m square, crowned by a cornice. The upper storey is a tholos with its own circular platform of three steps, the lowest measuring 3.28 m in diameter, the uppermost reduced to a moulded stylobate course consisting of a taenia and scotia.25 The six Corinthian columns were connected by curved stone slabs, except in the slightly widened span on the eastern face, which seems to have been left open.26 The addition of the curved panels created a pseudoperipteral effect. The monument is the first known instance of the Corinthian order employed on the exterior of a Greek building. The top section of the intercolumnar panels has tripods in low relief; the arrangement vaguely recalls the compartmental design of the early fifth-century Olympieion at Akragas. The intercolumnar spaces between the monolithic shafts have a standard width of 1.11 m, with the western interval slightly narrower, the eastern slightly wider.27 The shafts are peculiar in Attica in having twenty flutes instead of the customary twenty-four. On the other hand, the bases are Attic-Ionic, though with a very low upper torus, while the capitals represent one of the many individual versions of Corinthian of the fourth century. The elongated bells, ca. 0.5 m high and 0.28 m wide, are evenly divided between the leaf pattern in the lower section and the volutes and spirals in the upper.

75

Artistically, these capitals seem to have been influenced by contemporary stele decorations, as well as by metallic prototypes. On the interior the capitals are only roughly blocked out, indicating that the filler panels were added during construction, rather than after the monument had been completed. The entablature was Ionic, with dentils above the frieze-course, as in the Philippeion; in this respect the two buildings are unique in their period. However, at Olympia the frieze was left plain or painted in a solid colour, whereas the Athenian building has relief sculptures depicting Dionysos defeating the pirates and turning them into dolphins. The roof was carved out of a single block of marble decorated with three scrolls and a central finial, which in turn supported other, but now lost, decorative elements. Two concentric rows of antefixes line the edges of the roof, a solution reminiscent of the fifthcentury tholos in the Athenian agora and the tholos at Delphi. There was a dedicatory inscription marking the main, or eastern, side, and giving the exact date of construction (335/334). The choice of materials, yellowish limestone for the podium, blue Hymettan marble for the crowning moulding and the intercolumnar panels, and white Pentelic for the rest of the building, added further to the lavish ornamental effect of this commemorative structure. The existence and popularity of similar monuments is attested by remains in Athens and elsewhere, and by numerous wall paintings of later periods. The Arsinoeion in the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace is the largest known roofed circular interior of Greek times (figs. 194–7); it was built toward the end of the first quarter of the third century.28 Although in some respects less richly ornamental than the Philippeion at Olympia or the Epidaurian Tholos (figs. 189–91), it nevertheless had its own unique features. In the architectural design function clearly dictated form. A ring of huge limestone blocks, 2.55 m thick, provided a strong foundation for the superstructure; the circumference measured more than sixty metres. Above the broad, low steps of the krepidoma, an orthostate course with a moulded base and crowning moulding provided

76

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

a high dado on the exterior. Next followed a plain drum of Thasian marble in isodomic ashlar. This high cylindrical wall was crowned by an anthemion and Lesbian kyma decoration, which was repeated on the interior face of the wall.29 Above the drum stood a ‘gallery’ with forty-four pillars, each 2.85 m high. The lower portion of the interspaces was filled by decorative parapets with reliefs of two bucrania enclosing a large rosette; above these were plain panels, somewhat like the arrangement employed over half a century earlier in the Lysikrates Monument at Athens.30 A Doric entablature of relatively large scale surmounted the pilasters; the architect designed this section to harmonize with the scale of the entire building, rather than merely with the pilasters of the exterior ‘gallery.’ It used to be suggested that on the inner face of the wall a bench ran around the perimeter of the interior, and was used either for seating or to support statues; this theory, however, has now been discarded.31 The lower part of the wall has sometimes been thought to have had painted geometric stucco decoration imitating marble incrustation, of the type found in Hellenistic houses on Delos. The interior ‘gallery,’ on a level with that of the exterior, had Corinthian half-columns engaged in the inner faces of the piers (figs. 196–7). In profile, the bases resemble those of the Philippeion; but below the circular scotia and torus the bases of the Arsinoeion have plain discs in place of the square plinths of the Philippeion.32 The capitals, though of rather mediocre workmanship, are the earliest known examples that approach the ‘normal’ Corinthian of the second century, for instance, as found in the Olympieion at Athens.33 The low parapets between the half-columns had paired bucrania and patera-shaped embellishments; and an Ionic entablature crowned the composition.34 As in most of the large-scale circular structures, the reconstruction of the roof is problematic. A tent-like structure of converging beams would probably have served best. The American excavators now suggest that the lower outer ends of these beams rested in a wooden ‘tension ring’ set against the inner face of the backers of the Doric frieze; the upper ends of the beams must have been secured by a ‘compression ring’

of bronze. The roof was covered by scale-shaped tiles that decreased in size toward the centre.35 In Roman Imperial times the reconstructed roof was crowned by a finial with decorative carving of laurel leaves; 36 no remains of the Hellenistic finial have been found. An inscription placed over the doorway would give a reliable date for the building if it were complete; unfortunately a crucial portion is missing. The preserved portion reads: BASILISSAAR[ SINOHBASILEVSPTOLE ] MAIOUYUGATHR || BASILEVS [ . . . . . . . . . ] GU [ NH ] MEGALOISYEOIS (‘Queen Ar[sinoe of King Ptole]my daughter||of King [. . . . . . . . .] wi[fe] to the Great Gods’). Since the time of Wilamowitz scholars have generally assumed that the second king was Lysimachos, and that the Arsinoeion must have been erected while Arsinoe was married to him, i.e., before his death in 281. Roux, however, has argued, convincingly in my view, in favour of the original Austrian restoration ‘of King [Ptolemy] wi[fe],’ that is, for a date for the building ca. 275, after Arsinoe had returned to Alexandria and become the wife of her brother Ptolemy II.37 Outside the doorway, on the right as one entered, was found a bothros, or pit.38 The shape of the building (that of a thymele), the commemorative and sacrificial nature of the reliefs, and the lack of a paved floor, all indicate a ritual place with chthonic associations. Architecturally, the plans of fourth-century round buildings, with outer colonnades, cella-wall and inner ring of columns, were here compressed into a single vertical plane, thus creating a more spacious interior. The design on the whole seems to have been a ‘built’ forerunner of the later poured concrete mausolea and other circular buildings of Roman times, such as the Pantheon at Rome. Following the conquest of Lykia by Harpagos in 546,39 Xanthos, along with the other Lykian cities, came under Persian domination. Soon afterwards a new architectural style, peculiar to the region, evolved in this heavily wooded and mountainous district of Asia Minor. This style combined the native tradition of timber construction with Persian and Ionic influences. There is hardly any evidence of strong impact of Attic and Peloponnesian forms and decoration before the second half of the fifth

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments century. Most of the earlier pillar-tombs and ‘sarcophagus-houses’ were built for the Lykian nobility, on conspicuous sites dominating the surrounding countryside. These tombs were elevated on stepped bases, recalling the tomb of Cyrus at Pasargadai, or else had an elaborate built platform, like that of Heroon G at Xanthos.40 The decoration of this latter structure, which can be dated just before the middle of the fifth century, also included sculptured friezes and freestanding statues. The Nereid Monument at Xanthos, the facade of which has been reconstructed in the British Museum (fig. 56), was designed in accordance with Lykio-Persian customs, but clearly under Greek influence. The monument stood on a rocky hillside about two hundred metres southeast of the acropolis of Xanthos. It was set in a walled enclosure, and rose to a height of about 13.5 m.41 The lower part of the rectangular podium, measuring 6.80 × 10.17 m, consisted of limestone blocks, above which were three courses of marble; the upper two courses were carved with sculptured friezes. On the large lower frieze were generalized scenes of combat, reminiscent of Greek Amazonomachies. The smaller upper band depicted the siege and surrender of a city. A meticulously carved astragal, a double row of egg-and-dart, and a plain narrow band formed the crown of the high podium. In the interior of the podium, almost three metres above ground level, was a rectangular chamber, accessible by way of a ramp leading from the paved platform on the northern side of the tomb.42 Above the podium stood a small peripteral Ionic temple, purely Greek in concept, in contrast to the high tower-like lower portion of the monument. There were four columns on the shorter east and west facades, six along the north and south sides. The columns were 3.04 m tall, with monolithic shafts; the height was eight times the lower diameter. The capitals imitated, though in a simplified form, those of the Athenian Erechtheion, while the bases were of Eastern Ionic inspiration (a double scotia topped by a torus, but lacking the Eastern plinth). The four-cornered, or diagonal, corner capitals are among the earliest known examples of the type.43

77

Nereids, or more likely Aurae (Sea Breezes), stood in the intercolumnar spaces, and gave a certain flamboyance to the otherwise conventional Ionic framework; 44 this monument provides the earliest known example of statues set between the exterior columns of a building. The ‘cella’ within the peristyle of this upper structure contained four klinai (beds), placed in pairs along the longer walls. Doorways gave access to the cella from the porches (‘pronaos’ and ‘opisthodomos’). The elaborately carved door lintels, framed by consoles, again illustrate the influence of the Erechtheion. The necks of the anta-capitals had rosettes in relief, a widely used motif on the later rock-cut tombs of Asia Minor. The outer face of the cella walls was crowned by a decorative frieze, representing funerary themes such as banquets, sacrifices, and offerings. The ceiling of the pteron and the naos consisted of three different sizes of marble coffers, decorated with floral and figure designs. On the architrave was carved a fourth frieze, showing hunting scenes; above this frieze was a row of large dentils, surmounted by a cornice and a lion-head sima. The gabled roof had an unusually heavy covering of stone tiles. The west pediment contained a schematized scene of combat between horsemen and foot soldiers; in the east pediment the dynastic couple were shown seated among their attendants. Large figured akroteria crowned the gables. As symbolic guardians of the tomb, lions and sphinxes were also included in the ornamental scheme, but their place in the overall design is uncertain. The visual impression made by the monument, as reassembled in the British Museum, is quite heterogeneous. The artists who worked on this tomb were obviously familiar with the architecture both of the Ionian coast and of the Greek mainland; in particular, they had a firsthand acquaintance with Classical Athenian monuments, such as the Nike and Ilissos temples and the Erechtheion. Nevertheless, here on Lykian soil the established Greek temple form underwent a considerable change. The adapting of the temple to serve as a tomb involved a good deal of modification, as a result of which only the ‘distorted’ outlines of an Ionic temple remained. The notion of constructing a tower-like sepulchral

78

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

monument, which at the same time served as a commemorative trophy, was Perso-Lykian. The technical details of the building also display a mixture of indigenous Lykian and imported Greek traditions. In the limestone foundation the Lykian system of jointing was employed, except for the two top courses, where H-clamps of Greek type were used. The door structures of the cella were Lykian, but the decoration was Greek. Furthermore, the sima on the north flank was Lykian in shape, that on the south Greek. The stone-working technique shows Ionian, and perhaps Lydian, influences; thus in course BW, still in situ, the edges of the ashlar blocks are slightly bevelled where they meet. The perimeter of each block has a smooth margin enclosing the rusticated central panel.45 Such combinations indicate the mixed background of the artists and artisans who worked on the monument; yet in all likelihood it was built for a member of the local aristocracy.46 The tomb should probably be dated to the early years of the fourth century.47 The Nereid Monument has been described in detail because it is our earliest example of a new type of tomb that in subsequent centuries became very popular in Asia Minor and elsewhere. One of the first of the series of later large-scale tombs was the Heroon at Limyra, also in Lykian territory (fig. 198).48 This building, discovered in 1966, stood on a rocky terrace just below the acropolis of Limyra, and commanded a spectacular view of the surrounding region. The rectangular building, 6.8 × 10.4 m, was set within an ample rock-cut temenos, intended for cultic purposes. A podium containing the hyposorion formed the substructure for the amphiprostyle upper storey. On each end of the monument four karyatids served as supports for the entablature. These heavy-set female figures stood on circular pedestals; unlike their counterparts on the Athenian Acropolis, they held cultic objects in their hands.49 The third course of the cella walls on the west and east sides carried painted friezes representing the heroic deeds of the deceased. The architrave was decorated with a row of carved rosettes, a common ornamental motif in funerary art. The pediments were surmounted by elaborate sculptured akroteria. As a measure of economy, both the architectural and the sculptural

members were executed in local stone, quarried in the course of preparing the ground for the Heroon. The complex may have been the trophytomb of the Lykian dynast Perikles, who died during the Satraps’ Revolt of 362/360.50 The largest and most magnificent tomb of the fourth century was undoubtedly the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos (figs. 199–201); and none of its Greek successors surpassed it, either in scale or in reputation.51 The city of Halikarnassos, Herodotos’s birthplace, became the centre of Karian power under the dynast Mausollos (377–353), who spared no expense in refounding this coastal town as his new capital.52 Unfortunately, very little has survived either of his tomb or of his palace; these were probably the two most splendid buildings of the entire city. During the sixteenth century the Castle of St Peter was erected on the site of the palace, with materials reused from the Mausoleum. The site of the tomb was rediscovered in 1856, then excavated by C.T. Newton.53 Since that time numerous restorations of the Mausoleum have been proposed, relying partly on the results of Newton’s excavation and partly on the descriptions of ancient writers. The Danish campaign of excavation, started in 1970 under the leadership of K. Jeppesen, has cast much new light on the structure and history of the building; and the three decades of study devoted to the building by Jeppesen have solved many of the problems involved in trying to interpret the descriptions of Vitruvius and the Elder Pliny in the light of Newton’s account of his excavations.54 Vitruvius aptly described the location of the Mausoleum as being in the middle of the praecinctio (i.e., the horizontal walk dividing the lower from the upper part of the auditorium – the diazoma in Greek terminology) of a natural theatre,55 formed by the curved and gradually rising terrain around the harbour of Halikarnassos. A section of an earlier necropolis was utilized for the new tomb; the soft rock was recut for the base of the building (32.4 × 38 m). The temenos was paved with large blocks of green volcanic stone, except for the white marble floor of the burial site, which was located in the northwestern section of the enclosure. The tomb chamber was directly connected, through a vestibule

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments and a short dromos, with the wide western staircase. A huge ‘plug-block,’ evidently pried into position from the side, closed the entrance to the complex. All the architectural embellishments of the chamber have disappeared, but a sixteenthcentury description suggests that its interior was lavishly decorated.56 To relieve the weight over the tomb chamber, the architect probably relied on the proven system of corbel vaulting, which had been widely employed in funerary architecture since Mycenaean times.57 Another rock-cut, but smaller, staircase was set obliquely to the southeastern part of the complex. It faced the south side of the tomb chamber, and carried cuttings for offering vases. A unique and extensive system of drainage channels surrounded the entire foundation cutting, and there were regularly spaced pillars along the north and south sides. The latter may have served to support the lifting machines employed during the construction of the edifice, though Jeppesen has suggested more recently that the tops of the pillars perhaps indicated at ground level the spacing of the columns along the north and south sides of the peristyle that stood above the podium.58 There is little or no direct information concerning the podium of the Mausoleum. However, the vague reference in Vitruvius may refer to the podium: ‘For on the several elevations (or “fronts” or “facades” – possibly indicating a stepped socle?) different rival craftsmen took their share in the decorations wherein they competed.’59 Martial describes the Mausoleum as ‘hanging in vacant air.’60 In speaking of the dismantling of the remains, Guichard’s account states that ‘the deeper they went the more the structure was enlarged at its base’; this passage must refer to some peculiarity of the high socle.61 Other literary sources emphasize that the Mausoleum was one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world, mainly, according to the Elder Pliny, because of the sculptural embellishments.62 The large number of sculptural fragments found on the site seems to support this view; the scale of these figures ranges from lifesize to colossal; 63 a certain number of the free-standing figures must have been placed at different levels of the high podium (figs. 200, 201).64 According to the Danish archaeologists, this section was built

79

of blue limestone, and had a two-stepped socle, with parapets along the front of each step, and rows of free-standing sculpture stepped back one above and behind the other. The sculptures included both groups and single figures. The figures on the lower step were of colossal size, like the familiar ‘Mausollos’ figure, some three metres tall, now in the British Museum; those in the upper range were life-size.65 Next followed a marble-faced wall, crowned on all four sides by a frieze, representing the traditional theme of an Amazonomachy.66 The thirty-six columns of the Ionic peristyle above the podium must have been set out in a 9 × 11 scheme.67 Jeppesen has determined that the intercolumnar spans on the short sides, as well as the spans at each end of each long side, must have been wider than the eight intermediate spans on the long sides.68 Blue plinths supported white marble bases of Asiatic-Ionic profile. The column-shafts were 1.1 m in diameter at the base, and had twenty-four flutes.69 The capitals conformed to the mid-fourth-century type. There is no evidence for a frieze-course between the architrave and the dentils; the crowning moulding of the former, an astragal under an egg-and-dart, provided the transition. Some at least of the freestanding sculptures probably stood in the wide (ca. 3 m) intercolumnar spaces, doubtless following such models as the Nereid Monument, the Limyra Heroon, and the Sarcophagus of the Mourning Women. Above the sima, and slightly set back from the edge, were groups of opposed lions. If the arrangement of the later Belevi Mausoleum (figs. 205–7) is any indication, these lions faced ornamental motifs, while the four corners carried sculptured figure acroteria.70 The crowning slabs of the coffers of the pteron ceiling were sculptured, providing an early example of this kind of ornament.71 The description of the uppermost portion of the tomb in the manuscripts of the Elder Pliny is fairly explicit, without being precise: ‘[A]bove the pteron there is a pyramid, equal in height to the lower part [i.e., presumably the colonnade], contracting by twenty-four steps to the summit . . . At the top of all is a marble chariot with four horses.’72 Jeppesen has now proposed convincing emendations of the puzzling parts

80

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

of Pliny’s text.73 It can be assumed that in the chariot stood at least one figure, that of Mausollos himself.74 The Centaur frieze, of which only a small number of badly weathered fragments have survived, is thought to have decorated the pedestal on which the four-horse chariot stood.75 Jeppesen rejects the often-held notion of a cella inside the peristyle; he contends, reasonably enough, that no conceivable method of roofing such a cella would have been capable of supporting the weight and outward thrust of the crowning pyramid and the chariot group on its pedestal.76 Because of the good state of preservation of its surface, the chariot frieze, made of fine-grained white marble, must have been in a part of the building that was protected from the weather; it was therefore probably mounted at the top of the back wall of the colonnade, apparently only on the two short sides.77 Jeppesen suggests that the back wall of the colonnade stepped back to provide a podium on which additional sculptured figures were mounted; he also raises the possibility of the placing of additional lions part way up the crowning stepped pyramid.78 The artists employed to execute all these sculptures were among the most famous of the time. Pliny indicates that Skopas worked on the east, Bryaxis on the north, Timotheos on the south, and Leochares on the west side. Pliny’s use of the verb caelavit suggests that the four sculptors worked only on the reliefs, but the large number of free-standing figures must surely also have been the work of outstanding artists.79 In addition to the work of the above artists, Pytheos made the marble quadriga and, in co-operation with Satyros of Paros, published a study of the Mausoleum; he is generally assumed to have been the architect of the whole building.80 In determining the measurements and the numerical relationship of the component parts of the tomb students are faced with the question of the unit of measure employed. According to the Danish excavators, a foot-unit of 32 cm comes closest to Pliny’s dimensions; however, a unit of 30 cm also played an important part in the design.81 In 1976 Jeppesen suggested that the total height of the tomb reached 180 Greek feet (57.6 m), and that the circumference of 411 feet recorded in some sources was an error for 400

feet (128 m); 82 previously, scholars had generally accepted a reading of Pliny indicating 140 ft for the height, 440 ft for the circumference. In 1996, however, W. Hoepfner proposed a new restoration of the tomb, adhering more closely to the received text of Pliny with respect to the ‘circumference’ (440 ft) and height (140 ft). Hoepfner suggested that the podium was three-stepped, without any rows of sculptured figures at the bottom, that it measured 100 Greek feet on the short sides, and that the three vertical divisions (podium, colonnaded section, and pyramid-pluschariot group) were all of equal height (46 2/3 ft), the total height being thus 140 Greek feet. He revived Cockerell’s proposal of a dipteral second storey, and placed the colossal free-standing figures between the outer columns and on a high podium projecting from the outer faces of the cella walls, which were further adorned with members terminating in leaf-capitals.83 Further study of the remains and of the text of Pliny has convinced Jeppesen that the alternate readings of the MSS of Pliny, giving 140 feet for the height (exclusive, however, of the chariot-group) and 440 feet for the circumference, should be accepted.84 An extensive peribolos wall surrounded the Mausoleum terrace, which measured 105 × 242.5 m. The enclosure was entered by a propylon in the eastern wall. This entranceway was left unfinished ca. 340, when the work on the tomb itself stopped. By this time both the political and the economic conditions had become unfavourable for the completion of the project. Mausollos, who must have commenced the grandiose scheme well before the end of his life, died in 353, when building activity was at its height. However, his wife Artemisia carried on the task until her own death two years later, in 351. Thereafter construction continued with interruptions until it ceased about a decade later. Because of its size and prominent position the Mausoleum not only dominated the city, but its gleaming marble also served as a familiar landmark for sailors. It was a monumental undertaking on the part of a local ruler, designed to win him immortality. Here the earlier Asia Minor tradition of commemorative buildings and sepulchral monuments was developed into an im-

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments posing, even awe-inspiring, hero-tomb.85 The unusual height of the tomb itself, the excellence and variety of the sculptures (an almost Gothic combination), and the well-planned landscape design made the complex a source of inspiration for many later monuments. These included tombs, memorial buildings, lighthouses, and altars (the last group in respect of the decorative bands of sculpture running around the high basement-storey). A number of commemorative tomb-structures used a large-scale lion as their epithema, or crowning element. Even if lions were rarely seen by the Greeks, the symbolic value of the king of beasts must have been well known to them. Some of these monuments, for instance, those at Thespiai, Chaironeia, and Amphipolis, employed the seated type, while the largest of them, the Lion Tomb at Knidos, had a reclining lion on top. The nature of their designs and the evidence of the Chaironeia and Knidos examples indicate that they were erected to honour a number of heroes rather than a single individual. The limestone core of the Lion Tomb at Knidos still stands to about six metres, approximately a third of its original height (figs. 202–3).86 The rocky ground was carefully levelled to receive the foundation courses. The square lower part of the tomb, measuring over 12 m per side, consisted of a three-stepped krepis and socle executed in a fine ‘bossiert’ style of masonry. Four engaged Doric columns, ca. 5.5 lower diameters in height, adorned each side of the massive middle section of the building. According to the excavators, there were three triglyphs above the central intercolumniation, two above the lateral spans, with a complete triglyph at the corners. The arrangement of three triglyphs in the central interval is analogous to the recently excavated Doric Portico of Knidos, perhaps of the late fourth or early third century.87 Probably, however, all later examples of widened central spans in Doric ultimately derive from fifth-century Athenian monuments such as the Mnesiklean Propylaia and the Stoa of Zeus in the Athenian Agora.88 The width of the metopes of the Lion Tomb varied; the entablature terminated in a plain lion-head sima, only roughly blocked out. To support the crowning lion figure and its hollow rectangular pedestal, an oblong stepped

81

pyramid was erected above the lower storey; the sides and bottom of each block of the risers was decorated with a band of drafting. Inside there was a circular ‘beehive-shaped’ chamber, built of ‘concentric horizontal courses, overhanging each other so as gradually to converge to an apex.’89 A huge circular keystone-slab, trapezoidal in section, closed the top of the beehive.90 Immediately above the paved floor the walls were pierced by eleven radiating loculi ; these rectangular burial niches extended right out to the external marble facing. A larger opening on the north side served as the doorway.91 No architectural decorations were found, except for a broken relief shield, which in all probability stood in the central intercolumniation above the doorway.92 In addition to the limestone already mentioned, greyish marble with purple and yellowish patches was employed for the external walls. The lion was of Pentelic marble, possibly indicating Attic connections for the monument. The structure was surrounded by an extensive walled temenos, a customary feature of most tombs of the heroon type. Traces of the enclosing wall are still visible on the north and west sides. The entire complex was located on the tip of a projecting peninsula about 4 km east of Knidos. Because of its prominent site overlooking the sea, it must have been a familiar landmark to mariners. Remains of other elevated sepulchral structures, similar in character to the Lion Tomb, are to be found along the ancient road leading east from Knidos.93 Most of them must have been built within the general period of the Lion Tomb, when such pyramidal constructions were in vogue. In the absence of inscriptions and small finds (except for a small vase, of the shape known as a lagynos, found outside the doorway), there is no firm basis for dating the Lion Tomb.94 Many of its architectural embellishments were left uncarved. However, its overall design connects it with the Halikarnassos Mausoleum and its successors in the same region. The solution for roofing the interior chamber, reminiscent of Mycenaean beehive tombs, is rather oldfashioned, although it was still in use in Hellenistic times; 95 but it is also comparable with

82

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

roughly contemporary corbelled constructions on the Lelegian peninsula, at Gebe Kilisse and Asarlık, and perhaps even with the burial chamber of Mausollos’ tomb.96 Loculi are found in the late fourth century in the Charmyleion on Kos and in the Hellenistic Heroon at Miletos.97 Representations of lions are often seen on Knidian coins from the Archaic period onward. However, by the end of the fourth or the early third century the heads of the lions seem to have lost their earlier ferocious appearance; this new ‘tame’ fashion agrees with that of our reclining lion.98 Knidos apparently enjoyed an upsurge of artistic activity in the second half of the fourth century, after the establishment, or at least enlarging, of the city at the end of the peninsula.99 During this period the Knidians acquired a number of works of art created by famous Attic artists.100 Thus it would not be surprising if this Dorian city had employed an architect with a mixed architectural background; besides being familiar with developments in Attica and Asia Minor, he must also have had a first-hand knowledge of Macedonian architecture. Macedonian Doric architecture is of excellent quality, and engaged columns resting on a socle often appear in its designs.101 The Lion Tomb used to be associated with Konon’s naval victory over the Spartans off the Knidian coast in 394. However, a date in the late fourth or early third century now seems far more plausible. A similar concept of design was employed at the less well-preserved Lion Tomb at Amphipolis (fig. 204), which presumably belongs to the same era.102 Among their successors in Asia Minor are the early Doric constructions of Pergamon, the even more advanced buildings of the second century at Miletos (e.g., the Bouleuterion), and the still later Heroon at Ta Marmara near Didyma (fig. 213).103 The ruins of the Belevi Mausoleum are located about 14 km inland from Ephesos (figs. 205–7).104 The monument stands at the foot of a sloping hillside overlooking a fertile plain. In contrast to the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos, where the rock surface was hollowed out to receive the foundation courses, at Belevi the living rock was artificially shaped to provide a core for the high basement.105 In other respects, how-

ever, the main outlines of the Belevi tomb clearly followed the tradition of the tomb of Mausollos. The ground plan was square; each side measured some 29.65 m, suggesting a length of 100 feet of 0.2965 m. Above the euthynteria a threestepped krepidoma supported the base mouldings, consisting of a plain socle surmounted by torus, cavetto, and Lesbian kyma. This was followed by ten courses of large, neatly cut ashlars, 69–88 cm high, which constituted the facing for the podium, the total height of which was 11.37 m. A low architrave, 45 cm high, and a substantially higher Doric frieze (67 cm), ran around the top of the podium. Along the south side a deep recess was cut into the rock core for the burial chamber, which was placed offcentre and sealed from the outside, in order to conceal its existence. The actual chamber, consisting of a small vestibule and a rectangular back room for the kline-sarcophagus, was barrelvaulted. The north side of the structure had an unfinished false door. The second storey again started with a threestepped krepidoma, 1.12 m high, the top step serving as the stylobate for a Corinthian peristasis, with eight columns per side (fig. 207).106 The Attic-Ionic column-bases rested on plinths, as at Langaza in Macedonia and in the largest of the rock-cut tombs at Telmessos.107 In the superstructure the architrave, with three fasciae, was crowned by a moulding of egg-and-dart above an astragal. Next came a taenia, then a palmetteand-lotus frieze and a dentil course; the dentils in turn were topped by a Lesbian kyma and a plain sima with lion-head waterspouts.108 The total height of the superstructure was 1.7 m. The excavators of the tomb restored on each side, around the edge of the roof, groups of antithetic lion-griffin figures facing large stone vases; pairs of horses were placed at the corners. Little or no archaeological evidence is left for the reconstruction of the cella and the roof. The latter in all probability resembled Halikarnassos in having a stepped pyramid with a crowning finial on top.109 The surviving traces of the ground plan of the cella indicate that its interior walls may have had attached pilasters not unlike those of the adytonwalls of the Hellenistic Didymaion.110 Some of

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments the blocks belonging to the architrave of this inner order bore inscriptions: HLIADES, Z]EUS, FA[EDVN(?), A]FR[ODITH(?).111 Perhaps to the same section of the edifice can be assigned some fragments of a small-scale palm-leaf capital and fluted Doric drum fragments; these could be parts of a two-tiered decorative scheme on the interior. The ceiling of the pteron was embellished with large coffers, in a rather baroque manner. The panels of the principal north side represented funerary games while the reliefs of the other sides dealt with a Centauromachy.112 The sculptural finds inside the burial chamber included a large unfinished sarcophagus, with a reclining figure on top, and a standing statue of an oriental servant. The existence of over-lifesize figures is indicated by fragments found around the site. Both sculptures and architectural members still bear extensive remains of their painted finish; frequently painting replaced carving on the architectural mouldings, a practice reminiscent of Macedonian architecture. An estimated 2500 cubic metres of marble was extracted from the quarries of the neighbourhood for the building of the tomb. If the monument was ever completed, it must have reached a height of about 35 m. The identity of the person who commissioned this tomb, as well as the date of its construction, are still unsolved problems. The unfinished architectural members indicate that work ceased rather suddenly, so that we can see the different stages in the progress of the work. The high square podium with the pyramid on top is non-Greek. Oriental influence is even stronger in some of the sculptural decoration, such as the statue of the servant and the schematic liongriffin figures and vases. The execution of the tomb chamber is Macedonian in every respect. The combination of different orders on the exterior appeared elsewhere about the same time, for instance, in the Great Tomb at Lefkadhia (figs. 217–18) and the Propylon of Ptolemy on Samothrace (figs. 133–5).113 The extremely decorative character of the tomb was not unusual in funerary architecture from the time of the Nereid Monument onwards. The form of the capitals and the profiles of the mouldings find their closest parallels in structures of the first half of the third century, such as the Rotunda of Arsi-

83

noe on Samothrace (figs. 194–7), contemporary buildings at Miletos, the Athena temple at Ilion, and also in the new Naiskos at Didyma, which, however, was probably not completed before the third quarter of the third century.114 Ultimately the decorative forms go back to the fourthcentury temple of Athena at Priene; but the particular shapes became harder and less lively, as in the third-century temple of Zeus in the same city. On the other hand, some of the strictly technical details, such as the clamps and dowel-holes, continue unchanged from the Athena temple.115 To make matters even more difficult, there is no uniformity in the corresponding details at Belevi. For example, the row of frieze blocks of the Corinthian order and the Lesbian kyma decoration show variations in the carving. Some sections are still executed in the late fourth-century manner, while others are more stiff and shallow. Perhaps there were two or more periods of construction; the strongest indication of this possibility is given by a number of coffer-panels that resemble reliefs from the early secondcentury Hekataion at Lagina.116 Otherwise, the Belevi Mausoleum seems to belong to the first half or the middle years of the third century. Presumably it was begun as the tomb of a king. In the choice of site, the proximity of the great tumulus, probably also of royal origin but of an earlier period,117 must have been a decisive factor. The design, the preparation of the ground, and the building itself required years of work, and could not have been done in a state of emergency or on the spur of the moment. The order to erect this huge hero-tomb perhaps came from the reorganizer of the nearby city of Ephesos, Lysimachos himself, although some scholars favour the original association with Antiochos II, who died at Ephesos in 246.118 The influence of this tomb in the Hellenistic world seems to have been widespread. Such monuments as the ‘Tomba Ildebranda’ in Etruria (fig. 376), the so-called Tomb of the Ptolemies on Rhodes, and the tower-tomb at Ptolemais in North Africa are all directly or indirectly related to the Belevi Mausoleum.119 Even in faraway Bactria, the 6 × 10-column peristyle of the Ionic mausoleum at Ai Khanum, on the ancient Oxos river (modern Amu Darya), may ultimately have

84

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

been inspired by the monuments at Halikarnassos and Belevi, although the design seems more directly related to Hellenistic temples.120 The Charmyleion (figs. 209–10), a product of Ionian provincial architecture, mixed with some Doric elements, stands on the outskirts of the village of Pyli, on the island of Kos.121 It belongs to the series of monumental tombs built in the wake of the Mausoleum and its predecessors. An inscription found nearby, originally from some part of the edifice, identifies its owners as the family of Charmylos, who lived around 300. The design of the Charmyleion is peculiar, since only the frontal aspect of the building is stressed. Sides and back were devoid of any architectural embellishments. The Heroon consisted of three levels, of which the lowest was underground. This crypt was approached from above by steps forming a short dromos. A wide, shallow antechamber gave access to the vaulted burial chamber, 5.58 m long. Along the west and east walls of this vaulted space were six thekai, each 2.45 m deep. This arrangement for burial in the basement is comparable in a general way with that of the Lion Tomb at Knidos, and especially with the Heroon on the Theatre Hill at Miletos.122 These loculi were closed by large slabs, depicting in relief the short ends of a funeral kline, with a tympanon above. Above the basement the narrow podium running along the north, or main, facade of the building was broken by two symmetrically placed staircases leading up to doorways. The lintel of each door was topped by slightly projecting Ionic decorations, consisting of an egg-and-dart above a hanging palmette, cyma reversa, and astragal, with consoles closing the ends. The horizontal relief bands of each door-leaf were carved with rosettes, such as are found in Macedonian and Asia Minor examples. Behind this facade, which measured 9.5 m in width, there were two identical rooms, their floors supported on six parallel rows of poros blocks running north–south above the vaulted basement, not unlike the joists below a stage floor. This arrangement seems to have been designed mainly to bring the floor level to the required height. This rather plain first storey terminated in an Ionic kyma.

The second storey was visually lighter and more open, and was enlivened by corner pilasters and by two Ionic columns in antis in front of a rectangular aedicula. The upper section of the wall of this centrally placed cult room,123 and the necks of the engaged pilasters, are carved with a row of rosettes. The acanthus foliage of the pilaster capitals and the Lesbian kyma of their bases both indicate a close stylistic relationship with Didyma, Priene, and Belevi. In the centre of the facade the friezeless entablature was crowned by a ‘relief’ pediment, behind which a lean-to roof sloped down to the rear. The masonry of the building was pseudoisodomic. From the inscription we learn that the design included a temenos containing other buildings and gardens belonging to the Twelve Gods and the Hero. One of the largest of Hellenistic rock-cut facades, and one of unusual design, is to be found at Lindos on the island of Rhodes (figs. 211–12). Like most other funerary structures, the monument occupies a conspicuous site, being located just above the western section of the city, in the district now known as Kampana.124 The monument was commissioned by Archokrates as a burial-place for himself and his immediate family, thus ensuring their ‘presence’ in the community even after their physical death. The facade of the tomb, 22.5 m long and approximately 9.5 m high, was cut from the living rock; it faced eastward, and was two storeys high. The lower storey consisted of an engaged order of twelve Doric half-columns. The fluted Doric shafts rested on a platform of three steps. The necking of these half-columns consisted of three annulets below a slightly curving echinus. The ratio of column-height to lower diameter is 5.8 : 1; the axial span measured two metres. Above each intercolumnar space the frieze had two triglyphs with flat-topped grooves. The lower order terminated in a projecting sima with antefixes. Above the sima was a wide decorative band, on which elliptical medallions alternated with female figures springing from acanthus foliage. The simplified second storey stood at the back of a narrow platform (maximum width 1.64 m), which could be reached from the sides by symmetrically placed stairways that recall the

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments ramps leading to the proskenion of a Hellenistic theatre. In the centre of this ‘stage’ were placed four cylindrical marble altars, with inscriptions on their bases. At the back of the ‘stage’ the vertical lines of the ground floor were continued upward by flat pilasters, 2.2 m high, placed on a high socle. The crowning elements are missing, but in all probability a carved horizontal roofline topped the monument. Painted or sculptural decoration, or both, must have played a considerable role in enhancing the scenographic impression of the composition. Only a few traces of such embellishments have been found, but their location (between the Doric columns of the lower, and on the pinaxlike panels of the upper, storey) can be ascertained from the analogy of the Lefkadhia tomb (fig. 218). The interior was entered from the east through three centrally placed openings between the Doric columns. An approximately square chamber, preceded by a much wider but shallower vestibule, recalls the ground plan of Macedonian underground tombs. A remarkable feature of this rock-cut cult-room is its western podium, approached by steps along the sides, with a Tshaped burial place beneath. A centrally placed staircase led to this chamber. Rock-cut benches lined the walls on the other sides of the cultroom. Since the interior is badly damaged, and somewhat altered by the addition of later loculi, its exact shape and decoration can only be conjectured. Originally the ceiling may have had a tent form, while the walls had polychrome painted revetments, composed of panels alternating with pilasters, similar to those of the upper part of the facade. Architecturally, the Archokrateion as a whole can be compared with other local buildings, such as the lower stoa and the Propylaia of the precinct of Athena, both of which had imposing columnar facades, or with the rock-cut ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies’ at Rhodini.125 Moreover, the monument is related to other two-storey structures, especially the facades of theatres and tombs, where scenic effects were stressed at the expense of a more conventional design. We know from the Lindian Chronicle that in 225 Archokrates became priest of Athena. It can there-

85

fore be assumed that the tomb was executed during the last quarter of the third century, a date supported by both epigraphic and stylistic evidence. About 11.5 km northeast of the modern village of Didyma stand the ruins of a Hellenistic heroon known in modern literature as ‘Ta Marmara’ (fig. 213).126 The structure, 12 m square on plan, was built on a hill some 40 m high, overlooking Akbuk Bay to the south. The building material was local limestone, stuccoed and painted. A stepped socle, more than 1.5 m high, supported three courses of isodomic masonry, the total height of which was about the same as that of the socle. On this high platform was built a complete ‘cella’ enclosed by Doric columns. On each of the sides and across the back were six free-standing columns set close to the cella walls.127 On the front, two engaged Doric half-columns flanked a large doorway. In the upper section of the intercolumniations carved and painted shields provided the only relief decoration. A Doric architrave, triglyph frieze, and low-pitched roof with pedimental ends, completed the temple-like form of this tomb.128 A small doorway in the lower storey gave access to a chamber divided into two sections, one behind the other. The interior of the upper floor repeated this pattern, but here the ceiling had a casette decoration of diamond patterns. The design of the Ta Marmara Heroon is another example of temple forms modified to serve as a tomb; but it also has close affinities with the somewhat earlier second-century Bouleuterion at nearby Miletos (figs. 324–6). Furthermore, it may have exerted a formative influence on similar schemes of the Roman era. At Messene, following the construction during the third century of the Hellenistic palaistra, a series of three impressive tombs was constructed on the west side of the approach road coming from the region of the agora and the Asklepieion to the north.129 The southernmost of these tombs, K-3 in the architectural study by Juko Ito, is dated by the excavator, P. Themelis,130 to the late third century, and was highly original in design; a square chamber was surmounted by a concave-sided cone crowned by a finial, which consisted of a low circular

86

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

base fluted like the top drum of a column and supporting a Corinthian capital.131 The square base was converted to a circle supporting the cone by means of triangular corner blocks with a curved interior face.132 On the basis of the excavator’s dating, this monument must be the earliest known Greek attempt at supporting a circular structure over a hollow square base; and the next examples of a concave-cone superstructure are probably the much later Augustan mausoleum at Aquileia and the ‘Tomb of Absalom’ in the Kidron valley at Jerusalem (fig. 423). The designer of the tomb was clearly a gifted architect; however, his name, unlike that of Damophon the Messenian sculptor, was evidently not known, or at least not recorded, by the traveller Pausanias or any other ancient writer.133 The fourth century marked the beginning of the development of entire necropoleis of rock-cut tombs reflecting Greek architectural influence. In part, the existence of such burials depended on local geological conditions; but economic factors also played an important role. It was cheaper to cut out a facade in the face of the cliff than to build a free-standing structure of equal dimensions. Thus important rock-cut tomb groups are to be found in several regions of the Hellenistic world: in Lykia, Karia, Phrygia, Kappadokia, and Paphlagonia in Asia Minor; in Palestine; in Cyprus; at Alexandria and Cyrene in North Africa; at Canosa in South Italy; in Etruria (e.g., at Sovana and Norchia); in Illyria (Albania); and on Thera and Rhodes in the Aegean.134 The most common arrangement was one with an impressive monumental front that masked a small, and often summarily executed, burial chamber, with rock-cut klinai that imitated wooden prototypes ranged along the walls. The best sites for such tombs, which were meant to attract attention, were vertical cliffs visible from many directions; from a distance the tombs appeared as large windows. Among the more obviously Greek types of rock-cut facade, the Ionic templetombs are the most numerous. The Doric order was less commonly employed, except at Cyrene; and there is only one example of a Corinthian tomb, at Sovana.135 In proportions and details no strict rules were applied by the designers; the re-

sult was a non-canonical, ‘free-style’ imitation of established Greek principles. The Tomb of Amyntas at Telmessos (modern Fethiye) occupies a large niche (approximately 11 × 13 m) hewn out of the limestone cliff (fig. 214). Four high steps, perhaps conceived as taking the place of a podium, lead up to a rather deep (ca. 2.6 m) porch, about 6 m in width.136 The front is distyle in antis; the unfluted columns are about 6.15 m in height, with a lower diameter of 0.73 m. The Ionic capitals have heavy prominent volutes, recalling to some extent those of the temple at Bassai.137 The bases are also unusual in possessing a plinth; and the scotia between the upper and lower torus is extremely elongated. Each of the antae carry three rosettes beneath their capitals. The left-hand anta also has an inscription (‘of Amyntas, son of Hermagios’), probably identifying the owner of the tomb. The simplification of the entablature, a common feature of rock-cut tombs, is evident here in the rather bulky dentil course supported by two fasciae. The pediment is quite low; it carries no sculpture, but was probably painted. The peak and corners are ornamented with akroteria. A high stone door with four panels masked the burial chamber. The design faithfully copied Greek wooden prototypes, with their bronze ornaments. Here, however, only the lower righthand panel could be opened to allow access to the interior. The door lintel has a series of carved bands, painted with decorative motifs and enclosed by unfinished consoles. In the interior three rock-cut benches projected from the walls of the small (ca. 2.5 × 2.7 m) burial chamber. The date of the Tomb of Amyntas, like that of most rock-cut tombs, remains an enigma. All of these tombs have been robbed of their contents, and what remains in the way of supplementary evidence is meagre. Stylistically, the unorthodox execution of the architectural forms raises difficulties in dating, which are increased by the fact that many rock-cut tombs were never completed. In the rock-cut tomb tradition of Asia Minor, and especially of Lykia, the introduction of Greek architectural elements was a gradual process. Following the period of Lykian tombs imitating wooden construction, mixed designs with some Greek mouldings began to appear. Com-

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments pletely Greek facades must then have been created under the impact of such monumental freestanding tombs as the Nereid Monument. The rock-cut facades were less expensive versions of the built tombs, though still retaining some of the dignity and impressiveness of the latter. The Tomb of Amyntas can probably be assigned to the later fourth century, a period that saw an upsurge of monumental building activity.138 By the time of the Macedonian conquest of Asia Minor many tombs of this type already existed, and the new rulers continued to erect them.139 Since Amyntas is a Macedonian name,140 it is conceivable that the Tomb of Amyntas belonged to a prominent Macedonian who died at Telmessos. In Macedonia itself a special type of tomb is found during the early fourth century. Mounds of earth (tumuli) covered vaulted burial chambers, which were often provided with imposing monumental facades.141 The designs of these facades show great variety, both in the use of the columnar orders and in the rest of the decorative arrangements. In the most pretentious tombs either Ionic or Doric members were engaged in the outer face of the entrance wall, and were crowned by a pediment, thus resembling the facades of temples. Fine examples of Ionic tombs have been found at Vergina, Langaza, and Lefkadhia (figs. 215–18). In each case a tetrastyle front was created by the employment of symmetrically placed engaged columns.142 The large anthemion akroteria surmounting the pediment of the Lefkadhia tomb are unusual (fig. 216). Among the Doric schemes is a tomb at Laina in which two free-standing columns were placed between antae in the central opening.143 Otherwise, the facades were generally decorated with engaged columns, as in the tomb on the Monastir Road in Thessalonike, and the royal tomb at Vergina discovered in 1977; however, some tombs had a non-columnar treatment, as in the Soteriades tomb at Dion.144 No tomb of the Corinthian order has yet come to light, presumably due to the unfamiliarity or unpopularity of that order in the otherwise eclectic architectural style of Macedonia. Most of the above sepulchral buildings were constructed of local limestone; 145 marble was rarely used. Most of the decoration, whether flat panels, relief figures, or applied ar-

87

chitectural elements that had hardly any structural function, were executed in painted stucco. Klinai are found almost without exception in the interior chambers, which were approached by a short dromos leading to the entrance. All these tombs belong to a period of less than two hundred years immediately preceding the Roman conquest of Macedonia. The most imposing example of the type is the so-called Great Tomb at Lefkadhia (figs. 217–18), discovered and excavated during the 1950s.146 Local limestone was employed for the entire structure, including the half-metre-thick platform that served as the only foundation for the entire building. Unlike other known Macedonian tombs, the Lefkadhia facade was two-storeyed, although the interior had only a single storey. The height of the facade (8.55 m) is almost identical with its width (8.68 m). Four fluted Doric half-columns, 3.35 m high, stood between the corner pilasters; there was a large doorway in the central span of this lower order. The height of the columns was six times the lower diameter. The stuccoed intervals between the columns were divided into two sections. The lower part imitated coursed masonry; the panels above, 1.29 m high × 1.55 m wide, carried figure-paintings of the deceased person, flanked by Hermes on the left, and by Aiakos and Rhadamanthos on the right. All the figures turn towards the doorway, indicating that behind it lay the focal point of the drama. They were placed on a ground-line consisting of a painted egg-and-tongue. Above the architrave, the frieze had two triglyphs above the central intercolumniation, one above the others.147 The eleven metopes represent fights between Lapiths and Centaurs; they were covered with a light wash but had no colour except for the strongly emphasized darkbrown shadow-lines.148 A projecting Doric cornice crowned the lower storey; its topmost section had a lively leaf-scroll decoration, painted in black, yellow, green, red, and white on a blue background. The next element of the design, the insertion of a continuous frieze, 70 cm high, below the Ionic order of the upper storey, is very striking.149 This stuccoed and painted relief-band depicted

88

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

a battle between Greeks (Macedonians) and Persians, a theme that must have enjoyed a considerable popularity after the conquests of Alexander the Great in the east. The frieze was surmounted by an Ionic cornice; above this crowning member a stylobate course supported the Ionic upper order, consisting of six engaged columns, 1.46 m high, between corner antae. The intercolumnar spaces were filled by seven false doors. The idea of a row of columns with a high supporting socle beneath them seems to have come from the podium tombs of Asia Minor. Here, however, the compression of the facade into a single plane does not have the ‘stage’ effect found in the Archokrateion at Lindos. Nevertheless, there is still a certain theatrical quality to the scheme; the scenographic impression is emphasized by setting the Ionic half-columns of the upper storey against a brightly painted background, thus creating the illusion of a real portico. The entablature of the upper order consisted of a two-fascia architrave with a narrow band on top, followed by a Lesbian-leaf course, dentils, and a painted pediment. Behind this extremely decorative front wall, a much more modest vestibule and funeral chamber made up the T-shape of the ground plan. The former is wide and shallow, 6.5 × 2.12 m, the latter square, 4.8 m per side. Both are barrelvaulted, the vaults reaching a height of 7.7 m and 5.4 m respectively. The antechamber had little decoration apart from the two relief shields flanking the doorway of the partition wall. An applied architectural ornament in stucco faced the walls of the burial chamber. Its lowest element comprised three horizontal fields of varying width, forming a podium about 1.5 m high. This podium supported fourteen engaged pilasters and a continuous Ionic entablature.150 The design seems to echo the second storey of the facade.151 In the scheme of the facade a number of features can be observed. Technically, the second storey, including the Ionic frieze, is comparable with monumental altars, as well as with podiumtombs. High decorated podia surmounted by columns, such as are found in the later Hellenistic altars at Priene, Magnesia, and Pergamon, indicate a certain conceptual relationship with the

upper level at Lefkadhia. On the other hand, the Lefkadhia facade as a whole bears no really close resemblance to any known Classical or Hellenistic building that might have served as a prototype. Temples do not have multi-storeyed fronts. Combinations of that type were reserved for certain types of public and private building: stoas, the skene of the Hellenistic theatre, and parts of palaces and larger houses all show a predilection for two-storeyed designs. Furthermore, some large-scale tombs, such as those at Cyrene, Canosa in South Italy, and Kandyba in Lykia,152 and gateways such as the Gate of Zeus and Hera at the city of Thasos,153 had twostoreyed facades. However, none of these structures were as elaborate as the Lefkadhia tomb, and all lacked the intermediate frieze. Consequently, one is obliged to admit that in this Macedonian tomb elements derived from various contexts were blended into a new unified and original composition.154 Combinations of different orders, or of their component parts, are by no means unknown in Macedonian monuments, as attested by the Vergina palace and the Philippeion at Olympia (fig. 193). Greek expansion in the eastern Mediterranean during the latter part of the fourth century must have brought about the modification of the traditional Macedonian tumulustomb. Certainly such influence can be deduced from the description of Alexander’s funeral carriage, preserved by ancient authors.155 As to the reasons for which these Macedonian tombs were built underground no definite answer can be given; however, religious beliefs and customs were probably the major factors. By raising a tumulus over the tomb, the builders ensured that the burial chambers could not be seen by mortals, but only by gods and supernatural beings. The Lefkadhia Great Tomb, along with the three other known burials of Macedonian type in the Lefkadhia region,156 are not very far from modern Edessa, where some scholars have placed the old Macedonian national capital and sanctuary of Aigeiai; and Aigeiai also served as the burial place of the Macedonian kings from Perdikkas onward.157 In any event, whether ancient Aigeiai was near Edessa or, as now seems

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments more likely, on the other side of Verria in the region of Vergina, the owner of the Lefkadhia tomb must have been a prominent member of the Macedonian aristocracy. He must have died around 300 or a little later, to judge from the stylistic details from the facade of his tomb. Since 1977, the tombs of the Lefkadhia region have been overshadowed by the remarkable burial monuments excavated by M. Andronikos in the Great Mound at Vergina. There Andronikos uncovered three important tombs, to which he has since given the conventional names the ‘Tomb of Persephone,’ the ‘Tomb of the Prince,’ and the ‘Tomb of Philip II.’158 The ‘Tomb of Persephone’ had been robbed of its contents, but retains, on the side and rear walls of the burial chamber, a magnificent series of wall paintings representing the abduction of Persephone by Pluto.159 The ‘Tomb of the Prince’ consisted of a vaulted antechamber (4.03 m wide × 1.75 m deep internally) behind a simple Doric facade, and a main chamber (4.03 m wide × 3 m deep), also vaulted. It was the burial place of a youth twelve to sixteen years of age, and owes its conventional name to the number and high quality of the silver, gilded, and gold objects found in the main chamber.160 Andronikos maintained from the time of its discovery that the third tomb, the longest and highest Macedonian tomb ever found,161 with an unparalleled wealth of furnishings, must have been the tomb of a king; on the basis of the datable material found in the interior, he suggested that it must have been the burial place of Philip II, father and predecessor of Alexander the Great. It was evident that the main chamber of the tomb had been hastily completed and closed before construction of the antechamber commenced. Andronikos explained the two distinct periods of construction as being due to Alexander’s hasty burial of his father in the main chamber, in the immediate aftermath of Philip’s murder, a burial that left Alexander himself free to hasten to Pella to consolidate his own position as the new king; once this aim had been accomplished arrangements were made for the construction, furnishing, and decoration of the antechamber, in which a young woman was buried.162 Andronikos’s claims regarding the his-

89

torical significance of this tomb have given rise to a considerable body of scholarly debate; however, the archaeological evidence suggesting a date in the decades 340–320 has brought an increasing number of scholars to accept his view. Since Alexander himself was buried in Alexandria, and accepting the ‘Tomb of Philip II’ as the burial place of a king, even the extreme upper and lower chronological limits for the largest of the three tombs in the Great Mound at Vergina allow only Philip II or Philip Arrhidaios, Alexander’s successor, as possible candidates; and all indications seem to point to Philip II, none to Philip Arrhidaios.163 Like the ‘Tomb of the Prince,’ the ‘Tomb of Philip II’ contained an antechamber (in this case 4.46 m wide by 3.35 m deep internally) and a main chamber (4.46 m square). Both chambers were stone-vaulted. Unlike the Lefkadhia Great Tomb, the facade was single-storeyed, with two widely spaced Doric half-columns between corner piers; as at Lefkadhia, above the Doric cornice there was a painted freize, representing scenes of hunting164 The architecture of the tomb and the amazing wealth of its furnishings are well illustrated in Andronikos’s 1984 monograph. If, as many scholars now do, we accept Andronikos’s identification of the tomb as that of Philip II, and his 340–330 date for the contents, this monument would mark an important milestone in the history of later Greek architecture. It would indicate incontrovertibly that already by the third quarter of the fourth century arch and vault construction were being used by Macedonian builders with skill and with complete confidence.165 If such was indeed the case, the first experiments with these methods of construction must have taken place no later than ca. 350, less than halfway through the reign of Philip II, and at an earlier date, as far as our present knowledge goes, than anywhere else in the Aegean world; and the appearance of arch and vault in Greece must have been an innovation of the burgeoning architectural tradition of the ‘new’ Macedonia created by Philip. Of course this view does not rule out the possibility of Near Eastern influence, to which the introduction of this type of construction in the

90

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

Greek world has usually been attributed; contacts between the Aegean and the Near East, after all, go back much further than the fourth century. It simply means that the Macedonian innovation took place a generation earlier than the death of Alexander in 323. The complex facade and vaulted roofs of the Lefkadhia Great Tomb can then be seen as an elaboration of a design originally established in the third quarter of the fourth century. Alexandria, the Ptolemaic metropolis that replaced the Egyptian village of Rhakotis, provides us with a number of burial complexes. Of the surviving Hellenistic tombs, the most elaborate examples were cut into the soft rock of the region.166 It is reasonable to assume that the Macedonians, settling in the Nile delta after 332, started to bury their dead according to their own customs. Nevertheless, local geological and climatic conditions, the Pharaonic heritage, and especially the rock-cut traditions of Asia Minor and the Cyrene region all influenced the development of Macedonian-Alexandrian tomb architecture. As the town expanded, especially eastwards, the cemeteries also moved outward, since they were normally situated outside the inhabited areas. In the eastern part of the city, where most Greeks and foreigners lived, are the cemeteries of Shatby, Hadra, Ibrahimiya, Sidi Gaber, and Mustafa Pasha; the last named constitutes the largest and the richest Hellenistic burial complex of monumental character known in Alexandria. The western necropoleis, which came more and more into use after the second century BC, included Gabbari, Mex, and Wardian-Mafrusa.167 On the Pharos island are the Anfushi and Ras et-Tin cemeteries. Southwest of the city centre, nearer the Sarapeion, lie the later Catacombs of Kom es-Shogafa. In the vicinity of the Alexandrian Eleusis, southeast of the Hadra area, was the so-called Antoniadhis Tomb. In ground plan it is comparable with Greek dwelling houses of the second and first centuries, with a series of rooms arranged around a central nucleus.168 The ‘Alabaster Tomb,’ southwest of Shatby, is a unique example of a sumptuous built sepulchre of the Ptolemaic age (fig. 219). A rock-cut bed was prepared for a series of meticulously con-

structed rooms; the only one still surviving has the walls and roof formed of massive alabaster monoliths, from which the popular name of the tomb is derived. The complex of chambers was probably surmounted by a tumulus in the Macedonian manner.169 Unfortunately, the site of the Sema of Alexander, known along with the royal burials from the descriptions of ancient authors, has not yet been found; in all probability it was a focal point of the layout of the city.170 The cemetery of Shatby seems to be one of the earliest known Hellenistic tomb complexes, datable to the first generations of the history of Alexandria (fig. 220).171 It was discovered during the last century, near the coast and east of the ancient Nile canal that opened into the Royal Harbour. The original plan was altered through the years by the addition of new sections, until the ever-expanding city absorbed the site. However, the core of the main tomb can still be discerned. An open courtyard, 6.75 × 8.2 m, with a pseudoperistyle of half-columns, was preceded on the north by a wide, shallow vestibule and an adjoining corridor. To the east opened an antechamber leading to the burial room proper. Architecturally, the most interesting parts of this rock-cut underground tomb are the walls with engaged orders.172 Against the northern wall of the large court stood six partly fluted Doric half-columns, three on either side of a central doorway. In the upper sections of the lateral intercolumniations were false windows above a stringcourse; the right-hand panels, painted sky blue, were slightly set back. Obviously the intention was to create the effect of vistas through the wall, such as appeared later, and on a larger scale, in wall paintings of the Second Pompeian Style. The entrance to the kline chamber reflects the same concept. In this case the wall is decorated with a small tetrastyle Ionic temple facade supporting a low pediment; this scheme recalls the fronts of Macedonian tombs. Presumably the same kind of illusionistic treatment was accorded to the now destroyed wall surfaces of the central court. Besides the loculi of the antechamber, a number of later burial niches were added to the east and west of the main complex, at the time when the family burial place became a public cemetery.

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments Tombs I and IV in the well-preserved necropolis of Mustafa Pasha, as well as the Antoniadhis hypogeum, all belong to the same class of burials as Shatby; a central open space formed the core of the design. In other respects each of these monuments has its own special features. Mustafa Pasha Tomb I (fig. 221) is approached by a staircase, leading down along the western side of a pseudoperistyle courtyard.173 The openings on each of the four sides of the court are framed by pairs of Doric half-columns, while in each corner two quarter-columns form a relief version of the cordiform pier. The frieze had three triglyphs over each intercolumnar space; in the corners there was a half-triglyph on each side of the angle. On the south side of the court, above the lintel of the middle doorway, is a remarkable painting, imitating Macedonian models, and depicting three horsemen and two standing female figures.174 Only a few traces remain of the rest of the painted decorations; one panel represents the upper part of a tholos building.175 Behind the somewhat Egyptianized doorways an extensive vestibule, with loculi opening off the sides, gives access to the kline chamber. Corinthian pilasters and a plain pediment framed the entrance to this chamber, providing one of the earliest examples of the Corinthian order in such a context. The remaining two rooms on the south, along with those on the north and east sides, served for loculus burials. The complex has generally been assigned to the second half of the third century, mainly on the basis of the style of the paintings.176 However, the architectural details do not exclude a date earlier in the same century.177 Closely related, but later in time, are some rock-cut tombs at Palaiokastro on Cyprus and others at Cyrene. Much more original is the somewhat later Tomb III in the Mustafa Pasha cemetery (figs. 222–3). Theatre architecture may well have provided the designer’s source of inspiration. The semicircular exedra for funerary rites on the south side of the central court was perhaps suggested by the cavea of a theatre. At the opposite end of the court, the kline chamber is preceded by a square room with an altar in the middle. Taking up the full width of the courtyard is what seems to be a simple raised ‘stage’ with a

91

decorative back wall; this ‘skene building’ constituted the principal element of the design.178 In a scheme reminiscent of Shatby, the front of the ‘skene’ is adorned with four Doric half-columns, plus two quarter-columns in the corners. In the three middle intervals there were real openings, with false doors in the end bays and in the single bays of the returning wings. Unlike Tomb I, the corners here were filled by pilasters; the corner spans have only one triglyph, while the other intercolumniations have two. Most of the painted surfaces, along with other decorative details, have long since disappeared. This tomb complex was built partly above ground; with its different levels and variety of shapes and forms, including the central ‘garden court,’ it is a unique product of the funerary architecture of the Hellenistic era.179 The imaginative organization of volumes and the frequent use, for purely ornamental purposes, of non-structural architectural members (particularly half-columns), gives some indication of the character of real residential architecture in the Ptolemaic capital. Furthermore, the sophistication of the whole design points toward the even more strongly eclectic designs of the Roman era. Mustafa Pasha Tomb IV, datable to the second century (fig. 224), lies north of Tomb III. It is remarkable in having a real peristyle, with two free-standing Doric columns between antae on each of the four sides of a square courtyard. Of the seven excavated burials in the Mustafa Pasha cemetery, no. II most clearly represents the oikos type of plan (fig. 225). The compartments are disposed along a central axis. Through an eastern staircase, situated parallel to that of Tomb I, one enters a hypaethral court, embellished on all sides with a triglyph-and-metope frieze, 3.85 m above the floor of the court. Two smaller enclosures, one for a painted kline, the other for a well, were cut in the western wall of the court. At the northern end, an annex used for funerary banquets faces the main compartments. On the south, a tripartite entrance with two Doric columns in antis leads to a vestibule. At the back of this vestibule another distyle-in antis colonnade forms the approach to a cultroom with benches along the longer sides, in

92

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

front of loculi. At the far end of the complex is an offering table with a small chamber behind it. The tomb has been dated by coin finds to the first half of the second century; yet from the architectural and decorative point of view a latethird-century date is also possible. The hypogeum at Sidi Gaber, a short distance west of Mustafa Pasha, is characterized by a strictly axial arrangement of its component parts: an open court, a vestibule, and a kline chamber with a loculus at the back.180 The ceiling of the antechamber, in the form of a painted baldachino, which is a striking feature of this tomb, recalls the description of Alexander’s funerary carriage given by Diodorus Siculus; 181 and the decoration of the room is also a forerunner of the decorative effects of the Second Pompeian Style. The wall surfaces of this room were divided into a tripartite system of painted horizontal zones. A wide passageway, flanked by inward-facing Doric half-columns attached to the antae, preceded the oikos. At the back there was a large kline painted with a miniature Amazonomachy. The walls were decorated with garlands hung between pilasters in a scheme reminiscent of Macedonian practice. The relative scarcity of Egyptianizing features and the combination of a single loculus with a real kline, as opposed to the later relief or painted couches, suggest a date in the third century, possibly earlier than Mustafa Pasha Tomb II. Of the six large tombs in the Anfushi district, the two most important were discovered in the early twentieth century.182 Both have a plan similar to that of Sidi Gaber. They exhibit numerous Egyptianizing features, including two segmental pediments; these may be an original feature, but could also be additions of a later period.183 Some of the stuccoed and painted walls imitated marble incrustation; the ceilings have geometric patterns. The date of these tombs is conjectural, but the small finds and the absence of kline burials seem to indicate the later Ptolemaic era. Brief mention may be made of two more Hellenistic hypogea of oikos type, which are larger in scale. The Mafrusa tomb is interesting for its painted walls, which recall the First Pompeian Style.184 The Wardian tomb (no. 1), discovered in the 1960s and dated by the excavator to the mid-

second century,185 has a painted false kline with a niche placed behind it for the actual burial. In order to help navigators at night or in bad weather, many large Hellenistic harbour towns were equipped with lighthouses. The largest and most famous of these structures was undoubtedly the Alexandrian Pharos, built at the northeastern entrance of the Great Harbour (fig. 226).186 It was near to, or may even have occupied the site of, an earlier edifice, perhaps a tomb, connected with the local seagod, Proteus.187 Like most other colossal monuments of the ancient world, the Pharos was largely destroyed by the middle of the fourteenth century.188 On the basis of literary descriptions, and of artistic representations from various periods, it can be restored in its main outlines. A causeway, the Heptastadion, led to the island, of which the lighthouse occupied only the northeastern tip. Above the base, some 30 m square, the first stage, about 70 m high, supported an octagonal second stage, almost half the height of the first, or one plethron.189 Both of these sections tapered slightly upward, and contained a large number of rooms. Numerous window openings pierced the exterior walls, in order to provide light for the interior ramps or stairways. The third stage was about 9 m high and cylindrical, perhaps in the form of a tholos.190 Its main function was to house the beacon and reflecting mirrors, and to support the statue that stood on the summit.191 The existence of four more large statues is indicated by representations on coins; 192 these were statues of horn-blowing tritons, placed above the corners of the first stage. In addition to these figures, a large number of sculptures have been located in, and in part recovered from, the sea around the base of the monument; 193 it is unclear, however, whether any of these stood at a higher level than that of the square base. There may have been some use of vaulting in the substructures, but the enormous weight of masonry above ground level seems to have been stabilized by a slight inward inclination of the beds of all masonry courses, from the perimeter toward the centre. A dedicatory inscription, recorded by ancient authors, was placed high above ground level on the seaward side, facing approaching ships.

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments The inscription mentioned Sostratos of Knidos as dedicator; despite the doubts expressed by P.M. Fraser,194 he was in all probability also the architect of the lighthouse, as indicated by the Elder Pliny. As in the case of the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos and other monumental buildings, construction of the Pharos probably required a considerable length of time. Consequently, if it was completed by the end of the third decade of the third century, it may have been started as early as the late nineties, during the reign of Ptolemy Soter. The influence of the Pharos in the GraecoRoman, as well as the Arabic, world was substantial. It inspired the designs of many smaller lighthouses, watchtowers, tombs, trophies, and minarets. One such building is the tower-like structure, of Ptolemaic date, at Taposiris Magna (modern Abusir) only about 50 km west of Alexandria.195 Above a low base, 10.75 m square, stands a high octagonal middle section and a cylindrical top. The entire building is constructed of neatly cut and well-fitted ashlar blocks, without any architectural decoration. An interior staircase led to the summit. The existence of a hypogeum below the tower seems to indicate that it served as a funerary monument in the form of a lighthouse.196 In the western Mediterranean, large tombs started to appear under the impact of eastern Hellenistic influence. The known examples are later than the most imposing types in Asia Minor. Peculiar are the obelisk, or pinnacle, tombs in the Punic regions of North Africa. In their slender appearance they distantly echo the schemes of the Semitic nefesh monument and those of elevated sarcophagi and pillar-tombs in Lykia. Furthermore, the superimposition of different stages, culminating in a pyramidal top, seems to connect these North African monuments with the Halikarnassos Mausoleum and its immediate descendants. At the same time, there are also elements derived from local traditions, and borrowings from the architecture of the great urban centres along the southern shore of the Mediterranean, such as Alexandria and Cyrene. The most remarkable Graeco-Punic funerary monument is the sandstone Mausoleum B at Sabratha, also referred to as the Mausoleum of

93

Bes or Bisu (fig. 227).197 This building, almost 24 m high, stood upon a triangular base that resembled a monumental ‘tripod’ structure. The concave sides start out with a high stepped platform, above which comes a section framed by squat engaged Ionic columns. The neckingdecoration of the diagonal capitals is reminiscent of the Erechtheion at Athens. The eastern, or principal, side had a false door of wholly Egyptian design, instead of attached columns; such doors are a characteristic feature of Punic architecture. Above the large cavetto cornice, the second storey was lavishly adorned with free-standing sculpture. Three seated lion figures supported projecting consoles, on which stood over-lifesize kouroi (ca. 3 m high). The concave fields of the three sides were enclosed by tall slender pilasters with Phoenicio-Cypriote capitals.198 Between these pilasters the lower section of each face was decorated with reliefs; 199 between the capitals was a band of stylized palmettes. A steep pyramid crowned the monument, the entire surface of which was covered with painted stucco. The mausoleum seems to date from the late third or early second century. At Dougga in Tunisia there is a large tomb (probably of mid-second-century date), of Graeco-Numidian type but somewhat more conventional in design (fig. 228).200 On the basis of an associated bilingual inscription (in Libyan and Punic), it has long been regarded as the funerary monument of a certain Ateban, believed to have been a Numidian chief of the time of King Masinissa (206–148). More recent investigations, however, have shown that Ateban was probably the name of the architect, who is mentioned along with other Numidian craftsmen engaged to construct the tomb. The identity of the owner remains unknown, though he was doubtless a Numidian prince or king.201 The structure is a square tower-tomb, approximately 21 m in height; above the podium are three stages, or storeys, of decreasing size, each standing on its own stepped base.202 The lowest storey, 5.74 m high, also has the largest number of steps (five); it is decorated with corner pilasters topped by ‘bent’ Phoenicio-Cypriote capitals. The intervals have false windows, except for the northern and eastern sides, where

94

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

movable slabs blocked the openings leading to the burial chamber. The second storey, 5.21 m high, with three steps, has four engaged Ionic columns on each face, surmounted by an architrave and cavetto cornice, and with an opening in the central spans of the northern and eastern sides. The third stage is 6.21 m high, and more elongated than the others; the angles have pilasters with ‘bent’ Phoenicio-Cypriote capitals, and an entablature like that of the second storey. The three-stepped base was interrupted by pedestals at the corners; these once carried statues of horsemen. Again the design terminated in a pyramid, 3.75 m high; at the corners were winged female statues, while a seated lion crowned the top. In all three storeys the masonry is pseudo-isodomic. At Ptolemais there is a massive tower-tomb that evidently relied heavily on Asia Minor prototypes,203 such as the Belevi Mausoleum. It still stands on its solid rock foundation to a height of 14 m; the original height was ca. 27 m. The monument is 12 m square. The lower storey was decorated with a Doric frieze with plain corner pilasters; there were three false doors on the north, or main, facade. On this same principal side the second storey had a complete Ionic order, with four engaged columns supporting the entablature and pediment. In the intercolumniations three illusionistic windows corresponded to the doors below. Notable is the necking ornament of acanthus foliage on the Ionic capitals, a motif borrowed from the Corinthian repertoire.204 Provision was made for multiple burials in the interior, which was accessible through an opening on the south side. The two storeys were connected by an interior staircase. The combination of architectural elements, and the beautiful ashlar construction, date the tomb to the Hellenistic period, perhaps to the first half of the second century. The so-called Tomb of Theron at Akragas in Sicily (fig. 229) was constructed about a century later.205 The design, which has affinities with North African Punic structures,206 consists of two storeys resting on a high podium. Above the podium is a toichobate crowned by a cyma recta moulding. The main portion of the lower storey is of plain isodomic construction. Above this is

a complex cornice terminating in a pronounced cavetto profile. The total height, including base and crown, is 3.91 m; each side measures 4.81 m. The second storey, 3.73 m high, has a large false door in the middle of each side. At the corners were three-quarter Attic-Ionic columns. A Doric architrave and frieze are the highest architectural elements still preserved today; everything above the frieze has disappeared. A pyramidal top, such as we find in most of the Punic monuments, is the most likely termination for this design, with its strongly tapering sides. The now undivided interior must originally have been planned with two levels, corresponding to those of the exterior. Large-scale ‘tumuli’ built entirely in stone were rare in the Hellenistic world. The Medracen tomb in eastern Algeria measures approximately 59 m in diameter at the base; the height is close to 20 m. This tomb must have been commissioned by a Massylian king, perhaps as early as the third century, but more probably by Masinissa in the earlier second century.207 The cylindrical socle is decorated with sixty engaged columns with unfluted shafts, and has three false doors placed equidistantly around the perimeter. Above the prominent cavetto cornice is a circular stepped ‘tumulus’ with twenty-three rings of stone. An interior gallery led to the burial chamber, which was placed slightly off-centre. The builder of the Kbour-er-Roumia (long known as ‘Tombeau de la Chr´etienne’), probably of the first half of the first century BC (fig. 230), used the Medracen as his immediate model.208 Both ‘tumuli’ owe their existence to the local physical conditions: material for earth mounds was not readily available, and sand would have blown away without a retaining facing of stone. All the above-mentioned tombs belong to the Mausoleum type, even if in conception they differed somewhat from their prototype. The closest to the ideal Greek design was the tower-tomb at Ptolemais, where above the Doric podium there appears an illusionistic Ionic tetrastyle temple facade. Here as elsewhere, however, the columnar orders never regained their long-lost Classical function, but served merely for decorative purposes. In the absence of evidence to the contrary, it can be assumed that the Punic

Tombs and Commemorative Monuments mausolea exerted some influence on later Roman tombs in southern France and elsewhere in the northern and western provinces of the Empire. The idea of victory over death, and of a monument commemorating a victorious life, was already present in the earliest mausolea. Nevertheless, the concept crystallized fully only in Imperial times, when it resulted in the combination of funerary forms, triumphal arches, and tholoslike commemorative buildings in a single edi-

95

fice, such as the Monument of the Julii at StR´emy in Provence (fig. 231).209 Such composite (sometimes called baroque) creations, still using an essentially Hellenistic vocabulary, enjoyed a widespread popularity throughout the Mediterranean world; thus one can find analogous types in geographically distant places. It was only the employment of new materials, above all concrete, that in time revolutionized the design of monumental tombs and commemorative buildings.

5 Theatres and Stadia

A. THEATRES For modern students, the history of Greek theatres as substantial buildings really begins in the mid-fourth century; clearly defined principles of design do not appear before the Hellenistic age. It is ironic, but not unparalleled in other periods and contexts, that the evolution of these principles should have coincided with the decline of Greek dramatic poetry, both comic and tragic. The reasons for this decline are rather complex. Greek tragedy and comedy both grew out of religious celebrations. Especially in the hands of Euripides, tragedy subsequently became more moralizing than ‘religious,’ and also more ‘dramatic’ in character; and the comic poets of the latter half of the fifth century, such as Aristophanes, used the genre of comedy as a vehicle both for uninhibited farce and for biting political satire – the latter a type of performance that would hardly have been tolerated either by the tyrants of the Archaic period or by the autocratic rulers of the Hellenistic age. Nevertheless, throughout the fifth and fourth centuries Athenian dramatic compositions continued to be associated with the festivals of the wine god Dionysos. In the late first century Vitruvius still describes the theatre as a place ‘for . . . seeing plays and festivals of the immortal gods’;1 and as we shall see in a later chapter, the Romans did in fact create a new type of temple complex, the ‘theatre-temple,’2 for the presentation of spectacles connected with the cults of specific temples.3 Yet from the later fifth

century onward, at least in the Greek world, the rationalism of Greek philosophy increasingly undermined older religious beliefs, especially in the leading political and literary circles of the day; and at Rome, the formal and ceremonial character of the Roman state religion hardly provided a favourable climate for drama based on personal beliefs and convictions. Consequently, the most widely accepted types of performance in later times were the New Comedy of manners (as found in Menander, Plautus, and Terence), and short mimes and pantomimes. In the field of tragedy, the most popular performances were likely to be revivals of the great plays of Classical times. In the later fourth century, Aristotle uses Sophokles for many of his illustrations of good dramatic technique, and regards Euripides, despite his technical shortcomings, as ‘certainly the most tragic of the poets.’4 Aristotle clearly did not think that these earlier poets had any serious rivals among the tragedians of the fourth century. Another factor, affecting both the decline in the ‘ethical’ content of drama and the development of more elaborate theatre buildings, was the transformation of drama from a religious celebration into a form of public entertainment. Probably this change was responsible for attempts at more realistic and convincing techniques of production, sharper physical isolation of the actors from their surroundings, and closer

Theatres and Stadia attention to acoustics and the physical comfort of the spectators.5 Most of the later modifications in the physical fabric of the Greek theatre were probably designed to meet these requirements. It is really at this point – when, in the words of T.B.L. Webster, Greek ‘tragedy became hieratic and comedy became respectable’6 – that the history of Greek theatre design as monumental architecture commences. With this development came the danger, clearly perceived by discerning critics such as Aristotle, of confusing brilliant spectacle with good dramatic composition; the history of the modern cinema provides instructive parallels. Yet the evolution of theatre buildings in the later fourth century and Hellenistic times cannot be fully understood in isolation from the more modest provisions of the Classical period. Many of the technical terms and conventions of the Greek and Roman theatre go back to these earlier phases of development, which must therefore be briefly described, if only to serve as the background against which later innovations are seen. For the early Greek choral dances, out of which both tragedy and comedy subsequently developed, the essential requirement was a dancing floor, or orchestra, large enough to accommodate the choreographic movements of the performers. Since the dancers normally wore some sort of special costume, and perhaps on occasion changed their costumes in the course of a single performance, it was also desirable to provide a temporary dressing room, no doubt in the form of a tent or a wooden hut (skene), in which members of the performing group, or choros (chorus in Latin form), could dress for their parts. The seating area (or in early times probably only a standing area) for the spectators was of less importance; if a special area for spectators was provided at all, it would normally be on the opposite side of the orchestra from the skene, or related to the temple of Dionysos, if the performance took place in front of a temple.7 The Greek word theatron is derived from a verb meaning ‘to see’;8 architecturally, theatron was originally applied only to the spectator area, and could also be used as a collective term for the audience. The shape of the orchestra in the Athenian theatre

97

may not have been clearly defined before the late sixth or early fifth century, when a large terrace for the orchestra was laid out at the southeastern foot of the Acropolis, between the southern slopes of the hill and the temple and temenos of Dionysos on the somewhat lower ground to the south.9 The early orchestra in the Athenian agora, known from literary sources,10 was probably only an area cordoned off on the occasion of performances; there is no indication of its shape. Over fifty years ago Carlo Anti advanced the then revolutionary view that the normal shape of the orchestra in early Greek theatres, including the theatre of Dionysos at Athens, was rectilinear rather than circular; for more than two decades, however, Anti’s theory was generally ignored or rejected.11 More recently the evidence in favour of Anti’s view has been increasingly appreciated, and it is now widely accepted that orchestras of rectilinear, or generally rectilinear, shape were indeed the norm in earlier times, and might be found in newly laid-out theatres of fairly late date, even in Attika; in this connection the demetheatre of the fourth century excavated at Trachones, south of Athens, is of great significance, since it retained its rectilinear orchestra into the early Hellenistic period.12 It is highly probable, though it cannot be proved, that the early orchestra in the theatre of Dionysos at Athens was also rectilinear; the adoption of a circular plan for the orchestra may not have occurred before the second quarter of the fourth century.13 H.R. Goette has suggested that when the number of permanent seats in theatres was increased, the semicircular auditorium was introduced in order to ensure equally good vision and acoustics for everyone in a given tier of seats;14 the introduction of a semicircular orchestra and tiers of seats at Athens ultimately led to the acceptance of curvilinear forms as the norm all over the Mediterranean, both east and west of the Adriatic. We hear of wooden seats of bleacher type (ikria) at Athens, in connection with dramatic performances of late Archaic times;15 before that period there is no evidence for the provision of any seating at all, to say nothing of a large auditorium. Probably the arrangement of these early wooden seats was governed in part by the contours of the ground, in part by the shape

98

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

of the orchestra. Even after the first clearly defined orchestra terrace had been laid out in the sanctuary of Dionysos, the wooden seats may still have been simply arranged in more or less straight rows along the lower slopes of the hillside to the north.16 It is conceivable that there were already stone thrones for the priest of Dionysos and other dignitaries. It was only later, however, in large auditoria associated with orchestras of circular or horseshoe shape, that rising tiers of seats (whether of stone or of wood) were set out in semicircular form on the slopes of a hollow hillside. The hollow shape of the hillside may sometimes have been a natural formation; more often, the desired contours were produced by a combination of excavation and heaping up of sloping embankments behind retaining walls (analemmata). As late as the Periklean period, the seats in the theatre at Athens (probably still of wood) were confined to a fairly small area, so that the Odeion of Perikles could be built only a short distance to the east of the orchestra (figs. 232–3). When a large auditorium in stone was constructed, in the later fourth century, some of the upper tiers of seats had to be truncated on the east in order to adjust the shape of the theatre auditorium to that of the northwestern corner of the pre-existing Odeion; and the existence of the sanctuary of Asklepios to the west demanded a somewhat irregular outline on that side as well.17 The auditorium set into a hillside, whether rectilinear or curvilinear, was known as ‘the hollow’ (koilon in Greek, cavea in Latin). From the later fourth century onward the construction of large koila, or caveae, required much more time and money than did that of the skene, which in Greek theatres always remained relatively modest in scale. Thus the term ‘theatre’ (theatron), which had originally denoted only the spectator area, came to be used of the whole complex of koilon (or cavea), orchestra, and skene. Before the Hellenistic period, the architectural development of the Greek skene, whether at Athens or elsewhere, is very obscure. Many representations of dramatic scenes appear on South Italian vases of the fourth century.18 From these it is clear that the Greeks of Magna Graecia, and probably also of Sicily, were already employing a wooden stage and skene (or stagehouse,

as we may now appropriately call it) of some size.19 The central portion of the facade might be adorned with wooden columnar porches; at least in the popular burlesques (performed by troops known as phlyakes) the actors appeared on a low wooden stage, supported on posts and joists, and projecting toward the orchestra from the front of the skene proper. Moreover, possibly as early as ca. 300, a South Italian terracotta model of a stagehouse or skene, now in Naples (fig. 234), represents an elaborate facade with two tiers of columns (presumably wooden) crowned by a pediment. As we shall see later, this South Italian Greek tradition, in which the decorative facade of the stagehouse rose at the back of a low stage, provided a model for the low stage and elaborate stagehouse facade (pulpitum and scaenae frons) of Roman theatres of the later Republic and the Empire.20 In Athens also, low wooden stages may not have been totally unknown, for a fragment of Attic red-figured pottery has been thought to represent such a stage.21 Yet even if the red-figure scene does represent a stage, there is nothing to show that it has to do with the fifth-century theatre of Dionysos, or even with Athens rather than with a small demetheatre elsewhere in Attika. Within mainland Greece, the only good evidence for the form of early skene buildings comes from the theatre of Dionysos at Athens, and perhaps from the earliest traces of the stagehouse at Corinth; previously accepted dates for Athens, however, are now in dispute, and both date and form at Corinth are somewhat conjectural.22 In neither case is there evidence of the existence of any type of stage in front of the early wooden skene. Moreover, the Athenian skene was probably still a temporary wooden structure, which could be modified from day to day and dismantled after each festival. The back wall was supported on posts anchored in sockets cut in the north face of the long terrace-wall on the downhill side of the orchestra (Wall H on Fiechter’s plans).23 The wooden skene erected in front of this wall enclosed at least part of a rectangular platform of masonry, ca. 7.5 m wide × 3.26 m deep, projecting forward from the terrace-wall on the north–south axis of the orchestra (fig. 235).

Theatres and Stadia This platform seems to have provided both for mounting painted scenery or a wooden columnar facade in front of a wide doorway, and for the use of such staging devices as the ekkyklema and geranos, or ‘crane’ (also called the mechane, or ‘machine’). The ekkyklema is thought to have been rolled forward through the doorway to display in the form of still tableaux the results of events that could not be acted out in view of the spectators; the geranos or mechane would have been used for scenes such as Medea’s escape at the end of Euripides’ Medea and for the appearance of a god (hence, ex machina) to unravel the complexities of the plot. Both these devices were older than the earliest preserved skene; the ekkyklema was perhaps employed in Aischylos’s Persians in 472, and the crane must have been in use by 431, the date of the first production of Medea.24 Moreover, we learn from Aristotle that painted scenery was introduced by Sophokles, who won his first victory in the tragedy competition in 468; our English word ‘scenery’ is derived from such backdrops (skenographia or ‘skenepainting’), presumably executed either on movable wooden panels set into, or on canvases hung in front of, the wooden skene. Not later than the thirties of the century Agatharchos of Samos executed, for the revival of a play of Aischylos (died 456), a ‘scene’ that may have included the representation of buildings in perspective.25 We must therefore suppose that the earliest actual remains were preceded by a temporary skene, entirely of wood with no stone footings, which was put in place only during the dramatic festivals. The platform that supported the ekkyklema and geranos may also have carried across its front a wooden floor resting on joists. Indeed, there would have been numerous advantages to a ‘stage-floor’ that extended in front, and beyond the flanks, of the stone foundation; for having the actors speak from a low wooden stage would surely have been more effective, both scenically and acoustically, than would have been the case had both they and the chorus stood in the orchestra. It may well be that a low wooden ‘stage’ of this type was provided in both the Athenian and Corinthian theatres of the fifth century.26 It would probably have been erected for and removed after each festival, in

99

order to protect the wooden planks and supports from the effects of the weather; in any case, it would not be likely to leave any traces on the site. On the other hand, the wooden skenai of South Italian Greek theatres were at least semipermanent installations, higher, and probably more solidly built, than any of their hypothetical counterparts on the Greek mainland. The stone platform in the theatre at Athens, together with the wall behind it, the southwardfacing stoa, and the new temple of Dionysos, used to be dated in the last quarter of the fifth century; they were seen as parts of a single building program, probably undertaken at the time that a new statue of Dionysos was made by Alkamenes, a pupil of Pheidias.27 The use of breccia for the foundations of the new temple and for the stoa and stagehouse platform seemed to support this date, since breccia was used during the fifth century for foundations in the Athenian agora. The construction of the later stone stagehouse and the extant stone koilon was then associated with the administration of the orator Lykourgos, between 338 and 325. However, a redating of both phases of the Athenian stagehouse was prompted by E. Kalligas’s discovery of pottery of the middle of the fourth century in association with parts of the breccia foundations of the new temple of Dionysos; and R. Townsend has argued that the type of breccia found in the precinct of Dionysos differs from that used in the agora, and does not in fact occur before the mid-fourth century.28 Kalligas’s excavations led Travlos to assign the stoa and stagehouse platform to Lykourgos, and to move the later stone stagehouse down to the end of the fourth century.29 H.R. Goette, in his recent review of the history of Classical Greek theatre buildings,30 seems to favour a more or less continuous development of the Athenian theatre during the fourth century, starting perhaps as early as ca. 370 and ending during the administration of Lykourgos. The first skene, the stoa, and the new temple of Dionysos are dated in the mid-fourth century; work on the stone koilon may have commenced as early as ca. 370, while the first skene completely of stone was planned some years before the administration of Lykourgos and completed under his

100

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

supervision.31 This chronology is more satisfactory than that of Travlos, but involves the assumption that planning of the new stone skene began almost immediately after completion of its predecessor (which had presumably proved totally unsatisfactory?). I have argued elsewhere that the form of the Lykourgan skene was based on numerous experiments with different forms of wooden skene, supported on upright timbers inserted in the sockets cut in the breccia wall behind the back wall of the stoa. This early skene should therefore date from the early fourth century at the latest, and could well belong to the last decades of the fifth century.32 The extant ‘new temple’ of Dionysos, with its deep front porch projecting beyond the flank walls of the cella on either side, belongs stylistically in the fourth century; but there is nothing to show that the extant remains could not represent a remodelling of a fifth-century temple that had been built to house the statue by Alkamenes. It seems unlikely that these problems of dating can be resolved without new excavations in the area of the skene and orchestra; such excavations may even confirm the drastic chronological revisions proposed by Travlos. As things stand, however, even if the new temple was not built until after 350, the breccia ‘skene-wall’ of the theatre might still be a generation or more earlier, although Goette’s arguments militate against a date before the early fourth century; the building of the stone stagehouse would then have been completed by Lykourgos, as generally held. Assuming that there was no stone structure of any sort during the fifth century, the theatre of Aischylos, Sophokles, and Euripides would have been more or less as shown in the Ch. Schieckel model in Munich, but with the eastern bank of seats as shown on the plan reproduced by R. Bees.33 A major problem with Travlos’s, and even with Goette’s, dates is the implication that Athenian dramatists and producers made no substantial provision for dressing rooms, stage machinery, and mounting of scenery before the late fourth century. Whatever experiments in theatre production may have taken place between the beginning of Aischylos’s career and the death of Aristophanes, none of these was apparently

considered sufficiently important to justify the construction of a framework that would allow the new methods of production to be repeated in subsequent years. It was only during the last half of the fourth century, as Middle Comedy was giving way to New Comedy, that a flurry of building activity took place, presumably to adapt the theatre to the requirements of the new literary genre. I have argued elsewhere that this view of the history of Athenian theatre production flies in the face of reason. From the second quarter or middle of the fourth century, the auditoria of newer Greek theatres began to be built entirely in stone; the theatre at Megalopolis may be the earliest dateable large-scale example, unless, as suggested by Goette, it was inspired by a newly planned stone koilon at Athens. At first these developments affected only the auditorium; at Athens a wooden skene was retained until the time of Lykourgos. At Megalopolis, the Doric entrance porch of the Thersilion, the federal assembly hall of the Arkadian League built in the middle or third quarter of the fourth century, faced the orchestra and auditorium of the theatre to the south (fig. 236); thus, the porch doubled as a backdrop, or setting, for performances in the orchestra, while the interior of the hall could be used as a dressing room, or skene in the strict sense. At some date that cannot be precisely determined the eastern parodos, or entrance corridor, leading into the orchestra was walled around to serve as an area for the storage of stage properties (a skenotheke). In this area is a ‘track,’ laid out on a line that, when projected into the orchestra, would run just in front of the steps of the Thersilion porch. This track has been interpreted as permitting a sliding wooden backdrop to be wheeled out of the skenotheke to a position in front of the Doric colonnade of the porch.34 Painted canvasses or wooden panels mounted in this movable frame would have provided the setting for plays for which the Doric colonnade of the porch was unsuitable, for instance, the cave in Sophokles’ Philoktetes, or the street and house scenes of Attic comedy, or the rustic setting of Menander’s Dyskolos. Assuming that the remains at Megalopolis are correctly interpreted, it is likely that movable

Theatres and Stadia backdrops of this type (scaena ductilis 35 in Latin) were used chiefly in the Roman period; such devices were less needed in Classical times, when the facade of the skene, or perhaps the whole skene, was itself constructed of wood, and scene paintings appropriate to each type of play could be quickly and easily mounted. Even at Megalopolis scenery could have been hung, when necessary, in front of the Thersilion colonnade. Nevertheless, it does seem probable that the scenery in Greek theatres became increasingly ‘realistic’ and convincing from the later fifth century onward. Probably one reason that a largely wooden skene survived into the later fourth century in the Athenian theatre was the fact that it made changes of set much simpler. Partly for this reason, the tradition of the wooden skene and stage continued into Hellenistic times, in the theatres at Delos and Pergamon (figs. 237–40).36 In both these cases, however, the skene was clearly a much more elaborate structure than any of its Classical predecessors; it probably reproduced in wooden form a two-storied skene with high proskenion-stage in front. The use of a stone colonnade as a backdrop in the theatre at Megalopolis was quite exceptional for its period. In fact, the association of the theatre and assembly hall at Megalopolis is likely to have been prompted by political rather than dramatic considerations. The interior of the Thersilion was probably used for meetings of the federal assembly only when the weather was inclement. At other times the assembly met in the open-air theatre, which corresponded to the open-air meeting place of the Athenian ekklesia on the Pnyx Hill at Athens. From the viewpoint of members of the Arkadian federal assembly, the Doric colonnade of the Thersilion was no doubt an imposing backdrop for political gatherings, rather than the setting for dramatic performances.37 Both at Athens and elsewhere, designers of the fourth century probably did try to set off the actors more effectively from the orchestra by framing the low wooden platform on which they stood between projecting wings, or paraskenia, at either end.38 A ‘performance area’ raised one or two steps above the orchestra, and enclosed at either end by paraskenia, would have provided

101

a much sharper visual focus for the action of the play; and the wooden floor plus back and side walls could not but improve the acoustic properties of the ‘stage.’ Thus, when the skene of the theatre of Dionysos was rebuilt in stone in the later fourth century, the paraskenia of the earlier wooden experiments were retained (fig. 232); the fronts of these wings may have been used for mounting painted wooden panels or pinakes.39 The wings were certainly at least partly colonnaded; but suggested arrangements of the columns are all conjectural. It should be emphasized that even the chronology of the Athenian theatre proposed by Travlos, and discussed above, involves very little change in the traditional view of later-fourth-century developments in staging and production. The ‘Lykourgan’ skene is simply moved about one generation, from ca. 335–325 to ca. 300. Of course if we assume, as I think we must, that developments of the later fourth century were governed primarily by the requirements of New Comedy, we may still wonder why the putative post-Lykourgan designers of the new stone stagehouse did not take the obvious step of introducing a high proskenion-stage at that time, rather than a century or so later.40 In fact, I have argued that this step may have been tentatively taken at Athens even before the last quarter of the fourth century.41 Dorpfeld believed that the colonnades along ¨ the inner flanks of the Lykourgan paraskenia continued across the front of the skene in the form of a column-screen and entablature set against the outer face of the front wall; but Dinsmoor argued that the foundations of the front of the skene are too narrow to have supported both a wall and a row of columns. Unfortunately, Dinsmoor decided that this fact excluded the existence of columns. He therefore failed to consider the possibility of a single-storeyed Lykourgan proskenion of stone, supporting a raised stage in front of a two-storeyed skene;42 and many scholars followed him in opting for a plain wall with three doors, implicitly adopting the view that in Lykourgos’s day the actors still performed at the level of the orchestra, in the space between the newly constructed projecting paraskenia. In recent times, however, it has been

102

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

suggested that some sort of removable wooden stage was probably erected in the space between the paraskenia.43 If in fact a low wooden platform for the actors had been provided in the preceding (early-fourth-century?) phase of the Athenian skene, it is most unlikely that it would not have continued in use after the Lykourgan rebuilding; and, as suggested above, the new stone paraskenia were probably also based on experiments with wooden paraskenia during the preceding three-quarters of a century. Assuming the existence of such a stage, it is clear that, whatever architectural form the front of the Lykourgan skene took, a step or steps would have been required inside the building to enable actors entering from the rear to reach the level of the low stage as they came through the doors in the front wall of the skene. If the Lykourgan ‘stage’ was not extended out to the paraskenion colonnade on each side, it would doubtless have had a step, or steps, along the sides, as well as across the front of the skene; actors entering from the wings would then have emerged from the paraskenion before mounting the stage. On the other hand, if the Lykourgan ‘stage’ extended right out to the paraskenia, and these were used for side entrances, the colonnades of the paraskenia must all have been closed by panels during performances, with the exception of the intervals used for entrances by actors; and a step or steps would have been required inside the paraskenia as well as inside the skene. The new ‘Lykourgan’ skene seems to have been two-storeyed, with a row of pillars along the length of the lower storey as supports for an upper floor (fig. 241). The upper storey may have been only half the depth of the ground floor, occupying only the area above the rear aisle of the ground floor (between the row of pillars and the back wall of the building). The flat roof of the one-storeyed front aisle would have provided a long narrow platform, on which the actors could appear on a higher level than formerly.44 This projecting platform was probably called the proskenion or ‘structure in front of the skene’; in a Delian inscription of 290 the word seems to be used in the same sense, to describe a one-storeyed wooden structure

in front of a two-storeyed wooden skene.45 In short, the theatre of Dionysos would now have had a two-aisled stagehouse of stone, the front aisle of which formed a ‘proskenion’ with a colonnaded facade and a flat roof,46 while above the rear aisle there was an upper storey, or episkenion, of wood. Older plays with a chorus could be performed on the low stage in front of the proskenion colonnade; productions of New Comedy would have taken place on the roof of the proskenion, with the wooden episkenion serving as the backdrop. The low wooden stage would have been erected only when needed; but no substantial provision was made for it, since it was assumed that all new productions would be written with performance on the new proskenion-stage in mind.47 In my view, this new dual-purpose stagehouse was inspired, like the projecting paraskenia, by experiments (perhaps going back to the earlier fourth century) with an earlier wooden skene. By the middle of the fourth century these experiments had proved so successful that the Lykourgan designers decided to erect a more substantial stagehouse, with provision for both types of performance. It is indeed quite possible that the row of bases for interior piers, which we have interpreted as supports for the front wall of the Lykourgan episkenion, were originally laid in conjunction with one of these earlier experiments.48 The new Athenian stagehouse, with its stone proskenion colonnade, was soon copied elsewhere in the Aegean world, for instance, in the theatre on Thasos (figs. 242–3), where the French excavators have found that the extant straight proskenion evidently replaced an earlier structure with paraskenia, and perhaps even earlier at Troy.49 Moreover, the series of inscriptions relating to work in the theatre at Delos proves the existence of a ‘proskenion’ of some sort there also, as early as 290.50 Of course, when the scene of action was shifted to the proskenion-stage, painted backdrops that had previously been mounted at ground level now had to be moved to the front wall of the new episkenion, or upper storey; and in fact the Delian inscription of 274 speaks of both upper and lower ‘skenai’ and ‘paraskenia.’ No doubt the backdrops were installed in large

Theatres and Stadia thyromata, like those of the Hellenistic episkenion in stone, at Oropos (fig. 246).51 In sum, the temporary nature of earlier wooden stagehouses had encouraged a good deal of experimentation. If an experiment proved successful, it could be incorporated in the next remodelling of the structure. No doubt Greek theatre production went through a series of experiments with more ‘realistic’ sets and more effective visual and acoustic arrangements. From time to time these experiments proved to be so superior to earlier methods of production that stagehouses might be completely remodelled to incorporate the new ideas, as suggested above for the theatre of Dionysos at Athens. The extant proskenion colonnade at Athens (fig. 232) has often been dated ca. 200;52 in fact, there is really no evidence to show when it was built, any more than there is for the laying of the row of bases inside the skene. The main argument for the mid-Hellenistic date is the fact that a stone proskenion was provided in the theatre at Peiraieus, the existence of which is attested epigraphically no later than ca. 160– 150. The Peiraieus theatre, it is argued, was modelled on the theatre of Dionysos at Athens, to which it is clearly related (fig. 247); the Peiraieus inscription, however, while providing a terminus ante quem for the existence of the theatre as a whole, does not mention the proskenion at all. Thus, while this structure can hardly be later than 150, it may have been built much earlier. I have argued elsewhere that the extant stone proskenion at Athens may have followed fairly quickly on the heels of the late-fourthcentury reconstruction, the columns from which were evidently reused as far as possible in the interest of economy. Thus, as far as we can tell from the available evidence, the Peiraieus stagehouse, which is closer in form to that of the late fourth century at Athens than to its Hellenistic successor, may have been built quite early in the Hellenistic period.53 Obviously once the scene of action had been removed from a low stage, just above the level of the orchestra, to the roof of a proskenion 2.5 m or more in height, the function of the projecting wings, or paraskenia, as a means of defining the lateral borders of the stage, would have been

103

eliminated. Thus the paraskenia of the stagehouse at Epidauros project only very slightly beyond the front of the proskenion (figs. 248–9); at Athens also, the projection of the paraskenia was reduced when the extant proskenion was built, if not before. At Trachones and Thasos, the Hellenistic proskenion colonnades extend in a straight line across the front of the skene (figs. 250a–b, 242–3);54 and the same is true of most Hellenistic theatres in Greece and Asia Minor. Indeed, the proskenion sometimes extends beyond the ends of the skene, if, as at Priene and Delos (figs. 251, 238), actors entering from the wings came on from the rear corners of the stage, rather than by ramps beside the parodoi, as at Epidauros. In fact, the proskenion stage with straight front represents the final phase of the development of the Greek stagehouse; thus, it was regarded by Vitruvius as typical of the Greek theatre.55 The date of the earliest extant proskenia in stone has been much disputed. Armin von Gerkan always maintained that the theatres at Epidauros and Priene already had stone proskenia as early as ca. 300 or soon after, and were simply remodelled in mid-Hellenistic times;56 and we have suggested above that the first proskenion-stage at Athens may have been even earlier. Von Gerkan’s dates for Epidauros and Priene now seem to have been substantially correct, and are confirmed by the evidence of the theatres at Miletos and elsewhere,57 and perhaps also by the Delian inscriptions of the second quarter of the third century. The raised stages of the late third and second centuries, for instance, at Delos and Oropos (figs. 237–8, 244– 6), simply continued a tradition established as much as a century earlier. At the same time, it is clear that many third-century proskenia were initially built in wood, as at Delos, and later reconstructed in stone; during these reconstructions the whole plan of the stagehouse might be revised, again as at Delos. Trachones in Attica, Epidauros, and Priene perhaps offer the first extant examples of substantial stone proskenia (figs. 250a, 249, 251), Epidauros still having vestigial paraskenia. The proskenion with straight facade may have appeared in early Hellenistic times in Asia Minor, where many new theatres were constructed during this period; the straight

104

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

proskenion at Thasos may have been inspired by one or other of the buildings in Asia Minor. In revivals of older plays actors of Hellenistic times may still have performed for a time in the orchestra; but by the late first century BC Vitruvius simply notes that ‘tragic and comic actors perform on the [high] stage (logeion), while other artists (choral singers and dancers) give their performances in the entire orchestra.’58 There is no serious disagreement about the history of Greek theatre architecture from ca. 200 onward, even at Athens. By this time stone proskenia were clearly the norm. In Asia Minor the first examples had appeared in the early third century; west of the Adriatic proskenia, whether of wood or stone, seem to occur in both Sicily and South Italy no later than the middle of the third century, and possibly even earlier.59 In Old Greece wooden proskenia were even older, probably having been introduced at Athens as early as 350–325. By 200, as Webster remarks, the troops of professional actors travelling from city to city (the ‘artists of Dionysos,’ or United Artists Ltd, as Arnold Toynbee called them) would have had a standardizing effect on practices of production; ‘it is difficult to believe that international artists performed in one theatre at ground level, in another on the roof (of the proskenion).’60 Yet there is still no general agreement with regard to the dates of the stone proskenion colonnades at Athens, Epidauros, and Priene. I have suggested above that the proskenion stylobate at Athens may be as early as the end of the fourth century; if there was already a proskenion colonnade in the Lykourgan stagehouse, the building of the extant proskenion would simply have involved dismantling this earlier structure, replacing it with a stone wall with doors, and reassembling the columns on the line of the extant stylobate. The dates of the proskenia at Epidauros and Priene, however, and the form of the episkenia above and behind them, are much more problematic. Many scholars have rejected Pausanias’s association of the Epidaurian theatre and Tholos with an architect named Polykleitos.61 Among other difficulties, work on the Tholos obviously started well before the middle of the fourth century; and

not even von Gerkan is prepared, on the basis of his and Muller-Wiener’s examination of the Ep¨ idaurian stagehouse in the early 1960s, to date that structure before 300, at the earliest. Thus the career of Pausanias’s Polykleitos would have to have spanned more than sixty years, if Pausanias’s statement is to be accepted. Of course, if we suppose with Dorpfeld that the interior ar¨ rangements of the Epidaurian Tholos, including the Corinthian columns, resulted from a change in design carried out around 330, much of this difficulty would disappear. Roux, however, regards Polykleitos’s connection with the Tholos as a fiction of Pausanias’s informants; and von Gerkan adopts the same view with regard to the theatre.62 These views may well be correct; yet there is neither invention of a ‘new’ architect, nor any inherent improbability,63 in believing that between ca. 335 and 290 an architect named Polykleitos (otherwise as unknown as Libon of Elis, designer of the temple of Zeus at Olympia)64 worked in the sanctuary at Epidauros. The name has good ancient authority; and we simply do not know enough of the building history of the Tholos to say that no work can have been done on it after 330, under the supervision of an architect who later in his career also designed the Epidaurian theatre.65 Pausanias may indeed have concluded on his own that this architect was the same person as the great Polykleitos of the fifth century, or as a sculptor of that name who lived during the fourth century. Yet nowhere does he say that such was the case. He believed (more or less correctly in at least one recent view)66 that the theatre was the work of a single architect and a single period; he also states that it exceeded all other Greek theatres in the harmony and symmetry of its proportions, and that the same architect designed the theatre and the Tholos in the sanctuary of Asklepios. All other opinions attributed to him are modern conjectures. Much more serious is the fact that Lucy Shoe Meritt, the outstanding authority on the development of Greek mouldings, has dated the mouldings of the Epidaurian proskenion to the earlier second century;67 von Gerkan, by contrast, dates the proskenia at both Epidauros and Priene ca. 300–280, further maintaining that both theatres had an early Hellenistic episkenion

Theatres and Stadia with a single central door.68 Unfortunately, there are no remains of the Epidaurian episkenion, and no real evidence for two periods of construction in the stone episkenion at Priene. Yet the episkenion problem may be less formidable than Dinsmoor, Broneer and others have suggested.69 Von Gerkan has shown that the early Hellenistic stagehouse at Epidauros did not have a completely closed back wall; across the back of the main room there was a stylobate supporting a row of columns or, more probably, rectangular piers. In the mid-Hellenistic reconstruction this stylobate was removed and replaced by a solid wall, presumably with one or more doors. Obviously this reconstruction could not have been carried out without dismantling everything above the level of the piers or columns. It is unlikely that such an expensive alteration would have been undertaken had there been a stone episkenion still in sound condition. Thus the episkenion must either have collapsed or else have been of wood and easily dismantled. We have already suggested the existence in the Lykourgan theatre at Athens of a stone proskenion colonnade with a wooden episkenion above the rear portion of the stagehouse; and we have noted that at Delos both proskenion and episkenion of the early third century were initially entirely of wood. At Epidauros also there may have been an early Hellenistic wooden episkenion, probably with several doors to the stage, instead of the single door proposed by von Gerkan. When the episkenion was subsequently rebuilt in stone, the piers and entablature at the back of the early skene were replaced by a solid wall. The front and end walls of the skene, however, which were already solid stonework, needed no alteration. In any event, whatever view one takes about the early Hellenistic episkenion at Epidauros, it seems clear from the surviving remains that the proskenion, ramp-walls, parodos-gates, and skene all date from the same period, since the preserved foundations actually bond together at some significant points. Von Gerkan concludes from this bonding that the walls in question were all early Hellenistic; since no earlier remains are known on the site, the existing remains must be those of the early Hellenistic

105

stagehouse. If we reject his view, we must either conclude that an early Hellenistic stagehouse has disappeared without a trace, or else that the mid-Hellenistic dismantling of the early Hellenistic skene was carried down to the foundations all around. The second hypothesis seems rather sweeping; and the first, while possible, nevertheless stumbles on the fact that the piers of the parodos-gates, which are built against the retaining walls of the auditorium, seem to be contemporary with those walls. On balance, it seems more likely that the early Hellenistic theatre did in fact have skene, proskenion, ramps, and parodos-gates more or less in the present form, whether or not some of the extant remains date from a mid-Hellenistic reconstruction.70 If the existence of an early Hellenistic wooden episkenion, attested by inscriptions at Delos, is also accepted at Epidauros and Athens, there is no good reason to question the existence of a similar feature at Priene. It is true, as Dinsmoor states, that at Priene the remains of the episkenion (figs. 251, 253–4), of the external stairway at the west end of the skene, and of the interior stone stairs and well or shaft all seem to have been built after the skene itself. The proskenion colonnade, which has no close structural connection with the skene, might be either earlier or later in the history of the theatre. Yet the suggestion that the early Hellenistic skene may have had a proskenion of some sort in front, with a wooden episkenion above to serve as a backdrop for the proskenion-stage, does no violence to the evidence of the extant remains. Dinsmoor and others acknowledge that wooden proskenion-stages, presumably backed by an episkenion, were quite common during the third century; and no scholar questions the existence of the stone proskenion-colonnade at Thasos during this period. Thus, whatever the date of the existing proskenion in the stagehouse at Priene, there could have been some sort of stone proskenion there as early as ca. 300, as von Gerkan maintained. In this connection, it should be emphasized that a late date for the extant structure is just as much unsupported by actual evidence as von Gerkan’s proposed early date. Moreover, even if one or both of the proskenia at Epidauros and Priene should ultimately prove

106

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

to have been built a century or more later than von Gerkan suggested, these structures could still be simply reconstructions, ca. 200, of existing stagehouses, rather than completely new additions. In addition, attempts to date these proskenia on stylistic or typological grounds should take account of all elements that permit this sort of analysis, and conclusions regarding the overall development should be supported by a chronology firmly based on external evidence. For example, it could be argued that Shoe accepted a date in the first half of the third century for elements of the Priene proskenion only on the basis of von Gerkan’s dating of that structure, whereas her second-century date for the proskenion at Epidauros was based on a prior conviction that the Epidaurian structure belonged to middle or late Hellenistic times. In these circumstances we should look at architectural evidence other than mouldings, whether of Ionic or of Doric character. Thus I believe that the capitals of the Ionic half-columns in the proskenion at Epidauros would fit quite comfortably into an early Hellenistic context. The eye-to-eye width of the volutes, and the form and relative heights of echinus, volute-channel, and abacus, seem to me to be most closely matched, among the Ionic capitals of the ‘Argive’ style illustrated by Roux, by those from the Aspis at Argos and the ‘Stoa of Kotys’ at Epidauros, and to be typologically earlier than the capitals of the North Propylaea or of Temple L at Epidauros (neither, in my view, earlier than ca. 250).71 At Priene, the ‘architectural’ case for an early Hellenistic date for the extant proskenion is perhaps even stronger, quite apart from Shoe’s conclusions based on the profiles of the mouldings. The relative heights of the extant architrave and frieze (fig. 254), and the proportions of triglyphs and metopes, permit a detailed comparison with the corresponding members from several other Prienian buildings, ranging in date from the late fourth century to late Hellenistic times (the shaped stoa of the agora, the North, or Sacred, Stoa, and the stoa on the stadium terrace). In Hellenistic polytriglyphal entablatures, there is both a fairly steady increase in the width of the triglyphs in proportion to that of the metopes

and (as also in fourth-century monotriglyphal systems) a decrease in the height of the architrave vis-`a-vis that of the frieze. From this point of view, the entablature of the Prienian proskenion seems to be close to that of the -shaped stoa of the agora, and appreciably earlier than the other two Doric structures. Moreover, a comparison with other Maiander-valley Doric buildings, such as the Harbour Stoa at Miletos and the Agora stoas at Magnesia, leads to a similar conclusion.72 I therefore believe that von Gerkan’s chronology for both the Epidaurian and the Prienian stagehouses must now be regarded as correct. Yet even von Gerkan was unwilling to accept the full implications of his conclusions, at least as they concerned the question of the scene of action in Greek drama in early Hellenistic times. As a matter of fact, von Gerkan, in common with most other archaeologists, and even at times literary critics, was more concerned with the evidence against Dorpfeld’s theory that the ¨ proskenion-stage did not appear in Greek theatres before the first century, than with the literary evidence in favour of the transference of action to a raised stage at the beginning of New Comedy. As a result, von Gerkan maintained that the roof of the proskenion, both at Epidauros and at Priene, was used exclusively by actors who were supposed to be appearing on the rooftop or on some other higher level, in contrast with the normal scene of action in the orchestra. He therefore believed that only one doorway was required in the front wall of the episkenion. However, if the flat roof of the proskenion was itself the normal scene of action, at least three doors would have been needed to meet the requirements of many of the plays. Indeed, the early wooden episkenia that we have proposed above may even have had three large openings, of the type later described as thyromata, rather than simple doors. In that event, extant episkenia and thyromata in stone, whatever their period, would simply have reproduced the earlier wooden structures in a more permanent form. Their development in fact would exactly parallel the earlier replacement of the wooden skene, and later of wooden paraskenia, by permanent structures in stone.

Theatres and Stadia The most important result of von Gerkan’s and Muller-Wiener’s investigation of the Epi¨ daurian stagehouse is to have established convincingly the contemporaneity of ramps, footings for parodos-gates, skene, and proskenion with paraskenia. If this contemporaneity is accepted, and if, as von Gerkan maintained, the footings and piers of the parodos-gates were contemporary with the retaining wall of the auditorium, we can get rid of an early Hellenistic stone proskenion only by lowering the date of the construction of the koilon, whether to ca. 250 or later. Once the scene of the action had been removed to the roof of the proskenion, a large orchestra was no longer necessary; thus most Hellenistic orchestras enclosed considerably less than a full circle. In Vitruvius’s ‘Greek theatre,’ as in the theatre at Priene (fig. 251), the skene was moved closer to the auditorium; the front wall of the skene was now tangent to the circle of the orchestra, a segment of which was cut off by the projecting proskenion. The advantages of bringing stage and actors closer to the spectators are obvious. Yet the height of the Hellenistic proskenion-stage was not reduced, probably because it had to be high enough to allow Vitruvius’s ‘other artists’ to enter the orchestra not only from the side-passages, or parodoi, but also from the skene (through doors in the facade of the proskenion). This relatively high proskenion required a fairly large interval between it and the lowest tiers of the seats; otherwise spectators in these seats would have had only a truncated view of the actors on the stage.73 Thus stagehouse and koilon continued to be separated by open parodoi. Greek designers, concerned as always with practical convenience rather than with theoretical schemes of architectural unity, never tried to combine stagehouse, orchestra, and koilon into a single unified structure of the type found in Roman theatres. Nor were the Greek architects interested in treating the facade of the episkenion as a field for the elaborate architectural decoration so often found on the Roman scaenae frons; for facades of the Roman type would have made it difficult, if not impossible, to change the scenery from one group of plays to the next. The upper

107

storey of the Hellenistic skene, as far as we know from surviving remains, always consisted of a series of broad stone ‘piers’ separated by wide openings, or thyromata. These openings were normally filled with painted panels, often representing the facades of houses; there must have been practicable doors in the painted facades, to permit entry of actors from indoors. Probably sets representing interiors were sometimes set up just inside the openings of the thyromata, with wooden panels behind to provide sounding boards for the actors’ voices; such sets could easily be masked by curtains until required for particular scenes. A mosaic by Dioskourides from Pompeii, now in Naples (fig. 255), seems to represent an interior set for a scene from Menander’s Women at Breakfast;74 a Roman Imperial relief representing a comic scene, also in Naples, perhaps illustrates the masking of a set when not in use (fig. 256). The only parts of Aegean Greek theatres that were normally given any detailed architectural treatment were the parodoi leading to the orchestra, and the facade of the proskenion (and paraskenia, if any). Several examples are known of stone parodos-gates. Sometimes, as at Priene (fig. 251), the gates were quite simple. At Epidauros, the gates were higher and more elaborately decorated, and were set well back from the entrance to the orchestra (figs. 248–9); they had two openings, one spanning the parodos, the other the foot of the ramp leading up to the proskenion.75 The earliest proskenion facades in stone seem to have consisted of free-standing Doric columns, as in the theatre at Trachones in Attica, probably of the late fourth century (fig.250). We have suggested above that there was a similar free-standing colonnade in the Lykourgan theatre at Athens, where the paraskenia too are thought to have been partly colonnaded; and free-standing columns were used in the proskenion of the (probably) early Hellenistic theatre at Peiraieus. The columns in these proskenia were modest in size; the main requirement seems to have been that the soffit of the architrave be high enough above the stylobate to permit actors, in costumes with high masks, to enter the orchestra from the interior of the skene-proskenion com-

108

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

plex. Yet if the intercolumnar spaces were to be used as practicable doors, they had also to be fairly wide in proportion to the height of the columns. As a result, the Doric frieze of the proskenion always had at least two triglyphs over the intercolumnar intervals.76 Hellenistic architects probably considered the width of such spans excessive in relation to the size of the supporting members. Furthermore, practicable doors and fixed wooden panels were harder to mount between circular columns than between flat jambs or uprights. Most architects therefore preferred heavier members, consisting of half-columns attached to square or rectangular piers. Such members provided sturdier support for the heavy architrave beams without increasing the diameter of the columnar element, and also facilitated the mounting of doors or painted wooden panels. As we have seen, such ‘composite’ members might be used, for much the same reasons, in the upper storeys of stoas.77 Indeed, these composite members evidently originated in small Ionic upper orders surmounting a larger Doric order, as in the upper interior order of the temple of Zeus at Nemea and the upper exterior order of the Harbour Stoa at Perachora, both built during the last third of the fourth century. In these two-tiered schemes the upper order was lower than that of the main floor, but had to follow the same axial spacing, thus at times stretching the spans of the upper entablature beyond the limits of safety. It may be that such earlier examples of Ionic half-columns attached to piers suggested the use of similar Ionic members in the proskenia of theatres. At any rate, a few Ionic proskenia are known, for instance, at Epidauros, Elis, and Dodona, and also in the third-century proskenion at Syracuse in Sicily.78 Yet the use of Ionic members in such contexts raised problems that could be avoided if the half-columns were Doric. It was clearly not desirable to make the Ionic bases broader than the foot of the piers to which they were attached. Such a projection would have been rather unsightly, as can been seen in the cella of the temple at Bassai; and the projection of bases and capitals into an intercolumnar space that was sometimes used as a doorway would have had practical disadvantages. Normally, therefore, the half-columns of Hel-

lenistic proskenia were Doric. The proskenion colonnades of Oropos and Priene, both rebuilt, or partly rebuilt, in modern times (figs. 244, 254), are probably the most familiar of many examples.79 These Doric proskenia were decorative without being as visually distracting as the more elaborate forms of Ionic; nor did they involve as much time and expense as the carving of a series of Ionic bases and capitals. They are in fact typical of the practical character of Hellenistic secular architecture, in which the use of architectural ornament was generally determined by considerations of economy and overall appropriateness. Vitruvius recommends the provision of a garden-peristyle behind the stagehouse of the theatre;80 several Roman or Italic examples of such colonnaded courts are known, for instance, at Pompeii (fig. 379), in the theatres of Pompey and Balbus at Rome, and at Ostia. There may have been similar peristyles associated with theatres in the great cities of the Hellenistic East; but there are no known extant examples. Yet there had been a stoa along the back of the skene at Athens from the end of the fifth or early fourth century onward; this stoa is actually mentioned by Vitruvius along with the Stoa of Eumenes to the west of the theatre. Vitruvius also refers to such colonnades at Smyrna and Tralles.81 Moreover, both at Sikyon and at Ephesos there was a stoa along the back of the skene,82 while at Samothrace a long Hellenistic stoa was built on the top of the ridge above the auditorium.83 At Pergamon, a wide terrace extended both north and south of the orchestra; at the northern end of this terrace stood the temple of Dionysos, while the long southward section formed a colonnaded avenue leading to the theatre. Since a permanent skene would have blocked both easy passage and the view along the terrace, the Hellenistic stagehouse was a removable wooden structure, supported on great posts set in stone shafts sunk in the floor of the terrace. When the theatre was not in use, the whole structure could be disassembled and stored; the openings of the shafts were presumably then covered with stone slabs.84 We have already noted that, at least as early as the fourth century, troops of Greek perform-

Theatres and Stadia ers in South Italy, known as phlyakes, presented comedies on wooden stages raised several steps above the ground (at least four, perhaps more).85 Tragedies may sometimes have been performed on a similar stage, apparently with quite an elaborate architectural background in wood, if we may judge from the scenes shown on South Italian vases. The terracotta plaque now in Naples shows the front of a stagehouse decorated with two tiers of columns supporting a pediment (fig. 234); a low stage in front of this facade seems to have been closed at either end by tower-like paraskenia, also two-storeyed.86 As we shall see in a later chapter, this low South Italian stage, erected in front of a stagehouse with an elaborate architectural facade, provided the inspiration both for the stagehouses of earlier Roman wooden theatres and for their stone successors. Yet the popularity of Attic tragedy and comedy among the Western Greeks (especially in Sicily), and the standardizing influence of the Hellenistic Actors’ Guilds, encouraged the adoption in the western Mediterranean of many of the patterns of Aegean theatre production. Representations of dramatic scenes on South Italian vases, together with terracotta figures of actors in stage dress, show that the costumes and masks of Western Greek actors, including those of the phlyakes troops, followed the Attic tradition very closely.87 Moreover, many of the scenes on vases have been certainly or plausibly identified with known Athenian plays. As early as the later third century there may have been a local Actors’ Guild at Syracuse, where its existence in the early second century is in any event attested by inscriptions; the local guild at Rhegion perhaps goes back to the later third century; and Livius Andronicus of Tarentum, who brought Greek drama to Rome in 240, may have been a member of the Tarentine guild.88 It is therefore not surprising that many Western Greek theatres also reflect traditions of theatre architecture developed in the Aegean world. In the fourth century there was a wooden skene with paraskenia at Herakleia Minoa in Sicily; a high proskenion and paraskenia were provided in the rock-cut theatre at Syracuse, built dur-

109

ing the third quarter of the third century; and both the high proskenion stage and paraskenia are found in the Hellenistic form of the theatres at Tyndaris, Segesta, and Pompeii.89 The paraskenia at Segesta (fig. 259) and Pompeii, perhaps also at Tyndaris (fig. 257), have been thought to have risen two storeys above the proskenion, thus providing an effective frame for the high proskenion stage; however, twostoreyed, rather than three-storeyed, paraskenia are also possible. At Segesta, in order to improve visibility for spectators sitting at the ends of the curving tiers of seats, the front walls of the upper storeys of the paraskenia receded obliquely from the outer to the inner front corners; at Pompeii, for similar reasons, the width of the paraskenia was reduced toward the front by making use of oblique inward-facing walls. The terracotta model in the Naples Museum also represents high paraskenia in association with a low South Italian stage (fig. 234); this combination later passed over into the Roman tradition of theatre architecture, whereas in most Eastern Hellenistic theatres paraskenia were abandoned.90 Presumably the survival of paraskenia in theatres in the western Mediterranean was due to the scenic conventions of specifically Western types of drama, such as the phlyakes plays. In fact, in Hellenistic Syracuse special provision seems to have been made for the erection of a low wooden stage with wooden backdrop (scaenae frons), in front of the high proskenion stage. When this ‘Western Greek’ stage was in place, the proskenion would have been completely hidden; but the whole structure could be removed and stored on days when the proskenion stage was being used.91 Probably in the western Mediterranean wooden stagehouses, as at Herakleia Minoa, were less a measure of economy than a means of providing for both types of stage. In the end, the low stage became the norm in Italic and Roman theatres. At Pompeii, the high Hellenistic stage was later replaced by a low Italic pulpitum (fig. 379); here and elsewhere the elaborate colonnaded backdrops, which had formerly been constructed in wood, were now translated into stone. A two-storeyed scaenae

110

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

frons in stone, with paraskenia, might also be used with a high Hellenistic proskenion stage, as in the theatre at Segesta, which may be as late as ca. 100.92 By this time, Sicily had been a Roman province for well over a century; yet it is clear that the two traditions of stage design, one Aegean, the other Western, survived in Sicily and Magna Graecia to the very end of the Hellenistic period. An often-neglected aspect of Hellenistic theatre architecture is its contribution to the development of arch-and-vault construction in preRoman times. M. Bieber regards the theatre at Segesta as essentially a Roman Republican building; yet even as late as ca. 100 her alternative designation, Hellenistic Italic (or, as I prefer to say, Italo-Hellenistic) seems preferable, especially in Sicily and Magna Graecia. Certainly there is no reason to think that the vaulted underground passage, leading from the interior of the stagehouse to the centre of the orchestra, was in any way foreign to the Hellenistic tradition; for similar passages have been found in Greek theatres east of the Adriatic, at Eretria, Sikyon, and Magnesia-on-the-Maiander.93 Moreover, none of the other vaults is as impressive in construction as the stone vault under the stage building at Eretria; this vault provided the only access to the area under the proskenion stage after the orchestra had been excavated to its present level, probably during an early Hellenistic remodelling.94 Arched ground-storey openings are also found in the skenai at Magnesia and Tyndaris, in the latter case perhaps not before ca. 100, in the former perhaps as early as the end of the fourth century, by which time arched openings on an even larger scale had been used in the gates of the nearby city of Priene.95 These examples of arch-and-vault construction are modest in scale; the use of massive stone vaults as underpinnings for sections of the auditorium is another matter. Such construction has usually been regarded as an indication of Roman date, even when it occurs in carefully fitted ashlar masonry, without use of mortar. Yet ‘Roman’ is a rather vague and imprecise term when used of monuments in the Aegean and Asia Minor. As a chronological indicator it should probably

be restricted to the Roman Imperial age, that is, from Augustan times onward; in speaking of architectural or sculptural style, even greater caution is necessary. The French now assign the barrel-vaulted passages of the Letoon theatre near Xanthos to the late Hellenistic period; but the outer end of the passage, framed by pilasters supporting a Doric entablature, is perhaps indicative of Roman influence (fig. 63). Yet there are certainly examples of vaulted passages under the seats or embankments of stadia from early Hellenistic times onward; and T. Boyd has argued that the vaulted passages beneath some parts of the seats in the theatre at Alinda in western Asia Minor are also Hellenistic. Thus it may well be asked whether other examples of vaulted underpinnings in the theatres of Asia Minor, as at Aigai and Assos, may not also be Hellenistic, or at least have had Hellenistic antecedents.96 Even if the vaults at Assos and Aigai, like those in the Xanthian Letoon theatre, were due to Roman influence, it remains true that arches and vaults became increasingly common in the Aegean world from the time of Philip II and Alexander – especially in contexts where there was no question of conflict with the columnar orders. By ca. 200 engineers such as Philo of Byzantion were clearly familiar with both the theoretical basis and the practical advantages of arched construction.97 In these circumstances Hellenistic architects could surely have recognized that supporting some of the seats in the theatre on vaulted underpinnings was much less laborious than sinking virtually the entire koilon into a hollow hillside. Of course, this tentative use of vaulting was still a long way from the construction of an entire theatre on level ground, as in the theatres of Pompey and Marcellus at Rome, to say nothing of the immense auditorium of the Colosseum. Probably not even Roman engineers would have considered such projects feasible before the development of concrete as a fast, cheap, and durable building material. Nevertheless, the first steps may well have been taken by Hellenistic architects, even though the Romans later went far beyond what would have seemed either prudent or possible to their Greek predecessors.

Theatres and Stadia

111

B. STADIA If architecture is indeed to be ‘distinguished from mere building,’98 the Greek theatres discussed in the preceding pages were not really works of architecture before the early Hellenistic age. Down to the time of Lykourgos, such stagehouses as did exist were built largely or entirely of wood; and the raising of tiers of stone seats on the hollow slopes of a hill is surely ‘mere building’ – especially when the shape of the auditorium was so often determined by the contours of the site and the availability of funds, rather than in accordance with theoretical principles of design.99 These observations are even more pertinent in the case of Greek stadia; and as we shall see in other chapters, they also have some relevance to the study of gymnasia, palaistrai, baths, and covered halls. In fact, we here touch once more upon an aspect of Greek antiquity that seems to set the Greeks apart from most of their Roman and their modern successors: the ability to achieve quite remarkable results without what contemporary phrase-makers would probably describe as an ‘elaborate physical and technological infrastructure.’ Even if climatic inequalities could be entirely eliminated, it is difficult to imagine any modern Western state equalling the Classical Greek achievement in drama and athletics with facilities as ‘primitive’ as those of Classical Greek theatres, palaistrai, and stadia, or conducting its political affairs in surroundings as austere as the Old Bouleuterion and the Pnyx assembly-place at Athens. It is true, as Horace remarked, that in Republican times ‘conquered Greece took her fierce conqueror captive’;100 yet it was all too often the physical attractions of Hellenistic culture that captivated the Roman conquerors, few of whom ever really understood either the magnitude or the basis of the earlier Classical achievement. Thus many Roman stadia were certainly outstanding achievements of ‘architecture,’ whereas their Greek equivalents in most cases hardly reached even the level of ‘mere building’; yet by the time the Roman monuments were erected, athletic contests had become mere travesties of the ideals of earlier Olympic festivals. As so often, Hellenistic stadia fall somewhere between

Classical Greek austerity and Roman magnificence. Although, as at Olympia, much of the earlier simplicity was retained, Hellenistic architects did try to give the stadium a more monumental aspect, especially with respect to the entrances, but also at times in the spectator area. The Greek word stadion originally denoted a unit of measure; one ‘stade’ was 600 feet in length, and the one-stade foot race was the standard track event at Greek athletic festivals. Thus Greek running tracks normally measured 600 ft, or one stadion, from starting line to finishing line, with some additional level and open area at each end. In later times, when spectator areas were provided around the actual running track, the name of the track, the stadion, was applied to the whole complex of track and spectator area combined, just as the word theatron came to include the orchestra and stagehouse as well as the auditorium. It might seem more appropriate to consider Greek stadia together with other buildings connected with athletic contests, that is, gymnasia and palaistrai. Yet from the structural point of view the Greek stadium had nothing in common with the gymnasium and palaistra. In early stadia, as in early theatres, all that was required was a (more or less) level running track and a spectator area from which the athletic contests could be viewed; as already noted, it was only in Hellenistic times that some stadia were provided with ‘entrance-gates’ at one end of the running track. Such gates, like the parodos-gates in the theatre, were really a form of decorative entranceway, and are briefly considered in the chapter dealing with entranceways of all types. In Roman stadia, such as that at Aphrodisias, or the Stadium of Domitian at Rome (the remains of which lie beneath the later buildings enclosing the Piazza Navona), the structural resemblance to the theatre and amphitheatre is even more obvious than in Greek stadia and theatres. The most famous of Greek stadia, at Olympia, remained simple in character throughout its history (fig. 260). Even in its final form, the spectators stood or sat on earth embankments, although there were a few rows of stone seats for

112

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the judges halfway along the south side of the track. The embankment on the north side of the running track was partly raised against the natural slopes of the hillside; those on the south and at the short east and west ends were artificial. The barrel-vaulted stone passage, about 3.65 m wide and 32 m long (fig. 261), leading from the sacred Altis, or precinct, of Zeus into the western end of the stadium, has traditionally been assigned to the late Hellenistic period. However, similar vaulted passages have since been found at both Nemea and Epidauros (figs. 262, 264); these passages date from a period appreciably older than that accepted for the Olympia vault. As in the Letoon theatre near Xanthos, these vaulted passages provided a suitable entranceway, without entirely eliminating the seating space above the passage. The late Hellenistic dating of the Olympia passage seems to rest on no very firm basis; in fact, it may have been built at any time after about 325. The Corinthian entrance-gate just outside its western end, however, can hardly be earlier than ca. 200–150 (fig. 131).101 The Olympic Stadium that we see today has been restored as far as possible to its ancient form.102 It was actually the last in a series of three stadia, and was laid out only in the middle of the fourth century. The first stadium was a good deal further west, with the finishing lines inside the Altis, close to the great altar of Zeus. The western end of the second stadium also lay inside the eastern border of the Altis, in the area taken over by the Echo Stoa. About 350, when the eastern limits of the sacred precinct were defined by the planning and commencement of the Echo Stoa, the stadium was moved eastward to its present location. In the two earlier stadia provision for the spectators was presumably even more modest in character than in the final form. Of course, the presence or absence of stone seats has no bearing on capacity; the extant stadium probably provided places for some 45,000–50,000 spectators, rather more than the number that could be accommodated in the Colosseum at Rome. The floods of the Alpheios river have long since swept away all traces of the Olympic hippodrome, or chariot-racing arena; but it was pre-

sumably merely an enlarged version of the stadium. At Rome too, the spectators in the Circus Maximus (in the valley between the Palatine and the Aventine) may at first have stood or sat on the slopes of the hills to the north and south. By the time the Circus Flaminius was built in the Campus Martius, during the later third century, the Circus Maximus was already provided with some wooden bleachers, like those in the early Athenian theatral areas.103 The earliest seats of the Flaminius were probably supported on earth embankments, like those of the stadium at Olympia; there is no evidence at this time for extensive use of vaulted underpinnings. The Olympic stadium was eventually closed by straight embankments at both ends; the straight-ended arrangement also occurs at Epidauros and Miletos. The stadium at Epidauros was (fig. 264) laid out, as so often in the Greek world, in a natural hollow excavated to the desired shape; thus very little was needed in the way of artificial embankments. Again, most of the spectators stood or sat on earth slopes, although tiers of stone seats were provided in the central portion of each long side. Along the sides of the running track were stone posts at intervals of 100 feet.104 Many, perhaps most, stadia of later times were rounded at one end, as in the final form of the Panathenaic Stadium at Athens and the stadium at Delphi (figs. 265–6); the other end was normally open, as in the original form of the present Olympic stadium, to provide a ‘processional entrance’ for judges and contestants. The stadium associated with the sanctuary of Zeus at Nemea has been excavated and studied in detail by the American excavators. Here, too, the stadium lay partly in a natural hollow, between two spurs extending northward from the Evangelistria Hill;105 in this case the closed southern end of the stadium was semicircular. The earth excavated to produce the curve at the southern end was used to form a terrace over 8 m high, on which the northern one-third of the running track was laid out; this terrace had no retaining wall, and has long since been eroded away. Around the curved end and along the sides of the track a water channel, with settling basins at intervals, provided for drinking water. Outside the channel a lower paved area

Theatres and Stadia evidently served for drainage of rainwater, while outside this area again, and raised slightly above it, was a paved ‘sidewalk’ at the foot of the earth embankments. Stone posts were set on either side of the track at more or less every 100 feet; the spacing of these posts suggests that the foot-unit at Nemea was 0.296 m, as also in the stadium at Delphi. The track sloped very slightly downward from south to north, no doubt to keep the water flowing in the water channel; although the slope was only about one in almost ninety, the cumulative drop was almost 2 m. There were stone seats at the bottom of the embankment on the west side of the stadium, and others on the east side; one or both of these groups of seats were doubtless for the judges, although one block could have served as a proedria, or seats of honour; around the southern semicircle tiers of seats were irregularly hewn in the soft rock. The seating capacity of the stadium is estimated to have been about 40,000. Some 20 m north of the western judges’ proedria, a passage sloped down to the western end of the vaulted tunnel, 36.35 m long,106 that passed under the western seating embankment and connected with the Sacred Way leading to the temple of Zeus, some 400 m to the northwest. The excavators date the tunnel in the late fourth century, attributing the use of vaulting to the influence of Macedonian architectural practice, and associating the construction of the tunnel with Kassander’s presidency over the Nemean Games in 315.107 The Panathenaic stadium at Athens may have been the first stadium to be provided with a large number of stone seats, built in poros stone, probably ca. 325 under the administration of the orator Lykourgos.108 It is not known how much in the way of stone seating was provided at this time; in any case, the whole stadium was refinished in marble by Herodes Atticus, in the second century AD.109 The reconstruction of the stadium for the first modern Olympiad in 1896 (fig. 265) has unfortunately rendered subsequent detailed investigation of the earliest remains quite impossible; but it seems likely that the stone seating provided by Lykourgos was much less extensive than the later work of Herodes.

113

The stadium above the precinct of Apollo at Delphi was probably laid out in the early third century, more or less along its present lines (fig. 266). Here again, the spectator area was later rebuilt by Herodes Atticus, in the third quarter of the second century AD; however, the Hellenistic terrace-wall on the southern, or downhill, side of the track, together with the limited capacity of the existing seats (about 6500), suggests that the Roman reconstruction reproduced the Hellenistic arrangement. Due to the need for artificial embankments and a retaining wall on the south side, there were fewer rows of seats here than on the natural underpinnings on the north. The extant entrance-gates are Roman, but an arched Hellenistic entrance is attested epigraphically.110 Until quite recently little close consideration had been given to the problems that arose in longer races, in which the athletes had to go back and forth along the length of the one-stade track. Much new light has been cast on this topic by S.G. Miller’s research, prompted by the excavation of the stadium at Nemea, and by the discovery of lane-markers and a -shaped aphesis, or starting gates, in the xystos of the gymnasium at Amphipolis.111 There is no evidence that Greek architects ever considered the use of vaulted underpinnings beneath the tiers of seats on the downhill side of a stadium built on a slope, such as we find, for example, in the Roman stadium at Aspendos. In such situations they either reduced the number of rows on the downhill side, as at Delphi, or else omitted them altogether, as at Priene (fig. 114), where the graded slope of the hill on the north side of the running track, with some stone seats in the central section, provided the only area for spectators. We do not know whether Hellenistic designers ever experimented with ramping vaults, as an alternative to earth embankments, for supporting the tiers of seats in a stadium built on level ground. A good example of such vaulting still survives at Perge in Pamphylia (figs. 268–9). The stadium at Perge is normally regarded as a structure of Roman date; and this view is doubtless correct, although there seems to be no compelling evidence in support of it. At Perge, and also at Side, further east along the Pamphylian coast, vaulting was

114

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

employed on a large scale in the construction of the city walls;112 and on the acropolis at Lindos on Rhodes the vaults supporting the extension of the lower terrace, whether or not due to the influence of Roman architectural practice, have been dated ca. 100 BC or a little later, that is, to a period that may still, at least in the Aegean and Asia Minor, be regarded as Hellenistic rather than Roman from the technical viewpoint. In fact, the whole question of the construction of Hellenistic stadia needs a good deal more investigation. As we have seen earlier in this chapter, it is now quite clear that some use was made of stone-vaulted underpinnings in the theatres of Hellenistic Asia Minor. The extension of this idea to the construction of stadia involves no inherent improbability, and is attested on a small scale at the east end of the stadium at Miletos, where, however, the stadium of Hellenistic times was almost entirely rebuilt in the Roman period.113 Vaulting was used extensively in mainland Greek stadia, in the entrance passages at Olympia and Epidauros, and in the much longer example at Nemea; such usage is even more likely east of the Aegean, for the major structural innovations of Hellenistic architecture clearly took place in Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt, rather than in Greece. The possibility of direct Roman influence on late Hellenistic structural practice cannot of course be excluded. Yet the theory of Roman intervention would be more plausible if we were dealing with examples of concrete vaulting faced with opus incertum, such as we find in the Sullan terraces at Praeneste and Terracina. As far as material is

concerned, the masonry vaults of the theatres in the Xanthos Letoon (fig. 63) and at Alinda and Aigai, in the stadium at Perge (figs. 268–9), and in the lower terrace of the Acropolis at Lindos114 all belong in the Hellenistic tradition, and have very little in common with Roman work in Italy. In fact the Hellenistic tradition of ashlar masonry clearly survived in some parts of Asia Minor well into Roman Imperial times, presumably because it had proved so satisfactory that there was no good reason to discard it in favour of mortarwork.115 Future investigations, then, may well show that the existing stadium at Perge, even though of Roman date, was in some sense descended from earlier examples of Hellenistic times. In this connection, it should be remembered that the Roman experiment, which made possible the construction of the vaulted underpinnings of Pompey’s theatre at Rome, in general took place within the framework of an Italo-Hellenistic tradition. What makes these experiments increasingly Italic, or Roman, rather than Hellenistic, is the use of concrete, not that of vaulting. For some stonevaulted structures in Asia Minor, the case for Roman date or Roman influence still awaits conclusive proof, except where there is clear epigraphic or other external evidence supporting it. Failing such evidence, conventional dates in the Roman Imperial period often rest on no firmer foundation than a series of assumptions that are now clearly at variance with established archaeological facts. It would be regrettable if outworn assumptions continued indefinitely to blind us to the very real innovations and achievements of the architects of the Hellenistic age.

