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A thesis submitted to the Graduate School of the University of Cincinnati in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Master of Arts
in the Department of Classics of the College of Arts and Sciences
Spring 2011 By
Margaret N. Sneeringer
B.A., Archaeology, Boston University, 2009
Committee Co-chairs: Steven Ellis, Ph.D., and Eleni Hatzaki, Ph.D.
This thesis examines archaeological evidence for the economic and social changes which occurred in the Cyclades, Greece, while the area was under Roman influence and control from the second century BC to the fourth century AD. I will use specific islands (Melos, Paros, Sikinos, Keos, Delos, Syros, and Tenos) as case studies to demonstrate larger trends or characteristics of economic strategies and expressions of identity on several scales, ranging from individual settlements to island landscapes to the island group as a whole. Among both modern and ancient scholars, the preconception exists that compared to the former glory of the islands during the Classical and Hellenistic periods, the period of Roman administration in the Cycladic islands was characterized by economic and cultural poverty, offering little of value to the rest of the empire. In fact, the archaeology of the Cyclades offers strong indications of successful local economies, as well as an excellent opportunity to examine the complex dialogue between Greek and Roman culture and to explore aspects of identity expressed through material culture. The dynamic nature of the power landscape in the Cyclades is reflected in the architecture, settlement patterns, and waxing and waning in significance of various island polities throughout the Roman period, and a resilient sense of local island identity is evident in the archaeological remains.
Thanks gladly go out to all who have guided and supported me through this process. I would like to express my gratitude especially to Prof. Jack Davis, who suggested the Roman Cyclades as a topic, and who generously gave helpful feedback despite being busy in Athens. My cochairs Prof. Eleni Hatzaki and Prof. Steven Ellis were instrumental, and I thank them for their valuable insights, comments, and suggestions on archaeological theory and Roman archaeology respectively during the entire researching and writing process. My thanks also go to Prof. Kathleen Lynch who provided useful advice in the beginning stages, and to Prof. Curtis Runnels, and to the staff of the Burnam Library. Last but not least, I am indebted to all the archaeologists and scholars who have studied and published about the Cyclades over the past centuries. My supportive, patient, forgiving parents, of course, have my gratitude as well. My heartfelt appreciation must happily go to Catherine Baker and David Schwei, both of whom patiently listened to my ignorant questions about Roman archaeology and history and pointed me in the direction of useful resources, and to MaryBeth Banovetz and Emilia Oddo for general maintenance of my mental well-being. Finally, I would like to extend a general thank you to all my colleagues in the UC Classics Department, who have been helpful in so many ways, whether they are aware of it or not!
For James G. Sneeringer, Sr., September 28, 1921 – February 7, 2011
Table of Contents
Abstract………………………………………………………………………………..….ii Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………...….....iv List of Figures………………………………………………………………………..….vii Introduction………………………………………………………………………………1 Temporal framework Island archaeology Identity Romanization Future directions Economy, Architecture, and Identity……………………………………………….…..19 Melos and mineral exploitation Paros and Parian Marble A funeral monument on Sikinos Discussion Settlement and Landscape………………………………………………………………41 Melos: a single-polis island Keos: a multi-polis island Landscape and Imperialism Discussion The Cycladic Island Group………………………………………………………….…..57 Syros and the “epigraphic habit” Delos and resident Italians/Romans Tenos, sailors, and pirates Discussion Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………....71 Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………….79 Appendix………………………………………………………………………………..99
List of Figures
Figure 1 Modern satellite image of the Mediterranean from Google Earth................................... 1 Figure 2 The Cyclades. .................................................................................................................. 2 Figure 3 Results of the Melos Survey Project.............................................................................. 20 Figure 4 "Special purpose" sites on Melos and the location of the Aghia Kyriaki Survey. ........ 22 Figure 5 Marathi marble quarries, central Paros. ......................................................................... 29 Figure 6 (left) Underground marble quarry, Paros. Figure 7 (right) Relief at the entrance of the Quarry of the Nymphs, Paros. ............................... 31 Figure 8 The Augustus of Prima Porta......................................................................................... 32 Figure 9 Arrow indicates location of the church/tomb on Sikinos. ............................................. 35 Figure 10 West facade of the church/tomb. ................................................................................. 36 Figure 11 Sepulchral epigram in the doorway. ............................................................................ 36 Figure 12 Half-statue from nearby field. ..................................................................................... 37 Figure 13 Distribution of classical sites according to the Melos Survey Project. ....................... 44 Figure 14 Distribution of Hellenistic sites according to the Melos Survey Project. .................... 45 Figure 15 Distribution of Roman sites according to the Melos Survey Project. ......................... 45 Figure 16 Mosaic detail (3rd cent. AD) from the Hall of the Mystae, Melos.............................. 46 Figure 17 Keos, with the ancient poleis and their notional boundaries according to the Keos Survey, and the survey area shaded. ........................................................................... 49 Figure 18 Distribution of Roman finds from the Keos Survey. ................................................... 51 Figure 19 A typical public banquet inscription from Syros, found on Tenos (IG XII 5, 667). ... 59 Figure 20 Agora des Italiens, with phases of surrounding shop construction (phase 1 in red, phase 2 in blue, and phase 3 in green). ....................................................................... 63 Figure 21 Reconstruction of the west quarter and the Agora des Italiens (#52). ......................... 63 Figure 22 Mediterranean shipwrecks by century. ........................................................................ 68
Chapter 1: Introduction
Southeast of the Greek mainland is a collection of small, rocky islands called the Cyclades—one of the many island groups which fill the Aegean Sea. Today, the island economies are mainly supported by a healthy tourism industry, and we conceive of this group of islands as a unified geographical and political entity because of a similarity of landscape and their proximity to each other. To an outside observer, the people who live on these islands have a distinct and
unquestionably Greek cultural identity—but regional cultural traits, such as architecture, local cuisine, and music, are recognizably different from those of the mainland.
Figure 1 Modern satellite image of the Mediterranean from Google Earth. The red box indicates the Cyclades.
Figure 2 The Cyclades.
The Cycladic islands (figs. 1 and 2) have a long and turbulent history of occupation. The focus of this paper will be the economic and social changes while the area was under Roman control, with special attention to expressions of identity visible in the material culture remains. I will use specific islands (Melos, Paros, Sikinos, Keos, Delos, Syros, and Tenos) as case studies to demonstrate larger trends or characteristics. To some extent I am limited by the data, because a majority of the archaeological research has been concentrated on prehistoric sites and rescue operations, and modern settlements in many cases cover the primary urban centers of antiquity. In addition, the impression of the Cyclades as marginal and peripheral locations suitable only for exiles in the Roman period has resulted in an archaeological agenda which focuses mainly on prehistoric and Classical remains. The preconception exists that, compared to the former glory of the islands during the Classical and Hellenistic periods when Delos played a prominent role in the religious landscape of ancient Greece, the period of Roman administration of the Cycladic islands was characterized by economic and cultural poverty, offering little of value to the rest of the empire. In fact, the Cyclades provide the opportunity to examine the complex dialogue between Greek and Roman culture, as well as to explore aspects of identity expressed through material culture. Because the governmental polis structure was not significantly altered by the Romans (relative to the difference between Iron Age and Roman Britain, for example) and because of the long history of contact between Greece and Rome, the social changes in island society were more subtle, but more culturally charged with memory. The changing economic and social pressures faced by the islands created a sink-or-swim situation in which some islands successfully reinvented their economies to exploit unique niches in the new Roman market, while others fell to impoverishment and piracy. One-time success did not ensure continued prosperity, though,
and the power landscape of the Cyclades as an island group was dynamic. This dynamism is reflected in the architecture, settlement patterns, and waxing and waning in significance of various island polities throughout the Roman period.
Temporal framework The earliest occupation on the Cycladic islands dates back at least to the Neolithic (approx. 7th through mid-4th millennia BC). Melos is the source of almost all obsidian found on the Greek mainland and other islands, and Naxos, the largest of the Cyclades, was an important marble source during prehistory. From this, we know that early populations were capable of sea travel and were also aware of the resources of each island. The civilization that arose during the Final Neolithic (c. 4200 – 3200 BC) and Early Bronze Age (c. 3200 – 2000 BC) has been the subject of a great deal of study, not only for its high degree of interaction with other areas without ever developing a large-scale, palace-based society, but also in terms of understanding colonization of marginal landscapes and early sea travel. Renfrew1 and Broodbank2 offer the best syntheses for the prehistoric periods in the Cyclades, but no comparable work exists for the post-Classical periods. The Archaic and Classical periods have been the subject of a fair amount of interest, because of the prominent role of Delos in particular. Currently uninhabited and functioning solely as an archaeological and tourist site, the island of Delos was once the religious and commercial center of the Cyclades. In fact, the name of the island system was given because the islands were
Renfrew 1972 Broodbank 2002
thought to form a kyklos, a ‘circle,’ around Delos3. The Cyclades did not come under the control of a single political entity until the fifth century BC, when Athens stepped in4, but this was relatively short-lived and political fragmentation continued to be a theme in the history of this island group. Various islands were awarded as spoils of war or were passed back and forth between the provinces of Achaia and Asia during the Roman period, and the islands of the Cyclades were neither as a whole nor simultaneously part of a single Roman province5. Roman influence and contact was significant in Greece and the Cyclades from the beginning of the 2nd century BC, although the Cyclades did not come formally under Roman administration until 27 BC, at the same time as the creation of the province of Achaia6. As elsewhere in the Mediterranean, the rule of Augustus (27 BC to 14 AD) had a significant impact on life under Roman administration, and during the first century CE the Roman empire experienced a period of unprecedented peace and economic unity. Archaeological, literary, and epigraphic evidence has demonstrated that a number of industries throughout the Roman empire underwent rapid expansion and widening distribution during this time. The Augustan program of renovation and construction of religious buildings and art was felt even in Athens7. The entire province of Achaia enjoyed the benefits of the Pax Romana until the Herulian invasion in 267 AD, but at the cost of all the previously-independent poleis being grouped together under the hegemony of the Roman administration; this loss of independence initiated by the Romans was actually maintained by subsequent political powers until the Greek War of
Constantakopoulou 2007, p. 25 Constantakopoulou 2007, p. 2 5 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 25 6 Alcock 1993, p. 9 7 Walker 1997, p. 80
Independence in the 19th century AD8. Given the long history of contact between the Greek and Roman cultures, the temporal scope of this paper will start at the beginning of the second century BC, and will continue until the early fourth century AD, when control of the Cyclades was ceded to the Byzantine empire.
Island archaeology J. D. Evans’9 proposal of islands as laboratories for the study of culture process was the concrete beginning of island archaeology as a separate field10. This concept of the ‘island laboratory’ was based on the idea that the topographic nature of an island created a closed system in which historical processes could be observed and quantified with greater certainty than on a mainland, where ancient boundaries were unknown or ambiguous11. There is a long history of theoretical work associated with islands and island systems, although most of the discussion has been focused on the South Pacific and early periods of the Caribbean12. The exclusion of the
Cyclades might be due in part to the geographical location as part of Greece, generally under the jurisdiction of Classical Studies, and the long history of an academic disconnect between archaeology of the Classical world versus World Prehistory and historical archaeology, in general. Broodbank also points out that the height of Cycladic prehistory came to a close before the major phases of occupation in Oceania and the Caribbean even began, so the relative place of the Cycladic civilizations in the grand scheme of world history, beyond the obvious
Alcock 1993, pp. 15-16 Evans 1973 10 Broodbank 2000, p. 6 11 Constantakopoulou 2007, p. 3 12 For example, Kirch 1984 and Terrell 1986, and more recently Keegan 1992, Fitzpatrick 2004, and Rainbird 2007
environmental factors, is significantly different13. Despite these setbacks, the Cyclades have a lot to offer the field of island archaeology, especially because of the incredible duration and density of occupation, and the relative wealth of archaeological material. The archaeological remains of the Roman period are often ignored or left unstudied by scholars looking for prehistoric remains, obscured by modern settlements, or have been robbed and reused by later populations, but research strategies and techniques are constantly improving and promise a better future. In many ways, the study of island archaeology has been dominated by dichotomies of isolation versus integration in island systems and the role of the sea as an impediment or facilitator to travel14. These types of discussions live on, simply because what is true for one island group is not necessarily true for another, and the polemic, reminiscent of the early days of the debate between New Archaeology and post-processual archaeology (especially between L. Binford and I. Hodder), perpetuates the all-or-nothing stances which ultimately retard the progression of theoretical paradigms. The constantly-changing degrees of connectivity and isolation are where the true potential for understanding the social impact of geography can be found. The concept of insularity is integral to understanding the mindsets of all early Greeks, both on the mainland and on the islands, because the implications and repercussions of either integration or isolation were so great for these early societies15. Erlandson16 emphasizes the idea that islands are social constructs as well as geographic entities, and this perspective is the key to looking at the Cyclades in the Roman period, when travel between islands and the mainland was wellestablished.