6 Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths

It may seem at first glance that the treatment of gymnasia, palaistrai, and baths in a single chapter is more appropriate to the history of Roman than of Classical or Hellenistic Greek architecture. For example, Vitruvius deals with thermae, or baths, and palaestrae one after another, in Book 5 of the De Architectura;1 and his accounts of both types of building, as well as the section on the bathing facilities associated with Roman palaestrae,2 were obviously conceived more in Italic than in Greek terms. Yet the inclusion in the Vitruvian account of elements originating west of the Adriatic notwithstanding, it remains true that in these areas, as elsewhere, the Hellenistic tradition was an essential intermediate step between Classical Greece and late Republican and early Imperial Rome. Despite the absence of any Hellenistic examples of the use of the word hypokausis and its derivatives, the use by Latin writers of Greek terms such as gymnasium, palaestrae, thermae, and hypocausis/hypocaustum is best explained by assuming that the architectural schemes and forms described by these terms were inherited from the Hellenistic world, with most of the basic development already completed.3 Roman or Italic contributions were largely a matter of refinement, modification, and expansion of the Hellenistic heritage.4 Although there are few important examples of Hellenistic warm baths associated with the gymnasium and palaistra, ‘public’ bathing facilities in these establishments and elsewhere clearly became steadily more elaborate and extensive dur-

ing the Hellenistic period. The hypocaust system, in which some of the rooms in a bathing establishment were heated by means of hot air circulating beneath the floors, was essentially a Hellenistic development. Presumably, Hellenistic architects and engineers described bathing establishments with this kind of heating as thermai. The Romans took over the terms thermae and hypocaustum because they already had a specific and readily understood technical meaning. What Roman engineers added was an elaboration of the system, by suspending concrete-andtile floors of entire rooms on brick piers, and by embedding a large number of vertical terracotta heat-flues in the structure of the walls, immediately behind the stone facing or veneer. The more complex and sophisticated Roman systems of heating had no real Hellenistic counterparts, and even false floors suspended on piers evidently had no technical Greek name; hence the use of such Latin technical terms as suspensurae and tubi. Similarly, the idea of building sweating-rooms on a circular plan, to ensure an even temperature throughout and to avoid ‘cold corners,’ is already present in Greek baths;5 and the circular plan and thick walls were also used for cold rooms, no doubt in order to help keep the temperature inside the room constant despite changes in the air temperature outside. On the other hand, it was Italic, if not actually Roman, architects who devised the double layer of vaulting for rectangular rooms to provide a vapour-

116

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

barrier, and developed sweat-baths with domed roof and central oculus, the opening or closing of which by means of a suspended bronze disc permitted close control of the temperature (and humidity) of the room below.6 The association of baths with the gymnasium or palaistra is already firmly established by Hellenistic times; but the origin of the gymnasium and palaistra, as clearly defined architectural types, is much more difficult to determine. The earlier history of gymnasia and palaistrai, and to some extent also of loutra, or baths, is known to us chiefly from literary, epigraphic, and monumental evidence belonging to the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Yet an accurate assessment of the Hellenistic and Roman contribution is impossible without first determining whether, and to what extent, buildings for athletic training and instruction had already acquired a clear-cut architectural form by, say, the middle decades of the fourth century BC. Fortunately both Greek gymnasia and Greek bath-buildings have been studied in detail by French scholars: the former by J. Delorme, the latter by R. Ginouv`es.7 In addition, several individual buildings that had been previously excavated have received final publication, and new examples have been published in both categories.8 Inevitably, these publications have led to modification, as well as amplification, of the conclusions of earlier scholars, such as those in Schneider’s article in Pauly-Wissowa;9 moreover, Delorme subsequently published a brief account of the subject of gymnasia, and the overall picture has recently been reviewed, briefly by Yaras¸, at length by Wacker.10 The pages that follow are heavily indebted to Delorme and Ginouv`es, whose broad general studies of athletic and bath buildings remain the starting point for any discussions, certainly until a much larger body of closely dated monuments becomes available; however, the significance of later studies and discoveries has also been considered.11 It is in this last respect that Wacker’s work is especially valuable. Both Schneider and Delorme noted that while a site for practising track (races) and field (boxing, wrestling, jumping, etc.) events was an essential requirement for gymnastic or athletic

training, provision of a formal dromos, or running track, and a palaistra, in the sense of a practice ring, does not necessarily imply the existence of actual buildings.12 They disagree, however, about the period at which sites were set aside specifically for athletic training. Schneider thought that dromoi and palaistrai must already have been provided, from the seventh century onward, for the training of boy competitors in the Olympic Games;13 Delorme, by contrast, believed that the appearance of the ‘gymnasium,’ even in its most primitive form, should be associated with gymnastike as a system of education, rather than as training for competitive sports.14 Furthermore, the competitive events of the first games were all already known as early as the time of Homer, at which time they were the preserve of the aristocracy, a situation not conducive to the appearance of ‘gymnasia’ constructed by the state. In any event, only the Olympic Games were really early in origin; the Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean Games, and also the Panathenaic athletic contests at Athens, all originated in the first third of the sixth century.15 Delorme therefore regards as anachronistic references in Demosthenes and Aischines to the existence at Athens of gymnasium and palaistra buildings in, or even before, the time of Solon.16 In his view, gymnastic training as a system of education for the young resulted from the need of the Greek polis-states for physically fit and well-trained hoplite soldiers. Thanks to the fame of Homer and the consequent familiarity of the athletic competitions described in the Homeric epics, the physical education of adolescents and the physical training of hoplites took the form of gymnastike; and the first Greek gymnasia were simply open spaces set aside for this purpose. Moreover, the emergence of this system of education and training should not be associated with either Sparta or Athens; for no gymnasia are firmly attested at Sparta until the time of Augustus, and Athens during the seventh century was still a secondary power. Probably dromoi and palaistrai, for education as well as competitive training, were first set aside in some Ionian city or in one of the leading cities of the later seventh century along the western Aegean littoral.17

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths By the third quarter of the sixth century such practice grounds were becoming common; and Schneider and Delorme agree that the first evidence of actual structures associated with the training ground comes from Peisistratid Athens, where the foundation of the Academy, Lykeion, and probably also Kynosarges, is to be associated with Peisistratos’s sons, even if not with Peisistratos himself.18 The literary sources are most specific for the Academy, where in the time of Hipparchos and Hippias there was already a peribolos, or walled enclosure, with an altar to Eros at the entrance. Delorme further suggests that the bringing in of water and the planting of groves of trees by Kimon, after the battle of the Eurymedon, should be regarded as a restoration of amenities that had already existed in the Archaic period, but had been destroyed by the Persians in 480–479.19 From the beginning of its history the essential features of the gymnasium were the dromos, or practice track, and the palaistra. For example, Herodotos tells us that the tyrant Kleisthenes of Sikyon ‘built a dromos and a palaistra’ for the games connected with his daughter’s wedding;20 the story refers to a period not far removed from that in which the Athenian gymnasia were first established, but is perhaps most interesting as indicating how the essentials of the gymnasium appeared to the Greeks of Herodotos’s day, that is, the third quarter of the fifth century. The oldest gymnasium of which we have a detailed account may well be that at Elis, described by Pausanias;21 the construction of this complex must have postdated the founding of the Classical city of Elis in the seventies of the fifth century, but it is thought to have been not much later than that time. Pausanias mentions three periboloi, or walled enclosures. Since no columns or colonnades are mentioned in connection with any of the periboloi, Pausanias presumably used the term to describe simple enclosures as distinct from peristyla, or courtyards enclosed by colonnades. The largest of the three enclosures was apparently also the oldest, and had both dromoi, divided by tall plane trees, and palaistrai. This enclosure was called the Xystos; it was doubtless of oblong plan in order to provide as long a dromos as

117

possible. The second enclosure was smaller, and presumably of square plan, since it was known as the Tetragonon. Pausanias seems to indicate that it had no dromoi, but was used exclusively for practice in wrestling and boxing; presumably it was a palaistra adjoining the gymnasium, as at Olympia.22 The third enclosure was called Maltho; it may have been the last of the three to be built. It was used during the Olympic festival as the practice area for the boy competitors. While Pausanias mentions only palaistrai, the Maltho may have included dromoi as well, since the boy competitors would have needed to practise for the foot races also. Within the Maltho was the Lalichmion, the council-house of the Eleans, named after the man who dedicated it (presumably the donor of the building, rather than the chief magistrate of the year of dedication). The multi-purpose character of the building suggests that it (together with the whole enclosure of which it formed a part?) may date from the Hellenistic age. There is no mention of a loutron, or bath, in any of the three enclosures. At first, the athletes may have washed in the nearby Peneios river; even in Pausanias’s day the nearest baths were outside the gymnasium area, on a street leading to the outskirts of the city.23 Even if the different sections of the gymnasium complex at Elis were built in different periods, the two most essential features, the dromoi and palaistrai, must have formed part of the earliest layout. In fact, the Xystos, described by Pausanias as an ‘old gymnasium,’ and the Tetragonon may have been built at the same time, so that there would always have been ample provision for practice for the various events of the Games. The addition of the Maltho, for the use of the boy competitors, was doubtless due to an increase in the number of competitors; probably there was no longer room for everyone to practise in the existing facilities. Although it may be more than three hundred years later than its Elean counterpart, the gymnasium complex at Olympia, as described by Pausanias and revealed by the German excavations (figs. 297a–9), clearly contained the same essential elements.24 Pausanias says that ‘the gymnasium had both dromoi and palaistrai for the athletes,’ that it was the site of the practice sessions

118

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

(meletai ) of the pentathletes and runners, and that in addition to the colonnades of the ‘gymnasium’ there was ‘on the left of the entrance a smaller peribolos,’ also containing palaistrai. This ‘smaller enclosure’ is identified on the German plans as the Palaistra; however, Pausanias clearly regarded it simply as part of the gymnasium, not as a separate unit. The Olympia complex differed from the Elean in having both the palaistra and the enclosure for dromoi colonnaded on all four sides; in short, instead of being simply periboloi they were peristyla. It is clear from the descriptions of Pausanias that a ‘palaistra complex’ containing one or more palaistrai and provision for other field events, was simply part of a large gymnasium complex. There are two reasons why the term ‘palaistra’ is often used as a synonym for ‘gymnasium.’ First, the palaistra could exist independently of the gymnasium, and private palaistrai doubtless normally did so; the gymnasium, however, which was always a public building, necessarily included at least one palaistra, without which it would not have qualified for the name gymnasion. Second, the palaistra, in the all-inclusive sense of practice rings surrounded by rooms for dressing and instruction, and perhaps also for washing, was the most distinctive architectural element of a gymnasium complex; thus the meaning of the word was eventually extended to include the whole complex, as in the account of Vitruvius.25 In the overall history of Greek architecture, it is important to establish the period at which peristyle courts replaced the simple periboloi of early gymnasia, and where the models for such courts were found. In fact, the palaistra with colonnaded court seems to have appeared around the third quarter of the fourth century. Two Platonic dialogues, the Euthydemos and the Lysis, give a general picture of Athenian gymnasia that was presumably still valid at the time that Plato wrote, or at least in the very recent past; moreover, the Euthydemos passage refers to the famous Lykeion. In the Lykeion there was a ‘covered (katastegos) dromos,’ in front of the apodyterion, or dressing room, and presumably along one side of some sort of open space. In the Lysis we are taken eastward, outside the walls of

Athens, to ‘a peribolos with gate opened’; inside was a courtyard from which one could see into the apodyterion. At one end of this room the boys were engaged in games; the room was evidently oblong and quite large, since Socrates and his companions, sitting on seats at the ‘opposite’ end, could converse without being bothered by the noise of the youths. In neither of the above passages is there any mention of colonnades in the courtyard, or enclosure; and Delorme regards F. Durrbach’s suggestion, that the Lykeion (and other Athenian gymnasia) had early colonnades built entirely of wood, as speculation unsupported by either literary or archaeological evidence.26 Nevertheless, the apodyterion in Lysis presumably had a colonnaded facade, since it was possible to see from the open courtyard what was going on inside the room. In Delorme’s view, the type of plan that was used with local variations in the vast majority of Hellenistic gymnasia, that is, a series of rooms arranged on one or more sides of a peristyle court, first appeared in the Lykourgan reconstruction of the Lykeion at Athens.27 This gymnasium had probably existed since Peisistratid times, and even before the Lykourgan reconstruction evidently had groves of trees, like those planted by Kimon in the Academy; for Theophrastos, writing at the end of the fourth century, about thirty years, at the most, after the Lykourgan alterations, mentions a plane tree that was no longer young, the roots of which had grown to a length of 33 cubits (ca. 17 m).28 The most important contribution of Lykourgos was ‘the grouping together in a co-ordinated system’ of elements that had hitherto been separate; perhaps this grouping was achieved by the addition of colonnades surrounding a central open space. In that event Lykourgos, and the architect(s) who worked under him, would have been the creators of the palaistra as a distinct category of building.29 Whether or not Delorme’s interpretation of Lykourgos’s activity is correct, it is certainly true that the earliest preserved examples of palaistrai with peristyle courts belong to the last third or so of the fourth century, for instance, the gymnasium at Delphi (figs. 276a–b) and the Timoleonteion at Syracuse in Sicily.30 Moreover, with the introduction of the peristyle as a standard

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths feature, the courts of Hellenistic palaistrai tend to occupy a standard proportion of the overall area (30–40%), regardless of variations in absolute dimensions.31 The other question raised above was that of the origin of the peristyle court.32 More precisely, did such courts first appear in the palaistrai of Greek gymnasia? Or did Lykourgos’s architect (or architects), or some other designer, borrow the idea from another type of building? Currently available archaeological data suggest that in the Aegean world the earliest Iron Age examples of courts with colonnades on one or more sides are probably to be found in residential buildings, whether of private, semi-public, or public character. Among the earliest instances is an irregular complex of rooms grouped around a trapezoidal court, discovered by the American excavators beneath the Tholos in the Athenian agora.33 Like the Tholos, this complex may at one time have provided facilities for Athenian officials to eat and sleep; it thus takes the history of ‘living-quarters’ opening off a court, with one or more flanking colonnades, well back into the Archaic period. In later times, the buildings identified as prytaneia also seem to have had as a standard feature rooms grouped around a courtyard; but it seems unlikely that prytaneia included peristyle courts until well on into the Hellenistic period.34 However, courts with wooden colonnades, sometimes on all four sides (i.e., a true peristyle), are certainly a feature of Olynthian houses, at least by the first half of the fourth century, if not already in the last quarter of the fifth, and it is likely that such wooden colonnades were also used in the houses of Classical Athens.35 The colonnaded court also occurs in a palace of Classical date at Vouni on Cyprus; since the earlier (late Archaic) plan of this palace was oriental rather than Greek, Greeks here and elsewhere may have borrowed the colonnaded court from oriental models.36 For example, wealthy Eastern Greeks of later Archaic, or even Classical, times may have borrowed from non-Greek Anatolian or from Near Eastern models the idea of the domestic court surrounded by wooden colonnades, which could then have spread to Athens, the Thraceward district, and other parts of the

119

Aegean during the middle and later decades of the fifth century. Toward the end of the century, if not earlier, the West Building of the Argive Heraion consisted of a peristyle with wooden columns,37 with three rooms (probably banquet rooms) opening off the inner aisle of the north colonnade (fig. 270). Stone peristyles began to appear in a number of different contexts from the late fifth century onward; the earliest examples of precincts partly enclosed by stone colonnades are those of Artemis on the Athenian Acropolis and at Brauron (figs. 271–2). By the later fourth and earlier third centuries stone peristyles are fairly common, as in the ‘later palace’ at Buruncuk-Larisa in Aiolis (fig. 273), and in the structure discovered beneath the Stoa of Attalos in the Athenian agora. Seleukos Nikator built a colonnade along one side of the precinct of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ in Rough Cilicia;38 in the original early-thirdcentury form of the precinct of Zeus at Priene there was evidently a colonnade along one side;39 and there may eventually have been colonnades on one or more sides of the peribolos of the later Artemision at Ephesos. The earliest examples of agorai of ‘Ionian’ type, that is, almost entirely enclosed by stoas as at Priene and Miletos, also date from this period; and the late-fourthcentury phase of the North Agora complex at Miletos included behind one part of the long east–west arm of the Harbour Stoa a completely enclosed peristyle surrounded by shops and offices (figs. 120, 166–7). The sudden popularity of partly or entirely colonnaded courts certainly suggests that they were all inspired by the same model or models. Some of the inspiration may have been provided by the wooden peristyles of Classical times noted above, while the immediate model may have been a structure – perhaps the Lykeion – in which wooden forms had been replaced by more imposing colonnades in stone; but a non-Greek (ultimately Near Eastern or Egyptian) derivation is also possible. The first examples are too early in date to have resulted from the closer acquaintance with Near Eastern architecture that Greek designers acquired during the campaigns and conquests of Alexander the Great. Yet Greeks had been visiting Egypt and

120

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the Near East in increasingly large numbers for generations before the time of Alexander; and Egypt is perhaps still the most likely source of inspiration for Greek peristyle courts in stone.40 As we have seen, public gymnasia, including dromoi and palaistrai, as well as provision for group instruction, had probably appeared by the end of the seventh century; for it was at this time that gymnastike first became a system of education, by means of which boys were trained and moulded as the hoplite soldiers on whose strength, courage, and endurance the welfare of the polis-state would some day depend. Of course, dromoi and palastrai always required a considerable amount of space. The earliest sites set aside for gymnastike were normally on the periphery of the built-up area of a city, and usually, even if not invariably, outside the city walls, as was the case with the three ‘suburban’ gymnasia at Athens. From the early Classical period onward, however, new urban communities were usually carefully planned, with areas designated inside the city, not only for temples, agora, and private housing, but also for other public buildings such as gymnasia. For example, the ‘old gymnasium’ at Elis was apparently near the agora;41 and ‘urban gymnasia’ were later included in the layout both of the great metropolis of Alexandria and of important cities such as Pergamon, Miletos, and Nikaia.42 In fact, even towns as small as Priene were likely to make provision at least for a palaistra within the city walls. Some of these gymnasia were located very close to the centre of the city. For example, the great gymnasium at Alexandria was on the main east–west street; the first gymnasium at Priene was only a short distance northeast of the agora; and Strabo tells us that the gymnasium at Nikaia in Bithynia was located at the intersection of the streets leading from four main gates of the city.43 Even in older communities a new Hellenistic gymnasium might be located in the central part of the city, as was the Gymnasium of Ptolemy at Athens;44 and a public area, originally set aside from some other purpose, might be modified to serve as a gymnasium, as happened with the Timoleonteion at Syracuse. The great gymnasium of Alexandria must have been one

of the largest in the entire Hellenistic world; for Strabo describes it as ‘the most beautiful [of the buildings on the great east–west street?], with stoas more than a stade long in the middle, . . . and groves,’ that is, it obviously included a covered xystos and open paradromides as well as a palaistra complex.45 From the beginning of its history, the gymnasium seems frequently to have been associated with a temple or sanctuary. In addition to the altar of Eros at the entrance, the Academy at Athens doubtless also contained an altar of the hero Hekademos, after whom the complex was named; and the Lykeion took its name from the temple and sanctuary of Apollo Lykeios. At Syracuse, the Timoleonteion developed around the tomb of Timoleon, who was revered as a hero after his death; and several temples were associated with the gymnasium complex at Pergamon (figs. 294–5), especially the small temple at the eastern end of the middle terrace, which was probably dedicated to Herakles and Hermes.46 Of course, in Hellenistic times the gymnasium might be named after a king, for instance, the Gymnasium of Ptolemy at Athens; but such buildings doubtless still included altars, a shrine, or a temple. It was probably as a consequence of the provision of facilities for both training and education of the young that late Archaic and Classical gymnasia began to acquire some sort of definite plan. Yet the form that these facilities took always remained, as usual in Greek secular architecture, very closely related to the function of the complex as a whole. To judge from extant examples, and from those of which fairly detailed descriptions survive, Greek architects seldom tried to make the gymnasium imposing in itself. Their main concern was to provide the essential requirements within a reasonably attractive framework, without making the structure excessively large or costly. Showpieces such as the great gymnasium at Alexandria and that at Pergamon must have been quite exceptional. Most communities were prepared to make do with smaller structures, providing additional space, when needed, by building new gymnasia on the same modest scale.47 Vast complexes such as the Thermae of Caracalla and Dio-

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths cletian at Rome, each covering an area of some 130,000 m2, dwarfed even the great gymnasia of Olympia and Pergamon. On the other hand, the area of the Lower Gymnasium, or palaistra, beside the stadium at Priene was only 2965 m2, of the Lake and Granite palaistrai,48 on Delos, 1318 m2 and 1886 m2 respectively (figs. 283–5, 274–5). Even if the area of the Delian gymnasium (3300 m2) and xystos is added to the palaistrai, and that of the stadium to the palaistrai at Priene, the total area devoted to the gymnastic complexes at each of these two sites remains only a small fraction of that of the great Roman thermae – and that despite the fact that each of the Greek groups is made up of three distinct, though related, structures. Among extant examples of gymnasia-palaistrai, the largest known single group of buildings for gymnastike is that at Olympia (figs. 297–300).49 It is true that only the palaistra is completely preserved; the western part of the enclosure that housed xystos, paradromis, groves of trees, and athletes’ quarters has been swept away by the Kladeos, and the northern end of this complex is still not completely excavated. Nevertheless, the preserved remains, together with the description of Pausanias, suggest that the overall area, including the palaistra, was probably not over 35,000–40,000 m2, that is, less than one-third of the total area of the Thermae of Caracalla and Diocletian at Rome, though larger than the combined area of ‘palaestra units’ in either Roman complex, and about twice the size of the whole gymnasium complex at Pergamon. A series of standard rooms for the different functions of the Greek gymnasium-palaistra probably did not appear until well into the Classical period. As in the case of Greek theatres and stadia, elaborate structures, whether temporary or permanent, were not really essential. Indeed, even when it had become customary for Greek male children and adolescents to spend a fair amount of time on the education and training offered in the gymnasium, most of their activities would have taken place either under the shade of the trees or in a single large hall that could have served as both dressing room (apodyterion) and classroom. Groves of trees, as well as piped-in water, were features of the Athenian Academy at

121

least from the time of Kimon onward, and probably also existed in the Lykeion and Kynosarges gymnasia. In fact, water, for drinking perhaps even more than washing, and trees, for protection from the blistering heat of the Greek summer, were so essential that few complete gymnasia can ever have been without them. Of course if there was only a palaistra, with a stadium or dromoi nearby, there would have been room for only a very few, if any, trees in the courtyard; but water would still have been required. Scenes from the palaistra are fairly common on Athenian red-figured vases; but at least in the ‘shorthand’ by which the vase painters indicated that the scene was set in a gymnasium or palaistra, there is really nothing to suggest that Athenian palaistrai consisted of more than an open courtyard, fountain, and one or perhaps two rooms opening off the court, whether by a door (or doors) or by a partly colonnaded facade. By late Classical and Hellenistic times the number of rooms and the facilities provided in Greek gymnasia had increased considerably, partly through the gradual development of the basic scheme of the complex, and partly as a result of the association of the gymnasia with the philosophical schools and with travelling lecturers in the fields of rhetoric, poetry, music, and other topics. The connection of the philosophical schools at Athens with the Academy and the Lykeion is well known; Vitruvius tells the story of the Socratic philosopher Aristippos being shipwrecked on the coast of Rhodes, and making a living for himself and for his companions by discoursing in the gymnasium;50 and texts and inscriptions frequently refer to visiting or permanent professors in gymnasia; for instance, at Eretria there were at various times a professor of rhetoric and a ‘Homeric philologist.’51 The arrangement of Hellenistic gymnasia is perhaps best illustrated by the examples from Delphi, Sikyon, Olympia, Pergamon, and Priene, and by the recently discovered complex at Amphipolis. Additional architectural information can be gleaned from the remains at Miletos and Delos; and further investigations in the Hellenistic palaistra at Messene will doubtless add further data.52 These complexes all date from the

122

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

late fourth to the second century. Large gymnasia such as those at Epidauros (if correctly identified) and Sikyon, and especially those at Olympia and Pergamon, are examples of the type that Delorme categorizes as ‘panegyric’; those at Miletos, Priene, Delos, Amphipolis, and Messene belong to his ‘municipal’ class, which usually has a smaller courtyard.53 The relationship of the gymnasium at Delphi to the sanctuary of Apollo and the Pythian Games might lead us to expect the large ‘panegyric’ type at that site; but in this case the various elements had to be fitted into an irregular and rather constricted site, so that the final form had more in common with examples of the ‘municipal’ category. The gymnasium at Delphi (figs. 276a–279), although it underwent alterations and additions in Roman times, is still the most important among the earliest excavated, and datable, examples.54 The Greek building was already under construction by the early to mid-thirties of the fourth century, and was essentially complete by the end of that century. Because of the irregular terrain the complex was laid out on two terraces some distance below the Kastalia spring and the modern highway. The long, narrow upper terrace contained the roofed xystos and the open paradromis, in one or other of which (depending on the weather) the runners practised; of course in fine weather both dromoi could be used simultaneously. As elsewhere, the xystos was a long stoa, measuring 185 × 7.5 m. The existing Ionic colonnade is a Roman restoration; the Greek stoa was Doric, and slightly over one metre shorter. The paradromis was laid out immediately in front of the stoa, which backed against the retaining wall on the uphill side of the terrace. The lower terrace was an irregular trapezoid in shape, with maximum dimensions of ca. 16 × 35 m. Lack of space on this terrace, together with the desire to provide fairly extensive bathing facilities, made it necessary to remove the latter from the area of the palaistra to the narrower northern end of the lower terrace (figs. 278–9), which was separated from the upper level by a massive terrace-wall along the eastern side of the loutron, or bath, and the palaistra. Even so, the courtyard of the palaistra had to be reduced to a square measuring less than 14 m per side, with only 8 × 8 Doric co-

lumns, and with the rooms confined to the northern and western side of the peristyle. The large room on the western, or downhill, side probably served as both dressing room and lecture hall.55 The room with colonnaded facade in the northern wing is considered by Delorme to have been the shrine or sanctuary, while Janorray regards it as the ephebeion, or schoolroom, of Vitruvius.56 Of the other rooms, two must have been the konima and sphairisterion mentioned in the Delphic inscriptions.57 The former of these was presumably identical with the conisterium, or ‘dusting-room,’ of Vitruvius, where the wrestlers sprinkled their oil coated bodies with dust; the latter may have been, not a place for ball games, but rather a room for boxing practice.58 The entire palaistra, without the bathing facilities, was slightly smaller than the open courtyard at Priene, and only about two-thirds the area of the courtyard at Olympia (figs. 283, 297a–b). The loutron consisted of a series of stone basins, set on pedestals against the retaining wall of the terrace and fed from spouts in the wall above, plus a large ‘swimming-pool’ or cold plunge, some 10 m in diameter and about 1.8 m deep, with steps leading into the water all round the perimeter. These facilities were evidently complete by the end of the fourth century, to judge from the inscriptions, which also refer to the bringing in of water as early as 329.59 Even if the area occupied by the bathing facilities is added to that of the palaistra proper, the complex at Delphi is still less than half the size of the Lower Gymnasium at Priene. The gymnasium at Sikyon (figs. 280–1), on the lower slopes of the acropolis above the agora, is probably to be identified with the structure built by Kleinias, the father of Aratos, and mentioned by Pausanias.60 It must be later than the removal of Sikyon to its present site by Demetrios Poliorketes at the end of the fourth century;61 the style of the earliest extant architectural members suggests a date not long after 300; and if the building is indeed that built by Kleinias, it must date from before his death in 264. Here again, the complex was laid out on two terraces, one immediately above the other; the upper terrace, however, seems to have been rebuilt in Roman Imperial times. These terraces, however, were

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths more spacious, and a good deal more regular in shape, than was possible on the steeply sloping terrain at Delphi. Moreover, the Sikyonian building, or at least the excavated portion, was simply a palaistra, without any associated dromoi such as are found at Delphi. Of course, the runners could have practised on the open terraces or in the shelter of the colonnade; but there may also have been dromoi in adjoining unexcavated areas. Both the upper and lower terraces of the palaistra were over 72 m wide; the depth of the upper terrace was 36.4m, that of the lower 35 m, so that the two terraces together formed almost a perfect square. The main room, or exedra, which was presumably used among other things for instruction, was in the middle of the eastern or downhill side of the lower terrace. Two small but elegant fountains were built into the retaining wall between the two terraces (fig. 281), symmetrically placed on either side of the stairway leading from the lower to the upper level.62 Related to the above examples is the large complex east of the stadium and southeast of the precinct of Asklepios at Epidauros (fig. 282), although it was probably not a palaistra, but rather a series of dining and meeting rooms for the use of visitors to the sanctuary, whether they came as sightseers, for treatment, or to take part in athletic contests. Since there was no city nearby, meeting rooms, dining rooms, and living quarters (in the Katagogeion) were all provided near to the precinct. Thus, the supposed palaistra or gymnasium at Epidauros doubtless served some of the same purposes as the gymnasium at Delphi, and was therefore not dissimilar in plan.63 Of course the large courtyard could also have served as a palaistra, with running practice taking place in the stadium. Since the complex was quite close to the entrance of the sacred temenos, an elegant propylon was built near the northwestern corner, facing towards the sanctuary; this propylon had a prostyle Doric porch on the exterior and Corinthian columns in antis in the interior. There was a large hall on the north side of the peristyle, behind an inner row of Doric columns, and other large rooms with Ionic interior columns on the east and west; most of the southern wing was taken up by a single hall, with nine interior Ionic

123

columns, and a pair of small rooms opening off each end. Against the wall of the large hall on the east is a series of supports, apparently not intended for supporting the stone basins of a loutron. Delorme believes that the large northern room was an apodyterion, the two small rooms at the north end of the western wing a bath; such facilities would of course have been needed if the court was at times used as a palaistra. The other large rooms have been identified as dining rooms, with the pedestals against the wall of the eastern hall supporting couches for the diners; the small rooms at the end of these large halls would then be kitchens. Presumably the dining rooms would have served both resident patients and visiting athletes. In fact, we know that in Roman times a strouktorion, or dining room, was also installed in the palaistra at Delphi.64 Since there was no problem of difficult terrain in the valley at Epidauros, the complex under discussion was quite spacious. The court alone was some 33 m square, with sixteen columns per side; the overall area of the building was more than twice that of the palaistra at Delphi. Yet despite its size, and the elegance of the propylon, peristyle, and interior halls, the superstructure of the exterior walls above the level of the orthostates seems to have been mudbrick. Of course, even in the Hellenistic period the use of mudbrick was not necessarily confined to unadorned and utilitarian architecture; it was used even in palaces, and could be very elegantly finished.65 In Roman times an Odeion (or perhaps simply a large lecture hall) was built in the courtyard of the Epidaurian building, which could then no longer have been used as a palaistra. The so-called Lower Gymnasium at Priene (figs. 114, 267, 283–6) has long been regarded as our best extant example of a small palaistra of Hellenistic (in this case late Hellenistic) times; but it must now share this distinction with the newly excavated gymnasium at Amphipolis.66 Together with the stadium, the Priene gymnasium occupied a terraced site just inside the southern sector of the city walls, where the original steeply sloping terrain had doubtless been of little value for housing. A propylon, projecting slightly into the stepped street outside to

124

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the west, led directly into the two-aisled western colonnade of the courtyard; the court itself measured some 34 × 35 m. On the western, southern, and eastern sides of the court there were plain single-aisled Doric colonnades. The northern colonnade was two-aisled, the inner columns being larger than those facing the court; probably the roof rose in a single slope from the outer columns to the back of the inner aisle, where it abutted on the front, or south, wall of the rooms opening off this inner aisle. This wall may in part have continued upwards to form a small clerestory, with windows lighting the central room behind. The western room was clearly the loutron, for the stone basins are still preserved along the back wall (fig. 284); water flowed into the basins from spouts in the wall above them. The large eastern room may have been the apodyterion; and there was doubtless a ‘dusting-room’ as well as storerooms. The large central room (figs. 283, 285), with two elegant Ionic columns in the entrance, certainly served as the ephebeion, or schoolroom, for generations of boys have carved their names on the walls (fig. 286). Yet the elegance of the entranceway, as well as the remains of architectural stuccoes from the upper walls, suggest that the room was also used as an exedra, or lecture hall. The stadium on the lower terrace to the east would have served for the running practice of the athletes. The newly discovered gymnasium at Amphipolis, in Thrace (figs. 287–8), may date from the early third century, that is, almost a century and a half earlier than the Lower Gymnasium at Priene; even a late-fourth-century date has been suggested.67 The complex was discovered in 1982, and excavated between 1984 and 1989.68 Situated on the southeastern slopes of the city site below the acropolis, the Amphipolis building, like its counterpart at Delphi, includes not only a palaistra, but also covered and open air practice tracks (xystos and paradromis). The excavated remains cover an area of some 6300 m2; the palaistra, which was restricted in size by the sloping ground, as at Delphi, measured 46.80 × 36.1 m, or only about 4/7 of the area of the Lower Gymnasium at Priene, although much larger than the palaistra proper at Delphi. The Hellenistic gymnasium continued in use until it

was burned ca. AD 50, and rebuilt with extensive use of spolia from the earlier structure.69 The courtyard of the palaistra measured 20.6 × 15.4 m (compared with 14 × 14 m at Delphi, and 34 × 35 m at Priene); there were six Doric columns on the north and south sides, eight on the east and west. A paved street led to an entrance at the west end of the north colonnade of the court, while a monumental stairway, of twelve steps 8.7 m wide, gave access to the east end of this colonnade from the lower ground outside. Opening off the north colonnade were four rooms, those in the northeast and northwest corners of the building equipped as loutra, with waterspouts set in the wall above stone basins;70 the two central rooms perhaps served as the conisterium and the elaeothesium (‘anointing room’) of Vitruvius.71 The colonnades on the east and west sides of the courtyard formed the fronts of twoaisled halls, each having a row of columns down the centre. The western hall was presumably the exedra or ephebeion, used both for the education of the youth and as a hall for meetings and lectures; it had supports for wooden benches along the inner face of the west wall. The large room in the southwest corner of the building would have been suitable for the apodyterion. The function of other rooms in the building is uncertain. The west wall of the palaistra continued both northward and southward from the northwest and southwest corners of the building; some 25 m from the northwest corner this wall formed the western boundary of an area that contained a cold-water cistern (plunge bath?) 4.5 m square, with a dividing east–west wall. Between the cistern complex and the palaistra was a connecting corridor, or possibly a stoa, ca. 5 m wide. Some 9 m to the east, and about 8 m north of the Roman propylon in the north wall of the palaistra, was an altar, presumably used for sacrifices before the beginning of athletic contests. The xystos and paradromis of the gymnasium lay a short distance north-northeast of the altar. The xystos, about 7 m wide internally, has been excavated for an east–west distance of about 80 m; it doubtless had a total length of at least one stadion, ca. 175 m. From a point 7 m from the west end, the south side of the xystos had the form of a Doric stoa; the columns, as often

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths in Hellenistic secular buildings, were facetted in the lower, fluted only in the upper, part of the shaft.72 The xystos was evidently designed to allow three runners at a time to compete in the diaulos, or two-stade race; remains were found both of the -plan aphesis, or starting gates, and of the anchors for wooden posts separating the individual lanes from each other. The paradromis, immediately in front of the xystos as at Delphi, had somewhat similar arrangements.73 Another interesting complex has been discovered in the Greek excavations at Messene. The site of the Messene stadium has long been known; however, recent excavations in the area have shown that the stadium was enclosed on three sides by colonnades with rooms opening off them.74 The colonnades on the long sides of the stadium apparently served as the covered practice tracks of the gymnasium; overlooking the far end of the stadium was a mausoleum or heroon, formerly identified as a temple. A copy of Polykleitos’s Doryphoros was found in Room II of the gymnasium. This room was part of a remodelling of early Roman date; originally the statue doubtless stood in some other location, presumably somewhere in the gymnasium.75 The Romans also converted the north half of the stadium into an amphitheatre by building a semicircular wall across the middle section of the track; after this modification the south half of the track was no longer maintained.76 At Miletos there seem to have been several Hellenistic palaistrai, of which the most important may have been the one immediately west of the stadium; as at Priene, palaistra and stadium were just inside the city wall, on the south side of Theatre Bay (fig. 289). The site of the stadium, which was laid out with reference to the street grid, may have been chosen when Miletos was refounded in the years following 479. Both palaistra and stadium were largely rebuilt in Roman times; but parts of the retaining walls at the east end of the stadium (fig. 263), together with the Ionic propylon leading from the west end of the stadium into the court of the palaistra, seem to be Hellenistic work.77 The palaistra, and perhaps also the stadium, have been seen as gifts of Eumenes II of Pergamon;78 the juxtaposition of the two buildings at Miletos could have

125

suggested their similar arrangement at Priene. The palaistra has not been explored in detail, but seems in Hellenistic times to have consisted of an open court, nearly 60 m square, surrounded by colonnades. As at Priene, the dressing room, bath, lecture halls, and other rooms opened off the north colonnade; at Miletos these facilities perhaps covered an area of some 25 × 75 m. The overall measurements of this poorly preserved and incompletely excavated palaistra may have been as much as 75 × 92 m, that is, considerably larger than the complexes at Sikyon, Epidauros, and Olympia, and more than two and one half times the area of the modest structure at Priene. More interesting is another Hellenistic building at Miletos, south of the Delphinion on the east side of the broad avenue linking the harbour area with the great South Agora. This structure (figs. 128, 290–1), about 28.5 × 56 m overall, has been regarded as the ‘gymnasium of Eudemos,’ built by a Milesian citizen of that name, and mentioned in an inscription of 200/199 discovered in the nearby Delphinion;79 but this identification still awaits confirmation. The architectural details of the building are thought to be about a generation earlier in date than those of the council-house, which was built ca. 170. The oblong plan, with a projecting propylon on the south, an open court about 35 × 19 m, and a ‘main building’ about 28.5 × 17 m across the north end, also recalls that of the councilhouse complex. The court was in effect a ‘Rhodian peristyle,’80 since the south half of the ‘main building’ consisted of a deep porch opening on to the north side of the court through Ionic columns larger than those of the Doric order on the other three sides. It is not clear how the junction between the Doric order of the court and the inner facade of the Ionic propylon was treated. The north half of the ‘main building,’ if it was a palaistra, doubtless housed the usual dressing room, bath, and other facilities. As at Priene, the large central room would have been the ephebeion; it had an elegant colonnaded entrance, in this case of the Corinthian order.81 The palaistrai at Miletos were later enhanced by the addition of thermae of Roman type, in place of the simpler loutron of Hellenistic times.

126

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

Probably ca. AD 165, the Baths of Faustina were constructed in the region northeast of the stadium; under Claudius, the procurator Cn. Vergilius Capito had already built smaller thermae in the area between the presumed ‘gymnasion of Eudemos’ and the Delphinion. Both thermae were provided with their own palaistra, as were also the Humei Tepe thermae, on the North Hill east of the harbour.82 By the late Classical period (mid-fourth century BC?) the Euboian city of Eretria was also provided with at least two ‘gymnasia’ (more accurately, two palaistrai). The Upper Gymnasium was discovered by the Americans in 1896 and later completely excavated by the Swiss expedition; the Lower Gymnasium, in its later phases slightly larger than the Upper, was completely excavated by Kourouniotis in 1911.83 In the earlier phase of the Upper Gymnasium there was a peristyle court some 20 m square (fig. 292), of which only the foundations survive; if the palaistra was in fact built as early as the middle of the fourth century,84 it would be our earliest example of a peristyle in such a building. This earlier building was almost completely destroyed in the sack of Eretria by the Romans in 198 BC, and was subsequently replaced by a new structure, with floors at a higher level, and without colonnades surrounding the courtyard. At the north end of the west wing the earlier palaistra had two connecting loutra, paved with a simple limestone-chip mosaic; these rooms were provided with seven stone washbasins along the east wall, water being supplied from a channel above the basins, probably through lionhead spouts. The rough stone gutter, below this channel and let into the back of the most northerly basin, together with the equally rough gutters connecting one basin with the next to the south, must belong to the post-198 structure; the overflow from the re-used washbasins was conducted to footbaths sunk in the floor along the south wall of a new southern room, which had a pebble-mosaic floor. In both periods the two large rooms on the north side of the court perhaps served as the ephebeion (the more westerly room) and apodyterion (the eastern room).85 The most interesting room in the whole complex is the large, thick-walled oval room toward

the northwest corner (shorter diameter ca. 9 m, longer ca. 10 m); on the exterior it has squared corners.86 Two levels of brick floor and the remains of a hearth show that this was a hot room, and could also serve as a steam bath, since water could be heated over the fire. The ceiling was at least partly vaulted; this may have been due to Roman influence, but the blocks used in the vaulting are of Greek workmanship. R. Ginouv`es thought that the brick construction between the hot-room door and the northwest corner of the suggested apodyterion could have been part of a hypocaust built in the period preceding the construction of the oval room.87 The Lower Palaistra of Eretria lay just north of the ancient harbour, and seems to have gone through three different phases. Phase 1, assigned by the excavators to the period after the Persian Wars, may have covered no more than ca. 24 m E–W by 28.5 m N–S;88 it is reasonable to assume that there was already a central open space, whether or not there were any colonnades. This smaller early structure was replaced, perhaps ca. 400, by a larger palaistra extending further east, and probably also further north and west; the new complex, destroyed in 198, was subsequently rebuilt with some modifications and additions (fig. 293).89 The new palaistra had a central court ca. 23.25 m square, with colonnades along much of the south and west sides. The small rooms east of the court, mostly taken over from earlier buildings, may have been loutra and dressing rooms. On the north side of the court was a large two-aisled room, presumably the ephebeion; the restored plan shows a facade of four columns in antis toward the court, and a central row of six columns with spans approximately double those of the facade. The great gymnasium at Pergamon, rising on three terraces of increasing size (figs. 294–6), with maximum dimensions of more than 100 m from north to south by 200 m from east to west, is the largest completely preserved Greek gymnasium complex known to us.90 The original scheme probably dates from the end of the reign of Attalos I or the early years of Eumenes II, that is, the end of the third or the early second century. Inscriptions found in the area suggest that the small southern terrace was used by

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths young boys, the middle terrace by the ephebes, and the larger upper terrace by the young men; the large rooms of the uppermost terrace also served as lecture halls. Walled chambers solidly filled with earth buttressed the hill slopes above the complex, and acted as retaining walls on the downhill side of each terrace. The lowest terrace was simply an irregular practice ring; the middle terrace had several rooms opening off the east end of a colonnade on the uphill side. The large rectangular courtyard of the highest terrace measured ca. 36 × 74 m, and was colonnaded on all sides, at least in Roman times (fig. 294); in the Hellenistic period the south side may have been simply a long open terrace, with an impressive view over the lower city to the plain. This long narrow terrace, extending some 70 m beyond the eastern and western borders of the court, with a total length of more than 200 m, was the paradromis, or ‘openair’ practice track; beneath it was a ‘basement’ of the same length, lighted by inward-splayed slit windows in the south wall (fig. 296). This covered area was presumably the xystos, provided for the use of the runners in inclement weather. The Hellenistic bath facilities lay north of the western end of the paradromis, beginning at the southwestern corner of the great court; they were later modified and enlarged by the Romans, who also built thermae in the area east of the court. Presumably the main halls for instruction were always on the north side of the court; but this part of the complex was drastically altered in Roman times (fig. 295). Above the northwest corner of the court was a small temple, apparently of Asklepios; and the temple and precinct of Hera Basileia, built by Attalos II, stood on a small terrace to the north of the whole complex.91 There was another temple at the east end of the middle terrace; the Hellenistic temple may have been dedicated to Hermes and Herakles, like its Roman successor, which seems also to have served the Imperial cult. The rivalry between the courts of Alexandria and Pergamon is well known. Thus, whatever the date of the great complex at Pergamon, it may have been designed to equal, or even surpass, the famous gymnasium at Alexandria; as already noted, the Alexandrian building was regarded

127

by Strabo as the most beautiful of the public buildings in the central area of the city. The character of the gymnasia at Delphi and Amphipolis, and perhaps even more of that at Pergamon, is illuminated by a large body of epigraphic material, but there are no surviving descriptions by ancient authors. At Olympia, by contrast, it is possible to check the excavated remains (figs. 297–300) against the account of Pausanias, to which we have already referred.92 Pausanias clearly entered the gymnasium complex by the late Hellenistic Corinthian propylon, which was probably built ca. 100 BC or a little later; this propylon is located between the southeastern corner of the large northern enclosure and the northeastern corner of the smaller peribolos that was clearly the palaistra. Pausanias deals first with the large enclosure, which he calls the gymnasium, the great open court of which was directly accessible from the propylon. This portion of the complex, he tells us, was the place where the pentathletes and runners practised. The covered xystos, used by the athletes in rainy or very hot weather, was evidently in the extant eastern colonnade, where a series of cuttings, at the line of the third interior column from the south end of the colonnade, have been interpreted as provision for fastening the starting and finishing lines in place; if similar cuttings were located in line with the third column from the excavated north end of the xystos, they would have been almost exactly one Olympic stade from the southern lines.93 The central part of the great enclosure was open to the sky (Pausanias mentions a ‘base in the open air,’ ); and the lodgings for the athletes backed against ‘the colonnade of the gymnasium that faces east,’ that is, the stoa, no longer preserved, that formed the western border of the open space.94 The athletes’ lodgings, then, faced westward (or southwestward, according to Pausanias), towards the old bed of the Kladeos. Of the preserved stoas of the gymnasium, the southern was perhaps built in the earlier second century, the eastern not before ca. 100 BC. As one entered through the propylon of the gymnasium-palaistra complex, there was, according to Pausanias, ‘a smaller peribolos on the left [i.e., south] of the entrance,’ that housed

128

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the practice rings for contestants in field events with modest space requirements, such as boxing, wrestling, and presumably jumping. This smaller peribolos was accessible from the northern part of the complex by means of a doorway in the back, or northern, wall of the large room in the middle of its north wing. However, it is clear, both from the general style of its architecture and from its relationship to the south colonnade of the northern enclosure, that it was built a century or more before that colonnade; the Corinthian propylon seems to have been even later than the gymnasium stoas.95 The palaistra was originally entered from the south, by two small ‘propyla,’ at the eastern and western ends of the southern wing respectively, each with two Corinthian columns in antis. Perhaps at the time that the large enclosure was built (or remodelled?),96 the palaistra was provided with a Doric propylon at the north end of the western wing, facing toward the Kladeos; this propylon may have been designed as a convenient entrance from the athletes’ lodgings.97 The Corinthian capitals of the entranceways in the south wing of the palaistra find some of their closest parallels in examples from Tarentum; since that city was destroyed by the Romans in 209, the Olympic palaistra is unlikely to be later than the last quarter of the third century BC, and may belong to the first half of the century. The peristyle court of the palaistra was 41 m square, with overall dimensions of 66.35 × 66.75 m. The total area was about half as much again as that of the palaistra at Priene, though only about five-sixths of the area of the court at Epidauros. If we add the probable area of the large northern enclosure at Olympia, it becomes clear that the Olympic complex as a whole was one of the largest ever built in the Greek world. Though doubtless somewhat smaller than the great gymnasium at Alexandria, it probably gives a better notion than any other extant example of the scale of the great suburban gymnasia at Athens. Yet with the exception of a few details, such as the ornamental propyla and the facade of the large northern room of the palaistra, the architecture was relatively plain and simple, as at Epidauros. The upper portions of the walls were built of sundried bricks; the columns, espe-

cially in the large northern enclosure, were very plain, the decoration if any consisting of a coat of painted stucco; and the axial spans are often so wide that the entablatures must have been of wood. A few parts of the palaistra can be definitely identified. The large northern room, with its facade of Ionic columns, must be the exedra, or ‘lecture room,’ since it had benches along the walls; it may also have served as the apodyterion, or dressing room. The bathroom was in the northeastern corner. The two-aisled colonnade on the south side may have been designed as a short katastegos dromos, of the type mentioned by Plato in Euthydemos. In the north-central portion of the courtyard is an area paved with striated terracotta tiles; Schneider, who thought that the sphairisterion served primarily for ball games, placed the Olympic sphairisterion here.98 Delorme, as we have seen, regards the sphairisterion as a boxing ring, for which this sort of paving would have been quite unsuitable. He therefore follows Fedde in supposing that the area was used for practice in jumping, noting that the striated pavement would have provided an excellent purchase for the jumpers’ feet. 99 Presumably the sanctuary at Olympia had some sort of gymnasium and palaistra before the third century BC; and in fact attempts have been made to recognize traces of these among the excavated remains to the west of the Altis. Unfortunately none of these attempts is convincing; we simply do not know what facilities were available for the athletes of Classical and early Hellenistic times. The extant palaistra, and perhaps some parts of the gymnasion, may have been royal, perhaps Ptolemaic, donations. Of special interest among preserved Hellenistic gymnasia is the example discovered in the French excavations at Ai Khanum in Afghanistan. In his account of Panopeus in Phokis, Pausanias listed, as essential elements of a Greek city, government offices, agora, gymnasium, theatre, and a public water supply and fountains.100 Ai Khanum, on the left bank of the ancient Oxos river (the modern Amu Darya) lies over 4000 km east of Panopeus. Yet in the years following Alexander’s conquests there sprang up on this site a Hellenistic city, many

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths of whose institutions faithfully mirrored the Graeco-Macedonian origins and prejudices of the ruling minority; all but one of Pausanias’s ‘essential elements’ have been discovered at Ai Khanum, which some scholars have identified as the ancient Alexandria Oxiana.101 However, the buildings at Ai Khanum were necessarily constructed using the materials (especially mudbrick) and techniques familiar to local craftsmen. Even when Greek architectural forms were used they were sometimes ‘dehellenized’ or misunderstood; and the majority of buildings follow local rather than Greek plans. Thus, there is little that is Greek either in the overall plan or in the individual halls and rooms of the great administrative complex, or ‘Palace’; and the plan of the ‘temple a` redans’ is completely non-Greek. The Greek ancestry of the theatre, by contrast, is instantly apparent; and the French excavations have revealed a large mausoleum, 21.50 × 11.75 m, in the form of an Ionic peripteral temple, the peristyle of 6 × 10 columns enclosing a ‘pronaos,’ ‘cella,’ and ‘adyton’ (the last of these with a crypt beneath to serve as the burial chamber). Yet true to local tradition, both theatre and mausoleum were built mostly of mudbrick, and the Ionic capitals of the mausoleum, like their wooden counterparts in the ‘temple a` redans,’ were strongly ‘dehellenized.’ The gymnasium, which was probably built in the early third century, tells a similar story. In true Greek fashion, it contained a shrine or heroon dedicated to Kineas, presumably regarded as the founder of the city; and the building was, as so often, placed under the tutelage of Hermes and Herakles. Around 150 there was set up near the heroon a pillar inscribed with a series of Delphic precepts, also found in other parts of the Hellenistic world. Greek too is the provision of a smaller court (the palaistra) with flanking exedras, a larger court, presumably for running practice, and a cold pool immediately to the southwest. The names in the Greek inscriptions are also of Aegean origin (Klearchos, Kineas, Straton, Triballos), and the Doric capitals from the exedra have many Hellenistic counterparts in Anatolia and Syria. Yet the palaistra at Ai Khanum, unlike Aegean examples, had no colonnades around the court, which occu-

129

pied over 55 per cent of the total area; the large court was only about 0.66 of a stade in length, so that there were no full-length practice tracks; the column-shafts had no fluting; and the general plan of the palaistra had a non-Greek appearance. Nevertheless, this ‘modified Greek’ gymnasium in faraway Bactria is a striking illustration of the manner in which Greek forms and Greek institutions were changed and adapted to local conditions in areas outside the mainstream of Aegean Hellenistic civilization.102 This is a convenient point to consider the source of Vitruvius’s description of the palaestra.103 He makes it plain at the start of the chapter that he is describing a Greek, not an Italic, building; and he uses Greek names for the various sections and rooms. It has generally been assumed that Vitruvius was describing, not a theoretical, or ideal, plan for a palaistra, but rather a particular building of his own day, whether already built or only in the planning stage; two attempts to interpret the plan of the Vitruvian building are shown in figs. 301a, 301b. Delorme doubts that Vitruvius had done much first-hand study of Greek architecture east of the Adriatic, and is inclined to seek the Roman writer’s model in a gymnasium in his own native Campania or elsewhere in Magna Graecia, or possibly even in Sicily.104 The mention of hot baths and a cold piscina, in Delorme’s view, reinforces the notion of an Italic model, and suggests that the model had been fairly recently constructed, if the hot baths were part of the original plan. This theory may well be correct; yet Vitruvius obviously knew, and borrowed from, a number of Hellenistic architectural treatises. The fact that we know of none dealing specifically with gymnasia and palaistrai does not mean that none existed. Vitruvius is not in the habit of giving detailed acknowledgment of his sources; thus, in spite of the prominence of Hermogenes in his discussion of the Ionic pseudodipteral temple, we can only guess at the extent of his direct borrowing from the East Greek architect. In any event, if Vitruvius could use a single (in his case Italic) building as the basis of a theoretical design for a palaestra, so could his Hellenistic predecessors. For example, some late Hellenistic theorist may have used one or both of the complexes at

130

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

Alexandria and Olympia as the basis of an academic study of the ‘ideal’ form of such buildings; this Hellenistic treatise could then have been the starting point for Vitruvius’s discussion. Even the presence of hot baths in Vitruvius’s account is not necessarily an indication that his model was an Italic or Sicilian building. It is true that no such facilities exist actually in the palaistra at Olympia; but there had been provision for hot baths nearby for some time before the construction of the Olympic palaistra, and hot baths were in any case just the sort of addition to the palaistra that a late Alexandrian writer might have felt to be desirable.105 Certainly by the later second century BC, as the history of bathing establishments at Olympia itself and at Gortys in Arkadia shows, Greek bathing installations were becoming fairly sophisticated; and there is no reason to assume that the inclusion of such facilities in palaistrai was confined to the western Mediterranean.106 In any case, Vitruvius’s ideal palaestra (fig. 301), with attached dromoi for runners, presents a number of interesting parallels with the gymnasium/palaistra complex at Olympia, as well as with other examples of Hellenistic date.107 The Vitruvian courtyard is enlarged to a length of 300 ft per side, so that the circuit of the court amounted to two stades.108 Vitruvius does not suggest measurements either for the colonnades or for the flanking rooms and halls; it is reasonable to suppose, however, that these would have added at least 35–40 m to the overall dimensions of the palaestra, which could thus have measured ca. 115–25 m square, against 66.35 × 66.75 m at Olympia. Even without the addition of the enclosure with xystus and paradromides,109 the Vitruvian palaestra would have covered an area approximately equal to four and one-half by one and one-half city blocks at Classical Olynthos, or a total of six and three-quarter blocks plus the intervening road allowances, or sixty-seven and one-half house lots. Since the blocks in Hellenistic city plans, despite differences in shape, were rarely significantly larger in area than those at Olynthos, Vitruvius’s gymnasium would have occupied much the same number of blocks in other Greek cities, whether in the eastern or in the western Mediterranean.

Not many Hellenistic cities could afford to sacrifice an area of this size inside the fortified area. In the western Mediterranean in particular, the only likely Greek candidate is Syracuse; if a Syracusan gymnasium was Vitruvius’s model, the complex in question may well have been the famous Timoleonteion, which occupied an area originally conceived as an agora, not as a palaistra.110 It is true that the ‘Great Palaestra’ at Pompeii was very spacious; but it had no xystus or paradromides attached. The palaestra to the north of the Great Theatre at Pompeii was very modest in size, and even the colonnaded court to the south of the theatre, which has sometimes been thought to have been planned originally as a palaestra, was no larger than the corresponding complex at Olympia.111 The three urban thermae of Pompeii, all of which included a courtyard of some sort, tell the same story. The largest, in the Terme Centrali, was about the same size as the gymnasium at Delos; the palaestra in the Terme Stabiane was about 15–16 per cent, that in the Terme del Foro some 38 per cent smaller, than that in the Terme Centrali. Of course Pompeii was only a small provincial town. Yet there is no reason to believe that ‘urban’ gymnasia in larger cities, such as Tarentum, Capua, or Naples, were much larger in scale; doubtless, when additional facilities were needed, civic authorities west of the Adriatic responded in the same manner as their counterparts in the eastern Mediterranean, that is, by building additional small gymnasia rather than a single very large complex. It is hard to believe that a palaestra (not to mention the entire gymnasium complex) of the size described by Vitruvius could have existed in Italy or Sicily without being as well known to his readers as to Vitruvius himself. In that event, however, he would surely have mentioned his model by name, as he does with the examples of various temple plans at Rome and his own basilica at Fanum. Had he not done so, he would have left himself open to the charge of passing off as his own idea a familiar work of some other architect. Perhaps at the time when Vitruvius wrote, the building that served as his model was only in the planning stage, and had not actually been built; if the plan was subsequently abandoned,

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths the proposed building could have remained unknown to later writers, and there would be no remains for archaeologists to find. Yet if Vitruvius was simply describing some other architect’s or writer’s proposed plan for a palaestra, his source was really the same sort of theoretical exercise that we have suggested above, but by an Italic rather than a Greek architect. Thus, the basic question still remains: what were the sources of inspiration, whether of Vitruvius or of our hypothetical Italic architect? Indeed, even if a building such as Vitruvius describes had actually been built, there is still a question to be answered: was this building a new and original creation, on which some unknown architect had set a specifically Italic stamp, or was the designer copying the work of a predecessor, to whose design he himself simply made a few Italic additions? If the former, why does Vitruvius insist that he is describing a ‘Greek’ palaestra? If the latter, what model did the architect choose to follow? On the whole, it seems at least as likely that Vitruvius, here as elsewhere, took his data on an essentially Greek type of building from a Hellenistic source. He may have been responsible for elaborating the bathing facilities of his Hellenistic model into the type of Italic thermal establishment normal in his own day; however, if his Greek model was as recent in date as the later second century BC, it could well have included some type of hypocaust bath. The presence of both hot and cold baths in the Vitruvian palaestra brings us finally to the question of the development of warm-water bathing facilities during the Hellenistic age, either as part of a gymnasium-palaistra or as a separate establishment, whether public or private. As noted earlier, it seems that a good deal of the basic theoretical work on which the construction of the great Roman thermae was later based goes back to the Hellenistic period. It is important here to distinguish between mineral springs with waters warmed by natural forces within the earth, and baths in which both water and bathing rooms were heated artificially. Hot springs are found in many parts of the Mediterranean, and have been exploited from very early times for the sake of their healing properties, whether real or imagined. Thus,

131

Pausanias mentions a number of examples of ‘natural’ baths in his native Asia Minor, as at Lebedos, Teos, and Chalkis (in the territory of Erythrai), the Astyra baths at Atarneus (inland from modern Dikeli, on the road to Pergamon), and the waters of the White Plain in Karia; and he also refers to the baths at Thermopylai, on the Methana peninsula west of Troizen, and near Phigaleia in Arkadia, as well as the springs on the Liparian island of Hiera and the sulphur springs beside the Via Tiburtina in Latium.112 Some of these, as well as other examples,113 are still in use today. Moreover, the combination of warm water and mild Mediterranean winters made year-round use a practical proposition even in antiquity; in modern times warm springs can be exploited even in the depth of the northern winter, as is the case at Banff and Radium Hot Springs in Canada’s Rocky Mountains. Provision for artificially heated water and bath-buildings is a rather more complex problem, for even heated water may lose its attractiveness in a damp, cold bathing room. Thus the extensive development, for public use, of hotwater baths, and even more of sweat-baths, was unlikely to take place before some means had been devised of heating the bathing rooms as well as the water. One obvious method of achieving this end was by means of hearths, or of firepots set on the floor of the room, that is, by an expanded version of the provisions that had long been made in both public and private contexts.114 This was evidently the solution adopted in many Greek baths, for instance, the hearth in the second-century ‘tholos’ of the Upper Gymnasium at Eretria in Euboia; and a brazier was actually found in the tepidarium of the Forum Bath at Pompeii.115 The Upper Gymnasium at Eretria may possibly have had a primitive form of ‘hypocaust’ as early as the late Classical or early Hellenistic period;116 and similar arrangements for heating water, as well as a ‘heating-wall’ for a hot room, are found in the baths in Rooms ‘m’ and ‘A’ in ‘Palast I,’ also at Eretria.117 The recently excavated Hellenistic bath complex at Messene had furnaces, but no hypocaust.118 Baked bricks were used both in the Gymnasium and in Room A of ‘Palast I,’ as well as in the baths at Gortys and Olym-

132

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

pia described below; and fired bricks seem to have been made and used extensively in Magna Graecia, where they were employed not only in early hypocausts, but also for pavements and secondary walls, as at Velia in Lucania and at Gela in Sicily.119 No doubt provision of warm water for bathtubs had been made, at least in the houses of the aristocracy, from very early in the Iron Age, as it had been also in Bronze Age palaces. Provision of public hot-water and steam baths, however, especially those operated by private individuals, is not attested before the fifth century.120 By the end of the century, the first provision for warm-water baths had been made at Olympia, and the ‘Centaur Bath’ at Corinth had been built.121 A number of Hellenistic baths are known to have been provided with hot-water and steam baths; the privately owned establishments are fairly small in scale, and generally have the bathtubs, if any, set around the perimeter of a circular room, as in the baths at the Dipylon Gate and in the agora region at Athens, and one of the two rooms of the bath at Gela in Sicily. In the other room at Gela the tubs are set around the perimeter of a more or less rectangular room, while at Velia there was a circle of tubs within a rectangular room.122 The Hellenistic bath at Oiniadai in northwestern Greece had no bathtubs, but simply a hot-water basin at the centre of each of the two round rooms, with a circle of round depressions in the floor around the basin; presumably the bathers stood in these depressions and splashed themselves with warm water.123 Probably the frequent occurrence of round rooms is due to the realization that round rooms avoided the ‘cold corners’ that were likely to exist in rooms of rectangular plan. In their account of the ‘Tholos’ of the Upper Gymnasium at Eretria, Auberson and Schefold note that the vaulted roof of this room, built in the years following the Roman conquest of 198 BC, may have been due to Roman architectural influence, even though executed in Greek masonry;124 and a similar argument may be made regarding the bathing facilities of the post-198 phase of ‘Palast I.’ Thus, the clearest illustration of the gradual evolution of hypocaust systems in bath-buildings in the Hellenistic world

is still provided by the baths connected with the Asklepieion at Gortys in Arkadia, excavated and published by the French, and by the series of bath facilities uncovered by the Germans at Olympia.125 The history of the establishment at Gortys has been traced over a period of more than two hundred years, from the fourth to the late second century BC; the baths were finally abandoned in the first century AD (figs. 302–3). The essential characteristics of a hypocaust system are the provision of a central furnace with its own ‘service room,’ and of a series of rooms with suspended ‘false floors,’ beneath which hot gases from the furnace could be circulated. Obviously, unless extremely heat-resistant materials were used in the construction of the furnace itself and of the supports for the suspended floors, these elements would not last very long; and in fact the various stages of the Gortys bath seem to show a continuing shift from the use of poros stone to a more extensive use of baked bricks. This development is important historically, since the elaborate hypocaust and wall-flue systems of Roman times would have been much less successful without extensive use of ceramic materials for supporting the suspended floors and for the heat-flues in the walls. Yet while the final remodelling of the Gortys hypocaust in the late second century took place almost half a century later than the establishment of the Roman province of Achaea in 146 BC, both the secondcentury system at this site and the ‘Greek hypocaust’ at Olympia described below seem to have been natural developments of the third-century hypocaust at Gortys, rather than a borrowing of Italic ideas. In the ‘hypocaust’ phases the Gortys bath (fig. 302b) had a large furnace room (basement of Room F) that provided heating for Rooms B, C, D, E, and G.126 Room Y, which was originally a cold plunge, now became the service room for the furnace. Hot gases from the furnace were conducted northward, turned east to pass through the hypocaust of Room D to the hypocaust of the steam room, E, and were finally directed southward through the hypocausts that heated the eastern apse of the large room C and the northern apse of Room B, behind the eastern

Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths quadrant of which the hot-air shaft turned upward to serve as an exhaust-flue. A branch of the hypocaust led to Room G with its circle of Sitzbad tubs; these were supplied from a basin heated by the hypocaust.127 Room D seems to have contained a series of three large bathtubs placed directly above the hypocaust.128 The entrance hall of the complex, on the east side, had a facade of four engaged Ionic columns; a doorway in the southwest corner led into the large vestibule, B. In the middle of the west side were the water reservoir for the baths (Room X) and, immediately to the north, the original cold plunge (Y). The baths southwest of the palaistra at Olympia (figs. 304–7) are in some respects even more important than those at Gortys, since the various stages of their development cover some five and one-half centuries (after 450 to the construction of the Roman thermae ca. AD 100),129 the Olympia complex also contains the largest swimming pool (16 × 24 m, and over 1.6 m deep) known from any pre-Roman site in the Greek world. Already by the later fifth century BC a room with cold-water Sitzbad tubs along two of its walls had been added to the original long hall with its draw-well; to the east had been built a sweatbath complex, the so-called Heroon (the main room circular as in the later phase of the Upper Gymnasium at Eretria), and to the west the large open-air pool, which probably had steps leading down all around, as in the circular cold plunge at Delphi (fig. 279).130 Around 400 or a little later, a warm-water basin was added to the ‘bathtub room’; in the later fourth century an additional twenty tubs were installed in the expanded north end of the long hall (figs. 304–6). Along the southern part of the east wall of the new bathing room a furnace and chimney were constructed, to heat water in a vessel accessible from the bathing room, and the central water reservoir of the baths was enlarged. The complex seems to have been severely damaged ca. 170–150, and was not fully restored until the end of the century, when a small hypocaust bath was constructed (fig. 307). The main vaulted room of the new structure, which measured ca. 6 × 8 m, with an apse 3.17 m deep in the south wall, had its floor supported by brick piers; hot gases were directed into

133

this hypocaust from a furnace with chimney built into the mid-northern area of the original Sitzbad ; the hypocaust also heated water for a warm bath in the northwest corner of the room. The floor of the apse was solid, not suspended; it is thought to have housed a steam basin, the water of which was heated from outside. The rooms along the east side of the new bath were presumably an entrance hall, vestibule, and dressing rooms. The new complex, called the ‘Greek hypocaust-bath’ by the excavators, is more advanced in design than the Gortys hypocaust. It is still a vexed question whether the slightly earlier final phase of the Arkadian complex, and even more the ‘Greek hypocaust-bath’ at Olympia, should be regarded as early examples of the influence of Italic models on Greek bath-buildings, or whether they are better seen as the final phase of a long period of technical development in later Classical and earlier Hellenistic times.131 From the theoretical point of view, the supposed Italic models were themselves indebted to earlier Greek experiments such as the first provisions for heating at Olympia and Gortys, where the underlying principles used by Roman engineers are already understood and employed. Certainly the systems at Olympia and Gortys have a long way to go to reach the stage represented by the hypocausts of Vitruvius. Yet all the basic elements are already present, needing only further refinement and elaboration. If Ginouv`es is correct in believing that bricks were used as early as the middle to late fourth century for some sort of hypocaust in the Upper Gymnasium at Eretria, the Gortys establishment may not have been the first of its type in the Greek world.132 Another question, still unresolved, is whether the hypocausts at Velia and Gela can be fitted comfortably into the sequence of Hellenistic developments east of the Adriatic, or should rather be regarded as peculiarly Western developments, perhaps not even Greek but originating in Italic Campania. The early appearance of fired bricks at Velia, in the hypocaust and elsewhere, certainly seems to have been a Western Greek, not an Italic, innovation.133 I. Nielsen, however, strongly supports the Italic origin of hypocaust heating; she notes that the

134

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

terms hypocauston/hypocausis do not occur before the Roman period, and were, in her view, coined by the Romans; that the ‘invention’ of the hypocaust has traditionally, on the basis of the Elder Pliny’s statement, been credited to C. Sergius Orata, who lived in the nineties of the first century BC; and that complete rooms with false floors (suspensurae) suspended on brick piers are quite different from the ‘annular hypocaust’ found at Gortys.134 Nielsen’s views are endorsed by J. DeLaine, who regards hypocausts of Roman type as an Italic, and specifically Campanian, development of the second century BC, by means of which a whole room, including a small immersion-pool, could be heated (thus replacing the Greek Sitzbad with an immersion bath). In DeLaine’s view, the ‘Greek hypocaust bath’ at Olympia was ‘clearly a descendant of [the hypocausts in] the Republican baths at Pompeii, imported from Italy rather than the reverse.’ Moreover, she thinks that the ‘standardization’ of the hypocaust found at Olympia (with large tiles for the upper and lower floors, and smaller tiles for the piers) was perhaps an idea of Orata, which led to his being credited with the ‘invention’ of the hypocaust.135 Johannowsky, however, has stressed the primacy of Greek hypocaust installations; and more recently, G.G. Fagan, in reexamining all the sources relating to the activities of Orata, observes that Orata’s pensiles balineae are never explicitly linked to baths for human use, and that this phrase never appears in sources (notably Vitruvius) dealing with the heating of baths, while the familiar terms suspensura and hypocauston are never used in connection with Orata’s invention. Fagan suggests that Orata’s pensiles balineae were more probably connected with his fish-farming activities, rather than with baths for human use.136 Perhaps the dispute over the origin of the hypocaust is best understood as another example of the strongly polarized views of scholars working in the Italic/Roman and the Greek fields. Those whose primary interests are Greek, conscious of the fact that the ancient Greeks at times made little or no practical use of their discoveries in the field of scientific theory, are inclined to credit them with more than their due in the way of practical achievement; the Romanists, by con-

trast, in attempting to lighten the burden of Horace’s Graecia capta line, sometimes go too far in denying the Greek contribution to Rome. In the case of heating by hypocausts, it seems to me impossible to deny the theoretical achievement of the Greeks; but it was the Romans who really appreciated the possibility of developing the modest Greek systems on a scale, and to a degree of technical perfection, that the Hellenistic world could never have imagined. Here again, one may recall Frontinus’s comparison of the great aqueducts of Rome with ‘the otiose pyramids and the useless, but famous, works of the Greeks’!137 It is well known that Roman hypocausts and heat-flues were used for bathing establishments in private houses and even, in the colder provinces, for general winter heating. The evidence, both literary and archaeological, seems to indicate that this extended application of hypocaust heating was an exclusively Roman development. In Greek houses water was normally heated right in the bathing room (or in an adjoining kitchen), while the room itself was warmed either by a hearth or by braziers, or by means of a ‘heating wall.’ Thus, a house to the east of the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi has a heated bath area backed against the smoke-shaft of the kitchen; Rooms ‘l’ and ‘m’ in ‘Palast I’ at Eretria were evidently a kitchen and bathing room; the bath in Room A in the same complex had a ‘heating wall’; and a particularly clear example of a ‘heating wall,’ possibly of Hellenistic date, has been found at Tell Edfu in Egypt, where heated bathing rooms were fairly common.138 Such devices are obviously much more primitive than the banks of flues (tubi ) employed by the Romans. Nevertheless, it is clear that Hellenistic engineers must be credited with the first serious attempts at devising heating systems for houses and baths, in which the smoke, soot (if any), and dust of combustion could be kept entirely outside the area to be heated. To have appreciated the possibility of such a development was in some ways a greater achievement than even the most elaborate systems subsequently conceived by the Romans, who were able, in this as in other aspects of engineering and construction, to build on the basic research of their Hellenistic predecessors.

7 Covered Halls and Storehouses

The buildings discussed in this chapter were used for a variety of purposes: religious celebrations, political assemblies, and the storage of temple properties and civic documents, or as military or naval arsenals, commercial warehouses, or granaries. They are treated together because, despite differences in ground plan, they all posed the problem of roofing an area that might range from several hundred to more than 4000 m2.1 With rare exceptions, the roofing of cult-buildings posed no such problems; for even the largest temples, if not partly hypaethral, were divided by interior walls into smaller and more manageable units (pteron, porches, cella, adyton, or rear room). Moreover, adequate interior lighting was never a significant factor in temples, whereas in secular halls, whether political or commercial in function, it was a much more urgent consideration. Thus, sacred structures, which formed so large a proportion of

Greek monumental building down to the later fifth century, offered little practical assistance in the design of the buildings now to be considered. In earlier times, functions that could not be housed in a roofed building of modest proportions usually took place in the open air, for instance, the early dramatic and choral presentations in the precinct of Dionysos and the meetings of the Athenian ekklesia, or popular assembly. From the late fifth century onward, however, more and more attention was given to the design of large covered halls and storehouses. Most of the important advances made by the Greeks in the construction of such buildings took place in Hellenistic times; but even in the late Hellenistic period the architects of the eastern Mediterranean fell far short of the achievement of Italic and Roman designers working within the framework of the Italo-Hellenistic style.2

A. COVERED ASSEMBLY HALLS These halls may best be considered under two separate heads: large halls such as the Odeion of Perikles at Athens and the Telesterion, or Hall of the Mysteries, at Eleusis, and smaller buildings, generally serving as the meeting places of city councils or other political assembles. The history of the Telesterion is typical of the conservative and uninventive approach of Archaic and Classical architects to the technical problems of roofing (fig. 308).3 The Peisis-

tratid building, the first large structure erected to house the ‘Mystery Pageant’ of Demeter, included in the northwestern corner a separate room, the Anaktoron, or ‘palace,’ where the sacred objects were stored between festivals, and from which they were brought forth during the pageant, to be displayed to the initiates assembled in the hall. The hall itself was slightly over 30 m square internally; the roof was supported by five rows of columns, five in each row except

136

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

on the line of the long wall of the Anaktoron, where there were only two free-standing supports. At this time, the only source of light for the interior must have been from windows in the exterior walls. Since the building was in some sense a specialized form of temple, there was a Doric porch along the southeastern front, ten columns in width with a single column on each return. Steps on which the spectators stood or sat were ranged along the side and rear walls. During the second quarter of the fifth century, under the administration of Kimon, a new and larger structure was begun, but was never completed. The new hall was to have been the same width as its predecessor, but twice as long; the interior roofed area was extended both northwestward, by scarping out the hill of the acropolis behind the sanctuary, and southeastward, by including the former porch area within the hall. The architect thus avoided the need for deep new foundations. Since this Kimonian Telesterion was apparently planned without an entrance porch, it would have appeared much less imposing than the Peisistratid hall. Yet the designer of the new building was evidently more experienced than his predecessor in the construction of large wooden roofs. He thus considered it feasible to support the roof on only twenty-one interior columns arranged in three rows of seven each. Presumably lighting would still have been by means of windows in the exterior walls. The subsequent history of the Telesterion, though clear in general outline, presents problems of chronology and detail. It seems that two distinct plans were drawn up during the Periklean period; one of these is associated with Iktinos, the other, apparently with three successive architects, Koroibos, Metagenes, and Xenokles. The traditional view has been that both plans called for a hall of the same depth as in the Kimonian scheme, but twice as wide; Iktinos’s plan, however, has been thought to have had very long interior spans, so that only twenty interior columns were required (five rows of four each).4 Obviously, spectacles inside the building could be made much more effective, from the viewpoint of the initiates, by dispensing with as many interior supports as possible. F.A. Cooper, however, has recently suggested that the only

remains of the columns of Iktinos’s hall are the two rows of four columns each in the southwestern half of the extant Telesterion terrace; he argues very persuasively that the columns would have been Ionic, not Doric.5 Those who credit Iktinos with a completely new square plan believe that above a central rectangle (of unknown size, but necessarily coinciding with the rows of interior columns) Iktinos’s design called for a raised lantern or clerestory, to provide adequate lighting for the interior of the enlarged hall.6 This design was later abandoned, perhaps because the ten-metre spans of the interior architraves were thought to be too wide. The extant scheme, with forty-two columns in six rows of seven each, was presumably the work of Koroibos and Metagenes; the construction of the roof opening (opaion) was carried out by Xenokles. The designs of Iktinos, Koroibos, and Metagenes evidently did not include a colonnaded entrance porch; at least no such porch was constructed before the fourth century. The foundations of this porch seem to belong to the fifties of the fourth century; they have been variously interpreted as part of a design for a colonnade along the flanks, as well as across the front, and as a scheme for further enlargement of the interior of the hall, virtually doubling the number of spectator spaces.7 The complex history of the interior design of the Telesterion clearly underscores the difficulties that Classical architects experienced in designing large roofed halls. The initial reaction to the need for a larger hall was to increase the length of the building while leaving the width unchanged, though there was some increase in the length of the interior architraves. When it became evident that width as well as the length would have to be increased, the number of interior columns in the Kimonian scheme was eventually doubled. Presumably Iktinos alone considered it feasible to augment both visibility and seating capacity by using a smaller number of columns with much longer axial spans. During the third quarter of the fifth century, Classical Athenian architects, such as Iktinos, Mnesikles, and the architect of the Hephaisteion, had begun to experiment with more spacious and less cluttered interiors. The Hephaisteion at

Covered Halls and Storehouses Athens, the new temple of Poseidon at Sounion, and probably also the temple of Ares, reassembled in Roman times in the Athenian agora, were planned without any interior columns at all, although the design of the cella in the Hephaisteion was soon modified, for aesthetic reasons, to allow for a colonnaded nave. Iktinos abandoned the plan of the Older Parthenon in favour of a design with a free span in the nave in excess of 10 m, and with a broad ambulatory on three sides; and the stone ceiling of the spacious west porch of the Mnesiklean Propylaia still evoked the admiration of Pausanias over five and onehalf centuries later.8 It is therefore not surprising that Iktinos took a bold approach to planning the interior of the Telesterion. Koroibos and Metagenes, who were evidently Iktinos’s successors at Eleusis, evidently regarded Iktinos’s scheme as too bold for the technology of the period, and went back to the forest of interior columns of the Peisistratid and Kimonian schemes, though with northwest–southeast spans slightly longer than those of the Kimonian hall. Their conservative approach is not surprising, since the problems of roofing halls such as the Telesterion could be satisfactorily solved only by the use of triangular trusses; and there is no evidence that Greek architects really understood this device before the Hellenistic age.9 Thus, the designer of the Odeion of Perikles (fig. 233), probably built in the late 440s near the theatre of Dionysos, also employed a large number of interior columns to support the roof. The Odeion measured 62.4 × 68.6 m externally, and contained ninety interior supports (nine rows from east to west, ten from north to south);10 the axial spans were somewhat shorter than those of the extant Telesterion, and little more than half the length of the spans evidently proposed by Iktinos. Similar problems plagued the designer, or designers, of the Arkadian federal assembly hall at Megalopolis, probably built ca. 360 (figs. 236, 309–10), and known as the Thersilion after the man who dedicated it.11 Yet the design of the Thersilion does represent an improvement in internal visibility. The building measured ca. 52.4 × 66.55 m, and probably contained, originally, fifty-six interior supports arranged in

137

five concentric rectangles, along lines radiating out from the spot where speakers stood to address the assembly. As a result of this radiating scheme, the axial spans differ in each rectangle; in the two outer rectangles, the series of radiating lines drawn through the columns of the two inner rectangles had diverged so greatly that intermediate supports became necessary. In the third, or middle, rectangle, the original design apparently had no intermediate supports, so that the axial spans were almost 13.5 m; experience evidently showed these spans to be excessive, and intermediate supports were subsequently inserted. Here, as in the Telesterion, the basic problem arose from an inability to ensure the stability of superimposed tiers of slender interior columns. The need for additional columns must have become evident before the sack of Megalopolis in 222; for the Thersilion was apparently never rebuilt after that disaster, and only its ruins remained in Pausanias’s day.12 During the Hellenistic period, as noted above, Greek architects seem to have mastered the theoretical basis of the triangular truss, and must have employed this device in some of their smaller roofed halls. Yet even Hellenistic architects rarely, if ever, employed truss-work in halls as large as Roman basilicas. As we shall see in a later chapter, long-span trussed ceilings were evidently a native Italic development, by means of which Roman architects of the first century BC were able to roof spans ranging from over 18 m (the nave of Vitruvius’s basilica at Fanum) to more than 25 m (the small theatre at Pompeii and the Odeion of Agrippa in the Athenian agora).13 The longest known Hellenistic spans are probably those of the Bouleuterion, or council-house, at Miletos (figs. 324–5); it is not known whether the small theatre in the Messenian Asklepieion (fig. 311) was roofed.14 The Milesian building had free spans between the interior columns of about 16.5 m. The hall at Messene, despite its overall width of some 21 m, has no traces of internal supports in the well-preserved seating area; if it was in fact a roofed, rather than an open-air, building, it probably postdates the establishment of Roman sovereignty in Greece in 146, and shows the influence of Roman practice.

138

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

The Milesian council-house was a Seleukid gift to the city, dedicated to the Seleukid king Antiochus IV Epiphanes. Before his accession to the throne in 174, Antiochos IV had spent a considerable time in Rome as a hostage for the good behaviour of the Seleukid rulers; and he employed a Roman architect to design the new Olympieion at Athens. It is thus possible that middle and late Hellenistic understanding of the theory of long-span truss-work was due to a closer acquaintance with the achievements of Italo-Hellenistic architecture west of the Adriatic. Around 200, that is, just before the commencement of an active Roman presence east of the Adriatic, the so-called Ekklesiasterion, or assembly hall, at Priene was built with free spans of nearly 14.4 m (figs. 312–13). It is generally assumed that some form of truss-work must have been used in this building; yet the spans are much the same as those in the remodelled porches of the temple of Artemis at Sardis, which probably date from the early second century. In any case, the designers of the Priene building were clearly not completely at home with the use of trusses; the interior spans were later thought to have been excessively wide, and were reduced by almost one-quarter.15 More typical of late-third-century work is the roofing of the Hypostyle Hall on Delos (figs. 314– 15). This building is the closest known Hellenistic parallel to the Roman basilica; yet it has little of the spacious effect of Roman structures, the longest free spans being less than ten metres. Although Delian inscriptions refer to the structure as a stoa, it is sometimes said that its plan bears no resemblance to that of a normal stoa.16 This statement is only partly true, even if the term ‘stoa’ is used, as in modern literature, exclusively of such buildings as the Stoa of Attalos in the Athenian agora and the Sacred Stoa at Priene. If we define a stoa as an oblong building with solid back, and perhaps solid end, walls, with all or most of the front occupied by an open colonnade, and with one or more interior lengthwise divisions, then the Delian building is clearly a stoa, despite the unusual treatment of the roof. The Stoa of Philip II at Megalopolis was divided lengthwise into three open aisles; the South Stoa at Corinth had four length-

wise divisions (two open aisles, a row of shops, and a row of rear rooms); and the East Stoa of the large South Agora at Miletos also had four divisions (open aisle, shops opening off the aisle, rear rooms, and a second row of shops facing the street outside to the east).17 All these buildings, however, were long and narrow; in the Hypostyle Hall the length was reduced to about 1.65 times the width, and there were six lengthwise divisions behind the colonnaded facade. Obviously, a building with five rows of interior supports was likely to present problems in both roofing and lighting – the latter being especially important in a structure apparently designed to serve as a sort of commercial exchange. Even with windows in the east, north, and west walls, the central portion of the two middle ‘aisles’ would often have been rather dark, too much so, in all probability, for business functions. Like the architect of the Thersilion at Megalopolis, the designers of the Delian hall solved this problem in a fashion more remarkable for its ingenuity than for its technical skill. Within the building are two rectangles of interior supports. The columns of the outer rectangle were Doric, nine in width and five in depth; those of the inner were taller and of the Ionic order, seven by three on plan. Between the second, third, fifth, and sixth pairs of columns in the inner rectangle were four more Ionic columns of the same height; the central square, bounded by three Ionic columns on each of its four sides, was left open. A hip-roof (with four slopes) was constructed above the two complete rectangles of columns; the ridge-beams were supported by the two groups of Ionic columns, three in each group, along the axis of the building. Above the eight Ionic columns of the central square stood eight slender piers, with parapets between them, rising above the hip-roof to support a lantern, or clerestory; the large openings between the parapets and the roof of the clerestory admitted light directly to the central part of the interior. The lantern of the Hypostyle Hall is the earliest Greek example of such a structure of which there are extant remains; unfortunately we have little definite information about possible predecessors. The rear portion of the early Hellenistic South Stoa at Corinth seems to have had a

Covered Halls and Storehouses broken roof-line, to allow for small clerestory windows lighting the inner lengthwise division of the upper storey.18 Moreover, many scholars believe that there were lanterns in the Telesterion at Eleusis, the Odeion of Perikles at Athens, and the Thersilion at Megalopolis.19 It has also been suggested that the Tholoi at Delphi and Epidauros and the Philippeion at Olympia had, or may have had, a broken roof-line, though there is no suggestion that any of these circular buildings had windows in the central drum.20 G.Roux, however, does not accept the existence of a raised drum in the Tholos at Delphi; and recent restorations of the Philippeion and the Tholos at Epidauros have also shown a simple conical roof.21 In any event, the broken roof-lines proposed for these buildings and adopted for the South Stoa at Corinth are rather different from the lanterns suggested for the Odeion of Perikles, the Telesterion, and the Thersilion. Since there is no physical evidence of lanterns in any of these large halls, the existence or non-existence of such a feature must be determined on the basis of literary evidence and general probability. Unfortunately, when Pausanias saw the Thersilion it had long been in ruins. Yet it is clear that the Thersilion and theatre at Megalopolis formed a single unit. There were obvious advantages in holding meetings of the large federal assembly of the Arkadians in the open air; probably the meetings were held in the theatre, except in inclement weather, when they took place in the Thersilion.22 It would of course have been necessary to provide adequate lighting for the area occupied by the presiding officials and the recording scribes. Yet the arrangement of the interior columns suggests that speakers stood at the point from which the lines of columns radiated; probably the officials and scribes sat behind them, on a long dais just inside the large openings at the back of the Doric entrance porch. These openings, together with windows in the upper part of the walls, would have provided quite enough light for carrying on the business of the assembly. It is true that even with windows in all the exterior walls, much of the interior of the building would have been quite poorly lit; but it is doubtful whether a lantern high above the square in which the

139

speakers stood would have done much to improve the overall lighting. A lantern above the second, rather than the innermost, rectangle of supports would have been much more satisfactory; there is, however, no evidence for such a large clerestory. Moreover, with the radiating arrangement of the interior supports, the construction even of simple roof slopes must have presented quite enough problems, without the further complication of a clerestory. Thus, we should probably not assume the existence of such a feature without some clear evidence of its use in earlier halls. In the case of the Odeion of Perikles, we know that the poet Kratinos compared the shape of the roof to Perikles’ pointed head;23 and the extant remains show that the building was not far from a square on plan (62.4 × 68.6 m). The most natural interpretation of the comic poet’s reference, and of the supposed resemblance of the building to Xerxes’ tent, suggests a simple roof of four slopes rising to a central point. Yet with an even number of columns in the north– south direction it would have been impossible to arrange four roof slopes rising to a point in such a way that the diagonal beams were supported by the interior columns. A short ridge-beam would have been required between the fifth and sixth rows of east–west columns; or, alternatively, there could have been either an opening in the roof or a raised lantern above the central rectangle (two spans E–W and one span N–S). The comparison with the shape of Perikles’ head could have been suggested by the shape of the small roof of a lantern perched above the main roof slopes of the building. In these circumstances, a lantern is perhaps more likely than an opening in the roof, although the latter possibility certainly cannot be discounted. The Classical Telesterion at Eleusis also had an even number of interior supports in one direction, an odd number in the other (six by seven in the scheme of Koroibos and Metagenes). Our sources tell us that Xenokles completed the opaion of the Telesterion.24 Noack and others have understood opaion in the sense of an opening in the roof, that is, an enlarged version of the opaion tiles of which actual examples survive; philologically, this is perhaps the more

140

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

probable meaning. Dinsmoor, Travlos, and Mylonas, however, take opaion to mean a lantern; Dinsmoor maintains that Xenokles’ work would hardly have merited special mention had it consisted merely of framing the central opening. Yet this argument is not compelling. Until the time of Iktinos, the Telesterion was evidently lighted only by windows in the walls, which could easily be covered by awnings or shutters that were suddenly drawn aside to admit the daylight to the building. The design and construction of a large roof opening serving the same purpose would have been a difficult task, involving as it did some method of keeping out rainwater while admitting light. Yet if covered by an awning that could be quickly drawn back, such an opening could have been used to admit a sudden and dramatic flood of light directly into the interior. Thus, Xenokles’ name might well be long remembered in the annals of the sanctuary. On the whole, the balance of probability seems slightly against, rather than in favour of, a lantern for the Telesterion; certainly it is difficult to see how the ends of the short ridge-beam of the lantern shown in illustrations of the Museum model could have been adequately supported.25 If there was no lantern on the Telesterion – and it must be emphasized that this view is as tentative as that of Dinsmoor and others in favour of a lantern – there would seem to be no good reason for restoring a lantern in the roofs of the Odeion of Perikles and the Thersilion at Megalopolis, although both these buildings may have had simple roof openings similar to that suggested for the Eleusinian hall. Obviously, a lantern would have been an even better device for admitting light while excluding most of the rain (and sometimes snow). Yet good lighting seems not to have been of much importance to Greek designers, if we may judge from the example of the arsenal of Philo at Peiraieus discussed below (pp. 150–1, 152–3). Light must surely have been as necessary in this building, for storage, retrieval, and record-keeping, as in an Odeion or an assembly hall; yet the long nave, measuring 400 Greek feet, was lighted only by double doors and a single window at either end, the storage areas in the upper and lower levels of the aisles only by small windows. A clerestory,

such as Vitruvius describes in the basilica at Fanum,26 would certainly have been very useful in the Peiraieus arsenal; the fact that Philo’s design did not include such a feature strongly suggests that the advantages of lanterns and clerestories were as yet unknown in Greek architecture, or at least unappreciated. As far as our knowledge goes, there was no pressing need for such structures in the Archaic period, and indeed only rarely before Hellenistic times, to which all certain, or reasonably certain, examples belong. The lantern of the Hypostyle Hall on Delos thus marks an important milestone, both for our understanding of Greek architecture and for the development of the Roman civil basilica. The Delian lantern was modest in scale when compared with the clerestories of the Julian and Aemilian basilicas in the Forum Romanum. Yet as we shall see in a later chapter, Ptolemaic palace architecture probably included a number of large audience and banquet halls with a clerestory above a large central area, which was surrounded by a narrow ambulatory with its roof at a lower level. A banquet hall with a clerestory seems to have been a feature of the Thalamegos, the river-barge of Ptolemy IV, where the idea was presumably inspired by the palace architecture of Alexandria. Similar arrangements might even be found in temporary structures such as the symposiumtent of Ptolemy II, a description of which is preserved in the Deipnosophists of Athenaeus.27 The hall with clerestory is found in the north oecus of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya, probably by the end of the first century BC; and the basilicas recommended for the houses of men of rank by Vitruvius were presumably based on Alexandrian models.28 Large clerestories may also have been used in the architecture of Seleukid Syria; but we have no direct evidence for this region before the Roman period. As far as our knowledge goes at present, the development of large-scale clerestories took place in the Ptolemaic and Italo-Hellenistic traditions; the architects of Greece, the Aegean, and Asia Minor evidently made few, if any, significant contributions. We have already referred to the ‘Ekklesiasterion’ at Priene and the council-house at Miletos

Covered Halls and Storehouses in connection with the use of roof trusses in Hellenistic architecture; yet the account of Philo’s arsenal at Peiraieus, preserved in IG II2.1668, mentions neither roof trusses nor clerestory in that building, although both could have been employed to advantage. We must now consider in more detail the structure of smaller halls, such as council-houses, in Classical and Hellenistic times. Over fifty years ago W.A. McDonald collected and discussed the literary and archaeological evidence that was available about such buildings up to the beginning of the Second World War. The majority of the evidence comes from the Hellenistic period, although many of the civic assembly halls mentioned in Hellenistic or later inscriptions may have been built in pre-Hellenistic times, while earlier plans and methods of construction obviously survived into the Hellenistic, and even the Roman, periods. McDonald recognized two main types of plan: long and narrow structures, such as the Bouleuterion, or council-house, at Olympia, and buildings, whether square or oblong on plan, in which the width was much greater in proportion to the length. He also noted that Vitruvius, in his discussion of the proportions of the Curia (Senate-house), dealt only with buildings of the second type.29 In a recent survey of this type of bouleuterion, V. Kockel notes that there are three different arrangements of the auditoria: seats in a rectilinear plan, all more or less at a single level; a rectangle of rising tiers of seats; and rising tiers of curvilinear seats.30 Long, narrow buildings were generally preferred by the Greeks in earlier times, and also were likely to be found in contexts wherever funds or up-to-date building technology were lacking. Vitruvius, however, clearly would not have approved of such plans. The reasons for his preference were twofold. In the first place, he took for granted Roman and Italic skill in the construction of long-span ceilings and roofs, and realized that the wider the hall, the more effective the interior both visually and acoustically. Second, Vitruvius believed that the Curia, should reflect the size and dignity of the city; he therefore recommends that such buildings be much higher than any known Greek examples.

141

The height of square buildings is to be 1.5 times the width, of oblong structures half the sum of the width and the length. If these formulae had been used for the roofed hall at Priene and the council-house at Miletos (figs. 312–13, 324–5), the former would have been about 27.65 m, the latter about 29.5 m, high overall. Such impressive height was eminently reasonable in buildings facing directly on to a forum or agora, such as the Curia Julia at Rome. Yet even in Hellenistic times the Greeks, unlike the Romans, generally preferred to set their councilhouses slightly apart from the noise and bustle of the agora. For example, the New Bouleuterion at Athens was separated from the agora initially by the rebuilt Old Bouleuterion,31 later by the Hellenistic Metroon; the hall at Priene was cut off from the agora by the North Stoa; the bouleuterion at Assos, although it faced on to the agora, from which it was entered, was still slightly set apart from the main open area (figs. 124, 120, 113). In such situations the height recommended by Vitruvius would have created a great deal of expensive wasted space under the roof, while adding little or nothing to the imposing effect of the building as seen from the outside. The councilhouse complex at Miletos was certainly an impressive example of Hellenistic architectural design, but stood completely apart from both the North and the South Agora. The main building was therefore designed to harmonize with the scale of its own courtyard, the exterior walls rising to about 13 m, or a little more than twice the height of the colonnades of the court. In the long, narrow buildings of earlier times, great height in proportion to the modest width would have been even more absurd. The proportions of buildings such as the double hall at Olympia, the long, narrow plan of which was evidently used in other examples from many different periods, were clearly very much like those of stoas, as was the case also with the arsenal of Philo at Peiraieus (figs. 333a–b: length 400 Greek feet; height of walls, including Doric frieze, 27 feet).32 In fact, some Greek council-houses seem to have been designed in the form of a winged stoa, as in the sanctuary at Kalaureia, where the structure identified as the council-house seems to date from the early third century. The winged

142

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

stoa in the agora at Mantineia, however, was not, in my opinion, a bouleuterion.33 In any event, such halls presented no problems not previously solved in the design of stoas, whether in sacred or secular contexts. The history of the bouleuterion as a distinct architectural form seems to begin in late Archaic Athens, where the first Bouleuterion was perhaps built soon after the constitutional reforms of Kleisthenes. The quarters provided for the new Council of 500 were hardly lavish, either in scale or in construction. The building was approximately square (ca. 23 × 23 m); there were evidently four or five interior supports for the roof, with free spans of modest width. Little survives of the building above the level of the foundations; it is thought that the exterior walls were built entirely of stone, but the upper portions may have been stuccoed mudbrick. There is no evidence whatever of seats, which were probably of wood, like those of the contemporary early theatre of Dionysos. Wooden seats are likely to have been arranged in tiers around three sides of a rectangle; speakers probably stood in the middle of this area, with the presiding officials and scribes seated behind the speaker but facing the assembly. This Old Bouleuterion was destroyed by the Persians in 480, but must soon have been rebuilt. The rebuilt structure continued in use as a council-house at least until the late fifth century, when a new building was built behind it to the west. The excavators interpreted this new structure as a replacement for the Old Bouleuterion, which thereafter served only to house the state archives.34 In late Hellenistic times the old building was replaced by the new Metroon; at that time the late-fifth-century building, whatever its original function, must certainly have become the ‘New Bouleuterion.’ The Hellenistic Metroon was actually a complex of rooms housing both the cult of the Mother of the Gods and the archives of the city.35 The New Bouleuterion (fig. 124) was slightly smaller than its predecessor, but also more carefully designed. An internal north–south wall probably separated the council chamber proper from a vestibule along the east side of the interior. In Hellenistic times an Ionic porch was

built along the south side; the short east end of this porch stood at the western end of ‘CouncilHouse Lane,’ which led along the south side of the Metroon from the open area of the agora. The facade of the Ionic porch faced southward over the irregular courtyard between the Bouleuterion and the Tholos, where the presiding committees of the council held their meetings during their period of service. There seems to be no evidence for stone seats in the ‘New Bouleuterion’ before the Hellenistic age; and the date of the scanty fragments that do survive is quite uncertain.36 Foundations for two interior supports were doubtless incorporated in the north– south wall that separated the chamber from the vestibule; it is assumed that there were two more interior columns aligned with the first pair, a short distance away from the western exterior wall; but no actual remains of these have survived. Fragments of curving stone seats found in the area, and regarded by the excavators as part of an early Hellenistic remodelling that included the construction of the Ionic porch along the south side of the building, may just as easily be closer in date to the building of the new Metroon. These stone seats were presumably arranged in a semicircle, in the fashion actually preserved in the interior of the council-house at Miletos (fig. 324–5); in fact, the final form of the Athenian building has been restored on the analogy of its Milesian counterpart. If the proposed restoration of the Hellenistic Bouleuterion took place before 175, the Athenian building must have been the prototype of later auditoria of similar plan, whether used as council-chambers, or as lecture halls or odeia (music halls), or, as was sometimes the case, for all these purposes. Yet the evidence for both date and interior arrangements at Athens is very scanty. In fact, the building may have attained its final form only in the second quarter of the second century, shortly before the Hellenistic Metroon was constructed;37 in that event it doubtless copied, rather than inspired, the form of the new building erected at Miletos, about 170, by two courtiers of Antiochos IV Epiphanes. Indeed, the Seleukid king, who was also responsible during this period for the redesigning of the Athenian Olympieion as a Corinthian dipteros,38

Covered Halls and Storehouses may also have paid for the reconstruction of the Bouleuterion. Circular seating plans had in fact already been used in the small council-house at Lousoi in Arkadia (fig. 316.D), and in the building identified as the Bouleuterion at Eleusis.39 These structures, however, were much smaller in scale than the Milesian complex; and the remains are so scanty that they cannot be closely dated, although both appear to be Hellenistic. The tiers of seats in the covered auditorium at Troy were laid out in curvilinear form around a central ‘orchestra’; but the building at Troy seems to be of Roman date.40 On balance, it is likely that the development of council-houses (and odeia) of the Milesian type was due to Seleukid architects, whose plans were later copied at Athens and elsewhere, including the western Mediterranean (e.g., in the Odeum, or Theatrum Tectum, at Pompeii). The techniques employed for roofing many of the Italic buildings, by contrast, were primarily the work of Italo-Hellenistic architects, and only later spread to Greece, the Aegean, and Asia Minor.41 Hellenistic architects of the eastern Mediterranean were clearly more concerned with ease of construction and with adequate rather than impressive interiors. Thus, many Hellenistic halls had the seats arranged in a rectangle, and larger halls usually had a considerable number of interior supports; seats arranged in an arc of a circle permitted a slightly larger number of spaces within the width of the building. If the number of councillors was small, the hall might have three simple divisions: lower (for speakers, presiding officials, and scribes), intermediate (with rising tiers of seats in straight or slightly curved lines), and upper (a platform or landing of varying width between the highest tier of seats and the rear wall of the council chamber). In one form or another rear landings are a common feature of Greek council-houses. Where the seats were arranged around three sides of a rectangle, landings might be found along the sides as well as across the back of the chamber; if the seating area was semicircular, the landings were often confined to the triangular areas in the rear corners of the chamber. A vestibule or corridor between the auditorium proper and

143

the front wall of the building seems to occur only when stone seats were laid out in a semicircle or around three sides of a rectangle. In such cases, it was necessary to construct retaining walls to hold in the fill on which the lateral banks of seats were supported. These retaining walls usually sloped down towards the central area; nevertheless, they effectively isolated the auditorium from the corridor or vestibule. This corridor, which corresponds architecturally to the parodoi of Greek theatres, could easily have been used by small groups for caucusing, without interfering with the deliberations of the council as a whole. The ‘Ekklesiasterion’ at Priene is probably the best known example of an auditorium with seats arranged in a rectangular plan (figs. 312–13). Clearly, the whole design aimed at achieving the maximum possible economy of construction. The ground rises steeply from the south toward ‘Athena Street,’ which ran behind the building to the north; thus, the whole of the northern bank of seats could be laid on natural slopes, with only a little scarping needed to produce the desired gradient. On the east and west, however, the lateral banks of seats had to be bedded mainly on artificial fill held in by retaining walls. Thus, there were fewer rows of seats along the sides than across the back; in fact, the northern bank could accommodate a slightly larger number of persons than the eastern and western banks combined. The greater height of the northern bank also brought the rear landing more or less to the level of ‘Athena Street,’ permitting direct entry to the back of the auditorium. The same economy of construction is found in the plain and unadorned exterior of the hall, the south wall of which in any event was later hidden behind the North Stoa of the agora, while the eastern wall was a party wall shared with the Prytaneion. The landings behind the lateral banks of seats were probably directly accessible by stairways leading up from the vestibule, to which small groups could thus withdraw without walking across the ‘floor of the House.’ Additional stairs led up from the lateral landings to the rear landing. In the middle of the south wall of the building a large archway spanned the entrance to an exedra, projecting

144

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

beyond the south wall and containing a bench. Curiously enough, the exedra was unroofed, so that the bench was actually in the open air. It has sometimes been assumed that this exedra was intended for the presiding officials;42 but its location, partly outside the building and out of sight of part of the assembly, makes this view rather unlikely. Architecturally, the main auditorium, in spite of its simple forms, was conceived as a single uncluttered space. The designers had not the technical skill to roof the whole building without interior supports. A series of plain rectangular piers was therefore set along the top row of seats on the east, north, and west; these piers, together with the retaining walls along the south side of the main chamber, enclosed a space over 14.5 m square. The main beams of the roof ran from east to west, between the lateral rows of piers; the continuation of the piers across the top of the north bank of seats merely served to isolate the actual seating area from the landings that surrounded it on three sides. The roof of the building subsequently collapsed, perhaps as a result of an earthquake or a fire; in the course of rebuilding, the lateral piers were moved inward three rows of seats on each side, reducing the spans of the roof-beams by about one-quarter.43 Presumably, the original span of ca. 14.5 m was considered excessive. It is generally assumed that there were windows in the upper part of the south wall, and perhaps also in the west wall; but there is no evidence of carved ornament on either face of the walls, and the capitals of the piers were doubtless quite simple. Herakleia-under-Latmos, at the inner end of the ancient Latmian Gulf, was a much larger city than Priene. Its well-preserved walls and towers are perhaps the most impressive in early Hellenistic Asia Minor;44 and there are considerable remains of the agora and its surroundings, including the building that seems to have been the council-house. Unfortunately, this complex has not been excavated, and many blocks have been removed for reuse in the village (figs. 317– 19). The visible remains were drawn and studied by F. Krischen, K. Lyncker, and K. Wulzinger in 1912, and again by H. Hormann in 1925; ¨ Wulzinger published a description and recon-

struction of the building in Krischen’s Antike Rath¨auser.45 The structure at Herakleia has sometimes been dated ca. 300, but this date seems too early; the obvious typological associations with the ‘Assembly Hall’ at Priene and the Bouleuterion at Miletos (dated ca. 200 and 170 respectively) suggest that the Herakleian hall was built ca. 170–150, that is, a little later than the larger hall at Miletos.46 As at Priene, the Herakleian council-house adjoined the agora, yet was effectively separated from it; the rectangular layout of the seats, making as much use as possible of natural underpinnings, also recalls Priene. The hall at Herakleia, however, was smaller (15.67 × 21.84 m, as against 20.25 × 21.1 at Priene), with perhaps only half as many seating places. Like the Bouleuterion at Miletos, it had its own private colonnaded court. On the free-standing east and north sides, the upper part of the exterior walls was decorated with Doric half-columns; a row of Ionic dentils stood above the Doric triglyphs of the entablature. On the interior the decoration of half-columns probably continued around all four walls. Four free-standing Ionic columns, set in a square just outside the rectangle of the seats, supported the roof-beams, even though the free span between the side walls was slightly less than 13.5 m, that is, more than one metre shorter than the span of the main beams at Priene. Like the interior half-columns, the four Ionic columns were presumably meant to enhance the appearance of the hall.47 To the south of the council-house was a courtyard with Ionic colonnades on the north and east sides. The east colonnade was probably two aisles deep throughout its length; that on the north perhaps had a row of interior columns extending the line of the south wall of the main chamber westward from the southwestern corner of the building. Against the northern portion of the west wall of the council-chamber was built an antechamber with a small room behind; it is not clear whether this room served as a shrine, as a storeroom, as a guard’s house, or for some other purpose. The colonnades of the courtyard were probably flat-roofed, with the roof platform perhaps accessible by a wooden staircase in the southeastern corner of the court.

Covered Halls and Storehouses The Ionic columns evidently supported an Ionic entablature; but the discovery of different sizes of Doric frieze-blocks suggests that some of these blocks may have decorated the outer face of the rear wall of the colonnade on the east side of the courtyard.48 A peculiar feature of the council-chamber at Herakleia is the sunken interior. The two doors in the south wall, and a presumed third door in the north (or rear) wall, had thresholds at the level of the landing that surrounded the seating area. From this level steps must have led downward to the central square where the speakers stood to address the council; the floor of this area is ca. 2.23 m below the level of the landings. There are no traces of stairways in the northeastern and northwestern corners of the auditorium; the stairways must therefore have been placed along the south side of the eastern and western banks of seats. A narrower landing may have extended along the south wall between the two southern doorways; or the traces of construction on this side may simply be part of the seating arrangements for the presiding officials and scribes. Everywhere except at the southeastern corner of the building the seats and landings were probably supported on natural underpinnings; in the one area where these were lacking, the outer walls of the building also served as retaining walls for the fill, which was easily obtained in the course of trenching, levelling, and smoothing the natural contours. Because of the falling ground level, the exterior face of the east and south walls was exposed at the southeastern corner to a depth of almost three courses (ca. 1.2 m) below the floor level of the central square of the interior.49 The outer face of the south wall was revetted in marble from the more easterly of the two doorways to the southwestern corner of the building; around the southeastern angle, and along the east side and the east end of the north wall, blocks with slightly bossed faces, laid as headers and stretchers, formed the visible exterior face of the walls. The style of the preserved masonry is a clear indication of the Hellenistic date of the building. The presence of a colonnaded courtyard, the use in this court of Ionic colonnades, and the elaborate architectural

145

ornament of both the interior and the exterior of the main hall all point to a date well down into the Hellenistic period. As already noted, the associations with the halls at Miletos and Priene suggest that the Herakleian council-house is later than both of these. The careful overall planning, which Wulzinger has noted throughout the design, is also in keeping with a date ca. 170–150. Many Hellenistic bouleuteria were even simpler than that at Herakleia, or even the ‘Ekklesiasterion’ at Priene. The council-house at Sikyon (fig. 320) is a good example of a building that probably served a variety of purposes.50 The Sikyonian building must be later than the end of the fourth century, when the city of Sikyon was removed to a new and more defensible site by Demetrios Poliorketes;51 it is usually assigned to the early third century. It was virtually square on plan, about 40 m each way; the roof was supported by sixteen columns, in four rows of four each. However, only part of the interior was used for meetings of the council. The seats were very simple, of packed earth and mudbrick, coated with stucco to hold the shape. There were perhaps water basins, for the use of the councillors, flanking the actual auditorium. The remainder of the hall may have been used for storing the council archives. Dinsmoor thinks that there was a lantern over the central square, but the building could have been lighted simply by an opening in the roof, as suggested for the Odeion of Perikles at Athens and the Telesterion at Eleusis. A similar arrangement was perhaps used in the council-house at Notion, on the coast northwest of Ephesos.52 This building, the interior of which is completely ruined, measured about 27 × 22.5 m (fig. 321); there was a series of interior supports around three sides of the rectangle, set close to the exterior walls. The resulting free span of some twenty metres could have been covered by a trussed roof; but the use of more closely set interior supports at Priene and Miletos suggests that the central area was either hypaethral, as Schuchhardt thought, or else provided with an inner rectangle of supports of which no traces are visible. The building was certainly not built before the Hellenistic age; if it did in fact have a roof with twenty-metre spans,

146

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

it most probably postdates the coming of the Romans. The remains of two very simple bouleuteria have been found in the agora at Assos (fig. 113) in northwestern Asia Minor and in the sanctuary of Apollo at Thermon in Aitolia.53 The Aitolian building measured ca. 26 × 20 m on the exterior; a projecting foundation in the middle of the entrance wall probably supported a colonnaded porch. Presumably there were interior columns to support the roof, as at Assos. The interior probably had tiers of wooden seats set out in a rectangular plan. The building at Assos was about the same width as the hall at Thermon, but was square, about 20.5 m each way, with four interior columns, two of which are partly preserved in situ (figs. 322–3, plan and interior restoration). On the facade toward the agora the walls returned a short distance across the front at each end, with five Doric columns in antis between the returns; owing to the relationship of the building to the open area of the agora, the southern return of the wall was somewhat shorter than that on the north. There are no traces either of seats or of an internal crosswall dividing the building into a vestibule and main chamber. Yet it seems unlikely that the councillors were expected to stand throughout the meetings. Probably there were tiers of wooden seats around the north, east, and south sides of the square framed by the interior columns, as shown in figures 322–3. Speakers would have stood in the central square; the presiding officials and scribes were doubtless seated on a dais erected more or less on a line linking the western pair of interior columns. It is possible that behind this dais a low north–south barrier, with entrance-gates, divided the interior into a main chamber and a sort of vestibule just inside the columns of the facade.54 The Bouleuterion at Miletos was much larger and more elaborate than any of the preceding examples.55 It included not only the actual council-hall, but also a forecourt surrounded by Doric colonnades on three sides (figs. 324–5); the fourth side was closed by the east wall of the council-hall. The courtyard was entered from the east by an elaborate Corinthian propylon, with four columns prostyle on the exterior, two in

antis on the interior. The exterior walls of the complex were built in the decorative pseudoisodomic style much favoured by Hellenistic designers. The upper half of the walls of the council chamber was decorated with Doric half-columns, and thus resembled a pseudo-peripteral temple. In some of the intercolumnar spaces there were windows; others were decorated with relief shields. The capitals of the half-columns (fig. 326), as noted elsewhere, were copied from the Karyatids of the Erechtheion at Athens; the entablature included Ionic dentils above a Doric frieze. The overall axial design resembles the palaistra built in the same century, on the opposite, or eastern, side of the great avenue linking the harbour area of Miletos with the South Agora (figs. 128, 290–1). Since the council-house stood on virtually level ground, the stone seats were supported on an artificial fill held in place by retaining walls; these walls divided the auditorium proper from a long vestibule on the side towards the courtyard. The Milesian hall is the earliest datable example of a large hall with stone seats laid out in a semicircle. The seating capacity (at least 1200) was very generous. There were two Ionic columns raised on pedestals incorporated in the retaining walls of the auditorium; probably two others should be restored in the upper part of the seating area. Dinsmoor remarks that the design of the Milesian building is unsatisfactory, since the semicircular arrangement of the seats contradicts the rectangular plan of the exterior.56 Yet this was clearly not the view of later Hellenistic and Roman architects, who adopted the Milesian plan, with or without variations, for many later council-houses and music halls. The semicircular arrangement of the seats left triangular landings in the rear corners of the hall. These landings were accessible from the street outside to the west by means of stairways leading up from doors in the west wall. Given the desirability of entrances at the rear of the building, and consequently of rear landings, it is doubtful whether a rectangular seating plan could have provided as many seats, while still retaining the harmonious effect of the existing semicircular plan. The construction of the roof represents a further advance over the hall at Priene in the handling of long-span truss-work;

Covered Halls and Storehouses the east–west spans of slightly more than 16 m are the longest definitely known in any building of Hellenistic date. On the whole, the Milesian building represents a major milestone, both in the design of Hellenistic covered halls and in the development of Greek long-span trusses, and may well have owed something to the long acquaintance of Antiochos IV with Rome. By this period Roman architects were thoroughly familiar with long-span wooden roofs,57 although it was apparently only in Roman Imperial times that they borrowed from theatres the idea of supporting much of the seating of council-houses and odeia on a vaulted ring-corridor beneath the tiers of marble seats, as in the halls at Nysa, east of Tralles, and at Apollonia in Illyria.58 It has sometimes been suggested that the principle of the roof-truss was discovered in the Archaic period, by Sicilian Greek architects; yet if such was the case, it is surprising that the significance of the discovery for the construction of long-span wooden roofs remained unappreciated for so long, both in the West and by architects of the Aegean world, and that even west of the Adriatic the complete exploitation of the truss was left to non-Greek designers.59 The halls at Alabanda and Termessos, though less ambitious than the Bouleuterion at Miletos, have better-preserved exteriors, especially at Termessos. The Termessian building measured about 24.5 m per side (figs. 327–30); a great deal of the exterior walls is still preserved, standing to a height of as much as ten metres. The hall at Alabanda was a good deal larger, measuring about 26 × 36 m overall (figs. 331–2).60 Some of its south wall still stands to a considerable height, but most of the upper portion is now missing, while the lower portion is partly buried in the earth of the surrounding fields. The interior of both buildings is filled with debris, so that only the general outlines of the design can be discerned. The Termessian building was near to the southeastern corner of the agora; that at Alabanda lay just outside the northwestern corner of a large enclosure (about 114 × 72 m, and probably colonnaded on all four sides) that has usually been regarded as the agora,61 partly at least on account of its proximity to the supposed bouleuterion. The site at Alabanda is virtually

147

level. At Termessos, the ground rises steeply from the front to the rear of the building; as in the ‘Ekklesiasterion’ at Priene, there was a doorway in the back wall (the side most easily accessible from the agora) at the level of the landing behind the highest tier of seats. The hall at Alabanda was about the same size as the covered hall in the bouleuterion complex at Miletos; the agora was similar in area to that of Herakleia, but much smaller than those of Magnesia and Miletos. The front wall of the Alabandan building was divided into upper and lower levels by a boldly projecting cornice, which probably continued around the other three sides. Above this cornice, the upper part of the front wall (and probably also of the other three) was enlivened by an order of pilasters, presumably carrying a complete entablature. It is possible that the cuttings in the outer faces of the walls were for the roof-beams of porches (of varying depth) on all sides of the building. The cuttings certainly seem ancient, but the number and shape vary from one side to the next, with no two sides identical. At least on the south side, that is, facing toward both the sun and the agora, there were large windows in some of the intervals between the pilasters; additional windows may have been provided on one or more of the remaining sides. There were at least two doors in the south wall; from doors in the east and west walls stairs led up to rear landings. The front ‘vestibule’ apparently extended the full east–west length of the building; the seats, which may have been laid out on a shallow curve rather than a semicircle, rose from this lower floor area toward the landing at the back of the hall. Presumably speakers stood on the floor at the bottom of the rising tiers of seats, with the presiding officials and scribes seated on a dais behind them, and facing the audience. The size of the hall suggests that there must have been four interior supports; two of these could have been incorporated in the retaining walls of the auditorium, as at Miletos, with the other pair located near the top of the rising tiers of seats. This arrangement of interior supports would have produced free spans for the roof-beams only marginally, if at all, greater than those of the Assembly Hall at Priene. The

148

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

examples of Miletos and Herakleia suggest that the interior order was Ionic. The date can only be surmised; the pseudo-isodomic masonry and the pilaster decoration of the exterior walls is in keeping with the mid-second century; thus, the building may well have been a gift of the Attalids of Pergamon. The niche-ornament of the inner face of the front wall seems to me to be post-Hellenistic, or at least an addition to the original design. The better-preserved upper portions of the council-house at Termessos are useful in restoring the missing, or buried, details at Alabanda, such as door and window frames and the Doric entablature of the pilasters; for despite differences in plan and style of masonry, the two buildings clearly fall within the same general pattern. Alabanda, however, was much closer to the mainstream of Hellenistic architecture in the Aegean world; thus, some of the ornamental details, such as the addition of a projecting moulding-course beneath the stringcourse on which the pilasters stand, is more elaborate than anything at Termessos. At Termessos, the pilasters were confined to the east, north, and west sides, that is, the front, or entrance, wall and the parts of the exterior that were easily visible as one approached the northwestern corner of the building from the direction of the agora. There were windows only on the east front and the south side. The ground level behind the building lay some six metres higher than on the east; in the interior the highest tier of seats and the rear landing were about seven metres above the floor level on the east. The blocks of the uppermost tiers of seats that are still in situ suggest a total of eighteen rows. Four interior columns, two on the lower level, the other two on the rear landing just behind the highest row of seats, would have reduced the free spans of the roof to about twelve metres. A dais for officials and scribes must have been provided just inside the east wall, in the space between the doorways. The building was probably erected during the period of Pergamene hegemony after the battle of Magnesia in 190, perhaps as part of the building program of Attalos II (159–138), who also constructed a new stoa along the north side of the Termessos agora.62

Krischen estimates the seating capacity of the Termessos hall at about 600, slightly less than the 640 calculated for the hall at Priene, where the overall area of the building was only about 427 m2, against some 600 m2 at Termessos. The Termessian building, however, was clearly more imposing on the exterior and more spacious inside than its counterpart at Priene, or for that matter the New Bouleuterion at Athens. There was more floor space at the front of the hall, and a larger rear landing, since the seats were laid out in an arc of a circle, rather than in a semicircle as at Miletos and Athens, or in a rectangle as at Priene. Thus, there was no need for interior retaining walls; the rising ground level allowed the seats to be bedded on natural underpinnings with only a minimum of shaping to produce the required slope. Construction could therefore be carried out even more economically than at Alabanda. Moreover, the halls at Termessos and Alabanda could have been much more easily converted to serve as odeia, or music halls, than could the Bouleuterion at Miletos. There was ample room for the erection of a wooden stage in the large floor area at the front of the hall; and the arrangement of the seats would have allowed members of the audience to see and hear better than was possible in halls with seats arranged in a semicircle around a small orchestra. The engaged ornament on the inner face of the front wall of the Alabanda building was probably planned as backdrop for a stage.63 Provision for such multiple usage was perhaps an important factor in the development of the plan found at Termessos, and probably influenced the design of the auditorium in the Asklepieion complex at Messene, where, as in the theatre at Priene, the upper tiers of seats were reduced from a semicircle to an arc by the lateral enclosing walls of the auditorium. Careful consideration of the advantages and disadvantages of various types of seating plan would have been perfectly normal, if the council-houses at Termessos and Alabanda were built relatively late in the Hellenistic period; for in the years ca. 200–125 architects often took a more logical approach to overall problems of design and decoration than had their Classical and earlier Hellenistic predecessors.

Covered Halls and Storehouses The examples of council-halls collected by McDonald suggest that simple arrangements, such as those described earlier at Thermon and Assos, were the normal rule in Greek cities even in Hellenistic times. Greek civic architecture, as we have remarked elsewhere, aimed primarily at efficiency and economy of construction. Impressive ornament or imposing architectural facades were certainly not uncommon in Hellenistic work; but such features were usually embellishments of essentially functional designs. Greek architects never valued for its own sake the impressive effect of lofty and spacious interiors found in the great basilicas and bathbuildings of Imperial Rome. Moreover, elaborate schemes of exterior and interior ornament were usually confined to buildings that were gifts of some Hellenistic king or dynast. We have encountered several examples of such patronage in dealing with stoas, as at Athens, Miletos, and Priene; and the Bouleuterion at Miletos, a Seleukid gift made through two courtiers of Antiochos IV Epiphanes, was probably not an isolated instance. Whatever the date of the rebuilding of the ‘New Bouleuterion’ at Athens with an Ionic porch and semicircular stone seats, this building too may have been a gift of some monarch. In Asia Minor occasions for such gifts were particularly common, as Pergamene power expanded southward into the former Seleukid domains. After the battle of Magnesia in 190, the Romans

149

assigned to Eumenes II control of large areas of former Seleukid territory in western and southern Asia Minor. In subsequent decades the kings of Pergamon undoubtedly used architectural patronage to strengthen their hold on their newly acquired possessions, while Antiochos IV was clearly interested in trying to re-establish a Seleukid presence in the coastal regions of western Asia Minor. It was surely in this context that the new council-house complex was built at Miletos. A little later Attalos II, as we have seen, constructed a new stoa in the mountain city of Termessos in Pisidia; and the bouleuterion at that site, probably also dating from this period, was doubtless another Attalid donation designed to secure the allegiance of the Pisidian city. The council-house at Herakleia-under-Latmos, of the same general period, may have been another Seleukid gift, or else an Attalid donation intended to match Seleukid patronage at Miletos. Yet Antiochos IV can hardly have hoped to extend his influence over the mountains to Alinda and Alabanda in inland Karia. Thus, the midHellenistic buildings at Alinda are likely to be the result of Pergamene activity in this area; and the council-house at Alabanda may also have been Attalid work. At any rate, the Alabandan building seems to resemble in design and decoration the council-house at Termessos, the Pergamene style of which is recognized by Akurgal.

B. ARSENALS AND STOREHOUSES Utilitarian storage buildings were needed in Greek cities and sanctuaries even in Archaic times, but were normally small in scale and simple in design. If a more imposing facade was required for buildings that housed dedications, the required effect could be achieved by some form of stoa, such as the long stoa in the Samian Heraion, the early stoas in the Argive Heraion, and the Hall of Votive Gifts in the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace.64 Even in the Classical period, storage buildings still took the form of a stoa, for example, the Long Stoa at Peraieus.65 The Chalkotheke on the Athenian acropolis (a storehouse for bronze objects) was a simple (and not even completely rectangular)

building with a row of internal supports for the ridge-beam; a colonnade was subsequently added along the north facade, doubtless as being more in keeping with the monumental dignity of the Parthenon a short distance away.66 The Chalkotheke was presumably walled on all sides, not only for security but also to provide further protection from the weather. Such protection was obviously even more important for granaries, commercial warehouses, and military and naval arsenals. Thus, Vitruvius recommends a northern exposure for shipyards, northern or northeastern for granaries, lest the heat of a southern exposure encourage rot and the development of parasites that might destroy the wood-

150

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

work of the ships or the stored grain.67 Yet large buildings of this type were probably rarely necessary before the middle and later fifth century, when the Athenians developed a large importexport trade, had a large naval establishment, and had to provide storage for large amounts of imported food, especially during the Peloponnesian War. Among the earliest examples of storehouses to have left significant remains is a building beside but below the level of the agora at Orchomenos in Arkadia. This structure has been dated to the fifth century, on the basis of the style of roof terracottas supposedly associated with it;68 and McDonald and others have identified it as a bouleuterion, since it borders on the agora, and yielded two groups of proxeny decrees, engraved on bronze tablets, that were passed ‘by the Council and city.’69 Yet the building seems totally unsuitable for a council-house; it measured about 41 × 8.2 m, apparently had no open side and only one preserved door, and was divided lengthwise by a row of interior supports. Moreover, the uniform and specialized character of the bronze tablets suggests that they came, not from the city archives, but from some public building where such decrees honouring citizens of other cities were prominently displayed. In my opinion, the agora-level, or upper, storey of the East Building in the Orchomenos agora was a two-aisled stoa, in which the bronze tablets were affixed to the facade and internal columns; beneath this stoa was a two-aisled storage hall, with a row of columns or piers along the central axis, directly under the internal columns of the stoa above.70 By the mid-fourth century some storage buildings were quite large, and might be treated as important monuments from the aesthetic as well as the practical point of view. In Hellenistic times they served increasingly specialized functions; each type of storehouse presented special problems of design and construction, whether it was a military or naval arsenal, a granary, or a commercial warehouse. This variety of form and function is well illustrated by the description of the naval arsenal at Peiraieus, designed by the Athenian architect Philo of Eleusis (and preserved in the inscription IG II2.1668),71 and

by the recommendations for the construction of granaries given by the military engineer Philo of Byzantion at the end of the third century. A translation of part of the specifications for the Peiraieus arsenal is given below,72 followed by the observations of Philo of Byzantion on the design and construction of granaries. An arsenal for tackling shall be built at Zeia, beginning the propylon which leads from the agora as one approaches from behind the ... shipsheds ... 4 plethra in length, 55 feet in width, inclusive of the wall ... Excavate to a depth of 3 feet ... and lay the foundations upon the stereo ... Lay foundations for the pillars as well, at a distance from the wall of 15 feet, including the thickness of the pillars, the number of pillars in each row being 35, thus leaving a passage for the public through the middle of the arsenal 20 feet in width between the pillars ... Build the walls and the pillars of the arsenal of stone from Akte, laying a levelling-course for the walls ... Upon the levelling-course lay orthostates over the middle of it, 4 feet long, 2 1/2 feet plus one dactyl in width, and 3 feet high – but at the corners the length depends upon the dimensions of the triglyphs. Leave apertures for two doorways, 9 feet wide, at either end of the arsenal ... Build the walls of ashlars, 4 feet long, 2 1/2 feet wide – but at the corners the length depends upon the dimensions of the triglyphs – and 1 1/2 feet high. Let the height of the walls above the levelling-course be 27 feet, including the triglyph frieze beneath the cornice ... Let the height of the doorways be 15 1/2 feet,73 and place above them lintels of Pentelic marble 12 feet long, as thick as the walls, and in height equal to two courses of regular wall-blocks; and erect doorposts of Pentelic or Hymettan marble, laying under them thresholds of Hymettan marble. Above the lintels place a cornice projecting 1 1/2 feet. Make apertures for windows all around, in all the walls, one opposite each intercolumniation, and three at either end , the openings to be 3 feet high and 2 feet wide; and install in each aperture a close-fitting shutter of bronze. Upon the walls all

Covered Halls and Storehouses around lay cornices, build pediments and place raking cornices . Erect the pillars, placing each upon a stylobate level with the levelling-course , 1 1/2 feet thick, 3 1/4 feet wide, 4 feet long. The lower thickness of the pillars shall be 2 3/4 feet, and the height 30 feet including the capitals, and each pillar shall consist of seven drums 4 feet high, except the first, which shall be 5 feet. Lay capitals of Pentelic marble upon the pillars. Place wooden architraves upon the pillars, 2 1/2 feet wide, 2 1/4 feet high at the highest point, 18 beams in each row [i.e., one beam for every two intervals], and fasten them ; and lay crossbeams, as wide and as high as the architraves, across the passage. Above these [the cross-beams] lay ridge-beams 1 3/4 feet wide and 1 1/2 feet and 2 dactyls high ... and place props under them on the cross-beams 3 feet long and 1 1/2 feet thick, and fasten the ridgebeams to the cross-beams with wedges. And thereon [on the ridge-beams] place rafters 10 dactyls thick, 3/4-foot and 3 dactyls wide, and 1 1/4 feet apart, and above these battens 1/2foot wide and 2 dactyls thick, 4 dactyls apart; and thereon apply boards [of the roof-deck] 1 dactyl thick and 6 dactyls wide, fasten them in place with iron nails, coat them, and tile with Corinthian tiles. Install on the arsenal doors fitted to the door-openings and plated with bronze on the outside. And pave the whole of the interior with stone floor-slabs fitted to each other.

The remainder of the preserved text deals with interior arrangements and fittings. For the storage of grain, Philo of Byzantion74 first describes silos sunk below ground level as a means of protection against damp and rot. He then continues: There is another method of storage, i.e., above ground, the walls and floors of which have been daubed with olive-lees; these magazines should have the majority of the windows and the slits for ventilation facing the north, and covered with nets to prevent the birds from eating the foodstuffs and to keep

151

out animals. The grain will not rot if vinegar are placed inside , as described above.

Philo evidently envisages these above-ground granaries as being largely of wood. ‘However,’ he continues, if wood is in short supply, the granaries must be built as follows. When the foundations of the building to be constructed have been laid, describe a semicircle with the radius [literally, the height] equal to half the width , and on this line build at intervals of 3 cubits arches of ashlar abutting on the walls on each side of the building [i.e., a series of transverse arches either 3 cubits apart or 3 cubits centre to centre]. Let the width [the inward projection from the side walls] of the be (two cubits?); when two blocks have been laid on the foundations the arches should be laid up with a width of one cubit, and they should be made two cubits thick . Let the structure be of dressed stones or of the largest possible quarry-stones, in order that it may be able to support the weight above. When the arches have been completed, the vertical walls must be erected on the foundations, and the spaces between the side walls and the arches filled with bricks [or stone blocks?], so that the transverse members are squared off in section at the level of the crown [i.e., of the extrados] of the arches. Then the strongest possible boards must be laid across the intervals between the arches, and covered with reeds and plastered as well as possible. And if you wish to build a granary above these [the boards and plastered floor], construct a roof of rafters and boards, and tile the roof and daub it as well as possible. If you are not building in the above fashion [with transverse arches supporting a wooden floor? or a conventional wooden roof over the structure just described?], you should build the structure (basement? or roof?) as a continuous barrel-vault(?), and there will be no need for crosswise boards (? or beams?) . In order that your buildings may be well proportioned, with the height symmetrical with the size [the floor area], when you have laid the foundations on the desired scale, derive the height of the arches from the foundations, as we have described above. If you do not choose either monolithic lintels or lintels of wood, lest be burned, construct the entrance of the desired width, and fill with bricks . Then lay over , on both right and left, blocks cut obliquely , and close the top with a block that is broad above and narrow below, fitting it in its place like a wedge. Having done this, remove the brick filling from the opening; for will stand quite sound and secure . This method is also useful in the building of towers, if one wishes to build the posterns [? or entrances?] in this way, instead of arches. The above then is the manner in which granaries should be constructed.’75

The differences between the Peiraieus arsenal of IG II2. 1668 and the Hellenistic granaries are very instructive. Clearly, the Athenian Philo was still working within the traditional Classical framework: long narrow proportions, a large number of interior supports, relatively short free spans (about 8 1/2 feet between the piers, 20 feet across the nave), tiled roof over wooden framework that made no use of reinforcing trusses (figs. 333a–b).76 The interior supports were evidently simple rectangular piers; as Jeppesen points out, the proportions are rather slender, and the capitals too low, for these supports to be interpreted as Ionic columns, while Doric columns are even more implausible.77 The interior was thus very plain and utilitarian – not surprisingly, since the aisles and galleries were storage areas and the nave, in the absence of clerestory windows, probably rather dark. Jeppesen speaks of the ‘fascinating perspective view’ along the nave as perhaps ‘the basic architectural idea of Philo’s project, and, in actual fact, what people in antiquity found so impressive and awe-inspiring as to merit perpetual fame.’78 Yet it is unlikely

that much light from the windows in the lateral walls penetrated to the nave. The ends of the nave were well lighted by large double doors at each end, with a window above; but the central portion must have been rather gloomy, though doubtless with interesting highlights in the background. Like many other Classical and early Hellenistic structures, the arsenal was designed to be admired primarily from the outside; the reputation of the building in later times was probably largely due to the impressiveness of the exterior and to the elegantly written account published by the architect. Since the arsenal was destroyed by Sulla’s troops in the early first century BC, the references in Cicero and Vitruvius must have been based entirely on Philo’s book.79 The Doric frieze of the exterior was also traditional in character, and was derived from temple architecture. Indeed, Jeppesen has suggested that the ends of the building, with a Doric frieze and pediments framed by horizontal and raking cornices, derived from an octastyle temple facade, the overall proportions, however, being those of the Ionic rather than the Doric order.80 In his view, both Philo and some of his contemporaries in Asia Minor were interested in experiments combining Doric and Ionic forms. Yet Jeppesen’s only parallels from this period are in the partly Hellenized national sanctuary of the Karians at Labraynda. Genuine ‘mixed’ orders are found in purely Greek contexts only at a later date. In fact, the overall proportions of the short ends of the arsenal are closer to those of late-fifth- and earlier-fourth-century Doric than to any period of Ionic. Above the cornice crowning the lintel of the large double doors there was a small window. The Doric frieze was merely a low ornamental band along the top of the wall; IG II2.1668 gives no specific dimensions for frieze and cornice, using instead such phrases as: ‘at the corners the length [of the orthostates] . . . the length [of the wall-block] depends upon the dimension of the triglyphs,’ and ‘let the height of the walls above the levelling-course be 27 feet, including the triglyph frieze beneath the cornice.’ It is obvious, too, that Greek architects now approached the problems of design in a much more systematic manner than before. The deci-

Covered Halls and Storehouses sion to make the Peiraieus arsenal something of a showpiece of the new secular architecture of its age was almost certainly due to its location in a much-frequented area between the agora of Peiraieus and the naval dockyard at Zeia (‘beginning the propylon which leads from the agora as one approaches from behind the . . . shipsheds’). To this extent, the arsenal was typical of the early Hellenistic style of the second half of the fourth century. Yet it was both less functional and more pretentious than utilitarian structures of middle and late Hellenistic date such as the Hellenistic granaries described by Philo of Byzantion. Hellenistic engineers normally erected such structures as quickly and cheaply as was consistent with functional efficiency – in this case, the storing of grain for long periods with minimum risk of spoilage. Philo therefore starts with a description of silos sunk in the ground. If for any reason (e.g., a site that was low lying and damp, or very rocky) underground silos were impractical, he recommends wooden structures built above ground. For regions where wood was difficult to obtain, he next describes the construction of granaries with wooden floors, enclosed by stone walls and covered either by a conventional wooden roof with tiles or by a continuous barrelvault (or sometimes, perhaps, with a barrelvaulted basement supporting a stone floor). The floor of the storage chamber was normally a layer of plastered reeds laid over boards; the boards in turn were supported on a series of semicircular transverse arches spanning the ground floor. The general effect would have been not unlike some of the Hellenistic cisterns on Delos (fig. 364), where, however, the transverse arches supported the floor of a courtyard at ground level; moreover, the ‘basements’ of Philo’s granaries were narrower and less deep than the Delian cisterns. Larger floor area should be obtained by increasing the length of the building, not the width. Although Hellenistic engineers could easily have built longer-span arches, any significant increase in span also involved an increase in height; and a higher basement would have served no purpose, its main function being to raise the floor of the granary above the ground. Thus, careful attention is paid to the overall height of the granary in relation to the area of the floor; to

153

avoid floors of modest area suspended on excessively high arches, the designer should remember that the height of the transverse arches will be derived from the width of the basement. In fact, the proportions envisaged by Philo were probably much like those of the longer and narrower of the Hellenistic arsenals on the acropolis at Pergamon, described below (figs. 334– 6); that these proportions proved satisfactory is clear from their continued use, several centuries later, for the granaries of Roman forts and supply bases in Britain, for instance, at Housesteads and Corbridge (fig. 337).81 The account of the construction of granaries concludes with a description of doorways built in the form of a corbelled arch. The corbel, however, does not terminate in a pointed top; instead, the crown of the opening is closed by a wedge-shaped keystone. This type of doorway, a skilful combination of corbelling with a horizontal voussoir arch, avoided the need for long lintels, whether of heavy and intractable stone or of scarce and inflammable wood. During construction the door opening is to be filled with a form, or centring, of mudbrick, laid in the shape of the corbel with crowning keystone. The corbelled blocks are then laid up on either side of the sloping crown of the form, and the keystone fitted in place; ‘having done this, remove the brick filling . . ., for will stand quite sound and secure .’ Such openings probably developed in military architecture, as a substitute for radiating arches in the walls of towers; for Philo remarks that ‘this method is also useful in the building of towers, if one wishes to build the posterns (? or entrances?) in this way, instead of arches.’ The arsenals at the northern end of the acropolis hill at Pergamon are interesting examples of Hellenistic storehouses (in this case for artilleryballs and other military supplies) in a region where timber was easily obtainable (figs. 334– 6).82 The complex includes five buildings; the two earliest were probably built in the second quarter of the third century, the other three somewhat later, but probably before the death of Attalos I in 197. All have a stone-walled basement such as Philo recommends for granaries; the floor, however, was of wood, as were the walls of the

154

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

storage chamber. The wooden floors were supported on a series of internal walls; the basement area beneath the floor was ventilated and kept dry by numerous slit-windows in the outer walls. Arsenal I measured ca. 12.8 × 36.5 m; Arsenals II to V were generally longer and narrower (width ca. 6.4–8.2 m, length ca. 31–47.5 m), without the complex web of interior walls employed in Arsenal I. Dinsmoor finds the construction of the basements curious, yet it is difficult to see how else wooden floors could have carried the burden of the heavy materials stored on the main floor. Given the need for circulation of air beneath the floor, the construction of the Pergamene arsenals seems to be an excellent mixture of ingenuity and economy – something that cannot often be said of Classical buildings. The only improvement that comes to mind is the use of the transverse arches described by Philo. Dinsmoor also remarks that the design ‘externally had a superficial resemblance to the arsenal at Peiraieus.’ The Athenian arsenal, however, was clearly designed with the effect of the exterior in mind, since it stood in a much frequented public area; there is no reason to believe that the arsenal area at Pergamon was ever accessible to the general public. Hellenistic storehouses, when located near an agora, were in fact often constructed in a more monumental and richly decorated style. Good illustrations are found at Thasos and Miletos, and also at Athens. Of the Athenian building virtually nothing survives but a few foundation blocks, and cuttings in the rock, on the north slopes of Kolonos Agoraios.83 The building, while smaller than the Peiraieus arsenal, was still of considerable size, measuring ca. 16.75 × 44 m. The entrance was in the short west wall, which bordered a street. The three-aisled interior had two rows of free-standing supports and a series of piers built against each side wall, doubtless to support the ends of the main crossbeams. Located as it was near the Hephaisteion and the agora, the building may have had some sort of exterior ornament; but of this nothing can be recognized. Water was provided inside the building, which may have been used for storing either military equipment or the olive oil dispensed as prizes during the Panathenaic Festival, or per-

haps for both these purposes, whether concurrently or at different periods. This interesting structure was destroyed by Sulla’s troops in the early first century. By the first century AD, the agora of Thasos had been almost completely enclosed by a series of stoas (fig. 338).84 One of the latest of these, the Southeast Stoa, was a large building of the first century AD, measuring 92 × 17.12 m. Facing the agora was a single-aisled colonnade of thirty-one Doric columns, screening a long two-aisled hall, over nine metres wide, that was evidently a warehouse. Four doors led from the stoa into the hall; between the doors were ten windows, probably in groups of three, four, and three. The interior supports were rectangular piers rather than columns. Between the hall, or warehouse, and the main east–west street of the city was a small piazza; in later times a series of rooms, presumably shops, was built against the back (southeast) wall of the warehouse. Two doors in this wall allowed goods to be brought directly into the warehouse from the main street; casual passersby could reach the agora from the piazza or street by corridors at the ends of the Southeast Stoa. It is interesting to compare the Thasian warehouse and stoa with the great market buildings at Aigai and Alinda (figs. 116–19) and with the East Building of the agora at Arkadian Orchomenos.85 In all four cases a single complex provided both storage space and a colonnaded border along one side of the agora. At the artificially terraced sites in Asia Minor, however, the various elements were built one above the other, with shops and storage space underneath the floor of a two-aisled stoa that opened toward the agora; these utilitarian chambers were thus accessible only from the street outside of and below the marketplace. The later-fourth-century East Building at Orchomenos was a smaller version of the scheme, with only a single storey below agora level. At Thasos, by contrast, the agora was located on virtually level ground beside the harbour; the new warehouse was therefore built behind the colonnade bordering the agora. A similar situation existed at Miletos, where, in addition, city streets ran just outside the South Agora on all four sides. Thus, the large ware-

Covered Halls and Storehouses house just west of the South Agora, probably constructed during the second century, could not be backed against any of the agora stoas without blocking one or more of these streets (figs. 167, 339). Moreover, a main east–west artery entered the agora at the middle of the west side; the council-house complex was probably already standing behind the North Stoa; and both the East and South Stoas had shops opening off the streets outside the agora. The new warehouse was therefore built in the eastern half of the six city blocks immediately west of the agora and north of the street leading to the middle of its west side. This large new building, measuring 163.4 × 13.4 m,86 blocked five of the streets leading westward from the area of the South Agora and the council-house. These streets must consequently have ceased to carry much traffic; and the north–south street to the west of the square was too narrow, and too specialized in use, to make an elaborate treatment of the long east wall of the warehouse worthwhile. The south end of the new building, however, faced the main street connecting the South Agora with Theatre Bay, the stadium, the West Agora, and the area of the temple of Athena. The south wall was therefore given an elaborate columnar treatment (fig. 339), whereas the purely functional interior was simply divided into two narrow aisles by a series of pillars supporting the ridge-beam. Because of their long, narrow proportions none of the granaries and storehouses described above needed a trussed roof; and windows, apart from small openings for ventilation, would have been more of a nuisance than an advantage (see the warning of Philo of Byzantion against the entrance of birds and small animals). Architectural ornament would also have been inappropriate for the exterior of purely utilitarian structures. Nevertheless, Philo’s recommendations clearly reflect an architectural and engineering tradition far beyond that of the time of Philo of Eleusis, who designed the Peiraieus arsenal less than 150 years earlier. Corbel arches were of course known and used in the Aegean from the later Bronze Age onward; but the combination of corbelling with a wedge-shaped keystone seems not to occur before the Hellenistic age. The radiating, or voussoir, arches and

155

vaults described by Philo probably did not appear in Greece and the Aegean before the third quarter of the fourth century; it seems likely that the extensive early Hellenistic exploitation of this architectural form, not only in gateways but also in substructures such as those of the propylaia of the sanctuary on Samothrace (the Ptolemaion), was due to the innovative work of Macedonian architects and engineers during the reign of Philip II.87 By Philo’s day, military engineers had come to appreciate the value of radiating voussoirs in withstanding lateral pressures, as well as supporting massive burdens pressing down from above. Thus, Philo recommends that the walls of circular towers be constructed of a series of ‘voussoirs’;88 the impact of artillery balls would then simply press the blocks more firmly against each other, rather than threatening to dislodge them. There is no evidence that Classical architects had either the knowledge or the inclination to devise such solutions for structural and engineering problems; in Hellenistic times the evidence from both literary and archaeological sources is abundant. Yet here again Italo-Hellenistic architects, especially in middle and late Republican Rome, surpassed the achievements of their cousins east of the Adriatic.89 There still survive in Rome substantial remains of a Republican warehouse built of concrete faced with opus incertum, and long identified with the Porticus Aemilia of the earlier second century.90 This identification raises difficulties, since the Porticus Aemilia probably lay further upstream along the Tiber; but there can be little doubt that the structure in question was erected no later than ca. 125, and may even be earlier; it is therefore comparable both with the Peiraieus arsenal and with Philo’s granaries. The Roman building was a multi-aisled structure, with the aisles divided one from another by a series of arcades; the long sides consisted of groundfloor arcades with arched windows above. The entire structure was roofed with concrete vaults; probably the roof-line stepped up from the riverside facade toward the eastern long wall, so that each of the internal longitudinal divisions was lighted by a series of westward-facing clerestory windows. Obviously, a design of this type could have been easily adapted to serve as an arsenal,

156

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

and would have been both well lighted and well ventilated. The concrete floor and walls would also have facilitated precautions against the effects of damp, whether on stored foodstuffs or on military and naval equipment and supplies. The fact that no such structures are known in the Hellenistic East again underlines the superior technical and engineering achievement of Roman architects, who were thus able to use the ItaloHellenistic architectural heritage simply as a basis for still greater accomplishments in Imperial times. Even in its present ruined state the Republican building at Rome goes as far beyond the Peiraieus and Pergamene arsenals as the terraces of the Fortuna sanctuary at Praeneste go beyond those of the Asklepieion at Kos.91 In general, it is clear that Greek architects adopted a severely practical approach to the design of storage buildings. Unless the interior of the building was open to the general public, as was the case with the Peiraieus arsenal, the architectural forms were simple and functional, with no attempt at decorative effects; and even the interior of the Peiraieus arsenal, with its plain piers and wooden architraves and crossbeams, was a far cry from the great secular stoas of late Classical and Hellenistic times. Nor did Greek designers, even in late Hellenistic times, go out of their way to create spacious and imposing interiors by using long-span wooden trusses to support the roof. Their intention was obviously to provide the required amount of storage space as simply and economically as possible. Thus, all the buildings that we have considered were long and narrow, with interior supports only where required for structural reasons. With regard to the exterior, much depended on the location of the building. A structure

standing free on all sides in a much-frequented area, such as the arsenal of Philo at Peiraieus, might have a Doric frieze and cornice along the top of the wall; the ends of the Peiraieus arsenal were further adorned with pediments framed by horizontal and raking cornices. There may have been a similar ornamental treatment on the exterior of the warehouse on the Kolonos Agoraios at Athens. The Milesian warehouse was perhaps devoid of ornament except at the short south end, which faced a major thoroughfare; of course, the frieze may have continued along the whole length of the eastern wall and across the top of the north end, since both these sides were also street facades. The end and back walls of the Thasian warehouse, by contrast, were evidently completely plain. In short, such buildings are illustrations of the practical character of Hellenistic architecture rather than examples of monumental design. Of course, much the same may be said of Roman market buildings and warehouses. Yet Roman skill in the use of concrete vaulting resulted in complexes that were sometimes very impressive engineering achievements, for example, the late Republican market building on the great bastion at Ferentinum and the tunnel, flanked by shops and lit by skylights, that carried the Via Tiburtina under the platform of the temple of Hercules at Tivoli.92 There is no evidence that Hellenistic architects in the eastern Mediterranean ever considered designing purely utilitarian structures along such impressive lines. Even had they wished to do so, they would have been frustrated by lack of that technical expertise that Roman architects of the late Republic took for granted as part of the basic training of any good architect and engineer.

8 Residential Architecture

In the mid- to late twenties of the last century, students of Greek antiquity had at their disposal a good deal of literary evidence on the subject of domestic architecture in Classical, and even Archaic, Greece; but there were few known physical remains to assist in the interpretation of the ancient texts. Fortunately, new excavations, especially those at Olynthos (in the late twenties and thirties), in the Athenian agora, and elsewhere, have added greatly to our understanding of the Classical Greek house.1 We can now say that during the Archaic period there were probably a number of residences sufficiently large and splendid to be called palaces, such as the Archaic palace on the hilltop at Buruncuk-Larisa in Aiolis. No doubt many Archaic and earlier-fifthcentury tyrants, such as the Kypselids of Corinth, Kleisthenes of Sikyon, Polykrates of Samos, and their Sicilian counterparts, lived in residences of comparable scale. For a variety of reasons, however, large and luxurious houses, at least in the city, were evidently frowned upon in the earlier generations of the new Athenian democracy. Demosthenes, doubtless with some rhetorical exaggeration, states as a matter of common knowledge that the houses of Aristides, Miltiades, and other leading men of the early fifth century were virtually indistinguishable from those of their fellow citizens, and contrasts this situation with the very different circumstances of his own day.2 Changes between the early fifth century and the time of Demosthenes were no doubt gradual; yet it is clear that by the fourth century there

was a very wide range of housing standards and house prices. The sale price of houses at Olynthos, as recorded in inscriptions, ranges from as little as 900–1200 drs to as high as 4500– 5300 drs – the last named figure, moreover, paid for House A.VI.D, one of ten standard lots, 60 ft square, in a standard block on the North Hill. A similar spread in the value of houses obviously existed in contemporary Athens. Included in the estate of Demosthenes’ father was a house of substantial value, a number of slaves, and some thirty minai of silver, and the orator Lysias speaks of other houses valued as high as 5000 drs; but we also read of houses worth as little as 500 drs.3 Presumably most of the lower-priced houses were poor dwellings, with at most only two or three rooms; on the other hand, some of the higher prices, as in our own times, were probably in part due as much to the location of the house as to its size.4 Nevertheless, the houses in Greek cities of the Classical period must have ranged from mere hovels to fairly large and substantial homes.5 Yet there seems to be no evidence, at least in the cities, for the great mansions that we encounter increasingly often in Hellenistic and Roman times – vast complexes of rooms and courtyards, spreading over an area perhaps ten to fifteen times as large as the standard Olynthian house lot. As far as we can tell from excavated examples, even the largest of the Olynthian ‘villas’ (assuming that these were in fact private houses) was probably not more than twice the

158

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

area of the standard house lot on the North Hill. To find more palatial houses before the Late Classical period, we must go to the fringes of the Greek world or beyond, that is, to such monuments as the later palace at Buruncuk (ca. 2500 m2, with seventeen rooms ranged around a central court), the palace at Vouni in Cyprus, where oriental influences were obviously very strong,6 or the palace of Mausollos at Halikarnassos, the size and decoration of which Vitruvius could still describe in admiring terms as late as the time of Augustus.7 Moreover, in the account of Mausollos’s palace we encounter the first hint of the elegant finish that was to become such a common feature of later Hellenistic and late Republican residential architecture; for Vitruvius states that the residence of the Karian dynast was ‘adorned throughout with Prokonnesian marble,’ and that the brick walls were ‘finished with such a highly polished stucco that they seemed to have the translucency of glass.’8 With Mausollos, then, if not as yet with the contemporary rulers of Macedonia, we encounter in residential architecture the beginning of a return of the ‘oriental’ magnificence that is such a striking feature of the Hellenistic age.9 Any attempt to determine how far down the social and economic scale this new taste for luxury penetrated lies outside the scope of the present chapter, which is concerned primarily with the houses of the wealthy, of the nobility, and of kings (including urban palazzi and country villas, where the evidence for such residences can be found), and of reasonably well-to-do merchants. Also to be considered is the emergence of multi-family residences, which must have become increasingly common in the large, densely populated cities of the Hellenistic world. In the study of merchant-class and multi-family accommodation in the crowded residential quarters of Delos, the recent momograph by Monika Trumper is of great value, as references in later ¨ pages of this chapter will illustrate.10 More modest Hellenistic houses are generally of secondary interest for the present work, except where they serve to illustrate aspects of the design, construction, or decoration of larger complexes that are no longer preserved. It was in the specific types of residential architecture mentioned

above that Hellenistic designers were most often called upon to break new ground; the houses of ordinary citizens were at best likely to be simply a continuation of Classical traditions.11 Such modifications as took place owing to the phenomenon of ‘rising expectations’ were usually confined to upper-middle-class houses.12 If the later history of residential architecture in Rome is any guide, as the rich became richer, larger and larger numbers of people sank ever deeper into poverty, and found themselves paying more and more for less and less in the way of accommodation.13 In short, the most imposing examples of Hellenistic residential architecture must have been created for a relatively small number of clients – royalty, wealthy courtiers, and well-to-do merchants. Persons of somewhat less ample means might aspire to smaller-scale versions of the homes of the wealthy; many of the houses in the crowded mercantile community of late Hellenistic Delos fall within this category. In the great cities, however, the vast majority of the inhabitants were lucky to own a house of any sort, while smaller communities generally had neither the means nor the wish to reproduce urban palazzi in small-town contexts. It is true that country estates of wealthy city dwellers were evidently an increasingly common feature of Hellenistic society. However, in the eastern Mediterranean as in Italic contexts, such establishments often had a dual nature, combining luxurious city residences with a farmhouse and associated buildings. In any case, these villas have rarely left very extensive remains; for the same factors that attracted the Hellenistic landowner to a particular site generally had an equally strong appeal for many later builders, from Roman to modern times, with the result that most of the Hellenistic structures have been swept away. Despite the inevitable blanks in our knowledge, and the distortions that these blanks create, there is a fair amount of evidence for the development of large-scale residential architecture between the time of Philip II of Macedon and that of Augustus – insufficient for compiling a detailed history of the subject, but certainly enough to clarify both the main trends and their causes. This evidence is in part archaeological (actual

Residential Architecture palaces, houses, and villas as well as painted representations of such structures), in part literary (the treatise of Vitruvius and the descriptive passages preserved by writers such as Athenaeus). Some of the most significant developments were specifically Ptolemaic or Italic, and probably had few, if any, real parallels in the Aegean world. This chapter attempts to identify these regional contributions, while at the same time tracing the most important changes and innovations in the Hellenistic world as a whole. At the end of the first century BC Vitruvius speaks of urban houses of wealthy Romans that were clearly of considerable size,14 with atria as much as 100 ft long and 60 ft wide; the tablinum and alae and flanking rooms with fauces (entrance corridor) might add up to 40 ft in breadth and 45 ft in depth (measured from the street facade),15 so that the overall size of the atrium complex might be as much as 100 × 145 ft, with a total area of some 1250–1300 m2, that is, about half as large again as the ‘House of Livia’ on the Palatine at Rome. Yet this is probably less than half the area of a complete urban palazzo; for behind the atrium complex Vitruvius envisages one or more peristyles (‘lofty atria and most spacious peristyles, and plantations and broad walks of majestic finish’),16 as well as ‘libraries and basilicas,’17 summer and winter triclinia (dining rooms), ‘exedras,’ and other rooms. Some 4000–5000 m2. would probably have been the minimum needed for all these elements.18 Country villas, of course, spread over an even larger area. Thus, we read in Cicero of country residences with ‘artificial streams that some of our friends call Niles or Euripi.’19 Varro’s villa at Casinum included a canal with bridges, fishponds, and colonnades covered with a hemp net and filled with all kinds of birds; another aviary was round and domed, with columns and again a net preventing the birds from escaping into a surrounding wood planted with large trees.20 In such villas, Vitruvius says, ‘the peristyles are normally immediately , then afterward the atria with paved colonnades opening upon palaestrae and walks.’21 As an indication of the accuracy of this literary evidence, it should be noted that the peristyle of

159

the Villa dei Misteri at Pompeii (fig. 340) does in fact precede the atrium; perhaps, too, this villa, like the Villa di Diomede, looked out at the back to sunken gardens with surrounding walks. The Villa di Diomede covered a total area of more than 4000 m2; the Villa dei Misteri would probably have spread over ca. 5000–5500 m2 if it included a sunken garden of approximately the same area as the actual house. Even in urban contexts, already by the end of the second century the main building and large garden court of the Casa del Fauno at Pompeii covered an area of some 4200 m2, spreading over an entire city block; and the total area of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Cyrenaica was over 3425 m2 (figs. 341–2).22 The house plus the small and large peristyles of the suburban Villa dei Papiri outside Herculaneum probably covered about 7500–8000 m2 (fig. 296); if all of the gardens, pools, and terraces are included, the overall area of the complex was about 12,000– 14,000 m2. The Villa dei Papiri is also interesting as an actual example of a country villa in which the owner maintained a large library.23 None of these structures seems to be later in origin than the end of the first century BC; thus, they may reasonably be taken as illustrations of a late Hellenistic tradition, whether that of Campania or of some region east of the Adriatic, or as an Italo-Hellenistic mixture of both traditions. In dealing with the Italic examples, however, we must not forget the scale and luxury of the residences of Etruscan noble families of the later sixth and early fifth centuries. The architecture of these residences is faithfully reproduced (even if on a reduced scale) in Etruscan rock-cut tombs; and Etruscan tomb paintings suggest that such houses may have been further embellished with extensive gardens.24 Atrium-houses and gardens of middle and late Republican date in Campania perhaps represent an extension of the EtruscoItalic tradition into that region during Etruria’s heyday. No doubt the Tarquins also brought the traditions of Etruscan residential architecture to Rome; but there is no indication that either large scale or luxury survived in the spartan atmosphere of the early Republic. The increasing scale of later Republican atrium-houses and gardens in Rome and Latium must rather be due to the

160

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

reintroduction of the old Etrusco-Italic tradition from South Italy, as a result of Roman conquests of the third century; and this mixed EtruscanSouth Italian tradition became so firmly established in Rome that even after Roman expansion east of the Adriatic, ‘East Mediterranean’ elements frequently continued to reach Rome transformed by ‘Campanian Hellenistic’ influences. On the other hand, it is generally recognized that the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya (figs. 341–2), despite its probable origin late in the first century BC, is based on a tradition of residential architecture originating in Ptolemaic Alexandria rather than in late Republican Italy.25 Moreover, the history of domestic architecture in the cities of Campania seems to indicate that the appearance in that region of peristyles enclosing the gardens, and themselves giving access to rooms of varying size and function, was due to Hellenistic influence from the eastern Mediterranean – certainly from Alexandria, and perhaps also from Antioch in Syria. Thus, while we should not look for the Italic atrium complex in Hellenistic houses of the eastern Mediterranean,26 we may reasonably expect to find counterparts of the Campanian peristyles of the second to first centuries BC. It is true that detailed knowledge is confined to a few large Hellenistic houses east of the Adriatic, although the number of these is gradually increasing with the progress of excavation and publication. Moreover, these houses are generally in a poor state of preservation by comparison with the ruins of the cities buried by Vesuvius in AD 79. Yet even the relatively few known examples cover a fairly wide geographic area, as, for instance, the houses of Pella in Macedonia (figs. 343, 352–3), the ‘palaces’ on the Acropolis and the peristyle houses west and northwest of the Lower Agora at Pergamon (figs. 358a–b, 359a–b), some scanty remains at Miletos, and the complex on the Kastro Hill at Samos (figs. 344, 356). On a somewhat smaller scale are the structures recently uncovered by the Swiss at Eretria (fig. 345) and the largest of the Hellenistic houses on Delos (figs. 346, 347a–b, 362– 3). The palace complex at Vergina in Macedonia is much larger than any of the Greek residences listed above, covering ca. 9450 m2 (figs.

348–9, 355). It was until fairly recently the only known Hellenistic building on the Greek mainland to which the English term ‘palace’ could properly be applied, but is now itself eclipsed by the vastly larger complex uncovered at Pella (fig. 350a–b), probably commenced at least a generation earlier than the Vergina palace.27 In addition to these extant remains, we can glean a good deal of information from the literary sources. In his sixth book Vitruvius, after dealing with the architecture of urban and country residences and the planning of farmhouses, devotes a whole chapter to what he calls the ‘Greek house.’28 He notes that Greek houses do not have atria; instead, the entranceway (thyroron) leads directly to the peristyle. His account is sometimes a little hard to follow, and there has been much discussion of his sources; but he clearly envisages the homes of the well-to-do as having at least two peristyles.29 One of these may be colonnaded only on three sides, and includes the pastas or prostas along with the quarters of the women and household slaves (gynaeconitis); ‘connected with these there is an ampler block of residences’ (domus) with more sumptuous peristyles, which have four colonnades of equal height, or else the one which faces south has higher columns [than the others]. The peristyle that has one such higher colonnade is called a Rhodian peristyle. Off the colonnades that face northward, are Cyzicene dining rooms and picture galleries; off those facing toward the east libraries; off those facing westward exedras; and facing south are spacious rooms with appropriately large entrances; the rooms are large enough that four sets of dining couches can easily be arranged in them, with ample room for serving and for the amusements.’30 The reference to ‘Cyzicene dining rooms’ is explained earlier in connection with the peristyles of Italic houses, in which three types of oeci are employed: Corinthian, tetrastyle, and ‘those termed Egyptian.’ ‘There are also, though not usually in Italy, the oeci which the Greeks call Cyzicene. These are given a northern exposure and generally command a view of gardens, and have valvae [folding doors?] in the middle . Moreover, these halls are long and wide enough that two sets of dining

Residential Architecture couches can be placed inside them, facing each other, with room to pass around them. On the right and left [of the doors?] they have lumina fenestrarum valvata [‘folding window lights’?], so that views of the garden may be enjoyed by persons looking out from inside the hall through the windows.’31 The ‘ampler block of residences with more sumptuous peristyles’ mentioned by Vitruvius formed the andronitis, or men’s quarters. ‘Furthermore,’ Vitruvius adds, ‘small suites are built on the right and left, with their own front doors and suitable dining rooms and chambers’ for the use of guests. ‘For when the Greeks became more luxurious and their circumstances more affluent, they began to provide banquet rooms, bedrooms, and storerooms for arriving guests, and on the first day would invite them to dinner, sending them on the next chickens, eggs, vegetables, fruits, and other country produce.’32 Even if most of Vitruvius’s account was taken at second hand from Greek writers, the reference to the Greeks, who ‘had become more luxurious and their circumstances more affluent,’ still has a special interest in the present context. Few examples of large private houses with two colonnaded courts are known in the cities of the Aegean world. As we have seen in the chapter on gymnasia and palaistrai, Greek residential, or quasi-residential, buildings, with simple wooden colonnades on one or more sides of a central court, are at least as old as mid-Archaic times; but complete and regular peristyles, even in wood, must have been quite unusual before the fifth century. In Greece, the islands, and Asia Minor the first definite examples of peristyles in stone all occur in public rather than domestic contexts. The earliest important structure of this type was probably the Lesche of the Knidians at Delphi.33 The West Building in the Argive Heraion has been thought to date from the sixth century, but it has also been assigned to the late fifth, and may have had wooden columns;34 nevertheless, buildings such as this, normally associated with sanctuaries, may still have been ancestors both of the first wooden peristyles of Classical houses, and of their fourth-century and Hellenistic successors in stone, whether in private houses or in buildings of the prytaneion type.35

161

Such an origin for domestic peristyles is all the more likely if some prototypes, such as the Argive Heraion building, were in fact ‘public banquet halls.’ Peristyle agoras of the ‘Ionian’ type36 also appear in the fourth century, for instance, at Priene; a court completely enclosed by colonnades was built during the fourth century on the east side of the agora at Athens, and a peristyle court in stone is found in the later fourth century in the ‘gymnasium’ at Epidauros (fig. 282), and probably also in the suburban gymnasia at Athens.37 However, it is difficult to state with certainty the exact relationship between the various forms of peristyle court. On the whole, it seems likely that domestic peristyles, surrounded by rooms of varying size and function, were inspired in part by buildings in sanctuaries, such as the West Building of the Argive Heraion. Completely colonnaded agoras, by contrast, were a natural development of the isolated stoas that had long been known in sanctuaries; such stoas are increasingly common in secular contexts from the second quarter of the fifth century onward. The peristyles of palaistrai, and the Harbour Stoa complex at Miletos, are probably best regarded as ‘miniature agoras,’ even if suggested in part by structures of the type found in the West Building of the Argive Heraion. Before the fourth century we have no real evidence for the architectural form of the meeting places of phratries and similar associations, which probably provided the models for later ‘clubhouses’ associated with the worship of a hero. If the Swiss were correct in their initial interpretation of ‘Palace I’ (fig. 345 – better perhaps ‘Houses 1–2’) inside the West Gate at Eretria in Euboia, by the first half of the fourth century such phratry, or clan, houses already resembled substantial city houses with complete peristyles; the nearby ‘Palace II’ at Eretria is an obvious residential example. Hellenistic versions, such as the Heroon of the Ruler Cult at Pergamon, the Heroon at Kalydon (fig. 129), and the clubhouse of the Poseidoniasts of Berytos on Delos, simply continued the late Classical tradition; the relationship between ‘clubhouse’ and private residence seems particularly clear in the case of the hieros oikos at Priene, which was perhaps a

162

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

clubhouse that centred around the worship of Alexander as a hero.38 On the whole, it is clear that the palace architecture of Alexandria and other major Ptolemaic cities was marked by a scale and magnificence that had no real counterparts elsewhere in the Hellenistic world. Nevertheless, actual remains in the Aegean and in Asia Minor add considerably to our overall picture of the palace and villa architecture of the Hellenistic age. Among the most striking elements illustrated by these remains is the ability of Hellenistic architects to exploit the possibilities of irregular or steeply sloping ground, or of dramatic views. The relatively flat terrain of Alexandria, and indeed of most other Egyptian cities, offered little or no scope for this type of architectural planning; and much the same may be said of the lower city of Pella. Yet in the Aegean and Asia Minor irregular terrain and picturesque views were commonplace, and were used to advantage not only in the final approach from the lower city to the palace at Pella and in buildings such as the Vergina palace and the Samos villa, but also on a smaller scale in substantial private houses, as in the House of the Hermes on Delos (figs. 346, 347a–b).39 Indeed, various parts of the palace at Pella (fig. 350a–b), starting as early as the second half of the fourth century, clearly exploited the vistas afforded by the sloping terrain. The origin of large houses and palaces with more than one peristyle, such as Vitruvius describes in his account of the Greek house, is obscure. It may be that the model was a building such as the Katagogeion attached to the sanctuary at Epidauros (fig. 351), if that structure, with its four symmetrical courtyards, is correctly dated to the fourth century. The double peristyle of the palace or villa on the Kastro Hill at Samos (fig. 344) is a large-scale Hellenistic example still partly extant;40 it seems likely that the provision of two peristyles in the Samos palace was simply a late Hellenistic version of a well-established feature in upper-class residential architecture. At Vergina (figs. 348–9) there was originally only a single large courtyard; the small court and the southwestern ‘annex’ seem to be a later addition. The ‘palaces’ on the acropolis at Pergamon also had one courtyard each (fig. 358a–b); however,

after the building of the more southerly structure (on the eastern side of the roadway, opposite the Athena precinct and library), it and its neighbour to the north in a sense became a single residential complex with two separate courts.41 Of course here, as at Vergina, we are dealing with growth by accretion, rather than with a single homogeneous plan in which two courts were envisaged from the beginning. The same may be said of the enormous complex discovered in the Greek excavations on the palace hill at Pella (fig. 350a–b); the series of courtyards and rooms represents the modifications and additions of some 125–150 years, and now provides our best extant example of a really large-scale Hellenistic palace plan, despite the poor preservation of many of the elements.42 At Alexandria, too, successive rulers clearly added to the agglomeration of elements that formed the royal palace. However, the courtyards of the original palace at Pella,43 and those of the House of Dionysos in the lower city (figs. 350, 353), take the twoperistyle residence back at least to the latter half of the fourth century. ‘Palace I’ at Eretria (fig. 345), if the complex was in fact a single residence rather than two separate ones, may be an even earlier example of a double courtyard. It is unclear whether the structures in the north end of the block to the south of Block 3 at Pella represent two separate houses, or a single house with two peristyles. The House of the Abduction of Helen, in Block 5 at Pella (fig. 352), seems to have had only one peristyle court (Doric); but that court was unusually large, measuring over 22 m per side, with an area of more than 500 m2. Even the two courts of the House of Dionysos measured some 18.45 m and 19.3 m per side respectively, with areas of ca. 340 m2 and 370 m2. Both the House of the Abduction of Helen and the House of Dionysos were extensively adorned with the mosaic floors that have made Pella famous; and the architectural members were painted in bright colours. The Greek excavators believe that both houses had an upper floor on the north side of the courtyard (the Ionic north courtyard in the case of the House of Dionysos); the upper-floor colonnades are restored as Ionic. The House of the Abduction of

Residential Architecture Helen followed the usual practice of placing the main rooms, including the largest, on the ground floor of the north side of the court; in the House of Dionysos, however, these rooms opened off the west colonnades of the two courts.44 The House of Dionysos seems also to have had a bath suite.45 It is possible that there were gardens of some sort in the peristyles of the Pella houses; unfortunately gardens do not leave traces as substantial as those of architecture, and our views of ancient Greek gardens are necessarily based in large part on statements by ancient authors and on the interpretation of surviving paintings.46 In addition, while the fine pebble-mosaic floors of Pella simply continue the style found earlier at Olynthos, the elegant Ionic peristyle of the House of Dionysos (fig. 353) far surpasses anything found at that site, or even later at Priene. The use of Ionic was doubtless due to the popularity of this order among Macedonian architects; the Pella peristyle is matched in execution, though not in size, by some of the later Hellenistic Doric courts on Delos. Some of the excavated rooms at Pella can be identified by their position or contents as living rooms, kitchens, or storerooms. It is to be hoped that further study and excavation at Pella will lead to further identifications, as well as clarifying the question of the frequency, in other large houses of Pella, of an upper storey such as is found in the Houses of Dionysos and of the Abduction of Helen, and also in at least part of the palace at Vergina. The palace excavated by the Germans at Demetrias (fig. 354), across the gulf from Volo, was built in the time of Philip V.47 Unlike the great palace at Pella, which was aligned in accordance with the Hippodamian street plan,48 the Demetrias palace is only partly adapted to the layout of the city streets. The best preserved of the courts was 27 m square, with 10 columns per side. This part of the palace had tower-like structures at the four corners; in the middle of the west side was an ‘exedra’ of the type found on the south side of the court at Vergina, while along the east side were two rows of private living quarters, or perhaps guest rooms. At least one of the colonnades enclosing the court was two-storeyed, the others only a single storey in

163

height. The upper walls, as at Vergina, were of sundried bricks. The four corner towers of this courtyard complex, along with other features of the palace, have the appearance of a fortified residence, presumably built for the king, but probably also occupied, especially when the king was not in residence, by a Macedonian military governor of Demetrias, which was one of Macedonia’s three ‘fetters of Greece.’ The palace was close to a stronghold inside the south wall (above the enlarged artillery tower no. I), and was reached from the slightly lower area of the agora by means of a ramp. The area of the House of Dionysos at Pella was ca. 3400 m2, that of the two ‘palaces’ at Pergamon combined close to 4000 m2. The excavated portion of the Samos villa, or palace, covers about 2300 m2, and the area of the entire complex may have been as much as 5000–6500 m2.49 As already noted, the palace at Vergina occupied an area of some 9450 m2, or 10,800 m2 after the ‘annex’ to the west had been added, while the Pella palace eventually spread over more than 60,000 m2. In short, even the smallest of these residences must have been almost as large as an entire block on the North Hill at Olynthos, while the Vergina palace, in its final form, would have spread over most of three blocks. Residences such as these certainly seem to support Vitruvius’s remark about luxurious Greeks living in affluent circumstances; and the palace at Pella bids fair to revolutionize our understanding of the origins of later Greek palace architecture. The Vergina palace may have been built as early as the later fourth century (figs. 348–9, 355)50 and was abandoned by the second third of the second century – doubtless after the Roman victory at Pydna in 168 heralded the final downfall of the Macedonian monarchy. Whether or not Vergina is identified, as now seems reasonable, with the old Macedonian capital of Aigeiai, there can be little doubt that the building under discussion was a royal palace; perhaps the site was favoured not only because of its association with the old capital, but also as a welcome summer retreat from the greater heat and humidity of Pella. Visitors to the site are probably most impressed, first, by the overall sense of size conveyed by the approach, which leads one along

164

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the whole of the northern (downhill) and half of the eastern side of the palace, and, second, by the sweeping vista from the northern side of the great courtyard, over the plain and river, toward the sea in the distance. The first of these impressions was probably even stronger in antiquity; for there were evidently two storeys of rooms, at least along the eastern, or entrance, side of the palace, while on the north there may have been an exterior colonnade, or verandah, at the level of the great central court.51 Service areas, and provisions for large banquets and the like, seem to have been situated mostly on the west side of the court, which is itself much larger than any previously known examples. The main entrance was in the middle of the two-storeyed east side. There are few identifiable remains from the upper storey; perhaps blocks carved with the frames of false windows enlivened the groundstorey walls on either side of the main entrance, with a corresponding series of real windows across the whole width of the upper storey, to light both the main ‘propylon’ and the rooms at the upper level. We shall encounter later another example of the use of false windows on exterior walls.52 The view that the visitor now enjoys from the level of the great courtyard would of course have been seen only from rooms in the northeastern corner and from the northern terrace, or verandah; there was no provision for views outward from the court to the plain. The later southwest ‘annex’ with its small court may have been a private ‘domestic quarter,’ or perhaps a service wing. The palace as a whole, isolated on its own terrace at the foot of the mountains, would have been an imposing sight from a distance. Moreover, when one had passed through the main entrance into the courtyard, the central open area with its surrounding stoas, especially when seen from within the corners of the colonnades themselves, must have offered an impressive series of architectural perspectives – the more so if in fact a two-storeyed facade on the east side of the court was set off by single-storeyed stoas on the other three sides. The whole effect would then have been rather like Vitruvius’s ‘Rhodian peristyle’ enlarged to truly monumental proportions. The models by I. Yiannakis show a similar arrangement of co-

lumns in the Houses of The Abduction of Helen and of Dionysos at Pella (figs. 352, 353).53 We have dealt earlier with the effective use of double half-columns on piers at the main entrance to the Vergina palace, and in the ‘passthrough’ from the south colonnade to the anteroom in the middle of the southern wing, from which rooms opened on either side.54 The fine mosaic floors and raised borders of these suites have led to their identification as small dining rooms; in any event, whatever their function, they were probably lighted by windows facing northward to the colonnade and courtyard, that is, somewhat in the manner of the Kyzikene oeci of Vitruvius. There may have been provision for closing these windows with shutters, such as Vitruvius recommends; when the windows were open, persons inside the rooms would have looked out to fascinating chiaroscuro effects created by the cool, shadowed portico and the brilliantly sunlit courtyard beyond.55 On the west side of the central court were three very large rooms, 16.74 × 17.66 m, with marble floors and raised borders. These rooms have also been identified as banquet rooms; they could have served either the palace guards and staff or, perhaps more probably, the lowerranking guests at large state banquets. In this connection, it is worth recalling that the great symposium-tent of Ptolemy II is stated to have held 130 couches.56 Of greater architectural interest is the fact that while the layer of tiles found on the floors shows that the rooms were roofed, there are no traces of any interior supports.57 The free span of the ceiling beams must thus have been 54–5 Greek feet, about the same as in the council-house at Miletos, the longest definitely attested Hellenistic span known to us. These spans would surely have been impossible without the use of triangular trusses; and as far as we know, such trusses were unknown in Greek architecture before Hellenistic times. Thus, if trusses were used in the large western halls of the Vergina palace, a date for their construction in the reign of Antigonos Gonatas (276–39) is perhaps more plausible than any date from the time of Alexander to the first decades of the third century. Even so, the presumed Vergina trusses would be among the earliest, if not the

Residential Architecture earliest, known examples on such a large scale. In short, unless similar experiments were going on at the same time in Egypt and/or Seleukid Syria, we have to conclude that truss-work was first developed by architects working in Macedonia. This conclusion might accord well with the leading role of Macedonian architects in the development of arch-and-vault construction in later Greek architecture.58 There is no real evidence either of gardens or of a pool in either of the two courts, despite the fact that the palace was certainly supplied with water, and the site could easily have been adapted to the layout of gardens. Of the decoration of the interior wall surfaces there seem to be few traces of any significance. The upper parts of the walls were evidently constructed mostly in sundried brick, which would have needed some sort of surface finish. This finish was doubtless a hard stucco, perhaps with the surface ‘so highly polished . . . as to seem to be as glistening as glass,’ such as Vitruvius describes in the palace of Mausollos at Halikarnassos; the stucco would presumably have been painted. The earliest elements of the great palace at Pella (fig. 350), which overlooked the city from the hill to the north,59 have been assigned to the latter half of the fourth century; at this time there must already have been at least two separate courtyards.60 In its final form the palace contained at least four courtyards (areas I, II, IV, and V on the Greek plans). The two southern courtyards (I and II), stood in part on terracing extending out over the southern slopes of the hill. Across the southern front of these courtyards, and at a slightly lower level, ran a long colonnaded veranda commanding imposing views over the lower city toward the sea.61 In the middle of this veranda a ramp led up to a colonnaded propylon some 15 m wide, its gabled roof breaking forward from the roof-line on either side; the plan of this south facade of the palace is rather reminiscent of the entranceway at Vergina.62 The slightly higher levels of Courtyards I and II were probably both accessible from the inner end of the propylon. These courts were evidently surrounded by public, or official, rooms; it is suggested, without any really firm evidence, that Peristyle I may have had a garden

165

of some sort in the open court;63 and Hoepfner restores most of the surrounding rooms as dining rooms.64 The two northern courts (IV and V) were apparently the residential area. A long corridor connected the eastern and western parts of the palace; in the western part was a very large courtyard (III), with rooms, probably for administration and service, to the north and west of it. The size of this service and administrative area was in keeping with a royal palace in the royal capital. Peristyle I was two-storeyed, with Ionic columns over Doric; the large rooms on the north side doubtless extended through the height of both storeys. All these rooms were directly accessible from the north colonnade of the court; the large central room, measuring some 18.5 × 21.5 m, may have served both as audience hall and as banquet hall. The decoration of the walls was probably arranged in superimposed registers; remains include a stone plinth course, and fragments of three-quarter columns that perhaps flanked wall-niches containing statues (fig. 350b). The large Peristyle II, some 40 m square, may have been designed for major ceremonies and receptions. The north colonnade of Peristyle I was a sort of pastas of the type familiar in houses at Olynthos; off the east end of the pastas opened a horseshoe-shaped room, off the west end one of apsidal plan. These rooms may have been shrines to members of the royal family, although no statue bases were found in them. To the north of the junction of ‘residential’ peristyles IV and V was a bath suite, which may have been part of a palaistra complex;65 another, smaller, bath suite was located in the northwest sector of area VI.66 The great villa or palace at Samos occupied a substantial proportion of the low Kastro Hill above the harbour (figs. 344, 356); this hill must have been the earliest acropolis of the Greek city, but by the time of the tyrant Polykrates had already lost that distinction to the lofty Ambelos ridge to the north, beneath which the aqueduct of Eupalinos runs. Unfortunately, much of the Kastro complex has been destroyed by subsequent overbuilding, and the preserved portions now lie in part under a church and cemetery. Nevertheless, enough has been recovered to give

166

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

some idea of the layout, and to permit an estimate of its overall size.67 The remains that are currently visible spread over an area of some 2300m2, and may represent less than one-half of the original plan. Thus, the complete structure could have spread over some 5000–6000 m2, that is, perhaps as much as twice the area of the House of the Faun at Pompeii, which occupies an entire city block. The Samian building evidently continued in use at least until the midthird century AD; but the original construction was Hellenistic, probably of the first half of the second century BC.68 In the course of its history the palace may have been used at various times by Antony and Cleopatra, by Augustus (twice), and by Tiberius, perhaps also by Claudius, Trajan, and Hadrian. The palace was skilfully located where the Kastro Hill drops away to the north and east; on the south it looked out directly over the sea. It contained two peristyles. The Doric columns of the northern courtyard enclosed an area some 21 m square, perhaps at some time laid out as a garden. The southern courtyard was 20.58 × 14.7 m (70 × 50 Greek feet of 0.294 m); on the south side there was a spectacular view of the sea beyond the south colonnade, which was simply a line of columns along the top of the cliffs, doubtless with a balustrade for safety.69 Off the north colonnade of the northern peristyle, that is, in the location especially favoured for main rooms, there were two large oeci, each covering about 40 m2, with walls built of fine ashlar masonry. The axis of the southern courtyard was a bit further to the west than that of the northern; remains of rooms are preserved on the northern and western sides, and there may have been others on the east. Due to later overbuilding on the east side, it is uncertain whether there were rooms on that side of the northern peristyle; and there seems to be no evidence that any of the palace was two-storeyed. However, in view of its resemblance to the hilltop palaces, the House of the Consul Attalos, and the houses west of the Lower Agora (figs. 392, top, above the roadway, and 358a–b), all at Pergamon, and on the basis of the Pergamene character of some of the architectural elements, it may plausibly be suggested that the building was two-storeyed

along the western, or uphill, side of both peristyles, and perhaps also, in part, along the northern side of the northern courtyard. An upper storey along the western wing would have commanded a view toward the harbour over the single-storeyed eastern border of the courts; on the north, upper-storey rooms flanking two large oeci, the interiors of which perhaps ran through two full storeys, would have presented an imposing facade toward the lower city – an important consideration, since the main approach and entrance presumably lay on this side. Yet despite its location on the edge of the cliffs and overlooking the harbour, the Samian palace is very different from the seaside villas of Campanian wall paintings, which were probably based in part on Alexandrian models, whether seaside, lakeside, or riverside.70 The Nile delta could not of course provide the combination of sea, coastal cliffs, and mountain backdrop that was so skilfully exploited by Italic architects. Yet if even only part of the inspiration for this type of residential architecture was Alexandrian, it was among the most significant contributions of Ptolemaic Egypt to the architecture of Roman Imperial times, and also an area in which Ptolemaic architects, inspired perhaps by Pharaonic prototypes, were successful in combining Egyptian with Greek ideas. Because of lack of space, the palaces of Pergamon (figs. 69 top, 358a)71 were a good deal smaller than the complex at Samos. Still, the courtyard of the most southerly of the series (‘Group V’) was about the same size as the northern peristyle at Samos. While the court of the next structure to the north (‘Group IV’) is less than half as big, the peristyle of the House of the Consul Attalos, between the Lower Agora and Gymnasium Terraces (fig. 392, top, above the roadway), enclosed even in its first phase an area of some 20 × 10.75 m,72 and the square court of Peristyle House I (fig. 359a), west of the Lower Agora, was even larger, measuring about 15.5 m per side.73 As we have already remarked, after the construction of the Group V palace on the acropolis, it and Group IV could be regarded as a single, large palace complex, provided with two courtyards and covering an area of more than 3000 m2 – perhaps less than half that of

Residential Architecture the Samos palace, but about the same as such substantial public buildings as the gymnasia at Priene (2965 m2) and Delos (3300 m2) (figs. 283, 275), and about twice as large as the ‘Hellenistic gymnasium’ at Miletos (1675 m2) or the entire block of Delian houses that includes the House of the Masks (ca. 1500 m2) (figs. 290–1, 357). The court of the Group IV palace has traditionally been shown surrounded by corridors, with doors giving access to the court, rather than by the usual colonnades (three doors in each of the north and south corridors, two on the east, and two on the west leading into the court from the long entrance corridor.74 The corridors would have been of unequal depth, for the most important rooms opened off the east corridor, which was the deepest of the four (fig. 358a). Hoepfner has proposed a different restoration of Group IV as a domestic complex, with a normal peristyle court and three rooms opening off the east colonnade, four off the south. Presumably there was an upper storey; in Hoepfner’s restoration the stairway to the upper storey would have been in the southeast corner (fig. 358b). The Group V complex is regarded as the public area of the palace buildings. The colonnades probably had nine spans per side. There were two large rooms on each of the east and north sides; the larger of the two northern rooms was the most spacious in the building, and both it and the slightly smaller room on the east side of the court were appreciably larger than the main (northwest) oecus in the House of the Consul Attalos (fig. 392, top, above the roadway). The large and mediumsized rooms are all restored as banquet rooms; the kitchen was in the southeast corner, the stairs to the upper storey at the northeast (fig. 358b). The Pergamene palaces had little opportunity for dramatic vistas on the north or south, or toward the street outside to the west; but any upperstorey rooms on the eastern side of the courts must have enjoyed a splendid prospect over the city wall and river valley to the plain and mountains beyond. The House of the Consul Attalos, and Peristyle House I below it to the southwest (figs. 392, 359a), must both have been designed to provide attractive views over the lower city walls to the river and plain below – in the case of

167

the House of Attalos perhaps through large openings in the back wall of the colonnade on the downhill side of the court, in Peristyle House I probably by replacing most of the downhill back wall with an open colonnade with balustrade.75 Moreover, both houses would have been very impressive when seen from below. In fact, like the Samos complex, these Pergamene houses were residential examples of the interest in both outward- and inward-facing vistas found in the sanctuaries both of Pergamon itself and at Kos and Lindos (figs. 69, 70a–b, 73, 75), and discussed elsewhere in this volume;76 and similar effects were achieved in the smaller Peristyle Houses II and III west of the Lower Agora (fig. 359a–b), probably again by means of an open colonnade on the downhill side of the court.77 An interesting feature of the ‘Group IV’ palace, the House of Attalos, and Peristyle Houses II and III at Pergamon, is that none of them have the largest room, or rooms, on the north side of the court. In the case of the houses this arrangement was perhaps imposed by the contours of the site, since placing the largest room on the north would have involved either more terracing and filling, or else a radical change in the overall plan of the houses; in the ‘Group IV’ palace, however, there must have been some other reason, now unknown to us. The sites of the House of the Consul Attalos and of Peristyle Houses I–III were ideal for exploiting the possibility of dramatic vistas, since the ground falls away steeply to the southsouthwest, and in the case of the House of Attalos also toward the south-southeast. Dorpfeld be¨ lieved that the House of Attalos, at least in its Hellenistic phases, had no rooms on the southern, or downhill, side of the courtyard.78 Thus, the windows in the back wall of the south colonnade and those in the south gallery or, as already suggested, the openings between the columns of colonnades with balustrades, must have afforded excellent vistas toward the south and southwest. On the axis of the original court to the east and west were large square rooms; that on the west measured almost ten metres per side. There is no reason to think that Hellenistic architects ever employed Vitruvius’s proportions of height to area for such rooms.79 Vitruvius’s

168

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

prescriptions, insofar as they represent actual architectural practice at all, were clearly based on Roman interest in the impressiveness of the sheer voluume enclosed, an interest that was foreign to Hellenistic secular architecture outside Ptolemaic Egypt.80 Nevertheless, Dorpfeld was prob¨ ably right in supposing that there was no upper floor above the large western room, which may thus have been lighted from the gallery as well as from the main-floor colonnade. The kitchen may have been in the northeast corner of the house. The large rooms in Peristyle Houses II (west of the court) and III (east of the court) were probably only a single storey in height, although the room east of the court in House III seems to have been the main oecus of the dwelling (figs. 359a–b). In both these houses, and also in Peristyle House I, the kitchen was evidently in the northwest corner. The small room beside the northeast entrance of House III seems to have been a latrine. In the southwest corner of House II, opening off the large southwest room, were two much smaller and quite secluded rooms. Peristyle Houses I and II both have a suite of three rooms behind the deep north colonnade of the court. In House I the side rooms were evidently accessible only from the central room, although there were probably windows looking out to the colonnade; in House II all rooms were accessible from the court, and there was a door between the central and the western room. The series of three rooms in House I is very similar to the arrangement of three rooms in the middle of the south wing of the Vergina palace. The function of the small court and rooms outside the northern two-thirds of the east wall of House I is unclear; this area may have served the business interests of the owner of the house. Many, if not the majority, of Vitruvius’s ‘affluent Greeks’ must have lived in the Seleukid and Ptolemaic kingdoms. Yet although the great cities and suburbs of late Hellenistic Syria doubtless contained an increasing number of residences large enough to be called palaces, even in the Seleukid capital of Antioch there seems to be no reference to a royal palace as such until well on into the second century. In any case, we have no examples of large Hellenistic resi-

dences from any of the more purely Greek cities of the Seleukid realm; and it is clear that outside the Graeco-Macedonian ruling circle residential architecture, like other types of building, was usually a mixture of Greek and local forms and ideas. A good, and fairly well preserved, example of such hybrid palace architecture is to be found in Jordan, at Iraq al-Amir, some 20 km west of Amman. The Qasr el-Abd (fig. 360) has been identified with what Josephus calls a ‘baris’ of Hyrkanos, presumably built in the first quarter of the second century BC, since Hyrkanos died in 175. The Qasr was decorated with mixed Hellenistic and Near Eastern forms. It was two-storeyed; in both storeys the exterior columns were of the Corinthian order, but at least at the front corners the lower order was separated from the upper half-columns by large slabs with lions carved in relief; this motif was taken over from the old Near Eastern decorative tradition, as were probably also the relief eagles at corners above the half-columns on both the front and rear facades. Both facades were crowned by a Doric entablature; in the interior Doric entablatures of different sizes evidently surmounted Corinthian columns and half-columns. On the exterior the building measured 19 × 37.5 m. Between the north and south ‘vestibules’ the ground storey was divided into four modest rooms surrounded by a corridor; above these rooms the upper storey probably consisted of a single large hall with a single surrounding aisle. While the ground plan in some respects resembles that of a Greek temple, the elevation and much of the decoration are quite un-Greek in appearance.81 For a long time Seleukid royal residences were evidently simply larger than average upperclass houses; they were not designed specifically as ‘royal palaces,’ although they had of course to meet the needs of king and court.82 In Egypt, by contrast, the Ptolemies inherited a tradition of palace architecture that probably stretched back unbroken to the Bronze Age; although they added some distinctively Greek architectural features, they obviously found others already well established. For example, a succession of courtyards is a common feature of the architecture of Pharaonic

Residential Architecture Egypt; and hypostyle halls with clerestories, of an essentially basilican plan, are also familiar in the architecture of the New Kingdom. As far as Ptolemaic contributions are concerned, one such seems to have given rise to the name of Vitruvius’s ‘oeci called Egyptian.’83 Vitruvius notes that these oeci resembled basilicas in having internal colonnades; and in fact several saloons with internal peristyles are mentioned in the description, in Athenaeus’s Deipnosophists, of the great river-barge, the Thalamegos, of Ptolemy IV Philopator (221–203). Presumably, such halls were already common in Ptolemaic palace architecture by the last quarter of the third century. Indeed, the symposium-tent, or pavilion, of Ptolemy II (283–246), also described in a passage preserved by Athenaeus, was evidently an even earlier, though ephemeral, version of a huge Egyptian oecus, erected simply for the occasion of the winter festival of Dionysos, yet clearly reproducing in the form of a gigantic tent the arrangement described by Vitruvius: a central colonnaded area, lit by clerestory windows and surrounded by aisles with lower ceilings.84 Vitruvius gives no explanation of the origin of the term ‘Cyzicene oecus’; but he obviously regarded this type of hall as alien to the Italic tradition (non italicae consuetudinis), though typical of luxurious residences in the eastern Mediterranean. Cyzicene oeci apparently had no interior columns, so that the name cannot have been inspired by a well-known example, or examples, with columns of Prokonnesian marble; and the climate of Kyzikos, on the south shore of the Marmara, makes it an unlikely location for the development of a tradition of dining rooms facing northward toward a garden court. Perhaps the original Cyzicene oeci had walls veneered with veined marble and other coloured stones, among which Prokonnesian marble may have been especially popular.85 In any event, Ptolemaic Egypt may well have been the original home of the oeci of this type.86 The mild climate of Egypt favoured year-round gardens; a northward exposure, with doors and shutters that could be closed against noonday glare,87 would have been very welcome in summer; and the use of luxury stones and woods, often imported from abroad, is attested not only by the description of Philopa-

169

tor’s Thalamegos, but also by the great monoliths of the Alabaster Tomb at Alexandria.88 On a smaller scale, oeci with windows as well as doors facing the court occur in Delian houses.89 Despite the lack of actual remains of the palace architecture of Alexandria, the literary and the archaeological evidence, taken together, allow us to add still more detail to our general picture of the nature and extent of the Ptolemaic achievement. At Alexandria, as at Pella and Pergamon and later at Rome, successive rulers added to or modified the original palace complex; in the end, Strabo tells us, the palaces and associated buildings and the palace park occupied between a quarter and a third of the total area of the Ptolemaic capital,90 and even extended out to the islands in the great harbour. The extent of the park and gardens must have been impressive; moreover, the position of Alexandria, on a low strip of land between Lake Mareotis and the sea, would have facilitated the bringing in of water (whether in open channels or in pipes) to serve ornamental pools and fountains. Already in Pharaonic times, water had been brought into riverside palaces and houses; in the New Kingdom ornamental ponds surrounded by shrubbery and gardens were an important and attractive feature of palace architecture (fig. 401). The available evidence suggests that Hellenistic palaces in Egypt were similarly enhanced with pools, and even fountains, set in garden courts.91 Public fountains had long been a familiar feature of Greek cities; in Hellenistic times they increased in number, size, and elegance, for instance, in the examples of Ialysos on Rhodes, at the lower entrance of the gymnasium at Pergamon, and the handsome Laodike Building at Miletos (Corithian capital, fig. 416).92 From Alexandria, we have a description of a float in the Dionysiac procession of Ptolemy II, displaying ‘a deep cavern,’ ‘from which flowed two fountains, one of milk, the other of wine.’93 Moreover, a poem preserved on a third-century papyrus apparently describes a richly decorated fountain, consisting of a niche with statues (perhaps in the intervals between decorative half-columns) and crowned with a semidome (fig. 361); water spouted into a basin set

170

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

in the niche; and the whole structure was built in a combination of white Parian marble, blue Hymettan, and yellow stone from Syene.94 This fountain (if the papyrus description is correctly interpreted as such) may have been a public structure; but we may be sure that if such fountains existed in the public areas of Ptolemaic cities, there would have been others in the royal palaces and garden-courts. These Ptolemaic garden-courts, moreover, were certainly surrounded by colonnades in the Greek manner. Where the sites lay high enough above the water table, they may have been further embellished with a sunken cryptoporticus on one or more sides.95 At any rate, the use of Doric peristyle courts in Alexandrian houses and palaces, from early Ptolemaic times onward, is attested by their presence in the rock-cut tombs of Alexandrian cemeteries, which clearly imitate the plans and forms of domestic architecture (figs. 220–5).96 In fact, these tombs still constitute by far the largest corpus of actual physical remains of Ptolemaic Hellenistic architecture of any sort. If the assumption is correct that the tombs reflect, on a more modest scale, the plans of royal and noble palaces, such palaces must have had their living quarters grouped around peristyle courts, with the largest room or rooms (whether for audiences or banquets, or perhaps both) laid out axially in relation to the court.97 The borders of the tomb-courts are generally interpreted as ‘relief’ versions of freestanding colonnades, from which the surrounding rooms were accessible by a series of doors; some of these rooms or halls may have extended across the full width of the court. Large halls might be preceded by a broad, shallow vestibule decorated with half-columns (or full columns, if space for these was available), in the manner of Mustafa Pasha Tomb II and the Shatby tomb at Alexandria; or the hall might open directly off the colonnade of the court, an arrangement that was ‘compressed’ into a ‘single-plane relief’ on the south side of the court of Tomb I in the Mustafa Pasha cemetery.98 It is an attractive hypothesis to connect the plan of the main rooms in Mustafa Pasha Tombs I and IV with some of the Hellenistic halls described by Vitruvius. The wide, shallow hall

opening off the south side of the court of Mustafa Pasha I may well reproduce a ‘Cyzicene oecus’ of the type described by Vitruvius. It certainly has the proportions, if not the actual dimensions, required for accommodating two sets of dining couches facing each other across a central open space; it had a northern exposure; in the middle of the north wall a doorway opens to the south colonnade of the court; and the flanking openings, which may represent Vitruvius’s lumina fenestrarum valvata, would have offered the two groups of diners attractive views of the gardens and other embellishments in the peristyle court of a real mansion. It should be noted that the large oeci in some Delian houses, as in the House of the Dolphins (fig. 362), likewise have three doors, though with a southern rather than a northern exposure.99 The south facade of the court of Mustafa Pasha IV may be derived from a similar oecus, or hall, with a normal door leading into the central area of the room, and windows with shutters (lumina valvata) at either end; the overall axial arrangement of the rooms here is even more striking. In the Shatby tomb, the vestibule between the court and the tomb chamber seems to be based on a rather different arrangement of rooms. In fact, we may have here something along the lines of the vestibule of Philopator’s Thalamegos, adorned with columns or half-columns on at least three sides, and with a combination of proskenion and propylaion leading through to the largest of the several saloons with internal peristyles. The great hall on the river barge evidently extended almost the full width of the vessel, just as the Shatby tomb chamber extends almost the full width of its vestibule; in the tomb, the door and flanking windows in the long sides of the vestibule are rather reminiscent of the proskenion of a theatre; and the half-columns along three of the four walls of the large tomb chamber can perhaps be interpreted as a ‘relief version’ of the internal peristyle of an ‘Egyptian oecus.’100 In Mustafa Pasha III, we find what appears to be a low stage backed by a columnar ‘scaenae fons’; but if so, this ‘scaenographic’ treatment is a strange mixture of Greek and Italic forms, in which a low ‘pulpitum’ of Italic type projects

Residential Architecture in front of a Hellenistic proskenion facade.101 Tombs and heroa with facades derived from theatre architecture were certainly known in Hellenistic times; the Archokrateion at Lindos is an outstanding example (figs. 211–12).102 We even find, in the Hellenistic remodelling of the theatre at Syracuse, the same combination of Italic pulpitum and Hellenistic proskenion as in Mustafa Pasha III.103 At Syracuse, however, the combination was evidently intended to permit the presentation of Western Greek phlyakes plays as well as the comedies and tragedies of Old Greece; at Alexandria, such a hybrid stagehouse would have been unnecessary, at least as far as our knowledge goes. Although the Syracusan and Alexandrian monuments must be very close to each other in date, it is likely that the facade in Mustafa Pasha III represents, not a stage building, but rather the facade of an audience hall with a raised platform in front. In a real palace or mansion, the king or a high official would appear on this platform before petitioners assembled in the court;104 in the tomb, the platform could have been used for the making of offerings or for other ceremonies honouring the deceased, who had perhaps been a chrematistes appointed by the king. In short, while the facade of the tomb-court may have been related in function to the stagehouse of a theatre, its architectural form was probably copied from a noble’s mansion, or even from part of the royal palace. Since the Shatby and Mustafa Pasha tombs all seem to belong to the third century BC, and present many features attested, in the same period, by the literary and archaeological evidence, we can probably assume the eventual existence, within the complex of buildings in the palace park at Alexandria, of the following elements: (a) at least two, and probably three or more, peristyle courts,105 one or more of ‘public,’ one or more of ‘private’ character; (b) along one side of the main ‘public’ court, a raised platform, or a shallow colonnade extending the full width of the court; at the back of the platform, perhaps a wall adorned with half-columns, having in the middle a monumental entrance, possibly with two or more free-standing columns, in the man-

171

ner of the ‘entrance room’ F in the Vergina palace; within this entrance, a large audience hall (perhaps also used for ‘state’ banquets), of basilican form, with clerestory windows above an internal peristyle; (c) one or more ‘private’ courts, probably of different sizes; opening off these, oeci of both Egyptian and Kyzikene type, depending on the direction in which they faced; accessible from one of the courts, sleeping quarters and rooms reserved for the women of the royal family and their personal attendants, with perhaps additional small oeci for their use; (d) bathrooms; (e) kitchens and storerooms; and (f) quarters for household officials and servants, and for the palace guard. It is unlikely that any other Hellenistic monarchs maintained a palace establishment comparable in scale and luxury with what may be assumed to have existed at Ptolemaic Alexandria. On the other hand, our Alexandrian ‘skeleton’ has some features in common with the palace at Pella, and could also be convincingly fleshed out along the general lines that we find in the Imperial palace on the Palatine at Rome. Yet the outlines of the ‘skeleton’ are based entirely on evidence, whether literary or archaeological, that comes from the eastern Mediterranean and from periods earlier (usually centuries earlier) than that of Imperial Rome. If the proposed outline of a Ptolemaic palace presents similarities with the palace of the Roman emperors, the reason must be that Roman palaces directly or indirectly borrowed many of their features from their Ptolemaic predecessors. Of course, in cases where ancient builders were anxious to get as much usable floor space as possible, whether due to crowded conditions or to a desire to increase rental income, they did not worry about theoretical principles in plan or proportion.106 For example, on Delos there were certainly upper rooms above the ground-floor oeci in the insula of the House of the Comedians and the House of the Tritons (fig. 363).107 The French excavators found remains of wall decoration from the upper storey in the large oecus maior of both houses; in fact, the upper floor

172

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

of the Comedians seems to have been a separate, self-contained dwelling, with its own entrance beside, but quite distinct from, that leading into the ground-floor peristyle.108 We should be careful, however, not to apply the standards of the crowded bourgeois community of Delos to royal palaces and the houses of wealthy courtiers, even in constricted areas such as the hilltop and lower slopes of the site of Pergamon. Middle-class residences at Pergamon were probably not unlike those at Delos; but as is still the case in our crowded modern metropolises, those who could better afford to spread themselves would doubtless have done so. Delos itself provides an example, in the House of the Hermes (figs. 346 and 347a–b), of quite a different aspect of residential architecture adapted to landscape.109 This house is much smaller in overall area than the palaces at Vergina and Samos; it is also astonishingly reminiscent of some of our contemporary multi-level houses on ‘ravine’ lots, for it climbs in four different levels up the hillside in the region to the southeast of the precinct of Apollo. The levels were evidently laid out so that the upper storeys receded slightly uphill from those below; but the exact extent of the upper floors is uncertain. The collapse of the highest levels, which ascended furthest up the slope, produced such masses of debris that the lowest storeys were largely filled in, and thus preserved for the French excavators. The main courtyard was two-storeyed, with ground-floor colonnades and upper balconies. The most important family living rooms were on these two levels, with bedrooms and other private areas in the two uppermost storeys. The rooms on the lowest level, entered from the street on the downhill side of the house, would have been ideally located to serve as Vitruvius’s ‘public rooms which any of the people have the right to enter, even without an invitation, that is, entrance courts, cavaedia, peristyles and all areas intended for the like purpose.’ Of course there is nothing to show that the rooms were in fact used in this way. The designers of the house took advantage of the scarping of the hillside to bring in water from further uphill, to serve a small fountain on the south side of the courtyard; from the fountain

the water flowed into a cistern beneath the court, the normal provision for the storage of water in Delian houses. In addition to the large oecus on the north side of the court, the eastern section of the ground floor also contained what were evidently a dining room, a bath, and a latrine. The area of the ground floor was about 400 m2, that of the next level, which extended farther up the slope, probably ca. 575 m2. The area of the third level, depending on how far northward it extended, could have been anywhere from 280 to 500 m2, that of the fourth level ca. 275– 85 m2. Thus, the total area of the house was some 1550–1750 m2, that is, about the area of the complete block of the House of the Masks (fig. 357), not much smaller than Palace V at Pergamon (fig. 358a), and about two and onehalf times the combined area of the main and upper floors of the House on the Hill at Delos. Delian houses illustrate two other features of Hellenistic residential architecture, one functional, the other essentially decorative, that apparently had no Classical predecessors: the use of arch-and-vault construction, and Vitruvius’s ‘Rhodian peristyle,’ in which the colonnade on one side of the central court (usually the north) had columns higher than those on the other three sides. Because of the lack of springs on Delos, householders normally depended on rainwater shed from the tiled roofs and collected in cisterns under the courtyard. The covering of such cisterns was obviously a special problem on an island lacking both timber and stone that could be cut into long, large blocks; yet if the builders were limited to the use of relatively short crossbeams (and even these might have to be imported), a series of transverse supporting walls was indispensable. These walls could have been built almost entirely in solid masonry, with relatively small connecting openings; the openings could in that case have been either rectangular, or corbelled like those of the great public cistern at New Pleuron in Aitolia.110 A series of transverse arches, however, as in the large cistern by the Delian theatre (fig. 364), had the dual advantage of requiring less stone and leaving more of the cubic content of the cistern free for the storage of water. Obviously, a third solution would

Residential Architecture have been the construction of a continuous barrel vault over the whole cistern, either in stone or in mortar work. Stone vaulting, however, would have involved not only a much greater quantity of fitted stone but also much more elaborate centering, the wood for which also had to be imported; and mortar-work vaults, while not entirely unknown in the Hellenistic world east of the Adriatic, were certainly rare. Arches were also used above ground in the architecture of Hellenistic Delos, as elsewhere in the Hellenistic world, when a considerable weight of masonry had to be supported above an opening of some size. From the nature of the case, such situations were more common in public buildings than in private houses; but the doorway that gave access to the upper-storey apartment of the House of the Comedians was probably a good example of the use of the arch in a Delian residential building (fig. 363).111 The doorway in question was not particularly wide, even though it evidently provided the only means of access to the upper floor of the house; yet it did have to support the weight of the outer wall of the upper storey. Perhaps more important, it may have seemed desirable to distinguish clearly between the entrance to the upper apartment and the opening that led to the vestibule of the ground-floor suite. Both these aims could be achieved by using an arched opening for one of the two entrances. It may be noted here that a fairly common decorative feature of late Hellenistic architecture on Delos is the replacement of a horizontal lintel with a single marble block cut in the shape of an arch; some of the ‘unassigned’ examples found by the French excavators may have come from private houses. The use of the arch in Delian architecture inevitably raises the question of the degree to which, during the second and early first centuries BC, Delian houses and building techniques can legitimately be classed as Hellenistic rather than Italic or Roman, or at least ItaloHellenistic. Certainly, there was a large Italian colony on Delos by the later second century; yet the architecture of the houses and commercial buildings erected for this colony seems to have been Hellenistic, not Italic. For example, the Italians on Delos did not, as far as we know, live

173

in atrium, or even atrium-cum-peristyle, houses of the type familiar from Pompeii and Herculaneum; nor has it been possible to isolate a whole group of buildings of specifically Italic character. In fact, the architecture of the Italian colony on Delos, whether residential or of some other type, seems to have been almost entirely ‘Aegean Hellenistic.’ This situation is not really surprising, since most of the contractors would have been natives of the Aegean, and would have worked most readily in the familiar local idiom. The arched cisterns and doorways of Hellenistic Delos, insofar as they represent ideas and techniques from beyond the limits of the Cyclades, were most probably derived from monuments in Asia Minor and the larger offshore islands.112 The houses of the Theatre Quarter on Delos also include examples (for instance, in the House of the Trident113 and the House of the Masks [fig. 365]) of courtyards with the columns on part, or all, of one side higher than those on the other three. The term ‘Rhodian peristyle,’ applied by Vitruvius to the juxtaposition of orders of unequal height, suggests, though it does not prove, an Aegean origin for colonnades of this type; and Rhodes was certainly the most important economic and artistic centre in the Aegean in early and midHellenistic times. However, it is also possible that the ‘Rhodian peristyle’ was developed by Alexandrian architects; and the idea may have originated in courtyards with an upper storey on only one of the four sides, as in the large houses at Pella discussed above and in the palaces at Pella and Vergina.114 In any case, juxtaposed colonnades of unequal height occur in a wide variety of Hellenistic buildings, as at Priene, in the courtyard of House XXXIII (both phases; figs. 366–7) and at Miletos, on the inner facade of the Councilhouse propylon (fig. 324), in the propylon of the ‘Hellenistic gymnasium,’ and on the facade of the temple or shrine in the middle of the western side of the North Agora (figs. 290–1, 167). An arrangement similar to the last-named example is also found in the courtyard shrines of Zeus at Megalopolis in Arkadia (fig. 66) and at Dodona in Epirus (fig. 15). Evidently, such features were especially popular when the architect was anxious to emphasize one side, or part of one side, of a colonnaded court in order to

174

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

draw attention to what lay behind the higher columns; for instance, the Prienian and Delian, and probably also the Vitruvian, examples all stood in front of the entrance of major living spaces or dining rooms. A rather more intricate combination of orders of different heights is found in the South Peristyle of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais (figs. 341–2), where the idea was probably derived from the large-scale residential architecture of Alexandria.115 It is perhaps significant that there seems to be no evidence for a true ‘Rhodian peristyle’ in the palaces at Pella, Vergina, and Pergamon, or in the large private houses of Pella and Pergamon; and the ‘Rhodian peristyle’ with different orders at Demetrias may be a Macedonian adaptation of an idea borrowed from elsewhere. This largely negative evidence may be another indication of the derivation of the Rhodian peristyle from a site in the eastern or southeastern Mediterranean, even if not specifically from Rhodes; in this as in other Hellenistic innovations, Alexandria is a likely source. For the courtyard colonnades of Hellenistic residences, whether palaces like that of Vergina (fig. 355), comfortable merchant homes on Delos (fig. 362), or the small houses of Priene (fig. 366), Doric was generally the preferred order; this was probably also true, though perhaps not to the same extent, at Pompeii and Herculaneum, and is certainly true of the courts of the Shatbi and Mustafa Pasha tombs at Alexandria (figs. 220– 5). Ionic seems to have been popular in Macedonia, as can be seen at Pella and in the entrance hall of the Vergina palace; but for courtyards the slender forms of late Doric, with its lack of awkwardly projecting base-members and its plain and simple capitals, were more often preferred. Perhaps, too, Doric was thought to provide an effective contrast to the increasing richness of mosaic pavements and the often elaborate painted or moulded decoration of the walls. This same combination of simplicity and effectiveness made the order popular for the exterior (at least at ground level) of isolated Hellenistic stoas, as well as for the colonnades of Hellenistic agoras. In any event, outside Macedonia, and perhaps Epirus, the use of Ionic in the above contexts was evidently unusual before very late Hellenistic and Roman times.

The situation was somewhat different when the peristyle of the house had an upper floor; for Hellenistic architects were fond of changing the order, for variety of decorative interest if nothing else, whenever two sets of columns were placed one above the other (e.g., figs. 71–2). Obviously, the use of Ionic at the level of the gallery involved a good deal of additional carving, not only for bases and capitals, but also in the fitting of the balustrades between the bases; and in fact it seems that in many Delian galleries columns were replaced by rectangular piers. When gallery colonnades were added to the House of the Consul Attalos at Pergamon, the order used was Ionic; and the gallery entablatures of the Houses of the Comedians and of the Tritons on Delos were essentially Ionic in character. It would seem, however, that builders of houses often preferred to avoid some of the complications of the Ionic order. On Delos, both the main floor and the gallery of the House of the Hermes were Doric (fig. 346), and both the upper storeys of the House of the Pediments, in the Comedians block (fig. 363), had Doric architraves and friezes supported by plain rectangular piers;116 similar piers were also used in the galleries of the Houses of the Comedians and of the Tritons.117 On the whole, extant remains suggest that complete Ionic orders may have been almost as unusual in galleries as in ground-floor peristyles of Hellenistic houses, at least in the Aegean world. Of course, the situation may have been different in the large houses of wealthy citizens, of which we have so few actual examples; and the Ionic gallery-colonnade of the atrium in the Casa Sannitica at Herculaneum may indicate that Ionic upper orders were fairly common in the ItaloHellenistic style.118 Yet we shall see in a later chapter that from the late fifth century onward Ionic had been preferred for essentially ornamental details, especially in interiors, even where the exterior was Doric.119 This preference was particularly strong in the case of ‘relief’ ornament (half-columns and engaged entablatures), though here ‘mixed’ orders were increasingly popular in Hellenistic work. Ionic and Corinthian halfcolumns and piers are also found in the doorways and interiors of Hellenistic rock-cut tombs

Residential Architecture at Alexandria,120 although the courtyard colonnades of these tombs (true to the preferences of ‘real’ architecture) were Doric, even when reduced from free-standing to relief versions. Among the stucco relief decorations preserved in the houses of Priene, Ionic motifs, or mixtures of Ionic and Doric elements, are quite common;121 and the Ioannina Museum possesses several examples of capitals of small Ionic half-columns that formed part of the decoration of Hellenistic houses in Epiros. The stucco decorations of houses on Delos show the same general preferences as those from Priene; complete Ionic engaged orders, as well as Ionic entablatures, occur frequently. The House of the Comedians block has yielded several examples, both from that house itself and from the neighbouring House of the Tritons; yet Doric entablatures are also common in Delian stucco work, with several examples coming from this same block.122 On Delos, Corinthian was evidently less common, though it does occur, apparently in the frame of a wall-niche, among the stuccos of the Comedians block.123 At least some of the small-scale, but brightly painted, Corinthian half-columns and piers (many of them of Hellenistic date) in the Graeco-Roman Museum at Alexandria must also have come from domestic contexts;124 and the widespread popularity of Corinthian on the frames of middle and late Hellenistic grave stelai may indicate an equally widespread use in Hellenistic houses.125 Nowhere else in the Hellenistic world, however, do we have evidence of that combination of picturesque or unusual forms with costly materials and luxurious finish, that seems to have been a hallmark of Ptolemaic palace architecture. There were 50-cubit wooden columns in the pavilion of Ptolemy II, which we have already mentioned in other connections; the corner columns, imitating palm trees, presumably had palm-capitals of Egyptian type, while the others were in the form of Dionysiac thyrsoi.126 On the Thalamegos of Ptolemy IV, the ‘propylaion’ leading from the vestibule (prostas) was revetted with ivory and ‘the most expensive wood.’ The main saloon was panelled with split cedar and cypress; its doors had cedar panels decorated with ivory; its columns were of cypress

175

and their Corinthian capitals were covered with ivory and gold; the entablature was gilded and adorned with ivory frieze figures; the coffered ceiling, of cypress, was carved and gilded. The saloon in the gynaikonitis, by contrast, was Egyptian in style, with column-shafts ‘bulging as they ascended’ (i.e., with the greatest diameter partway up the shaft as a very conspicuous feature) and made of alternating black and white drums; the capitals were various forms of Egyptian plant-capital. The speaker further notes that in the ‘Egyptian’ style, walls also might have alternating black and white courses or blocks, and were sometimes built of alabaster; these statements are borne out by the ‘painted masonry’ of many Alexandrian tombs and by the Alabaster Tomb itself (fig. 219).127 On the upper deck of the river-barge, the ceiling of the smallest oecus had lozenge-shaped coffers, that of the Dionysiac oecus apparently Dionysiac scenes or symbols; another large saloon had a peristyle with columns of stone imported from India.128 Yet the use of Corinthian columns of large scale, such as we find on the river-barge, seems to have had few, if any, parallels in the Hellenistic architecture of the Aegean and western Asia Minor, where Corinthian was never as popular as in Egypt and Syria.129 As a matter of fact, by far the greatest proportion of the extant wall decoration of Hellenistic houses was executed in paint rather than in three-dimensional architectural forms; and here, whatever the indigenous contributions of Italic wall painters, it seems clear that the initial steps in the development of both the First, or ‘Incrustation,’ and the Second or ‘Architectural,’ Pompeian Styles took place in the eastern Mediterranean.130 The panels painted in solid colours on the walls of Olynthian houses of the late fifth and fourth centuries had borne only a very generalized relationship to the appearance of contemporary monumental masonry, in which in any event colouristic affects were still in their infancy. With the passage of time, however, ‘relief-architecture’ in stucco, the scoring of the plaster to represent toichobates, orthostates, and isodomic or pseudoisodomic masonry, and the imitation of drafted bands around the edges of the blocks became increasingly common in the

176

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

wall decoration of private houses. Examples have long been known from Priene and Delos; and important remains, with painted architectural ornament as well as scoring of the stucco to imitate masonry, have been found in the Greek excavations at Amphipolis in Thrace; ornament of this type was a lower-cost imitation of real relief architecture in stone, such as has been found in the latest phases of the palace at Pella, and (in somewhat simpler form) in the council-houses at Miletos and Herakleia.131 Moreover, while panels in solid colours continue to be popular down to late Hellenistic times, Delian wall decorators turned more and more to painted imitations of threedimensional carving (egg- and leaf-mouldings, maeanders, cables, miniature figure-friezes), and of such coloured stones as veined marbles, conglomerates, and alabaster. The excavation of the block of the House of the Comedians on Delos added substantially to known examples of such decoration; as already noted, the early Hellenistic Alabaster Tomb at Alexandria provides an actual example of the real masonry that interior decorators tried to imitate in paint. Yet while eastern Mediterranean designers may have been responsible for replacing the imitation of masonry in the First Style with the imitation of architectural ornament that characterizes the Second Style, the evidence currently available suggests that the change from simple ornamental architecture to complete architectural vistas, which occurred during the lifetime of the Second Style, was primarily an Italic development. Of course, the real architectural vistas represented in these paintings may still have originated in the eastern Hellenistic world; but even within the limits of the eastern Mediterranean it is not possible to sort out in detail the contributions of different regions to the overall development of the type of ornament under discussion. The most that can be said is that the forerunners of both the First and Second Pompeian Styles appear among the preserved examples of Greek wall decoration both in the Aegean and in Alexandria. It seems likely, too, that Alexandrian models were the chief vehicle by which styles of decoration developed in the eastern Mediterranean were transmitted to the regions west of the Adriatic.

From the point of view of the interior decorator, the Second Style freed the designer from the physical limitations inherent even in relief ornament, while also permitting more elaborate vistas and perspectives than could be attempted in relief-work. Unfortunately, the freedom enjoyed by wall painters makes it impossible to tell whether they are reproducing the forms of ‘real’ architecture or simply giving rein to their imagination. Nevertheless, there seems to be no doubt that some of the elaborate colouristic effects of painted architecture in houses had ‘real’ parallels in the ornamental details of Ptolemaic palace architecture, for example, as recorded in the pages of Athenaeus, while others, such as columns entwined with garlands or vines, are painted versions of real columns decorated with real (not simply carved or painted) garlands and vines. Of course, as soon as painted imitations are established as part of the decorative repertoire, they may become increasingly remote from the original ‘real-life’ models, that is, they become more and more part of the history of Hellenistic painting, rather than of Hellenistic architecture. Such evidence as is available further suggests that the ornamental schemes of residential architecture in the Hellenistic East were based on a much sharper distinction between plane wall surfaces and the columnar orders (at least in interiors) then we find in Campania, where the painted architecture was intended to transform solid planes into an illusion of three-dimensional space. At least in Ptolemaic work, plane surfaces might be built of different coloured stones, or panelled in rich woods, or even in ivory; examples of all these types of treatment, as already noted, are found in the description of the Thalamegos. Those who could not afford, or did not wish, real polychrome stonework or panelling, could have some at least of the effects reproduced in painted panels; and in fact some painted panelling must have been intended to simulate wood rather than stone. In all known cases, however, the walls retain their integrity as solid planes. Alexandrian tombs, reproducing on a small scale the interior forms of domestic architecture, perhaps suggest that in houses interior orders were more commonly used as free-

Residential Architecture standing members within, and distinct from, the surrounding walls, whether of peristyle courts or of halls.132 The distinction between wall surfaces and columnar elements is also found in such real examples of residential architecture as the interior of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya (figs. 341–2), which we have already mentioned in other contexts. We may now consider this building in more detail, as probably the best extant illustration of the nature of upper-class houses in Alexandria.133 The dates of the Palazzo, and of the ‘Roman Villa’ several blocks further west along the same street in Ptolemais, have been disputed; but scholars generally agree that the plan and decoration of these two complexes reflect the residential architecture of the crowded metropolis of Ptolemaic Alexandria, where, as later in Rome, the spacious plan of the rural or suburban villa had to be adapted to the restrictions of an urban setting. The original layout of the Palazzo is probably not earlier than the Augustan period; nevertheless, there is nothing Italic either in the plan or in the structural and decorative architectural forms. All such features were evidently derived from the Ptolemaic tradition of Egypt – not surprisingly, for throughout the Hellenistic period, as indeed in many other epochs, the dominant cultural and political influences in Libya were those emanating from Egypt. In fact, the sculptures that decorated the Great Peristyle of the Palazzo included works in Pharaonic as well as Ptolemaic style.134 The Corinthian capitals of the columns and pilasters used in the Great Peristyle, in the large northern oecus, and in the entrances of the small rooms flanking the southern oecus were also derived from the Alexandrian tradition.135 The false windows decorating the ground-floor wall to the north of the main entrance recall a possible similar feature in the entrance wall of the Vergina palace; but at Ptolemais the windows stand between half-columns (here Ionic), as in the Anfushy tomb at Alexandria.136 Among the more interesting aspects of the Palazzo are the general designs of the Great Peristyle and the large northern oecus. The Great Peristyle was laid out with nine spans along the eastern and western sides, but only five along

177

the northern and southern, although these sides were only slightly shorter than the other two. Not only were the end spans on the north and south appreciably wider than those on the east and west, but the central spans were more than twice the width of those that flanked them on either side. Moreover, all the northern columns, and the central pair of supports on the southern side of the court, were taller than the other columns of the peristyle. The emphatic juxtaposition of orders of unequal height on the north and south sides of the court of the Palazzo is paralleled in the entrance to the ‘basilican’ pavilion of Ptolemy II, as well as in other later Hellenistic contexts in the eastern Mediterranean, for instance, the courtyards of some Delian houses.137 This feature, as already suggested, may have been another innovation of Ptolemaic architects that was subsequently copied elsewhere in the Hellenistic world; for the earliest known examples generally have Alexandrian associations. The design of the large northern oecus of the Palazzo was also clearly Alexandrian in origin. Its interior peristyle recalls a prominent feature of the large saloons of the Thalamegos of Ptolemy IV.138 As Lyttleton remarks,139 internal peristyles enhanced the monumental appearance of the larger rooms of residential buildings; yet they also had practical functions. In the great pavilion of Ptolemy II, the surrounding portico provided space for the retinues of the guests, while the intercolumnar spaces of the central nave contained paintings, with a series of gold and silver shields hanging above them. In Ptolemaic palaces, the intercolumnar spaces of large dining halls doubtless had similar ornamentation, while the surrounding walkway could have been used for the circulation of servants, as well as for the retinues of guests.140 Even in smaller rooms, such as the north oecus of the Palazzo delle Colonne, the surrounding aisles could have been used by attendants waiting on the diners; but the intercolumnar spaces would presumably have been decorated more simply, if at all. It is thought that above the aisles of the north oecus of the Palazzo there were open roof-walks, surrounding a clerestory above the central colonnaded area. Vitruvius notes that such walks

178

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

were a feature of Egyptian oeci ;141 and Kallixeinos’s description of the Thalagemos suggests that the central area of the great cabin may also have been provided with a ceiling raised above clerestory windows, which looked out on an open deck above the aisles. The flat roof of the clerestory could be covered with awnings, and used as an open-air dining room.142 Dining halls and large public rooms of this type in Hellenistic, and especially Ptolemaic, palace and villa architecture would be among the earliest known antecedents of Roman basilican buildings.143 It is not clear whether the zoomorphic and figured capitals of the Palazzo delle Colonne indicate that such forms were also Alexandrian or Ptolemaic in origin. Certainly some of the earliest extant Greek and Roman examples of such capitals are either Italic, for instance, at Pompeii and in the Italic temple in the Forum at Paestum, or in buildings with Italic associations, such as the Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher at Eleusis. On the other hand, the history of figured capitals in Egypt extends back into the Pharaonic period; in no other region could Hellenistic designers have found such a rich series of prototypes for this particular architectural form.144 We have seen that there is no evidence of a Seleukid tradition of palace architecture until relatively late in the Hellenistic period; and the kings of Pergamon also lived in ‘palaces’ of modest dimensions. In Macedonia, the rural palace at Vergina, though much larger than ordinary Greek private houses and very effectively located, was really an enlarged rural version of the urban palazzi of Pella. Compared with the size and splendour indicated for the royal palace complex at Alexandria, Vergina is at best a pale reflection of the luxury and magnificence of the Egyptian court; and the royal palace at Pella, despite the large area that it eventually covered, was perhaps less luxurious in character than the best Ptolemaic work. The Ptolemies inherited, and assiduously developed, a highly centralized form of government devoted to exploiting the resources of a rich and productive country; and they lavished their wealth on the design and decoration of palaces, villas, and state vessels of dazzling scale and splendour. Their luxurious creations not only won them a lasting place

in the annals of Hellenistic architectural design and decoration, but provided perhaps the main source of inspiration for the later palace architecture of Rome. As we shall see in the chapter dealing with the Hellenistic style in South Italy and Sicily, one of the most significant developments of Italic, and particularly Latin, residential architecture during the Hellenistic age was the appearance of the type of multi-family tenement building known as the insula. It is still an open question whether there were in the eastern Hellenistic world any buildings comparable with the late Republican insulae of Rome. At present no definite answer is possible; yet it seems likely that something similar must have existed in the really large cities, such as Antioch and Alexandria, and might have appeared elsewhere whenever it was necessary to house large numbers of people in a limited space, or even when owners of large tracts of land within the city walls decided to use some of their holdings for the construction of rental accommodation. Thus although the Swiss have interpreted West Gate Houses 1–2 (their ‘Palace I’) at Eretria as a phratry-house (fig. 345),145 with residences for several family units belonging to the same clan, the complex may also have evolved as an early example of a multi-family insula, dating from a period (late Classical or early Hellenistic) in which it was still possible to spread out horizontally, rather than upward in a series of superimposed storeys. Even in late Hellenistic times tenement buildings never, as far as we know, reached the stage represented by the insulae of the Imperial period at Ostia, or by the ruined structure in the angle between the Aracoeli Steps and the Victor Emmanuel Monument at Rome.146 Yet the large populations of Ptolemaic Alexandria and Seleukid Antioch must surely have required a fairly substantial pool of rental accommodation, particularly one- and two-room flats for individuals and families of limited means. Indeed, from late Classical times onward, the march of urbanization probably resulted, even in cities of modest size, in an ever-larger proportion of citydwellers living in rented accommodation rather than in private houses. No doubt much of the earliest rented accommodation was in the form

Residential Architecture of one- or two-room self-contained units around the periphery of large private houses; but by the later Hellenistic period houses with an upper storey, or storeys, might have several selfcontained flats on the upper floor(s). Neither of these arrangements would have been very different from the ‘small suites of apartments . . ., with their own front doors and suitable dining rooms and chambers,’ described by Vitruvius in his account of the accommodation provided for guests from abroad in his ‘Greek house.’ Vitruvius clearly believed that such provision was a common feature of houses in the Greek (as opposed to the Italic) world; probably then wealthy Greeks did in fact have such guest suites in their houses. Yet such suites could also have been rented out to help defray the costs of maintaining the owner’s quarters. Moreover, if contemporary experience is any guide, as the demand for rental accommodation increased, some former private houses were probably converted, with or without further subdivision, into a series of flats. This development is certainly in evidence at Pompeii, at least during the last century of that city’s history; and the demand for rental units must surely have existed in the great Hellenistic cities long before it made itself felt in the small towns of Campania. Actually, there are several extant buildings of the fourth century and later that give some idea of the nature of Hellenistic multi-unit residential blocks. The Leonidaion at Olympia (figs. 77–8, lower left), the Katagogeion at Kassope in Epirus, and the Katagogeion connected with the sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidauros (fig. 351) are all, it is true, more closely related to modern hotels than to apartment buildings.147 Yet with some modifications, and with the exterior decorative colonnade at Olympia omitted, all three structures could have been adapted to provide a series of upper-class or luxury flats or apartments. In fact, in its Roman form the Leonidaion, perhaps the earliest of the three buildings, seems to have been redesigned as a series of residences for distinguished visitors to the Games.148 In keeping with its close proximity to the Altis, the Leonidaion was embellished with an Ionic colonnade around the exterior; the overall exterior dimensions were 74.8 × 81.08 m. Entrances

179

on the north and south sides led into a central court, with twelve Doric columns on each side. Between the exterior and interior colonnades there were suites of smaller rooms on the north, east, and south sides of the court; in the west wing, which was deeper than the other three, were six large two-room suites. The materials and workmanship of the building were for the most part competent but not outstanding; for example, the walls were mudbrick on a stone socle. The whole building was extensively remodelled in Roman Imperial times. The Katagogeion at Kassope was probably built in the third quarter of the third century; it measured 33 × 30.3 m, and had a central court, 14.16 × 11.4 m, surrounded by 26 octagonal pillars with Doric capitals. On at least two, perhaps three, sides of the court there was an upper storey, reached by means of wooden ladders, and built of bricks and wood. The two storeys together contained some thirty rooms. The square Katagogeion at Epidauros was a much larger structure, measuring 76.3 m per side, although the walls were brick on a stone socle, as in the Leonidaion. There were four peristyle courts, each with ten Doric columns per side. The building was two-storeyed, with a total of at least 150 rooms in addition to the groundfloor entrances. It is interesting to note how all three of these buildings were based on the grouping of rooms around a central court – the same scheme that Greek architects employed in houses, palaces, palaistrai, prytaneia, clubhouses and heroa, and enclosed markets.149 Even more instructive are some of the buildings discovered on Delos. For example, it has been thought that the House of the Masks (figs. 357, 365) was intended for the use of visiting troops of actors who came to perform in the nearby theatre, some of whom could also have been housed in the ‘Hotellerie’ not far away.150 ˆ This theory is certainly plausible, in view of the ‘theatrical’ character of the mosaic decoration of some of the main rooms of the House of the Masks; but we may also regard the whole block from a slightly different viewpoint. Especially after the establishment of Delos as a ‘free port’ in 166 BC, a large number of residences were clearly erected, or else rebuilt, within a relatively short space of time, in the Theatre Quarter and

180

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

elsewhere;151 but we do not know whether most or all of these houses were built by, or to the order of, individuals, or whether a considerable number, often whole blocks rather than individual houses, were the result of speculative activities by wealthy contractors and merchants already established on the island. While Delian houses have in the past generally been treated on an individual basis, the detailed study and publication of the block of the House of the Comedians inevitably prompts some reconsideration of other blocks excavated and published in earlier years, especially in the light of Trumper’s ¨ recent study. The Comedians’ insula was made up of three separate houses, differing markedly from each other in size and design (fig. 363).152 Yet there seems to be no doubt that the entire block was built at one time, and that the existing division of space was part of the original plan, rather than the result of later subdividing and remodelling. Thus, even if the builder of the block (who may also have been the owner) lived in one of the three units, he must still have intended from the beginning to rent or sell at least half of the property. Indeed, if the upper floor of the House of Comedians was itself a self-contained dwelling with its own private entrance, the block consisted of at least four separate dwelling units; and the owner, if he continued to live in the block, cannot have occupied more than one-quarter to one-third of the total area. Of course, the original owner of the insula may have intended to sell or rent all four units, if he himself lived in more luxurious quarters elsewhere – perhaps not even on Delos. Returning to the House of the Masks and its surroundings, we note at once that this house actually occupies only about one-half of the total area of the block. The remainder of the insula was divided between three other units of widely differing size and plan (one of them an example of a Delian house without a courtyard) – a situation in some ways comparable with the division of the block of the Comedians. Moreover, despite the rather inferior technique of construction of the House of the Masks, the dwelling remained in use for a considerable period of time – long enough, in any event, to

require that the stucco be twice renewed. The French in fact suggest that the house was built ca. 150 BC, and was used at least until the disaster of 88 BC; in all likelihood the existing division of the insula dates from the beginning of its history, exactly as in the case of the Comedians. While the House of the Masks itself, either ca. 150 or later, may have been set aside for the use of visiting troops of actors, it is likely that the insula was constructed as a business investment. Indeed, the owner may have rented the House of the Masks directly to the Actors’ Guilds or to the Delian community, as housing for actors. The nearby ‘Hotellerie’ too may have been privately ˆ rather than publicly owned. Among the interesting features of the insula of the Masks is the fact that it and the House of the Dolphins stood on adjacent sides of an open area, or plateia, and that both had colonnades on the side toward this square.153 This arrangement is rather unusual in a residential area, even given the proximity of the theatre. It would be easy to understand, however, if the whole area of the House of the Dolphins, the insula of the Masks, and the plateia was laid out and built up at one time with a view to sale, or rental, or a combination of the two. The ancient developer may have had an eye on visiting actors as potential clients, but he would certainly not have needed to limit himself to a single category of renters. In fact, unless we assume that he himself lived in the House of the Dolphins, he clearly intended to attract clients of widely varying economic circumstances, ranging from those who could afford a house as comfortable as the House of the Dolphins, to potential buyers or renters of the smallest units in the Masks insula and the proprietors of the little self-contained shops that we find both in the Masks block and in the House of the Trident southwest of the theatre. Here again, it seems likely that the rapid growth of the resident population of Delos after 166 produced a demand for housing of the same sort as that for which we have evidence at Rome during the third and second centuries BC, and encouraged the same sort of speculative investment in housing, which was not always built to the most exacting standards.

Residential Architecture Not all eastern Mediterranean tenements will have been as large in area as the House of the Masks. Some may have been only one-quarter its size or less; others doubtless were old houses perhaps no larger than the House on the Hill, subdivided into a larger number of smaller rooms and suites; yet other types found on Delos are Trumper’s ‘Reihenh¨auser’ and houses ¨ that formed part of a complex of warehouses and shops.154 Such smaller buildings will have had a single court, perhaps without columns, or possibly only a light-shaft, or in some cases only windows. Whether any of these tenements were multi-storeyed, that is, with more than one storey above the ground floor, we do not know; certainly there is no reason to think that there were ever more than two upper storeys. The towering insulae of Imperial Rome, often 70– 100 ft high, with the most elegant examples built around a large central court, still lay in the future, to be realized only when Roman building techniques fully caught up with the ‘upward pressure’ exerted by the need to house hundreds of thousands of people within an area of no more than 20 square kms. Of course, many Roman speculators began to build high-rise tenements long before building techniques had developed to a point where such structures were safe. The emperors, from Augustus onward, waged a constant, and evidently losing, battle to control the height of these buildings; the perennial Roman shortage of rental space at reasonable prices virtually forced the authorities to turn a blind eye to violations of the building codes. Probably similar situations occurred in some of the Hellenistic capitals, though perhaps on a less serious scale than in Rome. Unfortunately, we do not have for the Hellenistic world anything approaching the detailed descriptive and juridical documentation provided by the Roman sources. Nevertheless, Delos provides further indications of the nature of multi-unit or multipurpose blocks in the cities of the eastern Hellenistic world; and it is probably only a matter of time before examples are found at other sites. Some distance to the south of the Delian theatre, and about one kilometre south of the sanctuary of Apollo, the French have explored an interesting building on the hillside overlooking Phourni

181

Bay.155 The ‘Phourni House’ is quite large, measuring some 65 m on the facade and probably covering at least 2000 m2. Moreover, the various levels were not separated vertically by the height of a full storey, nor did the structure form a single residence. Thus the courtyard of the main unit had its Eastern colonnade at a higher level than those on the other three sides (perhaps our only Greek example of a ‘split-level’ court?); and a good deal of the downhill side was given over to shops and storerooms. Whatever the purpose of the various parts of the complex – and the stuccoed altars and water basins in the main courtyard suggest the possibility of other than secular uses – the presence of ‘shops,’ storerooms, and several latrines alongside the courtyard complex indicate that the block may have served a variety of functions, apparently including other than residential; yet the presence of shops in this rather remote location is difficult to explain. Le Roy suggests that the ‘Phourni House’ was the meeting place of a guild similar to the Poseidoniasts of Berytos, but probably of Italian origin. Alternatively, the building may be compared with a situation found in Roman contexts, not only in the small taberna-insula of the capital but also in some large tenements both at Pompeii and at Ostia, in which much of the ground floor was given over to shops and streetside bars. Perhaps the Italic insulae also provide a logical interpretation of the Delian building known as the ‘Monument de Granit’ (fig. 369). In the official publication of the building, H. Gallet de Santerre favours its identification as a place of reunion for an organization such as the Poseidoniasts of Berytos;156 he suggests that the main rooms, probably large in scale, were on the upper floor, and dates the structure ca. 110–88. However, the plan of the building, when compared, for example, with such structures as the House of the Painted Vaults at Ostia,157 at least raises the possibility that the monument may have been a small residential insula of the Italic type, with at least one and perhaps two upper storeys, and with each storey divided into a series of rooms and flats. Of course, there is no reason why the building, apparently constructed toward the end of the second century, could not also have served some religious, or quasi-

182

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

religious, role;158 but it seems unlikely that it was built only, or primarily, for religious or ‘public’ functions. We have seen that Houses 1–2 in the West Gate Quarter at Eretria (fig. 345) may have housed several different families. This complex may be a special case, if the original building was correctly interpreted by the Swiss as a phratry-house, and all the families living in the later two-peristyle complex were also members of the same clan.159 Nevertheless, it is possible, even likely, that complete excavation and study of this area of late Classical and Hellenistic Eretria will eventually produce additional examples of multi-family housing, some of the units at least being incorporated into houses that were originally built as single-family dwellings (or at least single-unit, like the original House 1). Should this prove to be the case, it would presumably strengthen the evidence indicating a period of considerable prosperity and growth at Eretria between the middle of the fourth century and the Roman sack of 198 BC.160

If we have correctly interpreted some of the developments in the field of residential architecture in Hellenistic Delos and Eretria, and by inference also in large cities such as Antioch, Alexandria, and Ephesos, it is clear that Hellenistic problems and solutions in this area had much more in common with those of Imperial Rome than with the Classical world of the Aegean. As so often, the Hellenistic age emerges as the period in which architects and town planners first tried to grapple seriously with major problems that had been either unknown or else largely ignored by their Classical predecessors; without a proper understanding of the successes and failures of Hellenistic times, we cannot hope to comprehend fully the development that took place under the Roman Empire. In the overall picture of the development of residential architecture in the ancient world of Greece and Rome, Hellenistic palaces, villas, and multi-unit dwellings are far more significant than the survival in later centuries of the modest (at least in scale) singlefamily houses of Classical times.

9 The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily

In the eastern Mediterranean Hellenistic art and architecture evolved primarily in the service of the Hellenistic monarchies, especially of Pergamon, Syria, and Egypt. The grandiose design of Pergamon itself stemmed from the desire of the Attalids to transform a military stronghold into a royal capital; and the influence of Pergamene city architecture is clear in many sanctuaries and smaller cities elsewhere in western Asia Minor. The activities of Seleukid (or Seleukid-inspired) architects extended from Sardis and Didyma in western Asia Minor to Iran and Afghanistan. Ptolemaic architects, too, developed types of buildings, techniques of construction, and decorative schemes that were imitated in many regions outside Egypt. In Magna Graecia, by contrast, as R. Martin has emphasized, there were no great Hellenistic kingdoms; even the regime of Hiero II of Syracuse was in the end a relatively small enclave within Roman-dominated Sicily. As a result, the Greek cities of South Italy and Sicily produced virtually no monumental Hellenistic art and architecture comparable with that of the Eastern Kingdoms. Their greatest architectural contributions were made in the designing of new fortifications. Yet even here Martin has attributed many of the innovations to Carthaginian influence; and Carthage may also have been instrumental in bringing some Eastern architectural forms to Sicily, whence they later spread to South Italy and Rome.1 Italian scholars, too, have stressed the decline of the Greek cities of Magna Graecia after the

third century, treating the later Hellenistic flowering of Campanian art and architecture as the result of an influx of ideas and artists directly from the eastern Mediterranean, and regarding this influx as due primarily to the growing power and influence of Rome.2 Thus the most important achievements of Hellenistic Italy are considered to have been Italic or Roman rather than Greek. Except for the golden sunset of Syracuse under Hiero II, the same view could be urged for Sicily, racked first by the dictatorship of Agathokles, and later, in the second and first centuries, by the greed of Roman provincial governors. It is certainly true that the most original and creative period of Western Greek architecture fell in the sixth and earlier fifth centuries.3 During the later fifth century Sicily and Magna Graecia were overshadowed by Old Greece. In the following century the Sicilian economy suffered greatly from the grandiose schemes of conquest of Dionysos I of Syracuse; and the career of Agathokles and the renewed war with Carthage must have undone much of the good work of Timoleon. As for South Italy, the Sicilian tyrants had scarcely passed from the scene when the Tarentines called Pyrrhos of Epirus to assist them in their struggle with Rome. However, the Tarentine attempt to mount a determined resistance to further Roman expansion came much too late to affect the final outcome. The history of South Italy during the later fourth and third centuries is dominated by the relentless southward march of Roman power and influence. By the end of

184

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the third century, despite the gallantry and brilliant generalship of Hannibal, complete Roman domination of the whole western Mediterranean basin was only a matter of time. The victory of Scipio Africanus at Zama in 202 ended a period of two centuries of almost continuous warfare in one part or another of Magna Graecia and Sicily. This period witnessed considerable development in the field of fortifications and siegecraft; and the most significant contributions to this development were clearly made by Greek military engineers, or at least by engineers working in an essentially Greek context. The initial impetus no doubt came from the Carthaginians, who during the late fifth century gave the Western Greeks their first experience of large-scale rams, siege-towers, and mines; but the flowering of military architecture and siegecraft in Sicily and Magna Graecia, during the fourth and third centuries, was a Greek, not a Carthaginian, phenomenon. The engineers of Dionysios I ‘invented’ the non-torsion catapult, and later, during the siege of Motya, almost fortuitously developed the combination of wheeled siege-tower, or helepolis, and boarding-bridge, or epibathron. The torsion-powered descendants of Dionysios’s catapults, the Macedonian oxybeleis (hurling bolts) and lithoboloi (hurling stones), were destined to revolutionize siege warfare throughout the Mediterranean world for centuries to come; and epibathra attached to helepoleis greatly facilitated the occupation of stretches of wall that had been breached by rams or mines and cleared by concentrated fire from the attackers’ oxybeleis.4 Built in the third century, the Euryalos fort at Syracuse (fig. 370) and the defences of the North Gate at Selinus (fig. 371) are the most intricate of all extant examples of ancient Greek military architecture.5 Although it is clear from the technical manual of Philo of Byzantion (usually dated late in the same century),6 that outer defences of the type found at Syracuse and Selinus were quite familiar in the Eastern Kingdoms of the Hellenistic world, there are few remains east of the Adriatic comparable in scale and complexity with the two Sicilian fortresses. Moreover, Sicilian Greek designers may also have been the first to apply to military structures systems of

ornament that had originated in other branches of Greek architecture. The great battery of the Euryalos fort was adorned with lion-head waterspouts of the type long familiar on the lateral simas, or rain gutters, of Greek temples; and at Selinus the top storeys of the towers flanking the gate in the northern wall were evidently decorated with Doric triglyph-and-metope friezes. Doric friezes are also found on towers in Asia Minor, for instance, on the round towers of the Hellenistic South Gate at Perge and at Sillyon, both in Pamphylia; but these Eastern examples are at least two generations later than the towers of Selinus.7 The Syracusan and Selinuntine fortifications are also a brilliant manifestation of the application of engineering science to the problems of architecture, whether civil or military, that was among the greatest contributions of the Hellenistic West, and of Republican and Imperial Rome, to the European architectural experience. Western Greek, and especially Sicilian, developments in the art of fortification soon spread to the non-Greek areas of South Italy.8 For example, at Manduria in Apulia the middle line of fortifications, probably of the late fourth century, was provided with a deep rock-cut ditch and communicating tunnels, perhaps inspired by the earlier phases of the defences of Euryalos.9 Whether Lucanian or dating from the time of the Roman colony founded in 273, the Hellenistic walls of Paestum were also planned in a purely Greek fashion,10 again with a large ditch outside the line of the walls. A later Paestan architect also adopted the idea of decorating the top storey of the towers with architectural ornament; in this case pilasters with Phoenicio-Cypriote figured capitals supported a Doric architrave and frieze, topped by a cavetto cornice (fig. 372).11 This ornamental scheme, reminiscent in some ways of the Italic temple in the forum of Paestum (figs. 51–2), must date from the time of the Roman colony. The lofty towers of the Samnite walls of Pompeii were also designed in Hellenistic style, although they could have housed only very small pieces of artillery.12 The use of concrete vaulting in the interior, however, is purely Italic; known Hellenistic Greek systems make little use of vaulting in this manner, even in stone masonry, and certainly never employed the true arch and vault with the con-

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily sistency found in Italic and Roman work from mid-Hellenistic times onward. In fact, many Italic gateways are really Italo-Hellenistic in character, even when the plans were based upon Greek principles of design. Both in Greek and in Italic-Roman systems there seem to have been two main reasons for employing the arch and vault in the construction of major gateways, namely, to carry the screenwall and patrol-walk across a wide gateopening or gate-passage, and to provide underpinnings for a battery of defensive artillery directly above the gate-opening. In early and midHellenistic times Greek military theorists evidently preferred, for major entrances, gates of ‘courtyard’ plan, whether of ‘overlapping’ or ‘recessed’ type; ‘corridor-gates’ of the type found at Pompeii and in the East Gate and Porta Marina at Paestum, are much less common.13 In the two former types of courtyard gate, defensive artillery was normally mounted in the flanking towers; and vaulted gate-passages were rarely necessary. In the recessed type of gate the lintel and screenwall above the gate-opening at the back of the court could easily be supported by a central pier, as in the Arcadian Gate at Messene; the overlap gate was intended to trap the attackers in the open cul-de-sac of the court, where they would be exposed to fire from the flanking walls on either side. During the later second and first centuries gateways became much more compact and heavily defended. The corridor-gates of Pompeii and Paestum and gates in the Sullan circuit of Ostia are good examples.14 In the Pompeian and Paestan gates flanking towers were not really necessary; for the flanking walls of the gate-corridor were massive enough to support vaulted artillery platforms directly above the gate-passage. Similar plans had earlier been used on a large scale in the Hellenistic world east of the Aegean, as at Eretria in Euboia.15 In elevation, however, the Italic examples, with their skilful use of stone and concrete vaulting, seem to have owed little or nothing to the eastern Mediterranean; rather, they are developments of Western systems such as the North Gate of Selinus, stripped of outworks, and perhaps also of ditch, and with defensive artillery concentrated above the actual gate-

185

passage and in the immediately adjacent towers or curtains. Roman engineers, long accustomed to their own agger et fossa (earth-rampart-and-ditch) defences, doubtless found the compactness of late Hellenistic systems very congenial; of course, an earthen rampart faced with a thick stone wall provided an excellent platform for artillery mounted well above ground level. Artillery chambers opening toward the field could also be placed below the level of the patrol-walk. Chambers of this type were added, probably in the early first century BC, to the earlier Republican walls of Rome (fig. 373).16 From the third century onward, even smaller Italic and Roman gateways (e.g., S. Maria di Falleri, Ferentinum) were frequently arched; in such cases the arch and vault were used as much for aesthetic as for practical reasons. While similar effects are sometimes found in Hellenistic architecture east of the Adriatic, they are still rare in comparison with the abundance of examples from Italy. Indeed, in view of the presence of Roman architects such as Cossutius in the eastern Mediterranean from the second quarter of the second century onward, it is likely that some later Hellenistic uses of the arch, such as the vaulted passages in the Letoon theatre at Xanthos (fig. 63), may have been due to the influence of Italic designers.17 The conspicuous, and aesthetically effective, arches at the northern and southern ends of the inner aisle of the main floor of the Stoa of Attalos at Athens may also owe something to Italic or Roman models (fig. 175); for Pergamon had close ties with Rome for at least a generation before the construction of the new Athenian building. The blind arcade of the retaining wall behind the Stoa of Eumenes, on the south side of the Athenian acropolis, is also in its present state strongly reminiscent of Roman work; indeed, some scholars wished to date the structure to the Roman period. Once more, the ‘Roman’ aspects of the Athenian building could perhaps have been due to the influence of Roman designers working in the eastern Mediterranean.18 It seems clear that the Western Greeks had made important contributions to the development of Greek town planning from early Archaic

186

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

times onward.19 By the beginning of the fifth century, carefully organized town planning had probably become a familiar feature of the Greek urban experience in Sicily and Magna Graecia. Yet in one important respect the Western Greek cities, both in Archaic and Classical times and in the Hellenistic period, differed from the new urban creations of the Eastern Hellenistic world. The vast majority of Western Greek cities were either city-states of Classical Greek type, or else offshoots of one or other of the larger Western Greek settlements, from whose control they were likely to escape whenever for any reason the fortunes of the mother-city declined. Thus there is no real parallel west of the Adriatic to the extensive series of new settlements, founded as part of a long-range overall plan, that we encounter in the Hellenistic kingdoms of Macedonia and Syria, and to a lesser degree in Egypt and the territories of Pergamon. In town planning as elsewhere, the absence of a ‘royal’ culture and civilization in the Hellenistic West resulted in a situation very different from that prevailing in the eastern Mediterranean. New ventures in town planning in the Greek West were generally devoid of the grandiose sanctuary, theatre, and agora complexes that are such a striking feature of Pergamon itself and of towns of Pergamene inspiration elsewhere in western Asia Minor, for instance, at Assos and Aigai. In the West there were few projects comparable with the new Artemision at Sardis and the new Didymaion, the embellishment of the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace, the Olympieion and the Stoas of Attalos and Eumenes at Athens, the Bouleuterion at Miletos, and Lysimachos’s extensive replanning and redevelopment of the city of Ephesos. Projects such as these were generally the result of direct patronage of one or another of the Eastern Hellenistic kings. In the West, whether in Greek foundations such as Tyndaris in the earlier fourth century, in the remodelling of older cities such as Velia, or in the more or less complete hellenization of earlier native settlements such as Morgantina in Sicily,20 the main thrust of Greek urbanism aimed at providing improved defences and housing and adequate public facilities (agora, market-buildings,

theatres, and baths) with a maximum of efficiency and a minimum of cost. Western Greek town planners seldom, if ever, tried to rival the architectural showpieces of the Eastern Hellenistic world. Nevertheless, throughout the Classical and Hellenistic periods Greek theories of town planning clearly made a significant contribution to the development of urbanism in the non-Greek as well as the Greek West; and much of the Greek influence in non-Greek Italy came through Magna Graecia, rather than directly from east of the Adriatic. Some Greek architectural influences certainly seem to have reached Rome and Italy more or less directly from the eastern Mediterranean;21 for example, the type of polygonal masonry found at Velia was apparently a direct import from the Aegean world, and does not occur elsewhere either in Sicily and Magna Graecia or in the Italic sphere.22 Yet it has also been argued that the architects of Magna Graecia were responsible for the creation of a ‘Western Ionic’ koine that was both original in character and very influential in non-Greek Italy.23 Even if the Tuscan capital was inspired by Doric wooden capitals of the type shown on vases of the sixth century from the Aegean, the Tuscan base is thought to have been derived from the Ionic tradition; and the main source of the Etruscan knowledge of Ionic was surely Magna Graecia. Thus an early terracotta casing for the top of a wooden column (fig. 374), found in the Forum Boarium at Rome, has Ionic flutes and a necking ornament related to the necking of the Doric capitals of Hera I and the Athenaion at Paestum.24 These features of Paestan Doric were clearly due to the influence of the Ionic order; indeed, Ionic columns were actually used in the pronaos of the Athenaion. Such thoroughgoing mixtures of Doric and Ionic are one of the more original features of Western Greek Doric; among the most striking Classical examples is the DoricIonic facade of the shrine shown on a Locrian terracotta plaque.25 Later, in the Hellenistic period, the tradition of figured capitals, whether Ionic, Corinthian, or Corinthianizing, was probably imported into Italy from Ptolemaic Egypt through Tarentum, and transmitted by way of the Magna Graecia cities to non-Greek contexts

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily (e.g., the Italic temple in the forum at Paestum, figs. 51–2, and the examples from Pompeii).26 Boethius further believed that Etruscan and Roman arched construction was not an indigenous Italic development, but was due to Greek influence.27 Yet if the arched gate at Velia, the Porta Rosa (fig. 90), was built as early as the midfourth century, it was probably slightly earlier than the first known examples of such gates east of the Adriatic.28 Thus if the source of inspiration for Italic examples was in fact Greek, that source must have been in Magna Graecia or Sicily. In view of the existence of a flourishing and original school of Western Greek architecture, the influence of which clearly extended into Rome and Etruria, there is no reason to doubt that the influence of Greek town planning in non-Greek Italy also came mainly through the Greek cities of Magna Graecia and Sicily. Orthogonal planning was evidently known both in Central Italy and in Western Greek cities long before the time of Hippodamos of Miletos,29 and the Western Greek examples, whether Archaic or later, are the obvious source of inspiration for those outside the Greek sphere. Greek geometry clearly had a considerable influence on the development of the Roman practices of limitatio and centuriatio, used for the sub-division of agricultural lands.30 The influence of Western Greek planning is perhaps evident even at Cosa, and is quite clear in Oscan and Samnite Pompeii and at Monte Sannace and Egnatia in Apulia.31 The beginning of monumental developments in the Forum Romanum at Rome during the fourth century was also doubtless due to the influence of Greek agoras, almost certainly those of Magna Graecia and Sicily; and as late as the first century BC Cicero contrasts the regular town planning of Capua in Campania with the narrow and irregular streets of Rome.32 The development of a Graeco-Italic koine in urbanism has been rightly compared with the development from oppidum to polis in southern France under the influence of such Greek centres as Massalia.33 An earlier chapter of this study dealt in detail with the development of monumental tombs and tomb facades in late Classical and Hellenistic times.34 As noted there, this development affects

187

not only the earlier tumulus, or earth-mound, tombs of northern Greece, Macedonia, and Asia Minor, but also free-standing tombs and rockcut facades in Asia Minor. The Etruscans had brought with them to the western Mediterranean the tradition of both tumulus and rockcut tombs, the type used at each site depending largely on the nature of the terrain and the qualities of the local beds of stone. The tumulus tomb evidently spread from Etruria to Latium, if we may judge from the passages in Virgil’s Aeneid (referring to the tomb mound of the Latin king Dercennus) and in Dionysios of Halikarnassos (dealing with the supposed tomb monument of Aeneas himself).35 In late Republican and early Imperial times, the archaizing and eclectic spirit of the age, found also in sculpture, led to the revival of the tumulus tomb; the Mausolea of Augustus and Hadrian were monumental combinations of the earth mound with the built structure of concrete. Free-standing tombs built above ground in masonry, without a tumulus, were apparently not part of the native Etruscan tradition. This type of structure, at least in its eastern Mediterranean form, seems to have reached the West at a later date from Asia Minor, evidently by a roundabout route leading via Syria, the North African littoral, and Carthage, to Sicily. Rockcut tomb facades, decked out with Greek architectural forms of the type found in Asia Minor, were also a fairly late development in the West. Among the monuments in Etruria and Apulia, the oldest examples are probably those at Canosa (Canusium) in Apulia, dating from the first third or so of the third century.36 The ultimate source of such designs is uncertain. We shall see below that the wooden stagehouses of Magna Graecia were decorated with two tiers of columns, crowned by a pediment, perhaps as early as ca. 300. Thus both the rock-cut facades of Canosa and built facades elsewhere could have been inspired by the theatre architecture of Magna Graecia. The hypogeum form of the Canosa tombs, however, perhaps suggests the influence of Alexandrian hypogea; and the Apulian versions have the same sort of provincial appearance as comparable facades at Cyrene in Libya.37 In view of the connections of Tarentum

188

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

with Egypt and North Africa, the architectural ornament of the facades of Tarentine naiskostombs, as well as the engaged Doric columns and coffered ceilings of the interiors, may also have been due to Ptolemaic influence.38 The Doric ‘temple-tomb’ facades of Hellenistic Etruria were probably based on the forms of Western Greek temple architecture of earlier centuries; but the figured capitals of the facade of the Tomba Ildebranda at Sovana seem to have reached Etruria by way of Tarentum and Campania. Moreover, while many late Etruscan facades show a Western Greek or Italic style, the overall design of the Ildebranda tomb (fig. 376) seems to derive from Anatolian mausolea.39 Even in Archaic times large stone sarcophagi, in the form of a naiskos complete with architectural ornament, are known in East Greece.40 During the second half of the fourth century monumental marble examples, sometimes with elegant columnar ornament and figure sculpture, are found in the royal cemetery at Sidon in Phoenicia, for instance, the Sarcophagus of the Mourning Women (fig. 186) and the Alexander Sarcophagus, both now in the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul. The sarcophagus with architectural ornament also occurs in Hellenistic times at Tarentum, and Ionic pilasters appear on the elegant third-century sarcophagus of P. Cornelius Scatola, from the V. Cristoforo Colombo outside the Aurelian Wall of Rome;41 the mixed Doric-Ionic ornament of the sarcophagus of P. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus, consul in 298, from the Tomb of the Scipios on a cross street between the Viae Appia and Latina in southeastern Rome (fig. 377), was probably carved in the late second century, at the same time as the late Hellenistic facade of the tomb with its decoration of half-columns.42 It has been vigorously argued that the relief panels long known as the Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus actually decorated the upper storey of a tomb monument commemorating C. Lutatius Catulus, victor in the naval battle of the Aegates Islands that brought an end to the First Punic War.43 In any event, the tomb of Bibulus, built in the first half of the of the first century BC at the point where steps now lead up to the Monument of Victor Emmanuel (fig. 378), was certainly an example of this form of tomb; the upper

storey seems to have had the form of a miniature temple, with the cella walls adorned with Tuscan pilasters and an engaged entablature.44 Here again, Magna Graecia and Sicily probably provided the actual models used by Roman designers; the ‘Tomb of Theron’ at Akragas is a Sicilian version of the same idea (fig. 229), dating from the earlier first century BC, and modified through the influence of the Syrian tower-tomb that came to the western Mediterranean by way of Carthage. In the second and first centuries many Greek forms and ideas reached Italy and the West more or less directly from the eastern Mediterranean. The seaports of Campania were probably the main entry points in Italy; Provence was subject to such influence directly through Massalia and the Greek cities of the French Riviera, as well as second-hand from Italy and Rome. The monument of the Julii at St-R´emy (Glanum) and the elegant Augustan mausoleum at Aquileia in northern Italy seem to owe nothing to southern Italian or Sicilian Greek models;45 those elements that are not obviously Roman were clearly derived from a line of monuments in the eastern Mediterranean that commences with the Monument of Lysikrates at Athens. The ‘Rundbau’ at Ephesos, once thought to belong to the second century, is now regarded as a work of the Augustan period, although the exterior form and ornament are still clearly Hellenistic in conception. The ‘Troph´ee des Alpes’ at La Turbie is a more monumental, and more Roman, version of the theme;46 and the same ideas were used in the second century AD in the victory monument of Trajan at Adamclisi in Romania. In fact, by the first century BC Italo-Hellenistic commemorative monuments were already purely Italic or Roman in the material and techniques of construction. In later times, the mausolea known as ‘Le Carceri Vecchie’ and ‘La Conocchia,’ near Capua, and the tomb beside the Via Celle near Pozzuoli, all of the second century AD,47 are completely un-Greek in appearance, even though almost all the decorative elements are Hellenistic in origin. Even in the late Hellenistic period, Italo-Hellenistic architectural ornament was executed in a manner that has no real parallels in the Eastern Hellenistic tradition.

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily A similar course of development can be traced in the theatre buildings of Italy and Sicily. The theatre at Syracuse, whatever its original form,48 evidently followed traditions of theatre architecture and practices of theatre production originating in the Aegean world. Even in the Italo-Hellenistic theatre at Segesta49 (earlier second century? or early first century?), the high proskenion-stage was derived from theatres east of the Adriatic (figs. 258–9). However, the tiered columnar decoration on the facade of the Segesta stagehouse, whether single- or two-storeyed, reflects a long-established Western Greek tradition that was hardly known in the Aegean and Asia Minor before the Roman period.50 Representations on South Italian vases of phlyakes burlesques and scenes from tragedy show that at least from the fourth century onward many South Italian Greek theatres were provided with low stages supported on wooden posts and joists. At the back of the stage, extensive use was evidently made of both real wooden architecture and painted architectural backdrops.51 The stagehouse with elaborate architectural facade (the scaenae frons of the Roman tradition), shown on the South Italian terracotta plaque now in Naples (fig. 234), is usually dated ca. 300.52 It was this South Italian tradition of theatre architecture that inspired the scaenae frons at Segesta; in the third century it was also imported from South Italy to Rome by the playwrights, whether Greek or Italic, who laid the foundations of Roman dramatic poetry by translating Greek plays into Latin. Rome had already inherited from Etruria highly developed techniques of wooden construction. These techniques had been used both in Etruria and at Rome for the construction of public performance areas and stands for spectators;53 thus Roman designers readily adapted to their own needs the wooden stagehouses of the South Italian tradition. Conservative Romans, such as Cato the Censor, regarded the world of the theatre with deep suspicion; it was their influence that for so long limited theatre construction in Rome itself to temporary buildings, until Pompey introduced a permanent theatre in 55 BC, in the guise of a Roman theatretemple of monumental proportions.

189

It seems likely that this long history of wooden construction was not without its own special advantages. Wooden theatres and amphitheatres were temporary structures, so that there was little point in scarping a hillside to the desired shape for the cavea, or auditorium, if the seats for the spectators could just as easily be built on level ground. Thus Livy refers to a stagehouse and seats built in 179 near the temple of Apollo in the southern Campus Martius, that is, on or near the site of the later theatre of Marcellus.54 In 154, on the other hand, a permanent stone auditorium was apparently to be included in a theatre to be built against the southwestern slopes of the Palatine Hill, after the Greek fashion.55 Probably the construction of wooden auditoria not only served to reinforce Roman skills in supporting large superstructures on wooden underpinnings, but also encouraged the practice of suspending the rising tiers of seats on radiating lines of vertical posts; these posts increased in height toward the exterior, and were linked by tiers of joists above the radiating passages. Translated into stone and concrete vaulting, this network of radiating walls and passages, intersected by a series of ring corridors, became the standard form for many of the theatres, amphitheatres, stadia, and circuses of the late Republic and the Empire. In the temporary wooden auditoria the outer ends of the radiating passages were doubtless framed by wooden columns and entablatures, and the scaenae frons also carried lavish columnar ornament. In later buildings the intercolumnar spaces of the scaenae frons, and probably also of the openings in the upper levels of the perimeter, were filled with statues. In Campania and South Italy, the earlier wooden theatres were replaced by permanent structures in stone at least as early as the second century. Indeed, some Western Greek theatres must have had stone seats, whether built or rock-cut, as early as the fourth century (the period when stone auditoria began to appear in the theatres of Old Greece). These stone auditoria were supported in Greek fashion on the slopes of a hill. The same type of construction is found in the second-century theatre at Pompeii, and also in many later provincial theatres such as those of Lyon (Lugdunum) and Orange (Arausio). How-

190

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

ever, the large peristyle behind the stagehouse at Pompeii, perhaps originally used as a palaestra (fig. 379), seems to have been a South Italian innovation for which there are no Eastern Hellenistic parallels. Such peristyles are recommended as normal practice by Vitruvius;56 in his day the peristyle of the theatre of Pompey had already provided the model, and the same feature was found in the theatre of Balbus at Rome and in the theatre at Ostia.57 The theatre at Pompeii is also Italic in having a semicircular cavea, or auditorium, instead of following the Greek tradition, in which an extra section of seats (cuneus, or ‘wedge,’ in Latin) extended beyond the diameter of the semicircle on either side. The semicircular cavea was probably another feature derived from the theatre architecture of Magna Graecia; for tower-like paraskenia, or wings, apparently shown in summary form on the terracotta plaque in Naples,58 and probably to be restored in the stagehouse at Segesta, would have obscured the view of the stage for spectators in any cunei that extended beyond the semicircle, unless the stagehouse was set well away from the auditorium. In South Italy the auditoria of theatres seem generally to have been a good deal smaller, and the width of the stagehouses proportionately greater, than is the case in the theatres at Athens, Epidauros, and Megalopolis in Old Greece; and stagehouse and cavea were more of a close-knit architectural unit. These characteristics definitely encouraged the adoption of a semicircular form for the cavea. The original stagehouse of Pompeii was probably adorned with a columnar facade, whether in wood or stone. Much of the existing remains belongs to a reconstruction after the earthquake of AD 63; but the low Roman stage was at least as old as the early years of the Sullan colony, founded ca. 80 BC, and further modifications were carried out in the time of Augustus, at the expense of the Holconius family.59 We learn from Plutarch that Pompey was greatly impressed by the theatre at Mytilene on Lesbos, of which he had a model made, to be used in planning the larger structure that he proposed to build at Rome.60 Yet it is difficult to identify any Greek elements among the known features of his new theatre in the Campus Mar-

tius, whether in materials and techniques of construction or in plan and decoration. It may be that Pompey admired the Lesbian theatre chiefly for the compactness and regularity of its plan, the harmony of its proportions, and the columnar ornament of the front wall of the proskenionstage. In any event, from the middle of the first century BC onward, the history of theatre design and construction in the Latin West belongs to the study of Roman rather than Hellenistic architecture, despite the Italo-Hellenistic origin of most of the decorative elements. The decade that saw the construction of Pompey’s permanent theatre also witnessed the final extravagances of the old Roman tradition of temporary theatre buildings. According to the Elder Pliny, the temporary theatre built by M. Aemilius Scaurus, during his aedileship in 58, could accommodate 80,000 spectators;61 since the capacity of Pompey’s theatre is given by Pliny as 40,000, when in fact it had only about 10,000 seats, the theatre of Scaurus perhaps seated at most 15–20,000 spectators. The number of bronze statues in the intercolumnar spaces of the scaenae frons is given as 3000; even if this number, too, is an exaggeration, it is clear that a very large number of statues, perhaps as many as 200, could have been mounted in the intervals between the tiers of columns that decorated the walls at the back of the stage. Two statues in each intercolumniation of the superimposed galleries around the perimeter of the cavea could have accounted for another 300– 400 more. The theatre of Scaurus may therefore have been decorated with a total of some 500–600 sculptured figures. Pliny says that Scaurus’s stagehouse was the ‘first structure to have marble walls, whether of veneer or of solid blocks’; the wall was divided into three storeys, the lowest of marble, the second faced with glass mosaic, the third with gilded plates. Presumably the ornamental columns were also arranged in at least three tiers. Thus the decorative scheme used in later stone and concrete buildings was already fully developed in wooden prototypes, and was essentially Italo-Hellenistic in origin. In the eastern Mediterranean, a low ‘stage,’ with columnar ornament at the back, has been

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily thought (probably wrongly) to have been reproduced in a tomb of the third century in the Mustafa Pasha cemetery at Alexandria in Egypt (figs. 222–3);62 and two-storey facades, recalling the proskenion and skene of Hellenistic stagehouses, occur in monuments such as the Archokrateion at Lindos on Rhodes (fig. 212).63 A facade of decorative Corinthian columns had also been used in the Laodike Building at Miletos.64 In theatre architecture, however, the scaenae frons decorated with tiers of columns, whether free-standing or engaged, was evidently an innovation of the wooden theatres of the Greek cities of South Italy. The two-tiered scheme, crowned by a pediment, is shown in the terracotta plaque in Naples, which may be of early Hellenistic date (fig. 234); the Hellenistic stagehouse at Segesta, as usually restored (fig. 259) was a more elaborate of version of the same design. The Naples model, if actually as early as ca. 300, must be almost contemporary with the facade of the Lefkadhia Great Tomb in Macedonia (fig. 218). It is therefore possible that both Macedonian tomb facades, and the scenographic designs of the Archokrateion at Lindos and of tombs at Alexandria and Cyrene, as well as the tomb facades at Canosa in Apulia mentioned earlier, were in some measure inspired by stagehouses, whether South Italian or Aegean. In any event, there is certainly no reason to look beyond Greek Italy for the prototypes of the elaborate stagehouses of the theatres of Scaurus, Pompey, and Marcellus at Rome. In the Roman world, engineering and architecture were much more closely associated than had been the case in the Hellenistic East, where very few engineers seem to have been active as architects.65 This difference may have been strikingly illustrated in the story of the theatre erected in 52 BC by C. Scribonius Curio, in connection with his father’s funeral.66 Curio’s engineers allegedly built two large wooden theatres, probably side by side but facing in opposite directions. Both buildings are said to have been mounted on revolving pivots; with the spectators remaining in their seats, so we are told, the two auditoria could be rotated on the pivots so that the two semicircular orchestras formed

191

a single (probably oval) arena, which was then used for gladiatorial combats. Presumably the stagehouses were scaenae ductiles, which could be pushed out of the way of the rotating auditoria; moreover, a total area a good deal larger than that of the two theatres combined would have been required for the rotation process. Thus, when the mechanism ceased to function, the whole complex was left in the form of an amphitheatre, with the ‘surplus’ area free for new building.67 Curio’s tour de force, if correctly reported, may have embodied the basic ideas both of Imperial amphitheatres such as the Colosseum and of the revolving banquet hall in Nero’s Golden House, which according to Suetonius rotated constantly night and day.68 Although we do not know how these revolving mechanisms could have been powered, or how the drive could have been transmitted to the pivots on which Curio’s theatres rotated, it is perhaps rash to dismiss the ancient account as a total fabrication. It may be that the whole mechanism described by the Elder Pliny was a gigantic version of the intricate gearing discovered in the astronomical calculator recovered from the Antikythera wreck, and now preserved in the National Museum at Athens.69 Brief mention must be made at this point of Roman odea of the type that we first encounter in the theatrum tectum, or roofed theatre, at Pompeii (fig. 379), one of a number of important structures dating from the early years of the Sullan colony. Covered buildings designed for musical performances are as old in the Greek tradition as the Odeion of Perikles at Athens. We have seen, however, that in the Periklean building, as in all Greek covered halls of any size, the roof was supported by a large number of interior columns.70 Smaller halls, such as the Old and New Bouleuteria at Athens, needed fewer columns, but had a much smaller seating capacity. Hellenistic architects, it is true, had managed to roof the council-house at Miletos, with 1200– 1500 seats, by means of long-span wooden beams requiring only four interior supports. The free spans of some seventeen metres in this building are among the longest in the history of Greek architecture, and must have been achieved with

192

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the aid of some version of roof-truss. Yet Roman architects, profiting from a long tradition of wooden construction that went back to Etruscan times, developed the principle of the long-span trussed roof to a stage unequalled by Hellenistic Greek architects, except perhaps in Ptolemaic Egypt, and scarcely equalled in any other age.71 The Sullan architects of Pompeii used this technique to roof a 1500-seat auditorium without any interior supports whatever. It seems likely that the occurrence east of the Adriatic of roof spans approaching, or even equalling, that of the Pompeian structure, as in the Asklepieion ‘theatre hall’ at Messene and the Odeion of Agrippa at Athens, all postdate the Roman conquest, and were made possible by the technical progress achieved by Roman, or at least Italic, architects and engineers. In fact, long-span wooden ceilings were among the greatest achievements of the late Republic and Empire. They are found not only in buildings such as the Odeion of Agrippa in the Athenian agora,72 but also in the great Imperial administrative halls such as the Julian and Ulpian basilicas at Rome and the basilica at Augusta Treverorum (Trier) in Germany. Once more we are dealing with a type of construction that probably originated in the Hellenistic period of Italic architecture, yet evidently owed little to Eastern Hellenistic models. In fact, the council-house at Miletos may have been in part inspired by the architecture of Republican Rome; for the donor, Antiochos IV Epiphanes of Syria, spent a considerable time in Rome before his accession to the throne at Antioch, and later employed a Roman architect, Cossutius, to design the new temple of Zeus at Athens. Significantly, the first Republican basilicas at Rome, the Porcia of 184, and the basilica of M. Fulvius Nobilior and M. Aemilius Lepidus (the predecessor of the first-century Basilica Aemilia) of 179, were built in the decade immediately preceding the commencement of Antiochos’s reign, while the Basilica Sempronia was constructed on the site of the later Julia in 169. The name, general plan, and even some of the technology involved in these buildings almost certainly came to Italy from the eastern Mediterranean. Yet we should not overlook the possibility that more fully developed Italic-Roman

techniques of construction were increasingly imported into the Hellenistic East, as direct Roman intervention in the affairs of the region became more and more extensive. We shall return to these buildings later in this chapter, in connection with Italic-Roman town planning and civic architecture. First, however, we must consider the history of Roman and Italic temple design, and of the columnar orders in the Italic tradition. Here again, we find ideas drawn from many different sources, and combined to produce a distinctive Italo-Hellenistic style. The earliest builders of monumental temples in non-Greek Italy were the Etruscans, from whom many of the characteristics of later Roman and Italic temples in Central and northern Italy were derived. By late Archaic times three major types of temple plan seem firmly established in the Etruscan tradition. Facades with two columns in antis or four columns prostyle were both borrowed from Greek architecture. The second type of plan, with two rows of columns in front of a squarish cella, seems to be entirely non-Greek; such temples sometimes had a triple cella, intended to serve the cult of the Capitoline Triad of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva in Roman work, and of their Etruscan counterparts, Tinia, Uni, and Minvra, in Etruscan contexts.73 The late Archaic Capitolium at Rome (fig. 381), begun under the Etruscan Tarquins and completed near the end of the sixth century, is the largest Etruscan temple currently known to us. It is unclear whether the temple with triple cella was developed for the needs of this peculiarly Roman cult, and later transplanted to Etruria, or whether the housing of the triad in a single temple originated in Etruria; for Varro mentions an earlier temple and cult of the Capitoline Triad, the Capitolium Vetus, on the Quirinal.74 Etruscan temples seem in most cases to have stood on a fairly high podium, accessible only from in front. Thus, it was natural to confine the columns to the front of the building, and to discard the Greek monumental peristyle that presupposed ready access to the enclosing colonnade from all four sides. Nevertheless, we may already have, in the Archaic Capitolium at Rome, a third type of plan: the temple with open ‘wings’ along the sides. In this plan the rear

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily wall of the building extended beyond the line of the sidewalls of the cella (or cellas) for a distance of one intercolumnar space, and a row of free-standing columns ran along both flanks of the podium, the entablature terminating against the lateral projections of the rear wall.75 In later Roman Republican temples the plan with alae, or wings, was used in temples with a single cella as well as in those with multiple cellas. Etruscan columns and entablatures were largely adaptations of Greek models, but were built in wood until a relatively late period; when stone orders appeared, the probable source of inspiration was again the Greek tradition of South Italy and Sicily. The wooden columns must normally have been painted or stuccoed. Entablatures, and in some instances the wooden capitals as well, were sheathed with terracotta facings, or revetments (fig. 374); and further protection for columns, architraves, and frieze, and for the mudbrick walls, was provided by boldly overhanging eaves. Vitruvius recommended that the projection of the eaves on the facade should be onequarter the height of the columns, with more or less equally wide projections along the flanks; and the evidence of actual surviving buildings suggests that in some cases the lateral overhang was two metres or more.76 The gables were often filled with terracotta sculptures, and other large-scale terracotta figures were used both as acroteria and as ornaments for the ridge-pole. Both terracotta revetments and large-scale terracotta sculpture were borrowed from Greece, the artists of Archaic Corinth having been particularly active in these fields.77 The Etruscans, however, modified in accordance with their own tastes both the Greek usage of such figures and the Greek figure type. The major sculptural decoration of the Capitolium at Rome was the work of the Etruscan artist Vulca.78 Even before the middle of the sixth century the Etruscans may occasionally have placed their temples axially within an enclosed precinct. In the Poggio Casetta temple at Volsinii (Bolsena), of the early sixth century (fig. 382), and the Contrada Cella temple at Falerii (Civit`a Castellana), of the fourth century, the temple buildings were constructed against the back wall of a small and more or less square enclosure. In

193

the Greek world temple complexes of this type seem not to occur before the early Hellenistic period. At Orvieto, the enclosure of the Belvedere temple, laid out in the fifth century, is already quite large in scale (30 m wide, and at least as long); and the front of the temple platform was aligned with the rear wall of the precinct, so that the whole building projected beyond the enclosure to the northwest.79 This Etruscan tradition of placing the temple on the main axis of a rectangular precinct was later combined by the Romans with enclosing colonnades of Hellenistic type, to produce some of the most effective complexes of the later Republic. Most wooden columns employed by the Etruscans were probably variants of the modified form of Greek Doric known as Tuscan. To protect the bottom of the wooden shaft from damp, the columns were normally set on a low base, no doubt inspired by the Ionic bases of Magna Graecia. Tuscan capitals were obviously based on Doric designs; R. Martin believed that the Greek prototypes were Doric capitals in wood, of the type known from Greek vase paintings of the sixth century.80 The Etruscan version of Doric in stone seems to be unknown before the late fourth to third centuries, when it appears in the facades of the ‘temple-tombs’ at Norchia.81 These ‘late Doric’ columns were actually an adaptation of the cigar-shaped columns of the Archaic temples at Paestum; and South Italian Greek influence can be seen in the plan as well as the order of the Doric temple in the Foro Triangolare at Pompeii, even if this building was actually erected during the period of Etruscan domination in Campania.82 The Ionic order was very rarely used in Etruria before the Hellenistic period; and examples of Corinthian and figured capitals all seem to be of Hellenistic date. This situation is not surprising, since none of these types of capital was readily adaptable to carving in wood. Of course, by the time stone capitals became common, the dominant influences in Central Italy were Hellenistic. At least from the sixth century onward, Etruscan forms and Etruscan influence prevailed in the temple architecture of regal and early Republican Rome; and the Etruscan podium and

194

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

Etruscan plans always remained the norm for Roman architects. Yet as Rome came more and more into direct contact with the Greek culture of South Italy, the old traditions derived from Etruria were progressively modified. We have already noticed the terracotta casing of the top of the shaft and capital of a wooden column found in the Forum Boarium at Rome, in which Ionic flutes are combined with a necking ornament closely related to the Archaic Doric capitals at Paestum (fig. 374). This terracotta casing seems to be at least as early as the fifth century. Not later than ca. 300 the Romans began to build temples with stone columns and entablatures, for instance, Temple C in the Largo Argentina at Rome.83 The use of stone columns was doubtless inspired primarily by Etruscan practice, but the possibility of some direct influence of South Italian Greek models cannot be excluded. Certainly the influence of South Italian, and later of Sicilian, Greek work became much stronger from the late fourth century onward, as more and more Romans were directly exposed to the culture of the Western Greek cities. During the third century, Roman taste for Greek ornament was further intensified as a result of the transporting to Rome, as spoils of war, of the treasures of captured Greek cities, such as Tarentum, in 272, and Syracuse, in 212. Thus, while the temples of the Roman colony at Cosa were still Etruscan in character, the ‘Italic temple’ in the forum at Paestum (even in in its earlier phase, dating from soon after the foundation of the Roman colony in 273) was already ItaloHellenistic in style (figs. 51–2). Similarly, the hellenization of the Osco-Samnites of Pompeii produced the Italo-Hellenistic temple of Apollo, to the west of the forum; and the Ionic and Doric temples in the Forum Holitorium at Rome also belong to the Italo-Hellenistic tradition. The marble sarcophagus of P. Cornelius Scatola, decorated with Ionic pilasters at the corners, also indicates the new Roman taste for Greek architectural ornament during the third century. After the beginning of the second century, Roman acquaintance with Greek art and architecture was no longer confined to the cities of South Italy and Sicily. Roman military commanders, and the architects on their technical staffs,

now had opportunities to study at first hand the great Classical and Hellenistic temples, temple complexes, and other buildings of the eastern Mediterranean. As a result, many new features began to appear in middle and later Republican sanctuaries at Rome; among the most important are the use of marble, the increasing popularity of round temples and Corinthian capitals, and the adornment of temple precincts with enclosing colonnades. The first marble temple at Rome, the temple of Jupiter Stator, may have been built for Q. Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus by the Greek architect Hermodoros of Salamis in Cyprus, who may also have designed the porticoes of Metellus that enclosed both this temple and the temple of Juno Regina; or Hermodoros, the first Greek architect known to have worked at Rome, may simply have rebuilt the Jupiter temple in marble ca. 135–130.84 Moreover, the career of Cossutius, designer of the Athenian Olympieion in the preceding generation, shows that some Roman architects also worked in the eastern Mediterranean. The axial location of temples within a precinct, as we have seen above, was an old Etruscan idea, probably taken over by Roman architects at a fairly early date; the adornment of the precinct with enclosing colonnades originated in the eastern Mediterranean, where the earliest examples were perhaps associated with great tomb complexes such as the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos, and were later extended to Hellenistic temple precincts.85 The use of the tholos type of structure as a temple is not definitely attested in the Greek world before the late third century; sometimes, at least, it was associated with the cult of Aphrodite, as in the tholos of Aphrodite on the upper deck of the Thalamegos, the great state barge of Ptolemy IV Philopator.86 We do not know when the round temple of Vesta in the Forum Romanum was first reconstructed in Hellenistic style; and the circular Temple B in the Largo Argentina (fig. 380), if it is correctly identified as the temple of Fortuna Huiusce Diei, can be dated to the end of the second century, that is, more than a generation later than Metellus’s temple of Jupiter Stator.87 From that time onward, circular temples are frequent in the late Republican tradi-

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily tion, as in the round temple at Tivoli, the tholos that crowned the great precinct at Praeneste, and the handsome marble temple in Attic style in the Forum Boarium at Rome.88 It is perhaps significant that most round buildings, from Argentina B and the Tivoli temple onward, were built in the Corinthian order. Corinthian was first associated with the tholos type of structure in the upper portion of the Monument of Lysikrates at Athens, dating from 334 (fig. 185); the use of Corinthian on the exterior of Greek temples is not definitely attested before the second quarter of the second century, in the temple at Uzuncaburc¸ and the Olympieion at Athens (figs. 97–103). Of course, the tholos of Aphrodite on the river-barge of Ptolemy Philopator may have been a Corinthian building inspired by some well-known Corinthian tholos of Aphrodite in Alexandria; and the tholos that crowned the great Alexandrian Pharos, or lighthouse (fig. 226), may also have had Corinthian columns.89 Any or all of these sources may have influenced the Roman choice of Corinthian as the normal order of tholoi, whether used as temples or as parts of such tomb monuments as those at Aquileia in northern Italy and Glanum in Provence. Yet Roman architects must have become acquainted with both Corinthian and figured capitals at a much earlier date. Corinthian had been used by the Tarentines from the early fourth century onward, and may be shown in the upper storey of the terracotta model in Naples (fig. 234), possibly as early as ca. 300. Tarentum was probably also the centre from which the taste for figured capitals spread throughout much of South and Central Italy.90 Examples are known at Pompeii at least from the third century onward; and we have encountered other examples in the Hellenistic Tomba Ildebranda at Sovana in Etruria (fig. 376).91 In the late second century, figured capitals supported a mixed entablature in the remodelled ‘Tempio della Pace’ (the Italic or Corinthian-Doric temple) in the forum at Paestum (fig. 52); and the Columna Minucia at Rome, as represented on coins of the late second century, perhaps had a figured Corinthian capital.92 In any event, it is clear that both Corinthian and figured capitals appealed strongly to Italo-

195

Hellenistic architects at Rome; by the late second century Corinthian was rapidly becoming the preferred order for all types of Roman building in which only a single order was required. In addition to the round temples already mentioned, Corinthian was used in the theatre-temple at Gabii (see below), built ca. 150, the temple of Jupiter Anxur at Terracina, and the temple of Castor and Pollux at Cori, both of Sullan date, and was contemplated for the rebuilt Capitolium at Rome. By Augustan times Corinthian was the normal order for temple designs, and had assumed a more or less canonical form. The models for Roman ‘normal Corinthian’ were the capitals designed by Cossutius for the Athenian Olympieion;93 it is this design that is analysed by Vitruvius. Probably the ‘canonical’ proportions of the Tuscan column were also a development of the later first century, perhaps even an innovation of Vitruvius himself, based on the columns of the Capitoline temple as rebuilt in 69 BC.94 It seems clear, too, that the design of both figured capitals and ‘mixed’ orders was more carefully and tightly organized in later Republican and Imperial work than had been the case in earlier examples. This development was initially due to the increasingly close acquaintance of late Republican architects with the mainstream of the Classical and Hellenistic Greek tradition east of the Adriatic. In the late first century an additional impetus was provided by the strongly classicizing and conservative trends of the architecture of the Augustan age. The general development in figured capitals is readily illustrated by a comparison of the capitals of the Tomba Ildebranda and the ‘Tempio della Pace’ with the Pegasus pilaster-capitals from the Temple of Mars Ultor in the Forum of Augustus at Rome (dedicated in 2 BC). Whereas the earlier examples are quite free and uncanonical, the figural elements of the Augustan capitals are strictly subordinated to the logic of Corinthian design. The history of mixed orders is rather more complex; a few examples must serve to illustrate the general development. The mixture of Ionic dentils and volute crown with Doric triglyphand-metope frieze was perhaps used on altars as early as the fifth century, to judge from an At-

196

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

tic red-figured krater found in the Harvard excavations at Samaria;95 and the sarcophagus of L. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus was decorated on the front with an almost identical design. Scipio Barbatus was consul in 298, but the sarcophagus seems to be a new piece carved in the late second century. By this time the combination of Ionic dentils and Doric frieze was not uncommon in Hellenistic stoas, as in the North Stoa of the agora at Priene; but the ornament of the Roman sarcophagus is more likely to have been derived from an altar. In any event, the design is much more clearly thought out than that of the mixed entablature of the ‘Tempio della Pace’ at Paestum. The same may be said of the combination, in the Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher at Eleusis (fig. 141), of unusual but carefully designed figured Corinthian capitals with an Ionic-Corinthian architrave and richly decorated triglyph-and-metope frieze; here both the identity of the donor and the thoroughgoing mixture of orders suggest an architect working in the Italo-Hellenistic tradition. At Rome itself there are several elegant examples of mixed orders dating from the first century. In the Republican portico in the Forum Holitorium (fig. 383), the engaged entablature above the Tuscan half-columns consists of a low two-fascia architrave surmounted by a high frieze-band; the cornice has the bold overhang inherited from Etruscan and early Republican wooden superstructures, and is decorated on the underside with modillions that had most probably originated in Ptolemaic Egypt.96 Somewhat better balanced, and more richly decorated, is the mixed order of the tomb of C. Poplicius Bibulus (fig. 378), at the northern foot of the Capitoline Hill; here the Tuscan pilasters were surmounted by a fairly high Ionic architrave and a frieze carved with sacrificial bowls, bucrania, and garlands.97 By the closing decades of the first century BC, even the purist Vitruvius accepted the combination of Corinthian columns with Doric entablature details; and the Ionic dentils (above Doric architrave and frieze) of the lower order of the Theatre of Marcellus fit neatly into the design, without being unduly conspicuous.98 As we have seen, the latter combination originated in the eastern Mediterranean.