Broodbank 2000, p. 363 Broodbank 1999, Constantakopoulou 2007, Erlandson 2008, and Fitzpatrick and Anderson 2008b, for example 15 Constantakopoulou 2007 16 Erlandson 2008
Identity The archaeology of identity as we know it today is another area of study which has gained popularity in recent years17, from the roots of its modern application in the postprocessual movement of the late 1980s. Prior to the rise in interest in the role of the individual in societal developments, identity was mainly equated with ethnicity, and was seen as a quality which was objective and inherent18. As with an exceptional number of the terms associated with
archaeological theory-based discussions today, the idea of “identity” seems self-explanatory but is used by each author in many different ways. Díaz-Andreu and Lucy19 choose to emphasize individuals’ self-identification within broader groups, which are defined by socially-sanctioned differences. An essential point to remember is that people play active roles in constructing and altering identity: recognizing agency leads to concepts of identities that are fluid, memory-laden, and subject to persisting reinterpretation20, and this is the perspective I intend to utilize throughout this paper. In addition, identity can be perceived or assigned by people both internal and external to that group. Classical literary sources in particular are instrumental in demonstrating that (at least among ancient authors) there was an external conception of a distinction between mainlander and islander, and that being an islander was not the more desirable of the two. Constantakopoulou21 cites Thucydides as the classic demonstration of the use of this distinction between mainlander and islander as a means of illustrating his theme of Athenian imperialism
Jones 1997, Díaz-Andreu et al. 2005, and Insoll 2007, to name only a few Díaz-Andreu and Lucy 2005, p. 2 19 Díaz-Andreu and Lucy 2005, p. 1 20 Díaz-Andreu and Lucy 2005, p. 2 21 Constantakopoulou 2005, p. 2
(Thuc. Hist. V.84-116). Even early travel writing by explorers in the Mediterranean22 reveals the preconception that life on the islands progressed at a slower rate, with many of the customs and practices being more simple and agriculturally-based, without the benefit (or detriment) of modern technological innovation. The iconic polis system which arose in mainland Greece during the Classical period was also instituted on the islands, and had a heavy impact on early construction of identity. With a few exceptions, each island only had one polis, and so polis and island identity were effectively interchangeable. Constantakopoulou23 notes, however, that on islands with more than one polis, such as Keos or Amorgos, the trend seems to have been towards a stronger sense of island identity, with the members of different poleis showing stronger affinity for the island identity as opposed to their individual polis. The question for the Cyclades during the Roman period, then, is how this strong sense of island identity was altered, added to, or supplanted by aspects of Roman identity, and whether this was a pan-societal alteration, or one which affected different social classes in different ways.
Romanization “Romanization” is a blanket term used in research related to the Roman provinces, and an examination of identity and economy of the Cyclades in the Roman period necessarily must include a discussion of the development of this concept. At its most essential level,
Romanization is used to refer to transfer of Roman practices and material culture via contact associated with expansionism and colonialism. This issue is the subject of an enormous amount
Especially Bent 1885a Constantakopoulou 2005
of debate encompassing everything from the spelling of the term itself to the components of its definition. The origin of the idea of Romanization is deeply rooted in the colonial and
imperialist political climate of the 19th century, and this perspective has remained for the most part unchanged through the history of Classical scholarship. The realization that the model of Romanization must be reassessed and redefined is not a new one, and after twenty years of discourse incorporating the developments in archaeological and anthropological theory, as well as comparative studies with other areas of the world, a consensus is yet to be reached. This is not a bad thing—given the diversity of the material record within the geographic and temporal bounds of the Roman empire, any universally-applicable definition of Romanization would likely be too vague to be truly meaningful or useful; moreover, dialogue between scholars prevents the field from falling back into the comfortable (but unprofitable) state of inertia to which archaeology of the Mediterranean has been particularly susceptible. In order to better contextualize my approach, I will begin by discussing briefly both early and prevalent applications of the idea of Romanization, followed by a summary of recent scholars’ advances in understanding. Past As is often the case, the political and social contexts of major developments in scholarship are essential to understanding their formulation and subsequent impact. The long-standing and prevalent methodology for interpreting Roman history and Romanization studies are commonly accredited to three historians of the late 19th century: Theodor Mommsen, Henry Pelham, and Francis Haverfield. Mommsen’s contributions24 appeared during the growth of German
imperialism, and Freeman25 suggests that Mommsen’s work closely reflects his personal concerns and prejudices about Germany’s aspirations to international influence. Pelham26, a British contemporary of Mommsen and also a Roman historian and archaeologist, left his mark on Roman history and archaeology in his incorporation of European academic contributions into British scholarship. By emphasizing the similarity between Roman frontiers in Britain and Germany, he drove forward the idea of the uniform characteristics of life in Roman provinces27. Haverfield28 was heavily influenced both by his mentor Pelham and his admiration for the earlier work of Mommsen, and their use of Latin epigraphy in addition to ancient literary sources undoubtedly contributed to Haverfield’s perception of the Roman empire as a linguistically, and therefore culturally, homogeneous unit29. Equally important to the contributions of these scholars is the sociopolitical environment in which they occurred. The perceived similarity between the empires being carved out by the modern European nations and the Roman empire made this field of study particularly relevant, and it remained the subject of considerable interest throughout the years because of its integral position in the construction of “Western” identity30. Terrenato does point out, though, that despite the importance of Rome in the Western identity, it is really only a passive player: “While apparently a revered piece of the past, it is in reality a highly flexible element which is freely shaped to fit current ideological needs”31. At the time of Mommsen, Pelham, and Haverfield, the creation of the Roman empire through colonization and expansionism was seen as the prototype for nationalism and imperialism of the late 19th century, and the fixation on the process of
Freeman 1997, p. 34 Pelham 1911 27 Freeman 1997, p. 37 28 Haverfield 1923 29 Freeman 1997, p. 43 30 Terrenato 2005, p. 61 31 Terrenato 2005, p. 62
Romanization became an inseparable part of the study of Roman history and archaeology. Terrenato credits the general reluctance of Classical scholars for comparative arguments as an explanation for the relative lack of explicit comparisons between ancient and modern empires, but without question, the events and the symbols of the Roman empire were cleverly manipulated to create a “fictitious precedent” for the modern treatment of colonized lands in the 19th century32. This manipulation of archaeological and historical evidence for political gain is a recurring theme in the history of archaeology; immediate examples which spring to mind include the programs instituted by the Nazis and Saddam Hussein, as well as several modern governments which even today actively edit archaeological discoveries to better serve their political agenda. What is remarkable about the roots of the study of Romanization, though, is how long-lasting the effects were—serious reassessment of the concept did not even begin until the late 20th century. Implicit in the study of Roman imperialism and Romanization since the Romantic period is the assumption that those ancient emperors and politicians were actively pursuing a long-term mission to civilize their neighbors and extend the cultural influence of Rome, instead of working toward individual objectives focused on securing their social and political positions33. This early version of Romanization was characterized by a top-down diffusion of Roman cultural traits, either through language, architecture, pottery, or artistic expression. The elites represented the civilizing force, and the provincials were the variously grateful or resistant barbarians. This perspective was also closely tied to the type of scholarship now known as “culture history,” which was heavily based on evolutionary models that presupposed the inevitable progression of
Terrenato 2005, p. 64 Terrenato 2005, p. 63; Freeman 1997, p. 27
society from barbarism to urban civilization and mainly external impetuses for change, as well as the familiar “pots equals people” argument which equates material culture and identity/ethnicity. Much of the debate has centered on Britain and northwestern Europe, in part because the characteristics of the Roman versus local material culture are more clearly distinguished—a Germanic long house looks very different from a Roman villa, to use Carroll’s example34. The issue is not so clear in Greece, and the complications can be attributed to two main factors. First of all, in addition to the cultural influence carried by Roman officials, sailors, soldiers, and businessmen, elements of Greek culture were reciprocally conveyed back and adopted by Roman people. This transfer, commonly called “Hellenization,” is the subject of an equal amount of discussion, and the fact that it was occurring roughly contemporary with the beginnings of Romanization make it all the more difficult to distinguish true catalysts, sources, and effects of cultural change. The second factor is that the overall cultural impact of the Roman
administration has generally been assumed to be negligible, because there were not as many or as drastic transformations in the Greek political landscape upon its annexation by Rome35, as compared to somewhere like Britain or northwestern Europe. Present The growing “malaise” among younger scholars regarding the stale and static definition and application of Romanization was noted by Mattingly36 in the proceedings of the first Roman Archaeology Conference, as well as efforts to incorporate advances and developments in archaeological theory in general. The search is no longer for the traces of civilizing force of Roman administration, but rather for the true nature of the cultural dialogue which occurred and
Carroll 2001 Alcock 1989a, p. 95 36 Mattingly 1997b
the experiences of all parties involved.
The range of recent opinions even includes the
suggestion that the term “Romanization” be scrapped entirely, and that archaeologists and historians should instead consider the constituent parts as questions in their own right. Identity, elite emulation, and landscape change, to name a few, are valid research questions on their own, and perhaps more manageable. Most importantly, though, the top-down model for diffusion of cultural influence and traits has been replaced by consideration of bottom-up change, “creolisation,” and other forms of cultural mixing37. Given’s38 insights represent another effort at seeing beyond the bias toward elite material culture to understand strategies of resistance and agency among colonized societies, especially the lower classes. He emphasizes the active role played by members of the colonized society in the alteration or maintenance of their social structure, as well as advocating the importance of understanding the range of responses in order to better contextualize idiosyncrasies and exceptions39. A quick survey of recent book reviews40 also reveals that the presence and role of Roman administration and cultural influence in the provinces is experiencing considerable reevaluation for the better, as well as a more self-reflexive perspective. It would be naïve to say that we are now safe from any colonialist or imperialist interpretations, but the state of the dominant interpretive paradigm has certainly progressed beyond its 19th century roots. New considerations and approaches do not take for granted the positive impact of the Roman empire, nor assume its cultural superiority. Most importantly, current scholarship recognizes that accepting the idea of Romanization in its original, imperialist form obviates questions of choice and agency, diversity of responses, the range of possible motives for adopting or rejecting characteristics of Roman
Mattingly 2004 Given 2004 39 Given 2004, p. 16 40 For example Woolf 1992, Freeman 1993, Carroll 2001, Trimble 2001, and Mattingly 2002
culture, differences in practice despite common material culture, and the likely reality of multiple coexisting identities. Wallace-Hadrill41 suggests that the most effective way to conceptualize the processes of Romanization and Hellenization is as a dynamic dialogue, and urges archaeologists and historians alike to be aware that ancient people self-described as having multiple cultural, linguistic, and locative identities. An inescapable fact of Mediterranean archaeology is that several elements of the Roman “cultural package” are clearly visible in the archaeological record. Mattingly identifies the reign of Augustus as particularly important because of the “artistic and architectural formulation of metropolitan culture”42, but the response over time is perhaps a more profitable area of inquiry. The adoptions of typically-Roman characteristics like architectural styles and forms, particular types of pottery, funeral practices, and epigraphic evidence were initially used to demonstrate that the Roman way of life was imposed upon the subjugated tribes and states. A better
understanding of the archaeological record, combined with greater awareness of anthropological principles, has now shifted the focus of the discussion. Persistence of local traditions is not merely seen as a signal of resistance, and elements of Roman material culture are not assumed to serve as proxies for wholesale adoption of Roman practices. The Cyclades offer a chance to observe both persistence of local cultural traits, as well as the use of typically Roman elements.
Future Directions The complex, long-lived, and constantly-changing nature of the interaction between Greek culture and Roman culture makes an examination of the influence of only one side of the
Wallace-Hadrill 2008 Mattingly 2002, p. 539
equation not only difficult, but almost futile. As Wallace-Hadrill43 suggests, the meaningful way to frame the question is as dialogue between myriad groups, none of which are acting in isolation, and to see the influx of Roman cultural elements as additions to, instead of substitutions for, indigenous cultural traits. Alcock’s contributions to the study of Roman
Greece are among the best examples of the trends in recent scholarship for that area. She urges a regional approach44, particularly because the environments and indigenous groups encompassed by the Roman empire were so diverse—it would be foolish to assume that different people with different histories of experience would react to Roman political intervention in precisely the same way. The Cyclades provide the ideal medium for this type of assessment of the cultural dialogue and social mobility which occurred during the Roman period because of its geographic boundaries, pre-existing infrastructure, greater proportion of non-agricultural economic bases, and position as a stopping point for many trade routes. The majority of theoretical questions for island systems, particularly the isolation/interaction dichotomy, seem to apply hardly at all to the discussion of the Cyclades during the Roman period. The administration of the islands, although managed by the imperial political entity, was heavily based on the polis system of the Classical and Hellenistic periods, and these political units were for the most part maintained through the Roman period. The Cycladic islands were also located at a nexus point for trade routes between the east and west regions of the Roman empire, effectively making moot any question of geography-based isolation and of the sea as a serious impediment to travel (although admittedly the pattern of currents and seasonal wind may have made it more difficult to reach some islands). The islanders were aware of the world
Wallace-Hadrill 2008 Alcock 1989a
beyond their shores, and they exploited their access to those extra-island markets with varying degrees of success. I will argue that the picture of the Cyclades as the inconsequential provincial backwater of the Roman empire must be discarded. Although these islands did exhibit varying levels of economic success, for the most part they found ways to maintain their relevance to the Roman empire. By tying in to the well-oiled machine of Roman commerce and trade, and exploiting nonagricultural natural resources, the residents of the islands of the Cyclades engaged in a cultural dialogue that ultimately led to new ways of defining and expressing their social and geographic identities, visible in the material culture. For the purposes of this thesis, I intend to avoid the broad and hotly-contested term “Romanization” as much as possible, instead opting for more precise terminology and areas of investigation. The focus will be the ways in which changing economic stressors, along with new scales of geographic and social mobility, combined to create a system in which new means of expressing redefined identities became imperative. I will discuss the presence (or absence) of Roman metropolitan and rural architectural packages, issues of multiple coexisting emic identities, and the possible local motives for adopting or rejecting various features of material culture generally representative of the Roman way of life. Special attention will be accorded for the dynamic dialogue and reciprocal influence between Greek culture and Roman culture, the question of continuity of practice despite changes in the material expression or record, and elements of human agency and choice at all levels of society. In order to contextualize my approach, I will conduct this assessment at three scales: first, at the level of individual settlements and poleis; second, in terms of the landscape of the island; and
third, in relation to the entire Cycladic island group. In this way, I hope to incorporate as many different types of materials and studies as possible, from economic studies of marble use to the results of long-term excavations and regional archaeological surveys, in order to explain better the ways in which the relatively minor political and administrative interference of Rome had broad and long-lasting social repercussions.