Many Augustan buildings are replete with forms borrowed from the Classical Greek tradition. The Caryatids in the upper order flanking the colonnades of the Forum of Augustus were copied directly from the Erechtheion at Athens. G. Sangallo’s drawing of the main order of the Basilica Aemilia (rebuilt after 14 BC) shows Tuscan half-columns with a necking band perhaps inspired by the capitals of the Erechtheion;99 and the capitals above this band were clearly modeled on those of the Caryatids in the South Porch of the Athenian building. As in the portico in the Forum Holitorium, the engaged entablature of the basilica consists of a two-fascia architrave, Doric frieze (in this case with richly carved metopes), and modillioned cornice. It would be difficult to mistake any of the orders discussed in these paragraphs for Greek work; yet it is fair to say that the best examples owe much of their attractiveness to their inclusion of Classical Greek details, and to the sense of order and balance that they share with Classical Greek designs. The latter qualities were all too often lacking in Hellenistic work, whether in the West, in Egypt, in Syria, or in the Aegean world and Asia Minor. From this point of view at least, the architecture of Augustan Rome, for all its obviously Roman character, in some ways marks the culmination of the Italo-Hellenistic style. Yet the increasing popularity of Greek decorative elements and materials, imported from the eastern Mediterranean, had little effect on the overall design of Italo-Hellenistic temples, whether Roman or Italic. At Pompeii, both the Osco-Samnite temple at the north end of the Forum (built during the third quarter of the second century, and later transformed into the Capitolium of the Sullan colony),100 and the extant temple of Apollo (built ca. 120?) were EtruscoItalic in design, even though decked out with Hellenistic columnar orders; and the same is true of most of the Roman temples discussed earlier in this chapter. At the same time, the blend of some elements of Etrusco-Italic and South Italian Greek origin with others borrowed from the Hellenistic world of the eastern Mediterranean certainly justifies the designation of these buildings as Italo-Hellenistic. That the dominant factor in this development was Roman and Italic

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily rather than Greek is no basis for rejecting such a designation; we must simply recognize that within the Italo-Hellenistic tradition the Roman star grew steadily brighter while that of the Western Greeks was rapidly fading. Indeed, we may even say that in the end it was the destiny of Rome to provide in the western Mediterranean a specifically Roman equivalent of the ‘royal art’ of the Eastern Hellenistic world, the absence of which, in the view of R. Martin, meant that for a long time there was no great Western Hellenistic tradition of monumental architecture. In the field of temple architecture, the ItaloHellenistic tradition as defined above was responsible for at least two innovations in design that have no real roots in the Greek world: the theatre-temple and the temple with a prostyle porch projecting from the middle of a broad transverse cella. The Hall of the Mysteries at Eleusis (fig. 308), as well as some Sicilian Greek temples, had provided for the conduct of ceremonies and spectacles within the framework of a building that was also a temple, whether or not of conventional design; and it seems likely that some early dramatic spectacles at Athens (perhaps elsewhere as well) used a temple of Dionysos as a backdrop. It was Roman designers, however, who combined with the temple set in a rectangular colonnaded precinct a semicircular auditorium facing an orchestra and stage-building. The nearest parallels in the Greek world are arrangements such as the tiers of seats in the Lykosoura temenos in Arkadia and in the sanctuary of Demeter at Pergamon (figs. 13, 68); and the two flights of steps, with intervening landing, that led from the middle terrace to the new Doric temple on the upper terrace of the Asklepieion at Kos may have served a similar purpose (figs. 82, 407). Spectators standing or sitting on these seats, or steps, would have had an excellent view of ceremonies taking place in the open areas in front of the Arkadian, Pergamene, and Koan temples. Some of the Koan ceremonies, at least, included choral dances and recitations; but these were not really ‘dramatic’ in character, and the stairway was designed primarily as a monumental approach to the upper temple, not as an ‘auditorium’ in the normal sense of the term. At Gabii (ca. 150),

197

Praeneste (ca. 150 to Sullan; fig. 90), and Tivoli (temple of Hercules ca. 50; fig. 91), by contrast, the ‘theatrical’ character of auditorium and orchestra is unmistakable; and the theatres at Gabii and Tivoli were also provided with a stagehouse of considerable size and magnificence.101 The other important Roman innovation, the T-shaped temple plan, was obviously designed to serve the needs of specific situations. It was simply a modification of the traditional rectangular plan, but not one that would have been likely to occur to an Aegean architect. Roman designers were less bound by tradition than their Greek counterparts. Thus they regularly adapted their temples to a wide variety of settings and orientations; the plan with transverse cella and projecting central porch was an attempt to provide a spacious cella on sites that were wide and shallow in relation to the open space in front of the temple. The earliest known example of this plan seems to be the temple of Veiovis, founded in 196 in the hollow between the Arx and the Capitolium at Rome; whether or not the plan was used in the original building, it seems to have appeared in the reconstruction of ca. 150. Since the site is quite constricted, the T-plan may have been adopted in the mid-second century in order to increase the size or to change the proportions of the cella, which was further enlarged during the reconstruction attendant upon the building of the Tabularium in 78 (figs. 384a–b).102 No doubt similar considerations led to the adoption of the T-plan for the reconstruction of the temple of Concord by Tiberius, toward the end of Augustus’s reign – if indeed it had not already been adopted in the earlier building of L. Opimius in 121 (when the first concrete podium was constructed).103 At any rate, once the Tabularium had been built, the site of the temple of Concord could be extended laterally, but could not be deepened. The same plan occurs in the Flavian Capitolium at Brixia (modern Brescia) in northern Italy, which looked down over the main transverse street of the ancient city to the open area of the forum at a somewhat lower level.104 It may be that these Roman temples owed something to Greek buildings such as the South Stoa at Olympia (figs. 77–8, lower right), which had a colonnaded

198

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

‘tribunal’ projecting from the middle of the main colonnaded facade; they may also have been influenced by precincts such as those of Zeus at Megalopolis and Dodona (figs. 66, 15), in which the colonnaded porches of the temples break forward from the line of the flanking stoas into the open area of the precinct.105 Yet the fact remains that no Greek architect ever designed a temple in which monumental scale and unconventional plan were combined in the impressive manner that we encounter in the temple of Concord at Rome and the Capitolium at Brescia. As so often, these buildings are unmistakably Roman in character, despite the Greek origin of most of the decorative details employed. Many of the buildings discussed in the preceding pages made extensive use of arches and concrete, for instance, the temple of Concord, the Theatre of Marcellus, and the Sullan Tabularium at the western end of the Forum Romanum. This type of construction was the very antithesis of the normal Hellenistic style. Neither the arch nor concrete was a Roman invention; yet the combination of arches and vaults with concrete construction certainly took place within the framework of the Italo-Hellenistic style. This combination, which laid the foundation for later Roman Imperial developments, was perhaps the greatest achievement of the architecture of Hellenistic times in Italy, and one that in the end reduced the Greek columnar orders to the purely secondary role of architectural ornament. It has sometimes been suggested that the use of the arch and vault in Italy was an ‘invention’ of the Etruscans, and was later passed on to Rome, together with Etruscan wood-building techniques, Etruscan temple plans, the Tuscan column, and so forth. In fact, the well-preserved Porta Rosa at Velia (fig. 375), perhaps built soon after 350, may be earlier than any known examples of arched construction in the Etruscan or Roman sphere or, for that matter, any surviving examples in Old Greece and the Aegean. A. Orlandos has argued that arches and the arch principle were known in Greece before the end of the fifth century.106 Currently known examples, however, at least suggest another possibility: whatever their source of inspiration, it may have been the architects of Magna Graecia who

were the first in the Greek world to experiment with this architectural form, which then spread from the Greek cities northward to Campania and Etruria, and thence to Rome, without any influence from Greek architecture east of the Adriatic. Even if ‘arches . . . reached Italy as a more or less complete architectural achievement,’107 it would still be true that the influence of South Italian Greek architecture was chiefly responsible for the spread of this form northward. The Tomba del Tablino at Caere, dated to the fifth century, already shows an opening of arched shape; and a voussoir arch is represented in detail on the end of an ash urn in the Palermo Museum (fig. 385), on another from Clusium (Chiusi) dated ca. 300, and now in Florence, and on a third urn now in the Worcester, Mass., Art Museum.108 To this period or later also belong the arched gates of Volaterrae (Volterra) and Perusia (Perugia).109 On the Chiusi urn, the arch is flanked by ‘Aeolic’ pilasters supporting large lidded cauldrons; above the latter, horizontal bands suggest a derivation from the lines of a Greek or Etruscan entablature. The urn now in Worcester has been dated ca. 150, and has arches framed by an architrave between plain pilasters with Ionicizing Hellenistic capitals. Both these urns seem to be earlier than any Eastern Hellenistic examples of arches or vaults framed by pilasters and entablatures, an architectural form found in the Letoon theatre near Xanthos (fig. 63), but not popular with Greek architects, at least in the Aegean world. The Lykian example may indeed be an import from the West, where, at least in the first century, the columnar orders of such monuments as the Stoa of Attalos at Athens (fig. 175) would almost certainly have been carried in an engaged form along the short ends of the building, to provide a frame for the large arches at either end of the inner aisle of the main floor. The Roman use of free-standing arches as commemorative monuments was perhaps suggested by the columnar and pillar monuments of the Hellenistic world, such as those of Prusias, Aristaineta, and Aemilius Paullus at Delphi (figs. 19a–b), and the original Hellenistic form of the Monument of Agrippa outside the Propylaia of the Athenian Acropolis.110 Yet if

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily the earliest Roman fornices were stone structures, it is likely that they already had columnar ‘frames’; this combination is unknown in the Greek examples. The Roman series goes back to the early years of the second century;111 and here again Imperial commemorative arches, despite their Hellenistic dress, were descended from an Italo-Hellenistic rather than an Eastern Hellenistic line. Moreover, the same idea was used in arcades, perhaps as early as the mid-second century at Praeneste,112 but certainly from Sullan times onward in the Tabularium at Rome, in Pompey’s Theatre, and in the Basilica Julia and the Theatre of Marcellus. During the Hellenistic period in Italy vaulting was sometimes used in the rooms of private houses;113 this form of ceiling, however, evidently originated in Alexandria, where the evidence of rock-cut tombs suggests the use of several different forms of arcuated ceiling in the domestic architecture of the Ptolemaic period. Arches were also employed in the construction of Roman aqueducts and bridges at least from the forties of the second century.114 Here we are certainly dealing with an Italic development that owed nothing, as far as we know, to the eastern Mediterranean, although it took place within the framework of the Italo-Hellenistic style.115 The rock-cut tomb architecture of Alexandria also raises the possibility that Ptolemaic architects perhaps experimented with domed ceilings, as well as with arches and vaults.116 In Italy, domes are found at Pompeii, in the frigidaria both of the Terme Stabiane (second century) and of the Terme del Foro (second quarter of the first century). Even the mighty concrete dome of the bath building by the seashore at Baiae on the Bay of Naples is probably not later than the Augustan period.117 In fact, concrete domes seem to have been used by the Romans at an earlier date than really large crossvaults in the same material; the latter are apparently all of Imperial date.118 As noted in an earlier chapter, Vitruvius was already familiar with domed tepidaria, and with bronze discs suspended under the central opening, or oculus, in the crown of the dome; the temperature and humidity of the atmosphere could be controlled by raising or lowering this disc.119 The appearance of such features in the later first

199

century was typical of the combination of architecture and engineering that was one of Rome’s greatest achievements, owing nothing but a few decorative forms to the Hellenistic world. As I have pointed out in my Greek Fortifications, Roman structura caementicia with incertum facing had been anticipated, perhaps as early as the fourth century, in some city walls of South Italy and Sicily, as at Kaulonia and Tyndaris.120 In these examples, as was recommended by Cato ca. 160,121 the angles of the walls were reinforced with large stone quoins. Before and after ca. 200 rubble work and mortared masonry are found at Cosa,122 and Cato mentions the use of mortar as normal practice in utilitarian farm buildings. It is possible that the knowledge of mortarwork came to the Western Greeks from the Near East via Carthage; in any event, gypsum mortar had already been used in the walls of Tyre before the time of Alexander the Great.123 However, Campanian pozzolana mortar added a new dimension to ancient mortarwork, since pozzolana was readily available, and also had the property of setting under water.124 The cement vault of Upper Peirene on Acrocorinth has been dated to the third century;125 but this modest structure seems to be unique in Greece and the Aegean at this early date, and in any event had not the potential for further development that Campanian and Roman pozzolana mixtures possessed. Concrete was widely employed in Campania by the third century; and the concrete core of the Republican walls on the Aventine at Rome has been dated by G. Lugli to the time of the Second Punic War.126 As noted above, Cato refers to the use of mortarwork as routine in the period ca. 160. Pozzolana mortar was a gift of Campania to Rome, where it was familiar by the end of the second century, if not before. Concrete was used for the core of the podium of the temple of Concord in the Roman Forum ca. 120, and again, not later than ca. 100, in the great market hall, or warehouse building, southwest of the Aventine along the Lungotevere Testaccio (a structure that has been identified as the Porticus Aemilia).127 Moreover, incertum facing was used in houses outside the fourth-century castrum at Ostia; at least some of these seem to date from the third to second centuries.128

200

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

In the first century (ca. 100–50) fully developed concrete vaulting is found in combination with incertum wall facings in the complex at Praeneste, at Tivoli (in the market-hall and the temple of Hercules Victor), in the amphitheatre at Pompeii, and at Terracina and Ferentinum. Incertum facings become more regular, or ‘quasireticulate,’ in the early first century, and reticulate facings appear in the fifties in the Theatre of Pompey. Incertum was also used in domestic architecture; it was known to Vitruvius, and is actually preserved in an insula, or tenement building, in the Via dei Sanniti at Terracina, probably of the early first century.129 At Rome, quasi-reticulate is found in the Late Republican building on the south side of the Palatine and in the remains at the pre-Neronian levels of the Via Sacra; it also occurs in the first-century Republican levels of Ostia. Concrete vaulting was of course extensively used in the Tabularium in the Roman Forum. According to Boethius, the Terme del Foro at Pompeii provide the ‘most perfect specimen of a Late Republican tenement house of concrete’; these baths were built soon after the establishment of the Sullan colony in 80.130 By the later second and first century BC, pozzolana mortar and incertum facings should really be labelled ‘Late Republican Roman.’ Yet here again, the Campanian origin of pozzolana with equal certainty indicates that late Republican mortarwork should be regarded as a further development of an Italo-Hellenistic achievement; for Campania was for a long time a major centre of Hellenistic art in Italy. In the field of town planning Roman authors allege the existence of a theoretical Etruscan town plan with three gates and main streets and three temples (Jupiter, Juno, Minerva);131 but there is no actual evidence of such a practice in the Etruscan town sites known to us. Yet orthogonal planning was clearly familiar in the Archaic period among both the Western Greeks (e.g., at Paestum and Selinus) and the Etruscans (e.g., at Marzabotto and in the Crocefisso Cemetery at Orvieto). Spina on the Adriatic had a GraecoEtruscan town plan with intersecting canals instead of streets. The ‘Hippodamian’ principles of the Aegean, for instance, as introduced by Hippodamos at Thourioi in South Italy, were clearly

more in the nature of a ‘theoretical justification’ of existing practice than completely new ideas. Equally clearly, the plans of newer Roman towns such as Cosa were a mixture of Greek and Etruscan ideas, on which the Romans imposed their own order. The Romans seem to have inherited from the Etruscans the principles of limitatio (according to Varro), as well as the religious rites accompanying the foundation of new, or expanded, settlements.132 However, centuriation of lands outside the town, with regular cardines and decumani, was a Roman practice, the principles of which, together with the early Republican organization of the legions and their field operations, underlie the plan of Roman camps, the Roman fort or castrum (e.g., at Ostia after 338), and the later Roman military colonies (such as Cosa).133 This is not to say that the Romans were quite uninfluenced by Greek towns, or by Hellenized Italic plans such as those of Capua (perhaps an Etrusco-Samnite layout of 471?) and OscoSamnite Pompeii. Rather, all these various elements were combined in accordance with specifically Roman principles, producing plans that are no longer Greek, or South Italian, or Oscan, or Samnite, or Etruscan, or even a simple combination of two or more of these, but are characteristically and unmistakably Roman. Small towns, particularly hilltop towns, might still develop along less formal lines; and Rome itself was rebuilt in the old irregular manner after the Gallic destruction of the early fourth century. Even on the level site of Ostia, main streets in quarters south and west of the early castrum always retained the irregular plan inherited from the period when they were still extra-urban roads; and the same lack of formal planning is found in Augustan times at Lucus Feroniae.134 Cosa and Alba Fucens, however, are typically Roman in their order and regularity, even where the terrain is not readily adaptable to a regular street grid. The Gallic disaster of 390 had shown the Romans that their old earth ramparts were no longer adequate for the protection of the open quarters of the city from the Esquiline to the region of the Porta Collina. The conduct of siege warfare in the western Mediterranean had been

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily completely revolutionized in the late fifth and early fourth centuries by the great engines of the Carthaginians and Dionysios I of Syracuse, and by the Syracusan development of artillery and boarding-bridges. Thus high stone walls were essential for any important city that hoped to be able to withstand a determined assault. The Roman response to this new situation was typical of their genius for adapting old forms to new conditions, rather than abandoning them completely. It was probably at this time that the simple earth rampart and ditch of the Esquiline135 was rebuilt on a monumental scale; the rampart, or agger, was faced on the outside with a massive wall of tufa blocks, of which some stretches still survive, and the ditch (fossa) was widened and deepened. Other fourth-century aggeres are known at Antium and Satricum. The agger and fossa at Ardea are usually thought to predate the establishment of the Roman colony in 442; however, aggeres and fossae on the scale found at Ardea were scarcely needed before the appearance of mobile rams and siege-towers from the late fifth century onward, so that the final form of the Ardeatine agger may date from the fourth century.136 On the other hand, the earth rampart and ditch was still destined to serve the Romans well in the field-camps, or castra, of the legions. As a result of the addition of stone walls of Greek type to the old Italic agger and fossa, Roman fortifications developed along rather different lines from those of Classical and Hellenistic Greece. Rome itself was never provided with the close-set and increasingly lofty towers of Greek systems, until the wall of Aurelian was constructed in the later third century AD. Yet even Hannibal, a master of Hellenistic siege techniques (as shown in his assault on Saguntum on the eve of the Second Punic War), never thought it worthwhile to attempt a direct assault on the Roman defences. Roman commanders clearly appreciated the effectiveness of Hellenistic artillery, and were responsible for several improvements in the construction of scorpiones and catapults.137 Nevertheless, when it was thought desirable to mount catapults on the walls of Rome in the early first century, the artillery chambers were built into the main rampart, rather than being located in lofty towers

201

of Hellenistic type. Such chambers were in fact recommended by the later Hellenistic theorist Philo of Byzantion, although he does not seem to have been thinking of chambers with large arched openings toward the field, of the type preserved at the bottom of the Via S. Anselmo, on the Aventine at Rome (fig. 373). A similar combination of native and imported traditions is found in the development of Roman basilicas, or administrative halls, and marketbuildings. For us, the civil basilica (and its descendant, the basilican church of the early Christian centuries) is a typically Roman structure. Yet the word basilica is obviously Greek – a feminine adjective denoting a ‘royal’ building of some sort. It has at times been thought that the vanished noun was ‘stoa,’ that is, that the Roman civil basilica was derived from one or more buildings in the Hellenistic capitals of the eastern Mediterranean, known as ‘basilike stoa’ and perhaps connected with the royal administration. Indeed, the Hypostyle Hall at Delos (figs. 314–15), which is clearly related in plan and elevation to the Roman basilica, and also slightly earlier than the earliest basilicas in Rome, is actually described in Delian inscriptions as a stoa; and in Imperial times Cassius Dio calls the Basilica Aemilia in the Forum Romanum the ‘stoa of Paullus.’138 Yet there are no known references to a basilike stoa in Hellenistic times; and the normal Roman equivalent of stoa is porticus. On the other hand, there were certainly basilican halls in the Ptolemaic tradition of palace and residential architecture. These halls might be dining rooms, or a combination of dining room and reception hall, as was evidently the case on the Thalamegos of Ptolemy Philopator.139 Vitruvius, speaking of such halls in the houses of prominent Romans, calls them basilicas, and notes that public councils, private lawsuits and arbitration proceedings were often held in large halls in the houses of such men.140 Thus there is much to be said for the view that both the name and the form of the basilica were derived from basilikai aulai (or some other feminine noun suggesting a hall) in the palaces of Ptolemaic Egypt, where they served a variety of functions.141 Whatever the ancestry of the building, Roman architects of the second to first centuries gave

202

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

the basilica a characteristically Roman form, and used it in a characteristically Roman manner. The Basilica Porcia of 184 (west of the Curia and Comitia), the original Aemilia of 179–178, and the Sempronia of 169 (on the south side of the Forum, on part of the site of the later Julia) were all in the Forum area (fig. 386), and gave the chief public square of Republican Rome an impressiveness and monumentality it had never before possessed.142 Instead of private houses behind the tabernae, or shops (with or without galleries), that lined the sides of the open area, there were now large and imposing public halls. These new buildings were not simply a transplanting to a Roman setting of Hellenistic stoas of the type of the Stoa of Attalos at Athens; the Roman equivalent of the Athenian building was the rows of tabernae opening off roofed porticoes. From the time of C. Maenius (consul in 338) onward, the tabernae on the north side of the Forum Romanum had balconies (maeniana) above the colonnade in front of the shops; these early shops and maeniana had wooden columns and walls of mudbrick. Even after the construction of the Basilica Aemilia, the old tabernae continued in use; they were perhaps not rebuilt in stone until the basilica itself was reconstructed ca. 80– 78, and always remained quite distinct from the great building behind them (fig. 387).143 The difference between the Roman basilica and the Greek stoa becomes clear when we consider the architectural form of some of the earliest surviving examples, together with Vitruvius’s discussion of the basilica.144 Both the basilica and the stoa normally opened more or less directly into the forum or agora, and provided a sheltered promenade along one or more sides of the public square. Yet most Roman fora had only one basilica, whereas even smaller Hellenistic agoras had stoas on two (Assos), three (Aigai), or all four sides (Priene) (figs. 113, 117, 120). Moreover, the stoa always presented a long, open colonnade toward the agora; the basilica, though easily accessible from the forum, was frequently less open at the front. The Basilica Aemilia was always separated from the Forum Romanum by a portico and shops, with galleries above, and the Sempronia also stood behind a row of shops (fig. 386); the basilica at Alba Fucens was sepa-

rated from the forum by a large peristyle structure (fig. 388), from which it was in turn shut off by a solid wall with doors (and perhaps windows). At Pompeii, the basilica presented a short end toward the forum, and the interior of the building was separated from the forum colonnade by a deep vestibule (fig. 389). Vitruvius clearly thought of the basilica primarily as a sort of business exchange. Casual visitors and loungers were evidently expected to use the galleries; and the parapets of these galleries toward the nave were to be high enough to shut off persons walking at the upper levels from the view of those carrying on their business on the main floor.145 There is no real indication of provision for shops inside the basilica itself. Already in the basilicas at Pompeii (ca. 120) and Alba Fucens (ca. 100) there was a tribunal for magistrates set as far away from the forum as possible. Vitruvius himself included a tribunal in the basilica at Fanum; but he regarded it as a secondary element in the building, and placed it in such a way that ‘those appearing before the magistrates may not interfere with those conducting business in the basilica.’146 The basilicas at Ardea (fig. 390) and Cosa (fig. 391) had open colonnades toward the squares in front of them; but the Ardea building was associated with a temple, not a forum, and the nave at Cosa was probably fairly well insulated from the forum outside.147 Even the Basilica Julia at Rome, with its open arcades on three sides, had a double aisle separating the nave from the Roman Forum on the north and from the streets that flanked the building on the east and west (Vicus Tuscus and Vicus Jugarius). At least in later generations, the nave was used for sessions of the centumviral court. The Younger Pliny has left us a vivid description of one such session; again, casual spectators were clearly expected to use the galleries.148 None of the above has much in common with what we know of the use of the great Hellenistic stoas. It is true that the Roman civil basilica inherited many of the functions of the stoa. These functions, however, were also served in a fully developed forum by porticoes (frequently twostoreyed, as at Rome and Pompeii) facing the

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily square. Timgad is a good example of this type of forum from Middle Imperial times. At Corinth, the functions of the Greek stoa were in part met by the reconstructed South Stoa, in part by the Central and Northwestern Shops; neither the North nor the South Basilica was directly accessible from the agora, and the main floor of the Julian Basilica at the eastern end of the agora was shut off from the open area by a solid wall with only one door, standing at the top of a flight of steps. On the basis both of plan and (probably) of function, the Hypostyle Hall at Delos was really a basilica; but it was not located in the Delian agora. In the Hellenistic cities known to us in any detail, only the complex at Priene (comprising North Stoa, civic offices, assembly hall, and Prytaneion) parallels at all closely the administrative functions of the Roman basilica; and this complex is much more rambling and diffuse in character than any known Roman examples. One factor that contributed to the clearly defined character of the Roman basilica was certainly Roman technical skill in constructing long-span wooden ceilings. This skill, as we have seen, was in part a legacy from the Etruscans, and was further developed during the Republic; thus the Romans were able to erect large covered halls uncluttered by interior supports, on a scale beyond the capacity of the architects of the Hellenistic East. In this connection, the naves even of small basilicas, such as those at Ardea, Alba Fucens, and Pompeii, offer a striking and instructive contrast with the central area of the Hypostyle Hall at Delos. The technical skill that made the construction of these Italic halls possible was clearly an Italo-Hellenistic development that owed almost nothing to buildings east of the Adriatic; and the major contributors to this development were the architects of Republican Rome. Nevertheless, the earlier examples of Italic and Roman basilicas should still be treated as part of the Italo-Hellenistic achievement. In the first place, as noted above, the earliest basilicas in Rome itself were clearly designed to give a new monumentality to the architecture of the Forum Romanum; and the desire to achieve such an effect must have been inspired by the public

203

squares of major Greek cities, especially those of the eastern Mediterranean, with which Romans were becoming increasingly familiar. Second, both the name and the spacious interiors of early Italic basilicas were Eastern Hellenistic in origin; unfortunately, the extent of Italic and Roman indebtedness to Ptolemaic prototypes has not been widely recognized. Third, despite the importance in the history of basilican architecture of Etruscan and Italic skill and experience in wooden construction, the earliest basilicas in Italy were all clearly Hellenistic in style and decoration; thus stylistically, at least, the term ‘ItaloHellenistic’ is more appropriate than ‘Republican Roman,’ however suitable the latter may be in political and chronological terms. Roman and Italic macella, or market complexes, also seem to have followed closely the designs of Hellenistic models such as the Lower Agora at Pergamon and the Agora of the Italians on Delos (figs. 392, 393).149 The marketbuildings at Aigai and Alinda, with ‘basement’ shops and storerooms below the level of the agora (figs. 116–17, 118–19), may also be mentioned in this connection. However, Roman skill in the use of concrete vaulting again produced some impressive developments that have no parallels in the Eastern Hellenistic world. At Ferentinum two barrel-vaulted aisles, with surrounding vaulted cryptoporticus, supported the large hall surmounting the great bastion; the whole complex probably dates from the later second century.150 Even more striking is the ‘shopping centre’ incorporated in the platform of the temple of Hercules Victor at Tivoli, constructed around the middle of the first century (fig. 91). A vaulted tunnel, ca. 8.5 m wide, carried the Via Tiburtina under the northern part of the temple terrace. The tunnel was lit by rectangular skylights; on either side of the roadway were rows of barrel-vaulted shops.151 These vaulted substructures are as far removed from Hellenistic market-buildings as are those of the Traianeum at Pergamon from the solid terrace supporting the nearby temple of Athena (fig. 398). In the Eastern Hellenistic world the layout of larger houses, and even palaces, was in part derived from smaller private houses, with the chief rooms opening off a courtyard. Houses of this

204

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

type are familiar from the excavations at Olynthos; in the larger Olynthian houses, the courtyard was partly or entirely surrounded by colonnades with wooden columns. Many houses also had an upper floor, at least on the north side of the court. Already in the sixth century, however, the Etruscans had developed a tradition of spacious domestic architecture quite different from that of the Greeks.152 This tradition is preserved in modified form in the great rock-cut tombs in some of the Etruscan cemeteries. The main chambers of these tombs reproduce in a scaled-down fashion large halls with both gabled and flat ceilings; the painstaking representation of the main beams (ridge-beam, purlins, and rafters) show the pride of the Etruscan nobility in the elegant wooden ceilings of their houses and palaces. The Tomba del Tablino, and the Tombe dei Capitelli and della Cornice, in the Banditaccia cemetery at Caere, are good examples of the late sixth and the fifth centuries. The tradition of elegantly built and decorated wooden ceilings continues through the ‘Etruscan Renaissance’ of Hellenistic times, in such examples as the Tomba Giglioli and the Tomba del Cardinale, at Tarquinia, and the Tomba dell’Alcova, at Caere. Free-standing piers and columns were used in the large halls of Etruscan houses from the sixth century onward; and the arched exterior door shown on an urn from Chiusi, of ca. 300, has been mentioned earlier in this chapter (cf. fig. 385). The Tomba del Tablino, of the fifth century, already shows a typically Italic atrium with tablinum beyond, and other chambers opening off the sides.153 On plan, such tombs bear a certain resemblance to the Ptolemaic hypogea in the Mustafa Pasha cemetery at Alexandria; but the central area of the Ptolemaic tombs reproduces an unroofed peristyle court with surrounding colonnades, whereas the great Etruscan atrium (the cavum aedium tuscanicum of Vitruvius)154 was completely roofed except for a rectangular opening (compluvium) in the centre. Etruscan tombs, urns, and house models also provide illustrations both of Vitruvius’s ‘testudinate’ atrium without any roof openings, and of the atrium displuviatum, in which the roof slopes pitched outward toward the exterior walls from the compluvium, set high up on the axis of the hip-roof. In both these types of house the pro-

vision of upper-storey rooms was more easily managed than in houses in which the roof slopes pitched inward toward the central opening; Vitruvius specifically recommends the testudinate type for houses ‘where the span is not great and where large rooms are provided in the upper storeys.’155 Boethius believed that the origins of the Etruscan atrium house should be sought in the Near East. Certainly there was a highly developed tradition of wooden architecture in Phrygia during the eighth century, and this tradition was no doubt continued in Lydia, the original home of the Etruscans according to Herodotos.156 Rome later inherited the Etruscan house plan and techniques of construction; however, during the Hellenistic period Italic house architecture in Campania and Rome was strongly influenced by Greek ideas, whether received through Magna Graecia and Sicily or directly from the eastern Mediterranean. Vitruvius notes that the woodwork and the surfaces of the walls of displuviate halls were quickly spoiled by rainwater.157 Perhaps drains designed to carry off water entering through the compluvium in the roof were likely to overflow in heavy rainstorms, allowing water to run over the wooden ceilings and trickle down the painted wall surfaces. The same problems may also have been encountered with the wooden ceilings of the ‘Tuscan’ atrium. It seems clear that the purpose of the central openings and rain gutters was not only to admit light, but also to collect the rainwater in cisterns under the opening in the roof for day-to-day domestic use. In this respect the Etruscan atrium, compluvium, and cistern served the same purpose as the slightly sunken courtyards, with cisterns underneath, that we find in the Hellenistic houses of Delos, where provision of water was always a problem. In the Hellenistic period the collection of water was improved, and the appearance of the Italic atrium enhanced, by constructing a shallow collector-basin (impluvium) under the roof opening; this basin seems to be an adaptation of the slightly sunken courtyards of the Hellenistic Greek houses, and was perhaps due to the influence of the domestic architecture of the South Italian Greek cities. The earliest known

The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily extant impluvia seem to belong to the third century, and were made of terracotta or tufa. Wider and deeper atria were made possible by setting columns around the impluvium as intermediate supports for the crossbeams of the atrium. In this connection, Vitruvius mentions two types of colonnaded atria: the tetrastyle, with four columns, one at each corner of the impluvium, and the larger Corinthian, with columns all around.158 Both types are well known from examples at Pompeii and Herculaneum. The prevalence of the atrium house in Campania, where Greek influence was otherwise so strong, is something of a puzzle; probably Campanian practice was influenced first by the Etruscans, and later, from the late fourth century onward, by the Romans, who had already taken over the Etruscan atrium house. The columns in Campanian atria, as in Greek peristyle houses, were at first some form of Doric; but Corinthian columns became increasingly popular in Italo-Hellenistic houses, as in other branches of architecture from the later second century onward. During the third and second centuries, ItaloHellenistic domestic architecture was directly influenced by the styles of the eastern Mediterranean. Many impluvia were built, or rebuilt, in marble, and decorative marble well-heads (putealia) were set above the openings in the tops of the water tanks beneath the atrium. From the Elder Pliny we learn that the orator L. Crassus, ca. 100 BC, erected six columns of Hymettan marble in the atrium of his house,159 presumably in a 3 × 2 scheme around a marble impluvium. Of more lasting importance was the addition of Greek peristyle courts to the old Italic atrium house. Diodorus Siculus says that the Etruscans had added peristyles (peristoa) to their atria, as a ‘useful means of avoiding confusion in the presence of crowds of people.’160 It is possible that this statement (for which there is no known archaeological evidence) refers to Corinthian atria, with an arrangement such as that found in the 6 × 4 colonnade around the impluvium of the House of Epidius Rufus at Pompeii; for in an atrium of this type the central colonnade would have served to channel the movement of people more definitely along opposite sides of the great hall. However, Diodoros’s words may just as well re-

205

fer to an open peristyle quite separate from the atrium. The Villa dei Misteri at Pompeii (fig. 340) has a spacious 6 × 4 peristyle court between the entrance and the atrium-tablinum complex beyond, which was thus removed from the more crowded ‘public’ area of the courtyard. In the House of the Mosaic Atrium at Herculaneum, by contrast (fig. 394), the atrium-tablinum complex that one entered from the street was quite small, and obviously unimportant in comparison with the large garden-peristyle and living rooms along the side toward the old city wall and the sea. At Pompeii, the final form of the House of the Faun had two atria (one Tuscan, the other tetrastyle) side by side (fig. 395); only the tetrastyle atrium was accessible from the street, but only the Tuscan atrium was provided with a tablinum. Behind these atria was a spacious peristyle court, 9 columns by 7; beyond this court lay an even larger garden peristyle (11 columns by 13). At least in its final form, the House of the Vettii at Pompeii had no tablinum at all. Instead, one passed directly from the atrium into the colonnade along one side of the garden peristyle; the room serving the functions of the tablinum opened off one short end of this garden court. These developments, extending over a period of some three centuries, illustrate the progressive decline of the atrium complex in ItaloHellenistic houses, and the increasing popularity of the Greek peristyle court. Vitruvius, as we have already remarked, mentions the importance of providing in the homes of men of rank elements that had no place in the simple Italic atrium of earlier times: ‘lofty entrancehalls, most spacious atria and peristyles, with plantings and walks of some extent in them, and libraries, picture-galleries, and basilicas finished in a style similar to that of great public buildings.’ Spacious atria had of course been a feature of the palaces of wealthy Etruscan noblemen, and the garden scenes painted on the walls of later Archaic Etruscan tombs, such as the Tomba del Triclinio at Tarquinii, certainly suggest that large gardens were a familiar feature of the aristocratic homes of Central Italy long before they appeared in Hellenistic Greek contexts in the eastern Mediterranean. Livy also describes enclosed gardens in houses of the third century at

206

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

Capua.161 Yet it is equally clear that the specific association of garden and peristyle was due to Greek influence, even though Roman and Italic peristyles were normally more strictly axial in plan than those we encounter in Greek lands east of the Adriatic. We have seen that the garden peristyle probably originated in Ptolemaic Egypt.162 Also Ptolemaic in origin were ornamental fountains; but here again Italic and Roman architects took over this idea and made it very much their own. By the middle of the first century BC, Cicero has Atticus speaking of ‘artificial streams called Niles or Euripi’ in country villas; and Varro describes at length his own villa at Casinum, which included a canal with bridges, groves, fish ponds, and colonnades covered with a net to prevent the birds from escaping.163 In the first century AD, Nero, in his Golden House, planned to transplant this spacious country villa to the heart of Rome. Such suburban and country villas, of which the Villa dei Papiri outside Herculaneum is a good example of Late Republican date (fig. 396), probably also had their roots in Ptolemaic Egypt, where, as we have seen, landscaping and garden palaces were as old as the Pharaonic period. The architectural forms of the Roman villa were also Hellenistic in origin. Yet we have no evidence to indicate that Eastern Hellenistic villas ever attained the scale of those of later Republican Italy – this despite the fact that the peristyles, fountains, mosaic floors, and even the natural or artificial grottoes described by Roman poets and preserved in actual examples of villa architecture, all had forerunners in the Hellenistic East, especially in Alexandria. Even the ‘porticus villas’ represented in wall paintings of the early Empire from Campania (fig. 400), and actually preserved in the Villa di Arianna at Stabiae, have purely Greek architectural forms, and may have been based on Alexandrian (and perhaps Antiochene) models. Yet Italo-Hellenistic architects combined all these forms and ideas in a distinctively Italic manner. The fully developed villa and palace architecture of the later Republic and Empire was almost entirely a Roman achievement; outside of Alexandria, it seems to

have had no rivals in the eastern Mediterranean, from which most of the individual details were derived. It is clear from the variety of monuments discussed in this chapter that the final estimate of the achievements of Hellenistic architecture in Italy and Sicily depends in large measure on the interpretation given to the term ‘Hellenistic.’ If the word is used only of the culture of the Greek cities of south Italy and Sicily, the picture that emerges is one of a flourishing tradition in the later fourth and early third centuries, and of steady decline thereafter. The estimate will be quite different if, as in the preceding pages, the term Italo-Hellenistic is used to describe the total architectural achievement of both Greeks and non-Greeks in the western Mediterranean between the fourth and the first century BC. From this point of view, and as a result of the intervention of Italic and Roman architects who adapted Greek forms and ideas to their own purposes, Hellenistic architecture in Italy in the end exceeded in originality and vigour any of the regional styles of the eastern Mediterranean, including those of the wealthy kingdoms of Syria and Egypt. In the final analysis, this Italo-Hellenistic achievement was made possible by two quite distinct circumstances. In the first place, in middle and late Hellenistic times the centre of power and wealth increasingly shifted from the eastern Mediterranean to Rome. Second (and much more important), Italic and Roman architects, thanks to their long-standing familiarity with Greek art and architecture, had an understanding and appreciation of Hellenistic architectural structure and ornament that was to a large extent beyond the capacity of the non-Greek subjects of both the Seleukids and Ptolemies. As a result, they were able to develop an almost entirely new and original tradition of their own, and to lay the foundations for the great masterpieces of the Imperial age. In Late Antique times Rutilius Namatianus could say that Rome had ‘made a city of the entire earth’;164 he might well have added that it was an essentially Graeco-Roman city, since it had Hellenistic as well as Italic foundations.

10 Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: The Role of Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design Hellenistic and Roman theatres illustrate more clearly than any other group of buildings a new relationship to cityscape or landscape or both – a relationship that becomes more and more common from the middle of the fourth century onward.1 While the great dramatic masterpieces of Greek and Roman antiquity were the work of Classical dramatists, it was left to Hellenistic architects and their Roman successors to draw together into a unified whole the architecturally disparate elements at Classical theatre buildings, and to integrate these forms into a planned landscape of city or suburbs unknown in Classical times. For example, the Hellenistic theatre at Ephesos faced westward over a main street toward the harbour (fig. 397).2 At Priene, the small theatre was adapted to the rectangular grid of the city streets (figs. 114–15); from a position at the highest level of the built-up area of the site, the upper tiers of seats commanded striking views of many of the city’s major buildings as well as of the landscape beyond. The theatre at Pergamon, though within the walls, was outside the citadel – spectacularly placed when seen from below or from across the valley, and with spectacular vistas out over the landscape beyond the city (figs. 398, 239). Similar effects are encountered in the location of the Roman theatres at Aspendos and Perge in Pamphylia. Both theatres rested against a slope; both were closely associated with a neighbouring stadium. At Aspendos the auditorium of the

theatre looked away from the city to the landscape of river and mountains, while at Perge the spectators faced toward the cityscape of stadium, walls and towers, streets and public buildings, acropolis and temples; the type of vista differed, but in both cases the vista was an important part of the total impression. Much of the urbanistic development of Aspendos and Perge took place in Hellenistic times, and no other remains of theatres have been found in either city; thus it is likely that the existing Roman buildings had Hellenistic predecessors on the same sites, as at Ephesos and Miletos. The construction of the first permanent stone theatres, during the later fourth and early third centuries, may have provided much of the original inspiration for the use of ‘vista’ in Hellenistic architecture; certainly they must have added a new impressiveness to the appearance of Greek cities and sanctuaries, with the upper levels of the large auditoria affording extensive views over city, sanctuaries, and landscape (as, for example, at Athens, Megalopolis, Delphi, Priene, Pergamon, and Assos, as well as in such Western Greek examples as the theatres at Syracuse, Tyndaris, and Morgantina in Sicily). Perhaps the relationship of theatre to setting was one of the things that impressed Pompey so strongly about the theatre at Mytilene on Lesbos.3 A similar integration of architecture with cityscape or landscape, or both, recurs in other areas of Hellenistic architecture. The most familiar of these areas are probably sanctuaries

208

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

and religious buildings, which have usually been more interesting and informative to archaeologists and historians; but similar effects are often found in secular contexts. The Classical approach to design is well illustrated by the Athenian Acropolis and Agora. The four major Classical buildings on the Acropolis (the Parthenon, Erechtheion, Propylaia, and Nike temple) are such familiar monuments that it is hard to think of them apart from each other or from their actual setting. Yet it seems clear that these four buildings were not, and were never intended to be, fully integrated with each other.4 The awkward differences in ground level of the Erechtheion can hardly be regarded as a complete integration of building and site; the site of the Nike temple is an artificial platform, the core of which had once been a Mycenaean gate-tower,5 and in any event the temple, from some points of view, is lost in the mass of the Propylaia – and would have been even more so if the Propylaia had been completed according to the original plan accepted by many scholars. The Propylaia, in its east–west slope and western approaches, both echoes and at the same time ‘monumentalizes’ the slopes of the hill itself; and its north–south spread was evidently intended to provide an architectural facade stretching across the whole western brow of the Acropolis. Moreover, all the elements of the building, at least in Dinsmoor’s view, would have fallen symmetrically on either side of the central east– west axis.6 The Parthenon of course is in many ways unique. From some viewpoints it still dominates the modern, as it did the ancient, city. It stands on the highest part of the Acropolis, yet with its broad low facades and long flanks, it seems to blend into the basic structure of the hill. In Classical times, however, the viewer standing outside the Acropolis to the southwest saw below the citadel walls little but bare rock and small structures. The ‘remodelling’ of the lower southern slopes of the hill, to provide an architectural screen comparable to that of the Propylaia on the western brow, belongs to Hellenistic and Roman times: the Odeion of Herodes, the great Hellenistic Stoa of Eumenes II (which did for the Athenian something of what Eumenes was also doing

for the Pergamene citadel),7 the later-fourthcentury construction of a permanent stone theatre and stagehouse (fig. 152), the building of a series of new structures in the Asklepieion. Hellenistic architects, I would suggest, were evidently the first who tried to look at the southern slopes of the Acropolis as an architectural whole, from the foot of the hill right up to the roof-ridge of the Parthenon. The site of the Argive Heraion is located on the lowest slopes of Mt Euboia, about 5 km southeast of Mycenae.8 The area of the sanctuary was divided into three distinct levels, or terraces: the earliest monumental temple, probably of very early Archaic date, stood on the highest terrace, retained by walls of massive polygonal blocks that are the most conspicuous extant remains. The early temple was destroyed by fire in the late fifth century, as we learn from Pausanias;9 its successor, designed by Eupolemos, stood on the middle terrace, and contained a cultstatue by Polykleitos. By the fifth century several modest stoas had been built against the retaining walls of the upper and middle terraces. It seems clear that there was never any overall plan for the development of the sanctuary; and the earlier terraces were, so to speak, treated as ‘precincts,’ with the temples located more or less in the middle of the terrace (figs. 148, 399). Quite a different arrangement is found in the precinct of Athena at Pergamon (figs. 69–70) and in the uppermost terrace of the sanctuary of Asklepios on Kos (figs. 73–4, 82, 407). At Pergamon, the temple and altar of Athena were placed at the outermost corner of the precinct, so that the temple facade, seen from outside and below, was an imposing feature on the skyline; and the later temple of Asklepios on Kos, although on the central north–south axis of its terrace, was located close enough to its front edge to form a striking culmination to the stepped arrangement of the sanctuary as a whole. By contrast, neither the earlier nor the later temple of Argive Hera would have been easily seen from immediately below their respective terraces; and for visitors approaching across the plain the sanctuary would have been increasingly dwarfed by the mountains rising behind it.

Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design The Argive sanctuary also differs markedly from its Hellenistic successors in its use of stoas as subsidiary elements. The series of stoas in the Heraion begins at quite an early date, but includes nothing as large or imposing as the stoas in the Pergamene and Koan sanctuaries; nor did the Argive stoas enclose any of the terraces or mask the terrace-walls or slopes, as the Stoa of Eumenes II, for example, masked the lower slopes of the Athenian Acropolis. In sum, the Argive Heraion was an impressive assemblage, with two successive temples of considerable size, a variety of subsidiary buildings, and hundreds of statues and other dedications. Moreover, it stood out boldly when seen from a distance by those approaching from Argos, and its terraces commanded wide-ranging views back over the plain toward the sea. Yet in Hellenistic, and especially in Pergamene, terms successive Heraion architects signally failed to realize the ‘dramatic’ potential of the site; and the various elements certainly did not form an architectural unity. In this respect as in others, the Greeks of South Italy and Sicily may have been more original and inventive than their cousins in Old Greece. For example, at Selinus the temples of the city proper and of the Eastern Hill formed two imposing groups that faced each other across the intervening valley; and similar impressive vistas existed at Akragas, whether from the acropolis toward the Hill of the Temples or vice versa. In South Italy, the Hellenistic use of vista is anticipated at Paestum, with its combination of ‘templescape,’ cityscape, and landscape, while the seascape formed an imposing setting for the temple of Hera Lacinia on Cape Colonna near Kroton.10 The casual and unplanned relationship of earlier temples to each other and to their subsidiary buildings is repeated in the plans of early agoras, as at Athens, where the American excavations have uncovered along the west and south sides of the agora (figs. 124, 132) a series of Classical buildings that, though sometimes elegant in themselves,11 were almost totally lacking in overall architectural unity. Along the west side of the agora, there stood, from north to south, the venerable Stoa Basileios, the small but attrac-

209

tive Stoa of Zeus of the later fifth century, a temple, the rebuilt Old and the New Council-houses, and the Tholos. Along the south side, extending eastward from the southwest corner, were a fountain-house, a square enclosure that perhaps served more than one function, the plain forms and materials of South Stoa I, a building that was probably the city mint, and another fountain-house. On the west, the alignment of the buildings was perhaps influenced by the Archaic drain as much as anything else; on the south the orientation of the various buildings was obviously determined by the line of the preexisting street that skirted the northern slopes of the Areopagos. Even in the late fourth century, when a large peristyle building (probably a lawcourt) was erected in the northeast sector of the agora, its alignment was again determined by the course of a street, so that one of its corners projected awkwardly into the open area of the agora. These informal and uncoordinated arrangements, which survived throughout the third and into the second century, are in sharp contrast to the more unified effect produced by late Hellenistic remodelling (figs. 124, 126, 162). On the western side of the square, the facade of the Hellenistic Metroon and the colonnaded entrance to ‘Council House Lane’ gave at least some degree of uniformity to the whole complex of buildings; and the eastern border was clearly defined by the new Stoa of Attalos II. The irregularly rising ground in the southern part of the agora was divided between two separate areas (the main agora on the north, the smaller South Square at a higher level on the south); the Middle Stoa, with colonnaded facades facing both northward and southward, unites as well as divides the two levels. From the high ground at the southeastern corner of the main square, long colonnaded facades extended westward (the Middle Stoa) and northward (the Stoa of Attalos II); in front of each stoa was a terrace that increased in height, relative to the floor of the agora, as it receded from the viewer. With the modern reconstruction of the Stoa of Attalos, something of the imposing effect of these arrangements has been restored to the site. At Corinth, too, the boundaries of the agora, at least in the architectural sense, remained

210

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

irregular and ill defined until a relatively late period. It was probably not until the late fourth or early third century that the construction of the South Stoa (fig. 157) clearly marked the southern limits of the area, and set the pattern for future additions. Even so, it was apparently only in Roman times that the northern side of the Corinthian agora received a really monumental treatment.12 As we have seen earlier,13 similar patterns of development can be found in the great sanctuaries at Olympia, Delphi, and Delos (figs. 77–8, 147, 153). At Olympia, the commencement of the Echo Colonnade and the building of the South Stoa both date from the fourth century. At Delos, the largest single buildings around the borders of the sanctuary were Hellenistic (the Stoa of Antigonos and the Hall of the Bulls). At Delphi, also, the really effective developments in the upper part of the sacred enclosure belong to the period from the later fourth century onward (the Alexander Hunt group, the Hellenistic theatre, and the Stoa of Attalos I and other Pergamene monuments in the region northeast of the great temple).14 It seems clear that the sites of the theatre and of the Stoa of Attalos I were deliberately chosen to provide an imposing vista over the temple of Apollo and the other buildings and monuments that stood in the lower reaches of the sacred precinct. Apparently the use of the higher levels of the sanctuary for such effects had rarely been considered before the Hellenistic age.15 The preceding pages have dealt entirely with buildings in relation to their natural setting. We must now consider the extent to which Classical and later Greek designers were interested in the more contrived effects of landscape architecture and gardening.16 At Athens there were ‘the gardens of Hephaistos,’ a series of formal plantings around the temple of Hephaistos that overlooks the agora from the west. Ancient sources also speak of trees in the agoras of Athens and other cities; and ‘sacred groves’ of one sort or another are fairly common, as at Dodona, in the Asklepieion on Kos, and at Didyma. None of these examples, however, is really landscape architecture; in any case, the trees planted in marketplaces were probably intended primarily for the convenience of the citizens, not as planned

landscaping in the modern sense. Yet the Athenians for whom Sophokles’ ‘Ode to Kolonos’ was written can hardly have been indifferent to natural beauties. If their city offered nothing comparable with our modern parks, or with the many horti of Rome, it was probably because available space within the walls did not allow for such luxuries.17 Landscaping and gardens on a large scale were to be found only in suburban complexes, for instance, the olive groves and plane trees of the Academy. Perhaps it was the constricted atmosphere of the cities that led those who could afford it to acquire large country estates, at least in the Hellenistic period, when the countryside was probably less subject to pillage and destruction than it had been during the endless bickering and strife of the city-states of Classical Greece. The same longing for and idealization of country life and country landscapes underlies both the poetry of Theokritos, Bion, and Moschos and the paintings of country villas and idealized landscapes from Campania.18 The wall paintings provide several examples of a type of seaside villa of which little is known from extant remains. A series of rooms opens off a shallow colonnade, in some cases twostoreyed; sometimes projecting wings embrace a small inlet of the sea. Some of the villas are backed by trees and rising ground; others are set back from, and above, the seashore, with a vista of both landscape and seascape (figs. 400a– b). In most cases it is clear that the sites must have been chosen to command vistas of either sea or countryside, if not both. Wall paintings from the Vesuvian area also include many examples of rustic landscapes with peasants, grottos, shrines, trees, fountains, and so forth. These scenes have a very close connection with the pastoral poetry of the Hellenistic age, even though they are later than the time, for example, of Theokritos. In the first place, they represent the same sort of idealization of rustic life that we find in Theokritos; second, they most probably had their roots, as did Theokritos’s poems, in the Eastern Hellenistic world, and especially in Ptolemaic Alexandria. What we know of Syrian Antioch during the Hellenistic period suggests that there may have been similar ‘rustic’ elements in the suburban villas

Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design of the wealthy of that city as well; but the whole concept of ‘architecture in landscape,’ and of its representation in Hellenistic painting or mosaic, seems to have been primarily a contribution of Egypt, where such subjects have their roots in Pharaonic painting and palace architecture of the New Kingdom (fig. 401).19 Webster has also emphasized the close connection between Hellenistic pastoral poetry and such architectural creations as the symposion-tent of Ptolemy II, which I have discussed elsewhere.20 The tent could accommodate two hundred banqueters, and was provided with lofty wooden columns, some of them imitating palm trees, others ivy-wreathed Dionysiac thyrsoi. The banquet tent was evidently surrounded by the gardens and shade trees of the palace park; and Alexandrian gardeners provided both an abundance of wreaths for the banqueters and a floral carpet for the dining hall. Moreover, in the upper part of the intervals of the main colonnade was a series of grottos, with groups of figures dressed in costumes drawn from the theatre. ‘Ptolemy’s tent is a royal magnification of the artificial bower which the ordinary man might have for a symposion, and the grottos with which the upper storey is decorated are related to the cave of the nymphs where the young Dionysos grew up; his devotees drink his wine in his cave, after mixing it with the water of the Nymphs.’21 The garden theme in a Hellenistic context recurs, as already noted, in the account of the great ship constructed for Hieron II of Syracuse, and subsequently presented by him to Ptolemy IV.22 One of the dining-rooms had a mosaic floor representing ‘the whole story of the Iliad’; on the top deck were gymnasia with promenades, in which were gardens of all kinds with plants of amazing size. Theokritos himself provides another link between Syracuse and Alexandria; he evidently felt unappreciated at the court of Hieron II, and moved first to Kos and later to the Ptolemaic court.23 In the light of such connections between the two cities, it is not unreasonable to derive many of the poetic and architectural concepts of Hellenistic Syracuse from Alexandria. The landscape architecture of Alexandria also exerted a considerable influence in Italy in the

211

porticus and landscape villas already mentioned above. Boethius notes that this type of house is found in many parts of the Mediterranean world from the Bronze Age onwards; and the architects of Late Republican times invested the type with ‘all the hellenistic charm of paintings, colonnades, and terraces with fine views.’24 In this connection he also notes a speech of Agrippa, mentioned by the Elder Pliny, in which Augustus’s great minister proposed to make public property the many pictures and statues ‘exiled to the villas’ of the wealthy,25 for instance, the painting of the Argonauts by Kydias, which the orator Hortensius had set up in a special ‘shrine’ in his Tusculan villa.26 The Late Republic and Early Empire offer many examples of artificial or natural grottoes, frequently with elegantly decorated floors and walls; the refinement of Late Republican examples, with their nymphaea and musaea, was clearly due to Hellenistic influence. The cave, pools, and groups of sculpture at Sperlonga were simply an Imperial elaboration of Late Republican ideas. The porticus villa by the seaside also became more elaborate in Imperial times, as in the villa of Val Catena on Brioni Grande, outside the bay of Pola (ca. AD 100), with its elegant colonnaded pavilions, summer living quarters, and baths, extending around the head of the little bay and along the shore opposite the large main building.27 The rambling, informal, and fascinating architectural fantasies of Hadrian’s great villa at Tivoli represent the ultimate development of the landscape villa. These monumental Imperial villas are instructive in two ways. First, they are clearly descended from the essentially Hellenistic landscape architecture of the Late Republic, as found in actual and painted examples in the Vesuvian region. Second, the Imperial versions were more ‘monumentalized,’ and consequently more formal, than the original Alexandrian models seem to have been.28 Informality and harmony with the landscape or seascape vista were apparently typical of the Hellenistic, or at least of the Alexandrian approach. Moreover, Hellenistic, and especially Alexandrian, architects employed these elements with a conscious precision not found in earlier complexes, such as those at Delphi, Epidauros, and Didyma.

212

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

In the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace, for example, the American excavators found the remains of an altar that once stood in a partly natural, partly artificial setting of rocks, spring and glade; the altar itself evidently dates from the Archaic period. It is not clear whether the contrived setting of spring and glade is equally ancient;29 if it is, there may have been more forerunners of Hellenistic landscape architecture than has usually been realized, even if these were small in scale.30 The problem of date also arises with examples known only from ancient literature. Thus Pausanias, in his account of the approach to the grove of the Muses on Mt. Helikon,31 mentions a relief of Eupheme, the nurse of the Muses, then continues: ‘After her likeness there is a portrait of Linos on a small rock cut to resemble a grotto; they sacrifice to him as to a hero every year.’ Pausanias gives no indication either of the size of the grotto or of its date; it seems to have been pre-Roman, but by how long we cannot tell. In Hellenistic times there is a good deal of variety in the scale of the sculpture and architecture presented in rather contrived, and consciously ‘romantic,’ settings. A modest example is found at the foot of the final ascent to the acropolis of Lindos, on the east coast of Rhodes. Hewn out of the rock of the cliff is a sort of exedra with a large relief of the stern of a warship (fig. 402), so represented that it seems to be disappearing behind the nearer mass of rock. The steering-oar and helmsman’s seat are clearly shown; the deck served as the base of a statue of Hagesandros, priest of Poseidon, or possibly for a figure of Nike. The monument evidently commemorated a Rhodian naval victory in the period ca. 180 – the same period in which the famous Nike of Samothrace was carved and set in place.32 Visitors to the Louvre have in the past been greatly impressed by the dramatic placing of the Nike of Samothrace at the head of a staircase. The statue deserved such a location, for its original position in the sanctuary of the Great Gods was equally effective. It formed the centrepiece of an elaborate exedra, possibly a fountain, above and southwest of the Hellenistic theatre.33 The exedra was divided into inner and outer sections, with

the ship’s prow on which the Nike stood projecting forward obliquely from the background. The treatment of the background is unknown; possibly a pool of water in the front part of the exedra suggested a vessel surging toward the onlooker, with the figure of the goddess alighting on the prow. It is true that Lehmann’s restoration of the complex, as a fountain with upper and lower basins, seems to ignore the absence of evidence for the waterproofing of the ‘basins.’34 Nevertheless, the ‘illusionistic’ placing of the Nike seems to be beyond doubt; it is perhaps significant that the development of this part of the sanctuary, like so much of the Hellenistic work at Samothrace, was due to the activities of the Ptolemies, who were generous patrons of the cult of the Great Gods. In fact, many of the Hellenistic structures may represent concepts of ‘architecture in landscape’ imported ready-made from Egypt – unless, as suggested above, the Archaic altar in its partly artificial setting indicates a much longer history of such concepts on the island of Samothrace. In any event, a similar combination of architecture and landscape elements appears in the ceremonial entrance to the sanctuary constructed by Ptolemy II (283–246), and known simply as the Ptolemaion (figs. 133–5, 138).35 Monumental gateways had become fairly commonplace in Classical times; what is unusual about some Hellenistic examples such as the Ptolemaion and the North Propylaia at Epidauros, is the fact that they were not propyla in the usual sense, that is, gate structures in an enclosing wall, but independent architectural creations in an essentially landscape setting. The Ptolemaion was built directly over a torrent-bed, and a barrel-vaulted tunnel was provided to take off excess floodwater without damage to the structure above. Thus, the new propylon was both a bridge and an ornamental entranceway, deliberately placed in a setting of rocks and water. A more normal arrangement would have been to construct a viaduct across the torrent-bed, with the gateway proper set back from one or the other bank. The Ptolemaion had still another ‘picturesque’ quality not found in earlier examples: different types of column were used on the two facades. The re-investigation in the 1960s by the Ameri-

Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design can excavators, almost a century after the original discovery of the monument by the Austrians, revealed the previously unsuspected fact that while the outer facade was purely Ionic, the inner had Corinthian capitals.36 It seems probable that Alexandrian architects, together with their counterparts in Seleukid Syria, did far more to promote the development of Hellenistic Corinthian as an independent order than did the architects of the Aegean world; and the early adoption of the order in later Republican Rome was largely due to influences coming directly from Egypt and Syria, rather than by way of western Asia Minor, the Aegean, and Greece.37 It may well be that the virtue of Corinthian, for Alexandrian architects, lay chiefly in its naturalistic leaf forms, which would have been more fitting companions for other nature forms – for instance, those of Ptolemy’s symposion-tent – than the formal ornament of Ionic capitals could ever have been.38 Yet the Alexandrian approach to landscape architecture was not simply a matter of integrating buildings into a landscape of rocks, trees, and springs. Alexandrian architects seem to have regarded such ‘natural’ elements (whether an original part of the site or artificially contrived) as essential and major aspects of the overall vista. The Pergamene approach was rather different: the nearer vistas were almost entirely architectural, with the landscape more or less completely masked; on the other hand, these architectural elements were grouped with a greater semblance of formal order (figs. 69–71, 239, 295, 398), and in such a fashion that there were always imposing vistas over the architectural ‘fringe’ to more distant landscapes or seascapes beyond.39 Had Samothrace had as important patrons the Attalids instead of the Ptolemies and the kings of Macedonia, the final appearance of the sanctuary of the Great Gods might have been very different in character. In the actual event, Hellenistic developments at Samothrace show a type of planning characterized by deliberate informality, and absence of any axial uniformity among the various elements; yet irregular sites such as this were exactly the sort of terrain in which Pergamene architects so often strove to create an architectural regularity that would both complement and harmonize with the irregular topography.40

213

Hellenistic developments at Samothrace also differ both from the Classical informality of Epidauros and from the simplicity of Brauron (figs. 108, 272). Certainly both informality and simplicity are found at Samothrace; but the effect is much more studied in character. The sanctuary of Amphiaraos at Oropos (fig. 403) perhaps offers the closest parallel on the Greek mainland to the combination of architecture and landscape found on Samothrace; and the major developments at Oropos were also of fourthcentury and Hellenistic date. The differences between the Pergamene and Alexandrian styles are evident both in the general plans of complexes and in individual decorative and other details. For example, in the temple and precinct of Athena at Pergamon (fig. 69) the ordered architecture dominates the landscape to a degree that is simply not found in the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace, even when due allowance is made for the urban context in which the Pergamene temple stood. In matters of detail, the popularity of Corinthian with the architects of Alexandria has already been noted, and a possible explanation for it suggested. On the other hand, at Pergamon and in the Pergamene sphere of influence Corinthian is virtually unknown before the Roman period; instead, Pergamene types of leaf capital, and their later derivatives, are preferred. The Pergamene capital stresses essentially architectural forms and qualities much more strongly than do the ‘picturesque’ nature-forms of its more familiar Corinthian cousin. Moreover, the Pergamene fondness for large-scale architectural complexes cannot have been simply a matter of money; for the Ptolemies had ample wealth at their disposal, and lavished a good deal of it on the sanctuary on Samothrace. Nor did Pergamene architects simply remodel their landscape to suit the architecture. Rather, landscape and architecture at Pergamon are equally important; indeed the impressiveness of Pergamon, even in ruins, is due largely to the manner in which land forms and building forms are harmoniously adapted to each other. When seen from the exterior landscape, the architecture of the temple and stoas of the Athena sanctuary would have been dominant, while from the site of the Great Altar the

214

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

stoas formed an architectural vista behind the architectural forms of the temple (figs. 69, 70a). From the upper storey of the Athena stoas, the vista beyond the temple was almost all of landscape – valley, river, and mountains extending westward and southwestward toward the distant sea (fig. 70b). Similar effects can be found, almost certainly as a result of Pergamene influence, in the agoras of Assos, Aigai in Aiolis, Herakleia-underLatmos, and Alinda, in the later developments in the sanctuary of Athena at Priene, and in the groups of terraced buildings at Termessos in Pisidia. Furthermore, while a good deal of regularity was imposed on the irregular sites of Herakleia and Alinda, the Pergamene designers of the agora at Assos were content to make it monumental and visually impressive, without insisting on a rectangular plan (fig. 113). At Termessos, too – surely one of the most rugged sites to which the principles of Hellenistic town planning were ever applied – the carefully coordinated (though differently oriented) buildings and terraces imposed a new order on the landscape, as well as forming an effective contrast to the surrounding wilderness of mountains and valleys. At Priene, the difference between the Late Classical and Pergamene approaches is clearly demonstrated by the addition to the south side of the sanctuary of Athena of a stoa, perhaps with columns on both long sides, and looking down from a broad terrace to the agora complex below (fig. 160). Seen from the agora, the stoa was an imposing piece of architecture on the skyline, with the upper part of the actual temple rising above and behind it.41 This sort of vista in two directions differs radically from the Classical approach, in which the temple was likely to be shut away from the outside world, within its own enclosure. It is interesting to compare the Pergamene achievements at Assos and Termessos, not only with other Hellenistic creations (whether nonPergamene or probably Pergamene), but also with Roman work in Asia Minor. For example, the special characteristics of the Pergamene style are all present at Aigai in Aiolis (fig. 405),42 where the numerous terraced complexes blend

into and define the topography of the site, of which they were themselves natural outgrowths. When the colonnaded buildings on these terraces stood complete, they must have been remarkably impressive from the architectural point of view. By contrast with Assos and Aigai, smaller Sicilian towns such as Morgantina and Tyndaris,43 while doubtless efficient in their layout, have little of the monumentality of the Pergamene style; nor did the Karian complex at Labraynda ever achieve the effectiveness of the sanctuaries of Athena at Pergamon and Priene, or even the imposing visual relationship that exists between the temple of Artemis and the agora complex at Magnesia on the Maiander.44 At Pergamon itself, the Traianeum (fig. 398, to left of theatre), with its large scale and severe axiality, must certainly have been very impressive from below and outside, as well as affording effective vistas over the theatre terrace and the surrounding landscape. Yet this monumentality was achieved by completely remodelling the natural forms of the hillside, through deep and massive substructures that allowed the designer to impose upon the site a preconceived architectural form. This characteristically Roman approach is already found in the later Republican sanctuary at Praeneste in Latium (fig. 90), although the design there is perhaps more closely related to its Hellenistic predecessors. The architects of Pergamon frequently built an imposing vista around, or in connection with, a temple of modest – not to say small – dimensions. If the Pergamene kings claimed a special relationship with Hera Basileia, it might seem reasonable to look for Hera’s temple inside the citadel, in the vicinity of the royal palaces. Instead, the temple overlooked the gymnasium complex (figs. 294–5), on the middle to lower slopes of the hill, not far above the Lower Agora.45 This region must have been one of the most frequented in the whole city; and the temple of Hera, though small in scale, was clearly designed to be as imposing as possible when seen on the skyline from the terraces of the great gymnasium. As a result of the superb location of the temple, the gymnasium must have appeared to be a vast series of forecourts for Hera’s sanctuary.

Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design It is significant, too, that Pergamene temple designs were totally indifferent to ‘traditional’ orientations. The temples of Athena Polias and Hera Basileia, and of Demeter and Dionysos, were frankly oriented in terms of architectural vista, that is, of what visitors saw behind the Athena temple from the altar, or below the temple of Hera, or extending in front of the entrance porches of the temples of Demeter and Dionysos. This carefully coordinated planning of an entire complex has no real parallels in preHellenistic times; for in earlier periods almost all attention had usually been focused on the temple itself, which stood isolated within its precinct. At Assos, as noted in an earlier chapter, the agora terrace, stairways, and stoas, a short distance below the cliffs of the acropolis (figs. 112–13), formed an effective culmination of the cityscape that rose steeply from roadstead to theatre and marketplace; above the agora, the citadel had long been crowned by the Archaic temple of Athena. At Aigai, too, some of the crowning elements of the cityscape seem to have been temples; the stoas and terraces ‘smoothed out’ the irregularities of the site, without imposing upon it an artificial rectangularity (fig. 405). From whatever direction visitors approached, the resulting vistas of cityscape and landscape must have been very similar to the colonnaded terraces that rose in great steps up the hillside at Pergamon. In Hellenistic Athens, the long lines of the Middle Stoa led the eye to the important public buildings along the west side of the square, and to the Hephaisteion rising above them; and we have seen how the Stoa of Eumenes II, on the south side of the Acropolis, formed a striking architectural baseline for the buildings and cliffs above and behind it – in this respect fulfilling much the same role as the North Stoa of the agora at Assos. Alinda in Karia also seems to show the influence of Pergamene city architecture in the planning of the rectangular terrace of the agora; both from the acropolis above, and from the openings in the rear wall of the colonnade that crowned the great marketbuilding, there were wide vistas over the lowerlying parts of the city and the surrounding plain (figs. 118–19).

215

Even at Delos, where the difference in elevation between harbour and sanctuary is negligible, a series of stoas was built during Hellenistic times to make the approach to the sanctuary more impressive (fig. 142, 153 lower right), and to serve as a foil to the glimpses of landscape and seascape beyond. The construction of the Stoa of Philip V is dated ca. 200 by the French excavators, the later addition of a second colonnaded facade, toward the harbour, ca. 170.46 Thus, the siting and visual effectiveness of this building may well have been inspired by early developments in Pergamene city architecture. Philip, during his campaign at Pergamon itself, was doubtless impressed by the dramatic quality of the Pergamene cityscape; and he may have been trying to upstage an earlier Pergamene gift to Delian Apollo, if the Delian South Stoa was in fact such a gift. In designing stoas Pergamene architects, who often had to work with irregular hill-sites, were clearly less interested in overall length and floor area than in the proportion of height to length on the facade, in relation to the open area in front of the building. The designers of the South Stoa at Corinth and the Stoas of Philip II at Megalopolis and of Antigonos on Delos (figs. 157, 155, 153) had not learned this lesson.47 Consequently, in each of these buildings a modest single-storey design, such as we find in South Stoa I and the Stoa of Zeus in the Athenian Agora (figs. 150, 151), was simply extended to the length required by the site. Especially at Corinth and Delos, this rather unimaginative approach produced facades that were ridiculously long in proportion to the height of the order. In fact, the stoas at Corinth, Megalopolis, and Delos would all have been more attractive in appearance if they had an upper storey, as in the Pergamene stoas at Athens and the North Stoa at Assos (figs. 152, 163, 113),48 and would also have provided a more effective frame for the buildings and monuments of sanctuary and marketplace. From this point of view, the Stoa of Philip V on Delos forms an instructive contrast. Its facades were in any case much shorter in relation to the height of the order; still more important, they were normally seen from close quarters, more often than not by viewers standing close to one end of the

216

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

colonnade (figs. 153.13, 142 lower left). Thus the height of the facade would have been strongly emphasized, while the length was drastically foreshortened; and there was never any feeling of excessively long and low proportions. In his description of the marketplace at Elis, Pausanias makes a distinction between the ‘old fashioned’ and ‘Ionian’ types of agora;49 perhaps the significance of his remarks should be reconsidered in the light of the foregoing paragraphs. Clearly Pausanias regarded the rectangular, and more or less completely enclosed, agora as the normal design,50 while the more open and less formal arrangement at Elis is labelled (archaia, ‘ancient’ or ‘old fashioned’). Yet he does not say, or even imply, that the new designs were in any way superior to the old; indeed, given his antiquarian bias, he probably found the older designs more interesting, and more ‘worth seeing,’ than the new. Restorations of the agoras at Miletos and Magnesia (figs. 128, 406), showing large open areas enclosed by continuous singlestoreyed colonnades of monotonously long and low aspect, are certainly somewhat misleading; for they show nothing of the bustling crowds and innumerable votive and commemorative monuments so clearly attested in the agoras of Athens and Priene. Still, even when due allowance is made for such factors, it is unlikely that the large enclosed agoras of Hellenistic Asia Minor were as interesting architecturally, or as full of life, as the central areas of Athens or Corinth. In these cities the agora was not only rich in historical and religious associations, but also included buildings of considerable architectural importance. Perhaps in this respect the marketplaces of Assos and Aigai (figs. 113, 116), or even of Priene (fig. 122), were also more interesting than those of Miletos and Magnesia. Large open areas of rectangular (or at least regular) shape can be enormously effective when framed in the manner of Trajan’s Forum at Rome.51 In Hellenistic Asia Minor, however, the enclosing stoas were usually limited to the minimum height and depth required for practical efficiency; thus in visual terms they were dwarfed by the sheer size of the open area that they enclosed. Architects of the Pergamene school seem to have been almost alone, in the Hellenistic world, in appreciating

the importance (later emphasized by Vitruvius) of proper balance between the vertical and horizontal aspects of an agora or forum and its surrounding buildings.52 Pergamene influence, if not Pergamene architects, probably also accounted for the visual effectiveness of some of the larger sacred complexes of Hellenistic times, apart from those at Pergamon itself. In its final form, the sanctuary of Asklepios on Kos was divided into three terraces (figs. 82, 407).53 Of these, the narrow middle terrace, running east–west, was the original core of the sanctuary; the altar and the small Ionic temple go back to the end of the fourth century, and follow the east–west orientation of the middle terrace. The large upper and lower terraces were later additions, and changed the overall orientation of the whole sanctuary from east–west to north–south. The lower terrace, perhaps because of the natural contours of the area, is somewhat off-centre, and turned slightly northeast– southwest, in relation to the axis of the middle and upper terraces. Built during the third century, it consisted of a colonnaded court with high exterior walls; it was approached from the plain by means of a broad stairway leading to a modest propylon. Thus from the Sacred Way visitors would have seen little but high blank walls; inside these walls, however, was a large enclosed space, clearly facing away from the outside world and inward toward the temple terrace, to which a second stairway ascended. Nevertheless, the exterior walls of this lower terrace could not have been particularly interesting or imposing for those approaching from the city; indeed, from close quarters they completely blocked any view of the little Ionic temple on the second terrace. Consequently, the upper terrace was planned and built toward the middle of the second century, that is, in the heyday of Pergamene city architecture, and with actual Pergamene aid in the form of a subsidy from Eumenes II;54 as part of the same program the altar was rebuilt in marble, in part at least on the model of the Great Altar of Zeus at Pergamon itself.55 The area of the old temple and altar remained the core of the whole sanctuary; but they were now visually subordinate to the new colonnaded upper terrace, where a new and larger

Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape: Setting and Vista in Hellenistic Design temple was constructed in the Doric order (figs. 73–4). This new temple, on plan an enlarged copy of the fourth-century temple of Asklepios at Epidauros, stood on the axis, and well toward the front, of the terrace; thus it looked both outward, over the landscape, and downward, along two flights of steps separated by a landing, toward the old altar area. The reasons for the construction of a second and larger temple, with a completely new orientation, seem to have been twofold. First, the whole vast complex now acquired a ‘closed’ unity, walled off below, along the sides, and above from the areas outside, and with all its parts clearly focusing on the central sacred area. Second, and perhaps even more important, the new north–south orientation of the terraces provided superb vistas of architecture and landscape that no predominantly east–west arrangement could ever have matched. From the plain, the series of walls and terraces rising up the slope was brilliantly crowned by the large upper temple; from the steps of this temple, the view ranged downward over the buildings of the middle and lower terraces, then across the plain to the city and the sea in the distance. These are the same effects as we find at Pergamon in the sanctuaries of Athena and Hera Basileia; and there seems to be no good reason to doubt Pergamene inspiration in the final development of the Asklepieion on Kos. Another sanctuary in the Dodecanese that developed from modest beginnings to a large and elaborate complex of later Hellenistic times was that of Athena Lindia, at Lindos on Rhodes.56 In its final form, the Lindia sanctuary and its approaches occupied almost the whole of the steepcliffed acropolis of the ancient city. The Lindian citadel commands beautiful vistas of landscape and seascape, on the one side toward the large harbour (fig. 75), on the other toward the almost landlocked small harbour. The temple of Athena stood on the highest point of the acropolis, its narrow southwestern promontory (figs. 29, 76). The temple faced northeast because no other orientation was really feasible on this particular site; in any case, it was probably tied to this spot, at the very brink of the seaward cliffs, because immediately under the temple was the original sacred cave of the ‘Lady of Lindos,’ who seems

217

not to have been called Athena Lindia before the Classical period.57 There had been an earlier temple dating from the sixth century, that is, from a period when the lower part of the acropolis was doubtless still a military citadel. After the early temple was burned in the fourth century, a new building was erected in early Hellenistic times (figs. 30a–b)58 with exactly the same plan as its predecessor, but with Doric columns and superstructure of later-fourth-century style. Thereafter, between 300 and 200, increasingly elaborate architectural approaches to the temple were provided, in place of the long, narrow stairway that apparently formed the approach to the earlier temple (fig. 29, 76). First, the new propylaia were constructed between 300 and 250, with a broad stairway, framed at the top by projecting colonnaded wings on either side of the central portico, which gave access to the colonnaded court of the temple. The design of the propylaia has been connected with the Mnesiklean Propylaia at Athens, to which the Lindian structure certainly owed something. The Athenian building, however, had colonnaded facades of different scales facing inward from three sides of a rectangle; in the Lindian propylaia both the central colonnade and the wings faced outwards, toward the visitor approaching from below. Moreover, while the Propylaia of the Athenian Acropolis were designed primarily as an imposing architectural screen across the western brow of the hill, in the Lindian entranceway the facades of the colonnaded wings deliberately echoed in form and scale the facade of the temple behind them. This new approach to the temple of Athena Lindia became even more imposing in later Hellenistic times. Around 200, or perhaps a little earler, that is, again within the most active period of Pergamene city architecture, the Lindian complex was further enlarged by the building of a broad lower terrace, at the back of which was a long row of Doric columns. The central portion of this colonnade was merely a screen at the foot of the stairway leading up to the propylaia (fig. 75); projecting wings at either end created two L-shaped stoas, one on either side of the stairway (fig. 29). Once more the wings, though larger in scale than those of the propylaia, echoed the

218

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

tetrastyle facades of the gateway, just as the latter had echoed the tetrastyle facade of the temple. Thus the series of colonnaded terraces gradually focused inward upon the little temple; and a strong axis ran upward, through lower steps, lower terrace, and upper steps, to the centre of the propylaia, greatly enhancing the overall unity of the complex, even though the temple was not located on the central axis of its court. From the time that the visitor entered the enclosure of the citadel, the series of steps and colonnades beckoned him constantly upward toward the inner sanctuary; from the outer colonnade of the propylaia he looked backward

over the architectural foreground to the vistas of landscape and seascape beyond (fig. 75). Here again, the combination of architecture and land forms seems to be typically Pergamene in conception. In fact, among the monuments of the Aegean world and Asia Minor of which we have any extensive knowledge, Pergamon itself, the Asklepieion on Kos, and the Lindian sanctuary form a special group, distinct from virtually all other sites. More imposing than Classical work, more closely blended with the natural contours of the site than their Roman successors, they are among the greatest creations of ‘architecture in landscape’ that the ancient world has left us.

11 From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times The Hellenistic concept of ‘architecture in landscape,’ as described in the preceding chapter, exerted a considerable influence on Roman architecture. For example, despite the obviously Roman character of the monuments overall, there is much that is Hellenistic in inspiration both in the Republican complex at Praeneste (fig. 90) and in the Imperial Villa of Hadrian at Tivoli. Not the least important of the decorative elements in these and other Roman monuments are the many and varied combinations of columnar forms in essentially ornamental roles; and this trait too was part of their Hellenistic heritage. In Classical times, at least down to the end of the fifth century, the columnar orders had provided both the structural and the aesthetic basis of Greek designs; fourth-century and Hellenistic architects, however, paved the way for the secondary and almost entirely ornamental role that the orders played in Roman Imperial work. A comparison of Classical Athenian buildings, such as the Parthenon and the Erechtheion, with the facades of the Library of Celsus at Ephesos, of the early second century AD, and of the scenebuilding at Sabratha, ca. AD 200 (fig. 408), clearly illustrates the scale of the transformation that occurred in the use of the columnar orders. There is an obvious connection between the orders of the two Athenian buildings, constructed in the second half of the fifth century, and the earlier phases of both Doric and Ionic.1 On the other hand, while the columns in the Celsus Library and the scaenae frons at Sabratha are still free-

standing, in both cases they are no more than a skilfully varied decorative screen in front of a multi-storeyed wall; they are not primarily structural at all. When such decorative screens are reduced to relief ornament, as in the interior of the temple of Bacchus at Baalbek2 or the arcades of the Augustan theatre of Marcellus at Rome (fig. 409), the connection with Classical Greek prototypes is tenuous indeed. Nevertheless, the change in the role of the columns can be traced backward (or forward, depending upon one’s starting point) over the whole period between the fifth century BC and the second century AD. For instance, we may work backward from the Library of Hadrian at Athens, through the Colonnacce in the Forum Transitorium at Rome, of the late first century AD, and the late Republican rectangular temple by the Tiber at Rome (fig. 410), to such Hellenistic antecedents as Temple L at Epidauros (figs. 104–5, probably not later than ca. 200 BC, but already resembling Roman prostyle pseudoperipteral temples), the facade of the early Hellenistic Rhomaios Tomb at Vergina (fig. 215), and the Lion Tomb at Knidos or the Monument of Lysikrates at Athens (fig. 184 and figs. 202–3, 185; late fourth century and 334/3 BC), and so by way of the temple of Alea Athena at Tegea (ca. 345–330) to the halfcolumns in the cella of the temple of Apollo at Bassai.3 The above examples of columns or halfcolumns decorating the face of a wall extend in a continuous series over more than five centuries;

220

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

clearly, it was not the use of the columnar orders as decoration that was a Roman, or even a Hellenistic, innovation. The change lies rather in the increasing importance and variety of decorative elements in the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian orders, and in the gradual breaking down of traditional differences between those orders; and these new developments were primarily the work of Hellenistic architects. The new treatment of the orders is clearest in Doric, which had consistently been much plainer than Ionic, and had relied much more heavily on the repetition of formal elements in a regular sequence (triglyphs, metopes, regulae, mutules, and so forth). In the Parthenon some elements have already lost the bold forms that had been characteristic of earlier Doric. The smaller and more compact capitals, and the more slender and less ‘emphatic’ column-shafts, were obviously moving away from the ‘middle Doric’ of Hera II at Paestum, or even of the temple of Zeus at Olympia (fig. 411), both ca. 470–460, toward the so-called characterless forms of the fourthcentury temples at Tegea and Nemea. As the sweep and massiveness of earlier Doric columns were abandoned in favour of more slender and elegant proportions, architects working in the order tried to compensate for the loss by giving more emphasis to ornamental details. For example, compared with the later Heraion at Paestum, the height and importance of the friezeband at Nemea has increased substantially at the expense of the architrave; and the carved (as well as painted) ornament of the sima, or rain gutter, is now a significant feature in the decoration of this and other fourth-century buildings (figs. 412–13).4 By the end of the same century a small moulding sometimes appears along the top of the Doric abacus (fig. 414).5 Already in Classical Athenian Doric there seems to have been a sort of two-phase interaction between Doric and Ionic. First, Athenian architects of the first decades of the fifth century, when working in Doric, were prompted by their interest in creating a specifically Athenian version of Ionic to experiment with more slender and compact forms and proportions; these experiments led to the elimination of many of the features that had formed the aesthetic basis of

early and middle Doric. Second, the disappearance of the bold, sweeping lines and forms of earlier times led to replacement of these with new decorative elements borrowed even more directly from the Ionic tradition. Even the exterior entablature of the Parthenon is enlivened with an essentially Ionic use of mouldings, for instance, the bead-and-reel along the tops of the triglyphs;6 moreover, there was an Ionic frieze over the porch columns and along the top outer face of the cella walls. In the temple of Hephaistos, the Ionic frieze of the east porch extended across the flank colonnades to the back face of the exterior entablature; in the temple of Poseidon at Sounion there was an inward-facing Ionic frieze around all four sides of the front pteroma.7 In addition, the Parthenon also had four Ionic columns in the western interior room; and the use of Ionic columns inside a Doric exterior was even more obvious and conspicuous in the Propylaia of Mnesikles. With the fourth-century temple of Athena Pronaia at Delphi, late Classical Doric temples moved several steps further toward normal Hellenistic usage. This temple was relatively small, with only front porch and main room; no earlier Doric temple, at least on the Greek mainland, had so conspicuously combined Doric and Ionic columnar elements; and here, for the first time in a Doric temple, the square piers that stand in the entrance from porch to main room were decorated with frankly ornamental Ionic halfcolumns (figs. 415a–b).8 Such half-columns attached to piers are frequent in Hellenistic work, where doors (or grilles or fixed panels) had to be installed between the supporting members, as in the proskenia of Hellenistic theatres and in the upper storeys of Hellenistic stoas.9 Furthermore, some Doric interiors of the late fifth and fourth centuries are not simply non-Doric, but are either a mixture of Ionic and Corinthian or entirely Corinthian. A very early example of the mixed style is the interior of the temple of Apollo at Bassai, with Ionic half-columns along each side of the nave, and either one or three Corinthian capitals at the back.10 At Bassai, however, Corinthian is still regarded merely as a decorative variant of Ionic; thus, the Corinthian and Ionic capitals supported a common entablature.

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times Some sixty to seventy years later, in the new temples at Tegea and Nemea, Corinthian has become an independent order in its own right, and one of greater decorative interest than Ionic; it was therefore used for the lower and larger of the two interior orders. At Nemea, indeed, where the interior orders were free-standing, the small upper order consisted of Ionic halfcolumns attached to piers. There seems to be little doubt that the use of superimposed (Ionic over Corinthian) orders at Nemea was inspired by the slightly earlier temple of Alea Athena at Tegea, designed by Skopas.11 Superimposed orders at Tegea were first suggested by B.H. Hill, and a fragment of Ionic half-column has now been identified by N. Norman; it also seems likely that the rear as well as the side walls of the Tegea cella were decorated in this way.12 Such complex columnar ornament now seems fairly typical of the period ca. 350–300, in which ornamental half-columns became increasingly common in both exteriors and interiors, as in the Philippeion, the Monument of Lysikrates, and the Lion Tomb at Knidos (figs. 193, 185, 203). By the end of the century superimposed decorative orders, with a larger number of smaller Ionic over a smaller number of larger Doric members, were beginning to appear even on facades, as on the great tomb at Lefkadhia, possibly before 300 (figs. 217–18), and on the city facade of the Gate of Zeus and Hera on Thasos.13 At the beginning of the fourth century, Theodoros had combined a Doric exterior with Corinthian interior in the Tholos at Delphi, where full Corinthian columns stood right against the inner face of the cella wall, in an essentially ornamental role (fig. 187).14 Corinthian interiors evidently became very popular with architects at Epidauros, if Roux is correct in restoring similar ornamental columns in the cella of the temple of Asklepios,15 built between 380 and 370. Perhaps as early as the sixties, and certainly by the third quarter of the century, free-standing (though richly ornamental) Corinthian columns were used in the Tholos at Epidauros (figs. 189– 91); and such columns have also been proposed for the interior of the later-fourth-century temple of Artemis in the same sanctuary.16 The temple of Zeus at Stratos, probably begun ca. 320 and

221

never completely finished, certainly had a freestanding interior order. This order was not only non-Doric, but also served to give the nave of the short square cella a more traditional longitudinal emphasis. For this interior both Ionic and Corinthian columns have been suggested, and it has been thought that the designer may also have intended to include an interior figure-frieze; the interior arrangements, however, require further study.17 In any event, the tradition of ‘pure Doric’ clearly disappeared during the fourth century, and combinations of orders became quite acceptable. By the last third of the century Corinthian had made its first appearance as an exterior (although still purely ornamental) order, on the Monument of Lysikrates at Athens; and in the Philippeion at Olympia the Doric exterior and Corinthian interior of earlier tholoi were superseded by the more decorative combination of Ionic and Corinthian (figs. 192–3). Moreover, in the entablature of both the Philippeion and the Monument of Lysikrates an Attic-Ionic friezeband was combined with Eastern Ionic dentils – yet another sign of the breaking down of traditional regional and stylistic differences. It has even been suggested that these two monuments might be products of a single tradition. The combination of similarities and differences between them, however, seems rather to favour Stella Miller’s attribution of the Philippeion to an eclectic designer, probably of Macedonian origin.18 Combinations of different types of column in a single building, and increasing Ionic influence on Doric, are not the only signs of the disappearance of traditional regional differences. Against the steadily increasing use of Ionic decoration in Doric contexts, there must be set the tremendous popularity of Doric for tombs and civic architecture in the Ionic regions of Asia Minor. R.A. Tomlinson has argued convincingly that the supposed decline of Doric in Hellenistic times was largely a fiction of the anti-Doric propaganda of East Greek architects of the period.19 In fact, two of the major themes in the history of the columnar orders from ca. 350 onward are, first, the steadily increasing penetration of Ionic forms into Doric and, second, the resurgence of Doric

222

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

in contexts that had virtually no place in Greek monumental architecture before the middle of the fourth century. We have noted examples of the first development as early as the Parthenon period. Indeed, even in later Archaic times the Older Parthenon had base mouldings of Ionic profile for cella walls and antae; and a similar wall base may already have been used in the sixth-century temple of Apollo at Delphi, as it certainly was in its fourth-century successor. On the other hand, the treatment of the fourth-century temple at Delphi may have been inspired by the modest, though rather conspicuous, Ionicizing ornament of the wall base of the slightly earlier Tholos in the Marmaria (figs. 187–8).20 In any case, the new Delphic temple and Tholos were plain indeed when compared with the elaborate wall bases and crowns, combinations of different coloured materials, and elaborate and richly decorated sima and coffering of the Tholos at Epidauros (fig. 190), built during the years from ca. 360/55 to 330/25.21 As suggested above, the incorporation of Ionic ornament in the exteriors of Doric buildings was probably an attempt to compensate for the disappearance of the massive and imposing forms of earlier Doric. Late Classical Doric must have seemed increasingly ‘featureless’ in an age in which surface ornament was more and more highly regarded for its own sake, rather than as part of an overall design (a change already present in the Erechtheion). Architects therefore tried to restore life and interest to the Doric order by borrowing decorative details from Ionic, where the long-standing tradition of richly carved ornament provided an obvious source of inspiration. Such borrowing was doubtless further encouraged by the increasing popularity of Doric in the secular and tomb architecture of Asia Minor. By contrast, Eastern Ionic architects in Asia Minor may have valued Doric not only as a ‘simple’ order suitable for plain secular buildings, but also as a foil for the decorative effects of Ionic. In part, then, the Doric invasion of Asia Minor may have been another consequence of increased use of the columnar orders as an overall decorative scheme, rather than as elements that were primarily structural.

The buildings discussed in earlier chapters have provided many illustrations of the interaction of Doric and Ionic. We have seen that the comparatively widely spaced columns of Classical Athenian Doric were inspired by the lighter forms of Ionic. Yet as Doric columns grew more and more slender, they required a lower and lighter superstructure; eventually, the traditional shape and proportions of Doric triglyphs and metopes could be maintained only by increasing the number of units in each span. In short, the multiplication of triglyphs in the Doric frieze was an inevitable end result of the adoption of ‘Ionicizing’ proportions for Doric columns and interspaces.22 Of course, polytriglyphy also enhanced the decorative contrast of alternating elements, at a time when figure carving in the metopes was becoming rarer even in temples, and was not used in secular buildings such as stoas. At the same time, the two-storeyed stoas favoured by Pergamene architects provided further opportunities for combinations of different types of column, as in the Stoas of Eumenes and Attalos at Athens (figs. 145, 163, 175, 180).23 The Harbour Stoa and South Agora of Miletos (figs. 166, 183–4, 167) and (probably) the shaped stoa in the agora of Priene (fig. 120) illustrate yet another combination of structure and ornament in a secular context, that is, the use of cordiform piers (two half-columns engaged in adjacent faces of a square pier) to carry the colonnade around an internal angle. The cordiform pier offered an interesting contrast to the regular columns, while at the same time providing additional strength at the corner, and also carrying the frieze around the angle without requiring either the lengthening of the corner spans or the elimination of a triglyph.24 It is most unlikely that such adjustments in the traditional forms of Doric would ever have taken place while the order was still used primarily for temples; the colonnades of the agora, however, needed to be as open and uncluttered as possible, while still retaining a reasonable degree of monumentality and decorative interest. One of the most important and interesting buildings of Hellenistic Miletos was the new council-house, presented to the city by two courtiers of Antiochos IV of Syria (figs. 324–6).25

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times The main elements of the complex were a Corinthian propylon, an open court surrounded by Doric colonnades on three sides (interrupted in the middle of one side by the inner porch of the propylon), and the council-house proper, which was decorated on the exterior with half-columns, and had four interior Ionic columns supporting the framework of the roof. Thus, three different types of column were combined in a single design. Moreover, while the free-standing columns of the courtyard had plain shafts and relatively simple Hellenistic Doric capitals, the halfcolumns that decorated the walls of the council chamber were much more elaborate. The echinus was carved with an Ionic egg-and-dart, the abacus had a small projecting moulding along the upper edge (fig. 326), and the Doric triglyphand-metope frieze was surmounted by a row of Ionic dentils. This intermingling of Doric and Ionic forms is not uncommon in Hellenistic work, for instance, in the slightly later Doric entablature of the Sacred Stoa at Priene (fig. 160). At Miletos, however, the Doric half-capitals of the council-house seem to have been copied directly from the capitals of the Karyatids in the South Porch of the Erechtheion at Athens. Such deliberate echoes of earlier forms and themes occur frequently in the architecture and sculpture of the Hellenistic period,26 and were doubtless due in part to the desire of various Hellenistic monarchs to represent themselves as the direct heirs of the traditions of Classical Greece. The orders are combined in yet another way in the early-second-century propylon and stoas of the sanctuary of Athena at Pergamon. Both stoas and propylon were two-storeyed, with Doric columns in the lower storey and Ionic in the upper (figs. 70b–2); the intercolumnar spaces of the upper storey were partly closed by balustrades, the outer faces of which were carved with military equipment and insignia, as befitted victory monuments offered to Athena the Bringer of Victory (Nikephoros).27 The entablature of the upper storey of the propylon was Ionic, though (as often in Hellenistic work) with a two-fascia architrave instead of the three fasciae of Classical Ionic. The more or less normal Ionic of the upper storey set off the propylon clearly from the adjoining stoas, where the entablature of the sec-

223

ond storey was a ‘mixed’ creation in the Hellenistic style, with a Doric triglyph-and-metope frieze inserted between Ionic architrave and dentils. In both lower orders the slender Doric columns carried a frieze with three triglyphs over each interval; in the upper storey of the stoas there were four triglyphs per interval. Hellenistic architects experimented extensively with leaf capitals. Most of these were variants of Corinthian; within the Pergamene sphere, however, Corinthian is virtually unknown, its place perhaps usurped by various forms of leafcapital developed by Pergamene designers from the leaf-capitals of the Archaic period (fig. 180). A considerable amount of the development of Corinthian took place at Epidauros during the fourth and third centuries. The fluted cauliculus, introduced into Corinthian by Skopas in the temple of Athena at Tegea (apparently inspired by the cauliculi of acanthus-scroll simas), was not adopted by Epidaurian architects; they did, however, substitute a flower above the helices for the central palmettes used earlier in the Corinthian capitals at Bassai and in the Tholos at Delphi.28 The Epidaurian designers also introduced the kyma-profiled frieze-band that later became so popular in Ionic-Corinthian entablatures.29 Elsewhere in the Hellenistic world, other experiments with different forms of Corinthian were carried out; it is clear that Corinthian capitals were very slow in achieving anything like a ‘standard’ form. One of the most unusual variants occurs in the temple of Zeus Olbios at Uzuncaburc¸ in Cilicia (figs. 98–9); there werefour fluted cauliculi on each face, the inner pair crossing each other and curving back to form the helices. This design might have been very interesting from the decorative viewpoint, had it not been marred by the unattractively stiff and heavy stems and spirals. The recurved cauliculi may have been inspired by Alexandrian work.30 Despite the many variant forms of Corinthian that appear during the Hellenistic period, the development of the order is in some ways fairly consistent, with the leaf-ornament moving further and further up the bell. The half-capitals from Didyma, of the later third century, are still closely related to later-fourth-century forms (fig. 28); but already by the mid-third century the

224

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

leaf-girdle sometimes extends so far up the bell that the helices growing out of it push the central flower on each face partly on to the abacus (figs. 416–17). As we have seen, the most important single influence in the formation of normal Corinthian of Roman Imperial times was probably that of the capitals of the Athenian Olympieion, designed in the second quarter of the second century (figs. 102–3). Archaeologists disagree as to which of the extant capitals should be assigned to the time of Antiochos IV of Syria; and the longaccepted view that some work was done on the building under Augustus has been challenged by Travlos.31 Thus, some scholars regard all the post-Hellenistic capitals as Hadrianic, while others see them as at least partly Augustan. In any event, it is clear that the Roman capitals, whatever their date, took their Hellenistic predecessors as their model; and we know from literary sources that members from this building were sent to Rome by Sulla in the early first century BC.32 The surviving exterior capitals of the Olympieion have all the characteristic features of Roman Corinthian: the leaf-girdle extends well over halfway up the bell, the stems of volutes and helices spring from fluted and slightly twisted cauliculi, the upper borders of the helices are tangent to the bottom edge of the abacus, and the central flower, supported on a sturdy stem springing up from the leaf-girdle, lies on the face of the abacus.33 The Athenian capitals seem to represent an Antiochene, or at least a Seleukid, tradition. Yet it is clear that even in the time of Antiochos IV there was still no accepted single form of Corinthian; thus, the capitals of the council-house propylon at Miletos (fig. 417) are markedly different in style from those of the Olympieion, although containing substantially the same elements. Moreover, Corinthian capitals from Alexandria are almost always ‘heterodox’ in character; and those of the temple at Uzuncaburc¸ may be a mixture of Alexandrian and Seleukid ideas.34 The late Classical and Hellenistic periods also witnessed important developments in the history of the Ionic order. The most significant figures in this development seem to have been, first, Peloponnesian architects of the late fifth

and earlier fourth centuries, then Pytheos and his fellow Ionians during the middle and later fourth century, and subsequently Hermogenes, also a native of Ionia, from the late third into the second century.35 The theoretical and practical work of the Ionians, from Pytheos to Hermogenes, greatly influenced the formation of the Roman theory of Ionic, one Augustan form of which is preserved for us in the pages of Vitruvius.36 Yet it seems likely that Vitruvius may have been less dependent on the Hellenistic tradition of Asia Minor than has sometimes been thought; and other Greek designers than those mentioned above doubtless made significant contributions to the development of both Hellenistic and Roman Ionic. Among the innovations that later became very common in Roman work, one of the earliest was the ‘four-cornered,’ or ‘diagonal,’ Ionic, that is, the capital with a pair of volutes on each of the four faces. This form of Ionic seems to have been an Argive invention of the late fifth century, and was popular for the capitals of half-columns attached to piers, as in the cella of the temple at Bassai and in the proskenion of the theatre at Epidauros,37 probably built ca. 300–280.38 Diagonal Ionic was not widely accepted until Roman times; during the Hellenistic period the dominant influence was that of Classical Athenian work. In Ionic entablatures, the combination of Attic figure-frieze and Eastern Ionic dentils was at least as old as the Philippeion at Olympia and the Monument of Lysikrates at Athens (fig. 185); the combination was perhaps suggested by nonGreek monuments such as the Nereid Monument at Xanthos in Lykia (fig. 56), where the Eastern Ionic dentils surmounted a figure-frieze carved on the architrave. Of the Greek examples, the Philippeion is the earlier by some three or four years.39 The architect was probably a Macedonian; and Macedonian architecture had long had connections with the Eastern Ionic world, as well as with both Athenian and non-Athenian work on the Greek mainland.40 During the Hellenistic period Attic and Eastern Ionic forms were also combined in Ionic and Corinthian column bases by placing a circular base of Attic profile on an Eastern Ionic plinth.41 Already in the Philippeion the bottom

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times member of the Attic-Ionic base is replaced by an Eastern Ionic plinth (fig. 193); in late Hellenistic times the complete Attic-Ionic base on Eastern plinth perhaps became ‘canonical’ as a result of its use by Hermogenes, for instance, in the temple of Artemis at Magnesia (fig. 43). However, such bases occur sporadically in the later fourth and third centuries, as in the Amyntas Tomb at Telmessos in Lykia (Ionic) and the mausoleum at Belevi (Corinthian) (figs. 214, 206).42 It is possible that the combination won acceptance as a result of its use in Corinthian, which had usually been closely associated with the Attic-Ionic base. Thus, in the temple at Didyma, while the two Corinthian columns in the ‘oracle-room’ had regular Attic-Ionic bases, the half-columns at the head of the great stairway at the eastern end of the walled court have Eastern plinths set into the topmost step, under the Attic-Ionic bases (figs. 25–6). Whatever its origins, Hellenistic practice in such matters anticipated that of the Romans, who habitually set a square plinth under a circular base derived from the Attic-Ionic tradition. Many developments in Hellenistic Ionic were due to the desire for more elaborate ornament. Leaf or related patterns frequently replaced the simple Classical fluting of the crowning torus; the bases of the temples at Sardis and Magnesia are familiar examples (figs. 418–19). The intricate patterns and pairing of the Roman bases on the eastern facade of the temple at Didyma are simply the end result of the abandonment of traditional forms in favour of richness and variety of ornament. Similarly, the leaf ornament that had once been limited to a band (of varying width) in the middle of each end face of the capital, as in the temple at Priene and the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos, eventually spread over the entire end of the bolster, as in the Magnesia temple and other late Hellenistic monuments (cf. fig. 4a with fig. 42).43 On the front and back faces of the capital, the echinus with its carved ornament grows steadily in importance at the expense of the canalis above; and once the practice of carving on the face of the abacus becomes generally accepted, this member also increases in height, and was subdivided into a moulding crowned by a fillet, as at Magnesia. By contrast, the height of the volute channel (the canalis)

225

steadily decreases in relation to the width from eye to eye. At the same time, some Hellenistic architects experimented with the idea of carved flowers and rinceaux in the canalis, between the volutes. This innovation was probably due to Macedonian architects, since pre-Hellenistic examples are found in Thrace (fig. 420).44 In the temple at Sardis (figs. 48a–b), although the floral designs vary from period to period, even the earliest capitals (probably work of the turn of the fourth and third centuries) have decorated volute-channels. Here again, the Roman east facade at Didyma, in which the angle Ionic capitals had busts carved in the circle of the volutes, was simply a further development of an idea that originated in Hellenistic times.45 From the point of view of design, the increasing prominence of the echinus and abacus in Ionic capitals resulted in the canalis being compressed, or squeezed, between the elements above and below; the course of this development is well illustrated by our figures 10 (fourth century), 9 and 35 (third century), 42 (second century), and 80 (Augustan). In the end the echinus took over so much of the space once occupied by the canalis, that the ends of the bolster hung down far below the bottom border of the echinus. At this point there was no longer room for the echinus to continue as a complete member under the bolster, between the front and back faces of the capital. Instead, these sections of the echinus became merely vestigial, and were later completely suppressed. The disappearance of the echinus as a complete member under the ends of the bolster is a useful chronological indicator; there seem to be no examples of a complete echinus after the late third century, except in cases where the architect was imitating an earlier design.46 Hellenistic designers were equally non-traditional in their handling of the Ionic entablature; many of them would not have subscribed to the cut-and-dried system recorded by Vitruvius. In the fourth century two-fascia architraves seem to appear only in non-Greek contexts, such as the Heroon at Limyra (fig. 198) and the Hekatomnid buildings at Labraynda;47 but Hellenistic examples are common, as on the facade of the Rhomaios Tomb at Vergina (fig. 215), in the upper

226

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

storeys of both propylon and stoas of the Athena sanctuary at Pergamon (figs. 71–2), as well as in many of the rock-cut facades of Hellenistic tombs in Lykia.48 The reduction in the number of fasciae may originally have been suggested by the normal Greek treatment of the inner face of the architrave and of the faces of stone ceilingbeams, or else by the increasing trend toward enlargement of the upper fascia (or of the upper two fasciae) at the expense of the lowest. This latter tendency reversed the earlier practice of having all three fasciae equal in height or else the highest fascia at the bottom, and is clearly illustrated in the Monuments of Aristaineta, Prusias, and Aemilius Paullus at Delphi (figs. 19a– b),49 the Ionic temple of Asklepios on Kos,50 the propylon of the council-house at Miletos, and the porch of the Tower of the Winds at Athens. The above groups of monuments, together with the naiskos in the walled court at Didyma, the Ptolemaion on Samothrace, and the temple of Artemis at Magnesia, also show a considerable diversity in the relative heights of architrave and frieze (figs. 134–5, 42). Finally, as the combination of dentils and figure-frieze won general acceptance, the dentils are often treated simply as the first step in the projection of the cornice, thus to some extent anticipating the elaborate cornices of Roman times. Of course, as soon as the dentils are treated as part of the cornice, they may logically be used under raking as well as horizontal cornices.51 Hellenistic architects also developed new types of, and new uses for, half-columns attached to piers. For example, at Pergamon the entrance from the upper storey of the North Stoa of the Athena precinct into the Library was a thoroughgoing mixture of Doric and Ionic – perhaps intended as a foil to the Doric-Ionic mixture of the stoas themselves and of the propylon.52 In the entrance to the Library, the half-columns were Doric, the superstructure Ionic (fig. 143), whereas in the upper storeys of stoas and propylon the order was Ionic (propylon) or Ionic with a Doric frieze (stoas) (figs. 71–2). The new gateway to the stadium at Olympia (fig. 131), perhaps built as early as the end of the third century BC, had a combination of free-standing columns with inwardfacing half-columns attached to piers; the lateral

faces of the Corinthian capitals could thus be completed on the piers, instead of having a Corinthian half-capital run dead against the face of a wall.53 The architects of the Hellenistic age ‘tampered’ with the orders in yet another manner, again as a result of treating the various elements simply as decorative details capable of an endless variety of combinations. In the earlier history of Ionic, decorative friezes, whether with figures or formal ornament, had sometimes been used in the form of a dado along the lower part of the wall. In later Archaic work figure-friezes had been inserted between the architrave and the cornice, as in the Siphnian Treasury at Delphi; and the Doric architrave had been used as a field for relief sculpture in the Archaic temple at Assos in the Troad.54 In Classical Athenian work figure-friezes between architrave and cornice were commonplace. Even when used in unusual locations, as in the Parthenon and the Hephaisteion or in the front pteroma of the new temple at Cape Sounion, the Attic-Ionic figure-frieze was still associated with the course between architrave and cornice. Yet the tradition of figurefriezes in other locations had clearly not died out in Asia Minor, the original homeland of Ionic; in the non-Greek context of the Nereid Monument at Xanthos, in the early fourth century, and in the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos, designed ca. 360 by a Greek architect, Pytheos, continuous friezes were used on the podia (figs. 56, 200–1). Perhaps these Anatolian examples drew some of their inspiration from a Classical Athenian source, that is, the frieze on the parapet of the Nike temple on the Athenian Acropolis.55 From the mid-fourth to the second century, architects working in the Ionic order began to employ continuous friezes elsewhere than above the architrave for reasons that had less and less to do with variety of ornament. Where the main function of the figure-frieze was to serve as propaganda, designers must have realized that larger figures, located closer to the viewer, would have a much more powerful visual impact than could ever be achieved by a frieze over the architrave, no matter how large the scale of the building. An Ionic frieze of the same height as the metopes of the Parthenon, if set more than twenty metres above the ground in a building

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times such as the Ephesian Artemision, would have been both less impressive and harder to ‘read’ than the Doric frieze of the Athenian building. Even at the top of a podium as high as that of the Mausoleum, figure-friezes could have conveyed only a generalized impression of the subject matter and the style, as long as the friezes were as modest in scale as those of the Karian tomb; if mounted at higher levels they would have been virtually invisible. Jeppesen has suggested that one of the Mausoleum friezes stood at the top of the stepped base of the podium; once more, this placement may have been suggested to the designer by the frieze on the parapet around the platform of the Nike temple at Athens.56 If Jeppesen is correct, this prototype, together with examples of large-scale relief sculpture placed close to ground level (e.g., on the pedestals under some of the columns of the Ephesian Artemision; figs. 6, 8), may have inspired Hellenistic designers to ‘extract’ the Ionic frieze from its Classical Athenian position above the architrave, move it down close to ground level, and increase its scale, in order to produce a greatly enhanced visual effect. The outstanding example of this relocation is the Gigantomachy of the Great Altar of Zeus at Pergamon (fig. 85), built during the second quarter of the second century; yet much the same idea had already governed the placing of the Ionic frieze in the Lefkadhia tomb (late fourth century; fig. 218), and even in the Nereid monument (ca. 380; fig. 56). Hellenistic prototypes doubtless provided some of the inspiration for the later Roman use of large-scale reliefs on arches, tombs and elsewhere – a practice that certainly goes back to the early first century BC, possibly to the second, and conceivably even to the third, if a suggestion of G. Hafner regarding the reliefs of the ‘Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus’ is accepted.57 The frieze of the Pergamene Altar and related Hellenistic structures were in any case among the ancestors of Roman propaganda sculptures, in the matter both of motivation and of the technical and stylistic traditions involved. Similar propaganda effects are found in the reliefs of the outer face of the second-storey balustrade of the stoas of the Athena sanctuary at Pergamon, although in this case the motifs

227

were symbolic rather than narrative (figs. 71– 2).58 Of course the use of symbolic motifs also plays a large role in Roman art. On the other hand, the baroque exuberance of the frieze on the Great Altar, in which the struggling and writhing figures even climb the steps toward the altar platform, seems to have been typically Pergamene (fig. 85). From the last century BC through the early centuries of the Christian era we encounter an almost endless variety of decorative columnar details, especially in regions that lay on the fringes of the Hellenistic world. For example, despite the general preference for Ionic and Corinthian, Doric was still being used for temple designs in Syria during the Roman period, for instance, in the Doric peripteros at Qasr Nimrud. Yet it is clear that Doric columns were now felt to be excessively plain; thus the Qasr Nimrud designers (presumably non-Greek Syrians) imparted a new sort of harmony to their ‘Doric’ members by setting the columns on bases in the form of inverted ‘Doric’ capitals (fig. 421). In such bases, and also in Doric capitals, the echinus may be replaced by a flattened kymation.59 It is difficult to imagine an Aegean Greek architect ever using such forms; yet to non-Greek eyes these bases and capitals clearly had their own logic and symmetry. Interestingly enough, the Qasr Nimrud ‘inverted-capital’ form of base also occurs in the decorative Doric half-columns of the fire-temple at Kuh-i-Khwaja in southeastern Iran. An even more startling mixture of forms is found in the Doric columns culminating in Corinthian abaci of the temple at Konkobar.60 The mixing or modification (or both) of the Greek columnar orders that is so common in later temples and other monuments in Syria, obviously represents the continuation of a local tradition whose origins go far back into the Hellenistic past, and even beyond. Thus, simplified Ionic bases are found in the temples at Qasr Wadi, Nebi Safa, and Hibbariye; the order of the Bet Jalluk temple is Doric, but the capitals are modified by the addition at intervals around the top of the shaft of groups of leaves of the type found in Pergamene leaf-capitals; and the Ionic antae at Deir al-Ashair have a maeander band beneath the capital proper and small frontal heads

228

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

at the centres of the low channels of the volute members.61 These Roman monuments are clearly later, and even less pure, descendants of earlier buildings of unquestionably pre-Roman (i.e., Hellenistic) date, such as the Tomb of Hamrath at Suweida, of ca. 50 BC, the B’nei Hezir tomb in the Kidron Valley at Jerusalem of the later second century, and the even earlier Qasr el-Abd at Iraq al-Amir, now identified as a ‘chaˆ teau,’ or palace, of the Tobiad Hyrkanos (died 175), rather than a native temple (fig. 360).62 The Qasr el-Abd was decorated with a mixture of Hellenistic and Near Eastern forms. The porch had Corinthian columns and capitals; but above the cornice the walls were carved around the corners with lions in relief, a motif taken over from the old Near Eastern decorative tradition. The Tomb of Hamrath (fig. 422) consisted of a cube crowned by a pyramid, again an architectural type that was old in Semitic lands; but here, as in other Hellenistic examples, the square cube, or tower, was decorated on each of the four faces with Doric half-columns with plain shafts, that is, it was similar in design to Greek monuments such as the Lion Tomb at Knidos in southwestern Asia Minor (fig. 203). Butler remarks that the tomb was ‘built upon the simple classic lines of the architecture of the Seleukid kingdom, . . . in purely Greek form and style – not Greek of the best epoch, but altogether in keeping with the later style of Greek architecture in the East and Asia Minor.’63 Despite the inclusion both of native elements and of imported forms of non-Seleukid origin, the great temple-tombs of Nabataean Petra are probably best regarded primarily as descendants of this same Seleukid-Hellenistic style. Indeed, the Petra temple-tombs could well be described as ‘Hellenisticizing Nabataean,’ even though the later examples extend through the first century AD. The most famous of these monuments, the Khazne and the Deir, are variants of a single design: a columnar lower storey, supporting a complex scheme that consisted of a central tholos flanked by pairs of columns carrying bent and broken pediments. The Khazne, despite its unconventional elements, is still recognizably Corinthian. The Deir, however, has a pseudo-Ionic order beneath an upper storey with columns that

were perhaps designed as a sort of ‘CorinthianDoric,’ reminiscent of the Italic temple at Paestum; the upper columns supported a two-fascia architrave with Doric taenia and regulae, under a polytriglyphal Doric frieze.64 It may of course be safely assumed that there existed an ‘Antiochene court style’ that kept closer to the Greek mainstream than other Eastern Hellenistic monuments. Thus, we have seen that the richly decorated Doric capitals of the Hellenistic council-house at Miletos (fig. 326) were evidently directly inspired by the capitals of the Karyatid Porch of the Erechtheion at Athens. Yet it is also significant that this ornate version of Doric occurs in a building closely associated with Seleukid Syria; Aegean architects might well have shunned using such an elaborate form of Doric. The Milesian building also includes a band of Ionic dentils above a polytriglyphal frieze. The ultimate origin of this combination is uncertain; it occurs some twenty years before the building of the Milesian councilhouse in the Athena Stoas at Pergamon, and about twenty-five years later in the Sacred Stoa of the agora at Priene, probably a gift of Ariarathes VI of Kappadokia, whose dynasty had close ties with the Seleukid court at Antioch.65 In the non-Greek regions within the Seleukid sphere, the Greek orders were not only combined with each other, but also modified by the addition of non-Greek forms. The temple at Qasr Nimrud (fig. 421), the ‘Doric bases’ of which have already been mentioned, had a completely non-Doric entablature, consisting of an architrave divided into fasciae, and an IonicCorinthian pulvinated frieze crowned by a gigantic kyma moulding.66 This kyma seems to be a slightly Hellenized version of the large ‘torus’ crowned by an even larger cavetto that forms the cornice above the Doric frieze on the tower at Kalat Fakra. Throughout this latter monument elements drawn from different sources were used to create a ‘mixed’ order; for beneath the ‘mixed’ entablature were pairs of pilasters flanking free-standing piers, all with ‘PhoenicioCypriote’ capitals.67 It is perhaps worth mentioning at this point that the cavetto cornice is a common feature of Syro-Palestinian and Nabataean architecture; by

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times the Hellenistic period, at least, the cavetto set above a large roll, or torus, may be regarded as indigenous. Its ultimate Egyptian origin is of course not open to question. Yet it is probably wiser, at least in dealing with Hellenistic architecture, to avoid the term ‘Egyptian gorge,’ which may suggest borrowing from Hellenistic Egypt. In fact, the cavetto had been at home in the Syro-Palestinian area long before the Hellenistic age, perhaps most commonly in funerary monuments in the form of a cube surmounted by a pyramid. This type of monument, complete with large torus and cavetto at the top of the cube, is already found at Jerusalem in the preExilic period, in the tomb traditionally known as the ‘House of Pharaoh’s Daughter.’68 The late Hellenistic tomb architecture of Palestine provides further examples of the non-canonical treatment of the Greek orders, in the Ionic monuments in the Kidron Valley at Jerusalem known as the tombs of ‘Zachariah’ and ‘Absalom’ (figs. 423–4); both these structures probably belong in general terms to the period around the start of the Christian era. The basic form (a cube supporting a tapering upper storey) goes back, as noted above, to pre-Exilic times; but the Ionic architectural ornament and the quartercolumns engaged in angle-piers are obviously Hellenistic.69 Single Ionic quarter-columns engaged in the internal angles of rectangular piers are found as early as ca. 330–320 in the upper order of the cella of the temple of Zeus at Nemea; and ‘relief versions’ of such members appear on the facade of the Macedonian tomb at Langaza.70 Closer to the corner members of the Jerusalem buildings, however, is the type of columnar support found in earlier Hellenistic times at the internal angles of the tomb-courts of the Mustafa Pasha necropolis at Alexandria in Egypt (figs. 221–3). These Alexandrian examples, in turn, were relief versions of the free-standing supports used from the late fourth century onward at the internal angles of continuous stoas, as in the Harbour Stoa at Miletos (figs. 183–4).71 The earliest occurrence of such composite members as external elements may have been in Macedonian tomb facades, as at Langaza. Similar members, but engaged in the middle of a straight stretch of wall rather than in an external angle

229

(and thus appearing as half-columns on piers rather than quarter-columns), were used in the Corinthian order of the stadium-gate at Olympia; and Alexandria has produced many fragmentary examples of half- and quarter-columns on piers, the majority unfortunately of unknown context.72 Yet the case for an Alexandrian derivation of the angle members of the Jerusalem tombs would be a good deal stronger if there were other elements in the tombs that were certainly, or even probably, borrowed from Alexandrian or Ptolemaic sources. In fact, there seems to he no cogent evidence pointing in this direction. For example, the proportions of the Doric triglyphs and metopes of the B’nei Hezir and ‘Absalom’ tombs are as obviously non-Greek as the painted Doric frieze of Tomb I and the painted figures of Tomb II at Marissa;73 but all these features are probably best regarded as direct Syro-Palestinian adaptations of the Seleukid style. It now seems likely that Hellenistic architects in several different areas of the eastern Mediterranean chose to decorate external angles with relief versions of members originally designed as structural supports at internal angles. In the case of the tombs under discussion, Seleukid models are quite as likely as Alexandrian.74 Seleukid inspiration is also likely for the Ionic orders of the ‘Zachariah’ and ‘Absalom’ monuments. The Ionic capitals are clearly late Hellenistic in proportions; comparable proportions are found in many other Ionic orders of late Hellenistic date in Asia Minor, the Aegean, and Greece, as well as west of the Adriatic. The Ionic bases of the ‘Tomb of Absalom’ consist of a low plinth and torus surmounted by a higher kyma. This type of base is certainly not ‘normal’ Ionic, either in the Attic tradition or in that of Hermogenes’ temple of Artemis at Magnesia.75 Yet the chronology of Hellenistic combinations of Eastern and Attic elements in Ionic-Corinthian bases and entablatures (e.g., in the courtyard and naiskos of the Hellenistic Didymaion, figs. 25–6) may indicate that such combinations were another feature made popular by the architects of Seleukid Syria. Moreover, the combination of kyma or cavetto (instead of scotia) over torus is already present in the third quarter of the fourth century, in the decorative base of walls and half-columns in the

230

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

cella of the Skopas temple at Tegea (fig. 425); it probably originated in Peloponnesian architecture, and later spread to other regions.76 There is no reason to suppose that the idea reached Palestine by way of Alexandria rather than from Seleukid Syria. Combinations of Greek and non-Greek forms in non-Greek regions of the Hellenistic world sometimes indicate a misunderstanding of, or indifference to, both the Greek forms themselves and their underlying logic; some of the most extreme instances occur in Iran. The Ionic columns of the temple at Khurra stand on very unsightly bases, consisting of an excessively high double ‘plinth’ crowned by a torus larger than the upper plinth; moreover, as Herzfeld remarked, the great height of the shafts (some 11 l.d.) resulted from carrying over into stone construction a ‘habituation to over-slim wooden columns.’77 Similarly, at Istakhr there is a building with large columns that were intended to be Corinthian; the capitals, however, consist only of an acanthuscovered bell without an abacus. Furthermore, the half-columns in the interior of this building also lack abaci, and are bisected diagonally, so that one corner, rather than one side, projects from the surface of the wall in the form of a triangle. Such capitals were useless as supporting members; thus, the entablature above them was flush with the wall face.78 Yet the Istakhr capitals, and even more the fine example of Corinthian found at Ai-Khanum in Afghanistan (fig. 426),79 were doubtless ultimately the result of Seleukid architectural influence. Over eighty years ago S.B. Murray rightly emphasized the primacy of Hellenistic over Roman influences in the architecture of Roman Syria.80 Perhaps the Roman contributions were rather larger than he was willing to admit;81 yet by the standards of the Aegean world and of western Asia Minor, it is clear that even the Hellenistic style was scarcely more than a thin veneer, at least outside the major cities of the Seleukid kingdom; Hellenistic decorative forms may have been all-pervasive, but were often used in very un-Greek fashion. The increasing popularity of Corinthian from early Hellenistic times onward has often been attributed to Alexandrian influence;82 and Corinthian was certainly widely used by Alexandrian

designers. As a matter of fact, both in Ptolemaic and in Seleukid work, and also west of the Adriatic, Corinthian was much more popular, and more extensively employed, than in Greece, the Aegean, and western Asia Minor. Thus Seleukid, Ptolemaic, and western architects all made significant contributions to the dominant position of the Corinthian order from the later first century BC onward. Available evidence indicates that the Seleukid contribution was at least as important as that of any other region. Moreover, Syrian architects may have been more successful than others in developing versions of Corinthian that were acceptable to native (i.e., nonGreek) peoples, without necessarily violating the original logic of Corinthian design. In Greece proper, Corinthian is rare before late Hellenistic and Roman times, at least as a structural, and particularly an exterior structural, order. The free-standing Corinthian column in the cella of the temple of Apollo at Bassai, like the lateral half-columns, was essentially part of a rich decorative scheme; the same may be said of the Corinthian columns in the Tholos and some other buildings at Epidauros, in the Tholos at Delphi and the Philippeion at Olympia, in the temple at Tegea, and on the exterior of the Monument of Lysikrates at Athens (figs. 191, 190, 193, 185); and the interior orders of the temple at Nemea were evidently an adaptation of those at Tegea.83 At Athens, Corinthian was used in the early Hellenistic modifications of the Asklepieion;84 but the next major, and first structural exterior, occurrence is in the Olympieion (figs. 102–3), designed by a Roman architect in the service of Antiochos IV of Syria. In western Asia Minor, important earlier examples of Corinthian – for instance, in the great stairway of the walled courtyard of the Didymaion, the upper order of the Hellenistic mausoleum at Belevi, and the Laodike Building at Miletos (figs. 26, 28; 207; 416) – can often be definitely or plausibly associated with a non-local, and in many cases ‘Eastern Hellenistic,’ tradition; for the councilhouse propylon at Miletos (fig. 417) the Eastern Hellenistic association is quite definite.85 If Syrian associations are accepted for many of the monuments in the preceding paragraph, the Seleukids must have been promoting the use

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times of Corinthian in western Asia Minor, and thus presumably also in their own Syrian heartland, at least from the earlier third century onward. Although corroborative evidence from northern Syria is lacking for this period, the use of the Corinthian order at Ai-Khanum in Afghanistan, ca. 250 (fig. 426), must have been inspired by Seleukid prototypes; the Corinthian capitals of the Qasr el-Abd at Iraq al-Amir (fig. 360, probably early second century) seem to be a mixture of the Seleukid and Alexandrian styles.86 From ca. 175 onward, examples of Corinthian associated with the Seleukid regime are fairly numerous in the Aegean world and Anatolia. The councilhouse at Miletos, the Athenian Olympieion, and the temple at Uzuncaburc¸ are important examples; and the second of these three (figs. 102–3) was also influential in the development of Roman Corinthian. Among the buildings illustrated in Krencker’s and Zschietzschmann’s R¨omische Tempel in Syrien, a considerable number have roughed-out capitals and simplified entablatures, suggesting that these simplified forms were more acceptable either to native stonemasons, or else to native concepts of appropriate exterior ornament. Interior orders and the decoration of doorways were often rendered in much greater detail than those of the exterior; presumably this concentration of interest in the interior was part of the native religious outlook. It is true that at Baalbek the exterior capitals and entablature of the two large temples were executed in much greater detail than at most other Syrian sites; this situation may have been due to the direct influence of designers from Rome. Yet the plans of the buildings were still entirely in the Syro-Hellenistic tradition; and even at Baalbek the exterior columns have plain shafts, whereas the porch columns and interior order of the temple of Bacchus are fluted – again suggesting a Syrian preference for more elaborate treatment of the interior of the temple. It would be interesting to have more details extant from the Seleukid predecessor of the great temple at Baalbek, and to know whether the Roman treatment of the column-shafts simply copied that of Hellenistic times.87 The above discussion of Seleukid architectural achievements does not imply a denial of the

231

Alexandrian contribution to the development of the Corinthian order during the Hellenistic period. The Graeco-Roman Museum at Alexandria contains a large and important collection of Ionic and Corinthian capitals and other architectural members. Unfortunately, the majority of these members were chance finds, either lacking, or already removed from, any archaeological context by the time they came into the museum’s possession. The absence of external evidence for dating individual examples of Corinthian limits study of the material in question to attempts to establish stylistic trends and categories. Reliable chronology is thus virtually impossible to achieve; for example, while K. Ronczewski’s study of 1927 is still the basic work on Alexandrian Corinthian, some examples which he regarded as late work have been dated much earlier by Roux and Bauer.88 In such circumstances, we can never be sure whether similarities between Ptolemaic work and forms found outside Egypt are the result of Alexandrian influence, or whether the influence sometimes ran in the other direction. On the whole, it appears that Ptolemaic designers contributed little to the Hellenistic development of the Ionic capital, though Egyptian models may lie behind the late Hellenistic Ionic of the rectangular temple beside the Tiber at Rome.89 On the other hand, they did create a recognizable Ptolemaic-Hellenistic tradition in Corinthian. While the ‘normal’ Corinthian of late Republican and Imperial Rome was derived from Antiochene rather than Alexandrian models,90 the Ptolemaic version of Corinthian was clearly very widely employed over an area extending from southern Syria and Palestine to Libya, and perhaps even further west. The influence of the Ptolemaic form of Corinthian is still evident even in parts of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya that may be as late as the middle of the first century AD, that is, some three-quarters of a century after the Ptolemaic dynasty ended with the death of Cleopatra VII.91 Among the more striking features of Ptolemaic Ionic and Corinthian is the deep carving, or drilling, of the ornament. This quality is perhaps most common in the leaves of Corinthian capitals; but the Alexandria museum possesses

232

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

a fine pair of Ionic capitals in which the corner palmettes stand almost completely free of the egg-and-dart of the echinus.92 The bold projection of the fluted cauliculi of Corinthian capitals is probably another example of the same stylistic trait, as are also the recurved stems and tightly wound spirals of the helices of many Alexandrian capitals.93 Ptolemaic designers also borrowed decorative ideas and details from native Egyptian work. Egypt had of course long been a source of inspiration for Greek architects and stonemasons; in Hellenistic times the rich polychrome ornament of Ptolemaic Corinthian capitals was no doubt partly inspired by Egyptian models. In addition, Ptolemaic architects produced some very attractive Egyptianizing versions of Corinthian in which the leafgirdle was based on Egyptian forms rather than on the Greek acanthus. Ptolemaic capitals of this type are often much more attractive than some of the experiments encountered in Asia Minor and Syria.94 The half-column attached to a pier, although not a Hellenistic invention, was certainly one of the most widely used forms in the decorative repertoire of Hellenistic designers. We have seen that such members are ultimately derived from fifth-century models such as the interior of the temple of Apollo at Bassai, with its Ionic halfcolumns attached to spur-walls; a generation or so later, ca. 370, four Ionic half-columns attached to free-standing piers were set in the entrance to the cella of the third temple of Athena Pronaia at Delphi (fig. 415).95 Ionic half-columns attached to free-standing piers were also used in the upper storey of the L-shaped stoa at Perachora, which has been dated to the late fourth century.96 Although this date has been considered rather too early, it is not unreasonable; for ca. 330–320 the Ionic upper storey of the cella of the temple of Zeus at Nemea certainly contained both half-columns attached to the face of a rectangular pier and quarter-columns carved into one corner of the pier (fig. 427). No doubt the Nemea architect was anxious to provide sturdy supports for the beams of the ceiling without making the columnar elements excessively thick in proportion to their height. Presumably similar supports could have been used, for similar rea-

sons and in much the same period, in the upper storey of the stoa at Perachora. H. Busing holds ¨ that half-columns on piers, with the intercolumnar spaces partly closed by parapets, do not occur elsewhere before the third century;97 yet twostoreyed stoas must always have needed parapets in the intervals of the upper storey, to prevent people from falling out accidentally. Stoas of this type seem to have appeared before the end of the fourth century; Perachora may well be among the earliest examples. Busing also believes that half-columns on ¨ piers, with parapets in the intervals, have nothing to do with completely free-standing members of the same type. In his view, the halfcolumn engaged to a pier was substituted for a full column simply in order to facilitate the fastening of the slabs of the parapet. Half-columns on piers, however, obviously provided much stronger supporting members, without increasing the thickness of the columnar element in proportion to its height;98 this consideration could have been at least as important as simplifying the installation of the parapet. As noted earlier, the cordiform pier, used at the internal angles of agora stoas and domestic peristyles, was also designed, at least in part, to provide a sturdy support at points of special stress, while at the same time permitting a uniform spacing of both the columns and the elements of the Doric frieze. Since the cordiform pier was later used in Ionic and Corinthian contexts as well as in Doric, its structural and aesthetic merits must have been no less important than its special advantages when used in Doric, where the earliest known examples again date from the later fourth century. Doric half-columns on piers were regularly used on the proskenion facades of middle and late Hellenistic theatres. The use of Ionic, as in the theatres at Epidauros, Elis, and Dodona, is rather exceptional; its occasional use was perhaps another manifestation of the Hellenistic interest in ornamental detail. Half-columns on piers provided sturdy supports, with large bearingsurfaces, for the wide spans of the proskenion; as already noted, this same characteristic led to their use in the upper storeys of stoas. It is true that the painted panels (pinakes) mounted in the

From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament: The Columnar Orders in Hellenistic Times intervals of the proskenion colonnade could be more easily fastened to piers than to columns; but the most important consideration was surely the width of the intervals, which on occasion had to serve as practicable doorways. Wider intervals obviously required sturdier supports, or a lighter superstructure, or both; and the combination of half-column and pier could carry a heavier superstructure across a wider span than could a full column of the same base diameter as the half-column. Full columns in fact would necessarily have been either thicker, and therefore taller (perhaps to the point of making the overall height of the proskenion excessive), or else set closer together, in which case the intervals might have been too narrow to serve as practicable doorways. On the other hand, when the pinakes were in position, and the doors (if any) closed, only the slender half-columns would have been clearly visible, and would have appeared to perform without effort the difficult task of carrying a substantial entablature across a relatively wide span. The importance of such visual considerations in fourth-century and Hellenistic architecture is evident from the many and varied uses of halfcolumns attached to piers, as substantial supports with relatively slender ‘frontal’ proportions. This effect can already be seen in the third temple of Athena Pronaia at Delphi (fig. 415), and is further developed in the entranceway to the Library at Pergamon and the starting-gates of the stadium at Epidauros, both probably of the second century.99 Piers with half-columns engaged to both front and back faces are also frequent in Hellenistic contexts where the same visual effect was desired in both front and back views. Such ‘compound’ members are especially common in openings connecting a vestibule with a room beyond; for the intervals between supports could then be quite wide, while still presenting the appearance of slender columnar members toward both the vestibule and the main room. In the palace at Vergina, which probably dates from the earlier part of the third century, supports of this type are found both in the main entrance on the east side of the palace and in the entrance from the south colonnade of the great court to the complex

233

of rooms in the middle of the south side (figs. 348, 429).100 Similar members were used in the interior of the enlarged Stoa of Philip V on Delos, ca. 170 – again in order to present the aspect of columns toward both the eastern and western aisles of the enlarged building (fig. 153 no. 13).101 As already noted, on the facades of the upper storeys of the Stoas of Eumenes II and Attalos II at Athens composite supports were employed, consisting of ‘two-thirds columns’ attached to opposite faces of rectangular piers (fig. 145); the columnar elements ran from floor level to architrave on either side of the parapet. The large oblong capitals above these supports provided an ample bearing surface both for the stone entablature of the facade and for the complex roof structure abutting upon its inner face. Obviously simple columns could never have served all the structural and aesthetic requirements of this particular situation. Such ‘double twothirds-columns’ were evidently a Pergamene innovation; they were used as free-standing supports in the Great Altar at Pergamon itself.102 Half-columns attached to piers also appear, in a variety of contexts, ‘in relief’ rather than ‘in the round.’ For example, at the entrance to the shrine in the Hall of the Bulls on Delos (figs. 16, 428), Doric half-columns attached to pilasters faced inward on either side toward the free-standing members; the latter consisted of Doric half-columns attached to piers, the capitals of which took the form of bull protomes.103 We have already noted, in the stadium gate at Olympia Corinthian half-columns attached to pilasters, and facing inward toward a pair of freestanding Corinthian columns (fig. 131).104 On the facade of the Rhomaios tomb at Vergina (fig. 215), the use of pilasters-plus-half-columns provides a bolder relief for both the columnar elements and the entablature of the Ionic order.105 On the southern facade of the magazine outside the South Agora at Miletos (fig. 339), the pilasters project so boldly that the engaged columns almost seem to be detached from the wall behind.106 They thus anticipate the Roman treatment found in the cella of the temple of Bacchus at Baalbek; in the west facade of the Library of Hadrian at Athens the decorative columns are actually free-standing.107 We have observed above

234

Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

that the Langaza tomb in Macedonia had at the corners of the facade quarter-columns attached to slender antae – a sort of relief version of the half-columns engaged to pilasters in the stadium gate at Olympia. In the tombs of ‘Zachariah’ and ‘Absalom’ at Jerusalem (figs. 423–4),108 such members are applied to both sides of an external angle, producing a kind of ‘inside-out’ cordiform pier. The open courtyard of domestic architecture appears in various ‘relief’ forms in the hypogea of the Mustafa Pasha cemetery at Alexandria; at the corners of the ‘peristyle’ tomb we find ‘relief’ versions of the free-standing cordiform pier (fig. 221).109 Engaged pilasters and half-columns, with complete entablatures, were eventually used for decorative purposes even in military architecture, at such widely separated sites as Perge in southern Asia Minor, Selinus in Sicily (ca. 200–150 and 275 BC respectively), Paestum, and Pompeii (late Hellenistic). At Paestum the order is ‘mixed,’ in the manner of the earlier ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple in the forum (fig. 52), where ‘Corinthianizing’ figured capitals supported an essentially Doric entablature.110 An interesting feature of Hellenistic military architecture is the very practical use of arches and vaults in towers, gateways, and artillery emplacements; again, examples occur in widely separated areas of the Hellenistic world, from Isaura and Sillyon in southern Asia Minor to South Italy and Sicily.111 Moreover, arches and vaults, in one form or another, are found in numerous other Hellenistic monuments, many of them mentioned elsewhere in this volume, for instance, in the Agora Gate and the Assembly Hall at Priene, in the structure enclosed in the podium of the Great Altar at Pergamon, in the end walls of the Stoa of Attalos, and behind the back wall of the Stoa of Eumenes at Athens, in the water cisterns of Delos (fig. 364), over the stairwells of the gymnasium at Pergamon, and

in the vestibules and main chambers of Macedonian tombs; some of the last-named group are the earliest extant examples of vaulting on a monumental scale in the Greek world. Some of these monuments also included columnar facades or decorative half-columns and piers; yet the Hellenistic tradition offers few, if any, examples of the arch combined with columnar elements, a feature that is common in Roman architecture from the early first, if not from the second, century onward. The examples in the Letoon theatre near Xanthos are quite unusual (fig. 63);112 they have been dated ca. 100 BC, and may thus reflect Roman influence. Hellenistic architects seem generally to have thought it necessary to keep arches and vaults quite separate from the rectilinear forms of the columnar orders; preferably, they should be either invisible from the outside, or at least inconspicuous by comparison with the columnar facades. In short, the latter, whether structural or merely decorative, remained the most widely accepted type of monumental facade. Thus, the Hellenistic world never realized, as the Romans were subsequently to do, the potential for new and original designs based on the combination of arches and vaults with decorative half-columns or free-standing colonnades. Nevertheless, Hellenistic architects were instrumental in converting the normally rigid, and frequently awkward, details of the Archaic and Classical orders into a rich and highly flexible decorative idiom. In so doing, they laid much of the foundation for the Roman, and ultimately for the Renaissance, use of the orders. Interestingly enough, while the Romans, in architecture as in sculpture, reserved much of their admiring comment for the famous monuments of the Classical age of Greece, they usually borrowed their techniques and ornament from the vigorous and flourishing Hellenistic tradition of the late third and second centuries.113

Conclusion

A. HELLENISTIC ARCHITECTS, ENGINEERS, AND TECHNICAL WRITERS In today’s technological world the architect is a highly trained professional – the colleague and collaborator, and often the superior, of the engineering specialist. In the eyes of government and large business corporations, architects generally enjoy much higher standing and prestige than do sculptors or painters. For the world of ancient Greece, at least until late Classical times, the position of the architect was very different, and his ‘professional standing,’ if it existed at all, was certainly far inferior to that of the sculptor or painter. In part, this situation stemmed from the fact that the work of early sculptors and painters was produced in a religious milieu, in which magic played a considerable role. A carved or painted image could be transformed by the magic of incantations, and later also by the still more potent magic of inscriptions, into the actual substance of the things, persons, or deities that the artist had tried to represent. Even in religious contexts the role of the builder was much more prosaic; he merely provided the physical housing, in one particular location, for a magically transformed image. His work was permanently earthbound, whereas that of the painter and sculptor could be freed by the power of magic from the limitations of time and space. As Greek religion, and with it Greek art, grew more anthropocentric, Greek artists began to explore the possibilities of a more naturalistic rendering of human figures, whether nude or

draped. Between ca. 525 and 400 Greek sculptors broke out of the canons and conventions that had governed earlier representations of the human figure, and created a new and startlingly naturalistic style; during the succeeding century a similar revolution took place in Greek painting. These achievements initially reinforced the greater prestige of sculptors and painters, as compared with architects. The Greeks were clearly fascinated by the sculptor’s ability to make a living man out of stone or bronze,1 and by that of the painter to transform a flat, two-dimensional surface into unlimited threedimensional space, filled with people, animals, and landscape details. Again, the architect could offer no comparable feats of legerdemain. His often exquisite studies in exterior form and proportion were frequently too subtle, and perhaps too large in scale, for easy comprehension. Agatharchos’s commentary on his rendering of the facades of buildings in perspective, in a painted backdrop for the theatre, inspired Demokritos and Anaxagoras to investigate the mathematical principles of such representations; and Virgil paid ungrudging tribute to the Greek achievement in naturalistic figure sculpture, acknowledging without reserve Rome’s debt to Greece in this area.2 We know that Iktinos wrote a book on the Parthenon;3 but there is no record of his work ever serving as the starting point for a contemporary mathematical and philosophical

236 investigation of the theoretical basis of Greek architectural practice. Indeed, Plutarch’s eloquent commentary on the quality of the Periklean building program focuses much more attention on Perikles himself, and on Pheidias, than on Iktinos.4 It is significant, too, that the extant works of Greek and Latin literature tell us far more about sculptors and painters, and their works, than about architects.5 Some architects’ names were preserved only in the local traditions recorded by writers such as Pausanias, for instance, Libon at Olympia, Iktinos at Bassai, Eupolemos at Argos, Skopas at Tegea;6 Theodotos’s activity at Epidauros and Kallikrates’ association with the temple of Nike on the Athenian Acropolis are known only from inscriptions.7 In general it seems clear that the Greek and Roman ‘reading public’ was far less interested in architecture than in the representational arts,8 and accorded less respect to the architect than to the sculptor or the painter. Of course, publishing architects clearly had a better chance of being remembered by, and even of influencing, later generations, than did those who chose not to write on their work; thus, Vitruvius specifically regrets that the designers of some famous buildings had left no accounts of their theories and works.9 When such writers ventured into fields beyond their own specialty, they might be severely criticized. The town planner Hippodamos was censured by Aristotle for his political theories;10 and Vitruvius records the story of Alexander’s critique, on practical grounds, of Deinokrates’ dramatic scheme for a new city on Mt Athos.11 Nevertheless, the theoretical treatises of outstanding personalities, such as Pytheos and Hermogenes, were clearly studied with close attention by later professional architects and writers such as Vitruvius; and Cicero was impressed by the eloquence of Philo’s book on the Peiraieus arsenal.12 In fact, Vitruvius’s list of architects who had written about their own works, or about architecture in general, includes a large percentage of the total number of ancient Greek architects who are known to us by name.13 Yet even in these instances we often have no idea of the specific contents of the books mentioned by the

Conclusion Roman writer. For example, one would like to think that Iktinos’s book on the Parthenon contained something comparable to Polykleitos’s exposition of the theoretical basis of the design of the Doryphoros, or some architectural equivalent of the remark of the painter Eupompos about taking nature as his model, or of Lysippos’s comparison of ‘naturalism’ in his own work and in that of other artists;14 but there is no evidence that such was the case. Of the Vitruvian list of architectural writers, some clearly wrote Commentaries (Pytheos), detailed discussions of proportions in particular buildings (Pytheos and Satyros on the Mausoleum, Hermogenes on the temples at Magnesia and Teos), or general studies of proportions in temples or in the columnar orders (Philo of Eleusis on temple proportions, Silenos on Doric proportions, Arkesios on the Corinthian order, Hermogenes on temples and on the orders). It is perhaps significant that most of these men are known to have lived during or after the middle years of the fourth century BC. Moreover, the earliest datable writer on mechanics mentioned by Vitruvius is Alexander’s engineer Diades; presumably other engineers and authors known to us by name also wrote after 350. On the other hand, several, perhaps all, of Vitruvius’s writers on symmetria were sculptors and painters. Such treatises were at least as old as the Canon of Polykleitos; and this work may not have been the first of its kind. By contrast, the book of Rhoikos and his son Theodoros, on the temple of Hera at Samos, was probably an account of the technical problems encountered and solved during the construction of this building; probably the same was true of the treatise of Chersiphron and Metagenes on the Artemision at Ephesos; and we cannot be certain that Iktinos and Karpion discussed the theoretical basis of the design of the Parthenon. It is true that Vitruvius mentions Silenos’s study of the symmetriai of Doric buildings before Theodoros’s work on Samos; but the names are clearly not arranged in strict chronological order, since the temple of Athena at Priene comes before the Parthenon and the Tholos at Delphi. Silenos’s work in fact seems much more typical of the numerous theoretical treatises on architecture and the arts pub-

Conclusion lished in the fourth century and early Hellenistic times; it should probably not be dated earlier than ca. 350. Pytheos’s condemnation of the Doric order may in fact have been a response to Silenos,15 or Silenos may have been reacting to the strictures of the East Greek architect. Thus, Vitruvius’s opinions on Greek architectural theory and practice will have been based entirely on the work of the later Greek theorists, none of whom lived and wrote earlier than the beginning of the new era ushered in by Philip and Alexander. We have noted in an earlier chapter that Pytheos seems to have been the first architect in the Greek world to set out a detailed theoretical approach to the problems of temple design, based on a complex set of mathematical interrelationships; this sort of approach was taken up and further developed by his East Greek successors. Arkesios extended the investigation from the Ionic to the Corinthian order; and during the latter half of the fourth century Philo, and probably also Silenos, laid the foundations of a coherent theory of Doric design. To judge from his prominence in the pages of Vitruvius, the work of Hermogenes marked the culmination of Hellenistic architectural theory as applied to temples. Pytheos had already stressed the relevance of architecture to other spheres of professional activity; he may perhaps be seen as the first known exponent, in the history of Western civilization, of architecture as ‘the mistress of the arts.’ In the light of Hellenistic and Roman experience, Vitruvius felt obliged to renounce such sweeping claims; but he did emphasize the importance of study in other fields for the education of the truly professional architect.16 In endorsing this view he seems to have been following in the footsteps of Pytheos and Hermogenes, and probably also of Arkesios. The dangers of inadequate all-round training are certainly brought into sharp focus by his story of Deinokrates and Alexander mentioned above, and by his account of the devastating criticisms that the mathematician Likymnios levelled at the design executed by Apatourios of Alabanda on the stage-building of the small theatre at Tralles.17 By the later fourth century a distinction already seems to have been made between trained

237 architects and trained engineers – a distinction that evidently became sharper during the Hellenistic age. It cannot be accidental that there is virtually no overlap between Greek architects and architectural writers on the one hand and Greek engineers and engineering theorists on the other. Vitruvius described Epimachos, who designed and built a gigantic siege-tower for Demetrios Poliorketes at Rhodes, as a ‘famous Athenian architect’; and the ‘Alexandrine architect’ Trypho supervised the countermines dug by the defenders of a city named Apollonia.18 Yet neither of these men is associated in our sources with any known buildings. The practical work of those listed by Vitruvius as writers on mechanics – for instance, Diades, Charias, Polyeidos, and above all Archimedes – was, as far as we know, entirely in the field of engineering.19 Similarly, the architects known to us by name, whether from Vitruvius or some other source, generally appear only as designers of specific buildings or as writers on architecture, or both. Famous sculptors such as Pheidias and Skopas were occasionally entrusted with the supervision, or even the actual design, of buildings; a few architects, such as Pytheos and Satyros, were perhaps also on occasion sculptors; and Theodoros of Samos, in the sixth century, was a skilled metallurgist as well as a specialist in building problems. However, there is little evidence that Greek architects were normally active in the field of engineering theory and its applications. A possible exception is Sostratos of Knidos, the designer of the Pharos, or lighthouse, on the Pharos island at Alexandria.20 The construction of this lofty building posed technical problems of a magnitude rarely encountered by Greek architects, though familiar to, and easily handled by, their Roman successors. If the solutions adopted by Sostratos were the fruits of his own theoretical work, he must have had a technical and theoretical background that few Greek architects possessed. If he was also responsible for the design of some system of mirrors, by which an enhanced and intensified beam of light could be projected farther out to sea, he was clearly one of the leading engineers of the Hellenistic world. The distinction that later Greeks made between architects and engineers was due in some

238 measure to the development of the two professions in earlier times. As we have already remarked, in Archaic and even in Classical times, architects were not nearly so highly regarded as sculptors and painters. Alison Burford’s studies of building inscriptions at Epidauros and elsewhere suggest that even in the fourth century ‘architects’ were little more than skilled stonemasons and construction tradesmen, who had become known for the erection of buildings that were both attractive and reasonably durable.21 Like their medieval successors down to the High Gothic period, they worked empirically, on the basis of trial and error and usually with great caution. New ideas, such as the use of structural iron, and later of the true arch, though they could have been of inestimable practical value, were evidently regarded with suspicion, and were rarely given very serious consideration. Even the design of such outstanding works as the Periklean Parthenon was seen as a series of adjustments to the relative proportions of a few established and acceptable structural forms. Attempts to introduce more complex, more sophisticated, and above all more economical techniques of construction are virtually unknown, outside of such utilitarian fields as military architecture. This situation is understandable enough as long as Greek natural and physical science were in their infancy. What is surprising is that it should generally have continued through late Classical and Hellenistic times, when Greek architects could have benefited greatly from contemporary engineering science. Still, by the end of the fifth century Greek architects had built, and even written about, a number of large and famous buildings. Among those completely finished were giants such as the Ephesian Artemision and acknowledged masterpieces of design such as the Parthenon. At this time engineering, even the military engineering that made such dramatic progress during the next century, scarcely existed, at least in the form of practical applications of scientific theory. Herodotos regarded the aqueduct of Eupalinos at Samos and the moles of the Samian harbour as two of the ‘greatest works of all the Greeks.’22 Yet one of these Samian works was simply an enormous rock-cut tunnel, the other gigantic piles

Conclusion of stone blocks. The water tunnel was primitive indeed by comparison with the water system of Pergamon; and the harbour moles presented few of the difficulties that Roman engineers routinely surmounted in erecting bridge piers in deep or swiftly flowing rivers. Sculptors had been concerned with mathematical proportions and relationships from quite early times; Polykleitos’s treatise on his Canon provided a detailed theoretical statement on this aspect of his art. In the same general period, as we have seen, Agatharchos had written on perspective, and Demokritos and Anaxagoras had then dealt with the mathematical theory of such representations. In the field of architecture Iktinos may have discussed the mathematics of the proportions of the Parthenon, and mathematicians may well have dealt with such topics from a theoretical viewpoint. However, there is no evidence of the application of mathematical theory to the problems of structural engineering, at least not by practising architects. During the fourth century the picture changed radically. The campaigns of Dionysios I of Syracuse and the Macedonians created a demand for military engineering and technology on a scale unprecedented in the Greek world. New technology, however, depends upon the practical application of pure research; and each new stage of technological development is likely to encourage further advances in pure science. Of course, both theoretical research and the development of new machines required large sums of money; but these Philip, Alexander, and their successors were ready to provide. Indeed, the Ptolemies founded and continued to finance in Alexandria the greatest literary and scientific research institute in the ancient world, the Library and Museum. In addition, the middle and later fourth century had been a period of cataloguing and codification in the broad general area of Greek philosophy and science; among other results this movement produced the Aristotelian corpus. The division of ‘knowledge’ into largely separate groups and disciplines no doubt posed many of the same problems in antiquity as it does today; but it did have the advantage of focusing attention on the solution of specific problems in each area of research, in terms appropriate

Conclusion to that area. New theoretical advances normally prove to have practical applications extending beyond the specific problems that had inspired the initial investigations. Some architects, such as Pytheos, were quick to appreciate the connections between science, architecture, and the other arts, and the potential for achievement in other fields of activity by an architect possessing a sound theoretical education. Perhaps Pytheos’s view was shared by Hermogenes and a few others; Sostratos, as we have already remarked, was apparently one of these. Yet outside the field of military architecture, fourth-century and Hellenistic architects and engineers seem to have gone their separate ways. Archimedes, one of the greatest mathematical and scientific geniuses of all time, could say that given a place to stand and enough leverage, he could move the whole world; but he could also effectively turn his theoretical knowledge to the problems of thwarting the Roman besiegers of Syracuse.23 Other Hellenistic engineers achieved brilliant results in the field of ballistics and weaponry, one of the most remarkable being the theoretical model for a catapult operated by compressed air instead of rather clumsy and unsatisfactory torsion ropes.24 Few of these specialists, however, seem to have devoted their attention to the problems of building materials and techniques. Hellenistic architects, on the other hand, though obviously familiar with mortar and concrete, the strength and durability of bronze and iron, and the principle of the arch and vault, apparently never investigated seriously the feasibility of a new architecture based on the use of some or all of these materials and techniques. Part of the reason for the lack of interaction between architecture and engineering can perhaps be found in a couple of passages in Plutarch and Lucian. Plutarch speaks of sculpture in connection with ‘working with one’s own hands on menial tasks.’ ‘No talented youth,’ he says, ‘seeing the Zeus at Olympia or the Hera at Argos, ever wanted to be Pheidias or Polykleitos.’25 In Lucian’s Somnium, Paideia, or Education, tells Lucian that if he becomes a ‘stonecutter,’ he will be a mere workman all his life, obscure, doing hard physical work for low wages, of low esteem, and treated as worthless

239 by public opinion; if he becomes another Pheidias or Polykleitos, his work will be praised, but no sane person will wish to be like him – ‘a common workman, a craftsman, making his living with his hands.’26 In early times architects, as we have seen, were in fact skilled stonemasons by training; it may well be that even in the Hellenistic age the stigma of ‘working with one’s own hands’ still clung to the profession, condemning most of its practitioners to obscurity, and often to anonymity. A few exceptional individuals, such as Skopas, were also sculptors of repute; others were competent theoreticians and writers like Pytheos and Hermogenes, and could exert a direct influence through their writings on the work of their contemporaries and successors. However, their achievements were probably not enough to remove the stigma, let alone to attract outstanding engineers into a profession that even in the most favourable circumstances involved months or years of humdrum routine in supervising the actual construction of the buildings they were commissioned to design. Another factor was undoubtedly the conservatism that is so conspicuous in the history of Greek architecture. The achievements of the Archaic and Classical periods are almost all summed up in the history of the columnar orders and of temple designs. By the middle and late fifth century the columnar orders were firmly established as the only acceptable basis of monumental design; and later architects generally remained faithful to this view, down to the end of the Hellenistic period. Inevitably, this approach limited even the architectural theorists to the enunciation of systems of proportion in plan and elevation, for buildings as a whole as well as for the individual parts. In such an atmosphere rebels who tried to break out of the traditional patterns were likely to find themselves and their designs rejected by both public and professional opinion. The force of tradition is still evident as late as the end of the first century BC, not only in some of the attitudes of Vitruvius, but even more in the strongly classicizing character of Augustan architecture. It is not surprising that most of the brilliant engineers and theoreticians turned to other fields of activity, which gave more scope for their talents.

240 The achievement of Roman architects and engineers in producing a genuine architectural revolution in the three generations from the time of Nero to the death of Hadrian is certainly astonishing. Yet even in Augustan times Vitruvius regarded mechanical and civil engineering as essentials of the architect’s profession, competence in which could be achieved only by extensive and rigorous training. His view is clearly shown by the contents of his De Architectura, which dealt not only with the design of temples, public buildings, and private houses, but also with mechanics, water supply, town planning and fortifications, harmonics and the acoustics of theatres, building materials, technical aspects of foundations, substructures and superstructures, and wall painting and pigments. Moreover, the Vitruvian view had probably been that of Roman architects in general from the second century onward. By the time the Romans came into really close contact with the Hellenistic world, Hellenistic science and engineering were at their apogee. The Romans were as a rule not great research scientists themselves; but they were always quick to appreciate the practical applications of theoretical research. They could see before them the relationship (or sometimes lack of it) between scientific theory and engineering practice; and they had available for study the documentary and theoretical writings of earlier Greek architects as well as the actual buildings designed by these men. Thus, they could appreciate both the common theoretical basis of architecture and engineering, and the advantages of some theoretical training for practitioners in both fields. During the later second and first centuries BC, the technical staffs of Roman generals and provincial governors were evidently greatly enlarged. For example, Pompey found no problem in having a model made of the theatre at Mytilene, to serve as a guide in the design of his own new theatre in the Campus Martius at Rome.27 Moreover, the Romans imported Greek architects and stonemasons as well as Greek marbles. About 150–140 Hermodoros of Salamis designed the first marble temple in Rome, perhaps for Q. Metellus Macedonicus, and Greek workmen may have carved some of the columns of the round temple by the Tiber in the following

Conclusion century.28 The Romans probably also sent their own young architects and engineers to study in the Hellenistic kingdoms. One of these may have been Cossutius, who caught the attention of Antiochos IV or his ministers – unless we assume that Antiochos made the acquaintance of Cossutius during the future monarch’s sojourn in Rome. Cossutius was subsequently employed to redesign the Olympieion at Athens as a Corinthian dipteros; a period of study in the East by the architect would help to explain the rather classicizing proportions of the columns in the new temple. As we have seen in chapter 1, the Italian architect may subsequently have returned to Antioch to work on engineering projects in that city, if he is the person whose name was scratched in the cement lining of a water channel on the slopes of Mt Silpios.29 From the middle of the first century BC onward, the influence of Roman architecture and engineering east of the Adriatic increased steadily. Roman ideas were probably partly responsible for the design of the Propylaia of Appius Claudius Pulcher at Eleusis; and the Tower of the Winds at Athens represents a thoroughgoing combination of architecture and engineering science that seems more characteristic of Rome than of the Hellenistic world.30 The longspan wooden crossbeams supporting the roof structure of the Odeion of Agrippa in the Athenian Agora would have been virtually impossible without the technical knowledge and skills of the Romans; and the great Roman roads (with their accompanying bridges), which now began to criss-cross the Balkan peninsula and Asia Minor, were destined to outlast by many centuries the pagan Roman Empire whose needs they served. In trying to assess the overall influence of Hellenistic architects in their own and later times, we are severely handicapped by the paucity of explicit evidence from the Hellenistic and Roman periods. As far as engineering is concerned, we are much better off. Scientists and engineers have always used both the achievements and the failures of earlier periods as the foundation for their own progress; they cannot afford to let the work of their predecessors sink into total oblivion. Hellenistic and Roman spe-

Conclusion cialists in these fields were no exception. Thus, we have at our disposal a number of engineering manuals, or treatises, of both Greek and Roman date, as well as many paraphrases or quotations from, and references to, works by other authors that have since been lost. From these sources it has been possible to construct a history of Greek, and especially of Hellenistic, science and engineering that is very informative despite the inevitable lacunae.31 Greek architects, by contrast, did not really begin to think of themselves as true professionals until the middle of the fourth century. Before that time they had little theoretical knowledge of the principles of construction, and virtually no appreciation of the potential of theoretical research for the solution of practical problems. Thus, the architectural theorists of the fourth century and the Hellenistic period had to build a ‘philosophy of Greek architecture’ from the foundations upward. It seems clear from the rather scanty evidence that they did in fact address themselves seriously to this task. However, for a variety of reasons we know much less about the substance of their achievement than we could wish. In the history of Western architecture at least, the architects of each major period have often seemed to be reacting, or even rebelling, against the work of their predecessors. They cannot of course avoid indebtedness to earlier periods; but they have been at pains to emphasize the differences (whether real or only imagined) between their own works and writings and those that had gone before them. The attitude of the early Christian centuries to pagan antiquity, and of the Renaissance to Gothic, are cases in point. We cannot doubt that once the Roman architectural revolution was well launched (i.e., at least from the later first century AD onward), Roman architects adopted a similar stance vis-a` vis their predecessors, particularly those of Classical and Hellenistic Greece. In Augustan times, if Vitruvius’s De Architectura is any indication, Roman architects were steeped in Greek theory and practice. By the time of Hadrian even the traditional temple plans were being abandoned; the form of the columnar orders was based on early Imperial models rather than on the Hellenistic tradition from which Augustan architects

241 had drawn their inspiration; and the architectural revolution of the preceding sixty to seventy years had so altered the scale and scope of Roman architectural designs that Greek postand-lintel stonework had been reduced to mere decorative detail for Roman concrete masses and the increasingly large volumes that these enclosed. For the student of Greek architecture it is fortunate indeed that Vitruvius’s treatise has survived; for a comparable work of the second or third century AD would probably have included much less information about late Classical and Hellenistic work. At least from the Flavian period onward, Vitruvius’s successors doubtless regarded Greek architecture with some disdain. They still paid lip service to the glories of the Periklean age or the grandeur of the Artemision at Ephesos. However, their own interests and activities lay largely outside the field of temple architecture; and Greek stoas, theatres, and gymnasia no longer provided much direct inspiration for the design of Roman basilicas, amphitheatres, and thermae. If Vitruvius’s book had not been written before the death of Nero, it would probably never have been written at all, at least in its present form. This is not to say that architects from the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire ignored, or at least had little interest in, the architecture of the Hellenistic age. Surviving monuments of Roman date in Greece and Asia Minor show that the Hellenistic tradition was very much alive in those regions; and some of the criticisms made by Trajan’s Syrian architect Apollodoros, in assessing Hadrian’s Temple of Venus and Roma, seem to have been based on an intimate knowledge of the theories of Hellenistic architects in the field of temple design.32 Nevertheless, Trajan’s Forum in Rome, the Odeion of Herodes in Athens, the agora basilicas of Smyrna and Aspendos, the substructures of the Traianeum at Pergamon and of the Zeus temple at Aizanoi, the theatres at Perge, Sagalassos, and Aspendos, and the temple complexes at Baalbek and Jerash, while they all include details derived from the Hellenistic tradition, are in many ways thoroughly Roman in character.33 To the designers of these structures the work of Pytheos and Hermogenes probably seemed as remote, not to say primitive, as early

242 and middle Archaic work must have appeared in the eyes of Hellenistic architects. To transpose Lucian’s attitude toward sculpture to the field of architecture, no Roman architect, standing before the Parthenon or the Stoa of Attalos, would have been moved to design and construct his own buildings in such an inefficient, laborious, and time-consuming manner. In sum, then, the influence of Hellenistic architects and architectural theory was largely confined to the period from Alexander to the early Roman Empire. From the middle of the fourth to the second century BC a considerable number of important new buildings were designed and undertaken. Although some of these were not carried through to completion (e.g, the new Didymaion and the Athenian Olympieion), both as a group and individually they clearly exerted a considerable influence on contemporary and later theory and practice. Moreover, during this period architectural theorists grappled seriously with the problems posed by the columnar orders, temple design and town planning. Vitruvius’s discussions of the design of the Greek theatre, gymnasium, and palaistra were doubtless based on Hellenistic works on the same subjects; and the principles of domestic architecture also seem to have received some attention during the Hellenistic age. Clearly too there was a lively debate between the champions of the Doric and Ionic orders, and both sides made positive contributions to the development of Corinthian. The Doriclonic debate had already begun in the middle of the fourth century, in the writings of Pytheos, and perhaps of Silenos; it was still raging as late as the second century, when Hermogenes reiterated Pytheos’s strictures on Doric. Arkesios also disapproved of Doric; but unlike Hermogenes and most other East Greek architects, Arkesios was apparently a strong advocate of Corinthian, on which he wrote a book. Meanwhile, we learn from surviving monuments that in spite of the disapproval of Pytheos, Hermogenes, and Arkesios, the new temple of Apollo at Klaros was Doric, and that Doric was quite as much in favour as Ionic with the designers of Pergamene temples; moreover, even in Asia Minor Doric was almost universally employed for the main exterior order of stoas.

Conclusion Alexandrian and Seleukid architects, by contrast, seem to have been very partial to Corinthian; and Macedonian designers borrowed from Asia Minor Ionic forms and ideas that were subsequently passed on to Epiros. From these varied sources there emerges a picture of a lively and flourishing architectural theory and practice. The merits of different styles were the subject of spirited debate; yet theoretical positions were no barrier to the free and fruitful passage of forms and ideas from one region to another. A similar situation of course can be seen to have prevailed in sculpture, and the same was probably true of painting. As a result, much original work was done in all three fields, although first-hand evidence is much more abundant for architecture and sculpture, the products of which were more durable than either mural or panel paintings. Yet from the beginning of the second century BC onward, the Hellenistic world stood more and more in the shadow of the rising power of Rome; and Rome was very prone to reap where she had not sown, and to gather where she had not strawed. She might send her architects and engineers, her poets and scholars, to study in the great Hellenistic centres of learning – but only the better to turn to her own use the knowledge and resources of the eastern Mediterranean. As the Hellenistic kingdoms gradually lost their power of independent action, new architectural projects must have become less common. Eastern architects were therefore ready to accept commissions in Italy; Hermodoros of Cyprian Salamis was doubtless only one among many to have done so. In the first century BC the initial trickle of architects, artists, and artisans moving westward to Italy became a flood. Yet in the service of Rome Eastern architectural traditions were destined to undergo greater changes than Eastern sculpture, painting, and carved and painted ornament. Italic sculpture and painting had long been little more than a series of local adaptations of an essentially Greek style. Distinctively Italic qualities there certainly were, but not so dominant as to constitute an independent style, in the sense that Archaic Greek art was independent of its Near Eastern models. In architecture, by con-

Conclusion trast, the Etruscans, and after them the Romans, had shown much more originality. They had developed their own traditions of temple architecture; from the Greeks, especially those of South Italy and Sicily, they borrowed only easily transferred ornamental details, such as details of the columnar orders, mouldings, and the patterns on painted terracotta revetments. Moreover, they had begun to give serious practical attention to the problems of town planning and civil engineering at an earlier period than did their counterparts east of the Adriatic. The earliest Roman bridges and aqueducts, and the plan and defences of Roman military posts such as the original fourth-century castrum at Ostia, owed virtually nothing to Greece; and Italic builders, especially in the Naples area, developed techniques of cheap and durable mortarwork construction, the potential of which was never grasped by architects in the Hellenistic world. By the early second century BC, when Italic architects began to come into really close contact with Hellenistic culture, the ‘Italic tradition’ was so strong and deeply rooted that Hellenistic forms and ideas were easily absorbed and turned to advantage. Rather than being overwhelmed by the Greek flood, Roman architects successfully rode its crest to new levels of achievement. Already by the end of the second century they were developing on a large scale the idea of the arch framed by engaged columns and entablature, and had combined this new form with walls of opus incertum and concrete-vaulted interiors. Facades might still be built, or at least faced, in ashlar masonry; but the foundations were already laid for the later appearance of buildings constructed entirely in brick and concrete, whether with or without veneer in marble and other ‘luxury’ materials. In many ways these Italic and Roman developments lay outside the mainstream of the Hellenistic tradition; yet they were still indebted to the eastern Mediterranean in several respects. For example, the application of marble veneer to walls built of less ornamental and carefully finished materials certainly came to Italy from east of the Adriatic; and combinations of different coloured materials for the sake of decorative effect, a practice originating in Classical Greek

243 architecture of the latter part of the fifth century, had become increasingly common from the fourth century onward. Both these ideas were later taken up and further developed in decorative schemes of Roman Imperial date. Hellenistic architecture had also made extensive use of half-columns and pilasters in contexts such as the articulation of wall surfaces and the ornamentation of entranceways; and decorative screens of free-standing columns were not unknown. In Roman hands, these ideas, originally Greek, underwent a rich and varied development; in addition, Hellenistic decorative experiments must have provided some of the inspiration both for Roman ‘mixed orders’ and for the great variety of forms found in Roman Ionic and Corinthian. In fact, some late Hellenistic monuments, such as the Propylaia of Appius Claudius at Eleusis, can as easily be labelled Roman as Greek. Again, the great Imperial baths, or thermae, with their hypocaust systems of heating, were indeed monumental versions of smaller structures of the late Republic; but the latter in turn were apparently developed from simple hypocaust structures of Hellenistic date, as we can see from extant examples as well as from the use of Greek descriptive terms. The civil basilica, one of the most familiar types of Roman building, also has a Greek name; and in fact the huge scale of the Basilica Julia and Basilica Ulpia at Rome was made possible only by applying Italo-Hellenistic developments in the field of triangular trusswork to the problems of roofing enlarged versions of such Hellenistic Greek buildings as the Hypostyle Hall on Delos. In the light of the above relationships we could assume, even without the example of Vitruvius to guide us, that Roman architects had made a close study of the achievements of the Hellenistic world. What Vitruvius adds is evidence that they also knew and used the practical handbooks and theoretical treatises of Hellenistic architects and engineers, some of whom are known to us only from the Vitruvian lists. Unfortunately, Vitruvius’s De Architectura is for us unique in classical Latin literature. Thus, we have to ask whether other such works are likely to have existed either in Vitruvius’s day or earlier, and how many Greek treatises Vitruvius

244 himself (and other technical Latin writers) are likely to have read in their entirety. Vitruvius’s Latin does not perhaps inspire confidence about his competence in Greek.34 On the other hand, extant Hellenistic technical manuals, even without the illustrations that once accompanied the text, are usually not difficult to follow after the technical vocabulary has been mastered; and the Greek technical vocabulary was in many cases simply taken over into Latin. Moreover, Vitruvius and his fellows had the advantage, denied to us, of being able to study actual examples of Hellenistic machines, from torsion-artillery to Archimedean screws and Ktesibian pumps. In addition, many Hellenistic technical manuals may have been published in Latin summaries, perhaps even in complete translations. All in all, from ca. 150 to the time of Augustus the influence of Hellenistic architects and technical writers is likely to have been very strong indeed. Admittedly, this influence was largely confined to the columnar orders and to ornamental details; for the technical basis of Roman architecture was already developing along lines very different from those followed by the Greeks. Nevertheless, since the Romans decided to clothe their rather un-Greek structural forms in Greek dress, the Hellenistic tradition on which they drew was

Conclusion very influential in determining the outward appearance of many Roman buildings, both religious and secular. This Hellenistic influence certainly increased as a result of the rather conservative, and strongly classicizing, ‘official’ style of the Augustan period. However, although Augustan classicizing continued into the reign of Tiberius, under Claudius the style was definitely on the wane; and during Nero’s reign the most important new ideas and initiatives were in areas in which Hellenistic theory and practice had little assistance to offer. By the beginning of the second century AD Hellenistic influence on the mainstream of Roman architecture was largely confined to the design of columnar facades and entrances; and even here the proportions and arrangement of the columnar orders depended more often than not on the scale and form of the building behind, rather than deriving from Hellenistic models. From this time onward Roman architects, even in Greece and Asia Minor, probably found little reason to consult the works of Hellenistic architectural theorists. Classical and Hellenistic influences were limited in most cases to direct copying of actual buildings and form, as, for instance, in the completion by Hadrian of the Athenian Olympieion or the late Antonine construction of the Outer Propylaia at Eleusis.

B. THE CREATIVITY OF THE HELLENISTIC AGE Hellenistic architecture has often been treated simply as an appendage to that of the Classical age. As a result, undue emphasis has sometimes been given to those aspects of the Hellenistic achievement that are most obviously related to Classical work, while its more original and creative accomplishments have received less attention than is their due. Yet some important building types of the fourth century and later had few, if any, Classical predecessors significant enough to be treated at length in a general survey. Thus, to preserve the overall order and coherence of the survey, such buildings may be given only passing mention, even in the section dealing with the Hellenistic age. Perhaps then the best way of emphasizing the true extent and character of Hellenistic achievements is to list the forms and types that were largely or entirely

confined to the Hellenistic period. In the field of temple architecture the following forms are distinctively Hellenistic: the Ionic pseudodipteros; the prostyle temple (or templelike momumnent, such as the heroon or mausoleum overlooking the stadium at Messene)35 with porch slightly wider than cella; the pseudoperipteros; the round temple; temples set within regular colonnaded courts; small sanctuaries in which the temple porch is integrated with the colonnade along the side of the court opposite the gateway; monumental altars that have absorbed the functions of the temple; temples built entirely in the Corinthian order. If we set beside these innovations the rather meagre Classical additions to the temple-building tradition of the Archaic period, we shall have to admit that Hellenistic architects produced a larger number

Conclusion of new forms and ideas than had their Classical predecessors. In civic architecture, the stoa with wings and the two-aisled stoa with rooms opening off the inner aisle had both appeared in the Classical period. However, all the following were introduced from the middle of the fourth century onward: two-storeyed stoas; single-storeyed stoas effectively set off on terraces; straight stoas closing the whole of one side, and L-shaped and -shaped stoas extending around two or three sides of an agora; stoas colonnaded on both long sides to serve as ‘dividers’ between adjoining open areas; and stoas elaborated into market-buildings. Moreover, while bouleuteria, or council-houses, are already known in Archaic times, as at Athens and Olympia, it was Hellenistic architects who gave them a definite form, with rectangular, lightly curved, or semicircular tiers of stone seats, appropriate interior and exterior ornament, and sometimes their own colonnaded courtyard. The standard form of the prytaneion, if such a form existed, is also probably not older than the middle of the fourth century; and the development of standard forms of monumental facade for public fountains was in large part a late phenomenon. As far as military structures are concerned, Hellenistic gateways became much more monumental in appearance, as a result of the introduction of the true arch and vault, and of the use of corbel arches on a larger scale than ever before. Multi-storeyed towers with crowning architectural ornament were also a Hellenistic creation.36 Moreover, Philo’s arsenal at Peiraieus is the earliest known example of a large structure specifically planned for such a purpose; the fact that the designer wrote a book on this building suggests that it was either a new type of design, or at least much larger than any of its predecessors. Extant examples of such large storage buildings are all of Hellenistic date or later. It is well known that before the later fourth century the skenai, or stage-buildings, and tiers of seats in Greek theatres were seldom, if ever, built entirely in stone. The earliest stone scenebuildings, it is true, simply reproduced wooden forms that had probably been evolving during most of the preceding hundred years. Yet it was

245 not until ca. 325 that Greek architects were called upon to modify the Classical skene, in order to provide a raised stage for the requirements of New Comedy. This Hellenistic proskenionstage, and the episkenion that served as its backdrop, had no known Classical predecessors. The ‘Greek theatre’ of Vitruvius was in fact an entirely Hellenistic creation; and the familiar pulpitum and scaenae frons of Roman theatres were simply elaborations of a Western Hellenistic tradition of theatre architecture. Gymnasia, palaistrai, and stadia, like the bouleuterion and theatre, had existed, at least in embryonic form, from quite early times. Yet we have no surviving examples of actual buildings before the middle of the fourth century; and it was the Hellenistic age that gave these structures the architectural form that later provided the nucleus of the Roman thermae, and the patterns for Roman stadia and circuses. Hellenistic architects were also capable of adapting the essential elements of these buildings, and especially of the gymnasium and palaistra, to the great variety of scale, or topography, or both, that they encountered at Olympia, Epidauros, Delphi, Amphipolis, Messene, Pergamon, and Priene. In addition, they laid the architectural foundation for the use of the gymnasium-palaistra as both school and ‘liberal arts college,’ while at the same time keeping buildings of this type within the financial reach of small towns. Here, as in other instances, the Vitruvian description of the gymnasiumpalaistra complex simply reflects Hellenistic theory and practice. Much the same may be said of domestic architecture. Obviously there was a tradition of domestic architecture in the Greek world from Archaic times onward. However, with the exception of the palaces of Archaic (and later) despots, or ‘tyrants,’ and probably the houses of merchant princes in such cities as Corinth and Sybaris, Greek domestic architecture had generally been plain and unassuming. Demosthenes speaks critically of the contrast between the unostentatious homes of men like Themistokles and Perikles and the luxurious residences of some of his own contemporaries;37 and the majority of the houses at Olynthos show how simple domestic accommodation might still be, even as late as the mid-

246 fourth century and in a city of some size and importance. In small towns such as Priene many of the houses always remained extremely modest in scale and decoration. By contrast, Pella and Vergina in Macedonia, Samos and Delos in the Aegean, Pergamon in Asia Minor, and the Vesuvian cities in Italy provide actual examples of both urban palazzi, and rural palaces and villas, built on a scale and variety that helps us to appreciate what we have lost at Antioch and Alexandria. While generally smaller in scale than many of their successors of Roman Imperial times, these Hellenistic buildings once more go far beyond any known Classical prototypes, and were the primary source of inspiration for such early Imperial urban dwellings as the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya. Even in the Archaic period Ionic forms had sometimes been mixed with the Doric order, or vice versa, as in the Ionic frieze on the architrave of the Doric temple at Assos, and the admixture of Ionic forms and ideas in both West Greek and mainland Greek Doric;38 moreover, Ionic never at any time during this early period achieved a standard form. The experimental trend which had always been characteristic of Ionic made it easier for the architects of the late fifth century to introduce, or revive, decorative variants of the Ionic capital, such as we find in the Erechtheion or in the new Corinthian capital created during the same period in Athens. However, the development of Greek Corinthian, and especially of the type from which Roman ‘normal Corinthian’ derived, was a largely Hellenistic phenomenon, as was also the transformation of Corinthian from an interior decorative to an exterior structural form. The Hellenistic period was also responsible for the elimination of doctrinaire distinctions between Doric and Ionic, which had long ceased to have any practical or theoretical justification. After all, if we accept the usual derivation of Doric and Ionic forms in stone from earlier wooden prototypes, we are acknowledging that the stone forms have ceased to be structural and have become almost entirely decorative. In particular, no writer on Greek architecture seriously disputes the essentially decorative character of the Doric and Ionic frieze-bands, or

Conclusion of the mouldings of the cornice and the sima, or rain gutter. Architects of the fourth century and the Hellenistic age simply recognized these and other forms for what they had in fact become, and felt free to combine them in new ways to meet new conditions and requirements; they would no doubt have been puzzled by the objections of conservatives such as Vitruvius to combinations of this sort. In fact, so far from destroying the unity and coherence of the columnar orders, as the ‘Classicists’ would have it, later architects could claim to have loosed the chains with which the Classical age had bound the exuberance of Archaic architecture, and to have set the stage for a renewed and dynamic growth that continued far down into Roman times. As we have seen, the date of the first appearance of the true arch and vault in Greek architecture has been disputed. Nevertheless, there are few extant examples that can be definitely assigned to a period earlier than ca. 340 BC, nor any definite literary references to arched construction in Greece and Asia Minor that predate the Hellenistic age. On the other hand, from the late fourth century onward arches and various types of vaulting become more and more common. Hellenistic technical writers described the principles and methods of erecting arched structures; Hellenistic architects used such forms in a variety of contexts; and Alexandrian designers may even have discovered the application of the arch principle to the construction of domes.39 It is true that the conservative strain that had always been present to some degree in Greek architectural practice, prevented the Hellenistic world from developing new types of facade, based on the arch and backed by vaulted interiors, that were to prove so fruitful in Roman Imperial times. Yet there are many Hellenistic examples of arch and vault in superstructures as well as in substructures; only in examples such as the Letoon theatre near Xanthos, where an arched opening is set within a rectangular frame based on the columnar orders, is it necessary to consider the likelihood of Roman Republican influence. Perhaps even more indicative of Hellenistic experimentation and inventiveness are the various experiments in relieving the pressure of superincumbent masses of masonry on doorways

Conclusion and gateways. Jambs and lintel enclosing a corbel arch, as in the entrance of the early Hellenistic battery (St Paul’s Tower) at Ephesos, had proved unsatisfactory;40 a slight settling of the corbel might deprive the lintel of its support, causing it to crack. Obviously the use of the true arch, rather than the corbel, was much more likely to avert such mishaps; and this was in fact the solution adopted in the Nekyomanteion at Ephyra in Epiros. In really large openings, such as that of the Letoon theatre cited above, or the corbelled gateways at Assos, it would probably not have been feasible to use a corbel within a rectangular frame; in the Assos gates the function of the corbels was rather to relieve the lintel, or the blocks over the gate-passage, of virtually all superimposed weight.41 Even at Ephyra the designers of the doorway tried to protect the lintel by means of a relieving arch built into the polygonal masonry above it; and the load on the flat voussoir arch of the towergate at Sillyon was lightened by placing above it long blocks cantilevered over the jambs of the opening.42 These examples, ranging in date from the early third to the first century, show that some Hellenistic architects, at least, were very much alive to the possibility of using both corbel and radiating arches to solve some of the problems inherent in post-and-lintel construction. As a matter of fact, they anticipated many of the solutions found in Roman work; but they were much less quick than the Romans to appreciate all the practical applications of their new theoretical advances. Much the same may be said of Hellenistic advances in other aspects of construction. Hellenistic architects probably learned from Mesopotamia something of the potential of baked bricks, and experimented with them in such diverse situations as city walls and the Hellenistic temple at Lykosoura.43 They may also have learned from the Near Eastern world that lime-mortar could be used both as a binding material in coursed masonry and, with the addition of some sort of aggregate, for producing a form of concrete. It seems certain, too, that mastery of the theory of triangular trusswork, in the construction of longspan wooden ceilings, was the work of the Hellenistic age. Late Hellenistic architects thus had at

247 their disposal virtually all the technical ideas and the materials that were to serve as the basis of the Roman Imperial achievement; yet the Augustan age had already surpassed their best efforts, as we learn from the pages of Vitruvius. Vitruvius describes in detail various kinds of concrete, or mortar mixture, including pozzolana, a substance unknown east of the Adriatic;44 he notes that the strongest baked bricks are made from old roof tiles;45 and he refers almost casually to the sixty-foot span of the nave in his basilica at Fanum, where trusses were used in the construction of the crossbeams and the roof.46 The failure of Hellenistic architects to make full use of the knowledge at their disposal may have been due in large part to conservatism, or to lack of adequate professional training, or even to a combination of these two factors. More probably, however, a major reason was the matter of temperament. A.W. Lawrence has remarked of the Greek political experience that the ancient Greeks were ‘habitual inventors of constitutions . . . [but] always failed abysmally at government.’47 So too in the field of engineering, the Hellenistic world dealt more effectively with scientific theory than with practical engineering problems. It might perhaps be argued that as a result of the Roman conquest, Hellenistic architects and engineers never had a fair chance of translating new theoretical discoveries into practice. Nevertheless, the Hellenistic record as a whole does seem to indicate that new ideas were exploited only to the extent that they contributed to the improvement of inherited architectural theory and practice. The revolutionary step of jettisoning accepted theories of design in favour of something radically new and different lay beyond the mental grasp of Hellenistic architects; yet this step was successfully taken by the Romans, who got so much of their scientific knowledge at second hand from Greece, but in this instance at least far surpassed their teachers. In the final analysis, the historian cannot judge the achievements of an age simply on its own terms. Sooner or later each age or culture must be called to account for its stewardship of the past and for the extent to which it used its heritage to enhance its own legacy to the future. To judge the Hellenistic world by the standards

248 either of Classical Greece48 or of Imperial Rome is obviously absurd; almost equally reprehensible is the failure to use the wisdom of hindsight for assessing the quality of that world’s management of its patrimony. The Hellenistic achievement in sculpture, both in the attainment of its own objectives and in its influence upon Rome, has long been recognized; also beyond dispute is the fact that ancient Greek painting (as distinct from coloured drawing) was almost entirely the creation of fourth-century and Hellenistic masters. Hellenistic architecture, sandwiched, as it were, between Classical Greece and Imperial Rome, with close ties to both, has usually not fared as well. Its shortcomings have been overemphasized, its positive contributions too often ignored, or even misunderstood. In recent decades the balance has been redressed, in part as a result of the progress of excavation and publication, but even more because students of Greek architecture, following the lead of historians such as Rostovtzeff and Tarn, began to study the Hellenistic age for its own sake. For example, A. Adriani has written as follows: ‘If the standard applied is the aims and achievements of Hellenistic architecture itself, and not those of classical architecture, the verdict is at once reversed: a vital and mature art is revealed – rich in contrasts, containing the seeds of innovation, an art whose study is essential to an understanding of the historical position of Roman architecture. Admittedly, there is a strong conservative or traditional element, but this is not so great as it was in the preceding age (the contrary is perhaps nearer the mark), and does not impede the trend to innovation.’49 In the light of the preceding chapters we may perhaps state the Hellenistic case even more strongly. On the one hand, while still respecting the general framework of the Classical tradition, Hellenistic architects imparted to city and sanctuary alike a broader sense of overall unity than their predecessors had ever imagined; and in doing so they produced architectural masterpieces that are worthy to stand beside the best of both Classical Greece and Imperial Rome. On the other hand, they were no slavish copyists of Classical forms and ideas. Deliberate copying there certainly was, but it was often done for ‘propa-

Conclusion ganda’ reasons, to emphasize that the Hellenistic monarchs were indeed the stewards of the great traditions of the past. Hellenistic architects were quite capable of producing new and original designs when such were needed for special situations. In fact, their whole attitude was the antithesis of hidebound traditionalism. If they seldom matched the exquisite precision of Classical stonemasonry, it was not because of inferior technique, but because the Classical approach was felt to be unnecessary in an architecture based on overall visual effect, rather than on the exactness of individual details. If they ignored traditional distinctions between the orders, and experimented freely with new forms, it was not out of any lack of appreciation of the past; they simply asked themselves how the various forms inherited from the past could best be combined to produce the richest and most varied results – and then designed their columnar orders accordingly. As a matter of fact, their failure to realize the full potential of new forms and techniques such as the arch and its derivatives, or concrete and baked bricks, was largely due to the close attachment of the Aegean heartland to the architectural forms and traditions of the past. Significantly, the Corinthian order seems to have undergone its richest development in the Ptolemaic and Seleukid kingdoms, where the Graeco-Macedonian ruling caste was a very small minority in a largely non-Greek milieu; and it was perhaps in these Eastern Kingdoms that the arch principle was most widely exploited. Similarly, the strength and richness of Hellenistic developments in Central Italy was due precisely to the fact that the Classical Greek tradition, though not completely unknown, at least lacked firm roots in Central Italian soil. In sum, we may criticize Hellenistic designers either for lack of respect and appreciation of the past or for adhering to it too closely – but not for both these shortcomings, which are in many ways mutually exclusive. In either case, we have to set beside their failures a truly remarkable enrichment of the Greek architectural experience, and one that contributed much to the subsequent achievements of the Romans. As a result of their influence both on Vitruvius and on

Conclusion Roman architectural practice, they were also destined, a millennium and a half after the Hellenistic world had been absorbed into the Roman Empire, to make a significant contribution to the

249 development of the Italian Renaissance. Though often overshadowed by the world of Rome that succeeded it, the Hellenistic world has also ‘in many ways made us what we are.’50

This page intentionally left blank

ABBREVIATIONS USED IN NOTES

AAA = Archaiologika Analekta Athenon AbhBerl = Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin: philosophisch-historische Klasse ActaArch = Acta Archaeologica ´ Adam, 1994 = J.-P. Adam, Le temple de Portunus au Forum Boarium (= CollectionEcFranc ¸Rome 199, Rome 1994) Adriani, 1936 = A. Adriani, ‘La n´ecropole de Moustafa Pasha,’ Annuaire du Mus´ee Gr´eco-Romain (1933–5, Alexandria 1936) Adriani, 1950 = A. Adriani, Annuaire du Mus´ee Gr´eco-Romain (1940–50) 133ff. Adriani, 1963 = A. Adriani, ‘Hellenistic Art: Architecture’ EncWrldArt 7 (New York 1963) 289–312 Adriani, 1966 = A. Adriani, Repertorio d’arte dell’ Egitto greco-romano 1–2 (Palermo 1963, 1966) Adriani, 1970 = A. Adriani, ‘La Magna Grecia nel quadro dell’arte ellenistica,’ ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 (Naples 1970) 71–104 Adriani, 1972 = A. Adriani, Lezioni sull’ arte alessandrina (Naples 1972) AevAnt = Aevum Antiquum Agora XIV = H.A. Thompson, R.E. Wycherley, The Athenian Agora XIV – The Agora of Athens: The History, Shape and Uses of an Ancient City Center (Princeton 1972) AJA = American Journal of Archaeology Akurgal, 1973 = E. Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey (Istanbul 1973) Allen, 1974 = H.L. Allen, AJA 78 (1974) 370–82 (Hellenistic bath in W area of Morgantina – Area VI, Contrada Agnese) Alscher, 1956 = L. Alscher, Griechische Plastik III: Nachklassik und Vorhellenismus (Berlin 1956) Amandry, 1953 = P. Amandry, FD 2: La colonne des Naxiens et la portique des Ath´eniens (Paris 1953) Andronikos, 1984 = M. Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City (Athens 1984) Andronikos, 1989 = M. Andronikos, Vergina. Oi basilikoi taphoi kai oi alles archaiotetes (Athens 1989) Anti, 1947 = C. Anti, Teatri greci arcaici (Padua 1947) Anti/Polacco, 1969 = C. Anti, L. Polacco, Nuovi ricerchi sui teatri greci arcaici (Padua 1969) Anti/Polacco, 1981 = C. Anti, L. Polacco, Il teatro antico di Siracusa, 2 vols. and folder of drawings (Rimini 1981, 1990) AntKunst = Antike Kunst AnzWien = Anzeiger der Akademie der Wissenschaften, Wien. Philologisch-historische Klasse ArchAnz = Arch¨aologischer Anzeiger ArchErgMakThrak = To archaiologiko ergo ste Makedonia kai Thrake ArchNews = Archaeological News

252

Abbreviations Used in Notes

ArchZeit = Arch¨aologische Zeitung Arnott, 1959 = P.D. Arnott, An Introduction to the Greek Theatre (London 1959) Arnott, 1962 = P.D. Arnott, Greek Scenic Conventions in the Fifth Century (Oxford 1962) Arnott, 1971 = P.D. Arnott, The Ancient Greek and Roman Theatre (New York 1971) AthMitt = Athenische Mitteilungen AttiMGrec = Atti della Societ´a Magna Grecia Auberson/Schefold, 1972 = P. Auberson, K. Schefold, Fuhrer durch Eretria (Bern 1972) ¨ Auboyer, 1968 = J. Auboyer, The Art of Afghanistan (Feltham 1968) Audiat, 1974 = J. Audiat, EAD XXVIII: Le gymnase (Paris 1970) Aupert, 1979= P. Aupert, FD II: Le stade (Paris 1979) ´ Aur`es, 1869 = A. Aur`es, ‘Etude des dimensions du temple . . . en l’honneur de V´enus Arsino´e,’ RevArch 20 (1869) 377–91 Avigad, 1954 = N. Avigad, Ancient Monuments in the Kidron Valley (Jerusalem 1954, in Hebrew with English abstract) Avi-Yonah, 1976 = M. Avi-Yonah, Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land II (Jerusalem 1976) 627–41 AvP = Altertumer von Pergamon ¨ BABesch = Bulletin Antieke Beschaving Bacchielli, 1983 = L. Bacchielli, ‘Unita` di luogo fra architettura e megalografie nella facciata della Grande Tomba di Leukadi`a,’ RendLinc 38 (1983) 13–37 Bacchielli, 1984 = L. Bacchielli, ‘Una nuova lettura della facciata della Grande Tomba di Leukadi`a,’Dialoghi di archeologia n.s. 2 (1984) 55–8 Baldry 1971 = H.C. Baldry, The Greek Tragic Theatre (London 1971) Balty, 1967 = J.C. Balty, ‘Rapport sommaire concernant les campagnes de 1965 et 1966 a` Apam´ee de Syrie,’ Annales arch´eologiques arabes syriennes 17 (1967) 45–54 Balty, 1969 = J.C. Balty, ‘Apam´ee de Syrie. Bilan des recherches arch´eologiques 1965/1968,’ Actes du colloque Apam´ee de Syrie, ed. J. Balty (Brussels 1969) Balty, 1971 = J.C. Balty, ‘Nouvelles donn´ees topographiques et chronologiques a` Apam´ee de Syrie,’ Annales arch´eol.arab.syr. 21 (1971) 131–6 Balty, 1972 = J.C. Balty, ‘Bilan des recherches arch´eologiques 1968/1971,’ Actes du colloque de Bruxelles, ed. J. and J.C. Balty (Brussels 1972) Balty, 1994 = J.C. Balty, ‘Grande colonnade et quartiers nord d’Apam e´ e a` la fin de l’´epoque hell´enistique,’ CRAI (1994) 77–101 ¨ 47 (1964/65) 126–45 Bammer, 1965 = A. Bammer, ‘Zum jungeren Artemision von Ephesos,’ OJh ¨ Bammer, 1972 = A. Bammer, Die Architektur des jungeren Artemision von Ephesos (Wiesbaden 1972) ¨ ¨ 62 (1993) Beibl . Bammer, 1993 = A. Bammer, ‘Geschichte des Sekos im Artemision von Ephesos,’ OJh 138–67 Bammer/Muss, 1996 = A. Bammer, U. Muss, Das Artemision von Ephesos (Mainz 1996) Bankel, 1997 = H. Bankel, ‘Knidos: Die hellenistische Rundtempel und sein Altar. Vorbericht,’ ArchAnz (1997) 51–71 Barletta, 1990 = B. Barletta, ‘An Ionian Sea Style in Doric Architecture,’ AJA 94 (1990) 45–72 Bather, 1893 = A.G. Bather, ‘The Development of the Plan of the Thersilion,’ JHS 13 (1892–93) 328–51 Bauer, 1973 = H. Bauer, Korinthische Kapitelle des 4. und 3. Jahrhunderts vor Chr. (= AthMitt 3. Beiheft, Berlin 1973) Bauer, 1977 = H. Bauer, ‘Lysikratesdenkmal: Baubestand und Rekonstruktion,’ AthMitt 92 (1977) 197–227 Bauplanung, 1984 = Deutsches archa¨ ologisches Institut, Bauplanung und Bautheorie der Antike (Berlin 1984) BCH = Bulletin de Correspondance Hell´enique

Abbreviations Used in Notes

253

Bean, 1971 = G.E. Bean, Turkey South of the Maeander (London 1971) Bean, 1978 = G.E. Bean, Lycian Turkey (London 1978) Bean/Cook, 1952 = G.E. Bean, J.M. Cook, ‘The Cnidia,’ BSA 47 (1952) 171–212 ´ BEFAR = Biblioth`eque des Ecoles Franc¸aises d’Ath`enes et de Rome Belleten = Turk ¨ Tarih Kurumu: Belleten Benndorf/Niemann, 1884 = O. Benndorf, G. Niemann, Reisen in Lykien und Karien I (Vienna 1884) Benson, 1893 = E.F. Benson, ‘The Thersilion at Megalopolis,’ JHS 13 (1892–3) 319–27 Berges, 1994 = D. Berges, ‘Alt-Knidos und Neu-Knidos,’ IstMitt 44 (1994) 5–16 Bernard, 1965 = P. Bernard, ‘Remarques sur le d´ecor sculpt´e d’un e´ difice a` Xanthos,’ Syria 42 (1965) 261–88 Bernard, 1968 = P. Bernard, ‘Chapiteaux corinthiens hell´enistiques d´ecouverts a` Ai Khanoum,’ Syria 45 (1968) 111–51 Bernard, 1967, 1969, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1978, 1980 = P. Bernard, ‘Fouilles d’Ai Khanum,’ CRAI (1967) 306–24, (1969) 313–55, (1974) 280–308, (1975) 167–92, (1976) 287–332, (1978) 421–63, (1980) 435–59 Bernhard, 1957 = P. Bernhard, ‘Topographie d’Alexandrie: Le Tombeau d’Alexandre et le Mausole´ e d’Auguste,’ BCH 80–81 (1956–7) 129–56 Bevan, 1968 = E.R. Bevan, The House of Ptolemy (reprint Chicago 1968) Bianchi Bandinelli, 1929 = R. Bianchi Bandinelli, Sovana (Florence 1929) Bieber, 1961 = M. Bieber, The History of the Greek and Roman Theater, 2nd ed. (Princeton 1961) Bingol, ¨ 1980a = O. Bingol, ¨ Das ionische Normalkapitell in hellenistischer und r¨omischer Zeit in Kleinasien (= IstMitt Beiheft 20, Tubingen 1980) ¨ Bingol, ¨ 1980b = O. Bingol, ¨ ‘Die Figuraltrommeln des Apollon-Smintheus-Tempels (Vorbericht),’ Belleten 44 (1980) 257–60 Bingol, ¨ 1983 = O. Bingol, ¨ ‘Zu den Columnae Caelatae,’ Anadolu 22 (1981/83) 115–26 Bingol, ¨ 1991 = O. Bingol, ¨ ‘Die problematischen Bauglieder des Smintheions,’ RevArch (1991) 115–28 Blake, 1947 = M.E. Blake, Ancient Roman Construction in Italy from the Prehistoric Period to Augustus (Washington 1947) Blumel, 1992 = W. Blumel, Die Inschriften von Knidos I (Bonn 1992) ¨ ¨ Blum/Plassart, 1914 = G. Blum, A. Plassart, on excavations at Orchomenos, BCH 38 (1914) Boardman, 1970 = J. Boardman, ‘Travelling Rugs,’ Antiquity 44 (1970) Boehlau/Schefold, 1940 = E. Boehlau, K. Schefold, Larisa am Hermos I (Berlin 1940) Boethius, 1978 = A. Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, revised by R. Ling and T. Rasmussen (London and New York 1978) Bohn, 1885 = R. Bohn, AvP II (Berlin 1885) Bohn, 1889 = R. Bohn, Altertumer von Aegae (Berlin 1889) ¨ Bohtz, 1981 = C.H. Bohtz, AvP XIII (Berlin 1981) Bohtz/Albert, 1970 = C.H. Bohtz, W.-D. Albert, ‘Die Untersuchungen am Demeter-Heiligtum in Pergamon,’ ArchAnz (1970) 391–442 Boitani/Cataldi/Pasquinucci, 1975 = F. Boitani, M. Cataldi, M. Pasquinucci, Etruscan Cities (New York 1975) Bommelaer, 1997 = J.-F. Bommelaer, Marmaria (Paris 1997) Bonacasa / Di Vita, 1995 = N. Bonacasa, A. Di Vita, eds., Alessandria e il mondo ellenistico-romana (Rome 1995) Bonias/Marc, 1996 = Z. Bonias, J.-Y. Marc, ‘Thasos: Th e´ aˆ tre,’ BCH 120 (1996) ‘Chroniques et Rapports’ 882–8 BonnJhb = Bonner Jahrbucher ¨ Borchhardt, 1975 = J. Borchhardt, Myra (Berlin 1975) Borchhardt, 1976 = J. Borchhardt, Die Bauskulptur des Heroons von Limyra (= IstForsch 30 Berlin 1976)

254

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Borker, 1972 = C. Borker, ‘Die Datierung des Zeus-Tempel von Olba-Diokaisareia in Kilikien,’ ArchAnz ¨ ¨ (1971) 37–54 Bouras, 1967 = C. Bouras, Brauron (Athens 1967) Bouras, 1988 = C. Bouras, in AktenXIIInternatKongressKlass Arch¨aol, Berlin, 1988: Resumees (Mainz 1990) ¨ Bousquet, 1941 = J. Bousquet, ‘La colonne dorique de la Tholos de Marmaria,’ BCH 64–65 (1941) 121–7 Bousquet, 1961 = J. Bousquet, ‘La destination de la Tholos de Delphes,’ RevHist (1960–1) 287–98 ´ Boyanc´e, 1940/1972 = P. Boyanc´e, ‘Aedes Catuli,’ MEFR 57 (1940) 64–71 = Etudes sur la religion romaine, MEFR Supp. 11 (Paris 1972) 87–93 Boyd, 1978 = T. Boyd, ‘The Arch and Vault in Greek Architecture,’ AJA 82 (1978) 83–102 Brands, 1992 = G. Brands, ‘Halle, Propylon und Peristyl: Elemente hellenistischer Palastfassaden in Makedonien,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992 Breccia, 1922 = E. Breccia, La necropoli di Sciatbi (Cairo 1922) Brommer, 1977 = Festschrift Frank Brommer (Mainz 1977) Broneer, 1954 = O. Broneer, Corinth I.4: The South Stoa (Princeton 1954) Brown, 1951 = F.E. Brown, Cosa I (= MAAR 20 [1951]) Brown, 1960 = F.E. Brown, E.H. Richardson, L. Richardson Jr, Cosa II: The Temples of the Arx (= MAAR 26 [1960]) Brown, 1993 = F.E. Brown, E.H. Richardson, L. Richardson Jr, Cosa III: The Buildings of the Forum (= MAAR 37 [1993]) Browning, 1973 = I. Browning, Petra (London 1973) Bruneau, 1970 = P. Bruneau et al., EAD 27: L’ilot de la Maison des Com´ediens (Paris 1970) Bruneau, 1995 = P. Bruneau, ‘La maison d´elienne,’ Ramage 12 (1995) 77–118 Brunnow/ von Domaszewski, 1909 = R.E. Brunnow, A. von Domaszewski, Die Provincia Arabia III ¨ ¨ (Strassburg 1909) BSA = Annual of the British School of Archaeology at Athens Buckler, 1986 = C. Buckler, ‘The Myth of the Movable Skenai,’ AJA 90 (1986) 431–6 ´ ´ BullEtOrient = Bulletin des Etudes Orientales Bulle, 1928 = H. Bulle, ‘Untersuchungen an griechischen Theatern,’ AbhMunchen 33 (1928) ¨ BulletinSocArch´eolAlexandrie = Bulletin de la Soci´et´e Arch´eologique d’Alexandrie Bundgaard, 1946 = J. Bundgaard, ‘The Building Contract from Lebadeia,’ ClassMediaev 8 (1946) 1–4 Bundgaard, 1976 = J.A. Bundgaard, Parthenon and the Mycenaean City on the Heights (Copenhagen 1976) Burford, 1969 = A. Burford, The Greek Temple Builders at Epidauros (Liverpool 1969) Burkhalter, 1992 = F. Burkhalter, ‘Le gymnase d’Alexandrie: Centre administratif de la province ´ romaine d’Egypte,’ BCH 116 (1992) 345–73 Busing, 1970 = H. Busing, Die griechische Halbs¨aule (Wiesbaden 1970) ¨ ¨ Butler, 1904 = H.C. Butler, American Archaeological Expedition to Syria II: Architecture and Other Arts (Leiden 1904) Butler, 1919 = H.C. Butler, Princeton Archaeological Expedition to Syria: Division II.A.1 (Leiden 1919) Butler, 1920 = H.C. Butler, Princeton Archaeological Expedition to Syria: Part II B: Northern Syria (Leiden 1907–20) Camp, 1986 = J. McK. Camp, The Athenian Agora (London 1986) Camps, 1973 = M.G. Camps, ‘Nouvelles observations sur l’architecture et l’ aˆ ge du Medracen, mausol´ee royal de Numidie,’ CRAI (1973) 470ff. Caputo, 1935 = G. Caputo, ‘Palcoscenico su vaso attico,’ Dioniso 4 (1935) 273–80 Carbonni`eres, 1995 = P. de Carbonni`eres, Olympie: Victoire pour les dieux (Paris 1995) Carrington, 1936 = F.C. Carrington, Pompeii (Oxford, 1936) Carroll-Spielecke, 1989 = M. Carroll-Spielecke, KHPOS: Der antike griechische Garten (Munich 1989)

Abbreviations Used in Notes

255

Carter, 1970 = J.C. Carter, ‘Relief Sculptures from the Necropolis of Taranto,’ AJA 74 (1970) 125–37 Carter, 1980 = J.C. Carter, AJA 84 (1980) 199–200, abstract of a paper on the sculpture of the Altar of Athena at Priene Carter, 1983 = J.C. Carter, The Sculpture of the Sanctuary of Athena Polias at Priene (London 1983) Carter, 1988 = J.C. Carter, ‘Pytheos,’ AktenXIIIInternatKongrKlassArch¨alogie (Berlin 1988) (Mainz 1990), 129–36 Catalli, 1992 = F. Catalli, Alba Fucens (Rome 1992) Ceccaldi, 1869 = G.C. Ceccaldi, ‘Le temple de V´enus Arsino´e au Cap Zephyrion,’ RevArch 19 (1869) 268–72 Ceka, 1972 = N. Ceka, ‘La ville illyrienne de la Basse-Selce,’ Iliria II (Tirana 1972) 167ff. Celani, 1965 = V. Celani, Ferentino (1965) Chamonard, 1922 = J. Chamonard, EAD VIII.1: Le quartier du th´eaˆ tre (Paris 1922) Champdor, 1972 = A. Champdor, Les ruines de Petra (Lyon 1972) Charbonneaux, 1925 = J. Charbonneaux, FD II.4: Le sanctuaire d’Ath´ena Pronaia: La Tholos (Paris 1925) Childs, 1973 = W.P. Childs, ‘Prolegomena to a Lycian Chronology: The Nereid Monument from Xanthos,’ OpRom 9 (1973) 105ff. Childs, 1976 = W.P. Childs, ‘Prolegomena to a Lycian Chronology II. The Heroon from Trysa,’ RevArch (1976) 281–316 Childs/Demargne, 1989 = W.P. Childs, P. Demargne, FX VIII.2: Le monument des N´er´eides: Le d´ecor sculpt´e (Paris 1989) ´ Choisy, 1884 = A. Choisy, Etudes e´pigraphiques sur l’architecture grecque (Paris 1883–4) Cholmeley, 1930 = R.J. Cholmeley, Theocritus, 2nd ed. (London 1919, 1930) Christoffle, 1951 = M. Christoffle, ‘Le Tombeau de la Chr´etienne,’ in Arts et m´etiers graphiques (Paris 1951) Chronique, 1989 = BCH 113 (1989) Chronique 589 Chrysostomou, 1988 = P. Chrysostomou, ‘Loutra sto anaktoro tes Pellas,’ ArchErgMakThrak 2 (1988) 113–21 CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum Claridge, 1998 = A. Claridge, Rome: An Oxford Archaeological Guide (Oxford 1998) ClarRhod = Clara Rhodos ClassMediaev = Classica et Mediaevalia Coarelli, 1970 = F. Coarelli, ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 122–4, in discussion of L e´ vˆeque, 1970 and Adriani, 1970 Coarelli, 1981 = F. Coarelli, I. Kajanto, U. Nyberg, L’area sacra del Largo Argentina (Rome 1981) Coarelli, 1987 = F. Coarelli, I santuari del Lazio nell’et`a repubblicana (Rome 1987) Coarelli, 1988a = F. Coarelli, Il sepolcro degli Scipioni (Rome 1988) Coarelli, 1988b = F. Coarelli, Il Foro Boario (Rome 1988) Coarelli, 1999 = F. Coarelli, s.vv. ‘Porticus Aemilia,’ in Steinby, 1999, 116–17 CongrInternazArcheolClass = Congresso internazionale di archeologia classica ConvegnoMagnaGrecia8 = Magna Grecia e Roma nell’et`a arcaica: 8. Convegno di studi sulla Magna Grecia (Naples 1969) ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 = Magna Grecia nel mondo ellenistico: 9. Convegno di studi sulla Magna Grecia (Naples 1970) Conze, 1875 = A. Conze et al., Arch¨aologische Untersuchungen auf Samothrake, 2 vols. (Vienna 1875–80) Conze/Schazmann, 1911 = A. Conze, P. Schazmann, Mamurt Kaleh (Berlin 1911) Cook, 1989 = B.F. Cook, ‘The Sculptors of the Maussolleion Friezes,’ in Linders/Hellstr om, 1989, ¨ 31–42

256

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Cook/Plommer, 1966 = J.M. Cook, W.H. Plommer, The Sanctuary of Hemithea at Kastabos (Cambridge 1966) Cooper, 1996 = F.A. Cooper, The Temple of Apollo Bassitas I (Princeton 1996) Cooper/Fortenberry, 1993 = F.C. Cooper, D. Fortenberry, ‘The Heroon at Messene,’ AJA 97 (1993) 337 Corinth I.1, 1932 = H.N. Fowler, R. Stillwell et al., Corinth: Results of Excavations Conducted by the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Volume I Part 1: Introduction, Topography, Architecture (Cambridge, Mass. 1932) Corsi, 1997 = A. Corsi, ‘Vitruvius and the Attic Monuments,’ BSA 92 (1997) 375–400 Couilloud, 1974 = M.-T. Couilloud, EAD 30: Les monuments fun´eraires de Rh´en´ee (Paris 1974) Coulton, 1968 = J.J. Coulton, ‘The Stoa at the Amphiareion,’ BSA 63 (1968) 147–83 Coulton, 1976 = J.J. Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa (Oxford 1976) Coulton, 1977 = J.J. Coulton, Greek Architects at Work (London 1977) Coupel/Demargne, 1969 = P. Coupel, P. Demargne, FX III: Le monument des N´er´eides (Paris 1969) Coupel/Metzger, 1976 = P. Coupel, H. Metzger, ‘La frise des “coqs et poules” de l’Acropole de Xanthos,’ RevArch (1976) 247–64 Courby, 1912 = F. Courby, EAD 5: Le Portique d’Antigone ou du Nord-Est (Paris 1912) ´ Courtois, 1989 = C. Courtois, Le bˆatiment de sc`ene des th´eaˆ tres d’Italie et de Sicile: Etude chronologique et typologique (Providence and Louvain-la-Neuve 1989 = Archaeologia Transatlantica VIII ) CRAI = Comptes rendus de l’acad´emie des inscriptions et belles lettres Crema, 1959 = L. Crema, L’architettura romana (Turin 1959) Crozzoli Aite, 1981 = L. Crozzoli Aite, ‘I tre tempi del Foro Olitorio,’ MPAA 13 (1981) 37–136 DanskVidenskSelsk = Danske Videnskabernes Salskab. Historisk-Filologisk Meddelelser Dearden, 1976 = C.W. Dearden, The Stage of Aristophanes (London 1976) de Bernardi Ferrero = D. de Bernardi Ferrero, Teatri classici di Asia Minore, 4 vols. (Rome 1966–74) de Franciscis, 1978 = A. de Franciscis, The Buried Cities: Pompeii and Herculaneum (New York 1978) Deiss, 1985 = J.J. Deiss, Herculaneum: Italy’s Buried Treasure, 2nd ed. (New York 1985) de Jong, 1988 = J.J. de Jong, ‘The Temple of Athena Polias at Priene and the Temple of Hemithea at Kastabos,’ BABesch 56 (1988) 129–37 de la Geni`ere, 1989, 1990 = J. de la Geni`ere, ‘Les nouvelles fouilles de Claros, Septembre 1988,’ TurkArkDerg 28 (1989) 287–92; REG 103 (1990) 95–110 ¨ de la Geni`ere, 1992 = J. de la Geni`ere, ‘Le sanctuaire d’Apollon a Claros, d´ecouvertes r´ecentes,’ CRAI (1992) 195–208 de la Geni`ere, 1993 = J. de la Geni`ere, ‘Claros 1992: Bilan provisoire des fouilles dans le sanctuaire d’Apollon,’ REA 95 (1993) 383–92 de la Geni`ere, 1998 = J. de la Geni`ere, ‘Claros: Bilan provisoire de dix campagnes de fouilles,’ REA 100 (1998) 234–56 DeLaine, 1988 = J. DeLaine, ‘Recent Research on Roman Baths,’ JRA 1 (1988) 11–32 DeLaine, 1989 = J. DeLaine, ‘Some Observations on the Transition from Greek to Roman Baths in Hellenistic Italy,’ MeditArch 2 (1989) 111–25 Delorme, 1960 = J. Delorme, Gymnasion (Paris 1960) Delorme, 1982 = J. Delorme, ‘Sphairisterion et gymnase a` Delphes, Delos et ailleurs,’ BCH 106 (1982) 53–73 Delorme, 1986 = J. Delorme, Reallexikon fur ¨ Antike und Christentum 13 (1986) 155–75 Delorme/Marcad´e, 1953 = J. Delorme, J. Marcad´e, ‘La maison dite de l’Herm`es a` Delos,’ BCH 77 (1953) 444–496, 497–615 Deltion = Archaiologikon Deltion Demand, 1986 = Nancy Demand, ‘The Relocation of Priene,’ Phoenix 40 (1986) 35–44

Abbreviations Used in Notes

257

Demargne, 1976 = P. Demargne, ‘L’iconographie dynastique au monument des N´er´eides,’ Recueil Plassart (Paris 1976) 81–95 de Miro, 1955 = E. de Miro, ‘Heraclea Minoa. Il teatro,’ NSc 9 (1955) 261ff. de Miro, 1958 = E. de Miro, ‘Eraclea Minoa. Scavi eseguiti negli anni 1955/56/57,’ NSc 12 (1958) 243–57 de Miro, 1996 = E. de Miro, on the bouleuterion and ‘Oratory of Phalaris’ at Akragas, in Rizza, 1996 Demus-Quatember, 1953 = N. Demus-Quatember, ‘Die Tomben mit Tempelfassade in der Nekropolen ¨ 40 (1953) 112ff. von Norchia,’ OJh Dentzer/Orthmann, 1989 = J.-M. Dentzer, W. Orthmann, eds., Arch´eologie et histoire de la Syrie 2 (Saarbrucken 1989) ¨ De Ridder, 1896 = A. de Ridder, ‘Devis de Livadie,’ BCH 20 (1896) 318–31 Devreker, 1989 = J. Devreker, ‘Pessinonte: Histoire et Fouilles,’ TAD 28 (1989) 165–8 de Waele, 1993 = J.A.K. de Waele, ‘Das Schiffsarsenal des Philon in Pir a¨ us,’ BABesch 68 (1993) 107–20 Diels/Schramm, Philo = H. Diels, E. Schramm, Philon von Byzantion, Poliorketika, AbhBerl (1919) no. 12 Dimitriou/Klammet, 1976 = S. Dimitriou, G. Klammet, Die turkische Westkuste (Vienna 1976) ¨ ¨ Dinsmoor, 1950 = W.B. Dinsmoor, The Architecture of Ancient Greece, 3rd ed. (London 1950) Dinsmoor, 1975 = new edition of Dinsmoor, 1950, with new plates (New York 1975) Di Vita, 1976 = A. di Vita, ‘Il mausoleo punico-ellenistico B di Sabratha,’ R¨omMitt 86 (1976) 273ff. Dorpfeld, 1902 = W. Dorpfeld, ‘Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon, 1900–1901. Die Bauwerke,’ AthMitt 27 ¨ ¨ (1902) 36–9 and figs. 5–6 Dorpfeld, 1904 = W. Dorpfeld, ‘Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon, 1902–1903,’ AthMitt 29 (1904) 116–20 ¨ ¨ Dorpfeld, 1907 = W. Dorpfeld, ‘Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon, 1904–1905,’ AthMitt 32 (1907) 167–89 ¨ ¨ Dorpfeld, 1910 = W. Dorpfeld, ‘Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon, 1908–1909,’ AthMitt 35 (1910) 364–8 ¨ ¨ Dorpfeld/Reisch, 1896 = W. Dorpfeld, E. Reisch, Das griechische Theater (Athens 1896) ¨ ¨ Doruk, 1987 = S. Doruk, ‘Antik Alinda kentindeki pazar yap¯ıs¯ı,’ Belleten 51 (1987) 1117–37 (on the market building at Alinda) Downey, 1961 = G. Downey, A History of Antioch in Syria from Seleucus to the Arab Conquest (Princeton 1961) Downey, 1963 = G. Downey, Ancient Antioch (Princeton 1963) Doxiadis, 1972 = C.A. Doxiadis, Architectural Space in Ancient Greece (Cambridge, Mass. 1972) Dragendorff, 1903 = H. Dragendorff, Thera II (Berlin 1903) Drago, 1960 = C. Drago, EAA 3 (1960) 167–71, on Egnatia Ducrey/Metzger/Reber, 1993 = P. Ducrey, I.R. Metzger, K. Reber, Eretria VIII: Le quartier de la Maison aux Mosaiques (Lausanne 1993) ¨ 10 (1907) 230ff. Durm, 1907 = J. Durm, ‘Die Kuppelgra¨ ber von Pantikapaion,’ OJh Dyggve, 1934 = E. Dyggve, F. Poulsen, K.A. Rhomaios, Das Heroon von Kalydon (Copenhagen 1934) Dyggve, 1952 = E. Dyggve, Lindos: Fouilles et recherches II (Berlin 1952) Dyggve, 1960 = E. Dyggve, Lindos III.1 (Berlin and Copenhagen 1960) EAA = Enciclopedia d’Arte Antica EAD = Exploration arch´eologique de D´elos ´ EMC/CV = Echos du monde classique / Classical Views EncWrldArt 7 = Encyclopedia of World Art, vol. 7 (London 1958) Ergon = To Ergon tes Archaiologikes Etaireias Fabricius, 1881 = E. Fabricius, De architectura graeca commentatio epigraphica (Berlin 1881) Fagan, 1996 = G.G. Fagan, ‘Sergius Orata: Inventor of the Hypocaust?’ Phoenix 50 (1996) 56–66 Falkener, 1881 = J. Falkener, in Antiquities of Ionia 4 (London 1881) Fasolo/Gullini, 1953 = F. Fasolo, G. Gullini, Il Santuario della Fortuna Primigenia a Palestrina (Rome 1953)

258

Abbreviations Used in Notes

FD = Fouilles de Delphes Fedak, 1990 = J. Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age (Toronto 1990) Fehr, 1972 = B. Fehr, ‘Zur Geschichte des Apollon-Heiligtums von Didyma,’ MarbWP (1971/72) 14–69 Fiechter, 1935–6 = E. Fiechter, Antike griechische Theaterbauten 7; Das Dionysos-Theater in Athen 3 (Stuttgart 1935–36) Fink, 1958 = J. Fink, Die Kuppel uber dem Viereck (Munich 1958) ¨ Frank, 1924 = Tenney Frank, Roman Buildings of the Republic (Rome 1924) Franke/Hirmer, 1964 = P.R. Franke, M. Hirmer, Die griechische Munze (Munich 1964) ¨ Fraser, 1972 = P.M. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 3 vols. (Oxford 1972) Fraser, 1977 = P.M. Fraser, Rhodian Funerary Monuments (Oxford 1977) Frazer, 1990 = A. Frazer, Samothrace 10.1: The Propylon of Ptolemy II (Princeton 1990) Frazer, Pausanias = J.G. Frazer, Pausanias’ Description of Greece, 6 vols. (Reprinted New York 1965) FUR = Forma Urbis Romae (the title given to the Severan Marble Plan of ancient Rome) FX = Fouilles de Xanthos Fyfe, 1936 = T. Fyfe, Hellenistic Architecture, an Introductory Study (Cambridge 1936) Gallet de Santerre, 1959 = H. Gallet de Santerre, EAD 24: Le Monument de Granit (Paris 1959) Gardner, 1892 = E.A. Gardner et al., Excavations at Megalopolis (London 1892) Gardner/Casson, 1919 = E.A. Gardner, S. Casson, ‘Macedonia, Antiquities,’ BSA 23 (1918–19) GBRS = Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies Gebhard, 1973 = E. Gebhard, The Theater at Isthmia (Chicago 1973) Gentili, 1954 = G.V. Gentili, ‘Siracusa. Ara di Ierone. Campagne di scavi 1950–51,’ NSc (1954) 333–83 Gibb, 1956 = H.A.R. Gibb, Hakluyt Society 110 and 117 (Cambridge 1956) Ginouv`es, 1959 = R. Ginouv`es, L’´etablissement thermal de Gortys d’Arcadie (Paris 1959) Ginouv`es, 1962 = R. Ginouv`es, Balaneutik´e (Paris 1962) Ginouv`es, 1994 = R. Ginouv`es, ‘Le chˆateau du Tobiade Hyrcan a` Iraq al-Amir,’ Syria 71 (1994) 433–42 Gjerstad, 1932 = E. Gjerstad, in Corolla Archaeologica II (Lund 1932) Gjerstad, 1937 = E. Gjerstad, The Swedish Cyprus Expedition III (Stockholm 1937) Gjerstad, 1948 = E. Gjerstad, The Swedish Cyprus Expedition IV.2 (Stockholm 1948) Gjerstad, 1956 = E. Gjerstad, The Swedish Cyprus Expedition: IV.3 – The Hellenistic and Roman Periods in Cyprus (Stockholm 1956) Gjerstad, 1960 = E. Gjerstad, Early Rome III (Stockholm 1960) Glaser, 1983 = F. Glaser, KRHNAI (Vienna 1983) ¨ 18 (1915) Beiblatt 99–158, on the Val Catena villa Gnirs, 1915 = A. Gnirs, OJh Goethert/Schleif, 1962 = F.W. Goethert, H. Schleif, Der Athenatempel von Ilion (Berlin 1962) Goette, 1995 = H.R. Goette, ‘Beobachtungen am Theater des Amphiaraion von Oropos,’ AthMitt 110 (1995) 253–60 ¨ 59 (1989) 13–58 Gogos, 1989 = S. Gogos, ‘Zur Typologie vorhellenistischer Theaterarchitektur,’ OJh Gogos, 1998 = S. Gogos, ‘Bemerkungen zu den Theatern von Priene und Epidauros sowie zum ¨ 67 (1998) Beiblatt 65–106 Dionysostheater in Athen,’ OJh Goodchild, 1961 = R.G. Goodchild, Antiquaries Journal 41 (1961) 220ff. Grant, 1960 = M. Grant, The World of Rome (London 1960) Grant, 1971 = M. Grant, Cities of Vesuvius: Pompeii and Herculaneum (London 1971) Griffin-Kutbay, 1991 = B. Griffin-Kutbay, ‘Hellenistic Palaces: The Origins of the Plan and Architectural Components’ (Dissertation, Toronto 1991) Grimm, 1998 = G. Grimm, Alexandria (Mainz 1998) Grinnell, 1943 = I. Grinnell, Greek Temples (New York 1943) Gros, 1978 = P. Gros, ‘Le dossier vitruvien d’Hermog´en`es,’ MEFRA 90 (1978) 687–703 GrRomByzStud = Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies Gruben, 1961 = G. Gruben, ‘Beobachtungen zum Artemistempel von Sardis,’ AthMitt 76 (1961) 155–96

Abbreviations Used in Notes

259

Gruben, 1980 = G. Gruben, Die Tempel der Griechen, 3rd ed. (Munich 1980) Guide de D´elos, 1966 = P. Bruneau, J. Ducat, Guide de D´elos (Paris 1966) ´ Guide de Thasos, 1968 = Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, Guide de Thasos (Paris 1968) Hafner, 1972 = G. Hafner, ‘Zwei romische Reliefwerke. Fixpunkte fur ¨ ¨ die Kunstgeschichte der romischen Republik,’ Aachener Kunstbl¨atter 43 (1972) 97–124 ¨ Hamdy Bey/ Reinach, 1892 = O. Hamdy Bey, T. Reinach, Une n´ecropole royale a` Sidon (Paris 1892) Hamilton, 1978 = R. Hamilton, ‘A New Interpretation of the Anavysos Chous,’AJA 82 (1978) 385–7 Hammond, 1967 = N.G.L. Hammond, Epirus (Oxford 1967) Hammond, 1972 = N.G.L. Hammond, A History of Macedonia I (Oxford 1972) Hammond, 1978 = N.G.L. Hammond, ‘Philip’s Tomb in Its Historical Context,’ GrRomByzStud 19 (1978) 331–50 Hammond, 1982 = N.G.L. Hammond, ‘The Evidence for the Identity of the Royal Tombs at Vergina,’ in Philip II, Alexander the Great and the Macedonian Heritage (Washington 1982) 111–27 Hammond, 1997 = N.G.L. Hammond, JHS 117 (1997) 177–9, reaffirming the location of Aigeiai at Vergina Handler, 1971 = S. Handler, ‘Architecture on the Roman Coins of Alexandria,’ AJA 75 (1971) 57–74 Hanfmann, 1975a = G.M.A. Hanfmann, Roman Art (New York 1975) Hanfmann, 1975b = G.M.A. Hanfmann, A Survey of Sardis and the Major Monuments outside the City Walls (Cambridge, Mass. 1975) Hanfmann, 1977 = G.M.A. Hanfmann, ‘On the Palace of Croesus,’ in Brommer, 1977, 151ff. Hansen, 1991 = E. Hansen, ‘Le temple de L´eto au L´etoon de Xanthos,’ RevArch (1991) 323–40 Hansen / Le Roy, 1976 = E. Hansen, C. Le Roy, ‘Au L´etoon de Xanthos: Les deux temples de L´eto,’ RevArch (1976) 317–36 Hanson, 1959 = J.A. Hanson, Roman Theater-Temples (Princeton 1959) Harding, 1959 = G. Lankester Harding, The Antiquities of Jordan (London 1959) Haselberger, 1980 = L. Haselberger, ‘Werkzeichnungen am jungeren Didymeion. Vorbericht,’ IstMitt ¨ 30 (1980) 191–215 die Arbeit am jungeren Haselberger, 1983 = L. Haselberger, ‘Bericht uber Apollontempel von Didyma,’ ¨ ¨ IstMitt 33 (1983) 90–123 Haselberger, 1984 = L. Haselberger, ‘ Die Werkzeichnung des Naiskos im Apollontempel von Didyma,’ Bauplanung 1984, 111–19 Haselberger, 1991 = L. Haselberger, ‘Aspekte der Bauzeichnungen von Didyma,’ RevArch (1991) 99–113 Haselberger, 1996 = L. Haselberger, ‘Bauarbeiten am Apollontempel,’ IstMitt 46 (1996) 153–78 Haspels, 1971 = C.H.E. Haspels, The Highlands of Phrygia (Princeton 1971) Hauschild, 1966 = T. Hauschild, J.M. Begorra, H.G. Niemeyer, ‘Torre de los Escipiones, ein r omischer ¨ Grabturm bei Tarragona,’ MadrMitt 7 (1966) 162ff. Haussoulier, 1900 = B. Haussoulier, ‘Les S´eleucides et le temple d’Apollon Didym´een,’ RevPhil 24 (1900) 245–6 (text of inscription), 251–2 (French translation) Havelock, 1981 = C. Havelock, Hellenistic Art, 2nd ed. (New York 1981) Heilmeyer, 1970 = W.-D. Heilmeyer, Korinthische Normalkapitelle: Studien zur Geschichte der r¨omische Architekturdekoration (R¨omMitt Erg¨anzngsh. 16, Heidelberg 1970) Herzfeld, 1935 = E. Herzfeld, Archaeological History of Iran (Oxford 1935) Herzfeld, 1941 = E. Herzfeld, Iran in the Ancient East (London 1941) Herzog, 1903 = R. Herzog, ‘Vorl¨aufiger Bericht uber der arch¨aologischen Expedition auf der Insel Kos ¨ im Jahre 1902,’ ArchAnz (1903) 10ff. Heurgon, 1969 = J. Heurgon, ConvegnoMagnaGrecia8 9–31 Heuzey/Daumet, 1876 = L. Heuzey, H. Daumet, Mission arch´eologique de Mac´edoine (Paris 1876) Hill/Williams, 1966 = B.H. Hill, C.K. Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea (Princeton 1966)

260

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Hodge, 1960 = A.Trevor Hodge, The Woodwork of Greek Roofs (Cambridge 1960) Hoepfner, 1968 = W. Hoepfner, ‘Zum ionischen Kapitell bei Hermogenes und Vitruv,’ AthMitt 83 (1968) 213–34 Hoepfner, 1984 = W. Hoepfner, ‘Philadelphia. Ein Beitgrag zur fr uhen hellenistischen Architektur,’ ¨ AthMitt 99 (1984) 353–64 Hoepfner, 1989 = W. Hoepfner, ‘Zu den grossen Alta¨ ren von Magnesia und Pergamon,’ ArchAnz (1989) 601–34 Hoepfner, 1992 = W. Hoepfner, ‘Zum Typus der Basileia und der koniglichen Andrones,’ in ¨ Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 1–43 Hoepfner, 1993a = W. Hoepfner, ‘Siegestempel und Siegesalt a¨ re: Der Pergamonaltar als Siegesmonument,’ in Hoepfner/Zimmer, 1993, 111–19 Hoepfner, 1993b = W. Hoepfner, ‘Zum Mausoleum von Belevi,’ ArchAnz (1993) 111–23 Hoepfner, 1997 = W. Hoepfner, ‘Hermogenes und Epigonos: Pergamon zur Zeit Attalos I,’ JdI 112 (1997) 109–43 Hoepfner/Brands, 1992 = W. Hoepfner, G. Brands, Basileia: Die Pal¨aste der hellenistischen K¨onige (Internationales Symposion in Berlin, 1992) (Mainz 1996) Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990 = W. Hoepfner, E.-L. Schwandner, eds., Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur (Mainz 1990) Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1994 = W. Hoepfner, E.-L. Schwandner, eds., Haus und Stadt im klassischen Griechenland, Wohnen in der klassischen Polis I, 2nd ed. (1994) Hoepfner/Zimmer, 1993 = W. Hoepfner, G. Zimmer, eds., Die griechische Polis. Architektur und Politik (Tubingen 1993) ¨ Hoffmann, 1992 = A. Hoffmann, ‘Die Casa del Fauno in Pompeji. Ein Haus wie ein Palast (Kurz-fassung),’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 258–9 Holden, 1964 = B.M. Holden, The Metopes of the Temple of Athena at Ilion (Northampton, Mass. 1964) Holloway, 1991 = R. Ross Holloway, The Archaeology of Ancient Sicily (London and New York 1991) Homo, 1971 = L. Homo, Rome imp´eriale, 2nd ed. (Paris 1971) Hormann, 1932 = H. Hormann, Die inneren Propyl¨aen von Eleusis (Berlin 1932) ¨ ¨ Horn/Ruger, 1980 = H.G. Horn, C.B. Ruger, eds., Die Numider (Bonn 1980) ¨ ¨ Huebner, 1997 = F. Huebner, Ephesos: Gebaute Geschichte (Mainz 1997) IG = Inscriptiones Graecae IstMitt = Istanbuler Mitteilungen Ito, 2002a = J. Ito, Theory and Practice of Site Planning in Classical Sanctuaries (Kyushu University Press, Japan 2002) Ito, 2002b = J. Ito, Architectural Studies of the Three Grave Monuments in the Gymnasium Complex at Ancient Messene (Kumamoto, Japan 2002) Ito, 2004 = J. Ito et al., New Measurements and Observations on the Treasury of Massaliotes, the Doric Treasury and the Tholos in the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia at Delphi, 2 vols. (Kyushu University Press, Japan 2004) Izenour, 1992, = G.C. Izenour, Roofed Theatres of Classical Antiquity (New Haven and London 1992) Jannoray, 1953 = J. Jannoray, Fouilles de Delphes II.9: Le gymnase (Paris 1953) JdI = Jahrbuch des deutschen arch¨aologischen Instituts Jeffery, 1915 = G. Jeffery, ‘Rock-cutting and Tomb-architecture in Cyprus during the Graeco-Roman Occupation,’ Archaeologia 66 (1914–15) 159ff. Jeppesen, 1957 = K. Jeppesen, Paradeigmata (Aarhus 1957) Jeppesen, 1976 = K. Jeppesen, ‘Neue Ergebnisse zur Widerherstellung des Maussolleions von Halikarnassos,’ IstMitt 26 (1976) 47–99

Abbreviations Used in Notes

261

Jeppesen, 1978 = K. Jeppesen, ‘Zur Grundung und Baugeschichte des Maussolleions von ¨ Halikarnassos,’ IstMitt 27/28 (1977/78) 169–211 Jeppesen, 1983 = K. Jeppesen, ‘Did Vitruvius ever visit Halikarnassos,’ Anadolu 22 (1981/83) 85–98 Jeppesen, 1984 = K. Jeppesen, ‘Zu den Proportionen des Maussolleions von Halikarnass,’ in Bauplanung 167–74 Jeppesen, 1989 = K. Jeppesen, ‘What Did the Maussolleion Look Like?’ in Linders/Hellstrom, 1989, 15–22 Jeppesen, 1995 = K. Jeppesen, ‘Le mausol´ee d’Halicarnasse,’ in Les sept merveilles du monde (= Dossiers Arch´eologiques 202 [April 1995]) 49–53 Jeppesen, 2002 = K. Jeppesen, The Mausolleion at Halikarnassos 5 (Hojbjerg 2002) ¨ Jeppesen/Luttrell, 1986 = K. Jeppesen, A. Luttrell, The Maussolleion at Halikarnassos 2: The Written Sources and Their Archaeological Background (Aarhus 1986) JHS = Journal of Hellenic Studies Johannowsky, 1970 = W. Johannowsky, ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 148–57 (on Naples in Hellenistic times), 206–11 (on Capua) Johannowsky, 1976 = W. Johanowsky, ‘La situazione in Campania,’ in Zanker, 1976, 271–2 Johannowsky, 1982 = W. Johannowsky, ‘Considerazioni sullo sviluppo urbano e la cultura materiale di Velia,’ ParPass 37 (1982) 225–46 Kader, 1995 = I. Kader, ‘Heroa und Memorialbauten,’ in Worrle/Zanker, 1995, 199–229 ¨ K¨ahler, 1948 = H. K¨ahler, Der grosse Fries von Pergamon (Berlin 1948) K¨ahler, 1963 = H. Kaehler, The Art of Rome and Her Empire (New York 1963) K¨ahler, 1971 = H. K¨ahler, Lindos (Zurich 1971) Kalligas, 1963 = E. Kalligas, Deltion 18 (1963) Chron. 12–18 K¨appel, 1989 = L. K¨appel, JdI 104 (1989) 83–106 Kardhara, 1988 = C. Kardhara, Aphrodite Erykine: hieron kai manteion eis ten boreiodytiken Arkadian (Athens 1988) Karlsson, 1992 = L. Karlsson, Fortification Towers and Masonry Techniques in the Hegemony of Syracuse (Stockholm 1992) Kasper, 1975 = S. Kasper, ‘Der Tumulus von Belevi,’ ArchAnz (1975) 223ff. Kawerau/Rehm, 1914 = G. Kawerau, A. Rehm, Milet I.5: Das Delphinion von Milet (Berlin 1914) Kawerau/Wiegand, 1930 = G. Kawerau, T. Wiegand, AvP V (Berlin 1930) ¨ 29 (1935) 116–45 Keil, 1935 = J. Keil, ‘Vorl¨aufiger Bericht uber die Ausgrabungen in Ephesos,’ OJh ¨ Keil/Wilhelm, 1931 = J. Keil, A. Wilhelm, Denkm¨aler aus dem rauhen Kilikien (= MAMA III, Manchester 1931) Kirsten/Kraiker, 1962 = E. Kirsten, W. Kraiker, Griechenlandkunde, 4th ed. (Heidelberg 1962) Kjeldsen/Zahle, 1975 = K. Kjeldsen, J. Zahle, ‘Lykische Gr a¨ ber,’ ArchAnz (1975) 312–50 Klause, 1972 = C. Klause, Eretria 4: Das Westtor (Bern 1972) Klein, 1998 = N.L. Klein, ‘Evidence for West Greek Influence on Mainland Greek Roof Construction and the Creation of the Truss in the Archaic Period,’ Hesperia 67 (1998) 335–74 Kleiner, 1968 = G. Kleiner, Die Ruinen von Milet (Berlin 1968) Klinkott, 1989 = M. Klinkott, ‘Die ambulationes pensiles in der pergamenischen Stadtbaukunst,’ IstMitt 39 (1989) 273–80 Kloner, 1996 = A. Kloner, Mareshah: A Guidebook (Jerusalem 1996, in Hebrew) Klumbach, 1937 = H. Klumbach, Tarentiner Grabkunst (Reutlingen 1937) Knackfuss, 1908 = H. Knackfuss, Milet I.2: Das Rathaus von Milet (Berlin 1908) Knackfuss, 1924 = H. Knackfuss, Milet I.7 (Berlin 1924) Kockel, 1995 = V. Kockel, ‘Bouleuteria: Architektonische Form und urbanistische Kontext,’ in Worrle/Zanker, 1995, 29–40 ¨

262

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Koenigs, 1983 = W. Koenigs, ‘Der Athenatempel von Priene,’ IstMitt 33 (1983) 134–75 Koenigs, 1984 = Die Echohalle (Berlin 1984) Kolb/Kupke, 1992 = F. Kolb, B. Kupke, Lykien: Geschichte Lykiens im Altertum (Mainz 1992) Koldewey, 1890 = R. Koldewey, Die antiken Baureste der Insel Lesbos (Berlin 1890) Kontis, 1963 = I.D. Kontis, Gnomon 35 (1963) 392–404 (review of Dyggve, 1960) Kraeling, 1962 = C.H. Kraeling, Ptolemais: City of the Libyan Pentapolis (Chicago 1962) Krauss, 1973 = F. Krauss, Milet IV.1: Das Theater von Milet (Berlin 1973) Krencker/Zschietzschmann, 1938 = D. Krencker, W. Zschietzschmann, R¨omische Tempel in Syrien, 2 vols. (Berlin 1938) Krischen, 1922 = F. Krischen, Milet III.2: Die Befestigungen von Herakleia am Latmos (Berlin 1922) Krischen, 1941a = F. Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeji und griechische Festungsbaukunst in Unteritalien und Sizilien (Berlin 1941) Krischen, 1941b = F. Krischen, Antike Rath¨auser (Berlin 1941) Krischen, 1944 = F. Krischen, ‘Lowenmonument und Maussolleion,’ R¨omMitt 59 (1944) 173ff. ¨ Kuhn, 1984 = G. Kuhn, ‘Der Altar der Artemis in Ephesos,’ AthMitt 99 (1984) 199–216 Kunze, 1959 = E. Kunze, Neue deutsche Ausgrabungen im Mittelmeergebiet (Berlin 1959) Kunze/Schleif, 1944 = E. Kunze, H. Schleif, Olympia Bericht IV (Berlin 1944) Kurtz/Boardman, 1971 = D.C. Kurtz, J. Boardman, Greek Burial Customs (London 1971) Kyrieleis, 1981 = H. Kyrieleis, Fuhrer durch das Heraion von Samos (Athens 1981) ¨ Lane Fox, 1980 = R. Lane Fox, The Search for Alexander (Boston and Toronto 1980) Lapalus, 1939 = E. Lapalus, EAD XIX: L’agora des Italiens (Paris 1939) La Riche, 1996 = W. La Riche, Alexandria: The Sunken City (London 1996) Lassus, 1972 = J. Lassus, Antioch-on-the-Orontes V: Les portiques d’Antioche (Princeton 1972) Lauter, 1971 = H. Lauter, ‘Reisenotizen aus Karien,’ BonnJhb 171 (1971) 133–9 Lauter, 1972 = H. Lauter, ‘Kunst und Landschaft – ein Beitrag zum rhodischen Hellenismus,’ AntKunst 15 (1972) 149ff. Lauter, 1977 = H. Lauter, ‘Ptolemais in Libyen, ein Beitrag zur Baukunst Alexandrias,’ JdI 86 (1977) 149ff. Lauter, 1986 = H. Lauter, Die Architektur des Hellenismus (Darmstadt 1986) Lawrence, 1946 = A.W. Lawrence, JHS 66 (1946) 99–107 Lawrence, 1957 = A.W. Lawrence, Greek Architecture (Harmondsworth 1957) Lawrence, 1979 = A.W. Lawrence, Greek Aims in Fortification (Oxford 1979) Lawrence, 1983 = A.W. Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed. (Revised by R.A. Tomlinson, Harmondsworth 1983) D. Lazarides, 1982, 1983 = Dimitris Lazarides, ‘Anaskaphes kai ereunes tes Amphipoles,’ Praktika (1982) 48–9; ‘Anaskaphes kai ereunes sten Amphipole,’ Praktika (1983) 35–7 K.D. Lazarides, 1985–9 = Kalliope D. Lazarides, reports on the excavation of the gymnasium at Amphipolis, Praktika (1985–9) and Ergon (1985–9) K.D. Lazarides, 1990 = K.D. Lazarides, summary of discoveries in the gymnasium at Amphipolis, in Polis kai chora sten archaia Makedonia kai Thrake (Thessalonike 1990) 243 K.D. Lazarides, 1995 = K.D. Lazarides, Praktika (1995) 217 and pls. 94a–96, on the bathtubs in the Amphipolis gymnasium K.D. Lazarides, 1996 = K.D. Lazarides, on preservation of the ruins of the Amphipolis gym, in Praktika (1996) 271–2 K. Lehmann, 1953 = Karl Lehmann, ‘Samothrace: Sixth Preliminary Report,’ Hesperia 22 (1953) 1–24 K. Lehmann, 1962 = K. Lehmann, Samothrace 4.1: The Hall of Votive Gifts (New York 1962) K. Lehmann, 1983 = K. Lehmann, Samothrace: A Guide to the Excavations and Museum, 5th ed., rev. and enlarged (Locust Valley, New York 1983)

Abbreviations Used in Notes

263

P.W. Lehmann, 1953 = Phyllis W. Lehmann, Roman Wall Paintings from Boscoreale in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Cambridge, Mass. 1953) P.W. Lehmann, 1954 = P.W. Lehmann, JSAH 13 (1954) 15–19 P.W. Lehmann, 1969 = P.W. Lehmann, Samothrace 3: The Hieron (Princeton 1969) Le Roy, 1985 = C. Le Roy, ‘Le trac´e et le plan d’un villa hell´enistique: La maison de Fourni a` D´elos,’ in Le dessin d’architecture dans les soci´et´es antiques: Actes du Colloque de Strasbourg 1985, 167–73 Le Roy, 1991 = C. Le Roy, ‘Le d´eveloppement monumental du L´etoon de Xanthos,’ RevArch (1991) 341–51 Le Roy, 1995 = C. Le Roy, EAA SecSuppl III 348–50, s.v. ‘Letoon’ L´evˆeque, 1970 = P. L´evˆeque, ‘Probl`emes historiques de l’´epoque hell´enistique en Grande Gr`ece,’ ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 29–67 Liberati/Bourbon, 1996 = A.M. Liberati, F. Bourbon, Ancient Rome (New York 1996) Linders/Hellstrom, 1989 = T. Linders, P. Hellstrom, Architecture and Society in Hecatomnid Caria (= ¨ ¨ Boreas 17, Uppsala 1989) Linfert, 1976 = A. Linfert, Kunstzentren hellenistischer Zeit (Wiesbaden 1976) Linfert, 1995 = A. Linfert, ‘Prunkalta¨ re,’ in Worrle/Zanker, 1995, 131–46 ¨ Lippolis, 1989 = E. Lippolis, ‘Il santuario di Athana a Lindo,’ Annuario 66–7 (1988–9) 97–157 Lippstreu, 1993 = J. Lippstreu, ‘Antiochos IV. von Syrien und Eumenes II. von Pergamon als Architekturstifter,’ in Hoepfner/Zimmer, 1993, 146–51 Lloyd, 1973 = G.E. Lloyd, Greek Science after Aristotle (London 1973) Lohde, 1866 = L. Lohde, ‘Romischer Tempel zu Alexandrien,’ ArchZeit 24 (1866) 179 and pl. CCX ¨ Lo Porto, Egnatia = G.G. Lo Porto, PECS 357–8, on Egnatia Love, 1970, 1972, 1973 = I.C. Love, ‘Preliminary Report of the Excavation of Knidos, 1969; 1970, 1971; 1972,’ AJA 74 (1970) 149–55; 76 (1972) 61–76, 397–419; 77 (1973) 413–22 Lugli, 1934 = G. Lugli, Monumenti antichi di Roma e suburbio II (Rome 1934) Lugli, 1946 = G. Lugli, Roma antica: Il centro monumentale (Rome 1946) Lyttelton, 1974 = M. Lyttelton, Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity (London 1974) MAAR = Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome MacDonald, 1965 = W.L. MacDonald, Architecture of the Roman Empire I (New Haven 1965) Macridy, 1911 = T. Macridy, ‘Un tumulus mac´edonien a` Langaza,’ JdI 26 (1911) 193–215 MadrMitt = Madrider Mitteilungen Magnesia, 1904 = C. Humann et al., Magnesia am M¨aander (Berlin 1904) Maiuri, 1949 = A. Maiuri, Pompeii, 2nd ed. (Rome 1949) Maiuri, Ricerca = A. Maiuri, Alla ricerca di Pompeii preromana (Naples 1973) Makaronas/Giouri, 1989 = C. Makaronas, E. Giouri, Oi oikies arpages tes Elenes kai Dionysou tes Pellas (Athens 1989) Mallwitz, 1972 = A. Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten (Darmstadt 1972) Mallwitz, 1981 = A. Mallwitz, Olympia Bericht X (Berlin 1981) 370–83, on the Kladeos embankment wall MAMA = Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua Mansel, 1963 = A.M. Mansel, Die Ruinen von Side (Berlin 1963) Mansuelli, 1965 = G.A. Mansuelli, The Art of Etruria and Early Rome (New York 1965) Marcad´e, 1979 = J. Marcad´e, ‘Les m´etopes mutil´ees de la Tholos de Marmaria a` Delphes,’ CRAI (1979) 151–70 Marcad´e, 1994 = J. Marcad´e, ‘Rapport pr´eliminaire sur le groupe cultuel du temple d’Apollon a` Claros,’ REA 96 (1994) 447–54 Marconi, 1929 = P. Marconi, Agrigento (Florence 1929) Marsden, 1969 = E.W. Marsden, Greek and Roman Artillery: Historical Development (Oxford 1969) Martin, 1951 = R. Martin, Recherches sur l’agora grecque (Paris 1951)

264

Abbreviations Used in Notes

´ Martin, 1959 = R. Martin, Etudes Thasiennes VI: L’agora I (Paris 1959) Martin, 1965 = R.Martin, Manuel d’architecture grecque I: Mat´eriaux et techniques (Paris 1965) Martin, 1968 = R. Martin, ‘Sculpture et peinture dans les fac¸ades monumentales au IVe. si e` cle av. J.-C.,’ RevArch (1968–69) 167ff. Martin, 1969 = R. Martin, ConvegnoMagnaGrecia8 120–26, in discussion of Pugliese Caratelli, 1969 Martin, 1970 = R. Martin, ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 127–31, in discussion of L e´ vˆeque, 1970, and Adriani, 1970 Martin, 1973 = R. Martin, ‘Architecture,’ in J. Charbonneaux, R. Martin, F. Villard, Hellenistic Art 350–50 BC (London 1973) 1–94 Martini, 1984 = W. Martini, Samos 16: Das Gymnasion von Samos (Bonn 1984) Marzolff, 1979 = P. Marzolff, ‘Burgerliches und herrscherliches Wohnen in hellenistischen Demetrias,’ ¨ Wohnungsbau im Altertum (Berlin 1979) 129–44 Marzolff, 1992 = P. Marzolff, ‘Der Palast von Demetrias,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 148–63 Marzolff/Milojcic/Theochares, 1976 = P. Marzolff, B. Milojcic, D. Theochares, Demetrias I (1976) Matheson, 1972 = S. Matheson, Persia: An Archaeological Guide (London 1972) McCredie, 1979 = J.R. McCredie, ‘Samothrace. Supplementary Investigations 1968–1971,’ Hesperia 48 (1979) 1–44 McCredie, 1992.1–2 = J.R. McCredie et al., Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, 2 vols. (Princeton 1992) McDonald, 1943 = W.A. McDonald, The Political Meeting-Places of the Greeks (Baltimore 1943) McKay, 1975 = A.G. McKay, Houses, Villas and Palaces in the Roman World (London and Ithaca, NY, 1975) McKenzie, 1990 = J. McKenzie, The Architecture of Petra (Oxford 1990) McNicoll, 1997 = A.W. McNicoll, Hellenistic Fortifications from the Aegean to the Euphrates (Oxford 1997) ´ MEFRA = M´elanges de l’Ecole franc¸aise de Rome. Antiquit´e Mertens, 1960 = J. Mertens, Alba Fucens . . . 1950–60 (Avezzano 1960) Mertens, 1969 = J. Mertens, Alba Fucens I–II (Brussels and Rome 1969) Metzger, 1966 = H. Metzger, ‘Fouilles de L´etoon de Xanthos,’ RevArch (1966) 101–8 Metzger/Coupel, 1963 = H. Metzger, P. Coupel, FX II: L’acropole lycienne (Paris 1963) Michalowski, n.d. = K. Michalowski, Art of Ancient Egypt (New York n.d.) S. Miller, 1971 = Stella G. Miller, ‘Hellenistic Macedonian Architecture: Its Style and Painted Ornamentation’ (Diss., Bryn Mawr 1971) S. Miller, 1973 = Stella G. Miller, ‘The Philippeion and Macedonian Hellenistic Architecture,’ AthMitt 88 (1973) 189–218 S.G. Miller, 1973 = Stephen G. Miller, ‘The Date of the West Building of the Argive Heraion,’ AJA 77 (1973) 9–18 S.G. Miller, 1978 = Stephen G. Miller, Prytaneion (Berkeley 1978) S.G. Miller, 1979, 1980a = Stephen G. Miller, on the excavation of the stadium at Nemea, Hesperia 48 (1979) 93–103; 49 (1980) 198–200 S.G. Miller, 1980b = Stephen G. Miller, ‘Turns and Lanes in the Ancient Stadium,’ AJA 84 (1980) 159–66 S.G. Miller, 1990 = Stephen G. Miller, ed., Nemea: A Guide to the Site and the Museum (Berkeley 1990), S.G. Miller, 2001 = Stephen G. Miller, ed., Excavations at Nemea 2: The Early Hellenistic Stadium (Berkeley 2001) Misaelidou-Despotidou, 1988 = V. Misaelidou-Despotidou, ‘Anaskaphe sto anaktoro tes Pellas: Tomeas ypostylou domatiou,’ ArchErgMakThrak 2 (1988) 101–9 Misaelidou-Despotidou, 1989 = V. Misaelidou-Despotidou, ArchErgMakThrak 3 (1989) 67–72 Mitens, 1988 = K. Mitens, Teatri greci e teatri ispirati all’architettura greca in Sicilia e nell’ Italia meridionale, c. 350–50 a.C (= AnalRom Supp.XIII Rome [1988])

Abbreviations Used in Notes

265

Mlynarczyk, 1992 = J. Mlynarczyk, ‘Palaces of strategoi and the Ptolemies in Nea Paphos. Topographical Remarks,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 193–202 Mobius, 1927 = H. Mobius, ‘Attische Architekturstudien,’ AthMitt 52 (1927) 162–96 ¨ ¨ Momigliano, 1942 = A. Momigliano, ‘Camillus and Concord,’ CQ 36 (1942) 111–20 Moschos, 1979, 1988 = T. Moschos, Peloponnesiaka 23 (1978–9) 72–114 and ‘Periptose ton dyo naon sta Kionia tes Notias Lakonikes,’ PraktXIIDiethnSynedrKlasArchaiol 4 (Athens 1988) 140–7 MPAA = Memorie della Pontificia Accademia di archaeologia Muller, 1905 = K.F. Muller, Der Leichenwagen Alexanders des Grossen (Leipzig 1905) ¨ ¨ Murray, 1917/1970 = S.B. Murray, Hellenistic Architecture in Syria (Princeton 1917, repr. Amsterdam 1970) ¨ Muss, 1994 = U. Muss, Die Bauplastik des archaischen Artemisions von Ephesos (= OJh, Sonderschr. 25, Vienna 1994) Mussche, 1963 = H.F. Mussche, Monumenta Graeca et Romana II.2: Civil and Military Architecture (Leiden 1963) Mylonas, 1961 = G.E. Mylonas, Eleusis and the Eleusinian Mysteries (Princeton 1961) Napoli, 1966 = M. Napoli, ‘La ricerca archeologica di Velia,’ ParPass 21 (1966) 191–226 Napoli, 1969 = M. Napoli, ConvegnoMagnaGrecia8 281–6 Napoli, 1970 = M. Napoli, ‘L’attivit`a archeologica nelle provincie di Avellino, Benevento e Salerno,’ ConvegnoMagnaGrecia9 179–90 Nash, 1961 = E. Nash, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Rome I (London 1961) Nash, 1962 = E. Nash, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Rome II (London 1962) NatGeogMag = National Geographic Magazine Negev, 1976 = A. Negev, ‘Die Nabat¨aer,’ AntWelt (1976) 79–80 Negev, 1977 = A. Negev, ‘The Nabataeans and the Provincia Arabia,’ in Aufstieg und Niedergang der r¨omischen Welt II: Principat 8 (Berlin and New York 1977) Nevett, 2000 = L. Nevett, ‘A Real Estate “Market” in Classical Greece,’ BSA 95 (2000) 329–43 Newton, 1862 = C.T. Newton, A History of the Discoveries at Halicarnassus, Cnidus and Branchidae (London 1862) Newton, 1865 = C.T. Newton, Travels and Discoveries in the Levant (London 1865) Newton, 1880 = C.T. Newton, Essays on Art and Archaeology (London 1880) Nielsen, 1985 = I. Nielsen, ‘Considerazioni sulle prime fasi dell’ evoluzione del edificio termale romano,’ AnalRom 14 (1985) 81–112. Nielsen, 1990 = I. Nielsen, Thermae et Balnea (Aarhus 1990) Nielsen, 1992 = I. Nielsen, ‘Oriental Models for Hellenistic Palaces,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 209–12 Nielsen, 1994 = I. Nielsen, Hellenistic Palaces (Aarhus 1994) Niese, 1903 = B. Niese, Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten 3 (Gotha 1903) Norman, 1984 = N. Norman, ‘The Temple of Alea Athena at Tegea,’ AJA 88 (1984) 168–94 Noshy, 1937 = I. Noshy, The Arts in Ptolemaic Egypt (London 1937) Oberleitner, 1994 = W. Oberleitner, Das Heroon von Trysa (Mainz 1994) ¨ = Osterreichische ¨ OJh Jahresheft Oleson, 1976 = J.P. Oleson, ‘The Source and Mechanics of Non-Italian Influence on Later Etruscan Tomb Design,’ ArchNews 5 (1976) 115–23 Onians, 1979 = J. Onians, Art and Thought in the Hellenistic Age (London 1979) Orlandini/Adamesteanu, 1960 = P. Orlandini, ‘Gela. Nuovi scavi,’ NSc (1960) 181–211 (on the bath at Gela) Orlandos, 1966 = A. Orlandos, Les mat´eriaux de construction et la technique architecturale des anciens grecs ´ I (= Ecole franc¸aise d’Ath`enes, Travaux et M´emoires Fasc XVI Paris 1966)

266

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Orlandos, 1968 = A. Orlandos, Les mat´eriaux de construction et la technique architecturale des anciens Grecs II (Paris 1968) Orlandos, 1975 = A. Orlandos, in Neue Untersuchungen in griechischen Heiligtumern, ed. U. Jantzen (1975) ¨ OudMed = Oudheidkundige Mededelingen ¨ ¨ Ozgan, 1982 = R. Ozgan, ‘Zur Datierung des Artemisaltares in Magnesia am M a¨ ander,’ IstMitt 32 (1982) 196–209 Papachatzis, 1976, 1979, 1980, 1981 = N.D. Papachatzis, Pausaniou Ellados Periegesis (Vols. II–V, Athens 1976, 1979, 1980, 1981) Papadopoulos, 1996 = J.K. Papadopoulos, ‘The Original Kerameikos of Athens and the Siting of the Classical Agora,’ GRBS 37 (1996) 107–28, esp. 125–6 Papakonstandinou-Dhiamandourou, 1971 = D. Papakonstandinou-Dhiamndourou, Pella I (Athens 1971) Paraskevaidis, 1962 = M. Paraskevaidis, ‘Archaeological Research in Greek Macedonia and Thrace,’ Balkan Studies 3 (1962) Parsons, 1936 = A.W. Parsons, in R. Carpenter and A.W. Parsons, Corinth III.2: The Fortifications of Acrocorinth and the Lower Town (Princeton 1936) ParPass = Parola del Passato Patrucco, 1976 = R. Patrucco, Lo stadio di Epidauro (Florence 1976) Pavlovskis, 1973 = Z. Pavlovskis, Man in an Artificial Landscape (Leyden 1973) Payne, 1936 = H. Payne, Archaic Marble Sculpture from the Acropolis (London 1936) PBSR = Papers of the British School at Rome PECS = Princeton Encyclopedia of Classical Sites (Princeton 1976) Pedersen, 1991 = P. Pedersen, The Maussolleion at Halikarnassos 3.1–2: The Maussolleion Terrace (Aarhus 1991) Penrose, 1888/1973 = F.C. Penrose, Principles of Athenian Architecture (London 1888, repr. Washington, 1973) Perini, 1971 = M.G. Perini, ‘La tomba di Menecrate a Barca in Cirenaica,’ QuadArcheolLib 6 (Rome 1971) 23–4 Pesce, 1950 = G. Pesce, Il Palazzo delle Colonne a Tolemaide (Rome 1950) Peters/ Thiersch, 1905 = J.P. Peters, H. Thiersch, Painted Tombs in the Necropolis of Marissa (London 1905) Petersen / von Luschan, 1889 = E. Petersen, F. von Luschan, Reisen in Lykien II (Vienna 1889) Petrakos, 1967a = B. Petrakos, ‘Anaskaphe tou naou ton Messon Lesbou,’ Praktika (1967) 90–102 Petrakos, 1967b, 1968a = B. Petrakos, ‘Messa Lesbou,’ Ergon (1967) 80–2, (1968) 72–5 Petrakos, 1968b = B. Petrakos, To Amphiaraion tou Oropou (Athens 1968) Petrakos, 1977 = B. Petrakos, Delphi (Athens 1977) Petsas, 1961 = P. Petsas, ‘Macedonian Tombs,’ AttiVII.CongrInternazArcheolClass I (Rome 1961) 400ff. Petsas, 1966 = P. Petsas, O taphos ton Lefkadion (Athens 1966) Petsas, 1978 = P. Petsas, Pella, Alexander the Great’s Capital (Thessalonike 1978) Pfrommer, 1986 = M. Pfrommer, ‘Bemerkungen zum Tempel von Messa auf Lesbos,’ IstMitt 36 (1986) 77–94 Pfrommer, 1992 = M. Pfrommer, ‘Fassade und Heiligtum: Beobachtungen zur architektonischen Repr¨asentation des vierten Ptolem¨aers,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992 Picard, 1948 = C. Picard, Manuel d’arch´eologie grecque: La sculpture III: IVe. si`ecle (premi`ere partie) (Paris 1948) Picard, 1965 = G. Picard, Living Architecture: Roman (London 1965) Pinkwart/Stamnitz, 1984 = D. Pinkwart, W. Stamnitz et al., AvP XIV: Peristylh¨auser westlich der unteren Agora (Berlin 1984)

Abbreviations Used in Notes

267

Platner/Ashby, 1929 = S.B. Platner, T. Ashby, A Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome (Oxford 1929) Plommer, 1973 = H. Plommer, Vitruvius and Later Roman Building Manuals (Cambridge 1973) Pohlmann, 1995 = E. Pohlmann, ed., Studien zur Buhnendichtung und zum Theaterbau der Antike ¨ ¨ ¨ (Frankfurt am Main 1995) Poinssot, 1958 = C. Poinssot, Les ruines de Dougga (Tunis 1958) Poinssot/Salomonson, 1963 = C. Poinssot, J.W. Salomonson, ‘Un monument punique inconnu: Le mausol´e d’Henchir Djaouf,’ OudMed 44 (1963) 65ff. Polacco, 1990 = L. Polacco, Il teatro di Dioniso Eleutereo ad Atene (Rome 1990) Pollitt, 1965 = J.J. Pollitt, The Art of Greece (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1965) Porada, 1969 = E. Porada, The Art of Ancient Iran (New York 1969) Pouilloux, 1960 = J. Pouilloux, FD II: Topographie et architecture: La r´egion nord du sanctuaire (Paris 1960) Poulsen, 1925 = F. Poulsen, Etruscan Tomb Paintings (Oxford 1925) Pounder, 1980 = R. Pounder, ‘A Hellenistic Arsenal at Athens,’ AJA 84 (1980) 227 (abstract) Pounder, 1983 = R. Pounder, ‘A Hellenistic Arsenal at Athens,’ Hesperia 52 (1983) 233–56 Praktika = Praktika tes en Athenais Archaiologikes Etaireias Praschniker, 1949 = C. Praschniker, ‘Die Datierung des Mausoleums von Belevi,’ AnzWien 20 (1949) Praschniker/Theuer, 1979 = C. Praschniker, M. Theuer, W. Alzinger et al., Forschungen in Ephesos VI: Das Mausoleum von Belevi (Vienna 1979) Price, 1968 = D. de Solla Price, ‘The Waterclock in the Tower of the Winds,’ AJA 72 (1968) 345–55 Price, 1974 = D. de Solla Price, Gears from the Greeks (TransAmPhilSoc n.s. 64.7, Philadelphia 1974) Priene, 1904 = T. Wiegand, H. Schrader, Priene: Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in den Jahren 1895–1898 (Berlin 1904) Protonotariou-Dheilaki, 1962 = E. Protonotariou-Dheilaki, ‘Anaskaphe Pheneou 1958, 1959, 1961,’ Deltion 17 (1961–2) 57–61 and pls. 62–6 Pugliese Caratelli, 1969 = G. Pugliese Caratelli, ‘Lazio, Roma e Magna Grecia prima del secolo IV. a.c.,’ ConvegnoMagnaGrecia8 49–79 Pugliese Caratelli, 1996 = G. Pugliese Caratelli, ed., The Greek World: Art and Civilization in Magna Graecia and Sicily (Milan 1996) QuadArcheolLib = Quaderni di Acheologia della Libia Quilici, 1968 = L. Quilici, ‘A proposito del secondo aggere di Ardea,’ ArchCl 20 (1968) 137–40 Radt, 1970 = W. Radt, Siedlungen und Bauten auf der Halbinsel von Halikarnassos (= IstMitt Beiheft 3, 1970) Raeder, 1988 = J. Raeder, ‘Vitruv, de Architectura VI 7, und die hellenistische Wohnhaus und Palastarchitektur,’ Gymnasium 95 (1988) 316–68 Rakob, 1980 = F. Rakob, ‘Numidische Konigsarchitektur in Nordafrika,’ in Horn/Ruger, 1980, 119–71 ¨ ¨ Rakob/Heilmeyer, 1973 = F. Rakob, W.-D. Heilmeyer, Der Rundtempel am Tiber in Rom (Mainz 1973) Rawson, 1975 = E. Rawson, ‘Architecture and Sculpture: The Activities of the Cossutii,’ PBSR 43 (1975) 36–8 RE = Realenkyklop¨adie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft ´ REG = Revue des Etudes Grecques Reinach/Lebas, 1888 = S. Reinach, P. Le Bas, Voyage arch´eologique en Gr`ece et en Asie Mineure (Paris 1888) Reisner, 1924 = G. Reisner, Harvard Excavations at Samaria II (Cambridge 1924) Reuther, 1957 = O. Reuther, Der Heratempel von Samos (Berlin 1957) RevArch = Revue Arch´eologique RevPhil = Revue de Philologie Rhomaios, 1951 = K.A. Rhomaios, Makedonikos taphos tes Verginas (Athens 1951)

268

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Rhomiopoulou, 1973 = K. Rhomiopoulou, ‘A New Monumental Chamber Tomb with Paintings of the Hellenistic Period near Lefkadia,’ AAA 6 (1973) 87–92 Riad, 1967 = H. Riad, ‘Quatre tombeaux de la n´ecropole ouest d’Alexandrie,’ BulletinSocArch´eolAlexandrie (1967) 82–9 (Tomb 1) Richardson, 1976 = L. Richardson, Jr, ‘The Evolution of the Porticus Octaviae,’ AJA 80 (1976) 57–64, esp. 58–9 Richardson, 1992 = L. Richardson, Jr, A New Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome (Baltimore 1992) Richardson, PECS = L. Richardson, Jr., article on Praeneste in PECS Riemann, 1952 = H. Riemann, ‘Vitruv und der griechische Tempel,’ ArchAnz 1952, 1–38 RivIstArchStorArte = Rivista del Istituto di Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte Rizza, 1996 = G. Rizza, ed., Atti del Congresso Sicilia e Anatolia (1996) L. Robert, 1968 = Louis Robert, ‘De Delphes a` l’Oxus. Inscriptions grecques nouvelles de la Bactrienne,’ CRAI (1968) 416–57, especially 417–26 L. Robert, 1983 = Louis Robert, Fouilles d’Amyzon I (Paris 1983) J. Robert, 1995 = J(eanne) Robert, EAA SecSuppl. III (Rome 1995) s.v. ‘Klaros’ Robertson, 1945 = D.S. Robertson, A Handbook of Greek and Roman Architecture, 2nd ed. (Cambridge 1945) Robinson, 1940 = D.M. Robinson, RE Suppl 7 (Stuttgart 1940) 253–4, s.v. ‘Haus’ Robinson, 1946 = D.M. Robinson, Excavations at Olynthus 12 (Baltimore 1946) Robinson/Graham, 1938 = D.M. Robinson, J. Walter Graham, Olynthus VIII (Baltimore 1938) Rodziewicz, 1995 = M. Rodziewicz, ‘Ptolemaic Street Directions in Basileia (Alexandria),’‘ in Bonacasa / DiVita, 1995, 227–35 Roger, 1939 = O.J. Roger, ‘Le Monument au Lion d’Amphipolis,’ BCH 63 (1939) 30ff. Rolland, 1969 = H. Rolland, Le mausol´ee de Glanum (= Gallia Supp. XXI, Paris 1969) R¨omMitt = R¨omische Mitteilungen Ronczewski, 1927a = K. Ronczewski, ‘Derscription des chapiteaux corinthiens et vari e´ s du Mus´ee ´ Gr´eco-romain d’Alexandrie (Egypte),’ Latvijas universit¨ates ratski 16 (1927) 3–32 Ronczewski, 1927b = K. Ronczewski, ‘Kapitelle aus Tarent,’ ArchAnz (1927) 263–96 Ronczewski, 1932 = K. Ronczewski, ‘Die Kapitelle des El Hasne in Petra,’ ArchAnz (1932) 38–89 Ronczewski, 1934 = K. Ronczewski, ‘Tarentiner Kapitelle,’ ArchAnz (1934) 10–17 Roos, 1972 = P. Roos, The Rock-cut Tombs of Caunus I (Goteborg 1972) ¨ Rose, 1991, 1992 = C.B. Rose, ‘The Theater of Ilion,’ StTroica 1 (1991), 2 (1992) Rostovtzeff, 1911 = M. Rostovtzeff, ‘Die hellenistische-romische Architekturlandschaft,’ R¨omMitt 26 ¨ (1911) 1–185 Rostovtzeff, 1953 = M. Rostovtzeff, Social and Economic History of the Hellenistic World I (Oxford 1953) Roux, 1952 = G. Roux, ‘Le toit de la Tholos de Marmaria,’ BCH 76 (1952) 442–75 Roux, 1961 = G. Roux, L’Architecture de l’Argolide aux 4me. et 3me. si`ecles av. J.-C. (Paris 1961) ` propos des gymnases de Delphes et de D´elos,’ BCH 104 (1980) 134–46 Roux, 1980 = G. Roux, ‘A Rowe/Drioton, 1946 = A. Rowe, E. Drioton, Discovery of the Famous Temple and Enclosure of Serapis at Alexandria (Cairo 1946) Ruggiero, 1992 = I. Ruggiero, ‘Ricerche sul tempio di Portuno nel Foro Boario,’ BullComm 94 (1991–2) 253ff. Rugler, 1988 = A. Rugler, Die Columnae Caelatae des jungeren Artemisions von Ephesos (= IstMitt Beiheft ¨ ¨ ¨ 24, Tubingen 1988) ¨ Rumschied, 1992 = F. Rumschied, ‘Die unbekannte Sa¨ ulenbasis des Demeter-Tempels von Pergamon,’ IstMitt 42 (1992) 347–50, on the history of the ‘Ionic-Attic’ column-base S¸ahin, 1972 = M.C. S¸ahin, Die Entwicklung der griechischen Monumentalalt¨are (Munich 1972) ´ Sauvaget, 1935 = J. Sauvaget, ‘Le plan de Laodic´ee-sur-mer,’ BullEtOrient 4 (1934) 81–114

Abbreviations Used in Notes

269

Sauvaget, 1941 = J. Sauvaget, Alep (Paris 1941) Sauvaget, 1949 = J. Sauvaget, ‘Le plan antique de Damas,’ Syria 26 (1949) 314–58 Scarfi, 1962 = B.M. Scarfi, ‘Gioia del Colle. L’abitato peucetico di Monte Sannace,’ NSc 6 (1962) 1–286 Scarfi, 1965 = EAA 6 (1965) 1112–13, for summary of discoveries at Monte Sannace Schazmann, 1923 = P. Schazmann, AvP VI: Das Gymnasium (Berlin and Leipzig 1923) Schazmann, 1932 = P. Schazmann, Kos, Ergebnisse der deutschen Ausgrabungen und Forschungen I: Asklepieion (Berlin 1932) Schazmann, 1934 = P. Schazmann, ‘Das Charmyleion,’ JdI 49 (1934) 110–27 Schede, 1964 = M. Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. (Berlin 1964) Schenk, 1997 = R. Schenk, Der korinthische Tempel bis zum Ende des Prinzipats von Augustus (Espelkamp 1997) Schl¨ager, 1962 = H. Schl¨ager, ‘Zu den Bauperioden der Stadtmauer von Paestum,’ R¨omMitt 69 (1962) 21–6 Schlumberger, 1933 = D. Schlumberger, ‘Les formes anciennes du chapiteau corinthien en Syrie, en Palestine et en Arabie,’ Syria 14 (1933) 283ff. Schmidt-Colinet, 1980 = A. Schmidt-Colinet, A. Hadidi, F. Zayadine, M. Lindner, ‘Nabat a¨ ische Felsenarchitektur. Bemerkungen zum gegenw¨artigen Forschungsstand,’ BonnJhb 180 (1980) 189–264 Schmidt-Dounas, 1991 = B. Schmidt-Dounas, ‘Zur Datierung der Metopen des Athena-Tempels von Ilion,’ IstMitt 41 (1991) 363–415 Schneider, 1942 = K. Schneider, in RE 18.1.2, (Stuttgart 1942), s.v. ‘Gymnasium’ Schober, 1933 = A. Schober, Der Fries des Hekateions von Lagina (Baden-bei-Wien 1933) Schuchhardt, 1886 = W. Schuchhardt, ‘Kolophon, Notion und Klaros,’ AthMitt 11 (1886) esp. 422–4 Schwandner/Kolonas, 1996 = E.-L. Schwandner, L. Kolonas, ‘Beobachtungen am Zeusheiligtum von Stratos,’ IstMitt 46 (1996) 187–96 Scoufopoulos, 1971 = N. Scoufopoulos, Mycenaean Citadels (Goteborg 1971) ¨ Sear, 1982 = F. Sear, Roman Architecture (Ithaca, NY, 1982) Sears, 1904 = J.M. Sears, ‘Oeniadae: A Greek Bath,’ AJA 8 (1904) 216–26 Seddon, 1987 = L.R. Seddon, ‘The Agora Stoas of Assos, Aigai and Termessos: Examples of the Political Function of Attalid Patronage’ (Dissertation, University of California at Los Angeles, 1987) Shahbazi, 1975 = A.S. Shahbazi, The Irano-Lycian Monuments (Teheran 1975) Shear, 1969 = T.L. Shear, Jr, ‘The Athenian Agora: Excavations of 1968,’ Hesperia 38 (1969) 382–417 Shear, 1971 = T.L. Shear, Jr, ‘The Athenian Agora: Excavations of 1970,’ Hesperia 40 (1971) 241–79 Shear, 1984 = T.L. Shear, Jr, ‘The Athenian Agora: Excavations of 1980–82,’ Hesperia 53 (1984) 1ff. Sherwin-White, 1977 = S.M. Sherwin-White, ‘Inscriptions from Cos,’ ZPE 24 (1977) 205–17 Shoe, 1936 = L.T. Shoe, Profiles of Greek Mouldings (Cambridge, Mass. 1936) Siganidou, 1987 = M. Siganidou, ‘To anaktoriko sygkrotema tes Pellas,’ ArchErgMakThrak 1 (1987) 119–24 Siganidou, 1989 = M. Siganidou, ‘To mnemeiako propylo tou anaktorou tes Pellas,’ ArchErgMakThrak 3 (1989) 59–63 Siganidou, 1992 = M. Siganidou, ‘Die Basileia von Pella,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 144–7 Sjoqvist, 1973 = E. Sjoqvist, Sicily and the Greeks (Ann Arbor 1973) ¨ ¨ Sommella, PECS = P. Sommella, article on Ardea in PECS Sonne, 1992 = W. Sonne, ‘Hellenistische Herrschaftsga¨ rten,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 136–43 Soteriades, 1930 = G.A. Soteriades, ‘Anaskaphai Diou Makedonias,’ Praktika (1930) 36ff. Steele, 1992 = J. Steele, Hellenistic Architecture in Asia Minor (London & New York 1992) Steinby, 1999 = E.M. Steinby, ed., Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae (Rome 1999) Steinhauer, 1996 = G. Steinhauer, ‘La d´ecouverte de l’Arsenal de Philon,’ in Tzalar, 1996, 471–9

270

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Stevens, 1940 = G.P. Stevens, The Setting of the Periklean Parthenon (Hesperia Supp. 3, Cambridge, Mass. 1940) Stillwell, 1930 = R. Stillwell, Corinth III 1: Acrocorinth (Cambridge 1930) Stillwell, 1952 = R. Stillwell, Corinth II: The Theater (Princeton 1952) StTroica = Studia Troica Stucchi, 1975 = S. Stucchi, Architettura cirenaica (Rome 1975) Tarditi, 1990 = C. Tarditi, ‘Architettura come propaganda. Esame dell’attivit a´ degli Antigonidi in Grecia e nuove proposte di attribuzione,’ AevAnt 3 (1990) 43–74. Themelis, 1989, 1990 = P. Themelis, Praktika (1989) 77–91, (1990) 62–9, on the excavation of the bath to the S of the Asklepieion at Messene Themelis, 1991 = P. Themelis, Praktika (1991) 72–3, on reinvestigation of the temple of Artemis Limnatis at Messene Themelis, 1992, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999 = P. Themelis, Praktika (1992) 60–87, (1995) 68–83, (1996) 157–65, (1997) 86–100, (1998) 108–22, (1999) 90–7, on excavations in the Hellenistic/Roman gymnasium and in the area of the stadium at Messene Thiersch, 1904 = H. Thiersch, Zwei antike Grabanlagen bei Alexandria (Berlin 1904) Thiersch, 1909 = H. Thiersch, Pharos, antike Islam und Occident (Leipzig and Berlin 1909) Thompson, 1937 = H.A. Thompson, ‘The Buildings on the West Side of the Agora,’ Hesperia 6 (1937) 1–226 Thompson, 1940 = H.A. Thompson, The Tholos of Athens and Its Predecessors (Princeton 1940) Thompson, 1950 = H.A. Thompson, ‘Activities in the Athenian Agora,’ Hesperia 19 (1950) Tilton, 1902 = E.L. Tilton, The Argive Heraeum I (Boston and New York 1902) Tod/Baker-Penoyre, 1909 = M.N. Tod, J. Baker-Penoyre, ‘Thasos. Part I. Inscriptions, no. 9,’ JHS 29 (1909) 95–7 Tolle, 1969 = R. Tolle, Die antike Stadt Samos: Ein Fuhrer (Mainz 1969) ¨ ¨ ¨ Tolle-Kastenbein, 1974 = R. Tolle-Kastenbein, Samos 14: Die Kastro Tigani (Bonn 1974) ¨ ¨ Tolle-Kastenbein, 1994a = R. Tolle-Kastenbein, Das Olympieion von Athen (Cologne 1994) ¨ ¨ Tolle-Kastenbein, 1994b = R. Tolle-Kastenbein, ‘Zur Genesis und Entwicklung des Dipteros,’ JdI 109 ¨ ¨ (1994) 41–76 Tomlinson, 1963 = R.A. Tomlinson, ‘The Doric Order: Hellenistic Critics and Criticism,’ JHS 83 (1963) 133–45 Tomlinson, 1995 = R.A. Tomlinson, ‘The Town Plan of Hellenistic Alexandria,’ in Bonacasa / Di Vita, 1995, 236–40 Townsend, 1982 = R. Townsend, ‘Athenian Architectural Activity in the Second Half of the Fourth Century,’ (Dissertation, University of North Carolina, 1982) Townsend, 1985 = R. Townsend, ‘The Fourth-Century Skene of the Theater of Dionysos,’ AJA 89 (1985) 354 (abstract of paper) Townsend, 1986 = R. Townsend, ‘The Fourth-Century Skene of the Theater of Dionysos at Athens,’ Hesperia 55 (1986) 421–38 TransAmPhilSoc = Transactions of the American Philosophical Society Travlos, 1971 = J. Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens (London 1971) Trendall, 1967 = A.D. Trendall, Phlyax Vases, 2nd ed. (London 1967) ¨ Tritsch, 1932 = F. Tritsch, ‘Die Agora von Elis und die altgriechische Agora,’ OJh 27 (1932) 64–105 Trumper,1998 = M. Trumper, Wohnen in Delos (Rahden 1998) ¨ ¨ Tsirivakos, 1971 = E. Tsirivakos, ‘Kallithea: Ergebnisse der Ausgrabung,’ AAA 4 (1971) 108–10 Tuchelt, 1995 = K. Tuchelt, AntWelt 26.2 (1995) 85–113 TurkArkDerg = Turk ¨ ¨ Arkeoloji Dergisi

Abbreviations Used in Notes

271

Tzalar, 1996 = H. Tzalar, ed., Tropis IV: 4th International Symposium on Ship Construction in Antiquity: Proceedings (Athens 1996) Untermann, 1984 = M. Untermann, ‘Neues zur Skeuothek des Philon,’ in Bauplanung Vallois, 1923 = R. Vallois, EAD VII.1: Le portique de Philippe (Paris 1923) Vallois, 1944 = R. Vallois, Architecture hell´enique et hell´enistique de D´elos I (Paris 1944) Vallois/Poulsen, 1914 = R. Vallois, G. Poulsen, EAD II.2: La salle hypostyle (Paris 1914) Villard/Auberson, 1983 = F. Villard, P. Auberson, Megara Hyblaea: Guide des fouilles (Rome 1983) Villeneuve, 1986 = F. Villeneuve, La fortification dans l’histoire du monde grec (Paris 1986) 157–65 Voigtl¨ander, 1975 = W. Voigtl¨ander, Der jungste Apollontempel von Didyma (= IstMitt Beiheft 14, ¨ Tubingen 1975) ¨ Voigtl¨ander, 1989 = W. Voigtl¨ander, in Linders/Hellstrom, 1989, ‘Discussion’ 43–4 ¨ von Diest, 1913 = W. von Diest, Nysa ad Maeandrum (Berlin 1913) von Eickstedt, 1991 = K. von Eickstedt, Beitr¨age zur Topographie des antiken Pir¨aus (Athens 1991) von Gall, 1966 = H. von Gall, Die paphlagonische Felsgr¨aber (= IstMitt Beiheft 1, Tubingen 1966) ¨ von Gerkan, 1921 = A. von Gerkan, Das Theater von Priene (Munich 1921) von Gerkan, 1922 = A. von Gerkan, Milet I.6 (Berlin 1922) von Gerkan, 1924 = A. von Gerkan, Griechische St¨adteanlagen (Berlin and Leipzig 1924) von Gerkan, 1929 = A. von Gerkan, Der Altar des Artemistempels in Magnesia am M¨aander (Berlin 1929) von Gerkan, 1959 = A. von Gerkan, Von antiker Architektur und Topographie – Gesammelte Aufs¨atze (Stuttgart 1959) von Gerkan, 1961 = A. von Gerkan, W. Muller-Wiener, Das Theater von Epidauros (Stuttgart 1961) ¨ von Graeve, 1970 = V. von Graeve, Der Alexandersarkophag und seine Werkstatt (Berlin 1970) ¨ der fruhhellenistischen von Hesberg, 1992 = H. von Hesberg, ‘Privatheit und Offentlichkeit ¨ Hofarchitektur,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 84–96 von Hesberg, 1995 = H. von Hesberg, ‘Das griechische Gymnasion im 2. Jh. v. Chr.,’ in W orrle/Zanker, ¨ 1995, 13–27 von Mercklin, 1962 = E. von Mercklin, Antike Figuralkapitelle (Berlin 1962) von Steuben, 1981 = H. von Steuben, ‘Seleukidische Kolossaltempel,’ AntWelt 12.3 (1981) 3–12 von Szalay/Boehringer, 1937 = A. von Szalay, E. Boehringer, Pergamon X: Die hellenistische Arsenale (Berlin and Leipzig 1937) Wace/Megaw/Skeat, 1959 = A.J.B. Wace, A.H.S. Megaw, T.C. Skeat, Hermopolis Magna, Ashmunein (Alexandria, 1959) Wacker, 1996 = C. Wacker, Das Gymnasion in Olympia: Geschichte und Funktion (W urzburg 1996) ¨ Walbank, 1981 = F.W. Walbank, The Hellenistic World (Brighton, Sussex 1981) Waldstein, 1902 = C. Waldstein and others, The Argive Heraeum I (Boston and New York 1902) Walter-Karydi, 1992 = E. Walter-Karydi, ‘Die Nobilitierung des griechischen Wohnhauses in spa¨ tklassischer Zeit,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 57–61 Ward-Perkins, 1970 = J.B. Ward-Perkins, in Boethius and Ward-Perkins, Etruscan and Roman Architecture (Harmondsworth 1970) Ward-Perkins, 1974 = J.B. Ward-Perkins, Cities of Ancient Greece and Italy (London 1974) Watzinger, 1905 = Griechische Holzsarkophage aus der Zeit Alexanders des Grossen (Leipzig 1905) Waywell, 1978 = G.B. Waywell, The Freestanding Sculptures of the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus (London 1978) Waywell, 1989 = G.B. Waywell, ‘Further Thoughts on the Placing and Interpretation of the Freestanding Sculptures from the Mausoleum,’ in Linders/Hellstrom, 1989, 23–30 ¨ Weber, 1989 = B.F. Weber, ‘Zum Laodikebau in Milet,’ IstMitt 39 (1989) 385–92 Webster, 1963 = T.B.L. Webster, Griechische Buhnenaltert umer (Gottingen 1963) ¨ ¨ ¨ Webster, 1967 = T.B.L. Webster, The Art of Greece: The Age of Hellenism (New York 1967)

272

Abbreviations Used in Notes

Webster, GTP = T.B.L. Webster, Greek Theatre Production (London 1956) Webster, GTP 2 = T.B.L. Webster, Greek Theatre Production, 2nd ed. (London 1970) Weller, 1904 = C.H. Weller, ‘The Pre-Periklean Propylon of the Acropolis at Athens,’ AJA 8 (1904) 35–70 Welter, 1922 = G. Welter, ‘Das Olympieion in Athen,’ AthMitt 47 (1922) 61–71 Welter, 1923 = G. Welter, ‘Das Olympieion in Athen,’ AthMitt 48 (1923) 182–201 Welter, 1941 = G. Welter, Troizen und Kalaureia (Berlin 1941) Wheeler, 1964 = Sir Mortimer Wheeler, Roman Art and Architecture (London 1964) Whiting, 1935 = J.D. Whiting, ‘Petra, Ancient Caravan Stronghold,’ NatGeogMag 67 (1935) Wiegand, 1902 = T. Wiegand, ‘Zweiter vorla¨ ufiger Bericht uber die Ausgrabungen der koniglichen ¨ ¨ Museen zu Milet,’ ArchAnz 17 (1902) 149–50 Will, 1992 = E. Will, ‘Le chaˆ teau du Tobiade Hyrcan a` Iraq al Amir,’ in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, 221–5 Will, 1994 = E. Will, ‘Damas antique,’ Syria 79 (1994) 1–43 Will/Larch´e, 1991 = E. Will, F. Larch´e, Iraq al Amir: Le chˆateau du Tobiade Hyrcan (Paris 1991) Willemsen, 1959 = F. Willemsen, Olympische Forschungen 4 (1959) C. Williams, 1974 = Caroline Williams, ‘The Corinthian Temple of Zeus Olbios at Uzuncaburc¸: A Reconsideration of the Date,’ AJA 78 (1974) 405–14 C.K. Williams, 1971 = C.K. Williams, J.E. Fisher, ‘Corinth 1971: Forum Area,’ Hesperia 41 (1972) 169–71 C.K. Williams, 1977 = C.K. Williams, ‘Excavations at Corinth,’ Hesperia 46 (1977) 1–39, 40–81 Winter, 1959 = F.E. Winter, ‘Ikria and Katastegasma in the Walls of Athens,’ Phoenix 13 (1959) 161–200 Winter, 1963 = F.E. Winter, ‘The Chronology of the Euryalos Fortress at Syracuse, AJA 67 (1963) 363–87 Winter, 1966 = F.E. Winter, ‘Notes on Military Architecture in the Termessos Region,’ AJA 70 (1966) 127–37 Winter, 1971 = F.E. Winter, Greek Fortifications (Toronto and London 1971) Winter, 1976 = F.E. Winter, ‘Tradition and Innovation in Doric Design I,’ AJA 80 (1976) 139–45 Winter, 1978 = F.E. Winter, ‘Tradition and Innovation in Doric Design II,’ AJA 82 (1978) 151–61 Winter, 1980 = F.E. Winter, ‘Tradition and Innovation in Doric Design III,’ AJA 84 (1980) 399–416 Winter, 1982 = F.E. Winter, ‘Tradition and Innovation in Doric Design IV,’ AJA 86 (1982) 387–400 Winter, 1983 = F.E. Winter, ‘The Stage of New Comedy,’ Phoenix 37 (1983) 199–204 Winter, 1987 = F.E. Winter, ‘Arkadian Notes I: Identification of the Agora Buildings at Orchomenos and Mantinea,’ EMC/CV n.s. 6 (1987) 235–46 Winter, 1991 = F.E. Winter, ‘Early Doric Temples in Arkadia,’ EMC/CV n.s. 10 (1991) 193–220 Winter, 1993 = F.E. Winter, ‘The Role of Royal Patronage in the Development of Hellenistic Architecture,’ EMC/CV n.s. 12 (1993) 251–81 Winter, 1997a = F.E. Winter, ‘The Use of Artillery in Fourth-Century and Hellenistic Towers,’ EMC/CV n.s. 16 (1997) 247–92 Winter, 1997b = F.E. Winter, review of Frederick A. Cooper, The Temple of Apollo Bassitas 1 (Princeton 1996) in Phoenix 51 (1997) 438–42 Winter/Christie, 1985 = F.E. Winter, A. Christie, ‘The Symposium-Tent of Ptolemy II: A New Proposal,’ EMC/CV n.s. 4 (1985) 289–308 Winter/Winter, 1983, 1984 = J.E. and F.E. Winter, ‘The Date of the Temples near Kourno in Lakonia,’ AJA 87 (1983) 3–10, and ‘The Temples at Kourno: A Correction,’ AJA 88 (1984) 232 Wissowa, 1894 = G. Wissowa, RE 1 (1894) 2005ff. s.v. ‘Amyntas’ Woldering, 1963 = I. Woldering, The Art of Egypt (New York 1963) WorcArtMusAnnual = Worcester Art Museum Annual Worrle/Zanker, 1995 = M. Worrle, P. Zanker, Stadtbild und Burgerbild im Hellenismus (Munich 1995) ¨ ¨ ¨ Wulf, 1999 = U. Wulf, AvP xv.3: Die Stadtgrabung: Teil 3 Die hellenistischen und r¨omischen Wohnh¨auser von Pergamon (Berlin and New York 1999) Wuilleumier, 1961 = P. Wuilleumier, Tarente, 2nd ed. (= BEFAR 148, Paris 1961)

Abbreviations Used in Notes

273

Wuilleumier, 1967 = P. Wuilleumier, AttiMGrec 8 (1967) 31–98 Wurster, 1976 = W.W. Wurster, ‘Antike Siedlungen in Lykien,’ ArchAnz (1976) 40ff. ¨ ¨ Wurster, 1993 = W.W. Wurster, ‘Die Architektur des griechischen Theaters,’ AntWelt 24.1 (1993) 20–42 ¨ ¨ Wycherley , 1964 = R.E. Wycherley,‘The Olympieion at Athens,’ GBRS 5 (1964) 161–79 Wycherley, 1978 = R.E. Wycherley, The Stones of Athens (Princeton 1978) Yaras¸, 1997 = A. Yaras¸, ‘Antik c¸agın egitim kurumu: gymnasionlar’ (‘Gymnasia: The most ˇ en onemli ¨ ˇ important educational institution of ancient times’), TAD 31 (1997) 237–53 Young, 1958 = R.S. Young, ‘The Gordion Campaign of 1957,’ AJA 62 (1958) 147–54 Zahle/Kjeldsen, 1976 = J. Zahle, K. Kjeldsen, ‘A Dynastic Tomb in Central Lycia,’ ActaArch 47 (1976) 29–46 Zancani-Montuoro, 1940 = P. Zancani-Montuoro, ‘Tabella fittile locrese con scena di culto,’ RivIstArchStorArte 7 (1940) 205–24 Zanker, 1976 = P. Zanker ed., Hellenismus in Mittelitalien (Gottingen 1976) ¨ Ziolkowski, 1986 = A. Ziolkowski, ‘Les temples A et C du Largo Argentina,’ MEFRA 98 (1986) 623–41 Ziolkowski, 1988 = A. Ziolkowski, ‘Mummius’ Temple of Hercules Victor and the Round Temple on the Tiber,’ Phoenix 42 (1988) 309–33 Ziolkowski, 1992 = A. Ziolkowski, The Temples of Mid-Republican Rome and Their Historical and Topographical Context (Rome 1992) ZPE = Zeitschrift fur ¨ Papyrologie und Epigraphik

This page intentionally left blank

NOTES

Introduction 1 Alscher, 1956. 2 Of course many features of Hellenistic art persisted through Roman Imperial into Byzantine times, so that Byzantinists may speak of Hellenistic elements in Byzantine painting. 3 Dinsmoor, 1950, 216–64, compared with 147–215 for the preceding two centuries. 4 Havelock, 1981. 5 Martin, 1973. 6 Adriani, 1963. 7 Fyfe, 1936, and Lyttelton, 1974. 8 Lauter, 1986. Chapter 1 1 The Hephaisteion, the Parthenon, the new temples at Sounion and Rhamnous, the temple of Ares; see Winter, 1982, 389. 2 Compare the scale of the new temples of Asklepios at Epidauros and of Zeus at Nemea with the rebuilding of those of Apollo at Delphi and of Athena at Tegea. 3 Tegea: Pausanias (8.45.4) records that the old temple of Athena was burned in 395, whereas the currently accepted date for the Skopas temple is ca. 345–330. Delphi: for the dates of the new temple of Apollo see Dinsmoor, 1950, ‘Chronological List of Greek Temples.’ Ephesos: Pliny, NH 36.95, best reading 120 years; on Alexander, Strabo 14.641. Priene: dedicatory inscription of Alexander in the British Museum; on Kappadokian royal support, Gruben, 1980, 385.