Chapter 2: Economy, Architecture, and Identity
Despite harsh landscapes and sometimes turbulent pasts, several of the Cycladic islands enjoyed relative prosperity during the Roman period. Their rich mineral resources (sulphur, iron oxides, and other similar volcanogenic rocks and minerals) and position along the east-west trade axis of the Roman empire meant that individual island polities were able to exploit their resources on a new scale, for a whole new set of markets, and to more easily import both necessary and luxury goods. On the other hand, because the Cycladic islands were so dependent on non-agricultural resources for relevance to the Roman empire, the effects of economic disruptions were amplified, leading to a set of precarious conditions. These uncertainties played out in the form of geographic shifts in commercial and religious centers in the Cyclades, and in increasing dependence on the private wealth of residents. The increasingly international and dynamic arena in which the societies of the Cyclades strove to carve out a sustainable niche provided many avenues for expression of identity. Expression through architectural forms and styles is one particularly interesting means, because it can reflect the choices of both individuals and a civic collective, and a wide range of motivations. In order to look for links between economic success and expressions of identity at the level of settlements, we can turn to the examples of Melos, Paros, and Sikinos. These islands represent clear cases of economic success (Melos and Paros) and failure (Sikinos), and sufficient archaeological research has been published to be able to frame a meaningful argument in each instance.
Figure 3 Results of the Melos Survey Project45.
Melos and mineral exploitation One place we can track the interplay between economic success, social mobility, and expressions of identity is on the island of Melos. This island was an independent, coinage-issuing city-state from about 700 BC to 416/415 BC, when the city of Ancient Melos was destroyed by the Athenians and the island came under first Athenian, then Macedonian, control46. The Roman empire took over from 150 BC to 300 AD, after which Melos became part of the Byzantine empire47. The settlement of Ancient Melos, northeast of the Bay of Melos, maintained its status
Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982, p. 17, fig. 2.1. [source image unmodified] Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982, pp. 3, 5 47 Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982, pp. 3, 5
as the administrative center of the island from the Classical period and throughout Roman times. Despite extensive construction in other parts of the island during the Late Roman period, Ancient Melos seems to have remained without a competitor48. Mining activity in general has a long history on Melos, stretching back at least to the Neolithic, when the island served as the main source of obsidian for the Aegean. The geological
composition of Melos is almost entirely volcanic, and Melos was renowned in antiquity for its mineral products49. These products included Melian or Kimolian earth, alumen, pumice, and sulphur, the uses of which ranged from medicinal uses to textile processing. Pliny the Elder described Melian sulphur as “nobilissimum” (the finest) among all the sources known in the Mediterranean (Pliny the Elder, Nat.Hist. XXXV.63.2), and even today sulphur and other related minerals continue to be mined, to the detriment of many archaeological sites50. With the exception of extensive research at the prehistoric site of Phylakopi, archaeological sites on Melos remain largely unexcavated. MacKenzie and British School at Athens colleagues conducted limited archaeological work during the late 1890s at the site of Ancient Melos and in some surrounding areas51, but for the most part subsequent interest in the prehistoric remains and early obsidian exploitation have eclipsed research into later periods. It was not until the late 1970s that Melos was the subject of a revolutionary survey project52 (fig. 3), which sought to record systematically the archaeological remains from all periods, with the ultimate goal of understanding diachronic fluctuations in site location and settlement patterns53. Among the results of this survey was the identification of twelve sites of “special purpose”—sites which
Sparkes 1982, p. 45 Pittinger 1975, p. 191 50 Belivanakis 2001 51 Bosanquet 1895, 1898 52 Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982 53 Cherry 1982, p. 16
appeared to be distinctly commercial or industrial in nature (fig. 4). These identifications were made based on a high concentration of non-domestic pottery (mostly lekanae) and geographic locations judged unsuitable for harbors, agricultural centers, or otherwise normal domestic occupation54.
Figure 4 "Special purpose" sites on Melos and the location of the Aghia Kyriaki, Melos Survey55.
These sites in turn inspired the Aghia Kyriaki, Melos Survey, led by E. Photos-Jones et al., in the 1990s to document the area around Aghia Kyriaki, one of the “special purpose” sites on the southeast coast of Melos, with the goal of clarifying archaeological remains of industrial mineral procurement and processing. The site of Aghia Kyriaki was chosen from among the “special purpose” sites because of its position in a particularly tectonically and geothermally active part of the island, and the researchers’ interest in seeing whether it was possible to discern traces of
Hall et al. 2003, p. 335 Photos-Jones et al. 1999, p. 379, fig. 1. Site names: 1. Paleochori; 2. Soleta; 3. Aghia Kyriaki; 4. Kanava; 5. Plathiena; 6. Ambourdektachi; 7. Asprokavo; 8. Emporio; 9. Achivadolimni; 10. Tria Pigadhia; 11. Kato Komia; 12. Sta Glastria [source image modified]
use of geothermal energy for mineral processing during antiquity56.
archaeological surface survey was incredibly fruitful, yielding many traces of walls and buildings, caves exploited as mines or tombs, and an abundance of pottery ranging from sherd scatters to collapsed stacks of pots and pithoi which were sunk into the ground. The majority of these remains were datable to the Roman period57. Despite Pliny’s claims to the contrary, Italy itself lacked the necessary quantity of mineral resources and ores, and so the provinces were instrumental in supplying the needs of the empire58. In the mid- to late-4th century AD, miners began abandoning their work in the mines in favor of agriculture, leading to a shortage of mineral resources during the decline of the Roman empire59. The majority of mineral
exploitation material on Melos comes from the Late Roman period, although without excavation it is impossible to know the true time-depth of exploitation. At the very least, it is safe to say that the mineral exploitation economy was flourishing in the Late Roman period, perhaps when other mines were being shut down or exhausted. It is abundantly clear that the rich mineral resources of Melos were exploited to their fullest extent. Who, then, were the people who benefitted from the economic success, and how did that alter their self-perceptions and expressions of identity? Epigraphic resources have recently been compiled and studied for onomastic purposes60. While the number of inscriptions from Melos identifying bearers of Roman names is the greatest among all the Cycladic islands, it still represents a very small proportion of the estimated population61. Of course, this is not to suggest that all the bearers of Roman names were ever represented in epigraphic evidence, or that we
Hall et al. 2003, pp. 333-334 Hall et al. 2003, pp. 335-336 58 Shepherd 1993, p. 53 59 Shepherd 1993, p. 53 60 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008 61 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 44
even come close to possessing or knowing of all the inscriptions which ever existed—rather, it is noteworthy even in light of the sample size problem. On Melos, of the 50 Roman names attested, only two can be identified with certainty as Italian settlers, and one is identified with certainty as another foreigner62. The other characteristic of the names known from Melos which stands out in sharp contrast with the other islands, though, is that Melos demonstrates the fewest examples of nomina simplicia, or usage of a single Roman name, as opposed to duo or tria nomina, suggesting that there was a greater use of the proper naming formula as opposed to arbitrary appropriation of a name63. The most commonly cited example of the tria nomina use from Melos is that of C. Caelius Eros, attested on a first century BC inscription found in a private modern house in Tripiti (CIL III
Suppl. 1420310). He was a freedman and mercator who conducted business perhaps as an agent
on behalf of a patron, or perhaps on his own behalf; there is considerable debate about the exact meaning of mercator, especially in relationship to another occupation designator, negotiator64. Scholars also disagree about whether C. Caelius Eros was a Romanized Greek65 or an Italian66. Regardless, the point is that this individual was aware of the naming formula and chose to use it, and additionally, he did not use an indicator of origin. The most obvious conclusion to be drawn from correct usage of the naming formula is that these individuals were either themselves aware of the conventions, or else in close enough contact with others who were, so that they were able to convincingly mimic the formula.
Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 45 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 49 64 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, pp. 128-129 65 Donati 1965 66 Hatzfeld 1975
Names are only one aspect of expressing identity, and taken by themselves can be inconclusive. Another important aspect of the settlement on Melos, especially in relation to the areas of mineral exploitation, is the abundance of villas. The villa is often perceived as one of those quintessential indicators of Roman material culture67. Considerable work has been conducted to attempt to understand their social and industrial function, and so far the picture seems to show substantial regional variation. Despite marked variation in size, architectural details, and
decorative schemes, Dyson68 sees the Roman villa as a building form and cultural institution paralleled only by medieval monasteries in their significance. These structures were located in the countryside, and often had both residential and industrial functions (although most early excavations focused on the residential aspect for treasure-hunting purposes), and represented some of the best examples of conspicuous consumption among elites during the Roman period. The primary impediment to understanding the role of villas in the mining activity on Melos is the fact that the processing of the ores does not leave unambiguous archaeological traces69. The soil composition makes it difficult to know whether residue found on pots is a result of taphonomic processes or industrial activity, and excessively high temperature furnaces, like those used in glass-working, for example, are not necessary for processing the minerals mined on Melos. What is clear, though, is that the mines and the villas are not located at natural harbors, often being found at inland locations70. This suggests a model of economic activity in which all the goods were channeled through the primary settlement at Ancient Melos, and that while individuals or families may have controlled particular mines, they did not bypass the local market to deal directly with the imperial market. This would have meant that a greater number
Dyson 2003 Dyson 2003, p. 20 69 Hall et al. 2003 70 Hall et al. 2003
of Melians were involved in the process, increasing the number of contact points between the island’s population and those familiar with the wider empire and providing greater impetus for the definition of identity. The marked increase in the exploitation of sulphur resources in particular offers one more potential avenue of enquiry which could really address issues of practice, and adoption of Roman ways of life. Sulphur was used in one of the final stages of fulling (both an aspect of textile preparation and also a method for laundering garments) in order to make a wool garment shining white71. Melian sulphur was prized as the finest, and with the incorporation of the Cyclades into the Roman empire, a plethora of new markets opened up. Although most of the mineral
processing sites date to the Late Roman period, this does not rule out previous exploitation: the earlier date of Pliny’s Historia Naturalis demonstrates familiarity with the resources of Melos, and any of the known sites have yet to be excavated—there may be earlier phases of occupation obscured by Late Roman remains. The increased consumption of sulphur on a local level, though, could perhaps indicate use for fulling, and by proxy, a greater demand for the iconic white garments of Roman citizens. There are so many possible explanations for the increased sulphur mining, and it is virtually impossible to know for certain, but if increased sulphur consumption could be tied to increased demand for that very Roman style of textile processing, it would suggest an expression of identity on one of the most important, personal levels. Clothing is one of the most basic ways that people express their sense of self and identity in cultures around the world, in a similar manner to the British fibulae studied by Gosden72. He proposes that the design elements of the fibulae had specific historical and cultural affiliations that were a part of the object biography, and when worn, these elements served to create and define polities
Bradley 2002 Gosden 2005, pp. 203-205
and member groups, with the act of wearing as an active declaration of membership in a particular group. If the increased demand for sulphur was linked to increased demand for fulled wool garments, then perhaps there was a growing number of people adopting this especially Roman style of dress and thereby actively declaring membership in the Roman cultural identity.
Paros and Parian Marble In the late first century BC, the emperor Augustus was responsible for bringing about a period of economic and political stability, during which time he also altered the appearance of the city of Rome via the construction of new monuments and the renovations of existing buildings73. Among the characteristics of typically Augustan architecture and building, Ward-Perkins counts the “…triumphant affirmation of marble as an essential part of the monumental builder’s repertory,” and closely linked to this introduction of marble was greater influence from Hellenistic architecture74. Marble from the Aegean was being exported to Rome even during the late Republican period, but the opening of the Carrera marble quarries in Italy in the mid-first century BC drastically increased the supply in Rome, making it possible for marble to become a standard (although still expensive) building and sculptural material75. Thus, marble, like the minerals from Melos, was another resource in high demand which the Cyclades were able to provide for the empire.
Ward-Perkins 2003, p. 45 Ward-Perkins 2003, p. 47 75 Ward-Perkins 2003, p. 52
Claridge76 proposes that statue forms and construction might serve as a general proxy for the amount of marble on the market during the Imperial period. There may have been a link between marble availability, the construction of sculptures from multiple pieces of stone, and the popularity of nude forms: draped figures provided more opportunity to hide a join between two pieces of marble, whereas it would have been quite obvious on a nude figure, and the growing popularity of nude forms perhaps indicates that quarry output was beginning to match the demand77. In addition, Early Imperial statues are characterized by tight poses, which would have required the least amount of raw marble, and Late Imperial statues, by contrast, are open and expansive, with little concern for the amount of raw marble or the difficulty involved in executing the pose78. The question of ownership of the marble quarries (fig. 5) is crucial to understanding their role in both the economy and the social conditions on Paros. The most problematic factor, of course, is that the legal status of individual mines and quarries changed over time, and there was considerable geographic variation79. Quarry administration during the Roman period, though, fell into three broad types: state-owned or imperial property, municipal or communal property, and private property80. Participation in the mining business during Republican times was almost entirely in the control of private individuals, and it was regarded with disfavor, primarily because of prevailing attitudes about the relative unimportance of wealth and the importance of compassion for fellow humans81. During the Imperial period, though, ownership switched to the hands of the state, and several mines in Italy were closed down, perhaps to provide some
Claridge 1988 Claridge 1988, p. 147 78 Claridge 1988, pp. 151-152 79 Dworakowska 1983, p. 26 80 Dworakowska 1983, p. 26 81 Shepherd 1993, p. 52
insurance in the event of a sudden loss of any of the provinces82. In the provinces, the most common methods by which quarries came under imperial control were through conquest, inheritance, and confiscation; imperial ownership is usually inferred based on quarry-marks on extracted blocks which can be sourced to a particular quarry or region83.
Figure 5 Marathi marble quarries, central Paros84. Important ancient quarries are outlined in red.
The island of Paros was the source for some of the most translucent and highly-prized marble in antiquity, and the long period of exploitation of the quarries, as well as the wide geographic distribution of finished products made from this material (from the Black Sea, to the north coast of Africa, to Spain), afford Paros a special place in the economy of the Cyclades. Exploitation of the marble sources on Paros and Naxos began in earnest in the 7th century BC, with the quarrying
Shepherd 1993, p. 53 Dworakowska 1983, pp. 27-28 84 Schilardi 2000, p. 36, fig. 2 [source image modified]
and export of large rectangular blocks to locations throughout the Aegean85. The coarser-grained marbles of Paros and the marbles of Naxos are practically indistinguishable to the naked eye, but they can be differentiated based on isotopic analysis86. By the 6th century BC, the sources of Parian lychnites, the highest grade of marble with a fine, uniform grain and multidirectional translucence, had been discovered; the demand for and economic gain from this type of marble was strong enough to sustain mining activity throughout Roman times, despite the extreme danger associated with quarrying in underground shaft mines87 (figs. 7 and 8). Based on
petrographic and isotopic analysis, Herz has estimated that about half of the Archaic Greek sculptures were carved from Parian marble88. Schilardi cites the Parian contribution to the Athenian League, which was twice that of its larger neighbor Naxos, as evidence that the revenues from the quarries were key to the economic prosperity of Paros, and suggests that the greatest economic evolution coincides with the greatest affluence of the island in the late 6th to early 5th century BC89. Paros was also the location of the most extensive minting activity in the Cyclades during the Classical and Hellenistic periods, no doubt made economically possible by the incoming wealth from the marble quarries90. The wealth of Paros from the late Archaic period onward is
especially visible in the construction of numerous monumental temples and altars, city walls, and harbors, and it is suggested that the remarkable volume of silver coins were an administrative response to the sustained need for many high-value payments for labor and materials91. The use of marble is often cited as part of a Roman (especially Augustan) architectural agenda, but here
Herz 2000, p. 27 Herz 2000, p. 29 87 Herz 2000, p. 27 88 Herz 2000, p. 31 89 Schilardi 2000, p. 53 90 Sheedy 2000, p. 117 91 Sheedy 2000, p. 118
we see that the Parians were using it extensively long before the style initiated by Augustus92. Thus, on Paros, something which at first glance might seem to be an expression of Roman civic identity is in fact part of a much longer history of Parian identity.
Figure 6 (left) Underground marble quarry, Paros93. Figure 7 (right) Relief at the entrance of the Quarry of the Nymphs, Paros94.
When Paros was incorporated into the Roman empire, ownership of the quarries was given to the Princeps via the Ratio Marmorum, or “Department of Marble”95. The effect of this ownership was two-fold: on the practical side, it provided a dependable and ready supply of stone for imperial construction and sculpture projects, but on the other hand it also restricted access by members of the aristocracy and impeded ostentation and competition96. So, because of the economic and administrative control exercised by the Roman government, marble use became a very effective means of asserting or enhancing social standing and visually declaring ties to the
Gruben 2000 Zapheiropoulou 1998, p. 13, fig. 7. [source image unmodified] 94 Zapheiropoulou 1998, p. 13, fig. 8. [source image unmodified] 95 Pollini 2000, p. 243 96 Pollini 2000, p. 243
imperial house, particularly for newly prosperous provincial elites, despite the long history of use on Paros.
Figure 8 The Augustus of Prima Porta97. Using new methods for marble testing, Pollini has demonstrated that the statue of Augustus from Prima Porta (fig. 8) was in fact made from Parian marble, disproving the commonly-held assumption that Parian lychnites marble was only exported in blocks of one cubic meter or less98.
Image from the Museos Vaticanos online catalog (http://mv.vatican.va). [source image unmodified] Pollini 2000, p. 237
It is possible that Parian marble was chosen not only because of its high quality, but also because of some ideological or symbolic significance—the material itself may have functioned as a way of reflecting or propagating ideas of Augustus’ moral and ethical purity99. Differing levels of artistic literacy, economic awareness, and participation in the cultural dialogue created a situation in which not all observers were aware of all the levels of significance of the statue and its material, ultimately subtly reinforcing class boundaries. Given the quantity of known marble quarries operational on Paros in the Roman period and earlier, it is perhaps not surprising that there were also sculpture workshops on Paros. Several of the quarries on Paros, especially Spilies and Lakkoi, contained examples of partially-worked artifacts which were probably abandoned due to defects in the stone100, demonstrating that the marble economy was not based solely on the export of raw blocks. The workshops on Paros are easily distinguished based on large quantities of marble chips and half-finished sculptural fragments. In the majority of cases, though, while it is possible to distinguish the source of the marble, it is difficult or impossible to know the location where a statue was carved. The sarcophagi and funeral statues which are prevalent throughout the Roman period in the Cyclades are unfortunately often removed from their original context, although they may be assumed to have been the product of local craftsmen. Larger, finer, and consequently higher-status works, on the other hand, are not as easy to source as their material. Whether produced by local craftsmen or resident foreigners, local production would imply a high level of skill and training, and knowledge of artistic programs and conventions beyond what might be self-taught or accessible on the island itself. There also exists
Pollini 2000, p. 244 Schilardi 2000, p. 53
the question of the audience: if the sculptures were carved on commission, it suggests a very specific demand market, and if they were carved on speculation, it suggests the artists were familiar with popular styles and confident that their work would find a consumer. Both cases are perhaps more indicative of the existence of Roman identity on the part of the consumer, instead of the producer.
A funeral monument on Sikinos Not all islands enjoyed economic success, and several functioned as locations for exiles because of their harsh environments (described by Frantz as a “maximum of rock and a minimum of comfort”) and distance from the political sphere which was so integral to the Roman elite lifestyle. The island of Sikinos was made famous (or infamous) even before the period of Roman administration when, at the beginning of the sixth century BC, Solon commented that he would rather exchange his citizenship for that of Sikinos than fail his duty to Athens, marking Sikinos and similar islands as the symbol of a “nonentity”101. Sikinos is only 14.5 square miles in area, and because of current and wind patterns, it becomes completely inaccessible for some parts of the year102. The island was not and is not a common objective for archaeologists and tourists, and so one particularly interesting case study for examining identity remains relatively unknown. Incorporated into a 17th century AD church high on a hilltop (figs. 9 and 10) is a small structure which was originally identified in 1837 as a temple of Pythian Apollo, dating to the third or second century BC on the basis of an inscription found on the porch of the modern church (IG
Frantz 1983, p. 71 Frantz 1983, p. 71
XII, 5, 24)103. In 1907 the temple was formally documented104, and the link between the dedicatory inscription to Pythian Apollo and the ancient building was cemented. Another
inscription, an epitaph to a woman and dating to the Roman period (CIG 2447 or IG XII, 5, 30), was built into the modern doorway, but it was considered unrelated to the original building105. This assessment stood until 1966, when Frantz et al. visited the site and had doubts about Dawkins’ dating of the structure. This reevaluation, focused mainly on clarifying the sequence of construction and Christian modifications, led to a number of new conclusions: the inscription referencing the Pythian Apollo was most likely not associated with the original building, whereas the epitaph found in the doorway (fig. 11) had been placed there as part of the original construction106.
Figure 9 Arrow indicates location of the church/tomb on Sikinos107.
Ross 1840, pp. 150-153 Dawkins 1911/1912 105 Dawkins 1911/1912, p. 33 106 Frantz et al. 1969 107 Frantz 1983, p. 78, fig. 3. [source image unmodified]
Figure 10 West facade of the church/tomb108.
Figure 11 Sepulchral epigram in the doorway109.
Frantz 1983, p. 78, fig. 5. [source image unmodified]
The most important aspect of Frantz’s reassessment of the building, however, was the revelation that it was not, in fact, a temple. Instead, it was a monumental tomb of a type common in the second and third centuries AD110. Under this identification, the features which were puzzling in the context of a temple, such as a crypt entered through the foundations of the building and a westward orientation, make perfect sense. In the original identification of the building as a temple, the inscription in the doorway honoring a woman, name unknown, was dismissed as a much later addition because it did not make sense as part of the temple111. Also ignored were two draped portraits, one male (fig. 12) and one female, which were found in the field near the tomb.
Figure 12 Half-statue from nearby field112.
Frantz 1983, p. 79, fig. 9. [source image unmodified] Frantz 1983, p. 73 111 Frantz 1983, p. 73 112 Frantz 1983, p. 80, fig. 10. [source image unmodified]
Under Frantz’s reevaluation, the building takes on a completely different significance: instead of a small, generally unremarkable Hellenistic temple, it is a Late Roman monumental tomb for a woman, her husband, and the family slaves, which seems glaringly out of place for such an insignificant island. Frantz concedes that is it possible the inscription on the tomb could be for a wife of an enterprising local man who managed to make a fortune in the shipping business, but ultimately finds the language more in keeping with a Roman exile113. The presence of such a conspicuously rich and Roman funeral monument on such a tiny island says a great deal about the tenacity of the Roman identity among exiles. Built near the outer limits of the ancient cemetery114, and in a highly-visible location, this monumental tomb was probably not built by the local inhabitants of Sikinos to honor a member of their community115. Equally telling is the fact that it is the only example of its type from Sikinos. There is no evidence that seeing this impressive monument, the local population attempted to emulate it. The tomb was an expression of Roman identity, probably a response to being surrounded by an unfamiliar and different culture and social class—ostentation is most pronounced when it is used in response to a challenge. In this case, the social standing of the (probably) exiled Roman family group was being challenged by their geographic removal from their customary social sphere, and the monumental tomb represents their assertion that they are still Roman.
Frantz 1983, p. 74 Frantz et al. 1969, p. 413 115 Frantz et al. 1969, p. 417
Conclusions In his ethnographic work among the people in the Baringo area in Kenya, Hodder noted the effect of economic stress on material culture-based expressions of identity in border territories116. He found that in border regions with lower population densities or diversified economic strategies, the cultural differences of neighboring groups were less distinguishable, and each group made use of a mixed corpus of decorative forms117. In areas where the neighboring populations used identical economic strategies or had a much higher population density, the dichotomy between the material cultures of the neighboring groups was clearly visible, and utilized almost no mixing of decorative forms; moreover, older artifact assemblages and oral history accounts indicated that the polarization occurred in response to increasing degrees of competition118. Despite the fact that Hodder’s ethnographic observations were based on modern hunter-gatherer populations, there are perhaps some principles that still hold true for society during the Roman period in the Cyclades, or at least open up new avenues of interpretation. Unlike the cultural dialogue that occurred in Britain or Gaul, for instance, the dialogue between Greece and Italy was long-lived and particularly complex. That long history of interaction led to a more even mix of cultural traits, but the key to understanding identity in architecture is to realize that recognizably Roman elements would have been used with purpose and knowledge. The change over time is also a key component: on Melos, the rural sites do not take the form of the villa until the Late Roman period. This could be due to the fact that the villa model was an efficient way of
Hodder 1979 Hodder 1979, p. 447 118 Hodder 1979, p. 447
managing the economic activity, or it could be differentiation in response to increasing competition for mineral exploitation. The very fact of being able to recognize that a building form or decoration looks like one particular side of the cultural dialogue, as in the case of the tomb on Sikinos, indicates a deliberate departure from the mix of elements that characterized previous design schemes, and signals unstable or changing social conditions. Permeable social barriers and a strong nonagricultural economic base allowed both enterprising islanders and resident foreigners to develop wealth and obtain a new social status in an unprecedented way, and with that new social status came a specific way in which the status could be displayed. Conspicuous consumption of wealth is useless if it is not understood by the audience, though, and this is why the long history of cultural dialogue between Greece and Rome was particularly important—it provided both the expression and the comprehending audience.
Chapter 3: Settlement and Landscape
Ancient landscapes are archaeological features shaped by human actions, with settlement distribution and location revealing elements of choice, memory, economic or administrative power structures, and communication networks. Excavation of a single site can provide
information about one node of human activity and its development through time, but its significance cannot be fully realized until it is placed in the context of the surrounding system, comprised of dynamic physical, temporal, and political landscapes. Survey archaeology is one method of attempting to document and understand these ancient landscapes, and as this methodology becomes more prevalent in the Mediterranean, there is great potential for understanding the relationships between polities in the Roman empire. Alcock’s groundbreaking book119 sets the standard for landscape studies in Roman Greece. Focusing on the mainland during the Late Hellenistic and Early Imperial periods, she brings evidence from a number of survey projects together in a synthesis that reveals patterns of population decline and concentration of the remaining population in urban settings120. The scale and the regional diversity of the Roman empire, as well as differential subjection to intensive survey, generate a picture for the Roman period that creates more questions than it answers121. Like the question of “Romanization” and identity, assessments of the Roman
settlement landscape benefit from focused geographic areas; for this purpose, the Cyclades are ideal. Although the Cycladic islands do offer neatly defined survey units, unfortunately there have been very few comprehensive survey projects: the islands of Melos and Keos have been the
Alcock 1993 Alcock 1993 121 Mattingly and Witcher 2004
only islands subject to formal, published survey, both of which took place over 20 years ago122. While Alcock’s conclusions are based primarily on evidence from mainland Greece, they also hold true for the limited evidence from the Cyclades. This is particularly interesting given the geographic restraints imposed by the island topography and environment, and the consequent diversification of economic bases. The limited survey data available for the Cyclades demonstrate landscapes which were sensitive to social, administrative, and economic changes, however slight, and which followed a pattern similar to that attested on mainland Greece. Oscillations between settlement
contraction/nucleation and dispersal in the Cyclades are not limited to the Late Hellenistic and Roman periods—they have occurred since the initial colonization of the islands123—but the catalysts for change at each shift in settlement pattern were different, and predicated on mutable factors of interaction, memory, and economic strategy.