4 Asklepios temple built in less than five years, Burford, 1969, 54–5; finished portions of Nemea temple 330–320, Hill/Williams, 1966; the temple was clearly unfinished, perhaps as a result of the influence of Argos and the transfer of the Nemean Games to that city in the third century; in Pausanias’s day the roof of the temple had collapsed and there was no cult-image (Paus. 2.15.3). 5 E.g., the Mt Aphrodision temple above Kondovazena and the Hellenistic temple of Asklepios at Pheneos; see Kardhara, 1988, and Protonotariou-Dheilaki, 1962. 6 Among the Hekatomnid buildings, the architecture and sculpture of the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos and the buildings in the sanctuary at Labraynda are the most significant examples; in Lykia, the Heroon at Limyra and the Nereid Monument at Xanthos show the progressive Hellenization of local architecture. 7 See chapter 9, ‘The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily.’ 8 E.g., the temple of Artemis at Aulis, Papachatzis, 1981, 128–31 figs. 147–53, and 570. 9 E.g., the Mt Aphrodision temple described in Kardhara, 1988. 10 Dinsmoor, 1950, 183, 218. 11 Ibid., 220–3. 12 See Winter, 1982, 395–6. Recent investigations in the temple have shown that the extant temple postdates the city wall; the podium of the temple also served as part of the defences of the city. The earlier temple, either a simple oikos or a prostyle building, would have been entirely within the line of the wall. See Schwandner/Kolonas, 1996.

276 13 14 15 16 17

18

19

20 21

22

23

24

Notes to pages 7–9

Winter, 1976, 141–2; 1978, 151–4. Winter, 1978, 156–61; 1980, 415; 1982, 394–5. Bammer/Muss, 1996, 54 fig. 61. Koenigs, 1983, 138–9, 144–5; the upward curve at Didyma is easily visible to the naked eye. See the analyses in Dinsmoor, 1950, 222; Gruben, 1980, 380–5; and Lawrence, 1983, 250–2. For the latest German investigation of the temple, see Koenigs, 1983. The German excavators suggested a height of ca. 8.5 lower diameters; Plommer (Cook/Plommer, 1966, 89–90) thinks the height should be at least 9.5 l.d. Dinsmoor, 1950, 223, suggested 8.8 l.d.; see also below, 28 and note 167. E.g., as in the Tholoi at Delphi and Epidauros (Lawrence, 1983, 239 fig. 210, 242 fig. 215) and the temple of Asklepios at Epidauros (Roux, 1961, pls. 34.1–2). See chapter 4, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments,’ 78–81. E.g., in the figures for the length of the N and S sides, and the statement that the pyramid ‘equalled in height the lower portion’; it is likely that Pytheos’s Commentaries would have dealt in some detail with such relationships (see Vitr. 1.1.12). Gruben, 1980, 384, notes the debt of Hermogenes to his predecessor. On Hermogenes and Hellenistic architecture in general, see Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, frequently cited in the following pages. It is reasonable to assume that Vitruvius’s praise (3.3.8–9) of Hermogenes’ pseudodipteral temple was inspired by the earlier architect’s account of the theoretical basis of the design. On the fourth-century Artemision, see esp. Bammer, 1972 and Bammer/Muss, 1996. On the history of the interior of the temple over the centuries, see Bammer, 1993. In the Philippeion at Olympia the square plinth replaced the lower torus of the Attic base. The earliest example of the complete fusion of Attic and Eastern forms seems to be in the tomb of Amyntas at Telmessos in Lykia, probably of the end of the fourth century; here, however, the relative proportions of the members are severely distorted. This tomb may have been the burial place of a Macedonian noble; see chapter 4, 86–7.

25 For the sequence of plans at Ephesos, Didyma, and Samos see Tolle-Kastenbein, 1994b. ¨ 26 See the comparative plans of the Archaic and fourth-century Artemisia, Bammer/Muss, 1996, 54–5 figs. 61–2. There is no reason to believe that the plan of the later Artemision had been fixed before the Athena temple at Priene was begun. 27 Plan of the Polykrates temple, Gruben, 1980, 335 fig. 279. 28 Pliny, NH 36.95, records 36 columnae caelatae; extant fragments of Archaic ‘sculptured columns’ show that such columns were not an innovation of the fourth century. Bammer/Muss, 1996, 50 fig. 55 and 56–7 figs. 63–4, show Bammer’s proposed placing of the sculptured drums; Gruben, 1980, 354–5 figs. 295–6, illustrates the traditional placing of these drums. All extant elements of the sculptured columns now in the British Museum are illustrated in Bammer, 1972; all the extant sculpture of the Archaic Artemision, including the remains of the sculptured sima, is collected and studied in Muss, 1994. 29 See my remarks in Winter, 1993, 263 and note 47. It seems clear to me that the extant capitals and sculptured drums and pedestals have a stylistic span in excess of 100 years. 30 See the lengthy discussion of the problem in Bammer, 1972 and Bammer/Muss, 1996, 50 fig. 55, showing various solutions offered over the years since Wood’s discoveries. 31 Square ‘pedestals’ at bottom of antae: Gruben, 1980, fig. 296, after F. Krischen. 32 Bammer, 1965, 130–40 with 136 fig. 79, and 1972; see now Bammer/Muss, 1996, 50 fig. 55 and 56–7 figs. 63–4, for Bammer’s solution. 33 Bingol, ¨ 1980b, 257–64. He used a similar argument (1980a, 155–7) to explain the increasingly elaborate ornament on the ends of the bolster in Hellenistic and Roman work; for further discussion see Bingol, ¨ 1983. The argument based on ‘legibility’ is perhaps more cogent when applied to the formal ornament of Ionic bolsters than in the case of architectural figure-sculpture, given the fact that the totally invisible backs of pedimental figures are sometimes carefully finished by the sculptor(s). 34 And Bingol ¨ now argues vigorously in favour of Bammer’s hypothesis; see ‘Der Oberbau des Smintheions in der Troas,’ in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 45–50. Rugler, 1988, ¨

Notes to pages 9–12

35 36 37

38

39 40

41

42

43 44

45

46

was interested primarily in the columnae caelatae as sculpture rather than as architecture, and at 32 fig. 1 simply shows the various suggestions for placing the drums and pedestals. Rugler, 128– ¨ 32, argued that the building was entirely finished by ca. 310; in my view (above and Winter, 1993, 263 note 47) the latest architectural forms, and probably also the latest sculptural decorations, cannot be reconciled with a fourth-century date for completion of the temple. The text gives the architect’s names as recorded in Vitr. 7.Praef.16. Winter, 1993, esp. 259, 264–5, 271, 273, and 276–7. Major new buildings appear in these three sanctuaries only from the late fourth century onward. On the Kos Asklepieion, see Winter, 1993, 267–9; Samothrace, preceding note; Kastabos, below 10. See Winter, 1993. On the building contract for the Lebadeia temple, see Choisy, 1884; Fabricius, 1881; de Ridder, 1896; and Bundgaard, 1946. The Lebadeia temple was attributed to Antiochos IV by Niese, 1903, 94 and note 3. On Uzuncaburc¸ see further below, 28–9. Winter, 1993, 254–6 with notes 13–19. Especially in polyethnic centres such as Delos, where numerous non-Greek divinities were worshipped (Guide de D´elos, 1966, 30). Most of these buildings are discussed elsewhere in this volume, especially in chapters 3, ‘Stoas,’ and 10, ‘Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape.’ On the Daochos dedication and the Alexander Hunt, see Petrakos, 1977, 27 and 31–2 with fig. 30; on the Paullus, Prusias, and Aristaineta monuments, Lawrence, 1983, 280 figs. 257–8, 269 fig. 242; on the Delian monuments, Guide de D´elos, 1966, 90–1 and fig. 11, 140 and fig. 30; and on the Monument of Agrippa, Travlos, 1971, 493 fig. 622. Cook/Plommer, 1966, 116–20. Ibid., 80–2 and fig. 15, 150–3; on the columns of the pronaos at Kastabos, ibid., 116–20 and fig. 55. On Kastabos and Priene in general see also de Jong, 1988. See Gruben, 1980, 396–400, summarizing the conclusions set out in Gruben, 1961. On the hypothetical dipteral plan for the new temple, see Gruben, 1961, 187–9, with plan on 188. See Winter, 1993, 264–5.

277

47 On the Hellenistic Didymaion see in general Voigtl¨ander, 1975; Tuchelt, 1995 has provided an overview of temple and excavations, richly illustrated in colour and black and white. 48 Gruben, 1980, 364–5 figs. 300–1. 49 The width of the new platform at the bottom step seems to have been 200 Ionic feet; Haselberger, 1996, refers a now lost Didyma inscription to the width of this step. 50 Didyma: Haselberger, 1980, 1983, Bauplanung 89– 94 and figs. 1–2. 51 Conclusions based on Haselberger’s discoveries have led to some modification of the chronology suggested in Voigtl¨ander, 1975. 52 See Fehr, 1972, who suggests that there may have been Persian influence on the form of the sixthcentury temple. 53 Plan of Teos temple and precinct on the basis of the most recent Turkish excavations: Duran Mustafa Uz, ‘The Temple of Dionysos at Teos,’ in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 52 fig. 1. Both temples have a peristyle of 6 × 11 columns and uniform intercolumniations; however, the intervals at Teos are wider (corresponding fairly closely to the eustyle arrangement of Vitr. 3.3.6–7), and the pronaos is deeper, than at Priene. 54 However, a second-century date for the Smintheion is now supported by both Hoepfner and Bingol; ¨ see Hoepfner, ‘Bauten und Bedeutung des Hermogenes,’ and Bingol, ¨ in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 30 (Smintheion) and 50 (‘Diskussion’). 55 Koldewey, 1890 and Petrakos, 1967a, 1967b, and 1968. 56 Plan of Messa temple from Koldewey, 1890, and of the Smintheion from Antiquities of Ionia IV, reproduced by W. Hoepfner, ‘Bauten und Bedeutung des Hermogenes,’ in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 4 fig. 2.II and 9 fig. 11, right. On Turkish work on the Smintheion, see Bingol, ¨ 1980b; one of the first Turkish discoveries was the evidence for sculptured drums at the top of the column-shaft, immediately under the capital; see above, 9, in the discussion of the columnmae caelatae at Ephesos. Detailed account, state-plan and restored plan ¨ unel, of preserved foundations by Coskun Ozg ¨ ‘Das Fundament des Smintheions in der Troas,’ Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 35–43 (see especially 38–9 figs. 4–7, 42 fig. 18); details of superstructure

278

57

58

59 60

61

62 63

64

Notes to pages 12–14

described by Bingol, ¨ Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 45–50; see also Bingol, ¨ 1980b, 257–64, and ‘Die problematischen Bauglieder des Smintheions,’ RevArch (1991) 115–28 (sculptured columns, 119–24 and figs. 3–4). Interest in the Smintheion had already been revived through the investigation of the site by H. Weber, ‘Zum Apollon SmintheusTempel in der Troas,’ IstMitt 16 (1966) 100–14. Dinsmoor, 1950, 272 note 1, followed by Hoepfner, in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 7. The decorative architectural features of the Messa temple were examined in detail in Pfrommer, 1986; Pfrommer concluded that the temple was built in the first half of the third century, and probably in the first rather than the second quarter of the century. See note 54 above. On the floral decoration on the face of Ionic capitals, see below, 225, in chapter 11 on the columnar orders in Hellenistic times. In the Athenian Propylaia this bottom member is actually carved from the stylobate slabs. Hermogenes at Magnesia, Vitr. 3.2.6; theory of widened intercolumniations and of pseudodipteral plan, Vitr. 3.3.6–9. See Akurgal, 1973, 128 fig. 45, following Gruben, 1961, for actual plan. See Hoepfner, in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 4 fig. 2 for suggested original pseudodipteral plan. Vitr. 3.3.8–9. A comparison of the plan of the Magnesia temple with the Corcyran, Paestan, Metapontan, and Selinuntine ‘pseudodipteroi’ clearly demonstrates the difference between these early Doric plans and the Hellenistic Ionic pseudodipteroi; cf. Dinsmoor, 1950, figs. 28 (GT), 36 (left), and Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 2 fig. 1, with Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 9 fig. 11 (left). Early Doric ‘wide-colonnade’ plans were used in large temples primarily to simplify the problems of roofing in buildings in which the exterior width was increased by increasing the width of the flank colonnades, rather than for the aesthetic effects at which Hermogenes aimed; if the increase in width in the Doric buildings had been achieved entirely by increasing the width of the cella, the construction of the cella ceiling would have been much more difficult. E.g., the Doric temple in the Upper Agora and the temple of Hera Basileia above the gymnasium; see Akurgal, 1973, 89 fig. 33b, c.

65 Hoepfner in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 12–16. But see the comments of Haselberger and Mustafa Uz, ibid., 34 and 51. 66 See Vitr. 3.3.5, on the wooden superstructure of araeostyle temples, and cf. the temples at Cosa, Signia (Segni), and Norba, Boethius, 1978, 131–2 figs. 127–8. 67 The temple at Mamurt Kale seems to be the earliest temple of Pergamene inspiration that is definitely dateable, if the evidence of the Philetairos inscription on the architrave is accepted at face value; significantly, the order, as in many later Pergamene temples, was Doric, not the Ionic that was more popular in non-Pergamene Asia Minor. 68 Although it may have been a direct gift of Antiochos IV Epiphanes of Syria, the temple at Uzuncaburc¸, measuring only ca. 22 × 40 m on the stylobate, was a relatively small building (shorter than the temple of Zeus at Nemea, about the same length as the ‘Concord’ temple at Akragas, and slightly smaller in area than either Messa or the Smintheion). 69 Vitr. 4.3.1. 70 Brief summary of Klaros, Robert, 1995; reports on new investigations at Klaros, by de la Geni`ere, 1989, 1990, who dated the commencement of work on the new temple to the second quarter of the third century, after Lysimachos’s death at Koroupedion. Further investigation, however, indicated that, while the plan of the platform was established at that time, everything in the interior above the lowest portions of the foundations apparently dates from an extensive rebuilding of the following century; see de la Geni`ere, 1992, 1993, 1998, and below with note 73. With regard to the temple of Athena at Ilion, Goethert/Schleif, 1962, doubted the existence of a Hellenistic temple; a couple of years later, Holden, 1964, argued forcibly in favour of the early third century BC, on the basis of the style of the metopes, but SchmidtDounas, 1991, regards the same metopes, as well as the scanty building remains, as ‘classicizing’ work of the second century BC. 71 E.g., Hera Basileia at Pergamon, Mamurt Kale, and the temple at the W end of the agora at Assos. The series of Pergamene Doric temples starts with Philetairos’s temple of the Mother of the Gods at Mamurt Kale (note 67 above). 72 Winter, 1993, 257–8, on Labraynda.

Notes to pages 15–19 73 See de la Geni`ere, 1989, 1990, 1992, 1993, and esp. 1998. 74 See Marcad´e, 1994. 75 Wace/Megaw/Skeat, 1959. 76 Dinsmoor, 1950, 268. Many of the planned details of the temple are known from the preserved building inscription, IG VII.3073; for discussion and earlier bibliography on the inscription see the references above, note 36. 77 Cape Zephyrion: Ceccaldi, 1869, 268–72; Aure` s, 1869, 377–91; Lohde, 1866, 179 and pl. CCX; Dinsmoor, 1950, 269, 380. Tomb of Hamrath: Fedak, 1990, 428–9 fig. 221a–b. 78 In monuments like the tomb of Amyntas at Telmessos and Tomb 69 at Myra, Fedak, 1990, 341 fig. 120, 343–5 figs. 122–3; in the Heroon of Trysa, dated ca. 360, the sculpture is Greek in style, but the architectural elements are still purely Lykian (Childs, 1976; literature and numerous illustrations in Oberleitner, 1994). 79 Hansen / Le Roy, 1976, 317–36, esp. 334–5; Le Roy, 1991; summaries in Bean, 1978, 60–3 and Le Roy, 1995. 80 Metzger, 1966, 101–8 and fig. 1 (plan), figs. 2– 8; Hansen / Le Roy, 1976, 317–26, Hansen, 1991. Partial rebuilding of the temple commenced in 2002. 81 Hansen / Le Roy, 1976, 322–5, Le Roy, 1991. 82 Hansen / Le Roy, 1976, 326–7, Le Roy, 1991. 83 I.e., something similar to the excavator’s interpretation of the ‘Altar Court’ in the sanctuary of the Great Gods on Samothrace. 84 No doubt Ptolemaic control of Lykia, or at least of southern Lykia, was also a factor; this control extended through most of the third century and down to the aftermath of the Battle of Magnesia in 1990; see the recent summary in Kolb/Kupke, 1992, 20–3. 85 On Amyzon, see Robert, 1983, 63–92, with general plan of the sanctuary on 65 fig. 36, and temple and propylon on 76; brief account in Bean, 1971, 133–45. 86 There are Hellenistic precedents for seats suspended on vaults, e.g., in the theatre at Alinda; but the vaults in the Letoon theatre seem to be the earliest in Asia Minor to have the outer end of the vault framed by an architectural order. 87 On Zeus Bottios, see Downey, 1961, 68 and note 62, 72; on Seleukid religious policy in general,

88 89 90

91

92

93 94

95

96 97

98 99

100

101 102

279

Rostovtzeff, 1953, 434–9, and on the mixed Graeco-Oriental plan of the temple of Zeus at Doura-Europos, 522–3. Fraser, 1972, 1.29, 2.94–5 note 22, and 1.312–16. See Doxiadis, 1972, 104–9 and figs. 60–3; also below, 213–14, in chapter 10. The construction of this stoa as a gift of Seleukos Nikator is recorded in an inscription from the site; see Keil/Wilhelm, 1931, 47. Recorded in the dedicatory inscription (on the architrave of the temple) for temple and stoa; the magnificent Corinthian capital from the site, now in the Graeco-Roman Museum in Alexandria (Wace/Megaw/Skeat, 1959, colour plate 1), is thought to have come from a stoa. It is unclear whether the sanctuary was completely enclosed by stoas. The remains of temple and precinct are all spolia recovered from later Christian buildings; for rectilinear but not rectangular precincts, cf. the irregular shape of the precinct of Dionysos at Teos, as established by Mustafa Uz, in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 52 fig. 1. See von Steuben, 1981. On Konkobar see Herzfeld, 1935, 50; and Matheson, 1972, 124 (complex now regarded as of Parthian date). See Doxiadis, 1972, 100 fig. 56, 107 fig. 61, 111 fig. 64 (Pergamon), 77 fig. 130 (Kos Asklepieion), 147 fig. 93 (Priene), and 150 fig. 95 (Magnesia). See below, 214–15, 216–18, in chapter 10. See Winter, 1971, 332–3, on Aristotle. For a ‘free translation and paraphrase’ of Ps.-Dicaearchus, see Frazer, Pausanias 1.xliii. See Priene, 1904. A few remains of a temenos wall were found by J.T. Wood; even if these were of Roman date, there must have been a temenos wall of some sort from quite early times. For the position of the Propylaia of Appius Claudius see the general plan of the site, Mylonas, 1961, pl. 4. Homer, Il. 16.233–35; Kirsten/Kraiker, 1962, 740. It is possible that the builders of the Archaic Didymaion opted for a hypaethral interior because of the difficulty of roofing such a wide cella; in that case the Hellenistic adyton simply reproduced its Archaic predecessor in enlarged form.

280

Notes to pages 19–24

103 Kirsten/Kraiker, 1962, 419. 104 Kyrieleis, 1981, 84–8 and fig. 61. 105 Plans: Archaic, Bammer/Muss, 1996, 33 fig. 30, 54 fig. 61; Hellenistic, ibid., 55 fig. 62. Description of altars: ibid., 65–70; literature, ibid., 91; see also Kuhn, 1984, 199–216, (reconstruction, 215 fig. 2). 106 Kos: Schazmann, 1932, 25–31 and figs. 19–23, pls. 12–13; on Priene and Magnesia, see next note. 107 On the problems of the Priene altar see Carter, 1983, 181–201; Koenigs, 1983; Linfert, 1976, 28– 51, 164–77. On the Magnesia Altar, see Magnesia, 1904, 91–9 and fig. 174; von Gerkan, 1929; Linfert, ¨ 1976, 164–77 with Falttafeln foll. 93–5; Ozgan, 1982 (proposed reconstruction, 207); Hoepfner, 1989, 601–34; Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990, 16–17 and figs. 25–8; and for recent discussion of Priene and Magnesia, Linfert, 1995. Even for the long accepted restoration of the Pergamene Altar W. Hoepfner has suggested some modifications, with female figures in the intercolumnar spaces and statues above the cornice; see Hoepfner, 1993a. 108 Schazmann, 1932, 73–5 (Altar I: perhaps 340–330, adorned with statues by the sons of Praxiteles ca. 280–275; Altar II: not before the reign of Eumenes II, and probably ca. 160–150). Also Kirsten/Kraiker, 1962, 565–8, and Gruben, 1980, 404–6 and figs. 335–6. 109 See S¸ahin, 1972. 110 See the discussion in Carter, 1983. 111 See Gentili, 1954, with plan on 335 fig. 3. 112 Paus. 3.18.10–19.5; discussion in Papachatzis, 1976, 381–6. 113 See below, 192–5, 197–8, in chapter 9, ‘Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily.’ 114 Platner/Ashby, 1929, s.v. Porticus Octavia. 115 Vitr. 3.2.5. 116 Platner/Ashby, 1929, svv. Porticus Metelli and Porticus Octaviae; for representation of the later form on the Marble Plan, see Nash, 1961, 233 fig. 268. 117 On the date of the extant plan, see chapter 9 below, 199 and 320 note 112. 118 Of course the large area in front of the temple at Terracina was the result of artificial terracing extending out over the steeply sloping terrain. Such terracing was impossible over the sheer cliffs at Tivoli, where a similar space in front of the temples could have been provided only by moving the buildings themselves back from the

119 120

121 122 123 124

125

126

127 128

129

130 131

132 133

edge of the cliffs, and turning them around to face toward, rather than away from, the gorge. For the date of Argentina B, ca. 100, see Claridge, 1998, 215, 217. Used in the Mausoleum at Belevi, the inner facade of the Ptolemaion on Samothrace, and the Laodike Monument at Miletos. See below, 197, in chapter 9, on Roman theatretemples. Boethius, 1978, 167–72 figs. 157–9, 162; Sear, 1982, 25–7 figs. 12–14. Boethius, 1978, 175 figs. 164–5. Nos. 3 and 2 in view of model, Gruben, 1980, 425 fig. 348; upper left-centre and upper left corner in view, Dinsmoor, 1975, pl. LXXI, bottom. The cult of Sarapis was among the most successful of Egyptian cults outside Egypt, with Sarapeia appearing in many regions of the Mediterranean. On the Sarapeion at Alexandria, see Rowe/Drioton, 1946. As noted below, it is difficult to see how the somewhat irregular outline of the southern, or rear, end of the temple, as shown on the plan in Rowe/Drioton, 1946, pl. XVII, could have been combined with a normal Greek columnar facade. The Roman building, by contrast, seems to have had a more or less normal Graeco-Roman plan. For restorations of the Sarapeion with a distyle in antis and a tetrastyle prostyle facade, see Grimm, 1998, 83 figs. 83c–d. Handler, 1971, 64–8. The next datable examples are the Athenian Olympieion and the temple of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸, the former certainly, the latter probably, sponsored by Antiochos IV Epiphanes; see below, 26–9. E.g., in the Ptolemaic work at Edfu, Kom Ombo, and Philae; and cf. the ‘Egyptian’ saloon on the river barge of Ptolemy IV, described by Kallixeinos in the passage preserved in Ath., Deipn. 206a–c. Handler, 1971, pls. 11.13–17. From Augustan times to the reign of Philip the Arab (AD 244–9); see Ward-Perkins, 1970, 417, 419. E.g., as shown in Gruben, 1980, 355 fig. 296. The interior of the cella of the temple of Bacchus at Baalbek is probably the most familiar example; see Lyttelton, 1974, 230 fig. 43 and pl. 125, and the restoration in Robertson, 1945, pl. XIII. There

Notes to pages 24–6

134 135

136

137

138 139 140

141 142

143 144 145 146 147 148

149

was evidently a somewhat similar arrangement in the interior of both the Hellenistic and the Roman Imperial Olympieion at Athens; see Tolle¨ Kastenbein, 1994, plans 12–17 Z.52–8, 68–9. Aur`es, 1869, Ceccaldi, 1869; view of location and plan, Lohde, 1866, 179 and pl. CCX. Although Aur`es, Ceccaldi, and Lohde (preceding note) all describe the building as a temple, there is no firm evidence (e.g., an inscription or votives) associating it with Aphrodite Arsinoe or anyone else. Noshy, 1937, 61–5, describes the building as a chapel, presumably because of its small size, and disassociates it from Arsinoe. E.g., the peristyle of 6 × 10 columns of the Athena temple at Pergamon, and the frequency in Hellenistic times of prostyle rather than peripteral plans, at Pergamon and elsewhere. The peristyle of 6 × 8 columns found in the temple of Zeus at Labraynda resulted from the addition of an exterior colonnade to a pre-existing aperipteral building. Dinsmoor, 1950, 268. For the Kourno temples see the detailed accounts in Moschos, 1979, and 1988, 140–7; briefly discussed, and with different conclusions with respect to the dates of the buildings, in Winter/Winter, 1983, 3–10 (see also the correction in Winter/Winter, 1984). Wace/Megaw/Skeat, 1959, 4. Ibid., 8 and colour plate 1. The use of more than one order, the possibly complete enclosure of the precinct by stoas, and the well-preserved colours of the Corinthian capital now in Alexandria. Bevan, 1968, 125, citing Tzetzes. Platner/Ashby, 1929, s.vv. Apollo Palatinus. Considered as places for storing books, Roman libraries seem to have marked no significant technical advance over their Hellenistic predecessors. Plan and restored interior of Celsus library, Ward-Perkins, 1970, 398 fig. 250. See above, 21–2, and below, 194, in chapter 9. See Lehmann, 1954. Winter, 1993, 264–5. See notes 70–3 above. See Keil/Wilhelm, 1931, 44–79 on Uzuncaburc¸; on the temple, 47–9 and figs. 67–8, pls. 23–4; on the date of the temple, C. Williams, 1974. Downey, 1961, 68.

281

150 Winter, 1993, 272–3. Lebadeia, 272 note 79; ‘Jupiter Capitolinus,’ 273 note 81; Baalbek, 273 note 83; Athens, Vitr. 7.Praef.15. 151 Matheson, 1979, 124 and pl. 24 (Konkobar), 189 and pl. 32 (Khurra); Porada, 1969, 180 (both sites mentioned); Herzfeld, 1941, 281–3, figs. 380–1 and pl. 87 (Konkobar), 283–6, figs. 382–4 and pls. 88–9 (Khurra). 152 Auboyer, 1968, 47–8 and pl. 39. 153 The temple plan (peripteral, with adyton raised over a crypt at the back of the cella) so often encountered in Roman Syria from early Imperial times onward seems to have been inherited from the Hellenistic age; many examples in Krencker/Zschietzschmann, 1938 (see also below). Among the Petra tombs, some of which may actually be very late Hellenistic, the Deir, Khazneh, Corinthian, and Palace tombs are perhaps the most relevant to the present discussion; on the Hellenistic ancestry of these tombs (even if they are of post-Hellenistic date), see the article on Hellenistic architecture by Adriani, 1963, and Lyttelton, 1974, 61–83. 154 See note 149 above; we do not know whether the Antiochene temple was located in the open area of the agora, as was the temple of Zeus at Magnesia, or along one side, as in the case of Apollo Patroos and the Metroon at Athens and the agora temples at Assos, Pergamon, and Miletos. Downey, 1961, 72, says ‘on the agora,’ but regards this view as an assumption; he adopts the view of Libanius (Or. 11.72–7) that the epithet Bottios, or Bottiaios, was derived from an old native settlement Bottia, rather than from the Bottiaioi of Emathia, Alexander’s homeland (Downey 1961, 68). 155 Small scale: Megalopolis (Zeus), Dodona, and Priene; large scale: Athena at Pergamon, temple above the theatre at Aigai in Aiolis, and Artemis Leukophryene precinct at Magnesia. 156 A striking example of non-acceptance or misunderstanding of Greek designs is afforded by the ‘pseudo-Corinthian’ capitals in the building at Istakhr (Herzfeld, 1941, 277–80 and figs. 375–6). Both the complete capitals and the capitals of the half-columns have very debased acanthus leaves, and also lack an abacus; and the half-capitals are set diagonally to the wall face, making them virtually useless as supporting members. Yet

282

157

158 159

160

161 162

163 164

165

166 167

Notes to pages 26–30

Greek and Graeco-Roman forms, however much altered, proved to be very long lived, even in eastern Iran; for example, at Kuh-i-Khwaja we find a facade, rebuilt probably in the third century AD, in which arches are framed by halfcolumns whose capitals, at least, were derived from Doric models (ibid., 291–4 and pls. 96–7). On the mixed Hellenistic and native Syrian heritage of Syrian temples, see M. Gawlikowski, ‘Les temples dans la Syrie a` l’´epoque hell´enistique et romaine,’ in Dentzer/Orthmann, 1989, 323–46. But see Winter, 1993, 273 note 81. Ibid., 274; on Cossutius see Rawson, 1975; for a Cossutius at Antioch in Hellenistic times, see Downey, 1961, 102–3. Pliny, NH 36, 45; but see also Platner/Ashby, 1929, 299, and Lugli, 1946, 23. It has been argued that any complete columns removed by Sulla must have been cella columns, not the huge exterior columns with their numerous drums (Penrose, 1888/1973, 76; Wycherley, 1978, 161). Winter, 1993, 272. On the history of the Olympieion site see now Tolle-Kastenbein, 1994, with plans 4, 9–10, 12– ¨ 17 and Z.35–7, 52–8, 61–3 and 68–9; literary testimonia 117–20. Earlier studies: Penrose and Wycherley (note 160 above); Welter, 1922 and 1923 (esp. the detailed plans and sections, 1923, pls. VIII–X); Wycherley, 1964; Travlos, 1971, 161– 79; Dinsmoor, 1950, 280–1; and Gruben, 1980, 230–6. Vitr. 3.5.1. The plans shown by Dinsmoor, Travlos, and Tolle-Kastenbein, have something in common ¨ with the plans of Selinus C, D, and F, but apart from the depth of the adyton also resemble the Archaic Artemision at Ephesos (Bammer/Muss, 1996, 54 fig. 61). Vitr. 3.2.8; see Tolle-Kastenbein, 1994a, 40–2, 54– ¨ 5. Corsi, 1997, 380–2, suggests that Vitruvius spent some time in Athens, on his way home from Asia Minor after 47 BC, and described the Olympieion on the basis of first-hand observation. Tolle-Kastenbein, 1994, Z.11–14, 19–20. ¨ Dinsmoor thought the Priene columns might have been designed as 8.75 l.d., which was then rounded off to 38.5 Ionic feet, or 8.8 l.d.; but see above, note 18, on the proportions of the Priene columns.

168 See above, 12–13. On Uzuncaburc¸ see C. Williams, 1974, 405–14, with references to other sources. 169 E.g., capitals from domestic contexts now in the Ioannina Museum; these capitals, however, are in some cases of Peloponnesian type, recalling those in the cella of the temple of Apollo at Bassai. At Dodona, Ionic was used in the temple of Aphrodite and throughout the late thirdcentury temple and precinct of Zeus, and the proskenion of the theatre had Ionic columns. 170 Roux, 1961, 238–40 and pls. 68–71; Roux dates the building to the first half of the third century; Bauer, 1973, 118, argues that there are many features of Roman origin in the columns and capitals, and suggests a date ca. 100–90. 171 Travlos, 1971, 25 fig. 34 nos. 50 and 56, 193 fig. 254, 352–6 with figs. 456–8; Agora XIV 36 fig. 10. If I am correct in believing that the dentiland-cornice block Agora A256 should be assigned to the propylon of ‘Council House Lane,’ and that the proportions of the dentils on that block can hardly predate the later third century, the propylon itself must be appreciably later than the dates suggested at various times by the excavators. 172 See above, 14–15, and Winter, 1993, 262. 173 The little temple of Artemis Limnatis, on the southern slopes of Mt Ithome, seems to have been in the Corinthian order, not the Ionic, as stated in Reinach-LeBas, 1888, 135–7, quoting from RevArch (1844) 425ff.; see Landron’s drawings in Reinach-LeBas, pls. 1–5, 10.V, VII. Unfortunately, the remains of the Corinthian capital were already lost when A. Orlandos began his investigations and excavations at Messene. Stylistically, the capital shown by Landron seems to belong to the mid-second century BC; however, there seems to be some uncertainty about the association of the lost capital with the temple of Artemis Limnatis, since the building is still described as Ionic in Themelis’s report on the clearing of the site; Themelis, 1991, 72–3 and fig. 15. 174 See below, 31–2. 175 See above, 23–4, 25–6, 28–9. 176 See above, 24–5. 177 See below, 194–5, on the Hellenistic style in Italy and Sicily. 178 Doric and Ionic decorative details are already combined in West Greek architecture of the sixth

Notes to pages 30–2

179

180 181

182

183

184 185

186

century, and this trend becomes more marked in Classical times; cf. the thorough-going mixture of Doric and Ionic in the terracotta representation of the facade of a shrine, Zancani-Montuoro, 1940, fig. 1. The temple of Jupiter Stator and the companion temple of Juno Regina were rebuilt in Imperial times, the latter certainly in the Corinthian order; while nothing is known of the original form of the temples, it is not unlikely that they too had Corinthian columns, like those of the Porticus Metelli that enclosed them. On the location see Platner/Asby, 1929, 304–5, sv. Jupiter Stator. Lauter, 1986, 282–4, Lyttelton, 1974, 91 fig. 20, after Bernard, 1968, 111–51. E.g., in the temple built at Hermopolis Magna in honour of the rulers, erected by the cavalrymen of the Hermopolite nome (above, 24); cf. with this building the purely Late Egyptian (rather than Greek) forms of the temples at Dendera and Edfu. Krencker/Zschietzschmann, 1938, 1: 178–81 and figs. 265–7, 281 (Qasr Nimrud), 1: 4–7 and fig. 8, 2: pls. 3–4 (Bziza). The Argentina temple, Argentina B, is regarded as that of Fortuna Huiusce Diei, vowed by Q. Lutatius Catulus before the battle of Vercellae in 101, and built soon after; on the Temple of Vesta in the Forum Romanum, see Platner/Ashby, 1929, s.v., and Nash, 1962, 505–6. See Paus. 3.12.10–11, on the Skias and the round building. On the Tholoi at Delphi and Epidauros, see below, 72–4, in chapter 4, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments.’ See Love, 1970, 154–5, 1972, 70–4, and 1973, 419–21. Possible association of the round plan with temples of Aphrodite earlier suggested by Lehmann, 1953, 119–21. There was clearly a good deal of new building at Knidos around and following the middle of the fourth century. Cook/Bean, 1952, had argued that this activity was due to the transfer of the city at that time from ‘Old Knidos’ (further east at Datc¸a) to ‘New Knidos,’ at the end of the peninsula. On the basis of remains of earlier date at ‘New Knidos,’ Love disputed the occurrence of such a transfer, but the transfer theory is supported by D. Berges (1994), who, however, dates the event at the end of the fifth or the beginning of the fourth century.

187 188 189 190

191

192 193

194 195

196 197

198

283

See Pliny, Amores 13–14. Love, 1972. Bankel, 1997. Ibid., 51 fig. 1 (Love’s axonometric drawing of the remains); 53–7 and figs. 3–12 (Apollo Karneios altar); 58–64 and figs. 13–22 (round temple altar); 63 (technique of construction). For the artists Zenodotos Menippou and Theon of Antioch, see Blumel, 1992, 107–8 notes to nos. 164–5. ¨ The numerous votives found by Love north of the temple included statuettes of Athena, and a foundation or base west of the temple is inscribed (Bankel, 1997, 69–70 and fig. 31); Blumel, ¨ 1992, 114–15 no. 178, gives the new interpretation of the ‘Prax...’ inscription; the other ‘Prax[...’ inscription was in fact an offering to Aphrodite (‘Arist[o||Prax[||Aphrod[itai,’ Blumel, 106 no. ¨ 162), but was found in Church C, west of the lower theatre, far away from the round temple (Love, 1972, 397). Bankel, 1997, 63. Bankel, 1997, 64; Bankel notes that W.-D. Heilmeyer, H. von Hesberg, and W. Hoepfner all agree that the proportions of the Corinthian capital (Bankel, 1997, figs. 23, 26–8) in general fit a date in the second or first century BC. I note in passing that, unless a lot of the detailing of the acanthus leaves was carried out in the stucco coating, the Knidos capital is not in orthodox ‘Aegean’ style. Mentioned by Athenaeus in the Deipnosophists, 205d. The remains of the Delphinion were published in Kawerau/Rehm, 1914; for the plan of the final phase, with a monopteros in the middle of the enclosure, see their pl. VII. Kawerau and Rehm left open the question of date (late Hellenistic or Roman); von Gerkan (1924, 39) opted for a late Hellenistic date, while Doxiadis preferred the Roman period (Doxiadis, 1972, 54 and 56). Kleiner, 1968, 34, says the monopteros is ‘Roman,’ without giving a specific date. Travlos, 1971, 493–7 and figs. 623–7. The great round building of Arsinoe on Samothrace, discussed in chapter 4, also served some sort of cultic purpose; see below, 75–6. Thus Adriani, 1972, pl. 53.2, is simply stated to have been found ‘in the royal quarter’ of Alexandria.

284

Notes to pages 32–42

199 Khazne, NatGeogMag, December 1998, 125; Deir, Ward-Perkins, 1970, pl. 221; ‘Absalom,’ Avigad, 1954, 91–6 and figs. 49–56. Chapter 2 1 See Winter, 1971, 332–3. 2 Priene, 1904, 43–4. Parsons, 1936, 107–11. 3 On Corinth and Assos, see Winter, 1971, 225–7, 252 fig. 282; also on Assos, Conybeare and Howson, Life and Epistles of St. Paul 2 (London 1881) 215 and note 1. The visual effect of the arched gateways of the late fourth and early third centuries would have been all the more striking for being new and unfamiliar. 4 Winter, 1971, 232–68. Examples such as the Athenian Dipylon and the Arkadian Gate at Messene probably employed the central pier primarily for the sake of carrying the lintel, or lintels; the corbelled gate at Assos (note 3 above) required corbelling only for the patrol-walk, since the lintel of the actual gateway was quite capable of carrying the screenwall across the modest width of the opening. 5 See Krischen, 1941a, 25ff., and Winter, 1963, 385–6. 6 Winter, 1971, 88–9 and figs. 69–70. 7 Martin, 1968, 73 fig. 1. 8 Winter, 1971, 120 fig. 95, 181 figs. 177–8 (Selinus); 88 fig. 67 (Perge); 190–1 (Sillyon, Selge); 166 fig. 147 (Paestum); 246 fig. 266 (Pompeii). 9 E.g., the Porta Nigra at Trier, Sear, 1982, 268 fig. 177. 10 See chapter 7, ‘Covered Halls and Storehouses,’ 150–1. 11 Corinth: Corinth I.1, 1932, 159–92; Miletos: Martin, 1973, 59–60 fig. 56, cf. the model, 88 fig. 80; Ephesos: Ward-Perkins, 1970, pl. 211 (to the right of the Library of Celsus), and Huebner, 1997, 72 fig. 92. 12 Demand, 1986, has recently argued that there was never any relocation of Priene, but her case against relocation seems unconvincing. 13 On the gradual closing off of agoras, see Martin, 1951, 508–38; on the Lower Agora at Pergamon in relation to the surrounding streets, see ArchAnz (1978) 408 fig. 1; and on the Agora of the Italians on Delos, Lapalus, 1939. 14 On Morgantina see Coulton, 1976, 262–3 and fig. 89, with references to excavation reports, and Holloway, 1991, 157–61 and figs. 203, 204, 206, and 208.

15 Winter, 1993, 255. 16 There is some uncertainty with regard to the construction of the south side of the South Stoa; see the discussion in Coulton, 1976, 70–1, 219. 17 Cf. Coulton, 1976, 213 fig. 47. 18 Seddon, 1987. 19 Cf. Coulton, 1976, 213 fig. 48, 271 fig. 103, for the plans of the agoras at Priene and Alinda. 20 The overall design of the agora seems to be due to the influence of Pergamene city architecture, and may even postdate the southward expansion of Pergamene influence after the battle of Magnesia in 190. 21 Coulton, 1976, 79–80. 22 Magnesia, 1904, pls. II–III and 127–31 with figs. 133–4. 23 Schede, 1964, 49–55; Coulton, 1976, 277–8. 24 Priene, 1904, 218. 25 See below, 40. 26 See also the observations of Onians, 1979, 171–2. 27 Huebner, 1997, 41 fig. 48, 43. 28 See chapter 7, 146–7. 29 Travlos, 1971, 32–3 figs. 40–1. 30 See Paus. 1.51.1 and Shear, 1984, 19–24, on the gate and the discovery of the remains identified with it. 31 Cf. Shear, 1984, 23 fig. 12, with Camp, 1986, 163 fig. 137. 32 On the Bouleuterion at Miletos, see next paragraph; on gymnasia and palaistrai, see below, 123–5, 127–8; on Kalydon, see Dyggve, 1934. 33 Cf. the plan of the middle and lower slopes of the hill in ArchAnz (1978) 478 fig. 1, and Dorpfeld’s ¨ original report of the discovery, in Dorpfeld, 1902. ¨ 34 It can be argued that the Pergamene character of the agora gateway at Priene is unaffected by the possibility that the structure may have been part of a building program sponsored by the king of Kappadokia. 35 See below, 169–70, in chapter 8 (‘Residential Architecture’) on fountains in Ptolemaic palaces. 36 See Chamonard, 1922, 104. 37 Busing, 1970, figs. 11–12; Mallwitz, 1972, 191–2 ¨ and fig. 155. 38 The date of the propylon is really quite uncertain; if, as I believe, the block Agora A256 belonged to the propylon, the excavator’s proposed early Hellenistic date seems to be as much as half a century too early. Whatever the appearance of this small structure when it was first built, its Ionic

Notes to pages 42–8

39 40

41

42 43 44 45

46

47 48

49

50 51

52

facade must later have blended very well with that of the Metroon. See above, 36–7. The propylon seems to be Augustan in date, but like much Roman work at Priene remains clearly Hellenistic in concept, even in details such as the design of the dentils, which still have the bold projection that was the hallmark of the ‘Priene school.’ The accepted date used to be in the mid- to late 280s, before the death of Ptolemy I; however, Frazer, 1990, 227–33, now suggests a date ca. 275, and R.A. Tomlinson accepts the possibility of a date as late as the middle of the century (caption to 266 fig. 240, Lawrence, 1983). North Propylaia at Epidauros: Roux, 1961, 253–74, and Bauer, 1973, 105–6, 124. See chapter 10 below, 212. See the plan in ArchAnz (1970), fig. 1 following 176. See McCredie, 1979, 2–6, for the renewed investigation of the propylon; and Frazer, 1990, pl. LXXXII for the plan, and 9 fig. 11, for the north elevation including vaulted tunnel. Frazer, 1990, pls. LXXXIII–LXXXIV (E. and W. facades); 89 fig. 66, plaster model of the Corinthian capital, 90 fig. 68 and pl. 53, drawings; 171–9 and figs 117–29, Ptolemaion Corinthian capital and comparanda from other sites. Ibid., 226. Note too that Corinthian was much more popular in Egypt than in Greece, Macedonia, or Asia Minor. The excavators, however, regard the predominant influences in the building as Macedonian (Frazer, 1990, 227–33), despite the extreme rarity of Corinthian in Macedonian Hellenistic architecture (see Winter, 1993, 259–61). See Frazer, 1990, 80–2 figs. 56–7, 59–60, for the ornament of the Ionic capitals, 157–71 with figs. for discussion and comparanda; note especially the Ionic capital with rosette in the canalis, from the Parthenos sanctuary, now in the Kavalla Museum (ibid., 166 fig. 114). Winter, 1971, 298. For a convenient summary of the history of Eleusis see Mylonas, 1961, 77–154, with the sequence of plans on the site shown on pls. 3 and 4. Cf. Mylonas’s plans (preceding note), as well as pls. 25, 32.

285

53 The most detailed study of the Inner Propylaia is still Hormann, 1932; however, uncertainties ¨ remain with regard to the details of the restoration of the building. 54 Lawrence, 1957, 223 fig. 125. 55 Nash, 1961, 433–8 and figs. 530–6. 56 See above, 12, on Lindos. 57 Guide de D´elos, 1966, 14, fig. 1, 76, fig. 4 and plan I; for the South Stoa as a Pergamene donation, see ibid., 75. 58 For a summary of these buildings and their chronology see Guide de D´elos, 1966, 75–7, plan I and fig. 4. On the Stoa of Philip V, see Vallois, 1923; on the South Stoa and the propylaia, see Vallois, 1944, 65–8, 238–42. 59 The architect and commissioners of Antiochos I clearly made most of the major decisions regarding the East Stoa in the South Agora at Miletos; cf. chapter 3 below, 60–1. There is little doubt that the location of the Stoa of Philip V on Delos, which blocked the view of approaching pilgrims toward the facade of the Pergamene South Stoa, was deliberately chosen in order to upstage the earlier donation; but this manoeuvring would doubtless have taken place no matter whose architect drew up the design. 60 Busing, 1970, 52–6, 79–80. We shall see below that ¨ the entrance hall, or vestibule, of the great riverbarge of Ptolemy Philopator, the Thalamegos, is described as a propylaion, although it was entirely within the vessel; moreover, in passing from this vestibule into one of the main saloons of the ship, visitors went through a ‘proskenion’ – again a case of the term for an external architectural form (in this case part of the stagehouse of the theatre) being transposed to an internal setting. On the use of half-columns-on-piers in the proskenia of theatres, see chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia,’ 107– 8, 232–3. 61 See below, 108. 62 See below, 220. 63 See Busing, 1970, 51 and fig. 42. Of course ¨ the whole design of the western front of the Erechtheion has sometimes been thought to be Roman rather than Greek; in that event, the Athenian building could not have served as the model for the fourth-century temple at Delphi. 64 See below, 220. 65 Busing, 1970, 49; Bohn, 1885, 56–62. ¨

286

Notes to pages 48–54

66 Busing, 1970, 54. ¨ 67 See Coulton, 1976, 214–15 with fig. 48 and pl. 9. 68 Busing, 1970, 52 and 80; on the question of ¨ spaciousness, especially at entrances, in the large halls of residential buildings, cf. the wide intercolumniations on the north and south sides of the South Peristyle, and even more at the front and rear of the North Oecus, of the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya (below, 177–8). 69 See below, 56, 67–8, under ‘Stoas.’ 70 Ath., Deipn. 205a–b. 71 I interpret the Greek of the passage here italicized to mean that this part of the vestibule could be ) termed ‘a sort of proskenion’ ( because it projected from a higher wall behind, ). and was ‘roofed over’ ( 72 For a recent interpretation of the description of the river-barge see the plans of the upper and lower decks suggested in Raeder, 1988, 364 fig. 10. 73 Krischen, 1941b, 24 and pls. 31, and 33 a–b. Chapter 3 1 See chapter 6, ‘Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths.’ 2 For a description of the Echo Stoa and its problems, see Mallwitz, 1972, 194–9; for more detailed discussion, see W. Koenigs, 1984, and Coulton, 1976, 49–50. Granted the many problems that the building presents, it still seems difficult to believe that for more than three centuries the Echo Stoa stood as little more than an empty shell. 3 See below, 210. 4 See below, 171–4, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture.’ 5 See below, 162–7, and Ward-Perkins, 1970, 152– 62, 462–84, on Italic residential architecture and on the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya; on Hellenistic palaces, see Griffin-Kutbay, 1991, and Nielsen, 1994 and Hoepfner/Brands, 1992. 6 Though Vitruvius (6.7.1) does use the word of a court completely colonnaded on only three sides. On the Athenian building, see Camp, 1986, 155 fig. 129. 7 Delian inscriptions: Vallois/Poulsen, 1914, 24–6; Basilica Aemilia: Cass. Dio 54.24.2–3. 8 See Coulton, 1976, 1–17, 180–3, on the uses of the term ‘stoa.’ The present chapter obviously draws heavily on Coulton’s work.

9 A single-aisled stoa, whether with a roof of one or of two slopes, could not, for structural reasons, exceed in depth the limit imposed by the permissible free span of the ceiling beams. In a two-aisled structure the depth could be almost double what was possible with a single aisle; and even in shallower buildings, a roof of two slopes would be more stable with a row of interior columns to support it. 10 Despite the contrary arguments, Coulton, 1976, 3 and 5. 11 Coulton, 1976, 187 fig. 5, 280 (bibliography); Tilton, 1902, 112–16, 127–30; Coulton, 1976, 216 and fig. 49. 12 Amandry, 1953, 35–121; the Ionic facade of the extension of the abaton at Epidauros is probably of Roman date (Coulton, 1976, 238). 13 Stoa Poikile, Paus. 1.15.1; Polygnotos, Pliny, Pliny, NH 35.58, Plut., Kimon 4; Mikon, Aristoph., Lys 678–9 and scholiast, Ael., DeNatAnim 7.38. For remains and modern literature see Agora XIV, 90– 4; the actual site and foundations of the building have now been found in more recent American excavations (below, note 23). 14 Paus. 3.11.3. 15 I.e., in the period when the agora of Athens was first definitely established in the area N of the Areiopagos and E of the Kolonos Agoraios; see Papadopoulos, 1996. 16 Agora XIV, 83–90 with literature. 17 Thompson, 1937, 21–77, 225–6. 18 Paus. 1.3.3–4. 19 Travlos, 1971, 534–6; Agora XIV, 74–8. 20 See below on all these buildings. 21 E.g., the Porticus Octavia, Porticus Aemilia, Porticus Metelli, and Porticus Minucia; on the literary sources for these buildings see Platner/Ashby 1929, s.vv. 22 On the advantages of the regularity of later agora designs see below, 55–7. 23 See Shear, 1984, on the recent discovery in situ of remains identified as those of the Stoa Poikile. The scattered fragments formerly attributed to the Poikile (Thompson, 1950, 327–9) are incompatible with the newly discovered building. 24 See chapter 11 below, 219 and 232. 25 See above, note 2. 26 Mallwitz, 1972, 240–4; Coulton, 1976, 48, 102, 157– 8. It is not clearly established that this building ever

Notes to pages 54–9

27 28

29

30 31 32 33

34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41

42 43 44 45

46 47

48

had Corinthian interior columns before the Roman period; it is certainly unlikely to have had such columns as early as the middle of the fourth century. See below, 213–18, in chapter 10. Paus. 8.30.6, on Meglopolis; see below, 146–7, in chapter 7, ‘Covered Halls and Storehouses,’ in Miletos. Courby, 1912, on Delos; on Megalopolis, Schulz / Loring / Richards, 1892, 59–66 (Philippeios), and 12–13, 104 (Myropolis). See also the interesting discussion of the architectural activity of the Antigonids in Tarditi, 1990. Broneer, 1954. C.K. Williams, 1971, for the date; Broneer, 1954, for the uses of the rooms. Stillwell, Corinth I.1, 1932, 212–28; but see Coulton, 1976, 52–3, for criticism and rejection of Stillwell’s view, and for the date. Broneer, 1954, plan X. Bouras, 1967; Coulton, 1976, 42–3, 226–7 and fig. 57. Paus. 6.24.2. Guide de D´elos, 1966, 95; Coulton, 1976, 31–2, 233. Coulton, 1976, 247 fig. 73, 198 fig. 25. Ibid., 56–7, 269, 271 and fig. 99. Travlos, 1971, 130–1 figs. 173–5, 132 fig. 176A, fig. 177 top. Coulton, 1976, 56–7; the use of an Ionic upper storey over Doric piers, in the Abaton at Epidauros, is probably Roman (ibid., 112–13), and in any event is due to special circumstances (see below, 57). The Stoa of Eumenes may be the colonnade referred to by Vitruvius (5.9.1). Coulton, 1976, 70–1 and 191 fig. 15, for the South Stoa at Assos. On Pergamene use of the two-storeyed stoa for visual effect, see Klinkott, 1989. Seaside villas: painting in the House of Lucretius Fronto at Pompeii, K¨ahler, 1963, 91; harbour porticoes: Hanfmann, 1975a, pl. 35. See below, 175–7, 206, in chapters 8 and 9. It may have been made two-storeyed in a Roman reconstruction; at least, the more meagre masonry of the highest preserved level of the rear wall seems to belong to a later period than the lower parts of the building. On Herakleia, see K. Wulzinger, in Krischen, 1941b, pls. 26–34; on Alinda, see Coulton, 1976, 65–6, and Boyd, 1978, 98. I have argued elsewhere

49 50 51

52

53 54 55

56

287

(Winter, 1987, 236–9) that the East Building of the agora at Arkadian Orchomenos, long regarded as ‘probably’ the council-house, was in fact another example of an agora stoa built over a basement storey. Coulton, 1976, 70–1 and 191 fig. 15. E.g., the sanctuaries of Zeus at Dodona and Megalopolis. On altars in general, see above, 19–21, in chapter 1. J.C. Carter has suggested a date in the later third century for the sculptures of the altar of Athena at Priene (Carter, 1980, 199–200), but thinks that the overall design may go back to the late fourth century (1983, 195–201); the Kos marble altar was evidently a reconstruction of an earlier poros altar. The adapting of the agora stoa to the plan of the sanctuary suggests that the two were more or less contemporary. The agora at Priene also illustrates the difference between ancient and modern views of ‘street allowances’; the covered promenades of the East, South, and West Stoas actually occupy ‘street allowances.’ Thus, the shops in the north and south ends of the East Stoa are, strictly speaking, a part of the city block occupied by the precinct of Zeus. Knackfuss, 1924, 3–30. Conze/Schazmann, 1911. On Selinus, see Gruben, 1980, 285–7. The excavators of Mamurt Kale (preceding note; followed by Coulton, 1976, 6) suggest that the Lshaped buildings served as accommodation for visitors; but the numerous house-like buildings outside the sanctuary to the SE seem better suited to this purpose. It is more likely that the L-shaped structures (or one of them) provided the enclosed space also required at Selinus; between festivals, of course, both buildings could have been used for storage. I note in passing that on a visit to Mamurt Kale in October 1983, my wife and I found the site much overgrown with bushes and small trees; nevertheless, we were able to find virtually all the architectural elements recorded by Conze and Schazmann nearly three-quarters of a century earlier. Or perhaps beneath an open terrace behind a single-aisled colonnade; see below. The footings for the wall of the basement are only sketchily preserved; it seems to me that some of them, at least, could have supported an open stoa. At any rate,

288

57

58 59 60

61 62 63 64 65

66

67 68 69

70

71 72

73

Notes to pages 59–69

this part of the basement was evidently not subdivided in the manner of those at Alinda and Aigai. See note 49 above for Coulton’s discussion and his proposal for a new restoration of the building. The proposal in the text here would have the advantage of greater stability, as compared with both Coulton’s and the American restorations. Dorpfeld, 1910; Bohtz/Albert, 1970 (now ¨ published in Bohtz, 1981). Von Gerkan, 1922, 4–30, 90–1. Paus. 6.24.1–3; Tritsch, 1932, 64–74; summary of both Austrian and Greek investigations in Papachatzis, 1979, 394–407, esp. 395–7 figs. 358–60. Or else encroached on the road allowance behind it. See Haussoulier, 1900, for the Greek text (esp. lines 9–14). See lines 17–19 of the inscription. Ward-Perkins, 1974, figs. 22–5. Butler, 1920, 161–3 and figs. 172–4 (Ba’udeh); 163– 76, figs. 175–84 and pl. 19 (Babiska); 177–93 and figs. 185–99 (Dar Kila); 139–42, figs. 163–4 and pls. 13, 14 (Qasr il-Benat). See Tac., Ann. 15.43, on Nero’s new regulations, and see Homo, 1971, 280–2, on problems of enforcement. Robertson, 1945, 291–2; Downey, 1961. Lassus, 1972. Ibid., 82–126, 140–4, on the excavations, 112–18 and plan LXIV, on the Parmenios vaults; see PECS 62–3, on the street colonnades. Hellenistic Pompeii and Herculaneum had pedestrian walks, but never street colonnades, as far as we know. See Sauvaget, 1935, 1941, and 1949, and Balty, 1967, 1969, 1971, and 1972, on Laodikeia, Beroia (Aleppo), Damascus, and Apameia; at Laodikeia, Damascus, and Apamea, N–S streets were 100– 120 m, E–W 45–60 m apart, and the street grid seems in all four cases to be of Hellenistic date. Balty, 1994; for earlier reports see Balty, 1969, 29– 46 and 62 fig. 1. In any event, Will (1994) has argued cogently that the plan of Damascus was neither Hippodamian nor Hellenistic; the city was rebuilt on GraecoRoman lines only under Augustus, and was never an important centre in antiquity. Cf. Coulton, 1976, 177–80; the whole subject has been restudied in the PhD dissertation of Caroline Williams, who has read papers on aspects of her investigations (e.g., AJA 84 [1980] 240).

74 For a summary of the various possibilities, see Coulton, 1976, 79. 75 Such an approach was almost entirely foreign to Classical architecture; but we should not perpetuate the error of judging the Hellenistic style by Classical standards. 76 Falkener (1881, pl. 30) thought that there must have been columns facing the sanctuary only; but a row of columns on the south face is to be expected, if the stoa was built in mid- to late Hellenistic times. 77 Paus. 6.24.4–5; it is clear from Pausanias’s narrative that the opening between the ‘Corcyraean Stoa’ and the ‘Stoa of the Hellanodikai’ was a main route into the agora of Elis. 78 See Coulton, 1976, 215–17 (Argive Heraion), 233 (Delos), with bibliography. 79 Amandry, 1953; cf. Coulton, 1976, 234. 80 Above, 52–3 with notes. 81 On the dominance of Doric in stoas, even in ‘Ionic’ territory, see Tomlinson, 1963; late Hellenistic Ionic stoas, such as the Southwest Stoa of the temple court at Lindos and the stoas of the Asklepieion at Messene, may well be due to Italo-Hellenistic influence. On the South Stoa at Olympia, see above, 54. 82 Coulton, 1976, 112–13. 83 See below, 146–7, in chapter 7, for the Milesian building; for similar forms in the Basilica Aemilia at Rome, see Nash, 1961, 174–9 and figs. 193–4. Cf. also the comments in Reuther, 1957, 63a, on Vitruvius’s reference to the ‘Doric’ temple of Juno on Samos (Vitr. 7.Praef.12). 84 Bingol, ¨ 1980a, 127–31. 85 Coulton, 1976, 121–3. 86 Ibid., 187 fig. 5. 87 Shear, 1971. 88 Coulton, 1968. 89 See above, 52–3 (with notes on sources) for the Athenian buildings; for plans of later examples, see Coulton, 1976, 194–8 figs. 21–5. 90 Ibid., 116, 118. 91 See below, 221, in chapter 11. 92 See above, 44–5; below, 226, 194–5. 93 Weller, 1904. 94 Coulton, 1976, 115. 95 Clearly some early Doric designers did experiment with oblong metopes; cf. Dinsmoor, 1950, 77–8 and fig. 27. On the other hand, the occurrence of

Notes to pages 69–73

96 97 98 99

100 101

polytriglyphal friezes in structures shown in vase paintings suggests that such friezes were normal in the long spans associated with wooden columns and crossbeams. In that event, it is erroneous to imagine the Heraion at Olympia as having oblong metopes, as shown, for example, in the restoration in Grinnell, 1943, pl. III.C. Vitr. 4.6. Robertson, 1945, 112; cf. Gruben, 1980, 314. Vitr. 4.3.1–2. A slight lengthening of the corner spans at internal angles of stoas would have permitted metopes of normal width together with a half-triglyph on either side of the corner, above the corner column; but this solution was less attrractive visually than the use of cordiform piers with regular metopes and complete corner triglyphs (see next paragraph). Half-triglyphs were probably found only in minor monuments of ‘popular’ art, e.g., the stele of Olympia from Ortaklar, now in the Selcuk Museum. Coulton, 1976, 204 figs. 34–5, following Busing, ¨ 1970, 6l and fig. 73. Coulton, 1976, 137.

6

7 8

9

10

11

12

Chapter 4 1 Much of the material in this chapter is treated at greater length in Fedak, 1990. 2 For preliminary reports on the Kallithea tomb see Tsirivakos, 1971. No reconstruction of the monument has yet appeared; however, it seems to have had a stepped platform surmounted by a high podium with two friezes, one representing fighting Amazons, the other animals. The friezes were separated by an inscription occupying the middle section of the podium. 3 Tolle, 1969, 95 fig. 52. ¨ 4 The Sarcophagus of the Mourning Women, Hamdy Bey / Reinach, 1892, pl. X. In the same category are the so-called Alexander Sarcophagus (von Graeve, 1970), and a number of wooden examples from Egypt and South Russia (Watzinger, 1905). 5 On terracing already found in the temple at Neandria in the Troad, see JdI (1929) 252; on possible terracing in the palace of Kroisos at Sardis, see G.M.A. Hanfmann ‘On the Palace of Croesus,’ in Brommer, 1977, 151. If Hanfmann is correct, the idea spread to Lykia, where terraces and podia were used, from the fifth century BC

13

14

15

289

onward, to increase the height of tombs and other cult-buildings. See most recently Oberleitner, 1994, with earlier literature on p. 68, and numerous photographs and drawings. Dyggve, 1934. Loculi provided a more economical way of burial than individual klinai, and were thus especially popular in urban centres such as Alexandria. An unusual combination of pseudo-pendentives with corbel ceilings appeared in a few tombs. See Durm, 1907, 230ff., and Fink, 1958. Symbolic ornament also helped to indicate the nature of the monument; it was a visual message to the visitor, and therefore carefully selected. Over the years, the original meaning of certain decorative symbols changed or was forgotten, and the symbols became purely ornamental. Vitr. 7.Praef. 12. He has sometimes been identified with the architect Theodotos, who worked in much the same period on the temple of Asklepios at Epidauros (IG IV2.1.102.7). Charbonneaux, 1925; Bousquet, 1941, 121–7; Roux, 1952, 442–75; Bousquet, 1961, 287–98. For a computer-generated restoration of the complete sanctuary, see Bommelaer, 1997, 30–1 fig. 12, and of the exterior and interior of the Tholos, see ibid., 61 fig. 47, 68 fig. 63, 70 fig. 66, and 75 fig. 74 right; for varying restorations of the Tholos from 1912 to 1988, see ibid., 62–3 figs. 48–55. For measurement of the Tholos by Juko Ito and team, see Juko Ito, 2004, 63–133; for analysis of the design of the Tholos and comparison with the Parthenon by K. Horiuchi, see ibid., 135–78. Horiuchi’s analysis, made from the viewpoint of a professional architect, is extremely valuable, even for those who may not accept all his premisses and conclusions. Dinsmoor, 1950, 234 and note 2, claims that an extra drum may have been included in the French restoration; Roux, 1961, 177 and 322, justifies the tall, slender proportions of the columns, which had to be set closer together beneath a circular architrave, and were therefore more slender. Some of the extant reliefs have been interpreted as Amazonomachy and Centauromachy themes; see Picard, 1948, 179–89, and Marcad´e, 1979, 151–70. Dinsmoor (note 13 above) thought that there was a raised drum, or lantern, over the cella; Roux reconstructs a ‘two-zoned’ roof, but without a

290

16

17

18

19

20 21

22 23

24 25 26

Notes to pages 73–6

raised lantern. On the use of rinceaux on Doric simas see chapter 1, 7 and 276 note 19. In early Roman Imperial times the Tholos served as a shrine for the Emperor Augustus. Bousquet’s suggestion (1961; above, note 12) that in the fourth century BC it was a shrine of Artemis is plausible. On the other hand, it could have been built as the heroon-shrine of Phylakos, the guardian hero of Delphi, where memorial services took place in honour of the most venerated hero of the sanctuary. Paus. 2.27.5. For a detailed study of the building, with earlier bibliography, see Roux, 1961; for a discussion of the building and the building inscriptions, see Burford, 1969, 63–8, 114–16, 220–1; on the architect Polykleitos, see below, 104, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ Dinsmoor, 1950, 235, says that there were two windows flanking the door; Roux finds no evidence for these. Lacking other evidence, the question has to be considered in terms of the function of the building, and whether it was used only for nighttime rituals, or both day and night. Pausanias (2.27.3) mentions that Eros has thrown away his bow and arrow and plays on a lyre; perhaps this indicates that rituals in the tholos had a musical accompaniment. Pausias is said by the Elder Pliny to have executed paintings on ceilings, and was evidently the first artist to do so (Pliny, NH 35.124); of course the paintings by Pausias could also have been panel-paintings affixed to the inner face of the cella wall. Paus. 5.20.9–10; see a discussion of the building, with earlier literature, in S. Miller, 1973. I.e., as recommended by Vitruvius (3.5.5–7); the Corinthian capitals, by contrast, are typical of fourth-century experiments with this new form. Paus. 5.20.10. Our knowledge of Macedonian architecture, although still limited, is growing rapidly, thanks to the excavations at Pella and at Vergina (both palace and tombs), and to the steadily increasing number of underground (tumulus) tombs discovered in Macedonia. See literature in Busing, 1970, 17 note 7, and Bauer, ¨ 1977. The form recalls to some extent the base of the central column in the cella of the temple at Bassai. H. Gabelmann, ‘Romische Grabbauten in Italien ¨ und den Nordprovinzen,’ in Brommer, 1977,

27 28

29

30 31

32 33

34 35

36

112 note 58, mentioned the possibility that one intercolumniation of the Lysikrates Monument was open. Bauer’s investigations (1977, 205) seem to have established this view as virtually certain, and it is accepted by Roux (in McCredie, 1992.1, 200–2); Bauer suggests that the monument was erected as a baldachin housing a statue, and that the filler panels were added during construction to stabilize the entablature, part of which in each interval projected beyond the supporting line of the free-standing columns. See Bauer’s plan (1977, Beilage). The Arsinoeion has now been published in detail by J.R. McCredie, G. Roux, Stuart M. Shaw, and J. Kurtich (with contributions by P.W. Lehmann et al.) in McCredie, 1992.1–2. The podium must have been higher than proposed in the original Austrian restoration (G. Niemann, ‘Der Rundbau der Arsinoe,’ in Conze, 1875, 77ff. and figs. 30–6, pls. 53–8). For the American restoration see McCredie, 1992.2, pls. LXXI–LXXII (section and elevation of the building in the Hellenistic period, before the roof was rebuilt in early Imperial times). Note the height of the risers of the crepidoma in relation to the breadth of the treads, and see Roux’s comments, McCredie, 1992.1, 96–8. McCredie, 1992.1, 172 figs. 115, 116 (exterior face of parapet and foot of pier). See McCredie, 1992.1 and 1992.2, pls.III, LXXI, for the interior wall-socle and the absence of any suggestion of a bench. McCredie, 1992.1, 60–1 figs. 38–40, and 122–3, 125. Roux, in McCredie, 1992.1, 126. Model and drawings of the Corinthian capital: 127 fig. 90 and McCredie, 1992.2, pls. XXXVII–XXXVIII; capital of the Olympieion: 1992.1, 127 fig. 92. McCredie, 1992.1, 60–1 figs. 38–40, 1992.2, pls. XL middle and XLI–XLII. On the problem of the roof see Coulton, 1976, 295–6. For the latest American proposals for the Hellenistic roof see McCredie, 1992.1, 82–9 with figs. 59–61, and 164–9; 1992.2, pls. LXVIII–LXIX show the Hellenistic roof, pls. LXXIII–LXXVI the Roman rebuilding. McCredie, 1992.1, 86–7 and fig. 63. The finial must have been completely closed at the top, in order to protect the woodwork of the roof; it cannot therefore, as once suggested, have served as a vent for the escape of smoke.

Notes to pages 76–9 37 McCredie, 1992.1, 231–9. McCredie acknowledges the cogency of much of Roux’s argument, but thinks that in some respects it is open to question; he therefore prefers to retain a date before 281. 38 P.W. Lehmann, in McCredie, 1992.1, 239–42. 39 Her. 1.176. 40 Metzger/Coupel, 1963, 49–61, 88; Bernard, 1965, 261–88 and fig. 2; Coupel/Metzger, 1976, 24ff. 41 For a detailed publication of the Nereid Monument see Coupel/Demargne, 1969; see also Childs, 1973, 105–16; Demargne, 1976, 81–95. 42 Due to the slope of the hillside, the northern elevation rose about two metres less above ground level than the southern. 43 An uncanonical type, originating in the Peloponnesos, and not widely adopted before late Hellenistic and Roman times. 44 The Mourning Women Sarcophagus in Istanbul, of the mid-fourth century, comes closest to imitating the treatment of the intercolumnar spaces in the Nereid Monument. 45 See Coupel/Demargne, 1969, pls. 14–16, and also Zahle/Kjeldsen, 1976, 42ff., where Lycian masonry is discussed in more detail. 46 Shahbazi, 1975, 72 and 108, regards the Nereid Monument as the Heroon of Keriga, who was active in the last quarter of the fifth century. 47 On the basis of the architectural forms, the French investigators dated the monument ca. 400–390; the style of the sculptural decoration, however, seems to favour a somewhat later date. See Childs, 1973, and Borchhardt, 1976, 137ff. 48 Borchhardt, 1976, figs. 23–6, gives a schematic reconstruction of the building. 49 The karyatids at Limyra, as well as those over the legendary tomb of Kekrops at Athens, may have been ‘gottliche Tr¨ager des Totenkultes’ ¨ (Borchhardt, 1976, 117). 50 Ibid., 99. 51 Earlier literature in Jeppesen, 1976, 47–9, 1977– 8, 69–211, and 2002, 229–31; on proportions, see Jeppesen, 1984; see Jeppesen/Luttrell, 1986, for discussion of all the ancient sources on the building; Pedersen, 1991, on the layout of the Mausoleum terrace; and, for a complete bibliography to 2002, Jeppesen, 2002, 229–31. 52 Vitr. 2.8.10–11, on Mausollos and his work. 53 Newton, 1862.

291

54 See most recently Jeppesen, 2002; earlier proposed restorations are reproduced ibid., 56 fig. 6.1, 57 fig. 6.2, and 210 fig 25.2; for a full bibliography on the Mausoleum, ibid, 229–31. 55 Vitr. 2.8.11. Vitruvius’s remarks on the Mausolleion and the palace of Mausollos at Halikarnassos have sometimes been dismissed because of doubts that Vitruvius had any firsthand experience of these and other monuments in Asia Minor. Jeppesen, however, has argued forcefully that Vitruvius could have had ample opportunity to visit some of the more important sites in the region (Jeppesen, 1983). 56 Newton thought that the ‘plug-block’ had been lowered into position from above, but see Jeppesen, 1989, 15–16. The sixteenth-century description of the chamber reads as follows: ‘[T]hey saw an opening as into a cellar ... found that it led into a fine large square hall, ornamented all around with columns of marble, with their bases, capitals, friezes and cornices sculptured in half-relief. The space between the columns was lined with slabs and bands of marble of different colours, ornamented with mouldings and sculptures, in harmony with the rest of the work, and inserted in the white ground of the wall, which was all covered with histories and battle scenes sculptured in relief.’ This account, in Claude Guichard, Fun´erailles, et diuerses mani`eres d’enseuelir des Rommains, Grecs, et autres nations (Lyon, 1581), was derived from a French Hospitaller; see the discussion by Luttrell, in Jeppesen/Luttrell, 1986, 170–4, 186–7. On the decoration of the tomb chamber see Jeppesen, 2002, 202–6. 57 Hoepfner has suggested that the tomb chamber was barrel-vaulted (see Jeppesen, 2002, 57 fig. 6.2), but this proposal seems impossible from a practical viewpoint. There is in any case no firm evidence for the use of the true arch and vault in Asia Minor before the time of Alexander, although the arched West Gate at Priene may predate by a few years the arrival of the Macedonians; corbelling was still used in the late fourth century in the Lion Tomb at Knidos (in that case over a circular chamber). On the roofing of the tomb chamber see Jeppesen, 2002, 57 and 202. 58 Jeppesen points out that if his suggestion is correct, the spans on the long sides of the peristyle

292

59 60 61

62 63 64

65 66 67 68 69 70 71

72 73

Notes to pages 79–81

must have been only 2.88 m, compared with 3 m on the short sides where the six-metre spacing of the pier-footings would represent two interaxial spans; see Jeppesen, 1989, 21–2 with fig. 8a–b; see also the detailed discussion, Jeppesen, 2002, 77–96. Vitr. 7.Praef.13. Martial 1.1. See above, note 56; the widening of the structure at the bottom, if reliably reported, presumably may refer either to the stepped base of the monument or to stepbacks in the podium. Pliny, NH 36.30. See Jeppesen, 2002, 9–18; complete catalogue by G. Waywell, ibid., 233–59. Voigtlander (in Linders/Hellstrom, 1989, 43– ¨ 4) thinks that the proposed lavish sculptural decoration of the podium (Jeppesen, 1976 and 1989, Waywell, 1978 and 1989) is incorrect, and suggests that some of the sculptures were placed around the precinct, separate from the tomb itself; he notes that the Belevi Mausoleum, which he regards as a relevant comparandum, has a plain podium. Waywell, however, does not accept this view; neither does Jeppesen in the 2002 colour plates, frontispiece, and 214–15 fig. 25.4. See also note 84 below. See colour plates cited in preceding note. Jeppesen, 2002, 148–54. Dinsmoor, 1950, 259. Jeppesen, 2002, 77–96 with figures. Although the exact height of the columns is not known, it must have been in excess of 9 l.d. See below, 82–3, and Jeppesen, 2002, 109–17. Perhaps a contribution of Pytheos, since sculptured coffers are also found in the Athena temple at Priene? This has been the generally accepted reading of NH 36.31. Jeppesen, 2002, 29–42. One may have some reservations about reading TOT [OPER]UM OPUS for TOTUM OPUS (ibid., 36). The Plinian examples of the use of TOT adduced by Jeppesen do not seem to me to be true parallels to TOT OPERUM OPUS; while Jeppesen may be correct in describing the received text as ‘stylistically uninventive,’ this quality is not uncommon in the Elder Pliny, whereas Jeppesen’s proposal may perhaps be seen as ‘stylistically over-inventive.’

74 On the chariot group and its supporting pedestal see Jeppesen, 2002, 62–76. 75 See Jeppesen, 2002, 68–70. 76 See Jeppesen, 2002, 55–7. 77 See Jeppesen, 2002, 79–84. 78 See Jeppesen, 2002, 164–9 and 118–24. 79 On the use of caelavit in Pliny’s account, see Jeppesen, 2002, 34. 80 Vitr. 7.Praef.12. 81 See Jeppesen, 2002, 43–54. 82 Jeppesen, 1976, 63ff., and 1986, 52–61 83 Jeppesen, 2002, 55–7 and fig. 6.2. 84 Jeppesen, 1986, 52–61, has collated the readings for the passage in question in all the MSS of Pliny; since his latest conclusions regarding Pliny’s text (Jeppesen, 2002, 31–3, 35–8, 40–2) are in conformity with the extant remains and also make good sense architecturally for the missing parts of the monument, his readings regarding the dimensions should be accepted. Unlike most other restorers, Jeppesen puts extra height into the podium, and particularly into the uppermost section, the overall height of 140 feet, exclusive of the chariot group, being achieved by flattening the pyramid (see Jeppesen, 2002, 210 fig. 25.2). Whatever one’s decision about the location of the various sculptures, one can perhaps appreciate Voigtl¨ander’s objections about the quantity of the sculptures (above, note 64); however, Voigtl¨ander’s alternative placing does not seem any more convincing in the light of the account of find-spots gleaned by Jeppesen and Waywell from Newton’s report on his excavations (see Jeppesen, 2002, 9– 11, 170–82, 194–9). Moreover, since the Mausoleum was a new and highly original creation, comparisons with earlier monuments and with the its smaller-scale successors can be misleading. 85 F. Krischen, Weltwunder der Baukunst in Babylonien und Jonien (Tubingen 1956), suggests that the Tower ¨ of Babel and the Tomb of Cyrus of Persia were among the forerunners of the Mausoleum; and the pyramid as a crowning element seems to point definitely to Egypt, as does the brother-sister marriage of Mausollos and Artemisia. Pyramids and tumuli both suggest eternity; tumuli often crown hilltops, as at Belevi and at Nemrud Dag. The latter, standing over 2000 m above sea level, is an extreme example of the ruler (Antiochos I of Kommagene) being elevated above earthly existence.

Notes to pages 81–2 86 Newton, 1862, 480ff., 1865, 2. 214ff., 1880, 82–5; Krischen, 1944, 173ff.; Busing, 1970, 21, 77, 83, ¨ fig. 29; Lawrence, 1983, 254, 255 fig. 227, 391 note 11 (in which R.A. Tomlinson notes that a date as late as the second century cannot be excluded). 87 Love, 1972, 63–4. It has also been suggested that the portico was designed by Sostratos of Knidos, whose name is associated with the Pharos at Alexandria. The Elder Pliny (NH 36.83) records that Sostratos ‘is said to have been the first to build a portico supported on piers’ [‘ambulationem pensilem’ could also indicate ‘on columns,’ or even simply ‘on substructures’]; ‘this he did at Cnidus.’ 88 It should be remembered, however, that widening of the central span had been commonplace in Ionic temple facades from Archaic times onward. The presence of this feature in Classical Athenian Doric was probably due to a combination of influences: the polytriglyphy of Archaic Doric structures in wood, which is well attested in black-figured vase paintings; the widened central span of the Older Propylaia of the Acropolis; and the increasing influence of Ionic on later Archaic and Classical Doric. 89 Newton, 1862, 487. 90 See the description of a similar keystone in the account by Philo of Byzantion of the construction of the doorways of granaries, below, 152–3, in chapter 7. 91 In the reconstruction proposed by the excavators, the door on the north side is not indicated. 92 Decorative shields were not only military emblems, but can also be interpreted as symbols of protection from evil spirits. From the later fourth century onward, they often appear in monuments of Macedonian inspiration. 93 Newton, 1862, 502. 94 Bean/Cook 1952, 181 note 44, date the lagynos after the mid-fourth century, but Tomlinson (in Lawrence, 1983, 391 note 11) notes that a date as late as the second century, both for the vase and for the tomb, cannot be excluded. Newton mistakenly called the vase a lekythos. 95 See above, 79 and note 57. 96 Gebe Kilisse: Radt, 1970, 219ff. and fig. 19; Asarlık: Newton, 1862, 586; Halikarnassos: see preceding note. 97 Charmyleion: see below, 84; Miletos Heroon: see below, note 109.

293

98 See Franke/Hirmer, 1964, pl. 186. 99 Relocation of the city from the vicinity of Datc¸a to the end of the peninsula was suggested in Bean/Cook, 1952, 202ff.; although the theory of actual relocation has been questioned by Love 1973, 421, it is clear that a good deal of expansion and new building activity took place at Knidos around the middle and in the third quarter of the fourth century. 100 Pliny, NH 36.20–2. 101 See S. Miller, 1973, 189–213. 102 Roger, 1939, 35, comparing the Lion Monument at Amphipolis with the Lion Tomb at Knidos, says: ‘Les diff´erences ne sont que dans les d´etails d’organisation et de proportions; le sch´ema g´en´eral est identique.’ On the discovery and reassembling of the remains of the Amphipolis monument, see also O. Broneer, The Lion Monument at Amphipolis (Cambridge, Mass., 1941). For the present study Busing’s drawing ¨ (Busing 1970, fig. 30) is important for the ¨ comparision with the Knidian tomb. 103 On Ta Marmara see below, 85. 104 Definitively published by C. Praschniker, M. Theuer, et al. (Praschniker/Theuer, 1979) 105 The core of the so-called Tomb of the Ptolemies at Rhodini, south of Rhodes city, was also hewn out of a rocky hillock, as were also the Doric half-columns surrounding the basement. 106 The column-shafts had 24 flutes. Keil, 1935, 122, gives the lower diameter as 0.92 m, and calculates the total height as 8.5 m Von Gerkan, 1959, 223, states that the height of the columns should be 10 l.d. 107 Langaza: Macridy, 1911, 193ff.; Telmessos: see below, 86. 108 The remarkable feature of the entablature was the cyma reversa anthemion frieze between the architrave and the dentils. The kyma-profiled frieze appears for first time in the interior entablature of the Tholos at Epidauros; in the third century the anthemion ornament is added, in the Monument of Aristaineta at Delphi (Lawrence, 1983, 269 fig. 242), the Naiskos at Didyma, and perhaps in the slightly earlier temple at Kastabos (Cook/Plommer, 1966, frontispiece and 96–102). Willemsen, 1959, 67, says of the lion-heads of the Didyma Naiskos: ‘mit den Lowen von Belevi ¨ gehen sie fraglos eng zusammen.’

294

Notes to pages 82–6

109 No blocks were found that could have belonged to a stepped pyramid; the nature of the building, however, presupposes such a feature, had the design ever been completed. Praschniker/Theuer, 1979, 272–3, suggested an angle of 45 rather than 30 degrees for the pyramidal roof. Hoepfner 1993b, however, rejects the theory of a crowning pyramid; he also assigns the palm-capitals (see below) to the exterior of the N face. 110 In that event the designer of the mausoleum must have been familiar with the scheme of the adyton at Didyma; see Voigtl¨ander, 1975, 70. 111 Praschniker/Theuer, 1979, 46–8 and fig. 35b nos. 1, 2b. 112 Seven coffer reliefs can be assigned to the north side, the remaining seventeen to the other sides of the pteron. 113 Lefkadhia: see below, 87–8; Propylon of Ptolemy II, see above, 43–4, in chapter 2. 114 See above, 11, in chapter 1. 115 The ceiling slabs of the peristyle of the Epidauros Tholos show circular holes in addition to the impressions of clamps (Roux, 1961, 15 fig. 34). A similar technical detail is found at Kastabos, where blocks 19 and 36 recall ‘the round dowelholes (or peg-holes) on column drums from the Mausoleum of Belevi’ (Cook / Plommer, 1966, 141), and on column drums from the temple of Apollo at Klaros (after 281; see Dimitriou / Klammet, 1976, fig. 77). 116 Schober, 1933. Lehmann, 1969, 346 says of the Belevi sculptures: ‘Some of Keil’s associates favored the second-century date ... In the meantime, the relative merits of a late fourth- or a late second-century date for its sculptures, the evaluation of their style as late classical or classicistic, must remain a difficult and disputed question.’ 117 On the tumulus, see Kasper, 1975. 118 For a discussion of the date and commissioner of the mausoleum, see Praschniker/Theuer, 1979, 188–200; as assigned to Antiochos II, see Voigtl¨ander in Linders/Hellstrom, 1989, ¨ 44; however, Hoepfner, 1993b, argues that the mausoleum was built for Lysimachos, and that there was only one period of construction. 119 Tomba Ildebranda, Sovana: Boethius, 1978, 42 fig. 29l; ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies’: ClarRhod 1 (1928) 55, Lauter, 1972, 55–7, Fraser, 1977, 5ff.; Tower Tomb at Ptolemais, see below, 94.

120 On Ai Khanum, see below, 128–9, in chapter 6, ‘Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths.’ 121 Although mentioned as early as 1850 (ArchZeit 7, no. 22 [1850] 244–6), the monument was described in detail only in 1924, in Schazmann, 1924, 110– 27. The inscription belonging to the monument reads: ‘Sacred is the land and the building on the land, the gardens and the buildings in the gardens, to the Twelve Gods and to Charmylos, hero of the Charmyle(i)oi’; Sherwin-White, 1977, 205–17, suggests a date in the first half of the third century for the inscription. For plan and elevations, see Kader, 1995, 226. 122 Miletos Heroon: Kleiner, 1968, 129ff. 123 It is possible that an interior stairway led up to this open aedicula, or cult-room. 124 Dyggve, 1952, 491ff.; K¨ahler, 1971, 23–4. 125 See above, note 119. 126 Wiegand, 1902, 149–50. 127 The columns were all fluted except for the sides facing the cella walls; below the echinus four annulets adorned the necks of the capitals. 128 The frieze was monotriglyphal, except for the facade, where there were three triglyphs above the central span (in front of the doorway) and two over the lateral spans. 129 See below, 125, in chapter 6. 130 See below, 125, in chapter 6, with notes 74–5. 131 Juko Ito, 2002b, 21–56, figs. 23–47 and pls. 26–53, esp. figs. 43–7 and pls. 46–53; for the Corinthian capital, see figs. 40–2; for the triangular corner blocks, 104 figs. 3–4. 132 Ibid., fig. 34. 133 On Damophon see Paus. 4.31.6–10, 7.23.6–7, 8.31.2–6 and 8.37.3; Pausanias describes him as ‘the only Messenian sculptor of note known to me.’ 134 Asia Minor : Lykia: Benndorf/Niemann, 1884; Petersen / von Luschan, 1889; Borchhardt, 1975; Kjeldsen/Zahle, 1975; Karia: Roos, 1972; Phrygia: Haspels, 1971; Kappadokia: CRAI (Jan.–Mar. 1977) 108ff.; Paphlagonia: von Gall, 1966 Israel-Jordan: Avigad, 1954; Avi-Yonah, 1976; Negev, 1976 and 1977; Schmidt-Colinet, 1980 Cyprus: Jeffery, 1915; Gjerstad, 1956 Alexandria: Adriani, 1936 Cyrene: Stucchi, 1975 Italy: Canosa: ConvegnoMagnaGrecia 9, 71ff. Sovana: Bianchi Bandinelli, 1929; Norchia: Demus-Quatember, 1953

Notes to pages 86–8

135

136

137 138

139

140

141

142

143

Illyria: Ceka, 1972 Aegean: Thera: Dragendorff, 1903; Rhodes: ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies,’ notes 105, 119 above. This tomb, however, is of a more complex type, imitating free-standing podium-tombs such as the Belevi Mausoleum; see Oleson, 1976, 115–23. Steps are not a common feature of these tombs; access to them in antiquity, as today, was doubtless in many cases by means of ropes lowered from above. In this connection, note also a capital from Kavalla, in Heuzey/Daumet, 1876, pl. I fig. 7. Akurgal, 1973, 256, dates the tomb to the fourth century on the basis of the Ionic ovolo of the door lintel. Benndorf and Niemann, 1884, favoured a date in the later fourth century. See also P. Roos, 1992. There are two areas with rock-cut burials at Telmessos. The older types of tombs, those of exclusively Lykian design and some of the elevated sarcophagi, are grouped around the old acropolis hill. It seems that at some time in the fourth century a new cliff site was selected for the Ionic tombs, among them the Tomb of Amyntas. The native Lykian types of rock-cut tomb are much less prominent in this new cliffcemetery. Best known as the name of the father of Philip II. The name appears often among Macedonian military men; see Wissowa, 1894. Bibliography in Kurtz/Boardman, 1971, 376–7, and S. Miller, 1971. Mound-tombs were not of course a Macedonian innovation; even in the upper Balkans, Herodotos describes the mound burials of Scythian kings (4.71) and of wealthy Thracians (5.8). The tombs now to be described, however, with a complex built structure within the mound, have no earlier parallels in the region. Vergina: Rhomaios, 1951; Langaza: Macridy, 1911; Paraskevaidis, 1962, 449; Lefkadhia: Rhomiopoulou, 1973, 87–92. These tombs show a good deal of variety in the use of the orders. The half-columns at Vergina were attached to projecting pilasters, while at Lefkadhia each of the four engaged columns stands free for three-quarters of its circumference. At Langaza, quarter-columns attached to pilasters were employed at the corners. Gardner/Casson, 1919, 15 fig. 1.

295

144 Soteriades, 1930; Boardman, 1970, 143–4, where the author draws attention to a narrow painted frieze in the funeral chamber, which has strong affinities with woven textiles found in the frozen tombs of Pazirik in Siberia. 145 However, one tomb, near Stavroupolis, was built entirely of local marble (Praktika [1953] 133–40). 146 Petsas, 1966, and see also Bacchielli, 1983, 1984. 147 Martin, 1968, 183, says that the nose-profile of the triglyphs cannot be earlier than the beginning of the third century. S. Miller, 1971, 102, prefers a fourth-century date for the triglyphs, which are of the Attic type. 148 The third-century Tomb I in the Mustafa Pasha cemetery at Alexandria shows a similar treatment of the painted frieze above the central doorway of the south side, but the execution of the shadowlines is much more superficial. 149 The large Doric tomb at Vergina (‘Tomb of Philip’) has a similar frieze, but no upper storey. 150 There are four pilasters (without bases) on all sides except the west, which contains the doorway. The necks of the pilasters are painted with discs and surmounted by a band of leafand-dart. Presumably garlands were hung on all the walls between the pilasters, as shown in the painted garlands in the later Tomb of Lyson and Kallikles at Lefkadhia. 151 Petsas, 1961, 404, calls the arrangement ‘a peristyle with stoas around it.’ 152 Cyrenaica: Perini, 1971, 23–4; Canosa: above, note 135, pl. II Tomb no. 3; Kandyba: Wurster, 1976, 48. Wurster gives no description of the two-storeyed tomb, merely mentioning its existence (‘insbesondere zwei Gra¨ ber mit lykischer Inschrift, ein zweigeschossiger Fassadengrab’). 153 Martin, 1968, 171ff.; for other examples of twostoreyed structures see Coulton, 1976, esp. 124ff. 154 For an interesting interpretation of the design of the facade, see Bacchielli, 1983 and 1984. 155 Diodorus Siculus (18.26.8) says that the satrap Arrhidaios spent two years on the construction of the funeral carriage of Alexander; for a detailed study see Muller, 1905. ¨ 156 The other three are the ‘Kinch Tomb’ (KnglDanskVidenskSel Skrifter 7. HistFilAfd IV.3 [1920] 483ff.); the Lyson and Kallikles Tomb (Archaeology 37 [1974] 248ff.); and an Ionic

296

157

158 159 160 161 162

163 164

165 166 167

168 169 170

171 172

Notes to pages 88–92

tomb discovered in 1971 and reported in Rhomiopoulou, 1973. Although some scholars still dissent from the view, following M. Andronikos’s discovery and excavation of the ‘Tomb of Philip II’ at Vergina, a growing body of opinion has favoured the placing of Aigeiai there, in the vicinity of the Palatitsa palace, rather than in the neighbourhood of Edessa; see, e.g., Lane Fox, 1980, 77–93. The Vergina location was first suggested by N.G.L. Hammond (1972, 156–8) and more recently reaffirmed by him in Hammond, 1997; on the question of the Vergina tombs see Hammond, 1978 and 1982. Andronikos, 1984, 86–217; see also Lane Fox, 1980, and Hammond, 1978 and 1982. Andronikos, 1984, 86–95 with figs. 46–54. Ibid., 198–217 with figs. 160–85. External dimensions 9.5 m long, 5.58 m high. Andronikos, 1984, 97–159, with figs. 55 (cutaway view), 56–7 (facade), 58–71 (painted frieze of facade), and 72–159 (furnishings shown in situ and separately after cleaning and conservation). Ibid., 218–33; Lane Fox, 1980, 81–92. Andronikos, 1984, 101–17 and figs. 58–71. Andronikos maintains, with strong probability though not certainty, that the central mounted figure represented Alexander, the horseman toward the right end Philip II himself. See the discussion in Lauter, 1986, 59–61. Other types of funerary monument are briefly discussed by Noshy, 1937, 36ff. Adriani, 1972, 146, comments that ‘the locality is also known by the name of Mafrusa, hence the double denomination by which the tomb is cited in the archaeological literature: hypogeum of Suq el Wardiyan or of Mafrusa.’ If one wishes to distinguish between the two names, Wardian is the western section of the district. A detailed account of this tomb is given in Thiersch, 1904, 6ff. Adriani, 1972, 122–3. On the possible location of the Mausoleum of Alexander, see Bernhard, 1957, 129–56, and Fraser, 1972, 1: 15ff. E. Breccia, 1922; Noshy, 1937, 30ff.; Lyttelton, 1974, 41–2. Noshy, 1937, 62, remarks that ‘the Doric halfcolumns decorating the vestibule are identical

173

174

175

176

177

178 179

180 181 182 183

184 185 186

with the columns of Arsinoe’s chapel’; but see Busing, 1970, 59 and 78, who notes the generally ¨ accepted second-century date of the latter (now vanished) monument. See also below, 170–1, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture.’ Excavated by Adriani, and published in Adriani, 1936; see also Adriani, 1972; plan and colour restoration in Grimm, 1998, 94–5 and figs. 93e–f. Stylistically comparable with the large frieze on the Lefkadhia Great Tomb, with the horseman in the so-called Kinch Tomb near Lefkadhia, and to some extent with the horsemen in the large frieze of the ‘Tomb of Philip’ at Vergina. Tholos representations in a similar funeral context are found in wall-paintings in the GraecoEgyptian cemetery at Hermopolis; see S. Gabra, ‘New Proof of Greek Influence in Ptolemaic Egypt,’ Illustrated London News, 21 April 1934. K¨ahler, 1948, 173 note 69. K¨ahler dates the painted panel to the third quarter of the third century. Lauter, 1977, 149ff., and esp. 153, where Lauter comments on the anta capitals of the kline chamber (Oecus 10): ‘in der unvegetabilischen Bildung seiner Helices erinnert es noch an Kapitelle des fruhen 3. Jahrhunderts.’ ¨ But see below, 171 in chapter 8, for another interpretation of the architecture of this tomb (F.E.W.). There is one small-scale, and entirely rock-cut, tomb at Pogredac in Albania (ancient Illyria; see Ceka 1972, 209 and pl. X), in which the simple undecorated and sunken front of the sepulchral chamber is preceded by a miniature auditorium. Elsewhere only the decorated skene front seems to have been imitated in funerary architecture. Thiersch, 1904, 1ff. Diod. Sic. 18.26.8. See Adriani, 1966, 19ff. These segmental pediments are generally dated to the late Ptolemaic period; see Lyttelton, 1974, 46–7. Adriani, 1966, 146–8. H. Riad, 1967, 82–9 (Tomb 1). Riad’s date now seems too early. A major study of the Pharos and related monuments was published by H. Thiersch (1909), and Thiersch’s proposed restoration has been regularly reproduced in later works. Underwater studies of recent years, however, suggest that the

Notes to pages 92–4

187 188

189 190

191

192 193 194

sculptural decoration of the lighthouse complex was much more extensive, and more varied in style, and the architecture perhaps less obviously Greek, than Thiersch realized; see, for example, La Riche, 1996, and especially the remarks of Jean-Pierre Corteggiani quoted on p. 52. A program on the Discovery television channel, 11 January 2004, showed the Pharos collapsing as a result of ‘some natural disaster,’ in a manner reminiscent of the New York tragedy of 11 September 2001; many of the building’s blocks have recently been identified on the seabed. Fraser, 1972, 1: 17ff. The Arab traveller Ibn Batuta visited the site in 1349, and noted that it was impossible even to approach the doorway because of its ruinous condition; see Gibb, 1956. One plethron = 100 Greek feet, or approximately 30 m. On the appearance of the Pharos, see the recent discussion in Grimm 1998, 44–5 with figs. 43a–c; fig. 43a shows a model of the structure. According to Goodchild, 1961, 222, ‘the combined testimony of the Gasr el-Lebia mosaic and of the British Museum gem would seem to favour the supposition that a bronze Helios statue, of colossal proportions, surmounted the Pharos of Alexandria during at least one phase of its long life.’ The statue has also been thought to have represented Zeus or Poseidon. Coins from Domitian to Commodus; see Thiersch, 1909, 156 tables I–III. See La Riche, 1996. Above, note 187. Sostratos may already have built a lighthouse at his native Knidos. Strabo (14.656) mentions the two harbours of Knidos, and the American excavators regarded as a lighthouse the remains at the entrance to the trireme harbour (TurkArkDerg 16 [1967] 134). The lighthouse(s) ¨ could have been inspired by the ‘observing station in front of Knidos’ (Strabo 17.807) used in the earlier fourth century by the mathematician and astronomer Eudoxos; and Sostratos, in turn, could have been invited to Alexandria because of his experience in building a lighthouse tower (or towers) at Knidos. In any event, Fraser’s scepticism seems excessive, given the fame of Sostratos as architect of the ‘hanging stoa’ at Knidos (above, note 87); he was evidently one of the outstanding

195 196

197

198

199

200

201

202

203 204 205 206

297

architect-engineers of the early Hellenistic age (see the remarks of Lauter, 1986, 29) (F.E.W.). Adriani, 1950, 133ff. The tower was restored in 1937–9, and stands approximately 20 m high. One of the earliest known combinations of a sailor’s landmark (perhaps a lighthouse?) with a memorial comes from the late sixth or early fifth century. An epigram from Thasos refers to the twofold purpose of a tower: ‘I am the memorial of Akeratos, son of Ph . . . erides, and I lie at the roadstead’s utmost point, bringing safety to ships and to sailors: so farewell’ (Tod/Baker-Penoyre, 1909, 96). Di Vita, 1976, 273ff.; the monument was reconstructed in 1970. On Punic-Numidian monuments in general, see Horn/Ruger, 1980, ¨ 21–32, and also note 206 below. C. Poinssot and J.W. Salomonson suggest that Phoenicio-Cypriote (called by them ‘Aeolic’) capitals had been introduced to Carthage via Cyprus in the fifth or early fourth century; see Poinssot/Salomonson, 1963, 72ff. One relief shows Bes with lions, another Herakles slaying the Nemean lion; the third has several figures of uncertain meaning. Poinssot, 1958, 58–61. For the revision of the date to the middle of the second century, see Poinssot / Salomonson, 1963, 71, and Rakob, 1980, 156–8; for a colour plate, Horn/Ruger, 1980, pl. 27. ¨ Poinssot and Salomonson had already noted that the identity of the owner of the tomb was far from certain, and in any event the inscription, removed from the tomb in 1842, is not fully preserved; it has even been suggested that the monument may have been built as a cenotaph in honour of Masinissa himself (see the discussion in Rakob, 1980, 157–8). The stepped socle of the first storey measures 9.14 m per side, of the second storey 6.72 m per side, of the third storey 3.04 m. Kraeling, 1962, 113ff.; Stucchi, 1975, 178ff. Crema, 1959, 273, considers them to be forerunners of composite capitals. Marconi, 1929, 124ff. The ‘Souma’ at Khroub can be added to the group of tombs with features analogous to the Tomb of Theron and Punic-Numidian monuments; note especially the false doors of the second storey (Poinssot/Salomonson, 1963, fig. 6.f). Also worth

298

Notes to pages 94–7

mentioning is the so-called Tomb of the Scipios near Tarragona in Spain. Typologically, this structure is closely related to both the Tomb of Theron and the Punic-Numidian monuments, but is somewhat later in date; see Hauschild, 1966. De Miro, 1996, notes that the ‘Tomb of Theron’ and the ‘Oratory of Phalaris,’ both at Akragas, were both built in the early first century BC, but believes that the designer(s) took monuments in Asia Minor as their models. 207 Camps, 1973; for the dates of the Medracen and Kbour-er-Roumia (see below) see the discussion in Rakob, 1980, 132–42, and 450, 452 (notes to pls. 33–4). 208 Christofle, 1951; Lawrence, 1957, 189 and pls. 93–4; recent discussion of the Medracen and ‘Tombeau de la Chr´etienne’ (under its native name Kbour-er-Roumia) in Rakob, 1980 (preceding note); Kbour-er-Roumia is estimated to contain some 80,000 cubic metres of stone. 209 Rolland, 1969.

4 5

6 7 8 9

Chapter 5 1 Vitr. 5.3.1. 2 See below, 197, in chapter 9, ‘The Hellenistic Style in Italy.’ 3 ‘Theatre-temples’ are not confined to Italy; the final form of the Kybele temple at Pessinous (originally in Phrygia, later part of Galatia) was of this type. It should be noted here that while the extant temple at Pessinous is of Roman date (see AJA 92 [1988] 130), Strabo (12.5.3) mentions in connection with Attalid benefactions ‘a temple and stoas of white stone’ (presumably marble); these benefactions were a compensation for the role of Attalos I in the removal of the cult-statue and its transport to Rome. Nothing is now visible of this Hellenistic temple, the remains of which must be covered by the houses of the modern village; Texier, however, evidently saw its foundations and surviving fragments, which he locates to the east of the present-day mosque (see Devreker, 1989). While the performances in the Theatre of Pompey at Rome were certainly not limited to those connected with the cult of Venus, the spectacles in small theatre-temples were likely to be more restricted in content. The term ‘theatretemple,’ however, should be confined to examples

10 11

12

13

where theatre and temple are part of a single complex. It is misleading to speak of a theatretemple at Troy, as C.B. Rose does in his reports (Rose, 1991, 69–77, and 1992, 46–9); Theatre A and the temple of Athena are some distance from each other, and physically quite separate. Aristot., Poetics 1453a. There is still no consensus among scholars about the degree of realism in Greek stage sets, even in Hellenistic times. Webster, GTP 169. As may at one time have been the case at Athens, and as was evidently the case at Thorikos in Attika See Liddell and Scott, s.v. See Travlos, 1971, 540 fig. 677 I; the higher portions of the spectator area would not have been as clearly defined as Travlos suggests, and in any case, as noted below, were more probably rectilinear around a rectilinear orchestra, as in Bieber, 1961, 56 fig. 229 (after Anti, 1947, pl. II), rather than as in Bieber, 1961, 55 fig. 224, and 56 fig. 226 (after Fiechter, 1935–6, pl. 16 and fig. 29). This early auditorium is ‘the theatre of Aischylos’ in Polacco, 1990, pl. 40. Agora XIV 127. Anti, 1947, also Anti/Polacco, 1969, 130–59, ignored in Webster GTP (1956) 6 and Lawrence, 1957 (and again in text and bibliography of the 1983 revision by R.A. Tomlinson), rejected in Bieber, 1961, 55, ignored in Travlos, 1971, and not mentioned by Dearden, 1976 or by Wycherley, 1978. See Anti, 1947, 45–50, 143–5, for a discussion of the theatre at Thorikos in Attika; on the more recently discovered deme-theatre with rectilinear orchestra at Trachones, near Athens, see Ergon (1981) 115– 16 and H.R. Goette, in Pohlmann, 1995, 16–17; on ¨ the orchestra in the agora, see Wycherley, 1978, 74, 204–6. See Anti/Polacco, 1969, 35–93, on rectilinear orchestras and seats arranged in straight rows at Chaironeia, Oropos, and Argos; for a recent discussion of rectilinear orchestras in general, and of the theatre of Dionysos in particular, see Goette, in Pohlmann, 1995, 9–32. If I am correct ¨ in suggesting (below, 98–9) that the earliest permanent stagehouse at Athens could be as early as the late fifth century, the circular orchestra would date from that period. The orchestras at Thorikos and Trachones were presumably

Notes to pages 97–100

14 15 16

17

18 19

20

21

modelled on the fifth-century rectilinear orchestra at Athens, which is discussed by Pohlmann (49– ¨ 60). A reconstructed plan of the early Athenian auditorium, or koilon, orchestra, and skene is given by Polacco, 1990, pl. 40, and by R. Bees, in Pohlmann, 1995, 79 fig. 14; Bees, Pohlmann, and ¨ ¨ Peter von Moellendorf discuss the staging of fifthcentury tragedy and the comedies of Aristophanes in this early setting (ibid., 1995, 73–154). Goette, in Pohlmann, 1995, 33–4. ¨ Cf. Webster, GTP 5; Agora XIV 126. Compare the early tiers of rock-cut seats in straight rows preserved in the Roman Odeion at Argos; see Goette in Pohlmann, 1995, 19 fig. 5. Anti/Polacco, ¨ 1969, 92 fig. 49, gives a suggested restoration of this early Argive theatre. For earlier bibliography and photographs, together with suggested plans of the theatre in different periods of its history, see Travlos, 1971, 537– 52, and esp. 540–1 figs. 677 and 678. See above, however, on the shape of the early orchestra, and below, 99–103, for discussion of the chronology. Bieber, 1961, 129–46 figs. 478–540; Webster, GTP 176–9, 182–5. However, Courtois, 1989, 29–30, does not accept the ‘theatre of Epicharmos’ and ‘of Damokopos’ at Syracuse, the latter with low stage and back wall of wood, as proposed for the period ca. 500–470 in Anti/Polacco, 1981, 161–78 and pls. XXI–XXIV. Courtois dates the earliest phase of the Syracusan theatre between the later fifth century and the construction of the ‘Lykourgan’ theatre at Athens. Bieber, 1961, 130 fig. 480; the relationship between such stagehouses and contemporary single- or two-storeyed tomb facades in Alexandria (Mustafa Pasha cemetery), South Italy (Canosa), and Macedonia (Vergina), remains obscure. On these tomb monuments see above, 86 and note 35, 88, 91. There seems to be no real basis for the date commonly assigned to the Naples plaque; a considerably later date has recently been proposed by Courtois, 1989, 24, following E. Bozzi. However, the occurrence of similar facades on real buildings of the late fourth and the first half of the third century may suggest that an early date could be correct. Webster, GTP, pl. 14; but Caputo (1935, 273– 80) thought that the fragment represented a phlyax performance in Athens by a South Italian company, while Hamilton (1978, 385–7)

22

23

24

25 26

27 28

29 30 31

32

299

suggests that the ‘curtain’ is actually a shorthand perspective representation of the prow of a ship. Whatever the correct interpretation, it is clear that the fragment must be used with great caution in interpreting the staging facilities provided in the contemporary theatre of Dionysos at Athens; see also Baldry, 1971, 45. See Webster, GTP 5ff. and Bieber, 1961, 60, 62 for Athens; but see below, 99–103. On the theatre at Corinth in its Greek phases, see Stillwell, 1952, 15–21, 32–40. See also Gebhard, 1973. Bieber, 1961, 58 fig. 236 (after Fiechter, 1935–6, pl. 18), shows the type of temporary skene, complete with paraskenia, or projecting wings, that could have been supported in front of the stone wall. Goette (in Pohlmann, 1995, 25 and note 57) ¨ suggests that the vertical mast of the crane was mounted near the southwest corner of the platform, but thinks the masonry too heavy to have been built to support the ekkyklema. Of course, serving as a base for the ekkyklema could have been only one of several functions of the platform. On the evidence for the use of crane and ekkyklema in the fifth and fourth centuries see Pohlmann, 1995, 155–64; for suggested forms of ¨ the crane see O. Lendle, in Pohlmann, 1995, 165– ¨ 72. Dearden, 1976, 35, gives a reconstruction of the early skene showing a different proposal for the appearance of the crane. Aristot., Poet. 1449a.18–19; Vitruv. 7.Praef.11. See also Webster, GTP 13–15. Probably the majority of students of ancient drama now accept the notion of such a platform or ‘stage’ in fifth-century Athens; see, e.g., Baldry, 1971, 44–5. Paus. 1.20.3. Kalligas, 1963. Cf. Townsend, 1982, whose view, however, was perhaps at least in part prompted by Kalligas’s discoveries. Travlos, 1971, 537–8, 540 fig. 677 and 548 fig. 685 III–IV. In Pohlmann, 1995, 9–48. ¨ Date of first skene, Goette, ibid., 1995, 25–7; stone koilon started not later than mid-fourth century, and perhaps as early as 370 (before the building of the theatre at Megalopolis, which is dated 368–362, and was inspired by the Athenian model), ibid., 29 and 35; new stone skene planned, if not started, before Lykourgos became tamias, ibid., 30–2. See Winter, 1983.

300

Notes to pages 100–2

33 See Pohlmann, 1995, pl. 13.1 and 79 fig. 14, where ¨ the orientation of the E bank of seats is assumed to have been the determining factor in the layout of the Odeion of Perikles, as argued by Goette (ibid., 28). For a completely rectilinear koilon, and its relation to the Odeion of Perikles, see Polacco’s ‘theatre of Perikles,’ Polacco, 1990, pl. 40. 34 Dinsmoor, 1950, 307; but this long-held view has been rejected as a physical impossibility in Buckler, 1986. It is, however, followed by Anti/Polacco, 1981, 182–4, as a parallel for the proposed movable backdrops in the E and W scenoteche of their fourth-century theatre at Syracuse (see their pls. IX and XXVII); their ‘Syracuse IV’ is the Phase II of Courtois, 1989, which she dates ca. 300. 35 On the scaena versilis and scaena ductilis, see the commentary of Servius on Virgil, Georg. III.24. 36 Pergamon: Bieber, 1961, 62–3 and figs. 243–7. On Delos, see IG XI.2 nos. 105–33, 142–291; Bieber, 1961, 110–12; and Webster, GTP 146–50. At Pergamon, a permanent stone skene, perhaps used only for relatively short periods each year, would have almost completely blocked the view along the terrace to the temple of Dionysos; D. Romano (below, note 84) has suggested that the removable wooden stagehouse was intended to permit the use of the theatre-terrace as a stadium, but such usage would have been feasible only if the onestade race took the form of a diaulos. 37 Anti/Polacco, 1981, 185–6, seem to suggest that the Thersilion colonnade was never used as a backdrop for plays in the theatre; even accepting the existence of a scaena ductilis, however, it is likely that this rather cumbersome device would only have been used for plays for which the stone colonnade was totally unsuitable. 38 See Bieber, 1961, 60 figs. 241–2 (after Fiechter, 1935–6, figs. 32–4), for possible forms of wooden paraskenia projecting from the wooden background wall. A low platform between the stone paraskenia of the Lykourgan theatre is shown in the Ch. Schieckel model in Munich, Pohlmann, 1995, pl. 13.2; a similar arrangement ¨ would have been possible between the wooden paraskenia of Bieber’s illustrations. 39 See Arnott, 1959, 35 figs. II–III, for a proposed restoration of the earlier wooden stage and of the stage placed between the projecting paraskenia of

40

41 42 43 44

45 46

47

48

49

the later fourth century. For the new skene and paraskenia of the later fourth century, see Winter, 1983, 41–5 with figs. Dearden’s suggestion that the early stage was more or less confined to the width of the projecting stone platform – thus, for reasons of visibility, excluding the possibility of having paraskenia (Dearden, 1976, 35, reconstruction) – seems unlikely, since it allows for only limited movement of the actors. The Hellenistic proskenion of the theatre of Dionysos has traditionally been dated ca. 200; but see below, 102, 103. Winter, 1983. For Dorpfeld’s restoration, see Dorpfeld / Reisch, ¨ ¨ 1896, pl. II; criticized by Dinsmoor, 1950, 248 note 4. For a low ‘stage’ between the paraskenia, see Webster, GTP 25–6, and Arnott, 1962, fig. III. The Ch. Schieckel model in Munich shows a twoaisled, single-storeyed skene with a flat roof, for actors supposed to be appearing at a higher level (Pohlmann, 1995, pl. 13.2). The projecting ¨ paraskenia flank a low (presumably wooden) stage, and have gabled roofs rising above the level of the skene roof; if my interpretation is correct, however, the roofs of the paraskenia would also have been flat. For the Delian inscriptions, see IG XI.105–33, 142– 91. On grounds quite different from mine, R. Townsend (1985 and 1986) supports the theory of a free-standing colonnade, but seems to retain Dorpfeld’s wall right behind it. ¨ Fourth-century and later developments are discussed at some length, sometimes with conclusions different from mine, in two important articles of S. Gogos (1989 and 1998). These interior bases have no structural connection whatever with any other part of the skene, and cannot therefore be definitely assigned to any particular phase of construction. In Guide de Thasos, 1968, 50–4 and figs. 17–19, an early-third-century date was suggested; however, Bonias/Marc, 1996, 882–8, now suggest an earlier phase of the theatre, with paraskenia that were demolished later to permit the construction of the extant straight proskenion, the architectural fragments of which are in their view contemporary with a third-century phase of the auditorium. The Hellenistic theatre at Troy has been dated to 306

Notes to pages 102–6

50 51

52

53

54

55

56 57

58

(or soon after); see Rose, 1991, 72–3; however, the plans and photographs, ibid., 69 fig. 1 and 71 fig. 2, and Rose, 1992, 46 fig. 1 and 47 fig. 2, seem not to show any remains that are necessarily pre-Roman, and there is no specific mention of the form of the skene in the Hellenistic theatre, although Goette, in Pohlmann, 1995, 32, states that there was in fact ¨ a proskenion. See note 45 above. There is more evidence for the form of the thyromata at Oropos than anywhere else; and the dedicatory inscription preserves most of the word thyroma itself; see Petrakos, 1968, 88 fig. 13 and 90 fig. 15, for the proskenion and episkenion inscriptions. On Oropos in general, see most recently Goette, 1995. Cf. GTP 21 for the traditional view; but Webster eventually moved much closer to the view advanced later in this chapter (cf. GTP 2 173–4 [21]). For the Peiraeius theatre inscription, see IG II2.2334. This inscription does not specifically refer to the construction either of the theatre or of the stagehouse, but rather lists the persons who contributed to the decoration (or re-decoration) of the skene at the period when the inscription was cut. Thus it must be used with caution in determining the original date of construction of any part of the complex. For the suggestion of an early Hellenistic date for the Peiraieus proskenion, see Winter, 1983, 46. The proskenion at Thasos, however, may originally have been flanked by paraskenia, which were suppressed when the extant straight proskenion was built later in the third century; see above, note 49. I take the end of Vitr. 5.7.1, to refer to ‘right’ and ‘left’ ends of the proskenion; no Greek proskenion, as far as I know, ever looked, on plan, like the structure in M.H. Morgan, Vitruvius (New York 1960), 152. In the 1931 Loeb edition of Vitruvius, F. Granger did not attempt a plan of the ‘Greek’ theatre; but Vitruvius probably had in mind the plan shown in Bieber, 1961, 127 fig. 475. See von Gerkan, 1921 and 1961. Miletos: Krauss, 1973, 5–43; on the theatres in Asia Minor in general, see de Bernardi Ferrero; on Ephesos, in particular, de Bernardi Ferrero, 3: 50, 64 and pl. VIII. Vitr. 5.7.2.

301

59 See the discussion of sites in Courtois, 1989, 29– 53; note, however, that in her view some of the remains regarded by the excavators as parts of proskenia were probably footings for supporting a low stage of Western Greek type. 60 Webster, GTP, xiii and 137, and 1963, 20; Toynbee, A Study of History (abr. D.C. Somervell, London and New York 1946), 1: 466. 61 Paus. 2.27.5. 62 Roux, 1961, 184–6; von Gerkan, 1961, 78–80. 63 The argument that all three artists named Polykleitos are mentioned elsewhere only as sculptors is irrelevant, unless we are prepared to state categorically that there were no other persons of that name in the Argolid-Epidauria region during the fourth century; it is doubtful whether any scholar would make such a statement. 64 Paus. 5.10.3. 65 The career of Lysippos extended from the middle or late sixties at least to the mid-teens of the fourth century. Thus, there seems to be no reason to doubt the possibility of an architect named Polykleitos having being active from 330, or even 350, until the early years of the third century. 66 K¨appel, 1989, maintains that the overall plan is the work of a single period, even if the upper part of the koilon was not built until later. Goette, in Pohlmann, 1995, 32–3, notes that the entablature of ¨ the parodos gates is somewhat later than, though closely related to, the interior entablature of the Tholos; this observation would seem to support von Gerkan’s dating. 67 Shoe, 1936, 75, 115, 135, 149, 157. 68 Von Gerkan, 1921, pls. 31, 36; 1961, pls. 27, 29 left. 69 Dinsmoor, 1950, 301 and note 3; O. Broneer, AJA 67 (1963) 224–5. 70 See note 66 above on the stylistic relationship between the parodos-gates and the somewhat earlier Tholos. 71 For the Ionic capitals of the proskenion at Epidauros, see von Gerkan, 1961, pls. 19, 21; for the other capitals of the Argolid and Epidauros see Roux, 1961, 79 fig. 11 (Argos), 297 fig. 91 (Kotys), 261 fig. 69 (North Propylaia), and 231 fig. 54 (Temple L). 72 For the entablature of the proskenion at Priene see von Gerkan, 1921, pls. 30, 36; for the other Doric buildings see Priene, 1904, 190–1, 195, and 264–5; on Miletos and Magnesia, see 56, 58, 60,

302

73

74

75 76

77 78

79

80 81 82

Notes to pages 106–10

in chapter 3. It is true that a different set of proportions is found in the Doric entablature of the proskenion at Thasos, in spite of the use of a polytriglyphal frieze; however, the higher architrave and more Classical proportions of the frieze at Thasos were made possible only by including both architrave and frieze in a single course. Even so, a new proedria (seats of honour), at a higher level of the koilon, was subsequently provided at Priene. Webster’s objection to the placing of ‘interior’ sets actually inside the thyromata of the episkenion (GTP 25–6) was due to his earlier conviction that Menander wrote his plays for production on a low stage, just above the level of the orchestra. In view of the modest height of the ground storey of the skene, his objection was certainly reasonable. I believe, however, that he would have reached a different conclusion with regard to the arrangement of interior sets, had he fully appreciated the weight of arguments in favour of the appearance of the proskenion-stage, probably already partly in stone, ca. 325. If these arguments are accepted, Rumpf’s interpretation of the Dioskourides mosaic of the Synaristosai, on which Webster relied, probably favours (rather than militates against) the placing of the set just inside the thyroma. The present gates are partly modern, partly a pastiche of ancient bits and pieces. E.g., as at Thasos (above note 49). The widened central span at Thasos is also common elsewhere; cf. the plan of the Peiraieus proskenion, Praktika (1881), plan foll. p. 69. See above, 47–8, in chapter 2, and 68–70, in chapter 3. Elis: Bieber, 1961, 75 fig. 277 (plan of stagehouse), Papachatzis, 1979, 407 fig. 372 (view from E); Dodona: Mussche, 1963, 26, 87; Kirsten / Kraiker, 1962, 746; Syracuse: Courtois, 1989, 33 (the surviving Doric members presumably belonged to the episkenion). The form of the much larger Hellenistic stagehouses at Ephesos and Miletos is obscured by the Roman additions and alterations. On the theatre at Oropos, see Goette, 1995. Vitr. 5.9.5. Vitr. 5.9.1. Bieber, 1961, figs. 455 and 448; it is possible that the stoa at Ephesos was built in early Roman

83 84

85 86 87 88 89

90

91 92

93 94

times, but this question is irrelevant insofar as illustrations of the recommendation of Vitruvius are concerned. For a restored plan of Samothrace, see K. Lehmann, (1983), pl. IV. On the Pergamene stagehouse, see Bieber, 1961, 61–3 figs. 243–7. The suggestion of D. Romano (AJA 86 [1982] 586–9), that the terrace also served as a stadium, seems rather implausible. See above, 98. See above, notes 18 and 20, on South Italian vase representations and the Naples plaque. Webster, GTP 101–19; cf. Webster, 1963, 53–7. Webster, 1963, 55 (Rhegion), 53, 57 (Livius Andronicus and Tarentum). Herakleia: de Miro, 1958, 232 fig. 1, 243–57. On the other sites, see Bieber, 1961, 168–70 and figs. 597– 603 (Syracuse, Tyndaris, Segesta), 170–4 and esp. fig. 607A (Pompeii); Anti/Polacco, 1981, 179–200 (on Syracuse IV and V, ca. 300 and time of Hieron II); Courtois, 1989, 30–3 (Syracuse, distinguishing three Greek phases: late fifth to fourth century, after Lykourgan skene at Athens, and time of Hieron II), 44–8 (Tyndaris, Segesta), with earlier literature, and Dinsmoor, 1950, 299. Cf. Bieber, 1961, 116–24, for Hellenistic examples; on the possibly Roman date of the ‘Phlyakes’ stage, cf. Webster, 1963, 51. But see the comments of Courtois, 1989, 32–3. Courtois, 1989, 44–8, suggests that the theatre at Tyndaris may date from the time of Hieron II, i.e., in the third or fourth quarter of the third century, that at Segesta from the late third century to ca. 150, with modifications in the later second century, after the first Slave Revolt in Sicily (ca. 139–132); but there seems to be no compelling reason why the theatre at Segesta could not postdate the second uprising of slaves at the end of the century, in which Segesta again played a leading role. The theatre at Tyndaris was assigned by Bieber to this same period; if it was in fact appreciably earlier than the structure at Segesta, its design may have influenced that of the latter theatre. Bieber, 1961, 118–19 figs. 452–5. Auberson/Schefold (e.g., 1972, 49 fig. 4, 51 fig. 5, and 48–53) suggest that the fourth-century remodelling took place early in the century, rather than late; however, it seems to me more likely that his penultimate Greek phase is yet another

Notes to pages 110–15

95

96 97

98 99

100 101

102 103

104

105 106

example of the introduction of a proskenionstage in the late fourth century, in this case in a community where the traditions of theatre production had been formed during a long period of dependency on Athens. Magnesia theatre: Magnesia (1904) 23 fig. 7; Priene gate-arches: Priene, 1904, 43–4; on Tyndaris see note 89 above, and Courtois, 1989, 44–6. See Boyd,1978; de Bernardi Ferrero, 2: 181–97 (Alinda) and 4: 61–2 and 125. See below, 151–3, in chapter 7 ‘Covered Halls and Storehouses,’ for Philo’s description of arches and vaults in granaries. G.G. Scott, cited in The Oxford Universal Dictionary (Oxford 1955), s.v. ‘Architecture.’ Compare the widely differing plans of the auditoria at Athens, Epidauros, Delos, Trachones, Thorikos, Priene, and Pergamon. Contrast with these the generally quite regular plans of Roman theatres, even in the smaller provincial towns. Epist. 2.1.156. On the phases of the stadium at Epidauros, including the construction of the vaulted passage beneath the northern bank of seats, see Patrucco, 1976, with discussion of chronology. On discoveries in the stadium of Nemea, see S.G. Miller, 1990, 171–86 and, for a detailed publication, S.G. Miller, 2001. The vaulted passage at Olympia cannot predate the final phase of the stadium or the commencement of work on the Echo Colonnade, but seems to be earlier than the Corinthian entrance-gate. On the entrance-gate see Busing, ¨ 1970, 8, where a date in the second half of the second century is accepted; on stylistic grounds a date ca. 150 or a bit earlier is possible. E. Kunze, 1959, 266–70, Beil. 2 and figs. 1–4. On the ancient sources dealing with the Circus Flaminius and Circus Maximus, see Platner / Ashby, 1929, 111–20; for further discussion of construction see below, 189–90. On the stadium at Epidauros see note 101 above. S.G. Miller, 1990, 177, notes that the stadia at Epidauros and Nemea are the only ones known to have had 100-ft markers along the sides of the track; the spacing at Epidauros indicates a footunit of 0.302 m For the stadium at Nemea see note 101 above. Reconstruction of the passage and W end of the tunnel is illustrated in Miller, 1990, 184 fig. 65.

303

107 Ibid., 1990, 185–6. See also Miller, 1980a, and below, 124–5, on the gymnasium at Amphipolis, on dedicated lanes and turns at the end of the stadium in longer races such as the diaulos. 108 On the ancient and modern sources for the Athenian stadium, see Travlos, 1971, 498; for a restored plan and view of the structure at the time of the excavations of 1870, see ibid., 500–3 figs. 629, 630, and 632. D. Romano’s proposal to locate both the Panathenaic stadium and the theatre of Lykourgos on the Pnyx seems unlikely to win general acceptance (AJA 89 [1985] 441–54). 109 Paus. 1.19.6. 110 On Delphi see Aupert, 1979 and the review by S.G. Miller, AJA 85 (1981) 501–6. 111 S.G. Miller, 1980b; on Amphipolis, see 124–5 below. 112 Side: see Winter, 1959, 191 fig. 4; note that my restoration of the upper part of the wall should be corrected in accordance with Mansel, 1963, 29 fig. 16 and 30 fig. 17c. Perge: see Akurgal, 1978, pl. 14b (stadium), and Winter, 1971, 142 fig. 118 (walls). 113 Kleiner, 1968, 110 and fig. 81. 114 On the theatres, see above, notes 63–5; on the stadium at Perge, see above, 111 and note 112; on Lindos, see below, 217–18, in chapter 10, ‘Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape.’ 115 Winter, 1971, 91–5. Chapter 6 1 Vitr. 5.10 and 11. 2 Vitr. 5.11.2. 3 On the meaning and use of the various technical words associated with the palaistra and with baths, see Nielsen, 1990, 153–66. 4 As we shall see below, 132–4, the assumption that baths with hypocaust systems were unknown before the first century BC, and were an Italic innovation, is no longer valid. Moreover, the supposed connection of C. Sergius Orata with the invention of the hypocaust in the early first century BC has recently been challenged (see below 133–4, with notes 131–6). 5 Vitr. 5.10.5; on circular rooms in Greek baths at Gortys, Eretria, Olympia, and elsewhere, see below, 132–3.

304

Notes to pages 116–19

6 Vitr. 5.10.3 and 5. 7 Delorme, 1960; Ginouv`es, 1962. 8 See Delorme, 1960 for summaries of known and conjectured gymnasia; Ginouv`es, 1959, on the baths at Gortys; Jannoray, 1953, on the gymnasium at Delphi. More recently, see Shear, 1969, and Bouras, 1988 (Athens), C.K. Williams, 1977 (Corinth), Orlandini/Adamesteanu, 1960, (Gela), Allen, 1974 (Morgantina), Johannowsky, 1982 (Velia), Villard/Auberson, 1983 (Megara Hyblaia), and Themelis, 1990 (Messene) on examples of Greek baths; and Audiat, 1974 (Delos), Martini, 1984 (Samos), D. Lazaridis, 1982, 1983, K.D. Lazaridis, 1985–9 (Amphipolis), and Themelis, 1992, 1995 on gymnasia. 9 Schneider, 1942. 10 Delorme, 1986, Yaras¸, 1997, Wacker, 1996. 11 See, for example, below, 124–5, on the recently excavated gymnasium at Amphipolis, which has added substantially to our general appreciation of Hellenistic gymnasia in smaller towns and cities. The Hellenistic form of the gymnasium being excavated and studied at Messene will no doubt also prove to be a significant addition to the list of such monuments; see the excavation reports on the Greek work at Messene in Themelis, 1992, 1995, 1998. 12 See Schneider, 1942, 2473 and Delorme, 1960, on the early history of gymnastic training. 13 Schneider, 1942, 2473. 14 Delorme, 1960, 19–20, 24–6, 28–9. 15 Ibid., 33. 16 Ibid., 36–7, commenting on Aischines, In Timarch. 9–11, 138, and Demosthenes 24.114. 17 Delorme, 1960, 30. 18 Schneider, 1942; Delorme, 1960, 19–20, 36–49; Travlos, 1971, 42–51 with figs. 54–9, and 345–7 (dates, 42 and 345). 19 Delorme, 1960, 51–2. 20 Her. 6.126. 21 Paus. 6.23.1–7. 22 See below, 127–8. 23 Paus. 6.23.8; Pausanias says that the sanctuary of Artemis was near the gymnasium, on ‘Silence Street,’ which led into the city from the outskirts; the baths were further away, and he does not describe them as near the gymnasium. The tentative identification by Papachatzis of the baths with the ruins between the gymnasium and

24 25 26

27 28 29

30

31 32

33 34 35

the agora (Papachatzis 1979, 395 fig. 358 no. 11, 396 fig. 359 no. 2), or with those just south of the gymnasium (395 fig. 358 no. 10), cannot be correct, since Pausanias says that to reach the baths one had to go past the sanctuary of Artemis near the gymnasium and along Silence Street – evidently toward the outskirts of the city, since Silence Street is distinguished from ‘another street that leads toward the agora.’ Paus. 5.15.8, 6.21.2; Mallwitz, 1972, 278–89 and 299 notes 117–18. Vitr. 5.10, 11; cf. the change in the meaning of theatron and stadion, above, 98, 111, in chapter 5. On Durrbach’s view see Delorme, 1960, 56. Nevertheless, the form and proportions of the columns that are sometimes represented in palaistra scenes on Attic red-figured vases suggest that wooden columns were used in some parts of Athenian palaistrai during the fifth century. For the Platonic texts see Plato, Euthydemos 271a, 272e, and Lysis 203a, 206c–e, 207a. Delorme, 1960, 55–6. Theophr., HistPlant 1.7.1. Delorme, 1960, 56–57; in other words, the gymnasium as a recognizable architectural type is a Hellenistic phenomenon. On the Delphi gymnasium, see below, 122; on the Timoleonteion, built around the heroon of Timoleon in the agora, see Plut., Timol. 39.4 and Corn. Nep., Timol. 5.4; cf. Delorme, 1960, 90 and notes 3–4. Delorme, 1960, 378–80. On the development and use of the peristyle court in various contexts in Classical and Hellenistic architecture, see the more detailed discussion in Lauter, 1986, 132–55. Thompson, 1940, 15–38; cf. S.G. Miller, 1978, 62–3 and fig. 3. S.G. Miller, 1978, 128–31. The Villa of Good Fortune at Olynthos is an unusually fine example (Robinson and Graham, 1938, pl. 85.2; cf. Lawrence, 1983, 320 fig. 313). Although this building was probably built fairly late in the history of Olynthos, there is no reason to doubt that at least a few of the more luxurious houses of the later fifth century at this site, and even more in Athens, had peristyle courts, even if such a feature was still the exception rather than the rule; cf. Travlos, 1971, 392.

Notes to pages 119–23 36 Gjerstad, 1932, 1937, 1948; Lawrence, 1983, 316; Mlynarczyk, 1992, 198–9 and fig. 6. 37 The-late-fifth-century date, supported, for example, by S.G. Miller, 1973, 9–18, is rejected by Coulton, 1976, 103–4, 217 (location in sanctuary, 216 fig. 49.3); Coulton prefers the Archaic date originally suggested for the building. 38 Keil/Wilhelm, 1931, 47, 50; Coulton, 1976, 265. 39 Priene, 1904, 137–9; Coulton, 1976, 279. 40 E.g., the courts in the temple of Amun, Mut, and Khons at Luxor, in the temple of Rameses II at Abydos, and in the Ramesside temple at Medinet Habu; Woldering, 1963, 155 fig. 39, 188 fig. 57, and 191 fig. 59. 41 Paus. 6.23.1; cf. above, 117. 42 On Alexandria, see Strabo 17.795; on Nikaia, Strabo 12.466; on Pergamon and Miletos, below, 125–7. 43 Strabo 12.566. 44 Paus. 1.17.2. H. von Hesberg (1995) has noted an increasing tendency in Hellenistic times to locate new gymnasia inside the city, often near the city centre; however, as noted below, 130, only a few large Hellenistic cities could afford to sacrifice space within the walls for open and covered practice tracks in addition to the paslaistra. The space problem could sometimes be solved by placing the palaistra and a stadium just inside, and parallel to, the city wall, as was done at Miletos and in the Lower Gymnasium at Priene (below, 125, 123); but many intra-urban establishments consisted only of a palaistra. 45 The gymnasium-palaistra complex at Olympia probably gives some idea of the form of the Alexandrian building (figs. 297a–300, and above, 117–18); on the continuing importance of the gymnasium at Alexandria, and discussion of the Alexandrian gymnasium in relation to other examples, see Burkhalter, 1992, with illustrations of the Hellenistic and Roman phases of the gymnasium at Cyrene (the Hellenistic phase is dated to the middle or second half of the second century; Stucchi, 1975, 124ff.). On xystos and paradromides see below, 121, 127. 46 On the Academy, see Travlos, 1971, 42–3; on the Timoleonteion, see above, 126–7; on Pergamon, see below, 126–7. 47 Cf. Delorme, 1960, 59–60, on the existence of

48

49 50 51

52

53 54 55 56 57 58

59

60

61 62 63 64

65

66

305

smaller, in some cases private, palaistrai in fifthcentury Athens. Wacker, 1996, 192–3, suggests that the ‘Granite Palaistra’ was more probably a banquet hall or a market-building. See below, 127–8. Vitr. 6.Praef.1. Delorme, 1960, 318; on various lecturers in the gymnasium at Delphi, see Jannoray, 1953, 85 and note 4. For recent discussion of the Olympia complex and the gymnasia at Amphipolis, Delos, Eretria, and Sikyon, see Wacker, 1996. Delorme, l960, 308–18. For a detailed description, see Jannoray, 1953. Ibid., 64–75, 77–8. Vitr. 5.11.2; Delorme, 1960, 80, contra Jannoray, 1953, 77–8. Jannoray, 1953, 88, referring to the inscription of 247–242 BC published in BCH 23 (1889) 566. Conisterium, Vitr. 5.11.2. On the meaning and functions of sphairisteria at Delphi and elsewhere, see Delorme, 1960, 283–6; Delorme’s interpretation is contested by Roux, 1980, who suggests that sphairisteria were actually large open-air areas designed for ball games; for Delorme’s reply, maintaining his boxing-ring interpretation, see Delorme, 1982. See Jannoray, 1953, 87, for part of the inscription of 327/6 BC referring to the construction of a waterline into the gymnasium at Delphi; cf. Delorme, 1960, 76–7 and, on water in gymnasia generally, 446–7. Paus. 2.10.6. Description in Delorme, 1960, 99–102, with references to earlier literature. More recent discussion in Wacker, 1996. Paus. 2.7.1. Glaser, 1983, 49–54 and pls. 94–102. See Delorme, 1960, 95–9 (with earlier literature) for a description. The term strouktorion is evidently derived from the Latin structor, meaning a slave who sets the table, prepares food, or waits at the table; the Greek form occurs in the inscription SIG 823 C4. See below, 158, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture,’ on Vitruvius’s remarks about the palace of Mausollos, Vitr. 2.8.10. Schede, 1964, 81–9; on Amphipolis, see below, 124–5.