Melos: a single polis island On Melos, Sparkes describes the two centuries before Rome formally took control as “much the same as before,” due to the fact that the post-Alexander polities were largely uninterested in interfering in the administration of the islands—rather, the islands were transferred back and forth between the competing power blocs, leading to a “politically emasculated” but generally more economically stable life124. Although the province of Achaia was not created until 27 BC, Roman influence is apparent on Melos much earlier; a mid-second century BC inscription set up
Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982 and Cherry et al. 1991, respectively Wagstaff and Cherry 1982b; Cherry et al. 1991 124 Sparkes 1982, p. 51
by the Melians expresses their thanks to Rome for benefits conferred (IG XII, 3, 1097). The prosperity of Melos, based on the intensified mineral exploitation discussed previously, is confirmed even in the Late Hellenistic period, during the apparent population decline, by the presence of the marble sculptures of Aphrodite (more commonly known as the Venus de Milo) and Poseidon which were found in the town and the harbor of Melos, respectively125. While the settlement landscape of the Cycladic island group as a whole during the Roman period can be visualized as a hierarchy of polities, the settlement landscapes of individual islands had more in common with the Central Place model originally developed by Christaller126 and later applied to Melos127, in which one urban location dominated the surrounding area and served as a focal point for administrative and economic activity. At the risk of sounding overly
environmentally determinist, the small size and limited quantity of arable land on many of the Cycladic islands necessitated during the early development of the polis system a limit of one urban center for most of the islands; Keos, discussed below, is one of very few exceptions to this rule. For Melos, the Central Place model holds true: Ancient Melos was the primary settlement from its foundation in the Geometric period through late antiquity. Detailed information or
conclusions about Ancient Melos are generally difficult, though, on account of the fact that the only legitimate excavations were conducted in 1895-6128, and the site has been subject to extensive looting, robbing for architecture, and erosion129. Examination of the harbor at Ancient Melos indicates that it became silted up during the Early Roman period, allowing for
Sparkes 1982, p. 51 Christaller 1966 127 Wagstaff and Cherry 1982b 128 Bosanquet 1895/1896, 1896/1897, and 1898; MacKenzie 1896/1897 129 Cherry and Sparkes 1982, p. 53
construction projects on the newly-created dry land and extension of the harbor installations during the Late Roman period130. This coincides with the general pattern of new construction in the Late Roman period, which was interestingly also attested on the mainland131. The absolute number of archaeological sites decreased sharply in the Late Hellenistic/Early Roman periods, although there are two possible interpretations for this: either the population itself became smaller, as suggested by some ancient sources, or there was a general movement from the rural areas into the urban centers.
Figure 13 Distribution of classical sites according to the Melos Survey Project132.
Cherry and Sparkes 1982, p. 53 Alcock 1993, p. 48 132 Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982, p. 20, fig. 2.6 [source image unmodified]
Figure 14 Distribution of Hellenistic sites according to the Melos Survey Project133.
Figure 15 Distribution of Roman sites according to the Melos Survey Project134.
Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982, p. 20, fig. 2.7 [source image unmodified] Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982, p. 20, fig. 2.8 [source image unmodified]
Because of the history of scholarship (or lack thereof) at Ancient Melos, it is extremely difficult to be able to say anything about changing characteristics in the city itself—we get more of a snapshot view, completely dependent upon where Bosanquet et al. decided to dig at the end of the 19th century135. Based on early drawings and fragmentary wall remains, Cherry and Sparkes propose that the ancient fortification wall, built during the Classical period, appear to have enclosed the two acropoleis, the saddle area in between, and some of the flatter land in the nearby valley136. Early archaeologists working during the late 1800s suggested that the saddle between the two acropoleis was the location of the agora, and excavations there yielded Roman imperial portrait statuary, bases with dedicatory inscriptions, columns from a colonnaded stoa, and other finds indicative of a public area instead of a domestic area137. Other Roman remains from nearby include an unfinished phase of construction/alteration of the theatre, a bath, the “Hall of the Mystae” (used for meetings of a religious association and containing a “fine” mosaic pavement (fig. 16) and several dedicatory inscriptions138), and an aqueduct139.
Figure 16 Mosaic detail (3rd cent. AD) from the Hall of the Mystae, Melos140.
Bosanquet 1895/1896, 1896/1897, and 1898 Cherry and Sparkes 1982, p. 56 137 Cherry and Sparkes 1982, p. 56 138 Bosanquet 1898 139 Cherry and Sparkes 1982, p. 56 140 Bosanquet 1898, pl. 2. [source image unmodified]
When taken in conjunction with the relatively high volume of Roman names attested in the inscriptions of Melos and the economic potential provided by the mineral resources, the archaeological evidence points to a wealthy elite class which either adopted or maintained elements of Roman cultural practice, such as recognition of the imperial cult, and transformed the landscape by building numerous villas. In some ways this may sound rather banal and not unexpected, but simple confirmation of the adoption of aspects Roman material culture is itself worth mentioning. The Hall of the Mystae provides some interesting clues to the mixing of identity, as well. Bosanquet, the original excavator of the site, identifies the mosaic as belonging to the early third century AD and the Roman-style portraiture as typical for the time, but identifies the Dionysian cult which used the building as one with roots much farther back in Greek history141. Alcock suggests that ritual and cult activity helped to reconcile people to their natural and socio-political environments142. The archaeological remains place this building relatively late in terms of the Roman administration of Greece, but it is conceivable that the cult practice was well-established, and had been taking place since earlier times. Thus, the
participants in this particular cult on Melos were engaging in activity with ritual and cultural memory linked to much earlier Greek, and thereby perhaps island, identity, but were using by now familiar aspects of elite Roman material culture to convey status. The prosperity evident in the settlement of Ancient Melos is remarkable, and underscores the importance of non-agricultural resources to economic survival during the Roman period. Wagstaff and Gamble estimate that there was sufficient arable land to produce a small agricultural surplus143, but it seems unlikely that the environmental variability in the Cyclades
Bosanquet 1898, p. 78 Alcock 1993, p. 174 143 Wagstaff and Gamble 1982, p. 104
would have made agricultural yield, never mind the production of surplus, a dependable factor. This was exactly the sort of uncertainty that early prehistoric populations had to contend with in the Aegean, and their response was the development of a remarkably “international” network and the diversification of agricultural strategies144. The island may have had a “dual economy,” in which the lower classes continued their traditional subsistence strategies and economy, which was largely separate from the empire-wide network of exchange through which the Melian mineral resources were distributed145. In this scenario, individuals and small groups would have benefitted much more than the general or lower-status population, and the adoption of Roman material culture and practices would have been concentrated in the small group actively working to corner the mineral market. The “exchange sector” would have occupied a much more
precarious position than the “subsistence sector”146, making the ostentatious legitimization of belonging to and identification with status and cultural groups necessary and understandable among those participating in the exchange economy.
Keos: a multi-polis island Another important source of information for settlement distribution in the landscape is the results of an intensive survey project conducted on Keos in 1983-1984. Inspired by the earlier survey of Melos, the project sought to document and understand fluctuations in settlement patterns in the territory of Classical Koressos, one of four poleis found on the island in antiquity147. Keos is separated from mainland Greece by only a 12 km channel, and has the distinction of being one of
Halstead 2008 Wagstaff and Gamble 1982, p. 105 146 Wagstaff and Gamble 1982, p. 105 147 Cherry et al. 1991, pp. xv-xvi
very few islands in the Cyclades which boasted more than one polis. The question of the reason behind multiple poleis on some islands is very puzzling—Keos is by no means the largest of the Cyclades, but had four major urban centers (fig. 17) until the Hellenistic period, when they were merged into two. Amorgos and Mykonos, two other islands with multiple poleis in the Classical period, also experienced a reduction in both the size and number of their poleis148. Moreover, the geographic boundaries between the poleis are not always clear or intuitive, even after the merging in the Hellenistic period.
Figure 17 Keos, with the ancient poleis and their notional boundaries according to the Keos Survey, and the survey area shaded149.
Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 34 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 6, fig. 1.1 [source image modified]
The history of occupation on Keos stretches back to prehistory, and like Phylakopi on Melos, the Bronze Age site of Ayia Irini has been extensively excavated150. Between the end of prehistoric occupation at Ayia Irini and the beginning of the rise of the island poleis, though, there is almost no evidence of occupation. Two results of the 1980s Keos survey project are particularly noteworthy: first, there was a clear lack of archaeological remains dating between the 12th and 7th centuries BC, and second, the Greco-Roman periods provided the richest dataset for the survey area151. Whitelaw notes that a large proportion of these sites were occupied through many successive periods, supporting a general tendency towards long-term continuous occupation152. Keos, like other Cycladic islands, was traded back and forth between dominant powers, and during the third century BC it became a Ptolemaic possession, only to eventually be returned to Athens in the first century BC153. The most dramatic results of the surveys on Keos, which are also corroborated by similar trends on Melos and the mainland, are in the rural settlement patterns. Whitelaw demonstrates that in the Classical and Hellenistic periods the island experienced a dramatic settlement contraction which was most acute during the Late Hellenistic and Early Roman periods154, when Roman influence was growing and Greece officially became a Roman province. During the Late Roman period, a large number of sites were founded or reoccupied. These sites are mostly sub-hectare in size, and have been proposed as single family farmsteads, with the few larger sites possibly representing small clusters of family farms instead of small village communities155. It is
important to note that these do not appear to be villas like the ones found on Melos during the
Caskey 1962, 1964, 1966, 1971, and 1972, as only a handful of starting points Cherry and Davis 1998, p. 218; Cherry et al. 1991, p. 328 152 Cherry et al. 1991; Whitelaw 1998 , p. 229 153 Cherry and Davis 1991 154 Whitelaw 1998, p. 230 155 Whitelaw 1998, p. 231
similar time period. Whitelaw also disagrees with previous interpretations in which the singlefamily farms were seasonally or occasionally occupied by landholders who maintained a permanent residence in the urban center of the polis. Instead, he sees these sites as the
permanent residences of a rural population, leading him to the conclusion that residence on the land was primarily practical, instead of simply symbolic156.
Figure 18 Distribution of Roman finds from the Keos Survey157.
Whitelaw 1998, p. 233 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 335, fig. 17.8. [source image unmodified]
If Melos was a classic example of the adoption of a typically Roman rural organization characterized by the presence of villas, then Keos (fig. 18) demonstrated the opposite. The economic basis had remained virtually unchanged since antiquity, and even today is still represented primarily by closed domestic units concerned with agriculture and pastoralism; furthermore, the geomorphology and soil conditions of the island did not permit a transition to more Roman organization of the land158. The apparent stability of the economic structure of Keos throughout the sometimes tumultuous history of the Cyclades implies that the peasant society was unaffected by ties of dependence on a class of landowners during this period159. This brings us back to Sparkes’ “dual economy” discussed above. The continuity of structure seen in the peasant and lower classes of the Cyclades contrasts sharply with the adoption of Roman material culture and cultural practices among the elites classes. The efforts at stepping away from studying primarily elite material culture, though, are confounded by the nature of the evidence. Partially because of the nature of archaeological research which has taken place, and partially because the elites left the most visible archaeological remains, the presence of the landworking peasant class is virtually invisible, and excavations of non-elite domestic urban architecture are restricted to rescue operations because modern settlements are often superimposed on ancient settlements. Cherry et al.160 assess the settlement pattern data from the polis of Koressos on Keos with the goal of discovering whether different types of governmental organization have a recognizable effect on settlement organization. Sites from the Classical period were both the most numerous and the most dispersed, while by the Late Hellenistic and Early Roman periods sites were
Mendoni and Papageorgiadou 1989, p. 172 Mendoni and Papageorgiadou 1989, p. 172; Davis (pers. comm.) notes that this is not the case in the Medieval or early modern periods. 160 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 327
considerably less frequent and less dispersed161. Late Roman sites return to a more frequent and more dispersed pattern, but were not evenly distributed; instead, they clustered along a corridor to the north of the neighboring polis of Ioulis162. While this pattern of site frequency is similar to the one observed on Melos, the function of the rural sites on Keos was for the most part associated with agriculture, instead of specialized industrial activities. Cherry et al. suggest that “…the archaeological impact of rural settlement is disproportionate to its scale” and propose that simple nucleation and dispersion at the urban centers of the poleis cannot explain the changes in site numbers163. This was suggested on Melos because of apparent inversely proportional
fluctuations in the size of the urban center, but the polis center at Koressos does not demonstrate similar demographic changes164. The implications of these settlement trends during the Roman period are that agricultural cultivation was much less intensive, and the presentation of the island to Athens in the first century BC permitted a class of elite foreigners to acquire land for estates165. The likely picture for the Roman period on Keos, then, is that of the small landowner being pushed off his family land by estate owners166.
Landscape and Imperialism Without question, some of the greatest contributions to the discussion of Roman Greece have been made by Alcock. She posits that cross-culturally, the evidence bears witness to the fact that as societies become subject to an imperial power, one can expect to see great changes in the use
Cherry et al. 1991, p. 333 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 333 163 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 337 164 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 338 165 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 346 166 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 346
and exchange of economic resources167. In contrast to scholars who have studied this material in the past, Alcock places heavy emphasis on the fallibility of the historical sources, which for the most part have been used exclusively of the archaeological evidence to argue for a “desolate, depopulated, under-cultivated Greek landscape” during the Hellenistic and Roman periods168. The idea of an under-cultivated landscape, whether by design or as a side effect of large landholdings, is sometimes assumed for the Cycladic islands, because of their notoriously poor environmental conditions (particularly freshwater sources) and agricultural yield—generally assumed only sufficient to sustain the resident population, with very little surplus. Alcock acknowledges that the trend strongly pushed forward by the documentary evidence of the concentration of land resources in fewer hands is borne out by archaeological landscape, although perhaps not quite to the extent the ancient authors would have us believe169. She ultimately sees the primary force behind accumulation of land as coming from the native elites, who were encouraged by their ties to the imperial authority170. It is difficult to say whether these acquisitions were driven by innate desire to adopt Roman land management models, economic necessity (it was often a considerable financial burden to be a part of the ruling class), or external pressure to conform. In general, the social changes instigated by economic pressures under Roman rule are thought to have been much more dramatic among the elites and much more conservative among the rural peasant class. With that in mind, Alcock sees the apparent
uniformity of patterns of rural abandonment in the Late Hellenistic and Early Roman periods as
Alcock 1989b, p. 5 Alcock 1989b, p. 5 169 Alcock 1989b, p. 9 170 Alcock 1989b, p. 9
evidence for “wide-ranging and profound socio-economic processes”171, and this trend is clear also on Melos and Keos.
Conclusions While the evidence from Melos, Keos, and the mainland is remarkable in that it tells the same story of coordinated fluctuations in rural site frequency and distribution, on the other hand, the apparent motivations behind those changes are so diverse. Cherry et al. interpret the data from Keos as clear evidence that the dominant social system determined the agricultural strategies as much as the environment and the island’s population size172. In this model, the availability of land is a function not only of the square meters of arable island surface, but also the relative acceptability of fragmentation of farm property. Thus, the accumulation of smaller parcels of land which might have been part of an islander’s family legacy for generations into large estates managed by absent landlords can both be manifest in the archaeological remains, and be a proxy for the pursuit of Roman cultural practices among the landowning elite. Knowing whether these landowning elite were native islanders or foreign Italians or mainlanders, though, is more problematic. To answer the question of whether landowners on Keos were islanders participating in Roman practices or resident foreigners amassing wealth is a question that might be answered by the material remains from the urban center. Considering the population concentration into the urban centers of the islands in light of Hodder’s 1979 study, it would be interesting to see if in the polis center at Koressos there were marked cultural differences between local and foreign elites or
Alcock 1989, p. 17 Cherry et al. 1991, p. 466
between elites and formerly rural/agricultural groups.
Constantakopoulou suggests that the
island-based identity was a stronger force than polis identity, but unfortunately it is difficult to track clear expressions of identity with survey evidence and no excavated remains.
Chapter 4: The Island Group
The residents of each Cycladic island during the Roman period did not perceive themselves as a geographically-unified social, political, or economic unit. Certainly there are some trends and characteristics that hold true across the entire region, and important information can be gleaned from the consideration of the place of the Cyclades as an island group in terms of the empire as a whole. The Cyclades were located directly in the middle of the trade routes between the eastern part of the Roman empire and Italy, and Augustus’ Pax Romana in particular is renowned for the widespread peace and easy travel, making the role of the islands as a stopping point crucial. The numerous graffiti carvings found on the rocks of Syros’ Grammata Bay173 attest to the fact that even though Syros did not rise to special prominence in the Roman period, its port still served as an example of an important waypoint for the shipment of goods across the empire. The famous island of Delos, mythical birthplace of Apollo and Artemis, shifted from a religious to a commercial center very early on, but then experienced a rapid decline because of destruction related to the Mithridatic Wars174. In this way, Delos serves as a reminder of the precarious economic position the islands of the Cyclades occupied—gaining an economic foothold did not guarantee a long period of future success. Another formidable force which shaped the history of the Cyclades was piracy, and Tenos, with its Sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite as a religious center for sailors, was a high-traffic island despite the fact that most of its production was focused on agriculture175.
Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 49; Sandberg 1954 Bruneau and Ducat 2005 175 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 36
The theme that unites these three examples (Syros, Delos, and Tenos) is their greater significance to the residents of the Cycladic island group and their international residents. These
characteristics distinguished them from islands which had a strong connection to the wider Roman economic structure but not to neighboring island or mainland polities. The audience for material expressions of identity, then, was more internationally aware, leading to more complex modes of tacit communication and participation in Roman cultural practices.
Syros and the “epigraphic habit” The development of the use of the “epigraphic habit” as described by MacMullen176 is one characteristic that has been used throughout the Roman empire as a proxy for Romanization as well as literacy177. It is true that the increased use of epigraphy is much more visible in the Roman west, but it is also distinguishable in Greece, where the practice of recording information on inscriptions was already in use178. The quantity of epigraphic evidence from the Cyclades varies widely from island to island, either as a result of lack of archaeological work or as a reflection of an actual absence of inscriptions originating in the Roman period. In many cases Roman names are attested; occasionally, although it is not explicitly stated, Italian origin is assumed to be implied by a bilingual inscription, since presumably anyone raised in the Cyclades would have spoken and written in Greek179. Often, though, little more than the presence of certain individuals is revealed, and even the provenience of the inscriptions is practically useless—most are discovered employed in field, farm, and church walls, such as the examples,
MacMullen 1982 Meyer 1990 178 Woolf 1996 179 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 42
documented by A. Orlandos, used in the construction of the Katapoliani Church on Paros180. In addition, Mendoni and Zoumbaki’s181 close study of Roman names in the epigraphy of the Cyclades has revealed that some inscriptions were not found on the island where they were originally posted, such as the stele (fig. 19, IG XII 5, 667) from Syros which was found on Tenos.
Figure 19 A typical public banquet inscription from Syros, found on Tenos (IG XII 5, 667).182
AR 1962-1963 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008 182 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, pl. 25. [source image unmodified]
One trend which took place throughout the Cycladic island group and can be tracked epigraphically was growing dependence on private wealth and the practice of euergetism. Especially for the third and fourth centuries AD, the urban centers of the Cycladic islands became more and more dependent on the contributions and munificence of private individuals for the restoration of public buildings. It is generally accepted that this is part of a development which occurred throughout the Roman empire, and is taken as a sign of widespread general economic and demographic problems preceding the “crisis” of the third century AD183. Refurbishing a public building had many advantages: it was a more acceptable form of conspicuous consumption, nominally for the good of the people, but in reality it asserted and proclaimed the donor’s status among the upper class, especially in times of social instability. Evidence for acts designed to cultivate public goodwill comes from numerous islands, but the inscriptions related to the demothoinai, or public banquets (fig. 19), from Syros represent the largest part of the epigraphic corpus of that island. Dating mainly from the mid-second century AD, these inscriptions generally contain an invocation of Agatha Tyche, a typical reference to the safety and health of the emperor, the demos of the Romans, the senate, and the demos of Syros, followed by a description of sacrifices to Hestia Prytaneia and an account of the distributions or public banquets given to the community184. These distributions were offered by the
stephanephoros, sometimes referred to as the eponymous archon, and they were not a requisite component of his duties to Syros. Although these public banquets and distributions were theoretically a way to exalt the spirit of community and include the entire polis from officials to slaves to women and children185, they
Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 35 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 37 185 Van Nijf 1997, p. 156
really served to reinforce the social inequality and hierarchical nature of the society186. There are two levels of practice and identity to examine here: the distribution of wealth, and recording the events with inscriptions. The practice of euergetism was not new or exclusive to Roman culture, having its beginnings in the early Hellenistic period, but there was a marked increase in frequency throughout the Roman world during the second and third centuries AD187. In this respect, the social conditions in the Cyclades closely paralleled those in the rest of the empire. The placatory distribution of wealth appeared to be a generous gesture by a local official and in the early stages maintained social stability188, but it subconsciously asserted his membership in the ruling elite and created an unspoken separation between those who considered themselves primarily people of Syros and those who aligned themselves with the Roman administration, far beyond the explicit separation of social groups created by their listing on the related inscription. Although the history of both euergetism and recording noteworthy events with inscriptions had a long history in Hellenistic culture, by the second and third centuries AD they had been fully incorporated into the expected behavior of the Roman elite, and for that reason can be counted among indicators for Roman cultural identity in the upper classes of Cycladic society as a whole.
Delos and resident Italians/Romans Delos represents another opportunity to examine constructions of social groups, this time from the perspective of their internal definition, instead of the external classification found on the public banquet inscriptions of Syros. Of all the islands in the Cyclades, Delos has, without a doubt, received the lion’s share of scholarly attention. As the religious and later commercial
Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 38 Zuiderhoek 2009, p. 5 188 Zuiderhoek 2009, p. 5
center of the Classical and Hellenistic times, Delos held special prominence; as mentioned before, the name “Cyclades” was given because the rest of the islands were thought to encircle Delos. The excavations conducted on Delos are among the oldest continuous archaeological research projects in all of Greece, and have been conducted under the auspices of the École française d’Athènes (ÉfA) since 1872189. In 167/166 BC, Delos was ceded to Athens by the Romans and declared a free port. Gruen suggests that this was done to penalize and make an example of Rhodes, and indeed Delos quickly developed into a significant and thriving commercial center while Rhodes suffered precipitous drops in revenue190. A major component of Delian commercial activities in the Late Hellenistic period, according to ancient sources (particularly Strabo 14.5.2), was the slave trade191, but the prospect of toll-free trade attracted a wide range of shipping and commercial activity. As part of the Mithridatic Wars, Delos suffered two attacks in 88 and 69 BC, and although occupation continued after 69 BC, the island never regained its status as a principal trade center192. For the period of commercial success from the mid-second to mid-first centuries BC, there is abundant epigraphic evidence which suggests that there were three main groups residing and conducting business on Delos: Greeks (predominantly Athenians), Italians and Roman citizens, and Syrians and Phoenicians193. Thus, Delos provides an interesting
opportunity to examine Roman identity from a slightly different angle: that of resident Italians in the Cyclades. The Agora of the Italians at Delos (figs. 20 and 21) represents one ideal medium for examining the creation and maintenance of group identities.
Leekley and Noyes 1975, p. 41 Gruen 2004, p. 38 191 Trümper 2009, pp. 34-35 192 Tang 2005, p. 14 193 Tang 2005, p. 14
Figure 20 Agora des Italiens, with phases of surrounding shop construction (phase 1 in red, phase 2 in blue, and phase 3 in green).194
Figure 21 Reconstruction of the west quarter and the Agora des Italiens (#52).195
Trümper 2008, fig. 21 [source image unmodified]
The Agora of the Italians, so-called because it was built by the Italians resident on Delos in the late second century BC196, was constructed sometime after 167/166 BC. It was initially
identified as a slave market197, but Trümper’s reexamination of the building198 suggests otherwise. Citing logistical and architectural characteristics, Trümper refutes Coarelli’s
identification of the building as a purpose-built slave market, and instead identifies this large enclosed area as a garden-porticus complex, an architectural type also attested in Rome199. She emphasizes the high-status “leisure” function of the building, and suggests that while some sale of luxury goods might have taken place, the main purpose of the space was for passing time in a luxurious or prestigious locale with restricted access200. The presence of a bath suite, latrines, statue niches, and a decorative polychrome stucco/plaster program indicate that the space was for use by a high-status group201. Moreover, the central unpaved courtyard is interpreted as a garden, especially given the fact that by this point, all other commercial areas, high-traffic areas, and streets were paved202. Finally, it is important to note that this complex dates to almost a century before comparanda in Rome. Trümper attributes this to a “highly innovative, ambitious, and pretentious” construction plan and lets the issue rest there203. The construction of this building complex certainly represents group agency in the creation and promotion of social insularity. Although they were permanent or long-term residents of Delos, these Italians and Roman citizens held on to their original local identity, and expressed it in an exclusive “clubhouse” setting. Moreover, class distinctions were maintained in this setting—use
Trümper 2008, fig. 83 [source image modified] Hatzfeld 1912, p. 110 197 Coarelli 1982 198 Trümper 2006, 2008, 2009 199 Trümper 2009, p. 49 200 Trümper 2009, p. 49 201 Trümper 2009, pp. 40-41 202 Trümper 2009, p. 42 203 Trümper 2009, p. 43
was restricted to high-status individuals, while lower status individuals with the same local identity chose to create their own comparable space. This suggests that in the social arena of a relatively cosmopolitan urban situation, shared geography-based identity was important, but not strong enough to overpower the ingrained social class distinctions. It is possible to take the case of this building a step further, though, and draw some interpretations regarding aspects of the cultural dialogue between Hellenistic and Roman groups. First, the place of Delos in the Cycladic religious landscape was incredibly prominent, because of its history, and in the economic landscape, because of its status as a free port. It is on the basis of the inscriptional evidence from Delos that we know that the first groups of Italians to move east were traders, financiers, and small businessmen204. The relationship between these Italian names and the associated funeral monuments suggests that the iconographic program found on the funeral stele of the Italians living on Delos indicates a successful integration of this community into the Greek culture205. This is in direct opposition to the interpretations suggested by buildings like the Agora of the Italians, but this may be where evidence for the expression of multiple coincident identities emerges. Another means of examining the complex cultural interactions of the second and first centuries BC on Delos is domestic architecture206. Initially, the layout of Delian houses was relatively simple and uniform in size, but as the community of foreigners resident on Delos became more diverse, so too did the building design. There were elements among the domestic architecture of Delos that were clearly part of a longer Greek tradition, such as the pastas area in front of the main room, peristyles, a prevalent main room complex, square dining rooms, and motifs
Gruen 2004, p. 35 le Dinahet 2001, p. 110 206 Tang 2005
employed in interior decoration207. But, in the same houses with the Greek architectural features, there are “intrusive” Italic or Roman features. These include axiality of layout, porticoes, upstairs units, decorative programs especially for floors, and the presence of wall paintings related to the Lares Compitales cult208. These features are mixed in both individual houses and in domestic quarters of the city. This consistent blending of styles seems at odds with the picture proposed by the Agora of the Italians, but is consistent with the artistic program on funeral stele described by le Dinahet. Perhaps, then, the simplest conclusion is that for the most part, Delians were content to mix artistic and architectural programs and felt some measure of coincident identity in their private lives, but preservation of their local identity, namely as Italians or Greeks, in the commercial sector facilitated their economic transactions. Unlike the case exemplified by the unique,
obviously Roman funeral monument on Sikinos, Delos represented the peaceful mixing of cultures in an arena of diverse economic opportunity. Drawing on Hodder’s209 ethnographic work, one would expect to see a lack of sharp differentiation in expressions of identity in this type of economic environment. Indeed, the existence of mixed marriages, collegia uniting citizens and freedmen, and mixed use of ethnic sanctuaries were prime examples of the spirit of cooperation that characterized Early Roman society on Delos210. This cooperation does make it difficult to distinguish the components of multiple coincident identities, and the question is also complicated by the Athenian-organized relocations and the high proportion of resident foreigners, but perhaps ultimately separating the coincident identities is unimportant—the Delians certainly did not seem overly concerned by it. While this may seem to be the ideal
Tang 2005, p. 57 Tang 2005, p. 57 209 Hodder 1979 210 Tang 2005, p. 64
representation of cultural mixing, there is a potential drawback. Unlike other islands in the Cyclades, Delos lacked that indigenous population with long-standing familial ties to the island, and perhaps it was for this reason that the destructions related to the wars were so catastrophic to the commercial and economic well-being of the island. Without a strong sense of belonging and family history, the motivation to rebuild, instead of relocating to another island or port, does not appear to have been very strong.