306

Notes to pages 124–7

67 Wacker, 1996, 141–4, who notes that the earliest coins go back to Philip II. 68 Excavation reports by Dimitris Lazaridis 1982, 1983, and Kalliope D. Lazaridis, 1985–9. Measures to preserve the remains of the gymnasium are described in K.D. Lazaridis, 1996. 69 Kalliope D. Lazaridis, Praktika (1986) 134–5. The following account deals only with the original Hellenistic structure. 70 Kalliope D. Lazaridis, 1995, pl. 94a. 71 Vitr. 5.ll.2; my suggestion for the function of these rooms is tentative. 72 For photographs of surviving column-drums, see Lazaridis, Ergon (1989) 83–4 figs. 78 and 80–1. 73 Lazaridis, Praktika (1989) 205–12. The -plan of the aphesis ensured that each of the three contestants in a diaulos had the same distance to run. For a different solution to the problem of turns and lanes see Miller, 1980b. 74 For a general plan and views, and restored drawings of the colonnades, see Juko Ito, 2002b, 88 figs. 1–4, 89 figs. 1–2, 94 figs. 4–6, and 112 fig. 3; for the stadium, see ibid., 109 figs. 1–2 and 112 figs. 4–5. 75 Themelis, 1992, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998; Juko Ito, 2002b, 1, 57–63. 76 For a general plan of the theatre/Asklepieion/ gymnasium area of Messene, see Juko Ito, 2002b, viii; for an aerial photograph of the gymnasiumstadium complex, see ibid., 179 pl.1. 77 On the gymnasia at Miletos see Kleiner, 1968, 89–92, with earlier literature 156 no. 8.a–b, and Delorme, 1960, 126–33; Delorme doubts the existence of a Hellenistic phase in the palaistra beside the stadium. 78 Kleiner, 1968, 89–91; Delorme, 1960, 132–3, prefers to associate with the Pergamene king the palaistra S of the Delphinion (see below). 79 Kleiner, 1968, 91–2; as mentioned above (note 78), Delorme thinks that this is the building that should be associated with Eumenes II. 80 See below, 160, 164, 173–4, in chapter 8, on the Rhodian peristyles of Vitr. 6.7.3. 81 Hellenistic Corinthian is better represented in Miletos (this building, the propylon of the Council House [see below, 146–7], and the Laodike Building) than in any other city of western Asia Minor. This situation was probably the result of Seleukid gifts over several generations (the Laodike Build-

82 83 84

85 86 87

88

89 90 91 92

93

94

ing and the Council House; probably also the use of Corinthian in the temple at Didyma). Kleiner, 1968, 93–109, for earlier literature, 156–7 no. 8.c–f. Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 99–104, 145–8. Wacker, 1996, 209–10, however, suggests the second half of the fourth century, with the ‘tholos’ added ca. 200. Auberson and Schefold do not suggest these identifications, but they seem to me plausible. Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 102. Ibid., 101; this suggestion may be correct, but has no real supporting evidence, and has not won wide acceptance; see the discussion of hypocausts in Nielsen, 1990, 14–22. Assuming that the earlier foundations in the NW, E, and SE sectors of the later courtyard (Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 145–6) were all for outer walls. Ibid., 146–7. Schazmann, 1923. See above, 18, in chapter 1. Paus. 5.15.8, 6.21.2; see Mallwitz, 1972, 278–89 and 299 notes 113–19 for earlier literature; note the brief account in Schneider, 1942, 2478–81, with restored plan, including the lodgings for the athletes, 2477–8; the complex is reviewed in detail in Wacker, 1996, especially 14–52. See Mallwitz, 1972, 284–5 on the construction of the xystos stoa; for the cuttings see E. Curtius, F. Adler, Olympia: Ergebnisse, Textband 2, 127ff., Tafelband 2, pl. lxxviii; and summary in Frazer, Pausanias 4: 87. This must be Pausanias’s meaning, rather than Frazer’s ‘the eastern colonnade of the gymnasium.’ Frazer (Pausanias 4: 90) follows the view that the athletes’ lodgings ran in a NW–SE row, with the NW end abutting on the back of the E colonnade. If the lodgings actually backed on to the W colonnade, the fact that they faced SW indicates that the W colonnade of the gymnasium was more or less parallel to the extant E colonnade (as in the plan in Schneider, 1942, note 92 above); the orientation of these colonnades was perhaps influenced by the ancient course of the Kladeos. For another interpretation see Delorme, 1960, 106– 7. The plan in Wacker (1996) shows the athletes’ lodgings opening off the W colonnade of the gymnasium area, i.e., facing E, as do also the

Notes to pages 128–32

95

96

97

98 99

100 101

102

103

104 105

plans in Papachatzis 1979, 239 fig. 220, and 75 fig. 341; but it seems to me that the Greek text of Pausanias will not bear this interpretation. Wacker, 1996, 23–40, dates the palaistra in the first half of the third century; Mallwitz, 1972, 286–9 and fig. 237, notes the relationship of the Corinthian propylon to the North Propylaia at Epidauros, and suggests a date at the end of the second century. Stylistically, even an early-firstcentury date seems possible for the propylon; Roman influence, and actual Roman participation, cannot be excluded; Wacker, 1996, 47–52, suggests a date in the first half of the first century. There must have been some sort of provision for practice in track and field events in earlier centuries, but no remains are known; cf. Schneider, 1942, 2481, and below, 128. See the plan in Mallwitz, 1972, 279 fig. 231, with Frazer, Pausanias 4: 88–9, and Delorme, 1960, 102– 3; for a restored elevation of the Doric propylon, see Mallwitz, 1972, 281 fig. 234; on the athletes’ lodgings, see above, 127 and note 94. Schneider, 1942, 2479; on ball games and jumping see Delorme, 1960, 292–6. See Delorme, 1960, 294 on jumping practice at Olympia; and E. Fedde, Der Funfkampf der ¨ Hellenen (Breslau 1888) 13ff., cited by Frazer, Pausanias 4: 90. Paus. 10.4.1. Reports on Ai Khanum: Bernard, 1967, 1969, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1978, 1980; summaries: briefly in Walbank, 1981, 60–2, and Lauter, 1986, 282– 4; see L. Robert, 1968, on two inscriptions from the gymnasium, one with the names Klearchos, Kineas, Straton, and Triballos, the other with the Delphic precepts. Cf. 60–1, 26, 30–1, on the modifications that occurred in the form of some Seleukid stoas and in Syrian temples. Vitr. 5.11.2; see also the brief discussion in Schneider, 1942, 2482–3. Delorme (1960) concentrates on the meaning of Vitruvius’s names for the rooms and the distribution of these rooms along the north side of the courtyard of the Vitruvian palaestra. Delorme, 1960, 494–7. Witness the many luxury features of the Thalamegos of Ptolemy IV and of the great ship of Hiero II of Syracuse, in the accounts

106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114

115 116

117

307

quoted by Athenaeus (Deipn. 204e–206c, 207c–f; 207e mentions a bathing room, 208a a large water tank on Hiero’s ship). On the development of the baths at Olympia, see below, 133. See also above 126, on the Upper Gymnasium at Eretria. Fig. 301, by A. Birnbaum, is taken from Delorme, 1960, pl. XLI fig. 67. Vitr. 5.11.1. Vitr. 5.11.3–4. See above, note 30. Delorme, 1960, 227–30, 436–8. Paus. 7.3.5; 7.5.10; 4.35.9–11; 2.34.1; 8.41.4; 10.11.4, 4.35.10. E.g., the warm baths of Hierapolis in Phrygia. There was a sweat-bath in the fifth-century palace at Vouni on Cyprus (Lawrence 1983, 349; Gjerstad, 1932, 147, and 1937, 125–6, 130–2, and 213); and baths dated to the fifth century BC have been found at Athens (see Shear, 1969 and Bouras, 1988). See Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 101–2, for Eretria; and for Pompeii, A. Maiuri, 1949, 31. See above, note 87. Auberson/Schefold say that the hypocaust proposed by R. Ginouv`es must have been earlier than the construction of the oval hot room; it seems unlikely, however, even if there was such a feature, that it could have been built as part of Phase II of the Upper Gymnasium (early [?] fourth century, according to the Swiss), to say nothing of Phase I. All that can be said with certainty is that such a feature would have to be earlier than Phase III (post-198 BC). Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 87, 89. ‘Palast I and II’ ´ of Auberson/Schefold are also cited as ‘Edifice

I, II, IV’ and ‘Haus 1, 2, 4’; e.g., the latter titles are used by Krause (‘Das griechische Pastashaus,’ ArchAnz [1977] 164–79). 118 Themelis, 1989, 1990, 1995, 1996; dated by the excavator to the mid-second century. The location of the bath close to the Asklepieion recalls the situation at Gortys in Arkadia; however, the bath is also close to the complex identified as a gymnasium and stadium. The absence of a hypocaust may perhaps be explained by the milder climate of lowland Messenia compared with even the lower-lying parts of Arkadia. 119 See Johannowsky, 1982, 235–6, on the manufacture and export of fired bricks at Velia;

308

120

121 122

123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131

132 133 134 135 136 137 138

Notes to pages 132–7

on the tiles used in the hypocaust at Gela, see Orlandini/Adamesteanu, 1960, 181–211. Phase I of the Centaur Bath at Corinth must have been among the earliest examples (last quarter of fifth century to the 320s); see C.K. Williams, 1977, 49. Corinth: see preceding note; on Olympia, see below, 133. Dipylon: ArchAnz (l936) 208–12, (1937) 181–95, (1938) 610, 614, (1940) 318–33; Athenian agora: Shear, 1969, 394–400; Gela: Orlandini/Adamesteanu, 1960; Velia: Johannowsky, 1982, 243–6 with figs. 3, 5. Oiniadai: Sears, 1904. See above, 126 and notes 86 and 87. Ginouv`es, 1959, for Gortys; for Olympia see below, 133 and note 129. The restored plan, fig. 302a, is taken from Ginouv`es, 1959, 165 fig. 187. See ibid., 56–77 and figs. 74–101 for the heating system, and 36–43 and figs. 46–53 for Room G. Ginouv`es, 1959, 25–33 and figs. 38–40, 68–9 figs. 90–2. Mallwitz, 1972, 270. Ibid.; on Delphi, see above, 122. Mallwitz, above, note 129; Ginouv`es, 1962, 204–9. The tendency to see Italic influence in these Hellenistic baths stems largely from the traditional view that the hypocaust system of heating was an Italic invention, probably of C. Sergius Orata in the early first century BC (based perhaps on earlier and simpler Italic experiments); but see Fagan, 1996, cited in note 136 below. Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 101. Johannowsky, 1982, 235–6. Nielsen, 1985, 81–112. On Sergius Orata and pensiles balineae, see Pliny, NH 9.168. DeLaine, 1988, 11–32 and 1989, 111–25. Johannowsky, 1976, 271–2; Fagan, 1996, 56–66. Frontinus, De Aquis Urbis Romae 1.16. Ginouv`es, 1962, 180 and note 8; in note 10 Ginouv`es suggests that the excavators’ date, at the end of the first century AD, may be rather too late.

2 3

4 5

6

7 8

9 10 11

12 13

Chapter 7 1 Council-houses at Herakleia-under-Latmos (ca. 345 m2), Assos (ca. 420 m2), Miletos (ca. 900 m2), and

14

Alabanda (ca. 935 m2); the Hypostyle Hall on Delos (ca. 1930 m2); the Arsenal of Philo at Peiraieus (ca. 2375 m2); the Thersilion at Megalopolis (ca. 3490 m2); and the Odeion of Perikles at Athens (ca. 4285 m 2). See chapter 9, ‘The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily.’ For the history of the sanctuary from Archaic times to the fourth century, see Mylonas, 1961, 77–154; for comparative plans of the Telesterion at different periods, see ibid., figs. 6, 26, and 27, and Dinsmoor, 1950, 195–6 and fig. 73. Mylonas, 1961, fig. 26D. Cooper, 1996, 374–6. Vitruvius (7.Praef.16) says that Iktinos designed the building Dorico more sine exterioribus columnis; if the interior columns were Ionic, Dorico more must indicate that the walls, like those of the arsenal of Philo in the following century (see below, 150–1) were crowned by a Doric entablature. See Dinsmoor’s discussion, 1950, 195–6. The demands of symmetry suggest that such a lantern would have been supported by three columns NE to SW and two NW to SE. See, for example, Jeppesen, 1957, 103–49. Paus. 1.22.4; on the experimental and inventive character of Classical Athenian architecture, see Winter, 1980, 151–61. See below, 146–7 and note 59. See Travlos, 1971, 387–91. Gardner, 1892; Benson, 1893, 319–27. On the name, see Paus. 8.32.1. It is unclear whether the name commemorates the donor, the architect, or simply the League official presiding at the ceremony of dedication; cf. above, 92–3, in chapter 4, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments,’ on the similar uncertainty with respect to Sostratos of Knidos and the Pharos at Alexandria. Paus. 8.27.16, 33.1; 8.32.1. Vitr. 5.36. On the Small Theatre at Pompeii see Boethius, 1978, 171; on the Odeon of Agrippa in the Athenian agora, see Agora 14, 111–14 and pls. 58–60. For a discussion of ancient ‘roofed theatres’ from an engineering point of view, see Izenour, 1992, esp. the graphic illustration of the evolution of truss-work, fig. A.1; for his restorations of the roofing of the Pompeian and Athenian buildings see ibid., 72 fig. 2.1 c–d, and 88–9 fig. 2.4 c–f. For the structure at Messene see Orlandos, 1975, 9–23, esp. 17 fig. 11A (plan), 10 fig. 1, 11 fig. 14,

Notes to pages 137–46

15 16 17 18 19

20 21

22

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

32 33 34 35

16 fig. 10, and 18 fig. 12. The model made under Orlandos’s supervision, Papachatzis, 1979, 117 fig. 43A, and 118 fig. 44, shows it as open to the sky. On the long roof spans of the Hieron at Samothrace, see above, 76 and note 35, in chapter 4. Coulton, 1976, 3, 5. See above, 54–5, 60–1, in chapter 3, ‘Stoas in Later Greek Architecture,’ for these examples. Broneer, 1954, 72–5, and Coulton, 1976, 57 and 90. See Mylonas, 1961, and Dinsmoor, 1950, cited in note 3 above; for the appearance of the presumed clerestory at Eleusis, see the model in Papachatzis, 1976, 476–7 figs. 293–4. Dinsmoor, 1950, 234–6. Philippeion: Kunze, 1959, 295–7 and fig. 55; for a detailed account of the Tholos at Epidauros, see Roux, 1961, 131–84; on the roof of the Tholos at Delphi, see above, 72–3 and note 15. See the discussion of the theatre-Thersilion complex above, 100–1, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ Kratinos ap. Plut., Per. 13. Plut., Per. 13. See Papachatzis, 1976, 476–7 figs. 293–4. Vitr. 5.1.6–10. Kallixeinos: Athenaeus, Deipn. 205a–3; cf. Winter/Christie, 1985, 289–308. Vitr. 6.5.2; on the Palazzo delle Colonne, see below, 177–8, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture.’ Vitr. 3.2; see McDonald, 1943. Kockel, 1995. See below, 142–3 and note 35, on the history of this building and on the different interpretations of its functions in different periods. See below, 150–1. McDonald, 1943, 179–81; Welter, 1941, 51. On the Mantineian building, see Winter, 1987. Thompson, 1937, 115–40 (Old Bouleuterion), 140– 72 (New Bouleuterion), and Agora XIV 29–38. It seems strange that the ‘New Bouleuterion’ should be so much smaller than its predecessor. It is in fact possible that the new building was originally built to house the city archives, and never became a bouleuterion until the Hellenistic Metroon was constructed to take the place of the rebuilt Old Bouleuterion. In that event, the curved stone seats of the New Bouleuterion, of which a few meagre remains were found, must

36 37

38 39 40 41

42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

309

have belonged to a remodelling of the second century that changed the archive-building into a bouleuterion, while the archives were moved to the new Metroon complex. Such an interpretation agrees with the available evidence just as well as that of the excavators, and would also be in harmony with our view that council-houses of the type found at Miletos were first developed by Seleukid architects; the Milesian structure, the earliest datable extant example, could then have served as the prototype for remodelling the building at Athens. I am indebted to Dr Judith Binder for the opportunity of discussing on the site some of the problems associated with the Hellenistic bouleuterion at Athens; she is not, however, responsible for any erroneous conclusions that I may have drawn from our discussions. Thompson, 1937, 158–60. See above, note 35. Of course, the building could have become a bouleuterion in early Hellenistic times, but still have had no stone seats until the middle or third quarter of the second century. Vitr. 7.Praef.15. McDonald, 1943, 196–8 (Lousoi), 187–9 (Eleusis). Troy: Ibid., 248–9, and cf. Akurgal, 1973, 62. See below, 191–2, 201–3, on possible Roman associations with the Milesian council-house, and on Italo-Hellenistic architecture. E.g., in Dinsmoor, 1950, 295–6. Krischen, 1941b, 13–14, and cf. pls. 14, 15, and 18– 19, with 16, 17, and 20. Krischen, 1922; also Winter, 1997, 276–7, and McNicoll, 1997, 77–81 (with recent bibliography). Krischen, 1941b, 22–3; unfortunately, Krischen’s book was not available to McDonald. Akurgal, 1973, 240. Cf. Krischen, 1941b, pl. 26. Ibid., pl. 28. Ibid., pls. 29 and 33. Cf. Dinsmoor, 1950, 243–4. Paus. 2.7.1. Schuchhardt, 1886, 422–4; McDonald, 1943, 217– 19; Dinsmoor, 50, 296. Krischen, 1941b, pls. 25.6, and 21–2 (Assos); McDonald, 1943, 168–70 (Thermon). On the existence at Athens of this type of barrier, see Agora XIV 33–4.

310

Notes to pages 146–52

55 Knackfuss, 1908; Krischen, 1941b, pls. 1–11 and 25.1; Dinsmoor, 1950, 296–7. 56 Dinsmoor, 1950, 296. 57 For the long spans of Roman halls see below, 191–2, 203, in chapter 9. 58 Nysa: Akurgal, 1973, pl. 59b; Bean, 1971, 215– 16; von Diest, 1913. Apollonia: McDonald, 1943, 167–8. 59 See Klein, 1998. It is important to remember that the advantages of long-span ceilings cannot be fully realized simply by firm attachment of rafters to ridge-beam and to the ends of the horizontal crossbeams. Over a period of time, wooden crossbeams with an excessive free span will begin to sag; this deformation is more marked the further the beams are from the end walls of the room or building, and the roof ridge will be pulled downward into a ‘swayback’ line. The present writer has had actual experience of this phenomenon in the main room of an old log building. An attempt had been made to halt the deformation by means of a steel rod joining the middle crossbeam of the series to the roof ridge, but this solution proved only partly successful. In restoring the log building, the builder used sturdier rods, one in every other crossbeam; in this way a series of simple king-post trusses was created, and these seem to have solved the problem. The really significant Greek advance in the field of truss-work was the discovery of the value of such vertical posts between the ridge-beam and the middle of the span of the crossbeams; once this principle had been understood, further advances in the design of roof trusses were simply elaborations of the basic design. T. Hodge believed that the king post and its elaborations had already been used at Selinus in the sixth century (see Hodge, 1960, 21– 4, on trusses in the Gaggera temple at Selinus, and 38–44 for general discussion of trusses; cf. Klein, 1998, 350 fig. 10, reproducing Hodge, 23 fig. 8); yet it seems clear that the potential of such trusses for the construction of long-span ceilings was not appreciated before the Hellenistic age. Indeed J.J. Coulton thinks that the principle of the truss was never fully understood anywhere in the Greek world; he believes that the long spans achieved by earlier Sicilian builders and by the designer of the Arsinoeion on Samothrace were due to

60

61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

72

73 74 75

the availability of higher-quality timber (Coulton, 1977, 157–8). See a detailed discussion of ancient roofed halls and truss-work in Izenour, 1992. Termessos: Krischen, 1941b, 16–18 and pls. 24 and 25.4; Akurgal, 1973, 327 and pl. 95a. Alabanda: Bean, 1971, 186–7, fig. 28 and pl. 44; Akurgal, 1973, 243 and pl. 75a; H.Lauter, IstMitt (1971). See the general plan of the site in Akurgal, 1973, 243 fig. 92. No. 2 on the general plan of the site; see Akurgal, 1973, 326 fig. 161. See Lauter, 1971, on the wall ornament. It seems likely that multiple usage was intended in many examples of the odeion-bouleuterion type of building; see Kockel, 1995. On early stoas see above, 51–2; on Samothrace, see Lehmann, 1962. Paus. 1.1.4; Dem. 34.918; Schol. ad Aristoph., Ach. 548. Travlos, 1971, 196–7. Vitr. 5.12.7, 6.6.4. Blum/Plassart, 1914, 73–4. McDonald, 1943, 236–8. See below, 154, and Winter, 1987. The inscription has been intensively studied since its discovery in 1882, but it was only in 1988 that actual remains of the arsenal came to light (see note 76 below). See Dinsmoor, 1950, 241–2; Pollitt, 1965, 186–8; and Jeppesen, 1957, 69–101. Further discussion of details of the design is found in Untermann, 1984. On the discovery of the building’s remains in 1988, see von Eickstedt, 1991, 78–9, and Steinhauer, 1996. For the text and translation of the inscription, and detailed discussion of the building’s dimensions, see de Waele, 1993 (with literature to 1991). In my translations of the arsenal inscription and of the passages from Philo, words in square brackets are to be understood as explanatory comments of my own, while words in angle brackets are supplied in order to make the meaning of the Greek text, at least as I understand it, more readily apparent. This figure is probably an error for either 15 or 13 1/2 feet; see Jeppesen, 1957, 80. Philo 86.39–87.50. The four penultimate sentences of the description are an admirably clear account of the construction of a corbel arch closed by a keystone, as in the chamber of the Lion Tomb at Knidos (above,

Notes to pages 152–8

76

77 78 79 80 81

82 83 84

85 86 87

88 89 90 91

92

81, in chapter 4, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments’). The Peiraeus arsenal has long been studied only on the basis of the detailed account in the building inscription; the discovery of remains of a short section of the building in 1988 (Chronique, 1989, 589 and note 72 above) has clarified some of the problems of interpreting the inscription, but uncertainties still remain. Jeppesen, 1957, 91. Ibid., 101. Cic. de Orat. 1.14.62; Vitr. 7.Praef.12. Jeppesen, 1957, 74 fig. 58F. These later granaries have basements constructed in much the same manner as the Hellenistic arsenals at Pergamon, described below. See von Szalay/Boehringer, 1937, for dates and reconstructions. Cf. Dinsmoor, 1950, 290. See Agora XIV, 80–1; Pounder, 1980, 227; Camp, 1986, 167 and fig. 151 no. 2. Martin, 1959; Guide de Thasos, 1968, 24–36, esp. 30, with fig. 6 following 24; cf. BCH 79 (1955) 345–8, 80 (1956) 413. See above, 57, 59, in chapter 3, ‘Stoas in Later Greek Architecture,’ and 150 in this chapter. Knackfuss, 1924, 156–77; Busing, 1970, 25 and ¨ fig. 37. Cf. above, 89, in chapter 4; on the Ptolemaion see above, 43, in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways.’ It seems likely that the earliest examples of Macedonian vaulted tombs predate the accession of Alexander in 336; but the subsequent burgeoning of arch-andvault construction all over the Greek world owed a good deal to first-hand experience gained during Alexander’s campaigns; cf. Boyd, 1978. Philo 84.31–3; cf. Diels/Schramm, Philo 34 fig. 16. See below, 199, in chapter 9. Nash, 1962, 238–40 figs. 985–9. On the date see Richardson, 1976, 57–64. See Boethius, 1978, 168–9 figs. 158–9, on Praeneste; for a restoration of the sanctuary of Asklepios on Kos see Lawrence, 1983, 277 fig. 254. Boethius, 1978, 166–9 with fig. 157; 176–8 and figs. 166, 168.

Chapter 8 1 The remains of houses uncovered during the excavations at Olynthos still represent the

2 3

4 5 6 7

8

9

10

11 12

311

largest single body of evidence dating from the Classical period (late fifth century to the sack of Olynthos in 348 BC); on these houses, see esp. Robinson/Graham, 1938, and Robinson, 1946 and 1940. Dem. III.25–7. On the sale price of Olynthos houses, see Robinson, 1940, 253; on the estate of Demosthenes’ father, Dem. XVIII; see also Lysias 19.29. On the ‘market’ in Classical Athens, see Nevett, 2000. See inter alia Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990 and 1994 for discussion of Classical houses. Buruncuk: Boehlau/Schefold, 1940; Vouni: Gjerstad, 1937, 111–290, and 1948, 25–9. Vitr. 2.8.10. No doubt Vitruvius’s account was taken from some earlier writer, since there is no reason to believe that the palace was still standing in the late first century BC. Presumably the Prokonnesian marble was used for door and window frames, and for columns where these were employed; the effect of the polished stucco was doubtless due to the use of marble dust in the stucco mixture. On the development of larger private houses in Late Classical and early Hellenistic times, see Walter-Karydi, 1992. Trumper, 1998. After listing the descriptive terms ¨ used in her analysis, Trumper discusses the various ¨ elements that make up the overall design of the houses and the way that each element fits into the whole. Her text ends with a review of the problems in precisely dating many Delian houses, followed by a short set of conclusions; the latter are summarized in English and French. The basis of all her discussions is the detailed descriptive catalogue of a total of 91 houses; the catalogue is illustrated by a total of 94 plans (with 10 plans from Monte Iato and Morgantina in Sicily used for comparison at various points in the main text) and 91 photographs, and the literature for each Delian house is given at the end of the descriptive analysis. Cf. in this connection the series of plans collected in Pinkwart/Stamnitz, 1984, 39 fig. 16. E.g., in the remodelling of House 33 at Priene and in some of the late Hellenistic houses of Delos; see the preceding note and below, 170, 171–2, and 173.

312

Notes to pages 158–62

13 Both at Olynthos and at Priene, we find examples of houses being enlarged through acquisition of part of an adjoining lot; presumably one owner had become more prosperous, while his neighbour could perhaps no longer afford to retain all the original property. 14 Vitr. 6.3–5. 15 Vitr. 6.3.4–5. 16 Vitr. 6.5.2. 17 Perhaps the basilican ‘Egyptian oeci ’ of Vitr. 6.3.9? 18 About the same as, or even more than, the area of the block occupied by the House of the Faun at Pompeii, which included a garden peristyle. 19 De Legg. 2.1. 20 Varro, R.R. 3.5.8–17. 21 Vitr. 6.5.3. 22 On the plan and mixture of Italic and Hellenistic elements in the design of the Casa del Fauno, see Hoffmann, 1992, 258–9 and fig. 1; for the Palazzo delle Colonne, see the plan in Lyttelton, 1974, 54 fig. 13, and the axonometric restoration in WardPerkins, 1970, 463 fig. 172. The basic work on the latter building is still Pesce, 1950. For comparative plans of the Villa di Diomede and the Villa dei Misteri, see Grant, 1971, 134–5 figs. 12–13. 23 Grant, 1971, 137 fig. 14; Deiss, 1985, 60–82. 24 E.g., the banquets in garden settings in the Tombe della Nave and dei Leopardi at Tarquinia. 25 Lyttelton, 1974, 53–60, discusses the date at some length, and regards the Palazzo as a latefirst-century BC structure with extensive later modifications; Ward-Perkins, 1970, 462, gives a first-century AD date. Both writers, however, recognize the Alexandrian-Hellenistic inspiration of the building. 26 As Vitruvius (6.7.1) recognized. 27 Pella city mansions: plan, PapakonstandinouDhiamandourou, 1971, pl. 30 right; aerial photograph, Petsas, 1978, 116. Acropolis palace: Siganidou, 1987 and 1989; Chrysostomou, 1988; Misaelidou-Despotidou, 1988 and 1989; also Nielsen, 1994, 88–93, with general plan on 89 fig. 45 and plan of Peristyle I on 90 fig. 46. In its final form the Pella complex may have covered an area in excess of 60,000 m2; this figure is more than twice the area of the Flavian palace on the Palatine at Rome. The palace at Pella was doubtless at least started as early as the reign of Philip II; however, modifications and additions

28 29

30 31 32 33

34

35

36 37 38

evidently continued down to the time of Philip V, in the early second century. Suggested dates for the Vergina palace range from Philip II to Antigonos Gonatas; if it postdates Alexander the Great, the reign of Antigonos Gonatas, with its reestablishment of a stable Macedonian monarchy, seems most likely. While the earliest palaces (of the later fourth century) included many features of obvious Greek derivation, the designers must also have drawn a good deal on the traditions of palace architecture of Egypt and the Near East, especially in regions well to the east of the Mediterranean. The debt of Greek palaces to Oriental models is analysed in Nielsen, 1992. Vitr. 6.7. See the lengthy discussion in Raeder, 1988. Raeder reproduces A. Birnbaum’s 1914 reconstruction of the ‘Greek house’ of Vitruvius (318 fig. 1) and A. Koster’s 1934 plans of the upper and lower decks of the river-barge of Ptolemy IV Philopator (364 fig. 10), discussed elsewhere in this chapter. He concludes (362–8) that in his account of the ‘Greek house’ Vitruvius was copying accounts of Hellenistic palaces. Vitr. 6.7.3. Vitr. 6.3.10. Vitr. 6.7.4. Pouilloux, 1960. It remains uncertain whether the area enclosed by the columns was roofed over or an open court. S.G. Miller, 1973, 9–18, and 1978, 226; Coulton, 1976, 103–4, 217. Miller favoured the later date; Coulton views the arguments for this date, and against a date in the sixth century, as unconvincing. Walter-Karydi, 1992, 57–8, notes that from the description in Plato, Protag. 314d–315e, the house of the wealthy Kallias clearly had a peristyle court; however, the existence of stone rather than wooden columns is conjectural. Paus. 6.24.2. See above, 118–19, 123, in chapter 6, ‘Gymnasia, Palaistrai and Baths.’ Eretria: Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 75–90 (Palast I); plan of Palast II on 92 fig. 16, and more recently and in detail, Ducrey/Metzger/Reber, 1993; Pergamon: Akurgal, 1973, 75 fig. 25; Kalydon: Lawrence, 1983, 285 fig. 263; Delos: Guide de D´elos, 114–16 with fig. 20; Priene: Akurgal, 1973, 186 fig. 67 no. 21, 205–6.

Notes to pages 162–5 39 See below, 162–3, 163–6, and 172, for discussion of these buildings. 40 Tolle, 1969, 61–3 and 58–9 figs. 29–30; Tolle¨ ¨ Kastenbein, 1974, 13–49. 41 Pinkwart/Stamnitz, 1984, 38 fig. 15a–b. Detailed account in Kawerau/Wiegand, 1930, summarized in Griffin-Kutbay, 1991, 12–38, with plans pls. 3 and 4. 42 The ruins of the Pella palace were extensively plundered to provide building material for the Augustan colony of Pella, located ca. 1.5 km W of Hellenistic Pella; see Chrysostomou, 1988, 120. The palace is discussed from various points of view in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992; see especially the contributions of Hoepfner, 1992, Brands, 1992, Pfrommer, 1992, and Siganidou, 1992. 43 See below, 165. 44 These two houses at Pella, and their mosaics, are published in detail in Makaronas/Giouri, 1989. 45 Chrysostomou, 1988, 120. 46 See Nielsen, 1994, 91, on Pella; there is, however, no concrete evidence for the existence of gardens. For a general discussion of gardens in the residences of Hellenistic rulers, see Sonne, 1992, and on Greek domestic gardens in general, see the detailed survey in Carroll-Spielecke, 1989. 47 See Marzolff/Milojcic/Theochares, 1976; Marzolff, 1979, 129–44; and Marzolff, 1992, 149–50 figs. 1 (plan of the city), 2 (plan of the palace area), and 3 (plan of the palace). Summary in Nielsen, 1994, 93–6; discussion of main courtyard in GriffinKutbay, 1991, 58–73 with plan, pl. 6. 48 Siganidou, 1987, 120 plan 1. 49 See discussion below, 165–6. 50 Greek archaeologists have assigned progressively earlier dates to the Vergina palace; Andronikos, 1984, 39, opts for a late-fourth-century date rather than the time of Antigonos Gonatas, which he once favoured, and Nielsen, 1994, 81 and notes 179–80, gives the date suggested by Pandermalis (AMETOS II [Thessalonike 1987] 579–605), that is, second half of the fourth century, and before the reign of Alexander. 51 Andronikos, 1984, 39, 40–1 fig. 16; a plan of the main part the palace is on 43 fig. 17. The columndrums lying below the palace terrace in the lower left foreground of fig. 16 could have belonged to the colonnade at courtyard level shown along the N side of the palace on the plan, fig. 17.

52 53 54 55 56 57 58

59 60

61

62

63 64 65

313

Others, however, restore an open terrace with a parapet, as in the illustrations in Hoepfner, 1992, 16 fig. 12, Brands, 1992, 64 fig. 4, and Nielsen, 1994, 83 fig. 42. For a plan of the whole palace, including the west annex with small peristyle, see Griffin-Kutbay, 1991, pl. 5, and Hoepfner, 1992, 8 fig. 5; for an airview, see Andronikos, 1984, 47 fig. 21. In the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Libya; see below, 177–8. Makaronas/Giouri, 1989, colour plates 1–4. See above, 47–9, in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways.’ Something of this effect can be seen in Hoepfner, 1992, 12 fig. 8. Ath. Deipn. 196a. Andronikos, 1984, 44. I note in passing the argument advanced in Winter, 1993, that the ‘roof’ of the great tent of Ptolemy II was supported by a structure involving the basic principle of the truss; Ptolemy II and Antigonos Gonatas were contemporaries. See the restored plan of Pella in Siganidou, 1987, 120. Nielsen, 1994, 90 fig. 46. For reports on the Greek excavations see Siganidou, 1987, 1989, and 1992; Misaelidou-Despotidou, 1988; and Chrysostomou, 1988. If construction of the palace was begun in the second half of the fourth century, the work is more likely to have been that of Philip II, rather than Alexander, who never spent enough time in Macedonia for such an undertaking. There is also evidence of building activity by Kassander, around the turn of the fourth and third centuries, and of further work in the later third century, presumably in the time of Philip V. Still fairly close by at this time; Kirsten/Kraiker, 1962, 595 fig. 159, shows the gradual filling-in of this part of the Thermaic Gulf during the period from about 500 BC to AD 500. See above, 164; a description of the propylon is found in Siganidou, 1989; for a restored plan of the palace see Hoepfner, 1992, 28 fig. 23; and, for comparative plans of the Vergina and Pella entrances, see Brands, 1992, 65 fig. 6.1–2 . Nielsen, 1994, 91. Hoepfner, 1992, 28 fig. 23. On the baths of the Pella palace, and the possible provision of complete palaistra facilities, see Chrysostomou, 1988; for a description and

314

66 67

68 69 70 71 72 73

74

75 76 77

78

79 80

Notes to pages 165–9

interpretation of the ‘hypostyle room,’ see Misaelidou-Despotidou, 1988. Chrysostomou, 1988, 115. A detailed account and interpretation of the extant remains can be found in Tolle-Kastenbein, 1974, ¨ 13–69 (Hellenistic phases 13–49 and plans 1, 3, 4). See Tolle, 1969, 61–2, for date and duration of use. ¨ Cf. below, 167–8, on Peristyle Houses I–III W of the Lower Agora at Pergamon. McKay, 1975, pls. 41–2, 46, and 47–8. See note 41 above. Later exended to 20 × 13.5 m, i.e., not much smaller than the southern peristyle of the palace of Samos. Dorpfeld, 1904, 116–20, and 1907, 167–89. For ¨ comparative plans of Palaces IV and V, the House of Attalos, and Peristyle Houses I–III, see Pinkwart/Stamnitz, 1984, 38 fig. 15, with a comparative table of dimensions, 37. There may have been windows as well as the two doors of the east and west corridors, in the manner of the House of the Mosaic Atrium at Herculaneum (de Franciscis, 1978, 99–100 figs. 139–41). Another possibility is low enclosing walls surmounted by slender columns, no wider than the walls on which they stood, so that the final effect would have been somewhat like the court of the Casa del Albergo at Herculaneum (ibid., 98 fig. 138). A colonnade with balustrades may also have been used in the House of Attalos. See below, 216–18, in chapter 10, ‘Architecture, Landscape, and Seascape.’ On the Peristyle Houses see Pinkwart/Stamnitz, 1984, 1–42; for plans and drawings of Peristyle Houses II and III, 32 fig. 11, 38 fig. 15 d and e, and pl. 51. Peristyle Houses II and III are smaller than the expanded House XXXIII at Priene, but considerably larger than the original House XXXIII, the Villa of Good Fortune at Olynthos, and the House of the Dolphins and House of the Trident on Delos. He attributed the earlier phase, with a singlestoreyed peristyle, to the third century, and the enlargement of the court, and addition of an Ionic upper colonnade, to the earlier second century. Vitr. 6.3.8. Cf. the proportions Vitruvius recommends for the curia, and the actual proportions of the Curia in the Forum Romanum, with the much more

81

82

83 84

85

86 87 88 89 90

modest height of the council-houses at Miletos and Priene. On the clearing, partial reconstruction, and making of detailed plans and drawings of the Qasr el-Abd, see Will/Larch´e, 1991, and the summary of results in Will, 1992. A comparison of the Will/Larch´e illustrations in Will, 1992, with Lauter, 1986, fig. 78, and Butler, 1919, pl. I (facade restored), 9 fig. 5 and pl. II (Corinthian capitals), will show the dramatic changes in interpretation of the monument since Will’s new investigations commenced in 1976. Note especially Will, 1992, 222–4 figs. 1–4, reproduced from Will/Larche´ , 1991, pls. 10, 38, and 36; the new results are summarized in Ginouv`es, 1994, and Nielsen, 1994, 146–51 and figs. 78–80. The first definite reference to basileia at Antioch is in connection with the uprising against Demetrios I in 147 (IMacc 11.45–7; Josephus, AntJ. 13.137); and Downey points out that even here the word may denote simply ‘royal residence’ rather than ‘palace’ (Downey, 1961, 123, 640–1). Vitr. 6.3.8–9. Ath., Deipn. 196a–197c (the symposium-tent), 204d–6c (the river-barge). For a discussion of the tent, see Winter/Christie, 1985, 289–308; for Egyptian oeci on the river-barge, see Ath., Deipn. 205b–c (main oikos for dining), 205e (saloon with peristyle of Indian stones; ‘Dionysiac’ saloon), 206a–c (‘Egyptian’ saloon). As it had been for ornamental details (presumably door and window frames and the like) in the palace of Mausollos at Halikarnassos (Vitr. 22.8.10). Griffin-Kutbay, 1991, 102–3. A specially important consideration in the intense sunlight of Egypt. Fedak, 1990, 129, 388 fig. 171, and above 90. In Delian houses, however, main oeci normally faced southward. Strabo 17.1.8 (C793). It should of course be borne in mind that in addition to the park and gardens the Royal Quarter of Alexandria contained the royal cemetery and the Museum and Library, as well as the palaces built by successive rulers. Nevertheless, the palaces may have covered an area considerably larger than the entire Palatine Hill at Rome. Rodziewicz, 1995, 231, suggests that strict Hippodamian rules were not applied to the thoroughfares of the Royal Quarter of Alexandria,

Notes to pages 169–73

91 92

93 94

95

96

97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104

and probably not to the street plan in several other areas of the city. Moreover, Tomlinson, 1995, 236–40, further suggests that not only were the main streets of the city always wider than secondary thoroughfares, but some of the latter group were later obliterated in rebuilding in the face of growing population pressure. See Sonne, 1992, 139–41, and the watercolour in Hoepfner/Brands, 1992, colour plate 2, top. The Laodike Building exists only as reused spolia, but has generally been thought to have been a large public foutain; cf. Kleiner, 1968, 66–7 and fig. 41, and Schenk, 1997, pl. 34.1 (Corinthian capital). Weber, 1989, however, rejects both Knackfuss’s reconstruction of the monument as a fountain (Milet I.7 277 fig. 278) and Lauter’s suggestion of the possibility of Alexandrian influence (Lauter, 1986, 268); Weber thinks the building might have been a naiskos, but currently available evidence is insufficient for detailed reconstruction drawings. Ath., Deipn. 200b–c. Adriani, 1972, 125–6 and pl. 16.1 (mentioned also in his article on Hellenistic architecture, Adriani, 1963, 290). Cool yet airy corridors, akin to the Campanian and Roman cryptoporticus, had been a feature of Pharaonic temple designs. See Lyttelton, 1974, 41–4 with figs. 7–10; Fedak, 1990, 389, 391–2, and 395 figs. 172, 174–6, and 180; Adriani, 1972, pls. 6–11, gives plans of the Shatby, Sidi Gaber, Mustafa Pasha, and Mafrusa tombs. See preceding note, and Fedak, 1990, 393–6 figs. 178–9, 181, and 183. See ibid., 389 fig. 172, 395 fig. 181, and 391 figs. 174–5. Guide de D´elos, 1966, 154 fig. 35. Cf. Lyttelton, 1974, 41 fig. 7, with Athenaeus’s description, Deipn. 204d–5c. Fedak, 1990, 393–4 figs. 178–9. Ibid., 332 figs. 106–7. See above, 109, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ It is likely that there was such a raised platform in front of the chrematistikos pylon (the ‘portal of the king’s judgment’ or ‘portal of business’) in the palace at Alexandria, mentioned by Polybius (15.31.2) in connection with the events of 203–202, following the death of Ptolemy IV Philopator (Polybius also mentions, at 15.25.3, the construction of a wooden bema ‘in the largest

105

106

107 108

109

110 111 112

113 114

315

peristyle of the palace,’ which must thus have had at least two, and probably three or more, peristyles); on the chrematistikos pylon and the Ptolemaic chrematistai, see Bevan, 1968, 159–61. The complex of raised platform, vestibule, and great hall of Diocletian’s palace at Split gives some idea of what this part of the Alexandrian palace may have been like; also related are the basilica, aula regia, and small chamber of the palace of Domitian on the Palatine at Rome (see Ward-Perkins, 1970, pl. 272, for Split; and MacDonald, 1965, pl. 40 nos. 3, 4, and 5). Actually, Polybius’s reference (15.25.3) to the peristylon megiston (rather than meizon), if taken literally, indicates the existence at the time of at least three peristyle courts; the Polybius passage refers to the ‘public’ peristyle, which was necessarily more spacious than the more private courtyards. Cf. also the multiple courtyards of the Pella palace, above 165. Probably the explanation of the non-rectangular plan of the latrine and the western rooms of Peristyle House III? See Bruneau, 1970, 3 fig. 2 and drawings, pls. B, D, and E; also Raeder, 1988, 339–40 figs. 6–7. Bruneau, 1970, 3 fig. 2, reproduced here as fig. 363; the separate door of the upper apartment, immediately left of the door to the main floor, is shown in detail ibid., 18–19 figs. 12–13. See Guide de D´elos, 1966, 134–7 and figs. 25– 8; Delorme/Marcad´e, 1953; and, for a recent summary and comment, Trumper, 1998, 234–41. ¨ Winter, 1971, 52 and fig. 43. See detailed drawing in Bruneau, 1970, 18 fig. 12, reproduced by Trumper, 1998, 336 fig. 68. ¨ With the disappearance of the Macedonian and Attalid kingdoms, and the decline of Seleukid and Ptolemaic influence in the face of the power of Rome, the islanders would presumably have looked for inspiration to the nearest centres with large-scale buildings. See Guide de D´elos, 159–60 and fig. 36, Trumper, ¨ 1998, 255–7 and fig. 39 no. 118. See above, 162–5. Marzolff, 1992, 154–5 and fig. 8, notes the existence of a ‘Rhodian’ peristyle in the SW complex of Phase III of the palace at Demetrias (the ‘Anti-Anaktoron’), and suggests that a similar peristyle was a feature of the Phase

316

115 116

117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125

126 127

128 129

130

131

Notes to pages 173–80

IV palace (159 fig. 15). The greater height on the columns on one side of the court was achieved by substituting slender Ionic half-columns on piers for the shorter, sturdier Doric (surviving fragments from the ‘Anti-Anaktoron’ peristyle are shown ibid., 155 fig. 9). See above, 160, and below, 177–8. The entablature of the uppermost storey was, as often in later Hellenistic of ‘mixed’ style, culminating in a band of Ionic dentils and an Ionic cornice (Bruneau, 1970, 50 figs. 38–9). Ibid., 34 figs. 29–30, 93 fig. 80. Deiss, 1985, 84. See below, 220–2. E.g., the Corinthian pier-capital in Mustafa Pasha Tomb I, Fedak, 1990, 392 fig. 177. For examples of ornamental stucco at Priene, see Schede, 1964, 97 figs. 112–13. See Bruneau, 1970, 151–93, with figs. and pls., on the mural decorations of the Comedians block. Ibid., 1970, 156 fig. 113, 157. See the examples collected in Ronczewski, 1927a, 3–32. For a good example in the Patras Museum, from ancient Dyme, see Papachatzis, 1980, 76 fig. 23. There are many examples from Rheneia, now mostly in the Mykonos Museum, and generally dating from the third quarter of the second to the early first century BC; see Couilloud, 1974, pls. 3, 11, 12, 13, 26, 27, 30 and 31; in many instances there is a ‘mixed’ entablature. Winter/Christie, 1985, pl. I (from F. Studniczka). Ath., Deipn. 206a–c; on the Alexandrian tombs, see Fedak, 1990, 129–33, and 388–96 figs. 171– 83. Ath., Deipn. 205e. See below, 222–3, 230, in chapter 11, ‘From Greek Structure to Roman Ornament,’ and Winter, 1993, 260–1 and note 37. Cf. the discussion by K. Fittschen, ‘Zur Herkunft und Entstehung des 2. Stils,’ in Zanker, 1976, 530–57. D. Lazarides, 1982, 48 and pls. 29–30 (‘architectural-style’ paintings), D. Lazarides, 1983, 35–6 and pls. 39–40a (scored stucco). For a suggested restoration of three-dimensional wall-decoration in stone in the palace at Pella, see Hoepfner, 1992, 34–5 and figs. 28 (extant fragments) and 29 (restored drawing of walls).

132

133

134 135 136 137 138 139 140

141 142 143 144

145 146

147

148

149 150 151 152

For Miletos and Herakleia, see Krischen, 1941b, pls. 8 and 10–11 (Miletos), 29, and 31 (Herakleia). Among the Hellenistic tombs of Alexandria (Shatbi, Mustafa Pasha, and Sidi Gaber), only the half-columns of the ‘stage’ of Mustafa Pasha III and those flanking the entrance to the klinechamber at Sidi Gaber seem to reproduce genuine half-columns; other examples seem to be reliefversions of free-standing columns. A recent summary and discussion is found in Nielsen, 1994, 146–51 and figs. 78–80; see also Griffin-Kutbay, 1991, 104–6. Lyttelton, 1974, 53, 55. See ibid., 56–9, for discussion of the Corinthian capitals. Ward-Perkins, 1970, 464; Lyttelton, 1974, 53. E.g., the House of the Masks and House of the Trident in the Theatre Quarter. See 169 and note 84 above. Lyttelton, 1974, 53. See Ath., Deipn. 196c on the retinues of the guests, and 196c–d, 196e–7a on the ornament of the intercolumnar spaces. Vitr., 6.3.9. The description in the text seems to me the most satisfactory interpretation of Ath., Deipn. 205f–6a. See also Winter/Christie, 1985, 306–8. E.g., K. Michalowski, Art of Ancient Egypt, 578, bottom row, second from left (Amarna), and 579, middle row, right (Karnak, Dyn. XX). Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 75–90. Lugli, 1946, 46–8 and fig. 12; models of insulae at Ostia and Rome are found in Room 40 of the Museo della Civilt´a Romana at Rome. Leonidaion: Mallwitz, 1972, 248–54, figs. 197– 200 and general plan, 313 fig. 239; Kassope: description in Hammond, 1967, 664–6 with literature, and plan, fig. 29a; Epidauros: Dinsmoor, 1950, 251 with fig. 91. Hoepfner, 1992, 37 fig. 32, restores the plan of the Leonidaion as a Hestiatorion with a series of banquet rooms. See above 118–20, in chapter 6, ‘Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths,’ and 161–3 in this chapter. See Guide de D´elos 155–7 and Plans IV no. 112, and VI no. 113; and Trumper, 1998, 248–53. ¨ 1998, 120–37. See the discussion in Trumper, ¨ For a plan of the entire block, see Bruneau, 1970, pl. A; for a description of the individual houses,

Notes to pages 180–6

153

154 155

156 157 158 159

160

ibid., 11–41 (Comedians), 43–69 (Frontons), and 71–130 (Tritons); a summary is found in Trumper, ¨ 1998, 202–7. See Guide de D´elos Plan IV nos. 111–12 and 154 fig. 35; for a summary of the House of Dolphins, see Trumper, 1998, 246–8. ¨ Trumper, 1998, 290–2 and fig. 50, 316 and fig. 58. ¨ See Guide de D´elos 165–6; BCH 85 (1961) Chronique 911–18, and 86 (1962) Chronique 967–9; and Trumper, 1998, 317–18 and fig. 59. ¨ Gallet de Santerre, 1959, 73–107; on its function and date, 105–7. McKay, 1975, pl. 35 opp. 89 (view), 98 fig. 35 (plan). As suggested in Guide de D´elos 112 (for location see Plan II no. 54). On the houses in this area of ancient Eretria, see now the detailed publication in Ducrey/Metzger/Reber, 1993. Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 33–6, and above, 161, 178.

Chapter 9 1 For example, ‘tower-tombs’ with columnar decoration in the upper storey probably reached Italy in this way; for Martin’s views, Martin, 1970. 2 Coarelli, 1970, 122–3, 145–7, in discussion cited in note 1; see Johannowsky, 1970, 148–51 on Hellenistic Naples and 206–11 on Hellenistic Capua. 3 Briefly indicated in Winter, 1976, 139–45; see more recently and in more detail Barletta, 1990, and Klein, 1998. 4 Winter, 1971, 311–24; on the history of nontorsion and torsion artillery, see Marsden, 1969; on artillery used by the defenders, see now Winter, 1997a. Hannibal’s siege of Saguntum was a ‘textbook’ illustration of Hellenistic siegecraft. Yet the question remains: Would Philip V or Antiochos III have left Rome unassaulted, as Hannibal did in 217, after the battle of Lake Trasimene, and especially in 216, after Cannae? Also, how accurate are Livy’s accounts of the siege of Saguntum: 21.7.4–9.2, 11.3–12.3, 14.1– 15.3? In any event, it is clear from all the ancient sources (cf. Diod. Sic. 25.15.1; Appian, RomHist 6.10–12, and Polyb. 3.17) that the siege was long and bitter, rather than a quickly successful assault.

317

5 Krischen, 1941b, 25 ff.; Lawrence, 1946, 99–107; cf. Winter, 1963, 363–87, Winter, 1971, 280–6. A survey of towers and masonry techniques during the hegemony of Syracuse can be found in Karlsson, 1992. 6 Although Lawrence, 1979, 69–72, argues for a date around 240. 7 On architectural decoration on towers see Winter, 1971, 190–1; for the earlier-third-century dates of the Euryalos and Selinus, i.e., earlier than any examples in Asia Minor or Italy, see ibid., 280–1. 8 Cf. in general L´evˆeque, 1970, 54. 9 On the question of the fortifications still extant at Manduria, and their possible relationship to the Euryalos fort, see Winter, 1963, 366–73, 377, and 379–80 and notes 68–9. 10 Krischen, 1941b, 19ff.; Winter, 1971, 184–8. 11 Krischen, 1941b, pls. 7–8, 27–30. 12 Ibid., 7ff. and pl. 6; Winter, 1997a, 255. 13 See Winter, 1971, 205–33, on the history of gate designs. 14 And are all essentially Hellenistic in design, even in the early first century BC. 15 See Winter, 1971, 186, 232–3, and, for Eretria, Auberson/Schefold, 1972, 57–71 and fig. 11; for detailed publication of the Eretria gate see Klause, 1972. 16 One such chamber still survives in the stretch of wall on the Aventine, near the lower end of the Via S. Anselmo; the number of chambers that may have existed elsewhere in the Republican circuit is unknown. 17 See above, 110, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ 18 It is not argued here that Pergamene arches actually were, but only that they could have been, partly inspired by Italic models or Italic builders. 19 See, e.g., Holloway, 1991, 50–4, on the plans of Megara Hyblaia and Syracuse, and also note 28 below. 20 Velia: Napoli, 1966, 214–17; Morgantina: Sj oqvist, ¨ 1973, 49–60, 70–2. 21 Cf. Heurgon, 1969, 9–31, and Pugliese Caratelli, 1996, 53–9, 77 on these Graeco-Italic links. 22 Martin, 1969, 126, and 1970, 93–107. See Winter, 1971, 82 on other forms of polygonal in the West; cf. Boethius, 1978, 115–16 figs. 110–12, 119–21 figs. 115–17, 169 fig. 159, and 177 fig. 167.

318

Notes to pages 186–90

23 Heurgon, 1969, 248–50. See also, on the west Greek achievement in general, Winter, 1976, Barletta, 1990, and Klein, 1998. 24 Boethius, 1978, 52 fig. 39; Gjerstad, 1960, 450 fig. 281, 1–2. 25 Zancani-Montuoro, 1940, fig. 1. 26 See above, 178, and below, 187–8. 27 Boethius, 1978, 93–4. 28 See Napoli, 1966, 217–20; the fifth-century date that has sometimes been suggested (cf. Boethius, 1978, 93) seems to be too early. 29 For an overview of town planning in the West, see D. Mertens, E. Greco, ‘Urban Planning in Magna Graecia,’ 243–62, esp. 258–62, and A. Di Vita, ‘Urban Planning in Ancient Sicily,’ 263–307, in Pugliese Caratelli, 1996. 30 Boethius, 1978, 69 and notes 43–4. 31 Cosa plan: Brown, 1951 pl. III; Brown’s view, that Cosa was a Latin colony ‘scarcely retouched by Hellenism’ (cf. 112–13 and PECS 246), surely refers to its architectural history, not to the overall plan. On Greek influence at Pompeii, see Maiuri, Ricerca 135–59, esp. 157–9; on Monte Sannace, see Scarfi, 1962, 1965; and on Egnatia, Drago, 1960 and Lo Porto, Egnatia. 32 Leg. Agrar. 2.35.96. 33 See L´evˆeque, 1970, 56–9. 34 Above, 76–92, in chapter 4, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments.’ 35 Verg., Aen. 11.849; Dion. Hal. 1.63.5. 36 Adriani, 1970, 73–5 and pls. I–II; Fedak, 1990, 360 fig. 142, 373 fig. 151. 37 See above, 90–2, on Alexandrian hypogea; on Cyrene, see Stucchi, 1975, 70–86, 149–92. 38 On Tarentine tombs in general, see Klumbach, 1937, and Wuilleumier, 1961, 256–60 and pls. II– III; also Wuilleumier, 1967 and Carter, 1970, esp. 130 and pl. 34 fig. 32. On Corinthian capitals at Tarentum, see Ronczeweski, 1927b and 1934; Roux, 1961, 376, 381–2; von Mercklin, 1962, 49– 60 and figs. 213–91; cf. Bauer, 1973, 52. See also Martin, 1970, 329–38, and esp. 334–8, with the remark ‘la fantaisie des Tarentins a e´ t´e grande’; also Johannowsky, 1970, 409–12. 39 Bianchi Bandinelli, 1929, 76–100; Fedak, 1990, 375 fig. 153b. Pace Bianchi Bandinelli, to the unbiased eye the Ildebranda facade must surely recall the Anatolian temple-tomb-on-podium, or perhaps some North African derivative of this type, rather

40 41 42 43 44 45

46 47

48

49 50 51 52

53

54 55

56

than an Etruscan (or Roman) podium-temple. It is in fact a rock-cut imitation of the Nereid Monument-Mausoleum type, which, like some Lykian rock-cut examples, stands free on three sides within its own niche. It is only the style of mouldings, ornament, and so forth that is obviously local provincial work. Tolle, 1969, 95 fig. 52. ¨ Boethius, 1978, 135 fig. 130; EAA Suppl. (1970) 666 fig. 172. Coarelli, 1988a; Nash, 1962, 355 fig. 1131; Boethius, 1978, 135, 209. Hafner, 1972 (suggested restoration, 116 fig. 34). Nash, 1962, 319–20 figs. 1085, 1086. Ward-Perkins, 1970, 299–301, 356 and pl. 187. On the Hellenistic origin of the Aquileia design see above, 83, 86, in chapter 4, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments.’ Rundbau at Ephesos: Hueber, 1997, 12 fig. 12; La Turbie: Picard, 1965, 181. ‘Le Carceri Vecchie’ and ‘La Connocchia’: WardPerkins, 1970, pls. 164–5; Pozzuoli tomb: 300–1 and fig. 115. On the early trapezoidal theatre see: Dinsmoor, 1950, 210; Anti, 1947, 85–106 and pls. 3–4, 7; Anti/Polacco, 1981; and Courtois, 1989, 29–33, with earlier literature and discussion of earlier interpretations. Lawrence, 1983, 372 fig. 368. See above, 109, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ Bieber, 1961, 129–46; Trendall, 1967. Bieber, 1961, 130 fig. 480; however, as noted 98 note 20, the conventional date seems to rest on nothing firmer than a long-accepted opinion, the validity of which should be re-examined; Courtois, 1989, 24, opts for a date in the second century. See above, 108–10 and note 92, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ See Boethius, 1978, 74 fig. 65, and the painting in the Tomba delle Bighe in Etruria with a representation of wooden stands (Poulsen, 1925, 22–5 and figs. 15 and 17; Mansuelli, 1965, 146 and fig. 53). Livy 40.51.2–3. Livy, Epit. bk. 48; Vell. Paterc. 1.15.3. It was demolished by order of the Senate on the motion of the Consul Cornelius Scipio Nasica; see also Hanson, 1959, 24–5. Vitr. 5.9.1.

Notes to pages 190–5 57 Pompeii: Boethius, 1978, 198–200, and Bieber, 1961, 170–4 and figs. 605–612; on the Theatre of Pompey at Rome see the fragment of the Forma Urbis in Nash, 1962, 214 fig. 1205. 58 However, Bacchielli, 1984, 55–8, regards the Naples terracotta as belonging to the same kind of structure as the Gate of Zeus and Hera at Thasos and the facade of the Lefkadhia Great Tomb. 59 Maiuri, Ricerca 187–9; Bieber, 1961, 172–3; for the Holconius inscriptions see CIL X.833–5. 60 Plut., Pomp. 42.4. 61 Pliny, NH 36.113–15. 62 See 170–1, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture.’ 63 Fedak, 1990, 332 figs. 106–7. 64 Probably a fountain; see Knackfuss, 1924, 263ff., and Kleiner, 1968, 66–7. The extant architrave beams carry a dedication to Laodike, the first wife of Antiochos II (261–246). 65 See below, 237–8, in chapter XII, in the Conclusion, ‘Hellenistic Architects, Engineers, and Technical Writers.’ 66 Pliny, NH 36.116–20; Boethius, 1978, 203. 67 No matter how the rotation was accomplished, it would probably have required extra space equal to the area of at least 1 1/2 theatres. 68 Suet., Nero 31. 69 See Price, 1974. 70 See above, 137, in chapter 7, ‘Covered Halls and Storehouses.’ 71 On Roman trussed roofs, see the proposed restorations of the roofed theatres, or odea, at Pompeii, Aosta, and Argos in Izenour, 1992, 72 fig. 2.1 d–g, 82–3 fig. 2.3 d–g and 94 fig. 2.5 e–h; on Ptolemaic achievements, see Winter/Christie, 1985, 303–4 and note 19. 72 Agora XIV, 11–14; Travlos, 1971, 365–77; Izenour, 1992, 88–9 fig. 2.4 c–f. 73 Assuming that such triad temples did exist in Etruria; see Boethius, 1978, 41 and note 15, and also below. 74 Varro, LL 5.158; Boethius, 1978, 47–8. 75 Boethius, 1978, 46 fig. 34. 76 Vitr. 4.7.5, and the commentary in Boethius, 1978, 54–8. 77 See Pliny, NH 35.151–2, on Butades, and on the artists Eucheir, Diopos, and Eugrammos who followed Damaratos of Corinth to Italy. 78 Pliny, NH 35.157.

319

79 See Boethius, 1978, 36 fig. 20 (Volsinii), 44 fig. 32 (Falerii), and 45 fig. 33 (Orvieto); more recent opinion holds that Boethius’s fig. 32 actually shows the remains of two smaller three-cella temples, which stood side by side on a single platform (see Boitani / Cataldi / Pasquinucci, 1975, 280). 80 Martin, 1969, 120–6, esp. 124–6; if Martin’s view is correct, polytriglyphy was perhaps normal in Tuscan entablatures from the beginning of their history. 81 Boethius, 1978, 52–53 and fig. 42; Boitani / Cataldi / Pasquinucci, 1975, 248–9. 82 Maiuri, Ricerca 148–9, regarded it as Greek work of ca. 550. 83 Boethius, 1978, 130–1 and fig. 126 (general plan of the area). On the Largo Argentina in general see Coarelli, 1981, and Ziolkowski, 1986. 84 Vitr. 3.2.5; Vell. Paterc. 1.11.2–5. On chronology see Richardson, 1976. For Hermodoros at Rome in 138, see Nepos, ap. Priscianus 8.4.17 (Krehl). See also below, 240 and note 28, 242–3. 85 See above, 17–18, in chapter 1, ‘Temples and Sanctuaries’; and cf. 80, 81. 86 See above, 32 and note 194, in chapter 1, ‘Temples and Sanctuaries.’ 87 For the date see Claridge, 1998, 215, 217. Identification and date of the Argentina temples is discussed in detail in Ziolkowski, 1986 and 1992: Temple A is assigned to Feronia, Temple C to Juturna, Temple D to the Lares Permarini, while Temple B is the temple of Fortuna Huiusce Diei, built by Q. Lutatius Catulus, consul in 101 (following Boyanc´e, 1940/1972; see Ziolkowski, 1992, 64, 95–6). 88 Boethius, 1978, 162–3; Nash, 1961, 136; for a detailed investigation of the round temple, see Rakob/Heilmeyer, 1973, 35–9 (dated late second– early first century); on the Forum Boarium in general, see Coarelli, 1988b, and Claridge, 1998, 253–6. On the rectangular temple, generally dated 80–70 BC, see Ruggiero, 1992, and Adam, 1994; Ruggiero dates the building in the first third of the first century BC, Adam ca. 75 BC. The identification of the rectangular temple as that of Portunus is now generally accepted; that of the round temple as a temple of Hercules remains tentative (see Claridge, 1998). 89 See above, 32; also 92 and note 190. 90 Cf. the numerous Apulian examples in von

320

91

92 93

94 95

96

97 98 99

100 101

102

103

104

Notes to pages 195–9

Mercklin, 1962. Tarentine architects were clearly very open to new decorative ideas and forms, as can be seen from the architectural forms on so many Apulian grave-vases; ‘mixed’ orders also appear, e.g., in the restoration of a grave-naiskos, with a mixture of Doric and Ionic, in Carter, 1970, fig. 32 (a real version in stone of the naiskoi shown on the grave-vases). See Von Mercklin, 1962, 48–83, 153–73, 224–8, on Pompeii and South and Central Italy; on Sovana, see above, 83, and Bianchi Bandinelli, 1929, 79 fig. 30, 81 fig. 31, and 88 fig. 33. See Boethius, 1978, 99 fig. 98, from a coin of the late second century. Vitr. 7.Praef.15; Platner/Ashby, 1929, note that the members sent to Rome by Sulla may not actually have been used in the rebuilding of the Capitolium, since coins of 43 BC show Doric columns. Boethius, 1978, 48–9. See Reisner, 1924, p1. 70b; cf. the mixture of orders on the Wurzburg fragment shown in Bieber, 1961, ¨ 69 fig. 266. The ultimate origin of such modillions is perhaps to be sought in the mutules without guttae found on some Hellenistic cornices. Nash, 1962, 319–20 figs. 1085–6. Vitr. 4.1.2; Theatre of Marcellus: Nash, 1962, 420 fig. 1212. Nash, 1961, 178 fig. 195; the Erechtheion capitals were imitated in Augustan times in the Athenian temple of Roma and Augustus (Travlos, 1971, 497 fig. 627). Maiuri, Ricerca 101–24, esp. 123–4. See Hanson, 1959, esp. figs. 5–7 (Gabii, Cagliari, Tivoli), and Coarelli, 1987, 35–84 and 113–40 with figs. (Gabii and Tivoli). On Veiovis see Lugli, 1946, 39–42; Nash, 1962, 490–1 and figs. 1308–9; and Blake, 1947, 130, 329 note 18. On the Temple of Concord see Lugli, 1946, 111– 12, with plan of the Capitol and its slopes on pl. I, and Blake 1947, 329. The building of Opimius has traditionally been regarded as a reconstruction of an earlier temple erected by L. Furius Camillus in 367, but this view is not accepted in Ziolkowski, 1992, 23 (following Momigliano, 1942). Ward-Perkins, 1970, pl. 163. Here again, the reason for adopting the transverse plan was probably the

105 106

107 108 109 110

111

112

113 114

115

desire to provide a colonnaded open area in front of the large cellas of the Capitolium, without extending the complex further into the forum area. See above, 10, 17, 19, in chapter 1. Orlandos, 1968, 2: 236; Napoli, 1966, seems to accept this view, dating the Porta Rosa at Velia well before the end of the fourth century. On the eastern Mediterranean, see Boyd, 1978; it now seems likely, however, that voussoir arches and vaults were already being built in Macedonia during the lifetime of Philip II, even if still inspired by Near Eastern examples (above, 89– 90). Boethius, 1978, 93. Ibid., 86 fig. 81, 94; WorcArtMusAnnual 5 (1946) 15 ff. Boethius, 1978, 94. Monuments of Aristaineta, Prusias and Paullus: Lawrence, 1983, 280 figs. 242, 257, 258; Agrippa Monument: Travlos, 1971, 493 fig. 622. On the suggested ‘arched gate’ at the W end of the Stoa Poikile at Athens, see above, 40, in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways.’ Fornix Stertinia in the Circus Maximus and another in the Forum Boarium, 196 BC; the Fornix of Scipio in the Capitoline precinct, 190; later in the century, the Fornix Fabiana, 121, rebuilt 57; see Platner/Ashby, 1929, s.vv., for literary sources. Boethius, 1978, 149, seems to accept these fornices as being permanent masonry, rather than the light temporary structures that have sometimes been suggested. See Fasolo/Gullini, 1953, 322, 325–5 (on incertum), 378–91 (on the history of building technique), and 391–407 (on style); their arguments regarding date are followed in Coarelli, 1987, 65–70, 85–103, but were not accepted by others, e.g., Boethius, 1978, 235 note 31, with arguments pro and contra, and Richardson, PECS 736. E.g., in the Casa delle Nozze d’Argento; Carrington, 1936, pl. XVI. Arches of Pons Aemilius: Livy 40.51.4 (142 BC); Aqua Marcia (the first aqueduct to have a lengthy section supported on arches): Frontinus, De Aquis 1.7 (144 BC). It is possible that some arched spans, e.g., in Asia Minor, may be of Hellenistic date; yet although the traditional arguments against such a date

Notes to pages 199–205

116 117 118 119 120 121

122 123 124 125 126

127

128 129

130 131 132

133 134 135 136 137 138

no longer have any general validity, the actual existence of arched bridge spans in Hellenistic times remains to be demonstrated. Adriani, 1963, 290–1. Boethius, 1978, 195–6, and Ward-Perkins, 1970, 298–9. Boethius, 1978, 144–5, 195. Vitr. 5.10.5. See Winter, 1971, 93–5 on mortarwork. See De Agric. 14.1 and 4, 18.7 on mortar; cf. Blake, 1947, 325–9 on ‘pseudo-concrete’ and early concrete. Boethius, 1978, 128–9; Brown, 1951, 109–12. Arrian, Anab. 2.21.4. Vitr. 2.6.1. Stillwell, 1930, 36–42. Lugli, 1934, 132–8; Frank, 1924, 119, preferred a date early in the first century, at the time of the Social Wars. Blake, 1947, 325–9, thought that the Concord podium was still the earliest definitely datable example of Roman concrete, but recognized that this material must have been used earlier, even if extant examples can rarely be dated with precision. Boethius, 1978, 107–8. Richardson, 1976, 57–64, has argued that this building cannot have been the Porticus Aemilia, and that Gatti’s restoration of . . . . ]LIA, on a fragment of FUR, as AEMI]LIA cannot be maintained. Boethius, 1978, 128. Theatre of Pompey: Nash, 1962. 427–8 figs. 1221, 1223. Incertum at Terracina: Boethius, 1978, 140– 1; in Vitruvius, Vitr. 2.8.1. Boethius, 1978, 141–2 and 196 fig. 178. Servius, ad Verg., Aen. 1.422. On the Etruscan origin of limitatio see Varro ap. Frontinus, in Corpus Agrimensorum 27. 13–5 (Lachmann); cf. Hyginus, ibid. 166.10–12; on the rites accompanying limitatio and new foundations, see Varro LL. 6.53. Boethius, 1978, 125–6. Ibid., 178–83, and cf. 127 fig. 123 (Ostia) with 182 fig. 172 (Alba Fucens). The murus terreus Carinarum of Varro, LL. 5.48. Boethius, 1978, 104 and fig. 104, 122 and note 2; Quilici, 1968; Sommella, PECS 85. Marsden, 1969, 174–98 (late Republican and Imperial), 199–202 (on Vitruvius and Philo). See above, 138, in chapter 7.

321

139 See above, 140, 168–9, in chapter 8. 140 Vitr. 6.5.2. 141 On Ptolemaic halls and Roman basilicas, see Winter/Christie, 1985; on audience halls in Ptolemaic palaces, see above, 170–1, in chapter 8. 142 Plan of the Republican Forum: Lugli, 1946, pl. III (opposite 80). Basilica Porcia: Livy 39.44.7, Plutarch, Cato Minor 5.1. Basilica Aemilia: Livy 40.51.5, Boethius, 1978, 148, 149–52 with notes 15–17. Basilica Sempronia: Livy 44.16. 143 Tabernae novae: burned 210, Livy 36.27.2; evidently rebuilt, and still standing in Livy’s time, Livy 3.48.5, 40.51.5; cf. Platner/Ashby, 1929, s.v. ‘Tabernae.’ See Lugli, 1946, pl. IV (opp. 112) for a plan of the Forum under the Empire. 144 Vitr. 5.1.4–10. 145 Vitr. 5.1.5. 146 Vitr. 5.1.8. 147 Ardea: Sommella, PECS 85; Boethius, 1978, 150– 1 and fig. 140, with literature 233 note 15. Cosa: Brown, 1951, 75–8, figs. 70–3 and pl. III, PECS 246; Boethius, 1978, 145 fig. 138, bottom. 148 Epist. 6.33. 149 See above, 56 – if indeed the plan of the Agora of the Italians is to be regarded as Hellenistic rather than Italic. 150 Celani, 1965; Boethius, 1978, 176–8 and figs. 166, 168. 151 Coarelli, 1987, 85–103 and figs. 26–9; Boethius, 1978, 167 fig. 157. 152 Vitr. 6.3.1. 153 Boethius, 1978, 80–94 and figs. 72–93. 154 Vitr. 6.3.1. 155 Vitr. 6.3.2. 156 On Gordion in Phrygia, see Young, 1958, with pls. 23–7; on the Etruscans and Lydia, whether acceptable or not, Her., 1.94. 157 Vitr. 6.3.2. 158 Vitr. 6.3.1. Presumably the smallest possible Corinthian atrium would have had three columns on each of the four sides, or else three columns lengthwise and two crosswise (probably the arrangement of the six marble columns in the house of L. Crassus, referred to in the text and note 159 below). 159 NH 36.7–8; Mamurra was the first Roman to have the walls of his house entirely faced with marble (NH 36.48).

322

Notes to pages 205–12

160 161 162 163

Diod. Sic. 5.40.1. Livy 23.8.8 and 9.13. See above, 169–70. Cic., De Legg. 2.1.2; Varro, RR 8–17; cf. Pavlovskis, 1973, and the occurrence of a ‘euripus’ in the House of Loreius Tiburtinus at Pompeii. 164 Claudius Rutilius Namatianus, De Red. Suo 1.63–6: Fecisti patriam diversis gentibus unam: Profuit invitis, te dominante, capi; Dumque offers victis proprii consortia iuris, Urbem fecisti, quod prius orbis erat. Chapter 10 1 See above, 100–4, 107–8, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ 2 I.e., the predecessor of the street known in Late Antique times as the Arkadiane. 3 Plut., Pompey 42. 4 See Stevens, 1940. 5 WorcArtMusAnnual 5 (1946) 15ff. Scoufopoulos, 1971, 70–2 and plans 10–11. Bundgaard, 1976, 43– 7 and pl. G, argues that the Mycenaean structure was a sanctuary, not a tower in a defensive system. 6 Dinsmoor, 1950, 200 fig. 75. It seems clear that some sort of ‘Southeast Hall’ was intended; a southwest wing on the same scale as the Pinakotheke is perhaps less likely. 7 See above, 56–7, and below 213–14, on the temple of Athena and the theatre at Pergamon. 8 See the descriptions of the site in Waldstein, 1902. 9 Paus. 2.17.3. 10 There are exceptions in Old Greece; the placing of the temples of Poseidon on Cape Sounion is a conspicuous example. 11 E.g., the Stoa of Zeus; the Painted Stoa (Poikile), on the north side, was also an elegant and famous building. 12 On the South Stoa and the Northwest Stoa at Corinth, see Coulton, 1976, 57–8, 228. 13 See above, 9, 18, in chapter 1, ‘Temples and Sanctuaries,’ and 52, 54, 56, chapter 3, ‘Stoas in Later Greek Architecture.’ 14 On this area of the sanctuary at Delphi, see Hoepfner, 1997. 15 The Lesche of the Knidians, because of its inwardfacing design and small scale, is no real exception.

16 Still indispensable in the study of this aspect of ancient architecture is Rostovtzeff, 1911. 17 In the matter of constriction and crowding, it is a sobering thought that my own city has a population of about 2.5 million people within an area of some 625 km2, whereas Imperial Rome, at the peak of its growth in population, accommodated perhaps two-fifths of the population of Toronto in an area that was probably only about 3% of Toronto’s. 18 On the suburban gymnasia at Athens see above, 117, in chapter 6, ‘Gymnasia, Palaistrai, and Baths.’ Country life and country landscape: see, in addition to Rostovtzeff, 1911, Strabo 793–4, on the palace complex at Alexandria; and Webster, 1967, 61–78. For the recurrence of the theme in Latin authors, see Pavlovskis, 1973. For actual examples see Boethius, 1978, 190–5; McKay, 1975, 100–35, discusses and illustrates both Republican and Imperial villas. 19 See above, 169–71, on Ptolemaic palace architecture. 20 Detailed discussion of the tent, with proposed new restoration, is found in Winter/Christie, 1985, 289–308. 21 Webster, 1967, 65. 22 Athenaeus, Deipn. 207–9. 23 Cholmeley, 1930, 24–5. 24 Boethius, 1978, 194. 25 Pliny NH 35.26: ‘oratio ... de tabulis omnibus signisque publicandis, quod fieri satius fuisset quam in villarum exilia pelli.’ 26 Ibid., 35.130. 27 Ward-Perkins, 1970, 322–3; Gnirs, 1915. 28 The informal mixing of various elements is clear in Strabo’s description of the palace area of Alexandria; see above, note 18. 29 K. Lehmann, 1953, 23–4. 30 The American publications on the Samothrace excavations frequently stress the connections between Samothracian architecture and the Macedonian mainland. Thus part at least of the interest in landscape and vista found in the Alexandrian tradition may have come to Egypt with the Macedonian rulers; but the influence of the centuriesold traditions of Egypt also seems undeniable. 31 Paus. 9.29.6. 32 Kirsten/Kraiker, 1962, 586–7. 33 K. Lehmann, 1983, 87–8.

Notes to pages 212–20 34 In assessing the importance of fountains and water in the Samothrace sanctuary, we should remember that the description of the island in ancient sources as ‘wooded’ Samothrace may well suggest a greater abundance of water in antiquity than at the present time. 35 See above, 43–4, in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways.’ 36 See the detailed publication of the Ptolemaion in the Samothrace series, Frazer, 1990: restored plan, pl. LXXXII; E, W, and S elevations, pls. LXXXIII–LXXXV; Ionic capital, pls. LI–LII; Corinthian capital, pl. LIII. Frazer maintains that the architectural elements are derived, not from Alexandria, but from mainland Greece and the north Aegean; see, however, my remarks in Winter, 1993, 259–61 and notes 36–7. Of course, one must also be careful in making too sharp a distinction between ‘Macedonian’ and ‘early Alexandrian’; see note 30 above. 37 On the importance of Syria and Alexandria in the development of Corinthian, see the next chapter, 233–4, 230–1. In dealing with the general history of Corinthian in Italy, it is important to distinguish between the use of Corinthian as an independent order and Corinthian used primarily as a decorative element; in the latter respect, South and Central Italy were certainly much influenced by the Greeks of Magna Graecia, especially Tarentum. 38 Cf. the description of the tent in Athenaeus (196b–7c) and the high proportion of Corinthian members in the collection of the Graeco-Roman Museum at Alexandria. 39 It is of course not without significance that Pergamene sites were more easily treated in the ‘Pergamene’ manner than the flat landscape of the Nile valley could have been. 40 E.g., as they did in the gymnasium and Athena complexes at Pergamon itself, and in the grouping of complexes of buildings at Aigai. 41 For uncertainty whether this stoa had columns on both sides, see above, 64, in chapter 3. 42 The typological relationships between Aigai and Pergamon were already emphasized by Bohn and his colleagues over a century ago; see the recent study Seddon, 1987. 43 See Sjoqvist, 1973, 28 fig. 84, on Morgantina; EAA ¨ 7 (1966) 865–8, on Tyndaris.

323

44 Cf. Akurgal, 1973, 179 fig. 61a (Magnesia), with 245 (Labraynda). On ‘skenographic’ effects in the Hellenistic architecture of Pergamon and Magnesia, see Hoepfner, 1997. 45 Akurgal, 1973, 92 fig. 34 no. 1. 46 See above, 46, in chapter 3. 47 Ibid., 54–5. 48 Ibid., 57. 49 Paus. 6.24.2. 50 E.g., as found at Priene, Magnesia on the Maiander, and Ephesos. 51 Cf. the remark made by the Persian prince Hormisdas to Constantius II regarding the setting of the equestrian statue of Trajan in Trajan’s Forum (in the description of the forum in Ammianus Marcellinus 16.16–18). 52 Vitr. 5.1.2–2.1. 53 See above, 18–19, in chapter 1. 54 Attested by an inscription found in the sanctuary, Herzog, 1903, 10; see also Winter, 1993, 268 and note 59. 55 See above, 19–21 in chapter 1, on the history of monumental altars. 56 See above, 18–19 in chapter 1, and 45–6 in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways.’ 57 Doubts have been expressed about the connection between the temple site and the cave; the text follows the view that such a connection did exist. 58 For divergent views regarding the date of the later temple see Kontis, 1963. The Danish excavators dated the new temple ca. 330, the propylaia ca. 300; more recently, Lippolis, 1989, has proposed a date early in the third century for the temple, with the propylaia completed during the first half, the lower stoa at the end of the century. Chapter 11 1 Despite the fact that Classical Athenian Ionic and Doric were highly individualistic creations of their period. 2 Liberati/Bourbon, 1996, 258–9. 3 Library of Hadrian, Colonnacce, Ward-Perkins, 1970, pls. 194, 126; for Tegea and Bassai, see above 5 and below 220–1. 4 Cf. the sections of Grinnell, 1943, pl. XXVB (Paestum) and Hill/Williams, 1966, pl. XIII; and, on the carved simas at Tegea and Nemea, see

324

5

6 7 8

9 10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

22

Notes to pages 220–4

Hill/Williams, 1966, pl. XXIXA (Tegea), 17–19 fig. 4 and 22 and 25. Dyggve, 1960, 104, states that the restored drawing, 145 fig. IV.17, showing a kyma moulding along the top of the Doric abacus of the new temple of Athena Lindia, and here reproduced as fig. 414, is based on a report of Kinch from 1904, but that this part of the capital is no longer preserved. He notes (123) that such capitals are common in the Doric tradition of Hellenistic Asia Minor, but are also found elsewhere; he illustrates (148 figs. IV.22–3) two examples from Priene (Demeter temple, later fourth century, and Sacred Stoa in agora, after 150), and a third, of the second century, from the Ptoion in Boiotia. Gruben, 1980, 173 fig. 151. Ibid., 214. See above, 47, in chapter 2, and Busing, 1970, figs. ¨ 51, 52. Restorations: of exterior, Bommelaer, 1997, 30 fig. 12 left, 74 fig. 74 left; of porch with Ionic half-columns at back, ibid., 79 fig. 81; detail of a block with half-column-on-pier, ibid., 77 fig. 75. E.g., in the theatre at Priene and in the upper storey of the Stoa of Attalos at Athens. On the question of the rear corner capitals at Bassai see Winter, 1997b, 441. Hill/Williams, 1966, 44–6. Norman, 1984. Lefkadhia: Petsas, 1966, pl. I (in colour), Fedak, 1990, 356 fig. 138; Thasos: Martin, 1968, 171– 84 and fig. 1. Since the half-columns had no structural function at either level, there was no problem in placing an upper half-column over an intercolumnar space at the lower level. See the cross-section in Lawrence, 1983, 241 fig. 212. Roux, 1961, pl. 28 and 125 fig. 28. Ibid., pls. 38–9 and 54. See above, 6, in chapter 1. S. Miller, 1973. Tomlinson, 1963. Winter, 1982, 399. Burford, 1969, 63–4, for the date of the commencement of work, which probably continued into the 320s. The alternative of using oblong metopes, as in the Stoa of Antigonos on Delos, was unattractive, as restored elevations of that building clearly show. The combined effect of lighter columns

23 24

25

26

27 28 29 30

31 32 33 34

35

36

and relatively longer spans is strikingly shown in the upper-storey frieze of the Asklepieion stoa at Athens, with five triglyphs per interval in addition to those over the columns; cf. Busing, 1970, fig. 19. ¨ Travlos, 1971, 512–15, 524–6. See Busing, 1970, fig. 73, on solutions to the ¨ problem of carrying a Doric colonnade around an internal angle, and figs. 66–7 on the cordiform pier of the North Market at Miletos. See above, 146–7, in chapter 7, ‘Covered Halls and Storehouses.’ For the names in the dedicatory inscription, see Knackfuss, 1908, 100 and Beilage to 96. Thus, the Gigantomachy theme of the Great Altar at Pergamon is one of the themes of the metopes of the Parthenon at Athens; cf. the relationship between the metopes of the Parthenon and the subjects of the Second Pergamene Dedication at Athens, and the scaled-down copy of Pheidias’s Parthenos used as the cult-statue of Athena at Priene. Akurgal, 1973, 78 fig. 27; Lawrence, 1983, 267 fig. 241. Cf. Lawrence, 1983, 241 fig. 212 with 242 fig. 213. Dinsmoor, 1950, 235 and note 2. On Uzuncaburc¸, see C. Williams, 1974, and Borker, ¨ 1972. Borker notes Alexandrian elements in the ¨ design of the capitals. None of the examples in Ronczewski, 1927a, however, has helix stems that are as strongly recurved and crossed over as those of the Uzuncaburc¸ capitals; thus, while the original notion may have been Alexandrian, the Cilician capitals seem to be an independent creation. Travlos, 1971, 403. Elder Pliny, NH 36.45. Travlos, 1971, 409 fig. 528. The Alexandrian connections of the capitals, emphasized in Borker, 1972, need not mean that ¨ the architect was himself an Alexandrian; see note 30 above. On the importance of Hermogenes see the articles in Hoepfner/Schwandner, 1990. It is likely, though not certain, that Pytheos and Hermogenes were both natives of Priene. Vitr. 3.5. On Hermogenes and Vitruvius, see Riemann, 1952, Hoepfner, 1968, Gros, 1978, and Bingol, ¨ 1980a, 132–53. It is significant that most of Vitruvius’s illustrations of column spacings and proportions are Roman; only the

Notes to pages 224–7

37

38 39

40

41

42 43

44 45

46

eustyle arrangement is certainly Greek, and was evidently not favoured by architects other than Vitruvius, so that he is unable to cite a Roman example. The half-capitals at Bassai are the earliest known examples of ‘diagonal’ Ionic. The capital from the sanctuary of Apollo on the Aspis Hill at Argos (Roux, 1961, 79–80, figs. 11–12 and pl. 25) is dated by Roux to the latter fourth to earlier third century; see the detailed discussion ibid., 339, 342, 345–50. For the capitals of the Epidaurian proskenion see ibid., pl. 95.2. See above, 104–6, in chapter 5, ‘Theatres and Stadia.’ The Philippeion was built in commemoration of the Macedonian victory at Chaironeia in 338; the Monument of Lysikrates celebrated a choral victory in 334/3. While we do not known how long after the actual historical events the monuments were planned and built, the Philippeion was presumably begun before the death of Philip II in 336, and would therefore be earlier than the Monument of Lysikrates by at least three years. See S. Miller, 1973, already cited in note 18. Connections with Asia Minor at a fairly early period are proved by the remains of Ionic buildings, especially capitals, in the Thessalonike and Kavalla Museums. The Attic-Ionic base was closely associated with Corinthian, e.g., in the Tholos at Epidauros, and was combined with a plinth at an early period, as at Belevi (next note). On the history of the Eastern Ionic base in particular see the discussion in Rumschied, 1992. Fedak, 1990, 341 fig. 120 (Telmessos), 328–9 figs. 101a–b (Belevi). Magnesia: Lawrence, 1983, 283 fig. 261. On the development of Hellenistic Ionic in general, and of the bolster ornament in particular, see Bingol, ¨ 1980a, esp. 78–132. E.g., the examples in the Museum at Kavalla, from the Parthenos sanctuary. Despite Dinsmoor’s doubts (1950, 231 note 1), the east facade at Didyma seems much more like Roman Imperial than like Hellenistic work. See Bingol, ¨ 1980a, 43–4, on the gradual disappearance of the echinus from beneath the overhanging ends of the bolster.

325

47 Limyra: Fedak, 1990, 302–3 figs. 70, 72; Labraynda: Winter, 1993, 257 and note 24. 48 Fedak, 1990, 279 fig. 39, 302 fig. 70, 341 fig. 120. 49 In the Mnesiklean Propylaia at Athens the bottom fascia is higher than the other two, while in the Erechtheion all three fasciae are the same height; see Travlos, 1971, 222–3 figs. 286–7, 490 fig. 617, and cf. 497 fig. 627 (Roma and Augustus), in which the top fascia is substantially higher than the other two. 50 Lawrence, 1983, 265 fig. 239. 51 E.g., as in the Ionic Temple B in the Kos Asklepieion (see preceding note). 52 Busing, 1970, fig. 53. ¨ 53 E.g., as in the cella of the temple of Athena at Tegea. The solution adopted in the Olympia gate is also found at Alexandria (Ronczewski, 1927a, 9 fig. 6 and pl. I), and was taken over by Roman architects. 54 Lawrence, 1983, 148 fig. 111. 55 Childs/Demargne, 1989, pls. LXXVI–LXXX (restored elevations with placing of extant sculptures indicated); on the Mausoleum, cf. Jeppesen, 1976, Suppl. 2 figs. 13 and 25, with the earlier restoration in Dinsmoor, 1950, pl. LXIII. The reconstruction of the Nereid Monument in the British Museum strikingly illustrates the reduced effectiveness of the smaller friezes placed further from the viewer, by contrast with the friezes on the podium. The suggestion regarding the possible derivation of such friezes from the Nike temple parapet I owe to an anonymous referee consulted by the University of Toronto Press. 56 See the restoration cited in preceding note. 57 See above, 188, in chapter 9, ‘The Hellenistic Style in Italy and Sicily.’ In the fourth century and the Hellenistic period, major tomb monuments near to the coast, which were often in lofty or otherwise conspicuous positons, doubtless also served as navigational aids by day; some of them may have carried beacons by night, and probably copied the form of the top storey of the Alexandrian Pharos. Such a function would of course have given them an additional propaganda aspect. 58 The military equipment and trophies symbolized the Pergamene victories over the Gauls. 59 Krencker/Zschietzschmann, 1938, 181 fig. 271 and pl. 72 (restored drawings), 179 fig. 267 (detail of capital).

326

Notes to pages 227–30

60 Kuh-i-Khwaja: Herzfeld, 1935, 67 and pl. IX top; Konkobar: ibid., 1935, 50, and Matheson, 1972, 124 (now regarded as of Parthian date). 61 Krencker/Zschietzschmann, 1938, pl. 70b (Qasr Wadi), 205–6 figs. 302–3 and pl. 88 (Nebi Safa), 214 figs. 320–1, 216 fig. 322 (Hibbariye), pls. 52f, 52c (Bet Jalluk), 260 figs. 398, 399 (Deir el Ashair). 62 Suweida: Brunnow/von Domaszewski, 1909, 98– ¨ 101 and figs. 993–5; Fedak, 1990, 428–9, figs. 221 a–c. B’nei Hezir tomb: Avigad, 1954, fig. 25, between 38 and 39, 40 figs. 26–7, 42–5 figs. 28–31, 77 fig. 42.1 (restored drawing), and EncWrldArt 8 pl. 331, bottom left; Qasr el-Abd: Harding, 1959, Will/Larch´e, 1991, Will, 1992, Ginouv`es, 1994, and Butler, 1919, 9 fig. 5 and pl. II (Corinthian capitals). 63 Butler, 1904, 324, 327. 64 Champdor, 1972, front cover and pls. 29, 31–2 (Khazne), 37–8 (Deir); Browning, 1973, Frontispiece and 117–25 with figs. 64–8 (Khazne), 96 fig. 40, 186–9 with fig. 121 (Deir). Striking colour photographs are found in Whiting, 1935, 151, 156 (Khazne), 157 (Deir), with good black-andwhite detail of Khazne Corinthian capitals on 126, bottom. Ronczewski, 1932, has studied in detail the stylistic affinities of the Corinthian capitals of the Khazne, comparing them with Alexandrian examples and with those of the Qasr el-Abd. On the basis of a detailed analysis of all architectural details and the inscriptions, McKenzie, 1990, 50– 2, dates the Khazne ‘as early as 96/92 BC,’ or possibly even earlier (reign of Aretas II, 100– 96/92), and in any case prior to the first century AD; she assigns the Deir (in her Group E) to the earlier half of the first century AD (later than the Corinthian Tomb of her Group C, which in turn is earlier than the reign of Malichos II, AD 40/44– 70). On the ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple at Paestum, see F. Krauss, R. Herbig, Der korinthisch-dorische Tempel am Forum von Paestum (Berlin 1939); and Robertson, 1945, 203 fig. 91 (drawing of order). 65 His grandfather and great-grandfather had both married Seleukid princesses. 66 See above, 227 and note 59. 67 Krencker/Zschietzschmann, 1938, 54 fig. 79 (restoration), 52–3 figs. 75–7 (details); Fedak, 1990, 431 fig. 223. 68 Avigad, 1954, 19–20 figs. 13–14. 69 Ibid., 1954, 79 fig. 43, 80–1 figs. 44–5, 82 figs. 46–7 (‘Zachariah’), frontispiece and 91 figs. 49–50, 92

70

71

72

73

74

75 76

77 78 79 80 81

fig. 51, 94–8 figs. 52–8, 100 fig. 60, 105 figs. 65– 6 (‘Absalom’); the location of these two tombs relative to each other and to the B’nei Hezir tomb is shown in the drawings, fig. 25 between 38 and 39, and in the photographs, 40 figs. 26–7. Nemea: see above, 67, in chapter 3; Lawrence, 1983, 257 fig. 229. Langaza: Macridy, 1911, 193– 215 (plan, pl. 1, restored facade, pl. 3). Alexandria: Fedak, 1990, 391–2 figs. 174–6, Lyttelton, 1974, 44 figs. 9–10 (Mustafa Pasha I). Miletos: Coulton, 1976, 135–6, Busing, 1970, 57 ¨ and figs. 20–1. E.g., Ronczewski, 1927a, pls. I and II.1, V.2 (upper capital). Although the majority of the capitals illustrated here (pls. I–VIII and figs. 2–22) are assigned to the Roman period, Ronczewski notes (28–9) that motifs of Alexandrian origin persisted in Egyptian Corinthian down to the second century AD, whereas examples of Roman ‘normal’ Corinthian found at Alexandria are all relatively late by comparison. Peters/Thiersch, 1905; Tomb I: frontispiece and pl. V (doorway), 16 fig. 1 (plan), 17 fig. 2 (elevations), pl. VI (figures and animals), pls. VII–XV (animals); Tomb II: 30 fig. 5 (plan), 31 fig. 6 (elevation), 32–3 and pl. XVI (musicians and paintings). The loculus inscriptions indicate that Tomb I was in use 196– 119 BC, Tomb II 188–135 BC. The tombs at Marissa (Mareshah) are briefly described and illustrated by Kloner, 1996, 32–41, with the Peters/Thiersch colour plate of the Doric doorway in Tomb I on the front cover, plans of both tombs, and a large foldout plate of Tomb I. See also the highly uncanonical ‘mixed’ orders in the Palestinian tombs illustrated in Fedak, 1990, 418–19 figs. 208–9, 420–1 figs. 211–13, 422–3 figs. 215–16, 425 fig. 218, 426–7 figs. 219–20. As shown in the drawings in Lawrence, 1983, 15. Norman, 1984, pl. 30 fig. 7; Hill/Williams, 1966, 32–3 and fig. 6. Hill and Williams note that Tegea and Nemea provide the earliest examples of such bases. Herzfeld, 1935, 51 and pl. VI. Ibid., 49. Lyttelton, 1974, 91 fig. 20. Murray, 1917/1970. Many of the large buildings of Roman date would have been difficult, if not impossible, to construct without the technical skill and self-confidence of

Notes to pages 230–3

82

83

84

85 86 87

88 89

90

91 92

Roman architects and engineers; cf. Wheeler, 1964, 20–2. On the Alexandrian type of Corinthian and its influence see Roux, 1961, 378–81, and Bauer, 1973, 111 (on the temple at Uzuncaburc¸). Lyttelton, 1974, 73, 75, 76, 89, 95, and 199, sees Alexandrian influence over a very wide area in Hellenistic and earlier Imperial times. Ignoring the fact that the Tegea temple used half-columns, whereas those at Nemea were freestanding. On the stylistic relationships between the Tegea and Nemea temples, see note 11 above. Bauer, 1973, 93 and 124 (chronological table), adopts Mobius’s date ca. 350–340 (Mobius, ¨ ¨ 1927, 177); stylistically, however, a date after the Monument of Lysikrates (to which the Asklepieion fragments have some similarities), but well before the Didyma half-column capitals, seems to me more reasonable. See above, note 25. See above, 168, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture.’ On the Seleukid predecessor see von Steuben, 1981. Even if Syrian architects did not appreciate that the fluting of Greek columns was designed to create sharp shadows in bright exterior sunlight, it remains true that the Baalbek designers were obviously more interested in surface carving on interior than on exterior columns. The same comments, of course, may often be made on Roman Imperial work; the Pantheon, for example, has plain shafts in the porch columns, fluted shafts in the porch pilasters and in the interior of the rotunda. Roux, 1961, 379–80; Bauer, 1973, 106, 110. Boethius, 1978, 159 and 160 fig. 151, and Sear, 1982, 20–2 and fig. 9, both note the Greek style of the temple and of the Ionic capitals, which are not unlike some examples in the Graeco-Roman Museum of Alexandria. On Roman ‘normal’ Corinthian see Heilmeyer, 1970. Studies of ‘orthodox’ and ‘heterodox’ styles of Corinthian must still start with Schlumberger, 1933. See the discussion of the architecture of the Palazzo by Lyttelton, 1974, 53–60. The capitals in question are illustrated in Ronczewski, 1927a, 4 figs. 1a–1b; they were found in the area of the eastern harbour of Alexandria.

327

93 In this respect the capitals of the temple of Zeus at Uzuncaburc¸ show the influence of Alexandrian designs, even if they are not direct copies of Alexandrian models. 94 E.g., Ronczewski, 1927a, pl. IV.2 (both capitals), also Lyttelton, 1974, pls. 53–4; the former pair may be of Hellenistic date. 95 See above, 47, in chapter 2. 96 Coulton, 1976, 269, 271, with bibliography. 97 Busing, 1970, 60–1; he suggests that the Perachora ¨ member in question was a half-column attached to an anta rather than to a pier. See, however, Coulton’s discussion, Coulton, 1976, 106–7, 125–7, including his observations on the upper interior order at Nemea. 98 The composite support is more than one and three-quarter times as large in cross-section as a simple column of the same diameter as the half-column would be. See also Coulton, 1976, 106–7 and 125, as well as 127, on Pergamene double half-columns-on-piers (actually double two-thirds-columns); and see above, 68–9, in chapter 3, ‘Stoas in Later Greek Architecture’ and 68–9, in chapter 5. 99 Busing, 1970, 49 and 50 with figs. 53–4. ¨ 100 Andronikos, 1989, 40–1 fig. 17, 47 fig. 21 (airviews of palace), 43 fig. 18 (plan of the main palace building); double half-columns-on-piers shown between Pr. 1 and Pr. 2, between Pr. 3 and the east colonnade of the great court, and in the entrance to Room F. The first and third of these are also shown in Busing, 1970, fig. 56. ¨ 101 Busing, 1970, figs. 58–9; Coulton, 1976, 195 fig. ¨ 22, 203 fig. 33c, 233–4 and 232 fig. 60 no. 13. 102 Busing, 1970, 55, 80, 54; Travlos, 1971, 512–13 ¨ figs. 644–5, 515 fig. 649 (Attalos II), 525 fig. 661 (Eumenes II, restored on the basis of forms used in Attalos II); Busing, 1970, figs 61–4 (Altar). ¨ 103 Of course, in addition to their decorative role the bull protomes also enlarged the bearing surface of the pier capitals. 104 See above, 42, in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways,’ and 112, in chapter 5; and Busing, 1970, 50–1 and fig. ¨ 55 (Delos), fig. 11 (Olympia). The half-columnon-pier, Ronczewski, 1927a, pl. I, was apparently part of a scheme similar to that at Olympia (ibid., 9 fig. 6). 105 Andronikos, 1989, 33 fig. 11 (in colour). 106 Busing, 1970, fig. 37. ¨

328

Notes to pages 233–45

107 108 109 110

Travlos, 1971, 241 fig. 314, 248 fig. 319. See above, 229 and note 69. Fedak, 1990, 391–2 figs. 174 and 176, 395 fig. 180. Winter, 1971, 120 fig. 95, 166 fig. 147, 190–1; Krischen, 1941a, pls. 6 and 25 (Pompeii), 7 and 30 (Paestum). 111 Examples: Winter, 1971, 142 fig. 118, 165 fig. 144, 177 figs. 170 and 171, 187 fig. 185, 202 fig. 202, 255 fig. 288. 112 Above, 110, in chapter 5; illustrated in Martin, 1973, 43 fig. 39. 113 Although Roman sources have little to say about Hellenistic sculpture compared with their coverage of the period down to ca. 300, and tell us perhaps even less about Hellenistic architecture, it was nevertheless Hellenistic, not Classical, techniques and style that formed the basis of most Roman ‘classicizing.’

18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

Conclusion 1 To borrow Humfry Payne’s words, Payne, 1936, 4. 2 Vitr. 7.Praef.11; Virg., Aen. 6.847–50, and cf. Hor., Epist. 2.1.156. 3 Vitr. 7.Praef.12 4 Plut., Per. 12–13. 5 Pollitt, 1965, contains 28 pages on architecture, compared with 103 on sculpture and 49 on painting. On the relative coverage of the three fields in modern handbooks see the Introduction above, 3. 6 Paus. 5.10.3 (Olympia), 8.41.9 (Bassai), 2.17.3 (Argos), 8.45.5 (Tegea). 7 IG IV.2.102 (Theodotos), I.2.24 (Kallikrates). 8 Compare the space devoted to architects and buildings by the Elder Pliny with his long sections on sculpture and painting. 9 Vitr. 7.Praef.17. 10 Pol. 1267b22–1269a28. 11 Vitr. 2.Praef.3. 12 De Or. 1.14.62; cf. Vitr. 7.Praef.12. 13 Vitr. 7.Praef.12–17. 14 Galen, DePlacHippocPlat. 5 (Muller p. 425) on ¨ Polykleitos; on Eupompos and Lysippos, see Pliny, NH 34.61 and 66. 15 Vitr. 4.3.1. 16 Vitr. 1.1.12–17. 17 Vitr. 7.5.5–6. Yet, pace Vitruvius, it may be questioned whether Apatourios’s architectural

29 30 31 32 33

34 35

36 37

ornament was so very different from that of the river-barge of Ptolemy IV Philopator, the description of which by Kallixeinos of Rhodes is preserved in Athenaeus Deipn. 204d–6c. See also above, 169, 175, in chapter 8, ‘Residential Architecture.’ Vitr. 10.16.4, 10. Vitr. 7.Praef.14. See chapter 4 by Fedak, ‘Tombs and Commemorative Monuments,’ 92–3. Burford, 1969, 138–45. Her. 3.60. Livy 33.9–34.16. See Diels/Schramm, Philo pl. 8, for drawings of this weapon. Plut. Per. 2. Lucian, Somn. 8–9. Plut. Pomp. 42. Hermodoros: Vitr. 3.2.5; first marble temple in Rome: Velleius Paterculus 1.11.8; temple only rebuilt by Hermodoros in the 130s: Richardson 1976, 60–4; Hermodoros and the temple of Mars near the Circus Flaminius: Nepos ap. Prisc. 8.17. On the round temple by the Tiber, see Heilmeyer, 1970, 34, 122–3; and on original columns and capitals of Pentelic marble, eleven of which were completely replaced in Luna marble ca. AD 50, see Claridge, 1998, 254–6. See above, 26 and note 159, and Downey, 1961, 102–3 (also Downey, 1963, 58). See above, 44–5, in chapter 2, ‘Entranceways,’ for Eleusis; also Price, 1968. See Lloyd, 1973. On Apollodoros and Hadrian, see Cass. Dio, RomHist. 69.4.1–5. Ward-Perkins, 1970, 237–44 (Forum of Trajan), 383– 4 (Odeion of Herodes), 395–7 and fig. 149 (agora and basilica at Smyrna), 388, 409 (Aspendos basilica), 392–3 (Traianeum), 392 and pl. 204 (Aizanoi), 409 and pl. 210 (Aspendos theatre), 417–23 and pls. 219–20 (Baalbek), 436–8 and pl. 226 (Jerash). Cf. Plommer, 1973, 14 note 1, on the Latin style of Vitruvius. Recorded in the French Exp´edition de Mor´ee, and reinvestigated by the Greek Service, Themelis, 1997, 93–100. Winter, 1971, 252–4 (gates), 88, 91, 190–1 (towers). Demosth. III (Olynthiac 3) 24–6.

Notes to pages 246–9 38 See Dinsmoor, 1950, 87 fig. 33, 88, on the temple at Assos; and Winter, 1976 and 1991, on the mixture of Ionic and Doric in Archaic Doric temples. 39 Adriani, 1963, 290–1. 40 Winter, 1966, 137 and note 41, pl. 38 fig. 28. 41 Nekyomanteion: Martin, 1973, 41 fig. 36; Letoon: ibid., 43 fig. 39; Assos: Winter, 1971, 252 fig. 282. 42 Winter, 1971, 232 fig. 245. 43 Cf. Orlandos, 1966, 67–9; Martin, 1965, 63–4. 44 Vitr. 2.4.1–2, 2.6.6. 45 Vitr. 2.8.19; a detailed discussion of baked bricks is found in 2.3. Vitruvius’s remarks on the effects of weather on inferior bricks might have been

46

47 48 49 50

329

written with the remnants of the brickwork of the Lykosoura temple in mind. Vitr. 5.1.6–10; these spans exceeded all definitely identified spans of the Hellenistic period, but fell far short of those of the contemporary Odeion of Agrippa at Athens. Lawrence, 1957, 294. As Classical Greek scholarship has been very prone to do. Adriani, 1963, 289. Grant, 1960, 340, commenting on the legacy of Rome.

This page intentionally left blank

ILLUSTRATIONS

This page intentionally left blank

Illustrations 333

Fig. 1 Priene, plan of the temple of Athena Polias (Hoepfner/Schwandner, Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 1990)

Fig. 2 Priene, temple and altar of Athena from the acropolis

Fig. 4a Priene, restored drawing of the NE corner of the Athena temple (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 3 Priene, remains of the entablature of the temple of Athena, now in Berlin

Fig. 4b Priene, restored drawing of the entablature of the Athena temple (Wiegand and Schrader, Priene, Georg Reimer, Berlin, 1904)

334 Illustrations

Fig. 5 Ephesos, plan of the Hellenistic Artemision and altar (Bammer, Die Architektur des jüngeren Artemision von Ephesos, F. Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1972)

Fig. 6 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, sculptured pedestal in the British Museum

Fig. 7 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, sculptured column drum in the British Museum

Fig. 8 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, restored drawing of corner (Krischen, Die griechische Stadt, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1938)

Illustrations 335

Fig. 10 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, fourth-century capital in the British Museum

Fig. 9 Ephesos, temple of Artemis, Hellenistic capital in the British Museum

Fig. 11 Ephesos, Hellenistic Artemision, restored drawing of entablature (Bammer, Die Architektur des jüngere Artemision von Ephesos, F. Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1972) Fig. 12 Thermon, plan of the sanctuary of Apollo (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

336 Illustrations

Fig. 13 Lykosoura, plan of the sanctuary of the Mistress (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 14 Lykosoura, temple of the Mistress from S

Fig. 15 Dodona plan of the sanctuary of Zeus and adjoining areas (Gruben, Die Tempel der Griechen, 3rd ed., Hirmer, Munich, 1980)

Fig. 16 Delos, plan, section and details of the Hall of the Bulls (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

Illustrations 337

Fig. 17 Delos, view of the Hall of the Bulls

Fig. 18 Delos, restored drawing of the Monument of Mithridates (Chapouthier, Exploration archéologique de Délos 16, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1935)

Fig. 19a Delphi, Monument of Aristaineta (Courby, Fouilles de Delphes 2, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1927)

Fig. 19b Delphi, Monuments of Prusias and Aemilius Paullus (Courby, Fouilles de Delphes 2, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1927)

Fig. 20 Kastabos, temple of Hemithea, schema of proportions (Cook/Plommer, The Sanctuary of Hemithea at Kastabos, Cambridge University Press, 1966)

338 Illustrations

Fig. 21 Klaros, general view of the temple of Apollo

Fig. 22 Klaros, temple of Apollo, transverse arches of the crypt

Fig. 23 Didyma, plan of Hellenistic temple of Apollo (Knackfuss, Didyma I, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1940)

Fig. 24 Didyma, temple of Apollo from the east

Illustrations 339

Fig. 26 Didyma, temple of Apollo, cross-section of the E end of the interior court (Knackfuss, Didyma I, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1940)

Fig. 25 Didyma, temple of Apollo, view of the interior court from the west

Fig. 27 Didyma, temple of Apollo, vault of tunnel from pronaos to interior court

Fig. 28 Didyma, drawing of Corinthian half-capital from E facade of interior court (Dinsmoor, Architecture of Ancient Greece, Batsford, London, 1950)

340 Illustrations

Fig. 30a Lindos, temple of Athena Lindia, drawing of the facade (Dyggve, Lindos III, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1960)

Fig. 29 Lindos, general plan of the sanctuary of Athena Lindia (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976) Fig. 30b Lindos, temple of Athena Lindia, partially rebuilt facade (Dyggve, Lindos III, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1960)

Fig. 31 Samothrace, Hieron of the Great Gods, external view of the apse

Fig. 32 Teos, plan of the temple and precinct of Dionysos (Mustafa Uz, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 1990)

Illustrations 341 Fig. 33 Messa, plan of the temple of Aphrodite (Hoepfner, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 1990)

Fig. 34 Messa, view of the temple of Aphrodite

Fig. 35 Messa, Ionic order of the temple of Aphrodite (Koldcewey, Die antiken Baureste der Insel Lesbos, Georg Reimer, Berlin, 1890)

Fig. 36 Chryse, plan of the Smintheion (Hoepfner, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 1990)

342 Illustrations

Fig. 38 Chryse, sculptured top column-drum of the Smintheion

Fig. 37 Chryse, Ionic order of the Smintheion restored (Society of Dilettanti, Antiquities of Ionia 4)

Fig. 39 Chryse, drawing of an Ionic capital of the Smintheion (Antiquities of Ionia 4)

Fig. 40 Magnesia, plan of the temple of Artemis Leukophryene (Hoepfner, in Hermogenes und die hochhellenistische Architektur, Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 1990)

Illustrations 343

Fig. 41 Magnesia, temple of Artemis Leukophryene, view of ruins from NW Fig. 42 Magnesia, drawing of the Ionic order of the temple of Artemis (Humann, Magnesia am Mäander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904)

Fig. 43 Magnesia, remains of the entablature of the temple of Artemis, now in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin

Fig. 44 Magnesia, temple of Artemis, group of Ionic capitals still on the site

344 Illustrations

Fig. 46 Sardis, temple of Artemis from E

Fig. 45 Sardis, temple of Artemis, three successive plans (Gruben, AthMitt 76 [1961])

Fig. 47 Sardis, Artemision, opisthodomos from SW and detail of column on pedestal

Fig. 48a Sardis, Hellenistic capital of the Artemision Fig. 48b Sardis, capitals of the standing eastern columns of the Artemision

Illustrations 345

Fig. 49 Alabanda, remains of the Doric temple

Fig. 50 Akragas, temple of Asklepios

Figs. 51–2 Paestum, details of the order of the ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple

346 Illustrations

Fig. 53 Labraynda, view of the sanctuary of Zeus from above

Fig. 54 Alexandria, plan and drawing of the Cape Zephyrion peripteros (Ceccaldi, RevArch 19 [1869])

Fig. 55 Letoon near Xanthos, general plan of the sanctuary (Le Roy, RevArch 1974)

Fig. 56 Xanthos, the Nereid Monument reconstructed in the British Museum

Illustrations 347

Fig. 57 Letoon near Xanthos, Buildings E (right) and A (left) from SE

Fig. 58 Letoon near Xanthos, Building A from NE

Fig. 59 Letoon near Xanthos, Building B from N

Fig. 60 Letoon near Xanthos, Building E from N

348 Illustrations

Fig. 62 Amyzon, remains of the temple

Fig. 61 Amyzon, plan of the sanctuary of Apollo and Artemis (Robert, Fouilles d’Amyzon, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1983)

Fig. 63 Letoon near Xanthos, vaulted entrance to the theatre

Fig. 64 Alexandria, restored plan of the ancient city (Alexandrien: Aegyptiaca Treverensia I)

Illustrations 349

Fig. 65 Alexandria, plan of the excavated portion of the Sarapeion (Rowe/Drioton, Discovery of the Famous Temple and Enclosure of Serapis, L’Institut français d’archéologie orientale, Supplément aux Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte 2, Cairo, 1946)

Fig. 66 Megalopolis, plan of the sanctuary of Zeus Soter (Gardner, Excavations at Megalopolis, Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies, London, 1892}

Fig. 67 Pergamon, the sanctuary of Demeter from above

Fig. 68 Pergamon, sanctuary of Demeter, plan and restored drawing (displayed on site-plaque, Pergamon)

350 Illustrations

Fig. 69 Pergamon, detail of model in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin, showing the sanctuary of Athena and the Library, with the palaces beyond

Fig. 70a Pergamon, restored drawing of the Athena temple and terrace as seen from the theatre terrace (Altertümer von Pergamon I, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1885)

Fig. 70b Pergamon, view of the temple of Athena from the upper storey of the East Stoa of the precinct

Fig. 71 Pergamon, propylon of the Athena sanctuary, restored in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin

Fig. 72 Pergamon, restored drawing of the stoas of the sanctuary of Athena (Altertümer von Pergamon II, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin)

Illustrations 351

Fig. 73 Kos, Asklepieion, view to N from the new Doric temple on the uppermost terrace

Fig. 74 Kos, Asklepieion, restored drawing of the new Doric temple (Schazmann, Kos I, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Berlin, 1932)

Fig. 75 Lindos, sanctuary of Athena, view from the propylaia of the Athena temple toward the entrance of the Great Harbour

Fig. 76 Lindos, model of the sanctuary of Athena from the NE (Dyggve, Lindos III, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1960)

352 Illustrations Fig. 77 Olympia, general plan of the sanctuary of Zeus and surroundings (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

Fig. 78 Olympia, model in the Olympia Museum of the Altis of Zeus and surrounding structures

Fig. 79 Priene, plan of the temple, altar, and propylon of Athena Polias (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

Fig. 80 Priene, Roman Ionic capital from the propylon of Athena Polias, now in the British Museum

Illustrations 353

Fig. 81 Magnesia, plan and elevation of the propylon from the agora to the precinct of Artemis Leukophryene (Humann, Magnesia am Mäander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904)

Fig. 82 Kos, Asklepieion, restored view (Schazmann, Kos I, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Berlin, 1932)

Fig. 83 Ephesos, plan, elevation, and section of the altar of the new Artemision (Bammer, Das Heiligtum der Artemis von Ephesos, Akademische Druck- und Verlaganstalt, Graz, 1984) Fig. 84 Pergamon, plan of the Great Altar of Zeus (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

354 Illustrations

Fig. 85 Pergamon, facade of the Altar of Zeus rebuilt in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin

Fig. 86a Priene, restored view of the altar of Athena, from the NE corner of the temple (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 86b Priene, restored rear elevation of the altar of Athena (Wiegand and Schrader, Priene, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904)

Fig. 87 Magnesia, restored plan of the altar of Artemis Leukophryene (von Gerkan, Der Altar des Artemistempels in Magnesia am Mäander, Schutz, Berlin, 1929)

Fig. 88 Magnesia, elevation of the altar of Artemis Leukophryene (von Gerkan, Der Altar des Artemistempels in Magnesia am Mäander, Schutz, Berlin, 1929)

Fig. 89 Cosa, restored drawing of the temples on the Arx (Brown, Cosa 2, American Academy in Rome, 1960)

Illustrations 355

Fig. 90 Praeneste, model of the sanctuary of Fortuna Primigenia in the Palestrina Museum

Fig. 91 Tivoli, restored drawing of the sanctuary of Hercules Victor (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Fig. 93 Tivoli, actual-state and restored plans of the temples above the Anio gorge (Delbrück, Hellenistische Bauten in Latium, K.J. Trübner, Strassburg, 1907–12)

Fig. 92 Terracina, model of the sanctuary of Jupiter Anxur (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

356 Illustrations

Fig. 94 Tivoli, view of the temples above the Anio

Fig. 95 Terracina, view from the harbour to the terrace of the temple of Jupiter

Fig. 96 Hermopolis Magna, Hellenistic Corinthian capital (Wace/Megaw/Skeat, Hermopolis Magna, Ashmunein, Alexandria, 1959)

Fig. 97 Uzuncaburç, plan of the temple of Zeus Olbios (Keil/ Wilhelm, Denkmäler aus dem rauhen Kilikien, Manchester University Press, 1931)

Illustrations 357

Fig. 98 Uzuncaburç, view of the remains of the temple of Zeus Olbios

Fig. 99 Uzuncaburç, Corinthian capital of the temple of Zeus Olbios

Fig. 100 Athens, plan of the Olympieion (Welter, AthMitt 37 [1922])

Fig. 101 Athens, the Olympieion from the SE

358 Illustrations

Fig. 102 Athens, Olympieion, detail of two standing capitals

Fig. 103 Athens, Olympieion capital drawn by Penrose

Fig. 104 Epidauros, plan of Temple L near the sanctuary of Asklepios (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1961)

Fig. 105 Epidauros, restored flank elevation of Temple L (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1961)

Illustrations 359

Fig. 106 Knidos, view of round temple attributed to Aphrodite by the excavator

Fig. 107 Knidos, restoration of round temple attributed to Aphrodite by the excavator (Love, AJA 76 [1972])

Fig. 108 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, general plan (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1961)

Fig. 109 Assos, corbelled gate in the city wall

360 Illustrations

Fig. 110 Assos, corbel arch of the main gate of the city, as drawn in 1845 (Conybeare and Howson, Life and Epistles of St. Paul, Longmans, Green, London, 1889)

Fig. 112 Assos, general plan of the site (fig. 109 at 2, fig. 113 at 4–9, figs. 322–3 at 9) (Akurgal, Ancient Civilisations and Ruins of Turkey, Hachette, Istanbul, 1973)

Fig. 111 Syracuse, drawing of the western gate of Epipolai (Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeii, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1941)

Fig. 113 Assos, plan and restoration of the Hellenistic agora (Clarke, Bacon, and Koldewey, Investigations at Assos, Archaeological Institute of America, Cambridge, 1902–21)

Illustrations 361

Fig. 114 Priene, model of the central part of the city (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 115 Priene, general plan of the site (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 116 Aigai in Aiolis, the ruins of the market-building

Fig. 117 Aigai, plan of the agora (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 118 Alinda, the agora and market stoa from above to NW

Fig. 119 Alinda, plan of the agora (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

362 Illustrations

Fig. 120 Priene, plan of the agora (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 121 Priene, drawing of the SE entrance to the agora (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 123 Magnesia, proposed restoration, with fountain, of the S end of the W stoa of the agora (Humann, Magnesia am Mäander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904) Fig. 122 Priene, view to the W from the NE entrance to the agora

Fig. 124 Athens, plan of the agora in the later second century (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1971)

Fig. 125 Athens, the Gate of Athena Archegetis

Illustrations 363

Fig. 126 Athens, restored view of the agora from the NW in the Roman period (courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens)

Fig. 127 Athens, foundations W of the Stoa Poikile in the agora, restored as an arched gateway with commemorative statues (Camp, The Athenian Agora, Thames and Hudson, London, 1986)

Fig. 128 Miletos, model of the harbour and agora areas of the city, in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin

Fig. 129 Kalydon, plan and restored drawing of the Heroon (Dyggve/Poulsen/Rhomaios, Das Heroon von Kalydon, Copenhagen, 1934)

364 Illustrations

Fig. 130 Pergamon, plan of the entrances to the middle and lower gymnasium terraces (Akurgal, Ancient Civilisations and Ruins of Turkey, Hachette, Istanbul,

Fig. 131 Olympia, restored plan and elevation of the gate to the stadium (Büsing, Die griechische Halbsäule, Franz Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1970)

Fig. 132 Athens, model of the W side of the agora (courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens)

Fig. 133 Samothrace, plan of the Ptolemaion (Frazer, Samothrace 10, Princeton, 1990)

Illustrations 365

Fig. 134 Samothrace, restored drawing of the E facade of the Ptolemaion (Frazer, Samothrace 10, Princeton, 1990)

Fig. 135 Samothrace, S elevation of the Ptolemaion, with the vaulted tunnel beneath (Frazer, Samothrace 10, Princeton, 1990)

Fig. 136 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, plan of the North Propylaia (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1961)

Fig. 137 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, view of the North Propylaia

366 Illustrations

Fig. 139 Eleusis, model of the sanctuary showing the Greater Propylaia, in the foreground, with the Lesser Propylaia near centre of picture (Travlos, Bildlexikon zur Topographiedes antiken Attika, Wasmuth, Tübingen, 1988)

Fig. 138 Samothrace, vaulted tunnel beneath the Ptolemaion

Fig. 140 Eleusis, plan of the Greater (right) and Lesser (left) Propylaia (Noack, Eleusis, die baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des Heiligtum, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1927)

Fig. 141 Eleusis, restored drawing of the outer facade of the Lesser Propylaia (Hörmann, Die inneren Propyläen von Eleusis, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1927)

Illustrations 367

Fig. 142 Delos, model showing the processional way (at bottom) leading to the entrance to the sanctuary (at top) (École française d’Athènes, L’espace grec, École française d’Athènes, 1996)

Fig. 143 Pergamon, entrance to the Library, rebuilt in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin

Fig. 144 Alinda, detail of composite piers in the basement of the market stoa

Fig. 145 Athens, Stoa of Attalos II, upper interior and exterior colonnades

368 Illustrations

Fig. 146 Perachora, plan of the harbour area, with the L-shaped stoa (1) at the right (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 147 Delphi, view of the sanctuary of Apollo from above

Fig. 148 Argive Heraion, general plan showing the location of the stoas (Waldstein, The Argive Heraeum I, Houghton Mifflin, Boston, 1902)

Fig. 149 Delphi, Stoa of the Athenians from the W

Illustrations 369

Fig. 150 Athens, agora, restored plan and facade elevation of the Stoa of Zeus (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1970)

Fig. 151 Athens, agora, South Stoa I, restored plan as rooms for public dining (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1970)

Fig. 152 Athens, restored view of S side of Acropolis from the SW

Fig. 153 Delos, plan of the sanctuary and agora with the Processional Way from the harbour (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

370 Illustrations

Fig. 155 Megalopolis, detail plan of the W end of the Stoa of Philip (Gardner, Excavations at Megalopolis, Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies, London, 1892)

Fig. 154 Pergamon, plan of the Upper Agora and the Altar precinct (detail from Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, Hachette, Istanbul, 1973)

Fig. 156 Megalopolis, general plan of the Stoa of Philip (no. 2) (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976) Fig. 157 Corinth, South Stoa, plan, elevation, and stylobate and toichobate curvatures (Broneer, Corinth I Part IV: The South Stoa, Princeton, 1954, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at

Illustrations 371

Fig. 158 Corinth, cross-section of the South Stoa (Broneer, Corinth I Part IV: The South Stoa, Princeton, 1954, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) Fig. 159 Corinth, cutaway restoration of the South Stoa (Broneer, Corinth I Part IV: The South Stoa Princeton, 1954, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens)

Fig. 161 Athens, plan of the Stoa in the Asklepieion (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1970)

Fig. 160 Priene, agora, restored drawing of the W end of the North Stoa (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 162 Athens, Asklepieion, restored sections of the Doric stoa and the Sacred Pit (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1970)

372 Illustrations

Fig. 163 Athens, agora, the rebuilt Stoa of Attalos II from the NW (courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens)

Fig. 164a Herakleia-under-Latmos, plan of the agora area (Krischen, Antike Rathäuser, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1941)

Fig. 164b Herakleia-under-Latmos, basement levels of the South Stoa of the agora

Fig. 165 Delos, Agora of the Italians, two-storeyed stoa restored (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Illustrations 373

Fig. 167 Miletos, plan of North and South Agoras ca. 150 (Wycherley, How the Greeks Built Cities, MacMillan, London, 1949)

Fig. 166 Miletos, plan of North Agora and Harbour Stoa ca. 300 (Wycherley, How the Greeks Built Cities, MacMillan, London, 1949)

Fig. 168 Mamurt Kale, plan of the sanctuary (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 169 Pergamon, SW corner of Lower Agora, details of plan, elevation, and section (Dörpfeld, AthMitt 27 [1902])

374 Illustrations

Fig. 171 Doura Europos, restored view of the agora buildings (Ward-Perkins, Cities of Ancient Greece and Italy, George Braziller, New York, 1974)

Fig. 170 Elis, plan of the excavated agora buildings (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 173 Olympia, Corinthian capital from the interior of the South Stoa (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972) Fig. 172 Athens, agora, model with South Square, Middle Stoa, and South Stoa II (Camp, The Athenian Agora, Thames and Hudson, London, 1986)

Illustrations 375

Fig. 174 Messene, figured Corinthian capital of Asklepieion stoas

Fig. 175 Athens, agora, interior of the lower floor of the Stoa of Attalos II

Fig. 176 Priene, agora, restored drawing of the interior of the North Stoa (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 177 Priene, agora, restored plan and drawing of central portion of the South Stoa facade (Wiegand and Schrader, Priene, Georg Reimer, Berlin, 1904)

376 Illustrations

Fig. 178 Magnesia, Ionic bull-capital from corner column of the interior colonnade of the ∏-shaped stoa of the agora (Humann, Magnesia am Mäander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904)

Fig. 179 Delos, detail plan of the interior columns of the Hypostyle Hall at capital level (after Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Fig. 180 Athens, agora, upper interior columns of the Stoa of Attalos

Fig. 181 Delos, Stoa of Antigonos, detail of the entablature

Illustrations 377

Fig. 182 Cori temple, detail of Doric entablature

Fig. 184 Miletos, Harbour Stoa, with bottom drum of cordiform pier at lower left

Fig. 183 Miletos, Harbour Stoa, plan and elevation of cordiform pier (Büsing, Die griechische Halbsäule, Franz Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1970)

Fig. 186 Istanbul Museum, Sarcophagus of the Mourning Women

Fig. 185 Athens, choregic monument of Lysikrates

378 Illustrations

Fig. 187 Delphi, plan of the Tholos in the Marmariá (Juko Ito, New Measurements and Observations on ... the Tholos in the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia at Delphi, Kyushu University Press, Japan, 2004)

Fig. 188 Delphi, view of the Tholos from the NE

Fig. 189 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, plan of the Tholos (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed., Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

Fig. 191 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, Corinthian capital from the Tholos

Fig. 190 Epidauros, sanctuary of Asklepios, crosssection of the Tholos colonnades (Roux, L’architecture de l’Argolide, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1961)

Illustrations 379

Fig. 192 Olympia, plan of the Philippeion (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972)

Fig. 193 Olympia, Philippeion, cross-section through outer colonnade and cella wall (Büsing, Die griechische Halbsäule, Franz Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1970

Fig. 194 Samothrace, the foundations of the Arsinoeion

Fig. 195 Samothrace, extrerior elevation of the Arsinoeion (McCredie, Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, Princeton, 1992)

380 Illustrations

Fig. 196 Samothrace, cross-section of the Arsinoeion (McCredie, Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, Princeton, 1992) Fig. 197 Samothrace, restored drawing of a Corinthian capital from the Arsinoeion (McCredie, Samothrace 7: The Rotunda of Arsinoe, Princeton, 1992)

Fig. 198 Limyra, restoration of the facade of the Heroon (Borchhardt, Die Bauskulptur des Heroons von Limyra, IstForsch 30, Berlin 1976)

Fig. 199 Halikarnassos, plan of the preserved foundations of the Mausoleum (Jeppesen, IstMitt 26 [1976])

Illustrations 381

Fig. 200 Halikarnassos, restoration of the Mausoleum (Susan Bird, in Linders/Hellström, Architecture and Society in Hecatomnid Caria, Uppsala, 1989)

Fig. 201 Halikarnassos, restoration of the Mausoleum by Jeppesen (The Mausolleion at Halikarnassos 5, Jutland Archaeological Society, Höjbjerg, 2002)

Fig. 202 Knidos, standing remains of the Lion Tomb Fig. 203 Knidos, plans, section, and elevations of the Lion Tomb (Fletcher, A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method, 13th ed. Batsford, London, 1946)

382 Illustrations

Fig. 205 Belevi, remains of the great mausoleum

Fig. 204 Amphipolis, the restored Lion Monument

Fig. 206 Belevi Mausoleum, Corinthian capital in the courtyard of the Ephesos Museum

Fig. 207 Belevi Mausoleum, restored drawing (Praschniker, Forschungen in Ephesos 6: Das Mausoleum von Belevi, Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut, Vienna, 1979)

Illustrations 383

Fig. 208 Rhodes, ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies’ at Rhodini

Fig. 209 Kos, the Charmyleion at Pyrgi, restored drawing of the facade (Schazmann, JdI 49 [1934])

Fig. 211 Lindos, view of the Archokrateion

Fig. 210 Kos, plan and section of the basement of the Charmyleion (Schazmann, JdI 49 [1934])

384 Illustrations

Fig. 212 Lindos, restored drawing of the facade of the Archokrateion (Dyggve, Lindos III.2, W. de Gruyter, Berlin and Copenhagen, 1960)

Fig. 213 Ta Marmara near Miletos, restored drawing of the Heroon (Wiegand, ArchAnz [1902])

Fig. 214 Telmessos, Tomb of Amyntas

Fig. 215 Vergina, facade of the ‘Rhomaios Tomb’

Illustrations 385

Fig. 216 Vergina, detail of the entablature of the ‘Rhomaios tomb’

Fig. 217 Lefkadhia, plan of the Great Tomb (Petsas, O taphos ton Leukadion, Archaeological Society of Athens, Athens, 1966)

Fig. 218 Lefkadhia, restoration of the facade of the Great Tomb (Petsas, O taphos ton Leukadion, pl. 1, Archaeological Society of Athens, Athens, 1966)

Fig. 219 Alexandria, interior of the Alabaster Tomb

386 Illustrations

Fig. 220 Alexandria, plan of the Shatbi tomb (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1990) Fig. 221 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb I (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1990)

Fig. 222 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb III (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1990) Fig. 223 Alexandria, Mustafa Pasha Tomb III, main facade of court

Fig. 224 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb IV (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1990)

Fig. 225 Alexandria, plan of Mustafa Pasha Tomb II (Fedak, Monumental Tombs of the of the Hellenistic Age, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1990)

Illustrations 387

Fig. 226 Alexandria, the Pharos restored (Thiersch, Pharos, antike Islam und Occident, Teubner, Leipzig and Berlin, 1909)

Fig. 228 Dougga, tomb of Ateban (Poinssot, Les ruines de Dougga, Institut National du Patrimoine, Tunis, 1958)

Fig. 227 Sabratha, restored drawing of Mausoleum B (di Vita, RömMitt 83 [1976])

Fig. 229 Akragas, ‘Tomb of Theron’

388 Illustrations

Fig. 230 Model of the Kbour-er-Roumia stone tumulus (Horn/Rüger, Die Numider, Rudolf Habelt, Bonn, 1979)

Fig. 231 St Rémy-de-Provence, Monument of the Julii

Fig. 232 Athens, plan of the precinct and theatre of Dionysos (Dörpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Athens, 1896)

Fig. 233 Athens, plan of the Odeion of Perikles, with the retaining wall of the theatre auditorium built around the NW corner (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1970)

Illustrations 389

Fig. 234 Naples, terracotta plaque showing a twostoreyed stagehouse facade (Fiechter, Die baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des antiken Theaters, Back, Munich, 1914)

Fig. 236 Megalopolis, plan of the theatre and Thersilion (Bieber, Denkmäler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1920)

Fig. 235 Athens, Theatre of Dionysos, Fiechter’s restoration of the provision for a backdrop to the early orchestra (Fiechter, Antike griechische Theaterbauten: Das Dionysos-Theater in Athen, Kohlhammer, Stuttgart, 1935–6)

Fig. 237 Delos, view of the orchestra and remains of the stagehouse of the Hellenistic theatre

390 Illustrations

Fig. 239 Pergamon, view of the theatre from the N

Fig. 238 Delos, plan of the theatre and restoration of the stone skene (Dörpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Athens, 1896)

Fig. 241 Athens, theatre of Dionysos, section of the Lykourgan stagehouse

Fig. 240 Pergamon, suggested plan of removable wooden stagehouse (Dörpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Athens, 1896)

Illustrations 391

Fig. 242 Thasos, plan of the theatre (École française d’Athènes, Guide de Thasos Paris, 1968)

Fig. 243 Thasos, theatre, restored drawing of the proskenion facade and detail of dedicatory inscription (École française d’Athènes, Guide de Thasos, Paris, 1968)

Fig. 244 Oropos, view of the rebuilt proskenion of the theatre

Fig. 246 Oropos, restored drawing of the orchestra and stagehouse (Fiechter, Antike griechische Theaterbauter: Das Theater in Oropos, Kohlhammer, Stuttgart, 1930)

Fig. 245 Oropos, plan of the orchestra and stagehouse of the theatre (Fiechter, Baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des antiken Theaters, Back, Munich, 1914)

392 Illustrations

Fig. 247 Peiraieus, plan of the theatre (Dörpfeld/Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Athens, 1896)

Fig. 250a Trachones, Attika, plan of the small demetheatre (Pöhlmann, Studien zur Bühnendichtung und zum Theaterbau der Antike, Peter Lang, Frankfurt am

Fig. 248 Epidauros, view of the theatre with modern stagehouse (1965)

Fig. 250b Trachones, view from the stagehouse to the orchestra and auditorium (Pöhlmann, Studien zur Bühnendichtung und zum Theaterbau der Antike, Peter Lang, Frankfurt am Main, 1995)

Fig. 249 Epidauros, plan of the theatre (Bieber, Denkmäler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1920)

Illustrations 393

Fig. 251 Priene, restored drawing of the theatre (A. von Gerkan, Das Theater von Priene, Schmidt, Munich, 1921)

Fig. 252 Epidauros, plan of the first stagehouse (von Gerkan/Muller-Wiener, Das Theater von Epidauros, Kohlhammer, Stuttgart, 1961)

Fig. 253 Priene, view of the theatre from the acropolis

Fig. 254 Priene, view of the rebuilt proskenion and the remains of the stagehouse

394 Illustrations

Fig. 255 Naples, mosaic with a scene from a play of Menander (Bieber, Denkmäler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1920)

Fig. 257 Tyndaris, theatre, model of the stagehouse (Courtois, Le bâtiment de scène des théâtres d’Italie et de Sicile, Brown University, Art and Archaeology Publications, Providence, 1989)

Fig. 256 Naples, Roman relief with a scene from New Comedy (Bieber, Denkmäler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1920)

Fig. 258 Segesta, view of the orchestra and stagehouse of the theatre

Illustrations 395

Fig. 259 Segesta, restoration of the theatre and stagehouse (Bulle, ‘Untersuchungen an griechischen Theatern,’ Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, AbhMünchen 33 [1928])

Fig. 260 Olympia, view of the stadium from SW to NE

Fig. 261 Olympia, vaulted entrance to the stadium

Fig. 262 Nemea, drawing of the stadium end of the vaulted entrance-passage (Miller, ed., Nemea: A Guide to the Site and the Museum, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1990)

Fig. 263 Miletos, Hellenistic vault under rising tiers of seats at E end of the stadium

396 Illustrations

Fig. 264 Epidauros, plan of the middle portion of the stadium with the vaulted entrance passage under the seats (Patrucco, Lo stadio di Epidauro, Olschki, Firenze, 1976)

Fig. 265 Athens, the Panathenaic Stadium as rebuilt for the 1896 Olympiad

Fig. 267 Priene, restored drawing of Lower Gymnasium and W end of the stadium (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 266 Delphi, view of the stadium from the W

Illustrations 397

Fig. 268 Perge, the stadium from SSW

Fig. 269 Perge, ramping vaults on the W side of the stadium

Fig. 270 Argive Heraion, plan of the West Building (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 271 Athens, plan of the W end of the Acropolis, showing the sanctuary of Artemis Brauronia and the Chalkotheke (Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens, Thames and Hudson, London, 1970)

Fig. 272 Brauron, sanctuary of Artemis, plan of the courtyard (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

398 Illustrations

Fig. 273 Buruncuk (Larisa in Aiolis?), plan of the later palace on the acropolis (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, Harmondsworth, Pelican History of Art, 1957)

Fig. 274 Delos, plan of the gymnasium and stadium (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Fig. 275 Delos, plan of the gymnasium (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Illustrations 399

Fig. 276a Delphi, gymnasium, original plan (below) and complex after addition of xystos/dromos and bath (above) (Delorme, Gymnasion, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1960)

Fig. 276b Delphi, detail plan of the palaistra and loutron (Delorme, Gymnasion, E. de Boccard, Paris, 1960)

Fig. 277 Delphi, view of the palaistra complex from the Phaidriades

Fig. 278 Delphi, lower terrace of the gymnasium, with bathbasins and circular cold plunge in middle distance and the palaistra beyond

400 Illustrations

Fig. 279 Delphi, cold pool of the gymnasium

Fig. 280 Sikyon, plan of the gymnasium (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 281 Sikyon, restored drawing of a fountain on the lower terrace of the gymnasium (Glaser, KPHNAI, Oesterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Vienna, 1983) Fig. 282 Epidauros, plan of the ‘palaistra’ (Dinsmoor, Architecture of Ancient Greece, London, Batsford, 1950)

Illustrations 401

Fig. 284 Priene, washtubs in situ in the loutron (bath) of the Lower Gymnasium

Fig. 283 Priene, plan of the Lower Gymnasium (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 285 Priene, restored drawing of the ‘schoolroom’ of the Lower Gymnasium (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964) Fig. 286 Priene, boys’ names carved on the walls of the ‘schoolroom’ (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

402 Illustrations

Fig. 288 Amphipolis, the gymnasium site from the N

Fig. 287 Amphipolis, plan of the Hellenistic gymnasium (K. Lazarides, Praktika [1989])

Fig. 290 Miletos, plan of the Hellenistic palaistra on the avenue leading to the harbour (Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, Hachette, Istanbul, 1973)

Fig. 289 Miletos, plan of the stadium area (detail plan of stadium area from general plan in Kleiner, Die Ruinen von Milet, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1968) Fig. 291 Miletos, restored drawing of the Hellenistic palaistra (von Gerkan, Milet I.9, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1922)

Illustrations 403

Fig. 293 Eretria, plan of the Lower Gymnasium (Auberson/Schefold, Führer durch Eretria, Francke, Bern, 1972)

Fig. 292 Eretria, plan of the Upper Gymnasium (Auberson/Schefold, Führer durch Eretria, Francke, Bern, 1972)

Fig. 295 Pergamon, restoration of the Great Gymnasium (Schazmann, Altertümer von Pergamon 6: Das Gymnasium, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1923) Fig. 294 Pergamon, plan of the Great Gymnasium (Schazmann, Altertümer von Pergamon 6: Das Gymnasium, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1923)

404 Illustrations

Fig. 296 Pergamon, Upper Gymnasium, the sunken xystos

Fig. 297a Olympia, plan of the palaistra (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972)

Fig. 298 Olympia, SE quadrant of the gymnasium from the NW

Fig. 299 Olympia, view of the palaistra from the SW

Fig. 297b Olympia, restored view of the gymnasium and the palaistra (Carbonnières, Olympie: Victoire pour les dieux, CNRS, Paris, 1995)

Illustrations 405

Fig. 300 Olympia, NW propylon of the palaistra (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972)

Fig. 301a A suggested plan for the ‘Greek palaistra’ of Vitruvius (Morgan, Vitruvius, Dover, New York, 1960)

Fig. 301b Another version of the ‘Greek palaistra’ of Vitruvius (P. Gros, De Architectura, following Birnbaum, Italian ed. Einaudi, Torino, 1997)

Fig. 302a Gortys in Arkadia, general plan of the Asklepieion with the temple of Asklepios in the centre and the bath-building at the lower left (Ginouvès, L’établissement thermal de Gortys d’Arcadie, Librairie philosophique J. Vrin, Paris, 1959)

Fig. 302b Gortys, plan of the bath-building (Ginouvès, L’établissement thermal de Gortys d’Arcadie, Librairie philosophique J. Vrin, Paris, 1959)

Fig. 303 Gortys, general view of the bath-building

406 Illustrations

Fig. 304 Olympia, plan of the Greek Bath, all periods (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972)

Figs. 306–7 Olympia, drawings of the Greek Bath, Period III (top) and the ‘Greek hypocaust’ (below) (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972)

Fig. 305 Olympia, plan of the Greek Bath and vicinity ca. 400 (Mallwitz, Olympia und seine Bauten, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, 1972)

Illustrations 407

Fig. 309 Megalopolis, view of the Thersilion from the theatre

Fig. 308 Eleusis, plans of successive Telesteria (Travlos, EphArch [1950–1])

Fig. 311 Messene, model of the Asklepieion (Papachatzis, Pausaniou Ellados Periegesis 3, Ekdotike Athenon, Athens, 1979)

Fig. 310 Megalopolis, remains of the Thersilion with the theatre in the background

408 Illustrations

Fig. 312 Priene, plan of the Assembly Hall and restored drawing of the interior (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964) Fig. 313 Priene, view from the acropolis, with the Assembly Hall and Prytaneion at lower left

Fig. 315 Delos, cross-section of the Hypostyle Hall (after Vallois/Poulsen, Exploration archéologiqque de Délos 2 Complément, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1914) Fig. 314 Delos, plan of the Hypostyle Hall (Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Illustrations 409

Fig. 316 Lousoi, plan of the sanctuary of Artemis, with the temple (H) and Council-house (D) (ÖJh [1901])

Fig. 317 Herakleia-under-Latmos, SE corner of the Council-house

Fig. 318 Herakleia-under-Latmos, N-S section of the Council-house (Krischen, Antike Rathäuser, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1941)

Fig. 319 Herakleia-under-Latmos, plan of the Councilhouse (Krischen, Antike Rathäuser, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1941)

410 Illustrations

Fig. 320 Sikyon, plan of the Council-house (McDonald, The Political Meeting-Places of the Greeks, Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 1943)

Fig. 321 Notion, plan of the Council-house (McDonald, The Political Meeting-Places of the Greeks, Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 1943)

Fig. 323 Assos, restored interior view of the Council-house Fig. 322 Assos, plan of the Council-house

Fig. 324 Miletos, plan of the Council-house (Kleiner, Die Ruinen von Milet, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1968)

Fig. 325 Miletos, cross-section of the Council chamber (Izenour, Roofed Theatres of Classical Antiquity, Yale University Press, New Haven and London, 1992)

Illustrations 411

Fig. 326 Miletos, ‘Doric’ half-column capital from the Council-house

Fig. 327 Termessos, plan of the Council-house (Krischen, Antike Rathäuser, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1941)

Fig. 328 Termessos, view of the Council-house from the NW

Fig. 330 Termessos, restoration of E wall of Councilhouse (Krischen, Antike Rathäuser, Gebr. Mann, Berlin, 1941)

Fig. 329 Termessos, S wall of Council-house with windows

412 Illustrations

Fig. 331 Alabanda, plan of the Council-house, with suggested arrangement of seats and interior supports

Fig. 333a Peiraieus, cutaway section of the Arsenal of Philo (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, Pelican History of Art, Harmondsworth, 1957)

Fig. 333b Peiraieus, plans, exterior elevation, and longtitudinal section of the Arsenal (Jeppesen, Paradeigmata, Aarhus University Press, 1957)