Tenos, sailors, and piracy The island of Tenos was by far one of the most agriculturally fertile islands in the Cyclades, but like other economically successful islands, it relied on non-agricultural resources for prosperity and relevance to the world beyond its coastline211. In this case, though, the resource was less tangible than Melos’ minerals or Paros’ marble. Tenos was a center for banking, and from the mid-first century BC, Roman names attested in the full onomastic formula indicated that individuals of Italian origin had clearly been integrated into local public administration212. More importantly, Tenos was the location of a famous sanctuary important to sailors and maritime life: the Sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite. In a time period when shipping and international trade were at an all-time high as a result of the Pax Romana (as indicated by the high frequency (fig. 22) of shipwrecks dating to this period), this sanctuary was an attraction for many different groups of sailors and traders.
Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p. 36 IG XII 5, 880.I.1, IG XII 5, 881.II, 26, and IG XII 5, 885, 28-29, for example; Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, p.
Figure 22 Mediterranean shipwrecks by century213.
Research on Tenos began in conjunction with the early work on Delos, but H. Demoulin of the École française only led two seasons, in 1902 and 1903214. After this initial location and investigation of the Sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite, work was intermittent: P. Graindor led campaigns in 1905 and 1909, A. Orlandos of the Greek Archaeological Service returned in 1937, and the majority of the site remained unpublished. Étienne et al. began work in the 1970s again under the auspices of the École française, and their publications215 remain the primary sources for this important maritime cult center in the Cyclades. The first cult activity appears to have begun no later than the middle of the fourth century BC, with the first monumental construction of the sanctuary following closely thereafter at the end of the fourth century BC,
Morley 2007, p. 572, fig. 21.1 [source image unmodified] Étienne et al. 1986, p. 2 215 Étienne et al. 1986; Étienne 1990
contemporary with the relocation of the primary settlement on Tenos from the interior of the island to the coast216. From an early period the Sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite was declared a place of asylon—a specific declaration which prohibited acts of violence and reprisal and was designed to protect visitors217. Tenos flourished, benefitting from its proximity to Delos and the presence of the maritime sanctuary, until the second and early first centuries BC, when piracy became so rampant that the three Roman campaigns against the pirates in the Cyclades were undertaken218. The sanctuary was destroyed in the middle of the first century BC, and although occupation continued to a limited extent, it was not at the same scale as before. From ancient authors such as Thucydides and Strabo to modern scholars219, the widespread hypothesis about piracy has been that it had a detrimental effect on maritime trade, and that the campaigns in the early Imperial period were instrumental to the increased economic activity and ease of travel during the Pax Romana220. Gabrielsen221 argues for a less black-and-white view, pointing out that captured people and products quickly re-entered the licit market, making piracy beneficial to the flow of goods, and that particularly among the impoverished classes in harbor towns piracy provided an alternative form of employment. Thus, the modern perspective on piracy is that it was a response to and perpetuated by political and social conditions, and that “pirate” was a subjective descriptor based almost entirely upon the speaker’s place in the new political and economic regime. The question, then, is whether a lack of opposition to and cooperation with pirates on the part of harbor towns or island poleis under Roman administration
Étienne 1990, p. 1 Schumacher 1993 218 Étienne 1990, p. 135 219 Rostovtzeff 1941 in particular 220 Gabrielsen 2001, p. 220 221 Gabrielsen 2001
might actually be seen as local civic resistance to that Roman system, or whether it was simply the result of lack of financial or military resources needed to police the seas.
Conclusions Until the presentation of these case studies of Syros, Delos, and Tenos, the emphasis had been on individual islands, their local economies, and their relationships with the Roman empire as an external administrator. These examples, though, illustrate that there were some islands with greater significance among their peer polities and which demonstrated truly regional trends. This is not to say that any particular island ever really rose as a central place, because one island was not able to attain the necessary social, political, economic, and cult significance simultaneously to overpower the sense of island or polis identity and to dominate or unite the Cycladic island polities. Tenos, for example, was a central maritime cult center which drew a wide crowd of visitors, but it did not control the political life or the economic life of the Cycladic island system. In such international arenas, where are the clues to identity? At this regional level, the existence of multiple coincident identities among social groups is the simplest explanation for the mixing of identifiable cultural traits. These cases, Delos especially, illustrate perfectly the dialogue and exchange between Greek and Roman culture that we know occurred but are hard-pressed to track in the material remains. Moreover, the fact that characteristics like the “epigraphic habit” were found throughout the Cyclades (and even the rest of the Roman empire) is noteworthy. Although they might have occurred in varying degrees throughout the Roman empire, this type of cultural practice was used widely by communities seeking new ways to express their social allegiances in a changing sociopolitical and economic system.
Chapter 5: Conclusions
After a discussion of a series of case studies and a heavy emphasis on the individual character and identity of each island, one might wonder if there really are any meaningful diachronic trends or universal principles that unify this economically, politically, and socially diverse region. At the settlement level, economic success increased on some islands, such as Melos and Paros, as they developed the use of their non-agricultural resources. Conversely, it decreased on other islands, like Siphnos222, which had exhausted its non-agricultural resources in the past. At the island-wide level, settlement patterns shifted consistently throughout the island system and the Greek mainland. The Hellenistic/Early Roman period demonstrated much fewer rural
settlements, although whether this was because of population decline or a convergence on the poleis remains uncertain. As time passed, while there was a concentration of elites in urban centers, there was a growing number of rural sites, some of which were villas and some of which were farmsteads (as seen on Melos and Keos, respectively). Finally, at the Cycladic island system level, the commercial and religious foci of the area changed as a result of economic and social factors. The trends seen in the Cyclades during Roman control can also be compared to developments in mainland Greece. There were similarities in settlement distribution, such as the marked decline in rural sites during the Early Roman period, but there were also many differences. On the mainland, synoecism and the annexation of marginal or contested agricultural land were the main responses to the new political and economic stresses placed on Hellenistic poleis223.
Bent 1885; Wagner et al. 1985 Trimble 2001
Cyclades, though, did not have that option, because of the fact of island geography and the prevalence of one-polis islands, and so they turned to intensification of non-agricultural resource exploitation. Also, while the conditions in the Cyclades might be seen as superficially comparable to mainland Greece because of their shared political preconditions and generally similar environment, they differed greatly from other provinces in the Roman empire. A tremendous amount of the work on Roman provinces has focused on Gaul, Britain, and other parts of the Roman west224, because the organization and material culture of the indigenous societies were so different. It is
interesting to compare the differing paths to some of the same outcomes. The epigraphic habit, for example, was adopted in virtually all the provincial areas, but the starting conditions and social significance for both indigenous and foreign populations were different in each instance. The motives for adoption, too, were equally myriad. We know that throughout the empire, upper levels of Roman administrators won over local leaders by supporting the continuation of their power at a local level and making them an integral part of the new system225, and this was the key to the changes in conception and expression of identity that were seen in the Cyclades during the Roman period. There is no doubt that the local elite adopted aspects of Roman identity beyond simple legal status as a citizen, but the degree of adoption, and how mutually exclusive the Roman identity and the local identity became, remains uncertain. The trend towards urbanization indicated a willingness to migrate to new places, but that greater geographic mobility was seen in other contexts in the same period, and might merely
From Haverfield 1923 to Blagg and Millet 1990 Brunt 1990, p. 268
have been indicative of a general societal trend that resulted from an unprecedented level of ease of communication and travel under Roman administration. The appropriation and use of the preexisting elite social class was a common practice utilized by the Romans, and so its presence in the Cyclades was not especially remarkable. This system had distinct advantages: minimal restructuring was required, and Roman power was disguised226. Where the Cyclades differed from someplace like Athens or another mainland city, though, was in their peripheral or marginal relationship with the larger political sphere. In Athens, there was clear evidence for factionalism and dissidence227; comparable evidence from the Cyclades does not exist (although the absence of evidence versus evidence of absence argument can be tricky). Legally speaking, the people who served as part of the Roman administration of the Cyclades were linked with the Roman state, but practically and geographically speaking, they were distanced. The apparent differential adoption of elements of material culture among these elites, then might be seen as assertions and attempts at legitimization of that link, instead of real selfidentification as part of the Roman community. The success stories of Melos and Paros, while serving as good examples of the potential for prosperity under Roman administration in the Cyclades, are by no means representative of all the islands. The island of Siphnos, which rose to prominence in the sixth century BC because of the richness of its gold and silver mines228, presents the case of an island economy which was unable to adapt to the new economic conditions. Although ancient accounts disagree over the cause (some cite Samian invaders, and some cite a flood following a less-than-generous tribute to Delphi), by the first century BC the mines were no longer producing, and the Siphnian people
Geagan 1997, p. 28 Geagan 1997 228 Wagner et al. 1985
were looked down upon, especially by Athenians229. It is important to note, however, that relatively recent assessment of the known mining sites on Siphnos has revealed that they were exhausted, and there is no evidence of flooding230. The Siphnians must have felt their position as a “has-been” of the Cyclades very keenly, and found the economic burden imposed by the Roman administration heavy enough to prompt sending an emissary to ask for a reduction in taxes231. Rome’s imposition of tribute on Greek poleis certainly helped to drive a wedge between social classes of island populations. Crawford suggests that the marked animosity between lower classes and the upper class in Greek cities can be attributed in part to issues with the payment of tribute: the upper class, occupying positions of power in the local government, used public funds to pay part of the taxes due Rome, but chose to alleviate their own tax burden before doing the same for the lower classes232. This split, in conjunction with trends like concentration of elites in urban settings, Roman use of the local elites for administrative posts, and adoption of Roman material culture, suggests dissociation among the indigenous elites from their islander identity. I propose, though, that to some extent, the willing incorporation of the local elites in the Roman administrative and political structure of the Cyclades forced this group of people to choose whether it was more important for them to maintain their local and familial ties, or to congregate with their peers, the “new money” of Roman politics, in urban centers. These urban centers would have been the essential contact points for the direct transmission of Roman culture, because although there were prosperous islands, it was still all relative, and the Cyclades remained peripheral and marginal to the Roman political arena. The use of recognizably Roman
Ashton 1991, pp. 16, 20 Ashton 1991, p. 16 231 Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008 232 Crawford 2004, p. 98
material culture and practices represented the ostentatious assertion of ties to a political scene that was unattainable for the residents of the Cyclades, and the fact that emigrants and exiles from Italy as well as the local elites used the same types of expressions speaks volumes about the unifying power of a desire to participate in the idea of empire. The choices and cultural meaning might have been different—a villa holds different ingrained cultural connotations and values for a Roman exile and a Melian businessman (see Gosden233 for the power of architecture to propagate social conditions)—but the archaeological result is the same: a material record that reflects a cultural dialogue and the blending of ethnic entities, a story of geographic and social mobility and economic opportunity, and above all, human choice. How indicative of identity were the building changes, especially the ones associated with the rise of Imperial Rome and Augustus? The building program in Athens that “destroyed” the open areas of the Agora and was coincident with Augustus’ rise to power was not, in fact, an indicator of the Romanization of Athens; rather, it reflected the transformation of the Roman government from a republic to a system “close to monarchy”234. In Athens, the architectural changes which signaled the establishment of “empire” were the strengthening of religious elements, particularly the imperial cult, in the agora and other public spaces, records of individual benefactors, conservation and relocation of monuments associated with the mythological history of the city in question, and the development of porticoed areas and monumental entrances, sometimes in apparent isolation235. These were all aspects which, in previous interpretations, have been seen as markers of Roman identity at a civic level. Reinterpreting them merely as markers of a successfully imposed or incorporated political system makes sense especially in Athens, which
Gosden 2005 Walker 1997, p. 68 235 Walker 1997, p. 68
had a history of “backing the losing side” in wars against Rome236.
If we extend this
interpretation to the Cyclades, then, it only indicates that some islands were more successfully incorporated into Roman administration than others; taking into account the resources required (particularly from wealthy individuals) and the relative poverty and marginality of the island system, civic architecture tells us even less about identity of the people living in the polis. Although it may seem counter-intuitive to compare the characteristics of occupation in the Cyclades during prehistory and the Roman period, there were some surprising similarities. The transience and shifting patterns of settlement location, for example, and the dependence on nonagricultural resources for economic surplus and success, were common to both periods. The high degree of importance accorded to connections with the world outside the island system is another trait which was common to both prehistoric and Roman populations. One might also highlight social mobility as a feature common to both time periods. In his study of inscriptions related to the social class just below the eques, Purcell found considerable variation in perceived social standing based on region, observer, and social context. No social boundary was
impervious to someone with enough money or the right patron237. Contrary to the common perception of a chaotically mixed group of non-senatorial and non-equestrian classes in Roman society, there was a finely, but flexibly, stratified sequence of social statuses238. Although prehistory does not necessarily provide the evidence for such a diverse range of defined and sanctioned social subgroups as found in Roman society, the importance of the individual accumulation of wealth and individual achievement are features common to both.
Walker 1997, p. 68 Purcell 1983, p. 126 238 Purcell 1983, p. 127
I have tried to use ancient textual sources minimally because of the inherent bias toward the views of the upper classes and my wish to focus on material expressions of identity. The limitations of the text sources, particularly that they represent the views and sensibilities of such a small fraction of the population, have received more attention in recent years, and the idea of archaeology of the Roman period as an acceptable stand-alone field is now the norm. The facts of classical history have equally contributed to the problem; Rotroff cites the common decision of Hellenistic scholars to see 86 BC, the date of Sulla’s sack of Athens, as the cut-off for their studies, while many Roman archaeology and history scholars begin with Augustan Athens, leaving most of the first century BC as a “no-man’s-land”239. Thus, the need is for a diachronic look at the archaeology of Greece, from the beginning of Roman influence and continuing despite changes in governmental structure. Broodbank states: “Insularity is, in short, a dynamic condition,” and this is the perspective from which the rapid and large-scale economic and social changes during the Roman period in the Cyclades make the most sense. Islands grew and diminished in economic success as they sought new ways to support their growing populations, fight environmental limitations, and define themselves relative to a broader international world. The Cycladic islands in the Roman period to some extent represented peer polities, in that they shared elements of environment and history, but the exploitation of non-agricultural resources eventually led to a hierarchy of polities in the economic sphere. The stability necessary for one island to rise to a position as a Central Place and stay there for the prolonged period of time never really occurred, though, and this is one of several reasons why the Cyclades continued to be considered marginal and peripheral to the greater Roman empire.
Rotroff 1997, p. 97
If the general conditions of life in the Cyclades during the Roman period can be distilled down to two or three characteristics, they are these: new levels of economic opportunity, increased social mobility, and subsequent redefinition, expression, and manipulation of identity. This thesis has only scratched the surface of the potential avenues of scholarship during this time period and for this region, and hopefully future archaeological exploration and research will open the door to further study.
Abbreviations conform to the AJA conventions (available at: http://www.ajaonline.org/submissions/
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The appendix which follows is a listing of archaeological projects, research, and useful bibliographic materials related to the Hellenistic and Roman periods on islands mentioned in the text (following the order mentioned in the text). Project directors, years, and publications are provided where available/relevant, and the full bibliographic information for the shortened form of sources can be found in the bibliography. Abbreviations conform to the AJA conventions (available at: http://www.ajaonline.org/submissions/ abbreviations).
MELOS 1896 Cecil Smith Carl Bosanquet Colin Renfrew Malcolm Wagstaff John Cherry Effie Photos-Jones Allan Hall John Atkinson Klima area (Ancient Melos) and potential ancient port, Greek through Byzantine city on acropolis Melos Survey Aghia Kyriaki Survey AR 1895-6, 347BSA 3, 1986-7, 35BSA 2: 77-82 Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982 Hall et al. 2003, Photos-Jones et al. 1999
Well-known finds include: the Venus de Milo (now in the Louvre), Poseidon and Apollo (now in the National Museum in Athens), and Asclepius (now in the British Museum). Palaiokhori, ancient Zephiria, was occupied from the 8th century BC until 1793 when the site was abandoned, but no published excavations are known. “Ancient Melos” includes the modern toponyms: Klima, Plaka, Tripiti, Aghios Elias, and Kastro. Commentary on Melian antiquities by Bent (1885) in Aegean Islands. Other resources include: Belivanakis 2001 Bosanquet 1895, 1896, 1898 Crowfoot 1896 Hall, Photos-Jones, McNulty, Turner, and McRobb 2003 Kousser 2005 Mackenzie 1896, 1897 99
Photos-Jones, Hall, Atkinson, Tompsett, Cottier, and Sanders 1999 Pittinger 1975 Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982b Smith 1895, 1896, 1897
PAROS 1898-1899 1923 Late 1940s 1960s 1969 1979 Otto Rubensohn Hiller von Gärtringen (German Institute) G. Welter N. Kondoleon A. Orlandos E. Stikas N. Zafeiropoulos D. Schilardi Paul Johnston Paroikia Paroikia Paroikia and Elita Paroikia settlement and cemetery Topographic survey Ancient harbor survey AM 25, 1900, 1ff, 341ff AM 25, 1901, 157ff AM 27, 1902, 189ff BCH 47, 1923, 529 ADelt 16, 1960-61, Chr. 245 ADelt 18, 1963, Chr. 73 ADelt 22, 1967, Chr. 463-4 1981 AJA, AIA meeting abstracts
Other resources include: Berranger 1992 Berranger-Auserve 2000 Boardman 1965 Bruno 2000 Claridge 1988 Dworakowska 1983 Efstratiou 2000 Herz 2000 Jones 1964 Kane 2000 Katsonopoulou 2000 Kontoleon 1966 Pollini 2000 Rubensohn 1962 Schilardi, Katsarou, Katsonopoulou, and Brenner 2000 Schilardi 1975, 2000a, 2000b Sheedy 2000 Welles 1949 Zapheiropoulou 1998
SIKINOS 1837 1907 1966-1967 1983 Ludwig Ross R. M. Dawkins A. J. B. Wace Alison Frantz Homer Thompson John Travlos Allison Frantz Visited and named the structure the “Temple of Apollo Pythios” Visited and recorded “The Apollo Temple” Visited and re-recorded the "Temple of Apollo Pythios"; referred to also as a heroön Reassessment of date and function of the building published
BSA 18, 1911/1912, pp. 30-36 AJA 73.4, 1969, pp. 397-422 Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 127.2, 1983, pp. 71-83
Other resources include: Dawkins, R. M. 1911. “The Apollo Temple on Sikinos.” BSA 18: 30-36. Frantz, Alison, Homer A. Thompson, and John Travlos. 1969. “The ‘Temple of Apollo Pythios’ on Sikinos.” AJA 73 (4): 397-422. Frantz, M. Alison. 1983. “Multum in Parvo: The Aegean Island of Sikinos.” PAPS 127 (2): 7183.
KEOS 19831983-1985 1987-1988 1996? John Cherry Jack Davis Eleni Mantzourani H. Papageorgiadou G. Galani L. Mendoni L. Mendoni B. Lambrinoudakis Survey of NW Keos University of Athens survey in SE Keos University of Athens survey, continued Marble architectural elements (LR-ECh) recovered at Diaselli tou Otzia AR 1983-1984, pp. 52-53 Cherry et al. 1991 AR 1986-1987, pp. 45-46 AR 1988-1989, p. 89 AR 2001-2002, p. 16 ADelt 51 Chr pp. 37-38
Other resources include: Caskey 1962, 1964, 1966, 1971, 1972 Cherry and Davis 1991, 1998 Cherry, Davis, and Mantzourani 1991a Graindor 1906 Mendoni and Mazarakis Ainian 1998 Mendoni and Papageorgiadou 1989 Photos-Jones, Cottier, Hall, and Mendoni 1997 Whitelaw 1998 101
DELOS Two good general introductions to Delos are: Bruneau, Philippe, M. Brunet, A. Farnoux, and J.-Ch. Moretti. 1996. Délos, Île Sacrée Et Ville Cosmopolite. Patrimoine de la Méditerranée. Paris: École française d’Athènes. Bruneau, Philippe, and Jean Ducat. 2005. Guide de Délos. 4th ed. Athens: École française d’Athènes. Information about work on Delos appears in virtually every issue of AR. The EAD (Exploration archéologique de Délos) volumes are published by the ÉfA as follows: I II and II bis III IV V VI VII, 1 VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII XXIII XXIV XXV XXVI 1909 1909, 1914 1910 1911 1912 1921 1923 192224 1926 1928 1928 1931 1932 1933 1934 1935 1935 1938 1939 1952 1952 1955 1956 1959 1961 1965 A. Bellot G. Leroux ; R. Vallois, G. Poulson L. Gallois L. Cayeux F. Courby Ch. Picard R. Vallois J. Chamonard M. Bulard Ch. Dugas A. Plassart F. Courby C. Michalowski J. Chamonard Ch. Dugas C. Rhomaios F. Chapouthier Ch. Dugas W. Deonna É. Lapalus F. Robert Ch. Dugas E. Will A. Laumonier H. Gallet de Santerre J. Delorme Ph. Bruneau 102 Carte de l’île de Délos La Salle hypostyle Cartographie de l’île de Délos Description physique de l’île de Délos Le Portique D'Antigone ou du Nord-Est et les constructions voisines L’Établissement des Poseidoniastes de Bérytos Le Portique du Philippe (VII, 2 : Portique Sud, was never published) Le Quartier du théâtre (good study of the Hellenistic habitation on Delos) Description des revêtements peints à sujets religieux Les vases de l’Héraion Les sanctuaires et les cultes du Mont Cynthe Les temples d’Apollon Les portraits hellénistiques et romains Les mosaïques de la Maison des masques Les vases préhelléniques et géométriques Le sanctuaire des dieux de Samothrace Les vases orientalisants de style non mélien Le mobilier délien (good introduction Hellenistic Delos; see also BCH 62 (1938), pp. 210-221) L’Agora des Italiens Trois sanctuaires sur le ravage occidental Les vases attiques à figures rouges Le Dôdékathéon Les figurines de terre cuite La Terrasse des lions, le Létoon, le Monument de granit Les Palestres Les lampes (See also BCH 102 (1978) pp. 161-166)
XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI XXXII XXXIII XXXIV XXXV XXXVI XXXVII XXXVIII XXXIX
1970 1972 1973 1977 1979 1980 1984 1985 1995 1999 2001 2001
Ph. Bruneau, Cl. Vatin, U. Bezerra de Meneses, G. Donnay, E. Lévy, A. Bovon, G. Siebert, V. R. Grace, M. Savvatianou-Pétropoulakou, E. Lyding Will, T. Hackens J. Audiat, avec Chr. Llinas, M.-Th. Couilloud, Ph. Bruneau Ph. Bruneau M.-Th. Couilloud A. Laumonier M.-Chr. Hellmann Ph. Fraisse P. Courbin A. Hermary E. Will, avec M. Schmid Ph. Fraisse Chr. Llinas M.-D. Nenna G. Siebert H. Duchêne Ph. Fraisse, avec R. Dalongeville P. Bernier Ph. Bruneau P. Fraisse Ph. Zaphiropoulou P. Fraisse J.-Ch. Moretti
L’îlot de la Maison des comédiens
Le Gymnase Les mosaïques (See also BCH 99 (1975) pp. 306308) Les monuments funéraires de Rhénée (See also: BCH 102 (1978) pp. 859-873 ; 108 (1984) pp. 345353) La céramique hellénistique à reliefs. 1, Ateliers « ioniens » Le Monument aux hexagones et le Portique des Naxiens (See also BCH 113 (1989) pp. 149-160) L'Oikos des Naxiens (See also BCH 111 (1987) pp. 63-78) La sculpture archaïque et classique. I, Catalogue des sculptures classiques à Délos Le sanctuaire de la déesse syrienne Documents d'architecture hellénique et hellénistique Les verres L'Îlot des bijoux, l'Îlot des bronzes et la Maison des sceaux. I, Topographie et architecture Le paysage portuaire de la Délos antique. Recherches sur les installations maritimes, commerciales et urbaines du littoral délien Le Monument à abside et la question de l'autel de cornes La céramique mélienne Le théâtre
XL XLI XLII
2002 2003 2007
Other resources include: Brun and Brunet 1997 Bruneau 1970 Bruneau, Brunet, Farnoux, and Moretti 1996 Bruneau and Ducat 2005 Brunet 1999 Coarelli 1982 Denti 2007 le Dinahet 2001 103
Duchêne and Fraisse 2001 Hatzfeld 1912, 1975 Jebb 1880 Kent 1948 Reger 1993, 1994 Tang 2005 Trümper 2006, 2008, 2009
SYROS 1995? 1995? 1998? EMA EMA A. Simossi (EMA) Rom shrine and LRom tombs near Ag. Stratis church; amphorae in Phoinix harbor Ancient wreck reported at Psathonisi, SW of Kokinas Discovered amphorae and a harbor installation during underwater survey at Foinikas harbor AR 2000-01, p. 121 Ergon YΠΠO 2, p. 151 AR 2000-01, p. 121 ADelt 50 Chr, p. 855 AR 2004-05, p. 91 ADelt 53 Chr B, p. 1026
Ancient capital is known to be at modern Ermoupolis, but the extent of the city and the industrialized areas makes excavation difficult. Other resources include: Sandberg, Nils. 1954. EΥΠΛΟΙΑ. Études Épigraphiques. Göteborg: Wettergren & Kerber. Sosin, Joshua. 2005. “A Common Market on Syros. Two Imperial Letters (IG XII.5 658).” Historia: Zeitschrift für alte Geschichte 54 (2): 222-226.
TENOS 1901-1903 Demoulin P. Graindor (École française d’Athènes) R. Etienne (ÉfA) M. A. Zagdoun Discovered Sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite (SPA) and Tenos town Resumed excavations at the SPA BCH 26, 1902, pp. 420BCH 27, 1903, 233town: Musée Belge 14, 1910, pp. 234AR 1973-74, p. 30 AR 1974-75, p. 22 AR 1975-76, p. 23-24 AR 1977-78, p. 56 AR 1978-79, p. 35 AR 1980-81, p. 37
G. Despina (AS)
LRom house discovered at 104
Evangelistria Grammatikon 1981 A. Hadji-Vallianou Discovery of LRom buildings in the Chora, an inscription from the SPA, and a relief with a reclining figure Published 1st cent. BC relief believed to be associated with the cult of Asklepios Rescue excavations were carried out
Ergon 1980, pp. 25-26 AR 1981-82, p. 46 Adelt 28 Chr. 870-871 AR 1984-85, p. 51 AAA VX.2, 1982, pp. 255260 AR 1998-99, p. 101 Ergon YΠΠO, 1997, pp. 118119
Other resources include: Étienne, Roland. 1990. Ténos II: Ténos et les Cyclades: du milieu du IVe siècle av J.-C. au milieu du IIIe siècle ap. J.-C. Bibliothèque des écoles franc ̜ aises d’Athènes et de Rome 263 bis. Athènes and Paris: Ecole française d’Athènes and diff. de Boccard. Étienne, Roland, Jean-Pierre Braun, and Franc ̜ ois Queyrel. 1986. Ténos I: Le sanctuaire de Poseidon et d’Amphitrite. 3 vols. Bibliothèque des écoles franc ̜ aises d’Athènes et de Rome 263. Athens and Paris: École franc ̜ aise d’Athènes and diff. de Boccard.
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