Fig. 332 Alabanda, exterior of the Council-house from the S

Fig. 334 Pergamon, plan of the Hellenistic arsenals on the acropolis (von Szalay/Boehringer, Altertümer von Pergamon 10: Die hellenistische Arsenale, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1937)

Fig. 335 Pergamon, detail of model in the Pergamon Museum showing the Hellenistic arsenals

Illustrations 413

Fig. 337 Corbridge, England, restoration of granary buildings Fig. 336 Pergamon, restored drawings of an acropolis arsenal (von Szalay/Boehringer, Altertümer von Pergamon 10: Die hellenistische Arsenale, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1937)

Fig. 339 Miletos, restored drawing of the S end of the agora storehouse (Büsing, Die griechische Halbsäule, Franz Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1970)

Fig. 338 Thasos, plan of the agora (École française d’Athènes, Guide de Thasos, Paris, 1968) Fig. 340 Pompeii, plan of the Villa dei Misteri (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, Penguin, London, 1971)

414 Illustrations

Fig. 341 Ptolemais, plan of the Palazzo delle Colonne (Lyttelton, Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity, Thames and Hudson, London, 1974)

Fig. 342 Ptolemais, axonometric restoration of the Palazzo delle Colonne (Boethius/Ward-Perkins, Etruscan and Roman Architecture, Harmondsworth, 1970)

Fig. 343 Pella, plan of house blocks in the lower city (Petsas, Pella, Alexander the Great’s Capital, Institute for Balkan Studies, Thessalonike, 1966)

Fig. 344 Samos, plan of the Kastro villa in Hellenistic times (Tölle-Kastenbein, Samos 14: Die Kastro Tigani, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, 1974)

Illustrations 415

Fig. 346 Delos, general view of the House of the Hermes

Fig. 345 Eretria, plan of houses inside the W walls (Ducrey/Metzger/Reber, Eretria VIII: Le quartier de la Maison aux Mosaiques, Éditions Payot, Lausanne, 1993)

Fig. 347a Delos, House of the Hermes, plans of the two lower storeys (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Fig. 348 Vergina, plan of the Hellenistic palace (Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Ekdotike Athenon, Athens, 1979)

Fig. 347b Delos, House of the Hermes, plans of the two upper storeys (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Fig. 349 Vergina, airview of the Hellenistic palace from the NE (Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Ekdotike Athenon, Athens, 1979)

416 Illustrations

Fig. 350a Pella, plan of the palace on the acropolis (Nielsen, Hellenistic Palaces, 1984)

Fig. 351 Epidauros, plan of the Katagogeion (Dinsmoor, Greek Architecture, Batsford, London, 1950) Fig. 350b Pella, acropolis palace, restoration of the wall-decoration of the great hall of Courtyard I (Hoepfner, in Hoepfner/Brands, Basileia: Die Paläste der hellenistischen Könige, Philip von Zabern, Mainz, 1996)

Fig. 352 Pella, model of the House of the Abduction of Helen (Makaronas/Giouri, Oi oikies tes arpages tes Elenes kai tou Dionysou kai tou Dionysou, Archaeological Society at Athens, Athens, 1989)

Fig. 353 Pella, model of the House of Dionysos (Makaronas/Giouri, Oi oikies tes arpages tes Elenes kai tou Dionysou kai tou Dionysou, Archaeological Society at Athens, Athens, 1989)

Illustrations 417

Fig. 355 Vergina, restoration drawing of the Hellenistic palace (Andronikos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Ekdotike Athenon, Athens, 1979)

Fig. 354 Demetrias, plan of the Hellenistic palace (Marzolff, in Hoepfner/Brands, Basileia: Die Paläste der hellenistischen Könige, Philip von Zabern, Mainz, 1996)

Fig. 356 Samos, remains of the villa on the Kastro hill (Tölle-Kastenbein, Samos 14: Die Kastro Tigani, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, 1974)

Fig. 357 Delos, plan of the House of the Masks (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

418 Illustrations

Fig. 358b Pergamon, Group IV and V palaces, with Group IV restored as residential, Group V as banquethalls (Hoepfner, in Hoepfner/Brands, Die Paläste der hellenistischen Könige, Philip von Zabern, Mainz, 1996) Fig. 358a Pergamon, traditional plan of the Group IV and V palaces (Kawerau/Wiegand, Altertümer von Pergamon 5, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1930)

Fig. 359a Pergamon, plan of houses W of the Lower Agora (Pinkwart/Stamnitz, Altertümer von Pergamon 14: Peristylhäuser westlich der unteren Agora, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1984)

Fig. 359b Pergamon, alternative restorations of Houses II and III W of the Lower Agora (Pinkwart/Stamnitz, Altertümer von Pergamon 14: Peristylhäuser westlich der unteren Agora, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1984)

Illustrations 419

Fig. 360 Iraq al-Amir, restoration of the main facade of the Qasr el-Abd (Will/Larché, Iraq al Amir: Le château du Tobiade Hyrcan, P. Geuthner, Paris, 1991)

Fig. 361 Restoration of an Alexandrian fountain (based on a papyrus description) (Adriani, Lezioni sull’arte alessandrina, Libreria scientifica editrice, Naples, 1972)

Fig. 362 Delos, plan of the House of the Dolphins (Chamonard, Exploration archéologique de Délos 8: Le quartier du théâtre, École française d’Athénes, Paris, 1922–4)

Fig. 363 Delos, restored drawing of the block of the House of the Comedians (Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

420 Illustrations

Fig. 364 Delos, transverse arches of the Theatre Cistern

Fig. 365 Delos, the ‘Rhodian peristyle’ in the House of the Masks

Fig. 366 Priene, House 33, restoration of the original house (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed. Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

Fig. 367 Priene, House 33, plan of the later enlarged house (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed. Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

Illustrations 421

Fig. 368 Priene, restoration of the enlarged House 33 (Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene, 2nd ed. W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1964)

Fig. 369 Delos, Monument de Granit, plan (detail from Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Fig. 370 Syracuse, plan of the great battery and outer defences of the Euryalos fort (after Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeji, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1941)

Fig. 371 Selinus, defences of the North Gate (after Krischen, Hellenistische Kunst in Pompeji VII: Die Stadtmauern von Pompeji, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1941)

422 Illustrations

Fig. 373 Rome, artillery-chamber in the Republican wall on the Aventine

Fig. 372 Paestum, drawing of tower with architectural ornament (Winter, Greek Fortifications, University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 1971)

Fig. 374 Rome, Forum Boarium, terracotta casing for the top of a wooden column (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978) Fig. 375 Velia, intrados of the vaulted passage of the Porta Rosa

Illustrations 423

Fig. 377 Rome, sarcophagus of L. Scipio Barbatus

Fig. 376 Sovana, facade of the Tomba Ildebranda restored (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Fig. 378 Rome, Tomb of C. Poplicius Bibulus

Fig. 379 Pompeii, plan of the theatre district (A. Mau and F.W. Kelsey, Pompeii: Its Life and Art, MacMillan, London, 1902)

424 Illustrations

Fig. 381 Rome, plan of the Capitolium (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978) Fig. 380 Rome, plan of the temples in the Largo Argentina (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Fig. 382a Volsinii, plan of the Poggio Casetta temple (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Fig. 382b Orvieto, plan of the Belvedere temple (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Illustrations 425

Fig. 383 Rome, Republican portico in Forum Holitorium

Fig. 384a Rome, plan showing the position of the temple of Veiovis (Nash, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Rome II, Zwemmer, London, 1962)

Fig. 385 Palermo, Etruscan ash-urn with voussoir arch

Fig. 384b Rome, restoration drawing of the temple of Veiovis (Nash, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Rome II, Zwemmer, London, 1962)

Fig. 386 Rome, plan of the Republican Forum Romanum (Lugli, Roma antica: Il centro monumentale, Bardi, Rome, 1946)

426 Illustrations

Fig. 387 Rome, view of the Basilica Aemilia from the Palatine

Fig. 388 Alba Fucens, plan of the area of the basilica and the Forum (detail from Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Fig. 389 Pompeii, plan of the Forum (A. Mau and F.W. Kelsey, Pompeii: Its Life and Art, MacMillan, London, 1902)

Fig. 390 Ardea, plan of the basilica (Boethius, Etruscan and Early Roman Architecture, Penguin Books, London, 1978)

Illustrations 427

Fig. 392 Pergamon, plan of the Lower Agora and adjacent area (Akurgal, Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, Hachette, Istanbul, 1973)

Fig. 391 Cosa, plan of the Forum ca. 140, with the basilica at the upper right (Brown, Cosa 3, American

Fig. 393 Delos, plan of the Agora of the Italians (detail from Bruneau and Ducat, Guide de Délos, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1966)

Fig. 394 Herculaneum, plan of the House of the Mosaic Atrium (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, Penguin, London, 1971)

428 Illustrations

Fig. 395 Pompeii, plan of the House of the Faun (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, Penguin, London, 1971)

Fig. 396 Plan of the Villa dei Papiri outside Herculaneum (Grant, Cities of Vesuvius, Penguin, London, 1971)

Fig. 397 Ephesos, view from the Theatre Hill toward the harbour area

Illustrations 429

Fig. 398 Pergamon, model of the acropolis from the SW Fig. 399 Argive Heraion, watercolour restoration (Waldstein, The Argive Heraeum, copyright 1902–5, by Houghton Mifflin, Boston and New York)

Fig. 400a Stabiae, painting of a Campanian seaside villa (McKay, Houses, Villas and Palaces in the Roman World, Thames and Hudson, London, 1975)

Fig. 400b Pompeii, House of Lucretius Fronto, painting of a seaside villa (McKay, Houses, Villas and Palaces in the Roman World, Fototeca Unione, c/o American Academy in Rome)

Fig. 401 An Egyptian palace garden of the New Kingdom, painting in the British Museum

430 Illustrations

Fig. 403 Oropos, view of the valley of the Amphiaraion

Fig. 402 Lindos, ship-relief on the ascent to the acropolis

Fig. 404 Aigai in Aiolis, cutaway restoration of the market-stoa (Bohn, Altertümer von Aegae, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Berlin, 1889) Fig. 405 Aigai in Aiolis, plan of the site and surrounding area (Bohn, Altertümer von Aegae, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Berlin, 1889)

Illustrations 431

Fig. 406 Magnesia, restoration drawing of the E side of the agora, with the propylaia and temple of Artemis, and the facade of the temple of Zeus on the right (Humann, Magnesia am Maeander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904)

Fig. 407 Kos, general plan of the Asklepieion (Coulton, The Architectural Development of the Greek Stoa, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1976)

Fig. 408 Sabratha, stage of theatre with the rebuilt scaenae frons (JdI 51 [1936])

Fig. 409 Rome, restored detail of the exterior of the Theatre of Marcellus

432 Illustrations

Fig. 410 Rome, the rectangular temple in the Forum Boarium

Fig. 411 Olympia, restoration of the E facade of the temple of Zeus (Papachatzis, Pausaniou Ellados Periegesis 3, Ekdotike Athenon, Athens, 1979)

Fig. 412 Nemea, restoration of the facade of the temple of Zeus (Hill/Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea, 1966, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens)

Fig. 413 Nemea, Temple of Zeus, drawings and sections of the flank sima (Hill/Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea, 1966, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens)

Illustrations 433

Fig. 415a Delphi, Athena Pronaia III, composite piers between porch and cella (Bommelaer, Marmaria, École française d’Athènes, Paris, 1997)

Fig. 414 Lindos, drawings of a fourth-century capital from the temple of Athena Lindia (Dyggve, Lindos III, W. de Gruyter, Berlin and Copenhagen, 1960)

Fig. 416 Miletos, Corinthian capital from the Laodike Building

Fig. 415b Delphi, Athena Pronaia III, drawing of a capital of a composite pier (Büsing, Die griechische Halbsäule, Franz, Steiner, Wiesbaden, 1970)

Fig. 417 Miletos, Corinthian anta-capital from the propylon of the Council-house, now in the Istanbul Museum

434 Illustrations

Fig. 418 Sardis, temple of Artemis, Eastern Ionic base with leaf-ornament on torus

Fig. 419 Magnesia, temple of Artemis, late Hellenistic Ionic base with leaf-ornament on upper torus (Humann, Magnesia am Maeander, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1904)

Fig. 420 Kavalla Museum, Ionic capital from the Parthenos sanctuary

Fig. 421 Qasr Nimrud, restored drawing of the Roman temple (Krencker/ Zschietzschmann, Römische Tempel in Syrien, W. de Gruyter, Berlin, 1938)

Illustrations 435

Fig. 422 Suweida, the tomb of Hamrath (Bruennow/ von Domaszewski, Die Provincia Arabia III, Trübner, Strassburg, 1909)

Fig. 423 Jerusalem, elevation and plan of the ‘Tomb of Absalom’ (Avigad, Ancient Monuments in the Kidron Valley, The Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, 1954)

Fig. 425 Tegea, temple of Alea Athena, moulding at the base of the cella wall Fig. 424 Jerusalem, restored elevation of the ‘Tomb of Zechariah’ (Avigad, Ancient Monuments in the Kidron Valley, The Bialik Institute, Jerusalem, 1954)

436 Illustrations

Fig. 427 Nemea, temple of Zeus, Ionic half-column-onpier from the upper order of the cella (Hill/Williams, The Temple of Zeus at Nemea, 1966, courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens) Fig. 426 Ai-Khanum, Corinthian capital from the Hypostyle Hall (Lyttelton, Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity, Thames and Hudson, London, 1974)

Fig. 429 Vergina palace, restoration of the vestibule on the S side of the great court (Hoepfner/Brands, Basileia: Die Paläste der hellenistischen Könige, Philip von Zabern, Mainz, 1996) Fig. 428 Delos, Hall of the Bulls, plan and elevation of a bull-pier capital (Lawrence, Greek Architecture, 4th ed. Yale University Press, New Haven, 1983)

INDEX

Adamclisi (Romania): Monument of Trajan, 188 Adriani, A.: assessment of Hellenistic achievement, 248; essay on Hellenistic architecture, 3–4 Agatharchos: on perspective representation of buildings, 99, 235 Aigai in Aiolis: approach to agora and great marketbuilding, basement entered from outside and below, 36–7, 57 and 287nn47, 58, 59; architecture and landscape, 216; vaulting in theatre, 110, 114 Aigeiai: old Macedonian capital, probably at Vergina, 88–9 and 296nn157, 163 Ai-Khanum: Corinthian in good Seleukid tradition, 230–1, but used in building of non-Greek type, 129; Hellenistic city with Greek theatre and gymnasium, with small palaistra court, large court only 0.66 stade in length, 128–9, Greek forms and institutions modified in non-Greek context, 129 Akragas: Asklepios temple, small in scale, 14, Olympieion, perhaps never completely finished, 5; ‘Tomb of Theron,’ 94 and 298n207, 188 Alabanda: council-house, 147–8, date uncertain, probably mid-second century, perhaps an Attalid gift? 148; Doric temple with widened central span, 14; two important Hellenistic temples, 14 Alba Fucens: basilica, 202, 203; regular street-plan, 200 Alexander the Great: death marks beginning of Hellenistic historically, but Greek art and culture already Hellenistic under A. and Philip II, 3; funeral carriage, 88 and 295n155, 92 and 296n181; temple architecture to time of, 5–9; temple architecture after time of, 9–33 Alexandria: Alexandria and Pergamon, 25, 127; cemeteries and Antoniadhis Tomb, 90; contributions

and influence of Alexandrian Ionic, 231–2; cult and temple of Sarapis sponsored by Ptolemies, 9, colonnaded precinct perhaps model for such schemes in Aegean world, 24, discussion of history, form, and date of temple, 23–4 and 280n126, and of coin evidence, 23, propylon probably always at side of precinct, 17, 18, quickly completed by Ptolemies, 9, 17; deep carving of ornament in Alexandrian Corinthian and Ionic capitals, 231–2; gymnasium described by Strabo, 120 and 305n45; many examples of Corinthian in Graeco-Roman Museum, but few closely datable, 231; Muses’ shrine and Paneion parts of larger complexes, 17; Museum and Library and ‘daughter library’ in Sarapeion, 25, perhaps inspired form and association with temples of Pergamene and Roman libraries, 25; palace architecture, and suggested plan and influence of royal palace(s), 168–71, 176; peripteros at Cape Zephyrion, 15, 24 and 281n135, column proportions late Hellenistic, column-shafts fluted only in upper portion, 24, corner columns related to Kourno peripteros in Lakonia, 24; Pharos, largest and most famous lighthouse of antiquity, 92–3, 296–7n186 and 297nn187, 194, recent underwater finds, 92, dedicatory inscription, 92–3, later influence, 93; Ptolemaic colonnaded temple-courts inspired by Pharaonic models, 25 Alexandria, tombs: Alabaster Tomb and Sema of Alexander, 90; Alexandrian house-plans perhaps origin of ‘Rhodian’ peristyle, 173; Anfushi cemetery not older than late Ptolemaic, 92; Mafrusa hypogeum, with walls in First Pompeian Style, and Wardian Tomb no. 1 ‘house-plan,’ 92; Mustafa

438 Pasha I, date and description, 91, 296nn173–7, Macedonian-style painting over middle S door, 91, first known Corinthian pilasters, 91; Mustafa Pasha II, date and axial ‘house-plan,’ 91–2; Mustafa Pasha III, Doric court with raised platform backed by wall with half-columns, probably derived from Alexandrian palace-architecture, 91 and 296n178, 170–1 and 315nn101–4; Mustafa Pasha IV, date, real peristyle court, 91; Shatbi tomb, early years of Greek city, plan, 90, kline-chamber original, loculi, and burial niches added later, 90; Sidi Gaber hypogeum, date third century, strictly axial plan, antechamber ceiling recalls account of Alexander’s funerary carriage, walls a forerunner of Second Pompeian Style, 92; tombs as evidence for Ptolemaic domestic architecture, 170–1; use of half- and quarter-columns in tomb-courts, 229 Alinda: agora rectangular despite steepness of site, 37–8, 214, approach compared with Aigai, 38; plan and structure of downhill stoa-cum-marketbuilding, 37, outward-facing colonnade along back, 37, visual effects, 36, 37, 58, 59, 216; vaults under seats of theatre, 110, 114 Alscher, Ludwig: 3 Amphipolios: gymnasium-palaistra complex, 122, 123, description, 124–5 Amyzon: Doric temple, Ionic propylon, sanctuary associated with Hekatomnids, 14, 16, 279n85 Anaxagoras. See Demokritos Antioch in Syria: Hellenistic street colonnade outside original city-area? 63; ‘Jupiter Capitolinus’ temple (Zeus Kapetolios, or Kapitolinos?), 25; temple of Zeus Bottios, or Bottiaios, 25, 26 and 281n154, it, shrine of Muses, and council-house all in, or at least near, agora, 16 Antiochos I of Kommagene: tomb on Nemrud Dagı, ˇ 292n85 Antiochos I of Syria: donor of East Stoa in South Agora/Miletos, 52, 60–1 Antiochos II of Syria: commissioned Belevi Mausoleum? 83 Antiochos IV of Syria: and Miletos council-house, 339–40; and temple at Uzuncaburc¸, 25, 28, 29; temples of ‘Jupiter Capitolinus’ at Antioch, 25, 26, and Zeus at Lebadeia, 26 Antiquities of Ionia: publication of Chryse investigations by Dilettanti in vol. 4, 68 Apameia in Syria: street-colonnade of ca. 100 BC outside city-gate? 171

Index Apatourios of Alabanda: design of Tralles stagehouse criticized by mathematician Likymnios, 237 Apollonia in Illyria: Roman roofed hall with vaulted ring-corridor under seats, 147 Archimedes of Syracuse: both a mathematical genius and a practical military engineer, 237, 239 Ardea: basilica, 202, 203 Argive Heraion: Classical approach to location of buildings different from Hellenistic, 208–9; Eupolemos architect of new temple, 6, 208, 236; example of shorter, wider plan, 6 Aristophanes: use of Old Comedy by, 96 Aristotle: and city walls, 18, 34 Arkadia: many surviving early temples, some later buildings still Archaic in style and materials, 6 Arkesios: Hellenistic architect, wrote on Corinthian order, 236, 237, 242, anti-Doric prejudice, according to Vitruvius, 242, 278n69 arsenals and storehouses: section on, 149–56; comparison of Hellenistic with Roman, 155–6; early examples simple, might be stoas, 149–50; Hellenistic granaries, erected quickly but functional and durable, plan still used in granaries of Roman forts, 153; long narrow basement of agora, East Stoa at Arkadian Orchomenos, 150; by mid-fourth century some buildings quite large, 150, Hellenistic examples served variety of needs, 150; Peiraieus arsenal, 150–1, 152–3; storehouses provided both security and protection from weather, 149–50, large examples probably first needed in Classical Athens, 150; translations of Peiraierus arsenal inscription (IG II2.1668), 150–1, and Philo of Byzantion on granaries, 151–2. See also under Athens, Miletos, Pergamon, Thasos art history in classical antiquity: far more sculptors and painters named than architects, 236; might be severely criticized for views outside their specialty, 236; some architects known only from inscriptions or local traditions, but author-architects more often remembered, 236 ‘Arts of Mankind: Hellenistic Art’: less on architecture than on either sculpture or painting, 3 Aspendos: vaults supporting seats of stadium, 113 Assos: agora complex, approaches and visual effects, uncertainties in restoration, 36, 57; basement levels of South Stoa, 57; corbels in city gates, 34; councilhouse, 146, probably rectangle of rising tiers of wooden seats, 148; design impressive without being rectangular, 214, 215; structure of stoas, 56,

Index 57; temple facing into agora from W, 16; vaults in theatre, 110; visual effects of and from theatre, 207 Athenaeus: learned grammarian of third century AD, and author of Deipnosophistae, a collection of anecdotes and excerpts from earlier writers on a wide variety of subjects – his excerpts from Kallixeinos on Alexandrian matters are frequently cited in the present work Athens: Academy and Lykeion gymnasia, 117; arsenal on Kolonos Agoraios, 154; and Attica, post-Persian building activity, 5; baths at Dipylon Gate and in agora, 132; contrast of Roman with Greek Agora, 40; Demetrios of Phaleron and sumptuary laws, 71; Dipylon Gate, 34; fifth-century combinations of Doric with Ionic friezes and interior columns, 220; ‘gate’ by Stoa Poikile, 40; Gymnasium of Ptolemy, near Agora, 120, gymnasia normally included altar or shrine, 120; Hadrian Library, 219, 233; Hellenistic form of Agrippa Monument, 10; Hellenistic work on Olympieion by Seleukids, 9, 26–8, 142; Ionic in Metroon and propylon of ‘Council House Lane,’ 29 and 282n171; Kallithea tomb and Marathon Mound, 71; Middle Stoa and Stoa of Attalos defined borders of Agora, 54, 64, 209, 215, Hellenistic additions to S slopes of Acropolis, 208, 209, 215; Monument of Lysikrates, 71, 230, first known use of Corinthian on exterior, 75 and 290n26, it and Philippeion/Olympia earliest examples of dentils over figure-frieze, 75, columns ornamental in final design, 221; Nike temple, 14, 47; Odeion of Agrippa, 137, more Roman than Greek, 240; Odeion of Perikles, 137, 139, 140, 145; Old and New Bouleuteria, 142–3 and 309nn34, 35, 36, 37; Olympieion, Peisistratid, never completed in Hellenistic, 5, 9, Hellenistic, discussion and description, both Archaic and Hellenistic, 26– 8, capitals, 224, 230, 231, served as model for Roman normal Corinthian, 224 and 324n32, 231, column proportions probably based on fourthcentury Eastern Ionic, 28, Cossutius and, 26, 27, 28, 240, interior evidently hypaethral, as mentioned by Vitruvius, 28, proportions of stylobate from Archaic predecessor, 27–8, Vitruvius and, 27, 28; Parthenon, basis of design, 238, comparison with earlier and later Doric, 220; propylon of ‘Council House Lane,’ 29, 42 and 284–5n38; South Stoa I, 53–4; stoas, development in Agora, 52–4; Stoas of Attalos and Eumenes Pergamene in character, 56, only definite examples of Pergamene leaf-capitals

439 outside Pergamene kingdom, 66, arched openings in Attalos, blind arcade in retaining wall behind Eumenes, 185, 234, double-half-columns-on-piers in upper storey, 48, 233, given as political propaganda, 52; Stoa Poikile, Stoa Basileios, Stoa of Zeus, all religious or quasi-religious, 52; Stoa Poikile and Stoa of Zeus, 53; Stoa Poikile doubtless politically inspired, 52–3; suburban gymnasia early, 117, 120; Theatre of Dionysos, see under ‘Theatres and Stadia,’ visual effect, 207; Tholos in Agora, 31; Tower of the Winds, 240; two-storeyed stoas of Eumenes and Attalos, 56 Baalbek: Bacchus temple, Graeco-Syrian plan, 26, ornamental cella columns, 219, on boldly projecting piers, 233; Jupiter temple, Seleukid predecessor, 17, 26, 231 and 327n87, which had colonnaded court? 17; Roman influence in detailed carving of capitals, Bacchus and Jupiter temples, 231 Baiae: concrete dome of bath-building, 199 Bammer, A.: study of new Artemision at Ephesos, 9–10; his placing of sculptured drums, 9 and 276– 7nn33, 34 Balty, J.C.: and possibility of street-colonnade outside city gate of Apameia, 63 Bassai: temple of Apollo, 25–30 years to finish, 5, cella half-columns purely decorative, 219, 220, early example of this feature, 232 baths (Hellenistic): in general, 131–4; baths of Gortys Asklepieion and at Olympia clearest examples of Hellenistic hypocausts, 132, description, 132– 3; difference between hot springs and artificially heated water and rooms, 131, heating rooms in baths by hearths, braziers, or other means, 131 and 307nn114–18; Greek contributions to development, 134; hearth, and perhaps early hypocaust, in Upper Gymnasium/Eretria, 126, 131, ‘heating-wall’ in baths of Palast I/Eretria, 131; hot and cold baths in Vitruvius’s palaestra, 131; hot springs and baths in Asia Minor and Greece mentioned by Pausanias, 131; Olympia, development of baths SW of the palaistra, largest pre-Roman piscina in Greek world, 133, small hypocaust, more advanced than Gortys, 133; primacy of Greeks or Romans in development of hypocaust? 133– 4, conflicting views of Olympia hypopcaust bath, 134, role of Sergius Orata questioned by G.G. Fagan, 134, original theoretical work surely Greek, sophisticated hypocausts and banks of wall-flues

440 Roman, 134, 243; public baths with hot water and steam not before late fifth century (Olympia, ‘Centaur Bath’/Corinth), 132; several Hellenistic examples (brief descriptions), 132; technical terms, 115 and 303n4; usefulness of baked bricks in heated areas, 132. See also gymnasium, palaistrai, and baths Bees, R.: and fifth-century theatre, 100, 298–9n13 Belevi mausoleum: description, 82–4; followed design of Halikarnassos Mausoleum, 82 and 294n109; but exterior and interior of second storey Hellenistic, 83; location, 82; perhaps two periods of construction, 83 and 294n116; planned height ca. 35 m, 83; remains of painting on both architecture and sculpture, 83; stylistic associations suggest period ca. 300–250, Macedonian connections, 83, some technical details and decorative forms echo Priene/Athena and Zeus temples, 83; suggested commissioners Lysimachos and Antiochos II, 83 and 294n118; widespread later influence (Rhodes, North Africa, Etruria, even AiKhanum), 83–4 Bingol, ¨ O.: on columnae caelatae at Ephesos and Chryse, 9, 276–7nn33–4 Boiotia: aperipteral temples, 6 Brauron: colonnaded court, 25; simple layout, 213; stoa continuous around three sides of court, 155 Brixia (Brescia): T-plan of Capitolium, 197 Busing, H., study of half-columns in Greek ¨ architecture: discussion of some of his conclusions, 232, Olympia stadium-gate, 42; ‘pass-throughs,’ 47; theatre proskenia, 108 Burford, Alison: study of builders at Epidauros, 238 Buruncuk-Larisa: Archaic palace, 157; later palace, 158 Campania: Hellenizing of non-Greek inhabitants, 6; its ports entry-points for many East Mediterranean Greek influences, 188 Capua: ‘Carceri Vecchie’ and ‘La Conocchia’ tombs, 188; regular town planning, 187 Charias: engineer, 237 Chersiphron and Metagenes: architects of Archaic dipteros at Ephnesos, 236, their book probably dealt with technical problems solved, 236 Chiusi (Clusium): ash-urn with voussoir arch, now in Florence, 204 Chryse, Smintheion: combination of figure-frieze and dentils copied from early Hellenistic Aegean monument, 13; not as carefully planned as Magnesia/Artemis, 13; platform built over by

Index Gulpınar villagers, 12; pseudodipteral 12; probably ¨ late third century, but ca. 160–130 in view of Bingol, ¨ 12 and 277n54; resemblances to and differences from Messa, 12–13; sculptured top drums of some columns, 13. See also columnae caelatae Cicero: on country villas, 159, 206 Cleopatra: death marks formal end of Hellenistic, 3 clerestories: clerestory of Hypostyle Hall/Delos first preserved Greek example, 138; in Egyptian oeci of Ptolemaic palace architecture and in banquet hall of river-barge of Ptolemy IV, 322–3; large clerestories developed in Ptolemaic and ItaloHellenistic traditions, 140, 192; in Palazzo delle Colonne/Ptolemais, and in Vitruvius’s ‘houses of men of rank,’ 140; probably not used in Telesterion/Eleusis, Odeion of Perikles/Athens, or Thersilion/Megalopolis, 140; small clerestory windows at back of South Stoa/Corinth, 138–9 colonnaded streets: 61–3 and 288nn69–72 columnae caelatae: in both Archaic and later Artemision at Ephesos, 8; decorated pedestals apparently also planned in Sardis Artemision, 9; in later building both square pedestals and circular drums, 8–9, position of drums uncertain, placed at top of shaft by A. Bammer, 9, 276–7nn33, 34; remains found at both ends of building by J.T. Wood, 8; sculptured drums definitely used at top of shaft in Smintheion at Chryse, 13; thirty-six decorated columns in all (Elder Pliny), 8; various arrangements of drums, 8– 9, 276–7nn26–34 commemorative buildings, Hellenistic: Olympia, Samothrace, Elis, Athens, Delphi, 10 comparison of Greek and medieval builders: 238 Cooper, F.A.: on interior columns of Eleusis Telesterion, 136 Cori: temple of Castor and Pollux, 195 Corinth: arched Isthmian Gate, 34, 284nn2, 3; ‘Centaur Bath,’ 132; Hellenistic and Roman reorganizing of agora area, 209–10; no major new temples, 9; Propylaia at head of Lechaion Road, 35; South Stoa, defines S border of Agora, 55, four lengthwise divisions, 138, had broken roof-line at rear, with clerestory windows? 138–9, height:length ratio of facade better than in Philip Stoa/Megalopolis, 55, but not as good as Pergamene work, 215, two storeys of rooms behind inner aisle, 55, 60, cf. effect of Priene/North Stoa set at back of substantial terrace, 55 Cosa: basilica, 202; regular street-plan, 200

Index Cossutius: 26, 28, 185; Antiochos IV made his acquaintance during sojourn in Rome? 26; Roman architect employed by Antiochos IV of Syria, 230; also worked at Antioch, 26, 240 Coulton, J.J.: importance of his study of stoas, 51 council-houses: architectural showpieces likely to be gifts of kings, after 190 rivalry of Seleukids and Attalids in Asia Minor, 149; Hellenistic examples usually simple and functional, 149; history of the architectural type perhaps begins in Archaic Athens, 142, in any case a new structure after Persian sack, 142, 309nn35, 37, New Bouleuterion slightly smaller, and description, 142–7, stone seats after Milesian model with help of Antiochos IV? 142–3; Lousoi and Eleusis small-scale examples of Hellenistic curved seats, 143; Milesian plan probably due to Seleukid architects, later copied elsewhere, 142–3; most early examples long and narrow, 141; placing of entrances and rear landings for greatest convenience, 143; Priene hall, best known example of rectangle of rising tiers of seats, 143, description, 143–4; some buildings took form of a winged stoa (Kalaureia), but Mantineia winged stoa not a council-house, 142; study and classification of W.A. McDonald, 141, Vitruvius deals only with oblong plan, 141; three plans for seats, according to V. Kockel, 141; Vitruvius preferred wide-span halls, with height reflecting dignity of city, his impressive height not found in any Greek example, 141 covered halls: chapter on, 135–49; area to be roofed from several hundred to over 4000 m2, 135, presented problems not met in temples with interiors subdivided, or in gatherings in open air (theatres, popular assemblies), 135; Eleusis, Telesteria I–IV (Peisistratid to fourth century), 135–7; even Classical architects had problems in roofing such structures without knowledge of trusses, 136–7; more attention to such buildings from late fifth century, but Hellenistic builders never equalled Italic and Roman achievement, 135; Odeion of Perikles, 98, 137; Thersilion at Megalopolis, area almost 3500 m 2, interior columns radiating from speaker’s position in five concentric rectangles, intermediate supports later inserted in middle rectangle, 137 Damophon of Messene: sculptor, 86 Deinokrates: scheme for city on Mt Athos criticized by Alexander, 234, 236

441 DeLaine, J.: regards development of hypocaust baths as a Campanian innovation, 134 Delorme, J.: studies of gymnasium-palaistra, 116 Delos: approaches from harbour to Apollo precinct, 46, effect of stoas, 10, 215, donors probably chose architects, 46–7, given as propaganda, 149, 210, Philip stoa eventually colonnaded both long sides, 46, 64, composite interior supports, 233; Delian houses, 158, 171–4, ‘Rhodian’ peristyles, origin probably in E or SE Mediterranean, 173; Delian house-plans are ‘Aegean Hellenistic,’ 173; distinctive features of Delian housing, 171–3; gymnasium-palaistrai, 120, 121; Hall of Bulls, 10, 233, and Mithridates Monument, 10; Hellenistic arches and vaults at, 172–3, 234; House of the Hermes, use of sloping site, 162, 172; House on the Hill, 172; House of the Masks, 173, 180–1; Hypostyle Hall, closest Greek parallel to Roman basilica, 138, but clerestory modest by comparison with Roman work, 140, described in inscription as ‘the stoa near the Poseidion,’ 51, date end of third century, description of building, small clerestory over centre, 138–9; no new temples to Greek gods, 9; Poseidoniasts of Berytos, 161; propylon of Apollo precinct, a gift of Athens, 46; two-storeyed Hellenistic stoas in agora and Agora of Italians, 56, 203, perhaps inspired Roman two-storeyed arcades and two-storeyed colonnaded facades, 56–7, and forum porticoes with shops, 202–3; wooden skene in early Hellenistic theatre, 101, early Hellenistic wooden proskenion, 102, 103, new proskenion plan in later stone stagehouse, 103 Delphi: Alexander Hunt group, Aristaineta, Prusias and Paullus Monuments, 10; Athena Pronaia II, plan, 6–7; Athena Pronaia III, combination of Doric and Ionic, 220, ‘pass-through’ from porch to cella, 47, 232, 233; Daochos group, 10; gymnasiumpalaistra, last third of fourth century, 122, small in overall area due to sloping site, 122, dining-room in Roman times, 123; no new Hellenistic temples, 9; ‘Old Tholos,’ 31; stadium, 113; Stoa of Attalos I, 46, 50, has Pergamene features, 47, effect of stoa, theatre, ‘Galatian Stoa,’ and other Hellenistic additions, 210; temples of Apollo, sixth and fourth centuries, 222; Tholos in Marmari´a, 31, 72–3 and 289–90nn12, 13, 15, 290n18, 221, Ionicizing exterior wall-base, 222, perhaps for a hero-cult, 73, probably no broken roof-line, 139; visual effect of addition of theatre, 207

442 Demetrias: palace, 163, time of Philip V, plan more like fortified residence than palace, 163 Demetrios Poliorketes: 122, 145, 237 Demokritos and Anaxagoras: on principles of perspective, 235 Demosthenes: house owned by his father, 157; on houses of early fifth century and of own day, 157 Diades: engineer, earliest datable name on Vitruvian list of engineers, 236, 237 Didymaion: architectural drawings on walls of inner court, 11; chronology of Hellenistic work, probably commenced by Lysimachos, 11; combination of archaizing and Hellenistic traits, 12; Corinthian capitals, 11, 223–4; extensive work sponsored by Seleukids, 11, 25; general description of remains, 10– 11; interior focal points framed in traditional temple exterior, 19 and 279n102; interior hypaethral, 11, 28; large in scale, 14; never finished, even in Roman times, 11; raised on high platform, 9; relationship to Archaic temple, 11–12; uniform intercolumnar spans, 14, with decastyle facades, 27 Dilettanti: sponsors of excavation of Smintheion at Chryse, 12 Dinsmoor, W.B., Sr: on Olympieion at Athens, 27; primary interest Archaic and Classical architecture, 3; on stone skene of Athenian theatre, 101; on theatres at Epidauros and Priene, 105; theory of clerestories in Telesterion, Thersilion, and Odeion of Perikles, 139–40 Dionysios of Syracuse: 3, 183–4 Dodona: Hellenistic theatre, stadium, and impressive bouleuterion, 10; Epirote monarchy patrons of sanctuary, 10; open-air tradition with priests sleeping on ground, 19; progressively larger and more elegant temples, 12; proskenion colonnade of theatre Ionic, 108, 232; temple of Zeus always small, 6, 14, in final phases projected beyond back of precinct, 17, colonnades, 50, 51, on three sides of precinct, 17, leading visitor’s eye to temple facade, 18, facade of propylon repeated that of temple, 19; use of Ionic in many Hellenistic buildings, 29 Dorpfeld, W.: on houses at Pergamon, 167; on skene ¨ of theatre of Dionysos/Athens, 101 Doura Europos: agora, original plan and as actually built, 61 Eastern Hellenistic: development and nature of Seleukid and Ptolemaic temples, 22–3

Index Eastern Ionic: bases and entablature, and resistance to Attic combination of figure-frieze and dentils, and of Eastern plinth with Attic base, 8; unknown whether platform curvature found in earlier examples, 7 Eleusis: fortifications, 44; Lesser (of Appius Claudius Pulcher) and Greater Propylaia, 44–5, 46–7; Lesser a modest forerunner of Forum Transitorium/Rome, 45, as much Roman as Greek in character, 240, 243, mixed order carefully designed, 196; small councilhouse with curvilinear seating, 143; Telesterion, 135–7, history and associated architects, 136–7, interior order, 136 and 308n5, question of clerestory, 139–40 Elis: ‘Corcyraean Stoa,’ 64; Ionic proskenion colonnade in theatre, 108, 232; ‘old gymnasium’ near agora, 117, 120 entasis: at Priene, 7 entranceways: general treatment, 34–49; city gates also entranceways, arches or large-scale corbels could be decorative, even if still remaining primarily military (Priene, Assos, Corinth), 34; colonnaded entrances to private houses at Delos and Pompeii, but extant examples rare, 41–2, to stadia and theatres (Olympia, Epidauros, Priene), 128–9; development of approaches to Athena/Lindos and Apollo/Delos temples, 45–6; entrance to temenos only one aspect of subject of entranceways, 34; half-column ornament never on exterior, rarely on interior of gates, 34–5, but Hellenistic examples part of inspiration for Roman gates 34–5; Hellenistic agora entranceways at Ephesos, Priene, 38–9, but such structures uncommon, none known at Pergamon, Miletos, Magnesia, 39, perhaps because idea originated outside Aegean world and never fully accepted there, 39–40; Hellenistic sanctuary entrances often mainly symbolic of passage from profane to sacred (Magnesia, Epidauros, Ptolemaion/Samothrace), 42–4; large-scale military gates also impressive, as in Syracuse/Epipolai West Gate, 34, also extrawide lintel-and-central-pier gates (Athens/Dipylon, Messene/Arkadian Gate), 34; many Hellenistic gates had towers with decorated top storeys, 35; North Propylaia/Epidauros too far from Asklepios enclosure to form integrated design, 34; ‘passthroughs’ studied by H. Busing, 47–8, used in ¨ interiors, 47 and 285n60; propyla found in nontemple contexts (council-houses, gymnasia, heroa),

Index 40, as well as other ways of emphasizing entrance, 34; Roman examples of agora entrances (Corinth, Ephesos, Miletos), 35, 39; use of half-columns-onpiers permitted wider spans, 47, 108, composite members transposed to external propylon at Latmian Herakleia, 49 Epaminondas: 362, death at Mantineia, 3 Ephesos: acanthus-scroll sima copied from Athena temple at Priene, dentils of Hellenistic form, 8; altar, perhaps earliest example of new type, 20; Archaic Artemision: date of completion, 8, 275n3; bases and entablature pure Eastern Ionic, 8; column proportions those of later fourth century, 8, rounded borders of volute channels copied from predecessor, 8; contrast with Athena temple at Priene, 8; deep pronaos, 7, 14, altar, 20; doorway of ‘St. Paul’s Tower,’ 247; Gate of Mazaeus and Mithridates, 35; hypaethral interior, 8, 28; later Artemision, architects Paionios and Demetrios of Ephesos, 9; Library of Celsus, plan, 25, column-screen on facade, 219; mixture of archaism and innovation, 8; new columnae caelatae in contemporary style, 8, found at both ends of building, 8–9; opisthodomos added, 7; perhaps interior baldachin for statue, 23–4; raised on high platform, 8; retained Archaic asymmetrical facades with graded intercolumniations at front, 8, 14; set no new trends in Ionic design, most later Ionic temples followed concepts of Pytheos, 9; some flank capitals not earlier than ca. 225, 8 and 276n29; see also under columnae caelatae; some sort of propylon or entrance, 18; visual effect of Ephesian theatre, 207 Epidauros: Abaton colonnades, 57, 66, 67; Artemis temple, small in scale, 14, decorative Corinthian interior order? 221; Asklepios temple, finished quickly, 6 and 275n4, had 6 × 11 peristyle, deep front pteron, no opisthodomos, plan probably revival of late Archaic idea, Theodotos architect of, 6, Corinthian columns in cella? 221; gates in theatre parodoi and stadium, 42, 233; lack of formality in Classical layout, 213; no major new buildings after third century, 9; North Propylaia, far from Asklepios precinct, 34, description of location and of the building, 43, comparison with Asklepieion Sacred Way/Pergamon, 43; ‘palaistracomplex,’ 122, probably series of dining- and meeting-rooms, but could serve some of functions of palaistra, 123, Delorme identifies an apodyterion

443 and bath, 123, plain construction, 123, Roman Odeion built in court, 123, peristyle court, 161; stadium, 112 and 303n104, starting-gates, 233; Temple L, pseudoperipteral, 29, 106, half-columns of exterior ornamental, not structural, 219; theatre, designed by Polykleitos, according to Pausanias, 104 and 301nn63, 65, paraskenia only vestigial, 103, general history of auditorium, stagehouse, and parodos-gates, 105–7, von Gerkan’s early Hellenistic and later Hellenistic stagehouses, 106, conclusions to be drawn from his and Muller-Wiener’s work ¨ at Epidauros, 107, proskenion columns Ionic, 106, 108, 232; Tholos, 73–4, most richly decorated Greek round building, 73, 222, architect Polykleitos according to Pausanias, 104, date 360s to ca. 325, 73, 104, 222, description, Corinthian interior columns with first known cyma recta frieze, 73, 223, paintings inside by Pausias, 74 and 290n19, for worship of or as cenotaph of Asklepios, 74 Epimachos: engineer of Demetrios Poliorketes, 237 Eretria: baked bricks used at, 131; houses by West Gate, 160; ‘Palaces’ I and II, 161, 178; Roman influence in post-198 buildings, 132; Upper Gymnasium, built mid-fourth century? 126 and 306n84, rebuilt after Roman sack of 198, 126, Lower Gymnasium had three phases, latest, post-198, is fairly complete in plan, 126; vaulted and heated room in Upper Gymnasium, 132, water-heating arrangements and a ‘heating-wall’ in ‘Palast I’ baths, 131; vaults in theatre, 110 Eupolemos: architect of new temple in Argive Heraion, 236 Eupompos: painter, took nature as his model, 236 Euripides: ‘moralizing’ in his tragedies, 96; ‘most tragic of the poets,’ 96 eustyle. See Hermogenes Fagan, G.G.: pensiles balineae of Sergius Orata for fishfarms, not in baths for human use, 134 Fanum: Vitruvius’s basilica, 137, 247 Ferentinum: arched gateway, 185; market-building, 203 Foce del Sele. See Paestum foreign cults: more common in Hellenistic, even in Aegean, 10 Frontinus: comment on pyramids and ‘useless but famous’ Greek works, 134 Fyfe, T.: his Hellenistic Architecture treats Hellenistic primarily as prelude to Roman, 4

444 Gabii: theatre-temple at, 197 Gela: baked bricks in early hypocausts and for pavements and some walls, 132; two-room bath, with tubs in both rooms, 132 Ginouv`es, R.: studies of bath facilities, 116 Golbas ¨ ¸ ı-Trysa: Heroon with temenos, 71–2 Goette, H.: circular orchestra in theatres, 97; fourthcentury history of Athenian theatre, 99–100 Gortys (Arkadia): Asklepieion baths, and development of hypocaust, 132–3 graded spans: Archaic graded spans abandoned in Classical, early Hellenistic and at Teos, kept at Ephesos, 14; in Archaic and Hellenistic Ionic, 14, 27; widened central span reappears in Hermogenes’ eustyle system, normal in middle and late Hellenistic, 14 Greek architecture: scarcity of general monographs compared with those on sculpture and painting, 4; can be fully appreciated only on actual sites, 4; strict planning rules weaken in Late Classical, especially in use of the orders, 220–3 Gruben, G.: on Sardis Artemision, 10 Guichard, Claude: and Halikarnassos Mausoleum, 79, 291n56, 292n61 Gulpınar. See Chryse ¨ gymnasia, palaistrai, and baths: chapter on, 115– 34; account of Vitruvius deals with these in sequence, 115, Greek origin explains Roman use of Greek terms, 115; circular sweating-rooms Hellenistic, Romans added double vaulting and dome with closeable oculus, 115–16; date of replacement of simple peribolos with peristyle court, 118, Lykourgos’s architects created palaistra as architectural type, 118; dedicated space for dromoi and palaistra involved large area, earliest examples likely to be suburban, but later town planning allowed for ‘urban palaistrai,’ 120; earliest examples only middle or last third of fourth century on, 115, 126 and 306n84, Delphi gymnasium earliest firmly dated example, 122; features essential for gymnastike were tracks for runners, palaistra for field events, 116; first gymnasia only dedicated open spaces, and probably in E Greece, 116–17, no colonnades, 118 and 304n26, first evidence of actual buildings in Peisistratid Athens, 117–18, Kimon’s water-supply and trees for Academy, 117, 118, 121, probably similar provisions in Lykeion and Kynosarges, 121, probably trees only in large gymnasium area, palaistra too small for more than

Index a few, 121; gymnasium-palaistra always associated with temple or sanctuary, 120, remained simple and functional rather than imposing, great gymnasia of Pergamon and Alexandria, and complex at Olympia, exceptional, 120, and even these dwarfed by great Roman thermae, 120–1; Hellenistic bathing facilities increase in size, include first hypocausts, 115, Romans use Latin names only for features with no Greek equivalent, 115; Herodotos’s account of Kleisthenes’ dromos and palaistra at Sikyon, 117; importance of studies of Schneider, Delorme, Ginouv`es, Wacker, Yaras¸, of new publications, and of results of new excavations, 116; list of sites discussed, 120–1, Elis oldest gymnasium known in detail (from Pausanias), post-470s, 277–8; Olympia gymnasium and palaistra, and Pausanias’s description, 118, largest preserved Greek gymnasium, 121; Olympia only extant gymnasium with both ancient description and excavated remains, 127, gives best picture of Alexandrian gymnasium, though much plainer in style, 128; only Olympic festival really early, 116; origins of peristyle court, 119–20 and 304n35; preserved gymnasia, Delorme’s ‘municipal’ and ‘panegyric’ categories, 122; standard series of rooms not before late Classical, 121, scenes on red-figured vases suggest only courtyard and one or two rooms, 121, more rooms and facilities in Hellenistic, including lecture-rooms, as recorded in ancient texts and inscriptions, 121 and 305nn50, 51, 122 and 305n58, even dining-rooms, 123 and 305n64; use of palaistra as synonym for gymnasium, including by Vitruvius, 118; Vitruvius’s ‘Greek’ palaistra, discussion of his sources, 129–31, Syracusan Timoleonteion a possible model? 130, source most probably Hellenistic, 129–30, 131, Vitruvian version much larger than Olympia, 130, comparison with Pompeiian palastrae and baths, 130 Hafner, G.: interpretation of ‘Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus,’ 227 Halikarnassos: Hekatomnids at, 6 Halikarnassos Mausoleum: column proportions, probably influenced Athens/Olympieion, 28; conspicuous landmark for sailors, 80; date, 80; description, rediscovery (Guichard, C.T. Newton, Jeppesen and Danes) and latest restorations, 78– 80, 291–2nn51–80; dimensions, 80, 292nn81–4; Elder Pliny and, 7, 78, 79, 80, his account suggests concern

Index for precise numerical relationships, 7; Ionic capitals, 225; Martial and, 79; many free-standing sculptures, 79, placing of, 79, 291nn63, 64, 292n84; placing of friezes, 227; Pytheos (and Satyros) architect(s) and author(s) of book on, 80, 236, their account perhaps only a statement of numerical relationships, 7; Pytheos responsible for sculptured coffers, 292n71; relationship to Belevi, 82, 292n64; sculptors Skopas, Leochares, Bryaxis, and Timotheos, 80; uncertainties in modern restorations, 78; Vitruvius and, 78, 79, 291n52, 292n80; walled temenos planned, 80 Handler, Susan: proposed interpretation of remains of Sarapeion/Alexandria, 23–4 Havelock, Christine: architecture poor second to sculpture in her book, 3 ‘heating-walls’: at Eretria, 131, 134; possibly Hellenistic example at Tell Edfu in Egypt, 134 Hekatomnids of Mylasa: both Doric and Ionic used, 14; earlier fourth century in Karia, 3; often clothed native cult-buildings in Greek dress, 6; their increasing Hellenization of buildings at Mylasa, Labraynda, and Halikarnassos, 6 Hellenistic architects, engineers, and technical writers: general discussion, 235–44; almost all names mentioned by Vitruvius mid-fourth century or later, earliest dateable writer on mechanics Alexander’s engineer Diades, 236; architects of each period tend to react against predecessors, from late first century AD Roman architects react against Classical and Hellenistic Greece, 241; brilliant work by Hellenistic engineers in ballistics and weaponry, but little attention to problems of materials and techniques, 239; burgeoning of military engineering under Dionysios I and Macedonians, and influence of Alexandrian Library and Museum, 238; conservatism of Greek architecture, even in Hellenistic times, still evident in some attitudes of Vitruvius and in Augustan classicizing, 239; contrast of Samian Eupalineion and harbourmoles with Hellenistic and Roman engineering, 238, no evidence of earlier builders applying mathematical theory to structural problems, 238; from later fourth century distinction made between trained architects and trained engineers, Vitruvius’s Athenian Epimachos and Alexandrine Trypho clearly engineers, 237, distinction probably due to humble origin of building designers, 237–8, apart from military architecture engineers and architects went separate ways, 238; Hellenistic

445 architects never investigated full potential of concrete and mortar, structural iron, and arch and vault, 239; history of Hellenistic science and engineering known in some detail, 240–1, much less knowledge of history of architecture, beginning of a ‘philosophy of architecture’ only from mid-fourth century, 241; knowledge of Hellenistic tradition still very much alive in E Mediterranean, 241, but the really impressive and well-preserved monuments thoroughly Roman in character, 241–2; Plutarch and Lucian on the stigma of being ‘a craftsman working with one’s hands,’ 239; in Vitruvius’s day Roman architects steeped in Greek theory and practice, by time of Hadrian Greek orders and post-andlintel stonework mere decorative detail, 241, a De Architectura of second or third century would have been very different from Vitruvius, 241 Hellenistic architecture: concluding assessment of Hellenistic achievement, 248–9; creativity of in general, 244–9; from early second century BC on more and more artists and architects enter service of Rome, 242–3, Hellenistic architectural ideas absorbed and modified by contact with established Italic and Roman practice, 242–3, some developments clearly Roman, 243, and Greek decorative ideas underwent rich and varied development, 243; Hellenistic failure to equal Roman achievement partly due to conservatism, but mostly to Greek failure at translating theory into practice, 247; Hellenistic often treated as mere appendage of Classical, 244, yet list of Hellenistic forms and types tells different story, 244–7, though Hellenistic architects never appreciated full potential of many advances, 247, Vitruvius and his age had already surpassed their best efforts, 247; influence clear in Vitruvius and in the monuments, 242, 243–4, his record of DoricIonic-Corinthian debates indicates lively and flourishing tradition, 242; influence of Hellenistic architects mostly felt from Alexander to early Roman Empire, 242; influence strong, especially in detail, down to Augustan, much weaker from Nero onward, 244; influence, through Vitruvius, on Italian Renaissance, 248–9; monuments show Doric widely used in Asia Minor, 242, Corinthian especially popular in Egypt and Syria, 242, Eastern Ionic elements in Macedonia and Epiros, 242; new ideas exploited mainly in improving inherited practice, not in creating something radically new

446 and different, as Romans did, 247; some of richest and most original developments in regions outside Aegean heartland, 248 Hellenistic city plans: enclosure of agoras never aimed at impressiveness of Forum of Trajan/Rome, 216, Pergamene creations the sole exception, 216; Hellenistic stoas and agoras utilitarian in character, and flexible rather than monumental, 57–8; many new cities in Asia Minor and Syria, new building in older Greek cities late fifth century on, 35; meaning of Pausanias’s ‘old-fashioned’ and ‘Ionian’ agoras, 216; new developments in town planning, 35–6 Hellenistic colonnaded streets: little or no evidence for Roman type, or even for raised pedestrian walks, 61–3, though possible Hellenistic streetcolonnade at Antioch, and certainly part of a raised pedestrian walk, 63; perhaps an example of ca. 100 BC at Apameia, 63, history of streets in early Seleukid foundations provides no evidence of street-colonnades, 63 Hellenistic columnar orders (see also Hellenistic trends): chapter on, 219–34; columnar forms as ornament traceable from Apollo/Bassai to Hadrianic, 219–20, real change is in increasing variety and importance of ornamental elements in orders, 220; combination of all three orders in Milesian council-house, 222–3; Hellenistic columnar orders a rich and flexible decorative idiom, 234, increasing use of ornament for its own sake, 222; ‘mixed entablature’ and polytriglyphy in upper storey of Athena propylon/Pergamon, 222, with Ionic columns over Doric here and in Athena stoas, 223; ‘mixed’ orders, 195–6 and 320n95, in Western Greek work, 30 and 282–3n178, in Roman work, 195–6, Augustan examples have Roman order and balance, shared with Classical Greek, often missing in Hellenistic work, 196, Augustan work both unmistakably Roman and the culmination of ItaloHellenistic, 196; orders of Petra tombs (especially Khazne and Deir) based on Seleukid style, 228; popularity of Corinthian and Pergamene leafcapitals due to Hellenistic interest in ornament, 30, 223; in Roman work Corinthian more and more common from middle decades of second century, though temple-plans remain Italic, 30, Late Republican and Imperial figured capitals and ‘mixed’ orders more tightly organized than earlier, 195; Seleukid ‘Antiochene’ style closer to Greek mainstream, but innovative, 228, e.g. Milesian

Index council-house, 223–4, 228, though only a thin veneer outside the major cities, 230; startling mixture of all three orders in Italo-Hellenistic temple in Paestum forum, 30; superimposed interior orders at Tegea and Nemea, 221, by end of fourth century exteriors with larger number of smaller Ionic over smaller number of larger Doric, 221; variety of decorative columnar elements in fringe areas, e.g. Roman Syria, 227–8, Jerusalem tombs, 228, 229–30, Qasr elAbd, 228 – Corinthian: all-Corinthian interiors start with Tholos/Delphi, 221, first Corinthian exterior Lysikrates Monument/Athens, 221; appearance of fluted cauliculus by Skopas at Tegea, 223, flower in place of central palmette (and kymaprofiled frieze-band) in Tholos/Epidauros, 223, where Corinthian very popular, 223; contributions of both Seleukid and Alexandrian significant, 230; for a long time had no standard form, 223, Olympieion/Athens and council-house/Miletos quite different in design, 224; Late Republican adoption of Corinthian, 213 and 323n37; most important influence in Roman ‘normal Corinthian’ Olympieion/Athens, 195, 224, probably based on Antiochene model, 230, this Corinthian is basis of Vitruvius’s analysis, 195; not used to exclusion of Doric and Ionic, 29; relatively rare in Greece and Asia Minor, 230, but very popular in Ptolemaic and Seleukid realms, Alexandrian Corinthian almost always heterodox, 29, 230–1, 242, Corinthian at Didyma and Miletos probably due to Seleukids, 230, as well as other examples, 231; Roman Syrian examples with roughed out, not finished, leaves, 231; steady upward extension of leaf-girdle, flower pushed up on abacus, 223–4; still only decorative variant of Ionic at Bassai, emerges as independent order in fourth century, 220–1; unusual variant of Corinthian at Uzuncaburc¸, some features probably Alexandrian, 28, 223 and 324n30, 224; valued in Alexandria for naturalistic leaf-forms, 213, some very attractive ‘Eyptianizing’ versions of Corinthian, 232, Pergamene leaf-capitals stress essentially architectural forms, not the picturesque, 213 – Doric: Doric exterior/Ionic or Corinthian interior replaced by Ionic/Corinthian, 220; Doric frieze, difficulties at internal corners, e.g. stoas, 69, advantages of cordiform pier, first used in Harbour Stoa/Miletos, 69, 222, 229, useful also in Ionic,

Index 69–70, but Corinthian examples all late, 70; Doric and Ionic both popular in Greece and Western Asia Minor, increasing penetration of each other’s ‘zones,’ 29, 220–1; Doric especially popular for tombs and civic buildings, 220–1; Doric replaces lost monumentality with added non-Doric ornament, 66, 220, already in Parthenon bead moulding along top of metopes, Ionic interior columns, 220, early examples of non-Doric ornament in Doric, 222, richness of decoration in Tholos/ Epidauros, 222; frieze becomes higher, architrave lower, 88, 220, leading eventually to emergence of polytriglyphal systems, 68–9, 222; fourth-century Pronaia temple/Delphi, 220, combination of Doric and Ionic orders very conspicuous, 220; in late fourth century small moulding along top of abacus, 220 and 324n5; later Doric interiors completely nonDoric, 220 – Etruscan: Etruscan, Ionic, and Corinthian all Hellenistic, 193, Hellenistic elements in both Fortuna/Praeneste and Villa Adriana/Tivoli, 219, especially decorative use of columnar forms, 219; Etruscan version of Doric probably not preHellenistic, 193, based on Archaic Magna Graecia Doric, as found at Paestum, 193, Doric temple in Foro Triangolare/Pompeii, 193; Tuscan based on Doric with added base, 186, 193, ‘canonical’ Tuscan of later first century BC an innovation (perhaps of Vitruvius), 195 – half-columns: general discussion, 232–4; Busing on ¨ half-column-on-pier, 232, such members intended to provide a sturdier support, 232 and 327n98; half-column-on-pier first in cella of Bassai temple, then in Pronaia III/Delphi, 232, 233, followed by upper interior order of Zeus/Nemea and Harbour Stoa/Perachora, 232, Nemea also had quarter-columns in one corner of pier, 232, quartercolumn-on-pier moves from interior, at Nemea, to exterior, in Langaza tomb, 229, 233–4, forms ‘relief’ cordiform pier in Alexandrian tomb-courts, ‘inside-out’ cordiform in Jerusalem tombs, 234; in Hellenistic proskenia, 220, usually Doric, rarely Ionic, 232, made wider intervals possible as well as facilitating mounting of pinakes, 232–3; not used to frame archways in Roman manner, 234; in Pergamon Library entrance, 226, also used in starting-gates of Epidauros stadium, 233, permitted completion of lateral faces of Corinthian halfcapitals, 226, ‘relief’ versions, anticipating Roman

447 usage, 233, found even in Hellenistic military architecture, 234, use of half-columns on opposite faces of pier, 233, ‘two-thirds-columns’ on opposite sides of pier both aesthetic and structural, 233 – Ionic: dentils appear in 330s over figure frieze, 224, suggested by Nereid Monument? 224, treated as part of cornice, 226; development much influenced by theory and practice of Pytheos and Hermogenes as known from Vitruvius, 224, but doubtless other Greek designers, including Alexandrians, contributed to Roman Ionic, 224, 230–1, including Vitruvius’s version, 224; ‘diagonal’ Ionic appears late fifth century, but not widely accepted till Roman, 69–70, 224; earliest examples of Ionic dentils over polytriglyphal Doric frieze perhaps Pergamene, 228; expansion of echinus at expense of canalis, ornament in canalis probably Macedonian in origin, 225; friezes brought down closer to viewer and enlarged, 226–7 and 325n55, in Mausoleum perhaps even on stepped base? 227, Lefkadhia Tomb, Pergamon Altar, perhaps monument to which ‘Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus’ belonged, 227; Hellenistic combination of Eastern Ionic plinth with Attic base, 224–5, already in Amyntas Tomb/Telmessos, Belevi mausoleum, Didyma, 225; increased ornament on abacus, 225; increasingly elaborate ornament on Ionic bases and capitals, 225; in Macedonia and Epirus, 29 and 282n169; reduction in height of canalis and overhang of volutes result in incomplete echinus, 225; twofascia architraves more and more common, 225–6, apparently taken over from non-Greek work of fourth century, 225, uppermost fascia enlarged at expense of others, 226 and 325n49; variety in relative height of architrave and frieze-band, 226 Hellenistic setting and vista: general discussion, 207–18; Athena Lindia/Lindos, Hellenistic developments, 217–18, contrast of Propylaia with Mnesiklean structure/Athens, 217, final phase Pergamene-inspired, 217; Campanian seaside villas, 210; comparison of Pergamene stoas with Philip II/Megalopolis, Antigonos/Delos, 215– 16; Corinthian valued for ‘picturesque’ quality of leaves, 213; Delos, effect of Hellenistic stoas by harbour, 215; differences between Pergamene and Alexandrian approaches to setting, 213–14, harmony of architecture and landscape, sanctuary of Athena/Pergamon, 213–14; effective planning of both propylon and whole complex, 17–18;

448 Hellenistic agoras and sanctuaries more tightly organized, 207–8, 209; Hera Basileia/Pergamon used gymnasium complex as ‘forecourt,’ 214; informality of Samothrace also differs from Classical version, 213, Oropos perhaps closest parallel, 213; Kos Asklepieion an outstanding example of Hellenistic vista and setting, 216–17, final effects almost certainly Pergamene, 217, upper temple enlarged copy of Asklepios/Epidauros, 216–17; landscape architecture and gardening most likely in suburban areas, e.g. Academy/Athens, 210; paintings of rustic landscapes probably reflect Alexandrian tradition, 210–11, comparable with tent of Ptolemy II and ship of Hiero II, 211; Pergamene approach to group designs, 213–15, Pergamene temples ignore ‘traditional,’ 215, more effective than Labraynda and small Sicilian towns, 214, Roman approach already present at Praeneste, 214; Republican villas strongly influenced by Eastern Hellenistic, 211, Imperial villas (e.g. Val Catena on Brioni Grande) much more formal than Alexandrian, 211; Samothrace, Archaic altar in setting of rocks, spring, and glade, 212; sculpture in contrived, or consciously ‘romantic,’ setting, 212; setting of Nike of Samothrace, in Louvre, and in the sanctuary, 212, similar setting for the Ptolemaion, with picturesque combination of Ionic and Corinthian columns, 212–13; striking visual effects of Asklepieion/Kos, Athena precinct/Pergamon, 208, contrasted with Argive Heraion, 208–9, earlier Western Greek architects seem more imaginative, with conspicuous clusters of temples at Selinus and Akragas, 209, ‘templescape’ and cityscape at Paestum, 209, temple and seascape at Cape Colonna, 209; theatres and relationship of architecture to cityscape and landscape, 207, permanent stone theatres certainly added new impressiveness to cities and sanctuaries, 207 Hellenistic style in Italy and Sicily: chapter on, 183– 206; architectural sarcophagi, Tarentum and Rome, 188; decline of Greek cities after third century, 183, dominant power now Rome, importing directly from E Mediterranean, 183–4; Eastern tomb types in Latium and Etruria from Archaic on, 187, Canosa architectural facades, Tarentum naiskos-tombs, Etruscan temple-tomb facades all Hellenistic, 187– 8 and 318n39; figured capitals from Egypt through Tarentum, 186, passed on to Paestum and Pompeii, 187; frequency of arch and vault in Italic and

Index Roman gates, 185, possible influence of Roman arch-construction in E Mediterranean, 185; Hiero II only flourishing period for Greek Sicily and S Italy, otherwise increasingly subject to Rome, 183; non-Greeks tended to mix Greek forms, e.g. Tuscan base and capital, 186, Forum Boarium terracotta column-casing related to Paestum Doric temples, 186; no royal art and architecture in Greek West, 183, even some military innovations borrowed from Carthaginians, 183; Roman involvement made Italo-Hellenistic style one of great achievement, 206; tombs of Bibulus, Rome, and ‘Theron,’ Akragas, 188, monuments at Capua, Pozzuoli, La Turbie, Adamclisi (Romania), 188; West Greek achievements in siegecraft and fortifications, 184, later copied by non-Greeks, 184–5; West produced no grandiose town-planning projects, great temples, or civic architecture, 186, urbanism aimed at affordable efficiency, 186, but Greek theories of urbanism adopted and passed on to non-Greeks, 186, 187 and 318nn29, 31; ‘Western Ionic’ koine, 186 Hellenistic trends: arches and vaults in Hellenistic work, 246–7, yet half-columns rarely, if ever, used to frame arches, columnar facades remain the most preferred monumental type, 234; deliberate echoes of classical architectural and sculptural themes, 223 and 324n26; Doric encouraged by Pergamene kings; interpenetration of original ‘zones’ of Doric and Ionic orders, 29; love of surface ornament, 29; rulers of Macedonian descent indifferent to old local Greek traditions, 29 Herakleia-under-Latmos: city larger than Priene, with well-preserved walls, 144; council-house, description (based on German studies in 1912 and 1925) and date, 144–5, interior sunken below level of court outside, 145, not excavated, 144, propylon, 49; remains of agora extensive, 144, agora stoa with basement rooms, 57, 59, layout rectangular despite irregularity of site, 214 Herakleides: on streets of Athens, 18 Hermodoros of Salamis: 21, 194, 240 Hermogenes: among first Greek architects with detailed technical and professional training, 7–8; anti-Doric prejudice, 14 and 278n69, 242; appreciated connection of science and architecture, 239; eustyle system mathematically more precise than Archaic Ionic graded spans, 14; his widened central span also found in Doric at Alabanda and in Pergamene prostyles, 14, and accepted by Italic

Index architects, 14; represents culmination of Hellenistic theories of temple design (Teos and Magnesia), also wrote on columnar orders, 236, 237; shared Pytheos’s view of precise interrelationships, 7, 8; Vitruvius indebted to his theories of temple design, 237 Hermopolis Magna (Egypt): account of remains, 24, precinct probably followed on Alexandrian model, 24; at least one stoa and a propylon, 17, 24–5, but complete layout unknown, 17; Doric temple under Ptolemy III, 15; influence on colonnaded precincts elsewhere, also on ruler-cult of Roman emperors, 24; Ionic may also have been used, 24; order of temple Doric, with dedicatory inscription on architrave, 24; painted Corinthian capitals, 24 Hiero II (Syracuse): altar of, 20–1; great ship, 211; prosperity of Syracuse under, 183 Hormann, H.: studied council-house, Latmian ¨ Herakleia, 144 Horace: results of his Graecia capta lines, 134 hypaethral interiors: at Ephesos, Didyma, Athens/Olympieion, 28 hypocausts. See under baths Hyrkanos: probably builder of Qasr el-Abd palace, 168, 228, 231 Iktinos: at Bassai, 236; book on the Parthenon, 235, not known whether book discussed theoretical basis of design, 235, 236, 238; and Telesterion III (Eleusis) and Parthenon, 136–7 Ionic base: combination of Eastern Ionic plinth with Attic base (a Macedonian innovation?) long resisted in Asia Minor, 8 Iraq al-Amir: Qasr el-Abd palace, identified with Jopsephus’s baris of Hyrkanos, 168, 228, Corinthian columns and half-columns with Doric entablatures, combined with relief-slabs of lions and eagles, 168, ground-plan recalls Greek temple but elevation and decoration un-Greek, 231 Isaura: arched gate, 234 Istakhr (Iran): Corinthian half-capitals useless for support, 230, yet models Seleukid Greek, 230 Italo-Hellenistic architecture: importance of, 4; Roman involvement gave Italo-Hellenistic architecture greater future than Eastern styles, 206 Ito, Juko: on Delphi Tholos, 72 and 289n12; on Tomb K-3, Messene, 85–6 Jason of Pherai: 3

449 Jeppesen, K.: and Halikarnassos Mausoleum, 78– 80 and 291nn54–8, 63, 292nn64–84; and Peiraieus arsenal, 152 Jerusalem: B’nei Hezir Tomb, 228; discussion of ‘Absalom,’ B’nei Hezir, and ‘Zachariah’ tombs, 229, ‘Absalom’ and ‘Zachariah’ have Ionic quartercolumns on either side of exterior angle-piers, 229, 234, closest parallels perhaps corners of Mustafa Pasha tomb-courts at Alexandria, 229, 234, but models probably Seleukid, not Alexandrian, also for Ionic bases, 229, form probably originally Peloponnesian, 229–30; ‘House of Pharaoh’s Daughter,’ 229 Johannowsky, W.: considers Greeks were first to develop hypocaust installations, 134 Kalat Fakra: tower, 228 Kalligas, E.: excavations in new temple of Dionysos/Athens, 99 Kallikrates: designer of Nike temple, Athens, 236 Kalydon: heroon, its propylon, 40, resembles townhouse, 161, shows mature Hellenistic form, 72; ‘pass-through’ to Room II, 48 Kastabos, Hemithea temple: Corinthian pronaos columns even in Hellenistic, Doric features also noted, 10; general description, 10; Hellenistic prosperity due to patronage of merchants and sailors, 9–10; influence of Pytheos, 10, 12; precise numerical interrelationships in plan, 10; small in scale, 14 Kavalla Museum, capitals from Parthenos sanctuary, 225 and 325n44 Khurra (Iran): Ionic temple, contains Seleukid elements, 26, logic of Greek design misunderstood, 230 Kimon: connection with Stoa Poikile/Athens, 52; promoted building of Telesterion II/Eleusis, 136 Klaros, Apollo temple: careful planning for specialized needs, 10; date, 15 and 278n70; description, 15; Doric ‘intruder’ in Ionic Asia Minor, 14; short, wide proportions, 15; statues in cella Roman, 15; use of arched supports in crypt the most significant feature, 15; work of an architect outside Aegean mainstream, but familiar with Macedonian innovations, 15; Sacred Way leading to propylaia, 19; Seleukid sponsorship, 15, 25 klinai and loculi : 72 Knidos: development of Knidos after ca. 350, 31 and 283n186, 82 and 293n99; Doric Portico, 81 and

450 292n87; Lion Tomb, 81–2, half-columns ornamental, 219, crowning pyramid and lion, cf. Amphipolis, Chaironeia, Thespiai, 81, date not firm, 81, 82, 293n86, eleven loculi, 81, landmark for sailors, 81, temenos wall, 81; roughly contemporary tombs flanking road E from city, and at Gebe Kilisse and Asarlık, 82; round temple, 31–2 (see also under temples) and 283n193; and Sostratos, 93 and 297n194 Koldewey, R.: original excavator of Messa temple, 12; Konkobar (Iran): complex is of Parthian date, 17, but perhaps descended from Seleukid ancestor of Roman Syrian walled courts, 26 and 281–2n156, mixed Doric-Corinthian capitals, 227 Koroibos: one of architects of Telesterion IV/Eleusis, 136, 137 Kos: Asklepieion, description of development, 216– 17, colonnaded precinct based on Egyptian models, 25, combination of archaizing and innovation, 12, propylon small but conspicuous, 18, new altar, 10, 20, 216, new prosperity from late fourth century, 9, patronage of merchants and sailors, 9–10, Temple A (Doric) an enlarged version of Epidauros temple, 14, 216–17, Temple B (early Hellenistic) very small in scale, 14, importance of traditional sacred site, 216– 17, vistas to and from complex, 18; Charmyleion, 82, inscription identifies as tomb of Charmylos (ca. 300) and family, 84, with gardens and other buildings of ‘the Twelve Gods and the Hero,’ 84, basement burial chamber vaulted, with six thekai or loculi, 84, above a narrow podium staircases to two doors leading to two identical rooms, 84, second storey had corner pilasters and central Ionic aedicula as cult-room, 84 Kourno (Kionia): temples at, 24; Krischen, F.: author of Antike Rath¨auser, studied Latmian Herakleia council-house, 144; on forerunners of Mausoleum, 292n85 Kuh-i-Khwaja (Iran): fire-temple, bases of Doric halfcolumns, 227 Labraynda: and Hekatomnids, 6; both Doric and Ionic accepted, 14; layout less visually effective than Pergamene work, 214; two-fascia Ionic architraves, 225–6 Langaza: Macedonian tomb, 82, 87, form of corner columnar elements, 229, 234 Laodikeia Epithalassia: Hellenistic street-plan, 63 Lassus, J.: on Antioch street-colonnades, 63

Index later Greek architecture: often treated as appendage of fifth century, 3 Latium: increasing Hellenistic influence, 6 La Turbie: Troph´ee des Alpes, 188 Lauter, H.: Die Architektur des Hellenismus, importance, and difference from present study, 4 Lebadeia: new temple of Zeus sponsored by Antiochos IV, 10, 277n38; one of his unfinished projects, 15 Lefkadhia: Great Tomb. See under Macedonian tombs Libon: of Elis, designer of Zeus temple/Olympia, 236 Limyra: Heroon, 15, description and date, 78, Karyatids instead of columns, 78 Lindos: Archokrateion, analogy with Lefkadhia tomb, 85, cf. Athena Propylaia and ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies,’ 85, date, 85, description, 84–5, burialplace of Archokrates and family, 84, painted and sculptural decoration, 85, plan of burial area recalls that of Macedonian tumulus-tomb chambers, 85; Athena sanctuary, combination of archaizing and innovation, 12, colonnades, 50, series of colonnaded elements perhaps based on Pharaonic Egyptian models? 25, development of approaches to temple, 45–6, harmonious relationship of elements of different dates, 18, effect of elegance rather than monumentality, 57–8; Hellenistic development of Athena sanctuary, 217–18, date of new temple, 218 and 323n58, due to Rhodian national pride? 10, new Hellenistic temple small, copying plan of predecessor, 10, 14, facade echoed in wings of Propylaia and Lower Stoa, 10, 12, 18, visual effect of these, 18, influence of Pergamene architecture likely, 218, importance of traditional sacred site, 18, 217, vaulted extension of lower terrace, 114, 217; ship-relief at foot of acropolis ascent, 212 Lousoi: council-house, small, had curvilinear seating, 143 Lucus Feroniae: irregular plan even in Augustan times, 200 Lykia: Greek influence on non-Greek Asia Minor from late fifth century on, 76–7 Lykosoura: Hellenistic blossoming of sanctuary of Mistress, 10 Lyncker, K.: studied council-house of Latmian Herakleia, 144 Lysias: on expensive houses, 157 Lysimachos: commissioned temple of Athena at Troy, 14, and Belevi Mausoleum? 83; no commitment to Eastern Ionic, 14, started work on new Didymaion and Artemis/Sardis, 25

Index Lysippos: fourth-century sculptor, comments on ‘naturalism,’ 236; date, 301n65 Lyttelton, Margaret: interested in Hellenistic baroque primarily as predecessor of Roman architecture, 4 Macedonia: royal capital Aigeiai, once placed near Edessa, now seen as probably at Vergina, 88–9 and 296n157 Macedonia and Thrace: Macedonian vaulted tombchambers, 88–90; many small temples, none really large, 6, 14; Thracian and Anatolian chambers roofed with masonry in series of superimposed squares, 72 Macedonian tombs: ca. 350 onward tumulus (earthmound) over stone-vaulted chambers, 87 and 295n141; dates of all examples before Roman conquest, 87; decoration usually in painted stucco, 87; facades of chambers very elaborate, with engaged Ionic or Doric columns (free-standing at Laina), 87; at least one two-storeyed (Lefkadhia), no Corinthian known, 87; Lefkadhia Great Tomb, 87–8, combination of orders also found in Vergina palace and Philippeion at Olympia, 88, 221, contrast with Archokrateion at Lindos, 88, date ca. 300 or a little later, 89, cf. design of Canosa (South Italy) tomb and Gate of Zeus and Hera, Thasos, 88, 221; material normally local limestone, marble rare, 87 Magnesia, Artemis temple: design of Artemis altar, 20; a late work of Hermogenes, 12; more carefully planned than Kastabos, Chryse, and Messa, 13; plan fully pseudodipteral, 12, 14, and eustyle, 14; propylaia, 18, 42; total coordination of interior and exterior spaces, 13 Magnesia, general: no specially emphasized entrance to agora, 39; unifying character of agora South Stoa, 60; vaults in theatre, 110; Zeus temple, 14, small in scale, 14, both it and Artemis temple part of agora complex, 16, 26 Mamurt Kale, Mother of the Gods: L-shaped buildings, 58–9 and 287n55; small temple, 14 Manduria: fortifications, 184 Marissa (Palestine): Tomb I painted Doric frieze, Tomb II painted figures, clearly non-Greek, 229 Martin, R.: essay on Hellenistic architecture, 3 Mausollos: palace at Halikarnassos described admiringly by Vitruvius, 158, first hint of the elegant finish of Hellenistic and later Roman Republican residences, 158, beginning of Hellenistic return to ‘oriental’ magnificence, 158

451 McDonald, W.A.: on basement of E Building/Orchomenos, 150; study of council-houses, 141 Megalopolis: Stoa of Philip II and Stoa Myropolis, 54, Philip three-aisled, 54, elongated winged stoa a Macedonian type? cf. Antigonos Stoa/Delos, 54, disadvantages of this stoa-plan in an agora, 54, poor height:length ratio, 54; temple of Zeus Soter, small, 14, 17, most of temple projected beyond back wall of precinct, 17, which was entirely enclosed by colonnades, 17, leading eye onward to temple facade, 18, colonnades, 50, typologically, shrine closer to Dodona than to Lindos, but early in city’s history, 19; theatre and Thersilion, date, and date of skenotheke, 100–1 and 300n34, movable wooden backdrops (scaena ductilis) not needed in Greek times, 100–1 and 300nn34, 35; Thersilion, 137, in ruins in Pausanias’s time, 137, 139, probably no clerestory, 139–40; visual effect of theatre in cityscape, 207; Zeus here urbanized descendant of storm-god of Mt Lykaion, 19 Messa, Aphrodite temple: comparison with Chryse, 12–13; divergent views regarding date, 12 and 278n57; excavated first by Koldewey, Greek work in 1960s, 12; figure-frieze with dentils copied from early Hellenistic monument, 13; floral ornament on faces of capitals, 12; not as carefully planned as Magnesia/Artemis, 13; pseudodipteral 12, 13; symmetrical front and back porches probably derived from mainland Doric, 13 Messene: Arkadian Gate, 34; Asklepieion stoas with figured Corinthian capitals, 65, ‘theatre’ in, 137, 148, 192; Hellenistic bath-complex, 131; palaistrastadium complex, 121, 125 and 306nn75, 76; temple of Artemis Limnatis, Corinthian capital, 29 and 282n173; Tomb K-3, palaistra area, 85–6 Metagenes: one of architects of Telesterion IV at Eleusis, 136, 137 Miletos: council-house (Bouleuterion) complex an advanced Hellenistic design, 82, description and discussion, 146–7, used all three orders, 24, 164, 223, Corinthian propylon, 146, 223, 224, 230, Doric court, pseudo-isodomic masonry of chamber, exterior decorated with Doric half-columns, 146, 223, capitals copied from Erechtheion/Athens Karyatids, 146, 223, frieze has dentils above Doric metopes, 223, gift of Antiochos IV, 317, 335, location, 141, major milestone in design of Hellenistic covered halls, 147, must have used roof-trusses, 138, 140–1,

452 146–7, Roman architects later added vaulted ringcorridor beneath seats at Nysa and at Apollonia in Illyria, 147, plan of seats, 142–3, 146; East Stoa of South Agora, 60–1, a Seleukid gift, 60, its design, also of E–W arm of one L-stoa, and of part of Harbour Stoa complex, perhaps based on a Syrian model, 61, had four lengthwise divisions, 138; gymnasia-palaistrai, 125–6, 305n44, several known, 125, one of these a gift of Eumenes II of Pergamon, 125, very large palaistra beside stadium, Hellenistic court probably almost 60 m square, 125, smaller example S of Delphinion, 125 and 306n81; Hellenistic Heroon, 82; Laodike Building, 169 and 315n92, 191 and 319n64; Roman gate of South Agora, 36, no known Hellenistic structure emphasizing entrance, 39–40; similar propyla of council-house and palaistra, 125–6; stoas with both inward- and outward-facing shops, 60–1, use of Lshaped stoas, 58, use of cordiform piers at re-entrant angles of stoas, 69, 222, 229; storage-building W of South Agora, 154–5, 233; ‘urban’ gymnasia and palaistrai, 120, 125–6 monumental altars: developed form a new and peculiarly Hellenistic creation, 21; Greek practice regarding altars, 20; history, 19–21, dates and details of elevation of some examples uncertain, 20 monumental tombs and commemorative monuments: chapter on, 71–95; Akragas, ‘Tomb of Theron,’ 94; Alexander Sarcophagus, 188; Anatolian forms reach Greek mainland only second half fourth century, 71; Archaic ‘Ionic-pilaster’ sarcophagus from Samos, mid-fourth century Mourning Women sarcophagus of ‘temple type’ from Sidon, 71; baroque development combining triumphal arch and commemorative tholos not before Roman Imperial, 95; decoration of tombs carefully planned propaganda, 72; Dougga, ‘Tomb of Ateban,’ 83– 4; from fourth century on high socles or podia, terracing and temenos walls, 71, Golbas ¨ ¸ ı-Trysa Heroon an early example, Kalydon Heroon mature Hellenistic complex, 71–2; loculi later replace klinai, 72; heroa first in Anatolia, but increasingly use Greek forms and Greek workmen, 71; inviolability through false doors and windows, later by mounds over vaulted chambers, 72; large tholoi were memorials, 72; large tombs required political stability and economic prosperity, 72; Mausoleum B at Sabratha, 93; might serve as landmarks, but really intended to reflect wealth and power of deceased,

Index 72; monumental tombs in W Mediterranean influenced by Eastern Hellenistic, 93, 94; North African Punic ‘obelisk-tombs’ show influence of both Semitic nefesh and Halikarnassos Mausoleum type, 93, but also reflect local, Alexandrian, and Cyrenaic customs, 93; preferred sites for tombs prominent rock outcrops and hillsides with commanding view, 71; Ptolemais towertomb strongly influenced by Asia Minor type (Belevi), 94; rock-cut necropoleis more common from fourth century, 86, execution of chamber often quite rough, facade more elaborate, 86, found in many areas of Hellenistic world, 86, Ionic most common, Cyrene favoured Doric, only one Corinthian (Sovana), 86; some tumuli had stone ring-walls and corbelled chambers, 72; stone tumuli of Medracen and Kbour-er-Roumia, 94; variety and freedom of forms through new combinations of Greek and borrowing of non-Greek elements, 71 Morgantina (Sicily): approach to and visual effects of agora, 36, and of theatre, 207; Hellenization of city, 186; the whole less impressive than Pergamene work, 214 Murray, S.B.: on continuation of Hellenistic influence in Roman Syria, 230 Mylasa: and Hekatomnids, 6 Near Eastern and North African monuments: in present study mostly based on written accounts, 4 Nemea, stadium: 112–13 Nemea, Zeus temple: column-proportions here and at Tegea, compared with Hera II/Paestum and Zeus/Olympia, 210; Corinthian now an independent order, 221; date, 6 and 275n4; height of frieze relative to architrave, 220; short, wide plan, deep front pteron, no opisthodomos, 6; upper columnar units of interior, 232 Newton, C.T.: and Lion Monument/Knidos, 293n86; and Halikarnassos Mausoleum, 78 Nielsen, I.: maintains that development of true hypocausts Italic, attributed to Sergius Orata, 133–4 and 308n134 Nikaia: gymnasium at centre of city, 120 Nippur: Hellenistic palace, 48 non-Greek Hellenistic regions: often likely to borrow Greek decoration rather than overall plans (AiKhanum), 30–1, survival of local traditions among native Egyptians, 30; Seleukid Syria an exception,

Index Corinthian very popular, 31, and native versions of Doric-Ionic developed, surviving in Roman Imperial times, 227–8 Notion: council-house, large, with inner rectangle of supports with 20 m span, 145–6; if Hellenistic probably hypaethral, if completely roofed probably Roman, 145 Nysa-ad-Maeandrum: Roman roofed hall with vaulted ring-corridor under seats, 147 Oiniadai: two-room Hellenistic bath with hot-water basins, 132 Olympia: council-house, 141; few completely new major buildings finished from later fourth century, 9; gymnasium-palaistra, 117–18, 121, 127–8, athletes’ lodgings, 127 and 306–7n94, function of area paved with striated tiles uncertain, 128, no identifiable remains of earlier Olympia gymnasium-palaistra, 128; Metroon, short wide peristyle, almost square cella, 6; Philippeion, 10, 74, 230, architect either a Macedonian or familiar with Macedonian developments, 74–5, 221, 224 and 325n40, built soon after victory of Philip II at Chaironeia in 338, description, 74, no broken roof-line, 139; propyla of gymnasium and palaistra, 40–1, 128; stadium gate, 10, 42, 233, 234; visual effect of gymnasiumpalaestra complex and new stadium gate, 10, of Echo and South Stoas, 18, 54, 65, 210; Zeus temple, columns still sturdy, unlike fourth century, 220 Olynthos: importance of houses discovered there, 157; wide range of prices, 157 opisthodomos: normal in Hellenistic Ionic in Asia Minor, 7; virtually eliminated in Theban Ismenion, suppressed in temples of Asklepios at Epidauros and Zeus at Nemea, 6 Orata, C. Sergius: inventor of pensiles balineae, 134 Orchomenos, Arkadia: basement of agora East Building storehouse, not bouleuterion, 150 ‘Oriental bazaar’ buildings: at Doura and in Late Antique Syria, 61 Oropos: picturesque quality of setting, 213; temple of Amphiaraos aperipteral, 6; theatre with thyromata in episkenion, 102–3 and 301n51 Ostia: area sacra of Hercules Victor, 21; concrete used at, 199, 200; gates of Sullan circuit, 185; House of the Painted Vaults, 181; insulae, 178; Magna Mater precinct, 21; planning of castrum, 200; streets outside castrum always rather irregular, 200

453 Paestum: ‘Corinthian-Doric’ temple in forum, smallscale, 14, 184, figured capitals, 187, 195; decorated towers, 35, 184, 234, fortifications, 184, 185; temple of Athena, deep front pteron, no opisthodomos, 6–7; temples of Hera, two in city, two in Foce del Sele sanctuary, 6, Hera II/city, proportions of columns, 220, and relative heights of architrave and frieze, 220, compared with Athena/Tegea and Zeus/Nemea, 220 palaistrai. See gymnasia, palaistrai, and baths Palermo Museum: ash-urn with voussoir arch, 198 Pausanias: 56, 73, 74, 104, 117, 121, 122, 127, 236 Pausias: painter, 74 and 290n19 Peiraieus: Arsenal of Philo at, 141, 150–1 and 310nn71– 3, 152–3; good interior lighting would have been helpful, yet there was no clerestory, 140, 141; inscription (IG II2.1668) mentions a propylaion on side of Hippodamian Agora, 35, 36, 38–9; long, narrow plan (400 feet), 140, 141; proskenion of theatre probably early Hellenmistic, 103 Peisistratids: as temple-builders, 5 Pella: Houses of Dionysos and of Abduction of Helen, 162–3, Ionic upper storeys N side of court, 365, Ionic order of Dionysos very elegant, 163, quality of mosaics and architecture compared with Olynthos and Priene, 163, not known whether gardens in courts, 163; large city houses are on level ground, but palace used slope effectively, 162; large urban houses and the royal palace, 160 and 312n27, 162– 3; Pella palace, area, 163 description, 165, started latter part fourth century, already two peristyles, 165, later southern peristyles terraced out over S slopes of hill, 165, had impressive colonnade with propylon on S side, 165, these peristyle areas served public functions, northern peristyles domestic, 165, northern area had two bath-suites, 165 Peloponnesian War: results of, 54 Penrose, F.C.: and Athenian Olympieion, 27 Perachora: Harbour Stoa, 56, 67, 232 Pergamon: arsenals, 153–4, Dinsmoor’s criticism unreasonable, 154; Athena temple, fairly small in scale, 14, Doric though in Asia Minor, Doric very popular with Pergamene sponsors, 14, side and rear of temple seen from propylon, 18, had two-storeyed stoas, 17, 56, 57, 223, 225–6, symbolic motifs carved on parapets, 227, visual effects of layout, 208, 213–14, cf. with Traianeum, 22; Demeter temple small-scale, 14, stoa with basement, 59; design of Traianeum Roman, 214; Great Altar, 20, perhaps

454 inspired in part by Altar of Hiero at Syracuse, 20, subjects of sculpture symbolic, 19, supports at head of stairway, 233, and around peristyle court, 48; gymnasium complex, general, 120–1, 126–7, lower entrance, 41, half-columns-on-piers in exedras of Upper Gymnasium, 48, complex within city walls, 120, temple E end middle terrace, 127, vaulted stairwells, 234; Hera Basileia temple quite small, 14, facetting of columns, 66; Heroon of Ruler Cult, in part derived from plan of a private house, 161; House of Consul Attalos and peristyle houses W of Lower Agora, 166–7; indifference of Pergamene designers to ‘traditional’ temple orientation, 215; Library entrance, double-halfcolumns-on piers, 48; no specially emphasized entrance to agoras, 40; palaces (Groups IV and V), general description, 167–8, problems of restoration, 167; stoas linking levels of site, 57, with basement on downhill side both Upper and Lower Agora, 59, 61–2, open terrace over basement in Lower Agora, also at Assos and Latmian Herakleia, 59; temples of Dionysos and Hera Basileia used theatre terrace and gymnasium complex as forecourts, 16, 18, cf. theatre terrace at Aigai, 18; unifying character of Northeast Stoa of Upper Agora, 60, temple formed effective closure as at Assos, 18; vista from theatre, 207, wooden skene in theatre, 101, 108 and 302n84; widened central span in some prostyle temples, 14 Perge: decorated towers at South Gate, 35, 184, 234; theatre, 207; vaulting in city walls and stadium, 113–14 Perikles, Periklean building program: 236 Persian Wars: aftermath of, 5; caused outburst of Greek national confidence, 5 Perugia (Perusia): arched city-gate, 198 Petra tombs: brief description of Khazne and Deir, 228 and 326n64; tholoi as part of, 32 Pheidias: 236, 237; in Plutarch and Lucian, 238 Philip II: accession, 3; ‘Tomb of Philip,’ 89–90 Philo of Byzantion: and granaries, 151–2, 153; on outer defences, 184 Philo of Eleusis: and Peiraieus arsenal, 150, 152–3; treatise on same praised by Cicero, 236; wrote on Doric temple-proportions, 236, 237 platform curvature: at Priene and Didyma, unknown whether also in earlier Eastern Ionic, 7 Plommer, W.H.: on date of Messa temple, 12; on details of Kastabos temple, 10

Index Plutarch: on quality of Periklean buildings, and on Phidias and Iktinos, 236 political sponsorship of Hellenistic temples: 9 Polyeidos: military engineer, 237 Polykleitos: architect of theatre and Tholos at Epidauros, according to Pausanias, 73, 104, 301nn63, 65 Polykleitos: fifth-century sculptor, author of Canon, a treatise on proportions of male figure, 236 Polykrates: as temple-builder, 5 Pompeii: basilica, 202; baths, concrete domes of frigidaria, 134, 199; decorated towers, 35, 184; figured capitals of Italic temple, 195; palaestrae and baths, 130; fortifications, 184, 185; Small Theatre, 191–2; temple in Foro Triangolare, 193; temples at N end forum and of Apollo, 196; theatre, 108, 109 Pozzuoli: tomb beside Via Celle, 188 Praeneste: design of sanctuary, 21–2, round temple, 195, with theatre in front, 22, 197; use of concrete and opus incertum, 114, 199–200 present study: concentrates on Aegean heartland and Italo-Hellenistic tradition, 4; no separate chapters on Ptolemaic and Seleukid architecture, 4; includes many restoration drawings, 4; tries to do justice to Italic and Roman as well as Greek, 4 Priene: agora approaches and entrances; agora faced almost entirely inward, 38, late Hellenistic agora entered from NE through a wide archway, 38–9, 41 and 284n34, 234, with imposing vista of the new North Stoa beyond, 39, this probably most often used entrance to agora, 39; arched West Gate, 34; Athena temple, 5–6 and 275n3, architect Pytheos, 6, altar of Athena temple, 10, but not firmly dated, 2 and 280n107, column proportions may have influenced Athens/Olympieion, 28, contrast with new Artemision at Ephesos, 8, finished only with help of Alexander, and later of Kappadokian king, 6, later influence of temple, 12, propylon modest in scale, 18, but turned Athena Street into a sort of Sacred Way, 42–3, ‘Pytheos sketches,’ 11, refinements, and exact numerical interrelationship of parts, 7, 10, rinceaux of anta capitals richly coloured, 7, slender columns anticipate Hellenistic practice? 8, sima with acanthus scrolls borrowed from contemporary Doric, 7, 6 × 11 peristyle, 6, possibility of stoa with colonnades on both long sides on S border of precinct, rejected by Germans and in recent discussions, 64, uniform ‘columnar’ and ‘intercolumnar’ units, 7, vistas from terrace S

Index of the stoa, 214; council-house (‘Ekklesiasterion’), 143–4, arched opening in S wall, 143–4, 234, date ca. 200, 144, location, 141, 143, trusses may not have been used, spans much like those of Artemis temple/Sardis, later had to be reduced, 138, 140– 1, 144; hieros oikos resembled private house, 161–2; North Stoa of agora, 60, set on fairly high terrace, 55, its unifying function, 60; palaistrai-gymnasia and stadium all inside walls, 120, 123–4, 125, propylon, of Lower Gymnasium, 40, 41; stadium, 113, 120 and 305n44, 123–4, 125, stadium ‘gates,’ 42; stoa around three sides of agora, 55; stoa with basement rooms, S side of Zeus precinct, 59, 60; street-grid rectangular despite steep terrain, 37, 38; temples of Athena and Zeus both near main public area, 16; theatre, parodoi, gates, 107, date of proskenion, 103, 104–6, relation to cityscape, 207; Zeus temple, small, 14, and right at back of small precinct, with one, later two stoas, 17, centred in open space of precinct but not on axis of whole complex, 18, relation to small entrance, 18 pseudodipteral Ionic: Hellenistic Ionic pseudodipteral different from Archaic Doric, 13–14 and 278n63; at Magnesia, previously used at Messa and Chryse, 12 Ptolemaic palace-architecture: discussion, and suggested influence on Imperial Rome, 168–71 Ptolemais: Palazzo delle Colonne area, 159; based on Alexandrian models, 160 and 312n25, date disputed, 177 and 312n25, general description, 177– 8 and 312n22, Pharaonic style of some sculptures, 177, Pharaonic influence in zoomorphic and figured capitals? 178 Ptolemies: purpose of hybrid Sarapis cult, more popular with Greeks than with Egyptians, 23; river-barge of Ptolemy IV, temple of Aphrodite, 32, propylaion of wood and ivory, and ‘a sort of proskenion,’ at back of vestibule, 48–9, largest oikos, for 20 couches, 48, 175, clerestory over oikos, 140, 169, use of luxury materials, 175 Pytheos: anti-Doric prejudice, 14 and 278n69, 237, 242; architect of Athena temple, Priene, 6, of Mausoleum, perhaps of altar of Athena temple, 7–8; author of Commentaries on architecture, 236, exact interrelationship of parts of Athena temple, 7; first architect to stress importance of such exactness? 8, 237, first to treat architecture as ‘mistress of the arts,’ but this view renounced by Vitruvius, 237; first to use sculptured coffers?

455 80 and 292n71; and Halikarnassos Mausoleum, 80, 292n80; introduced opisthodomos in Eastern Ionic, 7; occasionally worked as sculptor? 236; outstanding architectural theorist, 236, appreciated connection between science and architecture, 239, author with Satyros of book on the Mausoleum, 80, 236, his condemnation of Doric a response to Silenos (q.v.) or vice versa, 237; ‘Pytheos sketches’ from Athena temple, 11; retained refinements of earlier times, 7 Qasr Nimrud: temple of Imperial date with hybrid order, 31, 227 residential architecture: chapter on, 157–82, this chapter concerned primarily with houses of the wealthy, of nobility and kings, 158, and with emergence of multi-family residences in crowded communties, 158, blanks in evidence but general picture possible, 158–9; Alexandrian palace-architecture probably surpassed other Hellenistic capitals, 162; always good deal of literary evidence on subject, 157, archeological evidence for Archaic and Classical periods much increased since late 1920s by excavations, 157; Archaic palace at Buruncuk, residences of Archaic tyrants, 157; area of Vergina, and even more Pella, palaces exceed other known large residences, 163; contribution of Etruscan noble residences to Campanian and Roman, 159, East Mediterranean influences transformed by ‘Campanian Hellenistic,’ 160, Campanian garden-courts and peristyles an import from E of Adriatic, 160, where examples of large houses few, but number increasing, 160, Vergina and Pella palaces first in Greek world since Mycenaean, 160; Delian split-level multistorey House of the Hermes, total floor area 1500– 1750 m2, 172, equal to area House of Masks block, 2 1/2 times floor area of House on the Hill/Delos, 172; Delian illustrations of Vitruvius’s ‘Rhodian peristyle,’ 172, 173–4, and of Hellenistic arches and vaults in cisterns and above ground, 172–3, sometimes a lintel is cut in shape of an arch, 173; effective use of sloping sites, 162; most groundstorey colonnades Doric, at least outside areas of Macedonian influence, 174, in galleries a few examples of Ionic, 174, gallery-colonnade perhaps more popular in Italo-Hellenistic, 174, mixed orders, Ionic, and even Corinthian in ‘relief’ colonnades,

456 especially in Alexandria, 174–5; by fourth century wide range of housing standards and prices, 157, examples from Olynthos and others recorded by Demosthenes and Lysias, 157, price probably affected by location of house, 157; Hellenistic multi-unit structures (especially Delos), 178–82, nothing like huge Roman insulae, 178, but Palace I/Eretria, Vitruvius’s ‘small suites of apartments’ and Comedians/Delos all multi-unit, 178–80, and much like subdivision of some houses in late Pompeii, 179, wide range of accommodation for renters or transients on Delos, 180–1, Trumper’s ¨ Reihenh¨auser, 181, ‘Phourni House’/Delos perhaps an equivalent of Roman taberna-insula, 181, comparison of ‘Monument de Granit’/Delos with House of Painted Vaults/Ostia, 181–2, Hellenistic builders first to grapple seriously with need for such housing, 182; ‘hotels’ such as Leonidaion/Olympia, katagogeia at Epidauros and Kassope, 179; large houses with two peristyles in Vitruvius, 160–1, 162, on Kastro Hill/Samos, 166, increase in number of peristyles in palaces by accretion, 162, two peristyles of original Pella palace and House of Dionysos in lower city already latter half of fourth century, Palace I/Eretria perhaps even earlier example, 162; origin of First and Second Pompeiian styles in E Mediterranean, 175–6, substitution of complete architectural vistas an Italic development, 176, painted ornament freed from forms of real architecture, representations increasingly remote from ‘real’ models, 176, differences between E Hellenistic and Italic, 176–7; origin of peristyle in Greek houses: public banquet-halls, ‘Ionian’ agora, palaistrai all possible contributors, 161, also phratry-house(?) at Eretria, Heroon/ Kalydon, of Ruler Cult/Pergamon, Poseidoniasts/Delos, hieros oikos/Priene, 161–2; Ptolemaic palaces, tradition stretched back to Bronze Age, 168, Vitruvius’s ‘Egyptian’ oeci, 169, symposium tent of Ptolemy II and internal peristyles on river-barge of Ptolemy IV, 168, Egypt also origin of Vitruvius’s ‘Cyzikene’ oeci ? 169, pools, fountains, and garden-courts in Egyptian palaces, 169–70, evidence of Alexandrian tombs and literary testimony, including Vitruvius, 170–1, picturesque and unusual materials, costly finish, 175, suggested features of royal palace at Alexandria, 171 and 315nn104, 105, greater richness and luxury of Ptolemaic palaces, 396, influence of Ptolemaic palaces on Imperial Rome, 171, 178;

Index Seleukid Syria, virtually nothing known of large houses in purely Greek cities, 168, no real palace for a long time, 168 and 314n82, but Qasr elAbd/Iraq al-Amir in Jordan an interesting mixture of Greek and non-Greek, 168; spreading extraurban villas more feasible than urban palazzi, 158; value of Trumper’s study of Delian houses, 158 and ¨ 311n10; vaulted rooms in private houses probably originated in Alexandria, 199; Vitruvius’s evidence, confirmed by several actual examples predating end of first century, 159; Vitruvius’s ‘Greek house’ and houses of ‘luxurious and affluent Greeks,’ 160– 1 and 312n29 Rhamnous: short, wide peristyle of new temple of Nemesis, 6 Rhodes: Rhodini, ‘Tomb of the Ptolemies,’ 85 Rhoikos and Theodoros: architects of first Samian dipteral Heraion, wrote book on building, 236 Roman, Etruscan, and Italic houses: atrium-house, 204; peristyle court(s) beyond atrium, with gardens, imported from East, probably Alexandria, 205, 206, become the most important feature, 205, libraries and basilicas added, especially in country villas, 205, Villa dei Papiri at Herculaneum and Villa di Arianna at Stabiae extant examples of villas, 206, Hellenistic architectural forms combined in a specifically Italo-Hellenistic manner, result larger than anything outside palaces in Hellenistic East, 206; six marble columns in house of L. Crassus, 205; Vitruvius and cavum aedium tuscanicum, atrium testudinatum and displuviatum, 204, with compluvium for gathering rainwater, collected in impluvium below, 204–5, in Etruscan houses, origin uncertain, passed on to Rome, 204, widened by setting columns around impluvium, 205 Roman, Etruscan, and Italic temples: baldachin inside Sarapeion/Alexandria, 23–4; Capitolium and Capitolium Vetus/Rome, 192; Corinthian and figured capitals probably came to non-Greek Italy through Tarentum, 195; emphasis on imposing visual effects at Praeneste and in sanctuaries of Hercules/Tivoli and Jupiter/Terracina, 21– 2, Roman effects unmatched in Hellenistic, 22; Etruscan temples, 192–3, Etruscan orders, Tuscan and Ionic, 193; formative influence in Roman temple-design Etruscan, 192–3, early Roman temples based on Etruscan, not Greek, 21, 192, more and more Greek forms and materials ca. 175 on, 21, 194; Hercules Victor and Magna Mater/Ostia

Index and Largo Argentina/Rome still not regularly organized, 21, arx temples of Hellenistic Cosa still haphazardly placed, 21, and Etruscan in character, 194; influence of Ptolemaic colonnaded precincts and walled Seleukid temple-courts, 25; from later second century axial location in rectangular precincts, 21, axiality in precinct probably originally Etruscan, but colonnaded precincts Hellenistic, 193; normally had open space around, and especially in front of temple, 21; overall design of Italo-Hellenistic temples Roman and Italic, 196–7, though inclusion of Greek features justifies term Italo-Hellenistic, 196, Rome eventually provided Roman equivalent of Eastern Hellenistic ‘royal art,’ 197; Qasr Nimrud temple, 31; Romans in E Mediterranean from early second century, 194, leads to use of marble, popularity of round temples and Corinthian, colonnaded precincts, 194–5, E–W interchange shown by Hermodoros in Rome, Cossutius in Athens and Antioch, 194; Roman temples in Syria, Nabataean tombs inherit Seleukid features, 26; round temples common from late second century, 194–5, normally Corinthian, Corinthian tholoi also in tomb-monuments, 195; siting of the two temples overlooking gorge at Tivoli old-fashioned, 22; stone in temples by 300 in Rome (Argentina C), 194, perhaps already due to W Greek influence, 194, which grows much stronger from late fourth/early third century, 194; theatretemples, a Roman innovation, 96 and 298n3, 197; T-shaped plan also uniquely Roman, 197–8 Roman basilicas: ‘basilica’ a Greek word, 201; basilican halls in private houses, 140, 159, 177–8 and 316nn141–3, 205, basilicas in Rome transformed Roman Forum, 202, rebuilt Aemilia, 202, Julia, which replaced Sempronia, 202; building type probably originally from Ptolemaic ‘royal halls,’ 201, but developed form typically Roman, 201– 2, 243; different from Hellenistic stoas, 201, 202, shops in front of, but never inside, 202; importance of Roman and Italic long-span wooden ceilings in development of basilica, 192, 203, 243, but basilica still Italo-Hellenistic, not exclusively Roman, 203, also had Ptolemaic predecessors, 201, 203; separated in various ways from forum, 202; several examples of tribunal for magistrates, 202; Vitruvius on Fanum basilica, 137, 247 Roman macella (markets): generally followed design of Lower Agora/Pergamon, Agora of Italians/Delos,

457 203; but Roman concrete and vaulting produced Ferentinum market-hall and ‘underground shops’ beneath Hercules Victor/Tivoli, 203 Roman roads and bridges: in Asia Minor, 240; earliest bridges and aqueducts owe nothing to Greek tradition, 243 Roman street colonnades and raised pedestrian walks: at Ostia, Pompeii, Timgad and in Syria, 61–3 Rome: Area Capitolina, 21; Augustan Corinthian orthodox, cf. Vitruvius, 28–9; basilicas, first in Rome, 192, Aemilia, 192, called Stoa of Paullus, 51, 201, Julia, 192, 199, 202, Sempronia, 192; Capitolium and Capitolium Vetus, 192; Circus Flaminius, 112; Colonnacce, decorative column-screen, 219; Columna Minucia had a figured Corinthian capital? 195; combination of concrete, opus incertum, and vaulting in Republican warehouse by Tiber, 155– 6, 199 and 321n127, and elsewhere, 198, 199– 200; Concord temple, 197–8; concrete domes, 199, used earlier than large-scale crossvaults, 199, difference between Roman pozzolana concrete and earlier mortarwork, 199, the Roman achievement in concrete, 199–200, Roman opus incertum, 200, pozzolana, from third-century Campania, thus Italo-Hellenistic in origin, 200; Corinthian capitals of Porticus Octavia, 21; Corinthian order and circular plan of Argentina B, probably Fortuna Huiusce Diei, 22, 194, end of second century, 194 and 319n87, Greek influence, also in round temple in Forum Boarium, 22, 195 and 319n88; Corinthian the preferred order of Roman architects by late second century, 195; Curia Julia, 141, 314n80; embellishment of city and sanctuaries with porticoes built by magistrates and generals, 52; first marble temple in Rome, of Jupiter Stator, 130s, designed by Hermodoros of Cypriote Salamis, 21, 194; fortifications, different from Hellenistic, few towers, 200–1, but strong enough to discourage Hannibal from direct assault, 201, Romans appreciated Hellenistic artillery, 201, but location of artillery chamber on Via S. Anselmo on Aventine has no known Hellenistic parallel, 201; Forum Boarium column-casing, 186, 194; Forum Holitorium temples and Argentina C, 194, axial location and use of Corinthian, 22, 29–30; Forum of Trajan, 216 and 323n51; Juno Regina temple, 21; Largo Argentina temples haphazardly placed in precinct, 21; Pompey’s Theatre, 189, 190, 199, 240; Porticus Ocatavia (or Corinthia) and Metelli, 21;

458 Republican and Imperial insulae, 178, 181–2, 200, and their problems, 182; Republican walls, 201; Roman architects and engineers applied Hellenistic scientific ideas as Hellenistic world never did, 240, sending young architects and engineers to study in Eastern Mediterranean, 240; Roman architectural and engineering influence E of the Adriatic, 240; Roman bridges and aqueducts have no known Hellenistic predecessors, 199; Roman town-planning, limitatio, and centuriation, 200, Roman principles, imposed on Etruscan and Greek contributions, produce unmistakably Roman result, 200, though small towns may still develop on less regular lines, 200; sarcophagi of P. Cornelius Scatola, 41, 194, and P. Cornelius Scipio Barbatus, 41, 196; Tabularium, 197, 198, 199; Theatre of Marcellus, arcades with half-columns, 189, 191, 196, 198, 199; thermae with hypocausts, suspensurae, and tubi, 133–4, of Caracalla and Diocletian, 120– 1; tomb of Bibulus, 196; triumphal arches, 198–9 and 320nn111–12; use of concrete and vaulting in Roman buildings, 199, origins of arch uncertain, 198; Veiovis temples, 197 Rostovtzeff, M.: influence on contemporary appreciation of Hellenistic achievement, 248 round temples: discussion of origins and development, 31–3; form allegedly first used for a temple in Aphrodite temple/Knidos, a Doric building later copied in Hadrian’s Villa/Tivoli, 31; Knidos round temple now regarded as Corinthian building of 200–150, assigned to Athena, and lends credibility to tholos of Aphrodite on Ptolemy Philopator’s river-barge, 31–2, 194– 5; Miletos/Delphinion and Athens/Roma and Augustus later, and no evidence of Hellenistic form of Pergamon/Asklepios, 32; plan used early in Vesta/Forum Romanum, in middle and late Republic in regular Italo-Hellenistic form, obviously of Greek origin, 31, all Roman examples later than Knidos temple, 32; tholoi in Campanian wall-paintings (some at least religious buildings), also later than Knidos, and Alexandrian painted tholoi often lack a clear context, 32; tholoi familiar from first century BC on in Eastern lands, e.g. Jerusalem/’Tomb of Absalom’ and Petra tombs, 32–3 Roux, G.: doubts a Polykleitos as architect of Epidaurian Tholos, 104; on ‘Argive style’ Ionic capitals, 106

Index Sabratha: theatre, columns of stagehouse just a decorative column-screen, 219 Samos: aqueduct and harbour-moles, 238: Archaic ‘Ionic’ sarcophagus, 71; book of Rhoikos and Theodoros on first dipteros probably on technical problems solved, 236; no important new Hellenistic buildings, 9; Polykratean Heraion, never completed, 5, no clear system of intercolumniations, 14; Samos villa or palace, description, 165–6, probably built first half second century, used at least till midthird c. AD, 166, effective use of site, 162, 166, planning and visual effects recall Pergamene style, 166, total area may have been 5000–6000 m 2, 166, different from Campanian seaside villas based on Alexandrian models, 166 Samothrace: Archaic altar in ‘rustic’ setting, 212; Arsinoeion, 10, largest known roofed Greek round building, 75, description, 75–6, less ornamented than Epidauros Tholos and Philippeion, 75, bases and capitals of interior half-columns, capitals the earliest known approach to ‘normal’ Corinthian, 76, suggested form of roof, 76, dedicatory inscription and date, 76 and 291n37, bothros outside door suggests chthonic ritual, 76, a built-stone forerunner of later Roman round buildings of poured concrete, 76; Hieron aperipteral, 6, combination of archaizing and innovation, 12, remains of earlier apses inside late fourth-century apse, 12; Nike of Samothrace, picturesque setting, 212; political sponsorship, both Macedonian and Ptolemaic, 10; Ptolemaion 10, 13, description, including decorated Ionic canalis, 43–4, date, 43 and 285n41, Ptolemaic influence, 44 and 285n48, 47, setting, 212–13 and 323n36; ship monument, 10 S. Maria di Falleri: arched gateway, 185 St-R´emy de Provence: tomb of Julii, 95, 188 Sardis, Hellenistic Artemision: both deep pronaos and opisthodomos, 7; columns on square pedestals, 9; date of commencement, 7; early second-century plan an intricate variant of pseudodipteral with graded intercolumniations, 13–14; early work sponsored by Seleukids, 9, 11; large in scale, 9, 14; never finished, 9; original late-fourth-century plan may have had uniform intercolumniations, 10–11, perhaps influenced by Didymaion, both probably initiated by Lysimachos, 11; spans of porches quite long, but comparable with council-house/Priene, 138 Satyros: co-author with Pytheos in treatise on Halikarnassos Mausoleum, 80, 236; also occasionally a sculptor? 237

Index Sauvaget, J.: study of street-plans of Syrian cities, 63 Schneider, K.: article ‘Gymnasium’ in RE, 116 Segesta: fifth-century temple, 5; Italo-Hellenistic theatre, 109–10 and 302n92, 189, 190 Seleukeia Pieria: Hellenistic plan largely unknown, 63 Seleukid Syria: residential architecture, 168, Qasr elAbd, 168 Seleukid temples: Corinthian very popular in Seleukid Syria, influenced Roman Corinthian, 26, 224, 230–1; Greek temple in walled court perhaps Seleukid fusion of Greek and non-Greek forms, 25, 26; Hellenization of Seleukid domains, and development of true ‘Graeco-Syrian’ plans in Syrian heartland, 26; impressive record in central and western Asia Minor and in Greece, 25–6, Antiochos IV and Cossutius, 26; Jupiter temple had Seleukid predecessor, 26; legacy of Hellenistic Greek forms in non-Greek domains very durable, 26; some temples in major public areas? 16, Zeus Bottios temple in Antioch agora perhaps first example of such siting, 26 Selge: decorated towers, 35 Selinus: decorated towers, 35, 184, 234; North Gate defences, 184, 185 Shoe, Lucy (Meritt): study of chronology of Greek moulding-profiles, 104, 106 Side: vaulting in city walls, 113–14 Sidon: Mourning Women sarcophagus, 71 and 289n4 Sikyon: council-house, Dismoor’s suggested lantern not necessary, 145, date, variety of purposes served, 145; Kleisthenes built a dromos and a palaistra, 117; vaulting used in theatre, 110; palaistra (of Kleinias), 122–3 Silenos: Hellenistic(?) architect, wrote on symmetria of Doric buildings, according to Vitruvius, 236, 237; his work and condemnation of Doric by Pytheos responses to each other? 237 Sillyon: decorated towers, 35; flat arch in tower-gate, 247 siting of buildings: chapter on, 207–18; conspicuously placed and often showpieces, 63, examples at Pergamon, 214–16, Kos Asklepieion, 216–17, Athena Lindia 217–18 Skopas: architect of new temple of Alea Athena at Tegea, 221, 230, 236; association with sculpture of new Artemision at Ephesos, 9; both sculptor and architect, 237; introduced fluted cauliculus in Corinthian capital, 223

459 Sostratos of Knidos: engineer, designer of Pharos at Alexandria and a ‘hanging stoa’ at Knidos, 92–3 and 297nn187, 194; an outstanding ‘engineering architect,’ 237 Sparta: Persian Stoa in agora, mentioned by Pausanias, 52; Skias a round building, Pausanias mentions another fairly large round building nearby, 31 Stadia: general discussion, 111–14; Amphipolis practice-tracks, 113, 124–5; Athens, Panathenaic Stadium, poros seats Lykourgan, marble rebuilding by Herodes Atticus, second century AD, and in 1896, 113; Delphi stadium, third century with Roman rebuilding, 113, but had arched Hellenistic entrance, 113; Epidauros stadium, straight-ended like Olympia, 100-ft. markers, 112 and 303n104, vaulted tunnel under one side embankment, 112 and 303n101, 114; Greek theatres and stadia simple in origin, 111, like most Greek public buildings, in contrast to their Roman successors, especially stadia, 111; Nemea stadium, 112–13, drinking water provided, 100-ft. markers, some stone seats on both sides, late-fourth-century vaulted passage from Sacred Way, 112, 113, 114; no direct evidence of seating over a series of vaults, 113; Olympia stadium, history and final form, 112–13, entrancegate and vaulted passage, 112, 113, hippodrome probably similar, and like early Circus Flaminius at Rome, 112; origin of word stadion, and essential requirements for a stadium, 111; Perge stadium with ramping vaults doubtless Roman, yet vaulting extensively used in Hellenistic walls of Perge and Side, and on acropolis at Lindos, 113–14, masonry of these and other vaults all in Hellenistic tradition, without mortar or concrete, 114; Roman date or influence still awaits proof, even concrete vaults of Pompey’s theatre/Rome part of an ItaloHellenistic tradition, 114; Stephen Miller’s research into arrangements for longer races, 113 Stoas: chapter on, 50–70, introduction: importance of colonnades in both public and residential architecture 50–1, most effectively used in Hellenistic times, 50, term also used of ‘basilican’ buildings, 51, what buildings may be called stoas? 51; columnar orders in, 65–70, some early stoas Ionic, but from Classical onward normal order Doric, 65, Ionic only in small structures and interiors, 65, advantages of cordiform piers at internal angles of facade, 69–70 and 288–9n99,

460 Corinthian rare, 65, Doric capitals enlivened by abacus mouldings or egg-and-dart echinus, 66, more carving on abacus and ends of bolster in Ionic, 66, experiments with form of corner capitals, combinations of orders, mixed orders and leafcapitals, 66, height of order determined by practical considerations, 55, 67, problems of shorter columns in upper of two storeys, 67–8, polytriglyphy, 68 and 288–9n95, in Doric stoas, solutions to decreased height:length ratio of architrave spans, 58–9; cordiform piers, 69–70; Coulton’s study now the essential starting-point, 51; drawbacks of long winged stoas for defining agora, 54; earliest stoas all in sanctuaries, 51, provided shelter and space for display of dedications and trophies, 52, later also in secular contexts for commemorative purposes or for religious or state ceremonies, 52, Stoa Poikile at Athens first of long line of stoas used as instruments of politics or public relations, 52–3, as were the porticoes erected in Rome by generals and magistrates, 52; early stoa buildings and later specialized applications of type, 51–2, often treated in Hellenistic as one element in large complex, 51; L-shaped stoas, 56, 58–9, Perachora stoa two-storeyed, like Asklepieion Stoa/Athens, 56, doubling floor area without increasing length and breadth, 56; materials and finish more utilitarian than in temples, except in showpieces, 65, many floors packed earth or earth and stone-chips, 65, omission of fluting, use of flat Ionic arrises and facetting, 65–6, earliest facetting in ‘incubation stoa’ at Epidauros, later even in temples (Uzuncaburc¸, Hera Basileia/Pergamon), 66; no rigid rules in spacing of interior columns, 67; Olympia, Echo Stoa, 50, 54, 112, 210; Pergamene two-storeyed stoas, 56, backed against higher ground in Athena sanctuary-library complex/Pergamon, 57; singlestoreyed stoas with one or more basement levels, 57, 59; stoas with colonnaded facades both long sides, or even all four sides, 64, function of such buildings, 64; stoas continuous around three sides of area, and generally in agoras of ‘Hippodamian’ towns of Asia Minor, 55–6; stone colonnades required sturdier, more closely set columns, but interior columns still widely spaced, 66–7; three-aisled stoas, 60; use of L-shaped stoas at Miletos and Aigai, 58; variety of arrangements possible behind facade of two-aisled stoa, 58; wooden colonnades in stoas, 65, 66–7, 69 Stratos: overall scale small, 14; 6 × 11 peristyle and

Index small, square cella of temple of Zeus, 6, proportions of nave reshaped by adding interior supports, 6 and 275n12, 221 Surkh Kotal: Greek elements in temple a Seleukid heritage, 26 Suweida: tomb of Hamrath Doric, 15, 228 Syracuse: Altar of Hieron II, 20–1, -shaped colonnade facing altar, 20–1, but no columns and reliefsculpture as found at Pergamon, 21; Eyryalos fort, 184; history of theatre, 109 and 302n91, visual effect in cityscape, 207; third-century theatre proskenion used Ionic supports, 108; Timoleonteion used as palaistra inside city walls, 118, 120, 130, had heroon of Timoleon, 120; West Gate of Epipolai, 34 Syria: great cities founded by Seleukos I Nikator, 63 Ta Marmara Heroon: analogies with Miletos Councilhouse, 85; description, 85; near Didyma, 82 Taormina: ‘temple of Serapis,’ ‘false’ opisthodomos, 16 Tarentum: role as point of entry for E Mediterranean influences, 187–8 Tarn, W.W.: contribution to proper appreciation of Hellenistic achievement, 248 Tegea: Athena temple, columns late Doric in style; date of building, 275n3; non-Doric decorative half-columns in interior, 220, in two tiers, with Corinthian used as independent order, 221, Corinthian capitals with fluted cauliculus used for first time here, 223 Telmessos: Amyntas a Macedonian name, 87; date probably late fourth century, 87; Tomb of Amyntas, 86–7 and 276n24 temenos: Hellenistic temenos often enhanced by stoa on one or more sides, 17; nature of Hellenistic group-designs, 17–18; Roman type of axiality rare, 17 temples in general: aperipteral plans, 6; archaizing in plan after late fifth century, 5; completely new temples generally small, 6; Corinthian rare in Aegean and Asia Minor, common in Seleukid, Ptolemaic, 29, and Italo-Hellenistic, 29–30; deep front pteron and omission of opisthodomos revival of late Archaic idea, 6–7, abandoned by fifthcentury designers, 7; few or no new temples in older cities and sanctuaries, 5, 9–10; great epoch of temple-building later Archaic and post-Persian, 5; greater emphasis on surface ornament in Hellenistic architecture, 28, 29; Hellenistic and Italo-Hellenistic

Index visual effects, 18, 21–2; Hellenistic temples change interior and exterior proportions, 12–14, increase both proportion of overall area devoted to cella and ornament of cella and porches, 30; influence of traditional sacred spots, 18; new fifth-century temples as monuments to civic pride, 5, might drag on or remain unfinished, 5; new Hellenistic emphasis on temenos and propylon, but completely axial designs rare, 17; new temples innovative, with less archaizing than in fourth century, 19, and often in or near major built-up areas, with emphasis on front of building, 16–17; no really large temples in Thrace and Macedonia, 14; number of Doric temples in Hellenistic Asia Minor, 14, due to Pergamene, probably also Seleukid, influence, 29; opisthodomos introduced in Eastern Ionic by Pytheos, 7; partially colonnaded precincts occur in Classical as well as later, 25, elaborate examples associated with Egyptian models, 25; planning of position of temple within precinct and in relation to propylon, 17–19; reasons for changes in scale of, 5–6; rebuilt older temples, 5; Seleukids and Ptolemies more active as patrons of temple-building than Antigonids and Attalids, 22–3, introduced completely walled courts, 26; shorter, wider peristyles from late fifth century onward, and result of retaining opisthodomos, 6; in small precincts temple right at back, or projected beyond back wall, 17; temples facing across, or along length of, agora, 80; temples in Italy, 21–2, 192–8 Teos, Dionysos temple: architect Hermogenes, 12, an earlier work, 14; influence of Pytheos, 12 Termessos: adapting of buildings to landscape on rugged site, 214; council-house, 147, 148, close to agora, 147, description, 148, doubtless built as public-relations exercise, 149, exterior walls well preserved, 147, 148, gift of Attalos II who also built new stoa in agora? 148, ground rises steeply to back wall, rear door level with top of seats, 147, probably four interior columns, 148, seating capacity ca. 600, 148, but building larger and more imposing then Priene hall, 148, and more easily converted to temporary odeion, 148, such buildings doubtless influenced design of Messene hall, 148 Terracina: Sullan temple of Jupiter, visual effect, 22, and cf. with Hellenistic, 22; use of Corinthian, 195; vaulted underpinnings of precinct, 22, 114 Thasos: commercial warehouse outside agora, first century AD, 154, comparison with similar

461 Hellenistic buildings, 154; proskenion-stage in theatre, 102 and 300–1n49, 103–4 and 301n54; superimposed orders on inner face Gate of Zeus and Hera, 35, 221; tower of Akeratos, 297n196 theatres: chapter on, 96–114; complete stone stagehouse and koilon at Athens dated to time of Lykourgos (338–325), 99, but more recent studies suggest end of fourth century for latter, 99, some stone elements, including new temple of Dionysos, once dated late fifth century, reassigned to fourth, 99; decline of tragedy and Old Comedy, rise of New Comedy, beginning of theatre design as monumental architecture, 96–7; early development of skene very obscure, 98, evidence of S Italian vase-scenes, 98; early drama a religious festival, 96, its forms, technical terms, and conventions as background for later developments, 97–8; early (?) Hellenistic stagehouse model in Naples, a predecessor of Roman scaenae frons, 98 and 299n20, 109, 189 and 318n52, 190, Attic redfigured fragment, 98 and 299n21, evidence from Athens, 98–9, and Corinth, 98 and 299n22; early rectilinear orchestras at Athens and elsewhere, 97 and 298–9n13, retained even in Hellenistic times at Trachones in Attika, 97, perhaps circular orchestra at Athens not before early fourth century, 97, adopted elsewhere through influence of Athens, 97; early wooden seats (ikria) in Archaic Athens perhaps always in straight rows, 97–8, curvilinear seats in hollow of hillside only with curvilinear orchestras, usually needed retaining walls (analemmata), 98; fourth-century stagehouse wings (paraskenia), probably low wooden stage between wings, 101– 2; history of early Athenian skene, production machinery, and scenery, 98–9 and 299n24, scenery with buildings in perspective, 99, perhaps low wooden stage in front of skene at both Athens and Corinth, 99, 101 and 300nn38–9, different chronology suggested by Goette, 99–100 and 299n31, discussion and alternative suggestion, 100– 1, R. Bees and Schieckel model, 100, 300n33, shape of Athenian stone auditorium fixed by position of Odeion of Perikles, 98, wooden seats determined orientation of Odeion, 300n33; low wooden stages in Athenian drama? 98 and 299n21; Lykourgan skene at Athens and introduction of flat-roofed proskenion to meet needs of New Comedy, 101–2, Athenian stone proskenion and proskenion of Peiraieus theatre both probably early Hellenistic, 103 and

462 301n53, soon copied elsewhere, 102, curtailment or elimination of paraskenia the final phase of history of Greek theatre, 102–3; moulding dates for Priene and Epidauros stagehouses disputed, 103, 104–6; Mytilene theatre admired by Pompey, 190, 240, but certainly not overall model for his theatre at Rome, which was built in same decade as latest Roman wooden theatres, 190; origin of terms orchestra, skene, choros, and theatron, 97, 98, auditoria set into hillside known as the ‘hollow’ (koilon), theatron extended to include entire theatre, 98; parodos-gates decorative, 107; peristyle behind Pompeii stagehouse a South Italian innovation? 189–90, later recommended by Vitruvius and found in Pompey and Balbus theatres/Rome, 108, 190; Pompeii theatre, history of, 189–90, strictly semicircular cavea Italic, 190, allowed for towerlike paraskenia, 190; proskenion facades originally had free-standing columns, usually Doric, 107–8, later had heavier and stronger half-columns-onpiers to allow wider spans, 108, most proskenia used simpler Doric, but a few Ionic known, 108; reduction in size of orchestra after appearance of proskenion-stage, 107; remarkable wooden ‘doubletheatre’ of C. Scribonius Curio, of 52 BC, with rotating auditoria, 191; Roman skill in wooden construction aided in building temporary theatres on level ground, 189, permanent stone theatres long resisted in Rome, 189, later concrete skeletons, with radiating passages and ring-corridors, probably reproduce wooden layout, 189; scaena ductilis, 100– 1 and 300nn34–5; Segesta (and Pompeii, Selinus, and Syracuse) include features from Aegean world, 109 and 302nn89, 92, 189, but Segesta’s tiered columnar decoration Western, 189, inspired by Western wooden backdrops, 189, the tradition from which Roman scaenae frons derived, 189; stagehouse, orchestra, and auditorium of Greek theatre never a unified whole, 107; standardizing influence of Hellenistic actors’ guilds and popularity of Attic drama encouraged Western use of mainland Greek conventions, 104, 109; technique of rising tiers of wooden seats came to Rome from Etruria, 189; theatre at Megalopolis and the Thersilion, 100–1; thyromata in episkenion, as at Oropos, for scenery and interior sets, 102–3, 107 and 302n74, more flexible than elaborate Roman scaenae frons, 107; two traditions in Western Greek theatre design, 109–10; vaulted underground passages and

Index vaulting supporting seats, 110; visual effects from theatre auditoria, 207; West Greek theatres and scenes on South Italian vases, costumes of phlyakes performers, 109, 189; wooden skene made changes of painted scenery easier, survived into Hellenistic, 101, 108; wooden theatres of Campania and S Italy being replaced in stone no later than early second century, 189, probably some stone auditoria even in fourth century, 189, these built against hill, as were some later examples, 189–90 Thebes: no important Hellenistic buildings known, 9; short, wide peristyle of new Ismenion, 6 Themelis, P.: excavations in area of Messene stadium and palaistra, 125 and 306n75 Theodoros of Samos: builder and metallurgist, 236, 237 Theodoros of Phokaia: architect of Tholos at Delphi, author of book on it, 72 Theodotos: architect of Asklepios temple, Epidauros, 236 Thermon: Archaic temple of Apollo standing till late third century, 6; council-house with colonnaded porch, 146, probably interior columns and tiers of wooden seats in rectangle, 333; Hellenistic additions to sanctuary due to Aitolian national pride, 10; stoas and ornamental exedras, 10 Thrace and Macedonia: many small, no really large temples, 6 Timgad: forum porticoes with shops, 202–3 Tivoli: Hercules temple, visual effect, 22, cf. Kos and Lindos, 22, included theatre, 22, 197, Via Tiburtina passed under precinct, 203; temples overlooking Anio gorge ‘archaic’ in siting, Ionic and Corinthian capitals contemporary Italic, 22 Tomlinson, R.A.: on date of Lion Tomb/Knidos, 293nn86, 94; on prejudice of East Greek architects against Doric, 221 Townsend, R.: on date of use of breccia in Dionysos precinct/Athens, 99 Travlos, J.: on date of first stone skene in Athens, 99, 100 triangular truss: first developed by Greeks in Hellenistic times, 137, theory of discovery by Archaic Sicilian Greek architects not accepted, 147 and 310n59, perhaps earliest example in rooms W side of court/Vergina? 164–5; long-span trussed ceilings never used by Greeks on scale found in Italic and Roman work, 138, 144, 203, 243, one of greatest Italo-Hellenistic achievements, 192,

Index longest definitely known Hellenistic spans found in council-house at Miletos, 146–7, 137, small theatre in Asklepieion/Messene, if roofed, probably Roman, 137 Trier/Augusta Treverorum: Roman basilica, 192 Troy: Doric temple of Athena, 14; proskenion in Greek theatre, 102 and 300–1n49 Trumper, M.: study of Delian houses, 158, 180, 181 ¨ Tyndaris: despite location, site not as impressive as Pergamene work in Asia Minor, 214; theatre, 109, 110, 207 tyrants: great temple-builders, 5; probably had luxurious houses, 157; schemes often too expensive to complete, 5 Uzuncaburc¸ (Olba): overall design of temple typically Hellenistic, 28; Seleukid sponsorship of temple, 10, 25, 28, 230–1, of stoa, 17, 25, 279n90, some Alexandrian features in temple, but architect not necessarily an Alexandrian, 28; temple of Zeus, columns, probably first temple in this order, 28, also earliest known example of faceting-fluting combination in Corinthian temple, 28, capitals unique, original logic of Corinthian replaced by proliferation of ornament, 28–9, mixture of Seleukid and Alexandrian features, 223 Varro: his Casinum villa, 159 vaults and arches: in granaries, 151–2, 153, widespread and skilful use by Hellenistic architects, 155; ItaloHellenistic use of arch together with concrete the foundation of Roman triumphs, 198, framing of arched openings with half-columns or pilasters Roman, 198, framing of commemorative arches and arcades with half-columns also Roman innovation, 198–9; opening of arched shape in fifth-century Etruscan Tomba del Tablino, 198, but definite Etruscan evidence Hellenistic, 198; in theatres and stadia, and elsewhere in Hellenistic work, 87, 89–90, 110, 113–14, 246–7; voussoir arches shown on Hellenistic Etruscan ash-urns, and used in city-gates, 198 Velia: Hellenistic bath with hypocaust and circle of tubs, 132, 133–4; polygonal masonry used, 186; Porta Rosa, 187; use of baked bricks at, 132; urban remodelling, 186 Vergina, Rhomaios Tomb, decorative half-columns-onpilasters of facade, 87, 233 Vergina Great Mound tombs: dates for all three tombs between 350 and end of century, 89, ‘Tomb of

463 Philip II’ now widely accepted as tomb of that monarch, 89; excavated by M. Andronikos, 89, general description and significance, 89–90 and 296nn159–64 Vergina palace: general description, 163–5; date, 163 and 313n50, 164; double-half-columns-on-piers in main entrance and in ‘pass-through’ on S side of court, 48, 233; importance of palace, 160, 162; large rooms on W side of court may be earliest example of long-span trussed ceiling, 164–5, in that event trusswork a Macedonian development, 165; no evidence of gardens or pools, 165; on site of old Macedonian capital Aigeiai, 88–9 and 296n157; use of sloping site for visual effects, 162 Virgil: on Roman debt to Greek sculpture, 235 Vitruvius: and classicizing orthodoxy of Augustan Rome, 28–9, 239; basilica at Fanum, 137, 247; baths and bath terminology, 115–16 and 303–4nn5– 6; column-spacings and eustyle plan, 13, 27; De Architectura unique in classical Latin literature, 243–4; Egyptian oeci, 160; features in his houses of the wealthy, and in country villas, 159; his ‘Greek house,’ 160–1; his ‘Greek palaistra,’ 129–31; knew and used handbooks and treatises of earlier architectural writers, 236–7, 242, 243, many of whose works known only from his list, 236, gives no idea of specific contents of their books, 236, and they are not cited in chronological order, 236, but his opinions on Greek architectural theory and practice based almost entirely on their work, 237, 241; large houses with two peristyles, 162; and Mausoleum, 78, 79, 291n52; pseudodipteral, 13; several, though not all, his writers on symmetria sculptors and painters, 236; some of his attitudes conservative, but did insist on training in mechanical and civil engineering, 239– 40; story of Alexander’s critique of Deinokrates, 236, 237, and of Likymnios on Apatourios’s work at Tralles, 237; training of architects, 7, 240, this training enabled Roman architects to appreciate practical applications of theoretical research, 240, as their Hellenistic predecessors never did, 247; on trusses and mortarwork, 247; work of all Greek writers on mechanics listed by him was in engineering, not in architecture, 236, 237, none of known architectural designers seem to have been engineers, 237, with exception of Sostratos of Knidos? 237 Voigtl¨ander, W.: on chronology of Didyma temple, 277n51; and Mausoleum sculpture, 292nn64, 84

464 Volterra (Volaterrae): arched gateway, 198 von Gerkan, Armin: studies of theatres at Priene and (with W. Muller-Wiener) Epidauros, 103–7 ¨ Wacker, C.: monograph on Olympia gymnasium, takes account of later studies, 116 Waywell, G.B.: on Mausoleum sculptures, 292nn64, 84 Welter, G.: and Athenian Olympieion, 27 Wood, J.T.: discoveries at Ephesos, 8–9 Worcester, Mass.: ash-urn with voussoir arch in Art Museum, 198 Wulzinger, K.: studied council-house of Latmian Herakleia, published account of building in Krischen’s Antike Rath¨auser, 144 Xanthian Letoon: Corinthian in interior of Temple A, 15; discussion of main buildings in sanctuary, 15–16; Doric stoa, 16; Doric used in Temple B, 16; ‘false opisthodomos’ of Temple A paralleled at Akragas and Taormina, 16; less carefully planned than Magnesia/Artemis, 16; patronage of merchants and sailors using sea-route, 10;

Index perhaps indicate Italic influence? 16, 185, 246; series of Hellenistic buildings unusual for time, 6; this part of Lykia exposed to many different influences, and developed own highly eclectic traditions, 16; use of all three orders in sanctuary, 16, 24; vaulted entrances to theatre, 110, 114, 246 Xanthos: earlier pillar-tombs and ‘sarcophagushouses’ mostly built for Lykian nobility, 77; Heroon G, 77; Nereid Monument: modified Eastern Ionic bases, 13, native Lykian type of monument with Greek modifications, 13, 77, description, 77–8, capitals derived from Erechtheion/Athens, among earliest ‘diagonal’ Ionic, 77, date early fourth century, 78, 291n47, earliest example of exterior intercolumnar statues, 77, earliest example of later very popular tomb-type, 78; partly reassembled in British Museum, 77, Persian, Ionic, later also Attic influences in Lykia, 76–7 Xenokles: architect associated with completion of Telesterion IV / Eleusis, 136, 139–40 Yaras¸, A.: article on gymnasia in TAD (1997), 116

PHOENIX SUPPLEMENTARY VOLUMES

1 Studies in Honour of Gilbert Norwood

edited by Mary E. White

2 Arbiter of Elegance: A Study of the Life and Works of C. Petronius 3 Sophocles the Playwright

S.M. Adams

4 A Greek Critic: Demetrius on Style

G.M.A. Grube

5 Coastal Demes of Attika: A Study of the Policy of Kleisthenes 6 Eros and Psyche: Studies in Plato, Plotinus, and Origen 7 Pythagoras and Early Pythagoreanism 8 Plato’s Psychology 9 Greek Fortifications

Gilbert Bagnani

C.W.J. Eliot

John M. Rist

J.A. Philip

T.M. Robinson F.E. Winter

10 Comparative Studies in Republican Latin Imagery

Elaine Fantham

11 The Orators in Cicero’s ‘Brutus’: Prosopography and Chronology G.V. Sumner 12 ‘Caput’ and Colonate: Towards a History of Late Roman Taxation Walter Goffart 13 A Concordance to the Works of Ammianus Marcellinus 14 Fallax opus: Poet and Reader in the Elegies of Propertius 15 Pindar’s ‘Olympian One’: A Commentary

Geoffrey Archbold John Warden

Douglas E. Gerber

16 Greek and Roman Mechanical Water-Lifting Devices: The History of a Technology 17 The Manuscript Tradition of Propertius

John Peter Oleson

James L. Butrica

18 Parmenides of Elea Fragments: A Text and Translation with an Introduction

edited by David Gallop

19 The Phonological Interpretation of Ancient Greek: A Pandialectal Analysis V´ıt Buben´ık 20 Studies in the Textual Tradition of Terence

John N. Grant

21 The Nature of Early Greek Lyric: Three Preliminary Studies

R.L. Fowler

22 Heraclitus Fragments: A Text and Translation with a Commentary

edited by T.M. Robinson

23 The Historical Method of Herodotus

Donald Lateiner

24 Near Eastern Royalty and Rome, 100–30 BC

Richard D. Sullivan

25 The Mind of Aristotle: A Study in Philosophical Growth 26 Trials in the Late Roman Republic, 149 BC to 50 BC

John M. Rist

Michael Alexander

27 Monumental Tombs of the Hellenistic Age: A Study of Selected Tombs from the Pre-Classical to the Early Imperial Era Janos Fedak 28 The Local Magistrates of Roman Spain

Leonard A. Curchin

29 Empedocles The Poem of Empedocles: A Text and Translation with an Introduction

edited by Brad Inwood

30 Xenophanes of Colophon Fragments: A Text and Translation with a Commentary 31 Festivals and Legends: The Formation of Greek Cities in the Light of Public Ritual

J.H. Lesher Noel Robertson

32 Reading and Variant in Petronius: Studies in the French Humanists and Their Manuscript Sources 33 The Excavations of San Giovanni di Ruoti, Volume 1: The Villas and Their Environment Robert J. Buck 34 Catullus Edited with a Textual and Interpretative Commentary

Wade Richardson

Alastair M. Small and

D.F.S. Thomson

35 The Excavations of San Giovanni di Ruoti, Volume 2: The Small Finds Reece and J.J. Rossiter

C.J. Simpson, with contributions by R.

36 The Atomists: Leucippus and Democritus Fragments: A Text and Translation with a Commentary 37 Imagination of a Monarchy: Studies in Ptolemaic Propaganda 38 Aristotle’s Theory of the Unity of Science

R.A. Hazzard

Malcolm Wilson

39 Empedocles The Poem of Empedocles: A Text and Translation with an Introduction, Revised Edition Brad Inwood 40 The Excavations of San Giovanni di Ruoti, Volume 3: The Faunal and Plant Remains contributions by A. Eastham, S.G. Monckton, D.S. Reese, and D.G. Steele 41 Justin and Pompeius Trogus: A Study of the Language of Justin’s ’Epitome’ of Trogus 42 Studies in Hellenistic Architecture

C.C.W. Taylor

Frederick E. Winter

edited by

M.R. McKinnon, with J.C. Yardley