Ancient Greece, especially Athens, provides the best documented early example of mass democracy. With the democratic reforms of the fifth century, populism – the direct mobilization of the masses – becomes an effective path to power. This chapter looks at several examples from fifth- and fourth-century Athens, which demonstrate the use of demagoguery as an efficient, if much derided, alternative to patronage-based politics. Ancient Rome provides a somewhat different context. As a republic, Rome gave the masses a more limited and indirect role in politics. Typically, politics was a purely elite affair. Yet for those elites who found the normal insider path blocked to them, direct appeals to the masses could prove effective. However, given the limited formal role for the plebs in Roman politics, this direct mobilization could often lead to violence.

This chapter argues that Lucian’s dialogue Timon is best understood as responding to and critiquing polis politics in the Imperial period. Through a number of thinly veiled references to contemporary honorific culture, and in particular to the controversial super-benefactor Herodes Atticus, Lucian makes clear that the target of his satire is not Roman rule itself, but rather the behaviour of the citizens within the Greek cities who were the greatest winners from Roman rule. These individuals had become wealthy and influential through participating in Roman hegemony and now felt that the duties and obligations which membership of a polis imposed on its citizens no longer applied to them, thus threatening the very fabric of polis life. This breaking of the social contract was an abiding concern for polis society, and indeed Lucian makes extensive intertextual use of Classical works addressing precisely this question. The Timon thus not only illustrates the continuing vitality of polis politics in the Imperial period, but also the extent to which the political values which poleis continued to foster were themselves a central part of Greek cultural identity in the Imperial period.

Chapter 5 investigates the political uses of antiquity during wartime. It argues that the War of the Morea was a turning point in the reception of classical tradition that enacted the imperial topos of translatio imperii et studii. The mastery of Greek territories was also a mastery of archaeological sites and artifacts that renewed the culture of antiquity in Venice. The chapter shows that patrician collecting and the public display of antiquities as war trophies were inseparable from an aggressive military antiquarianism that supported the Republic’s new imperial regime with intellectual and cultural power from ancient Greece. Specifically, the occupation of Athens, with its famous history and symbolic potency, inspired strong associations between Venetian maritime supremacy and the fifth-century Athenian empire. But it also launched a new phase in the European rediscovery of Greek art and architecture through one of the darkest episodes of Venetian history: the bombardment and despoliation of the Parthenon.

This chapter introduces the concepts and methods used by the other chapters in the volume, using the long-standing problem of estimating the land carrying capacity of classical Attica to illustrate the benefits of probabilistic modelling. We begin by surveying the development of techniques for managing uncertainty in ancient history (1.1) and past work on the specific problem of Attica’s land carrying capacity (1.2). The chapter then turns to theoretical questions about the nature of uncertainty and probability (1.3), introducing the ‘subjectivist’ conception of probability as degree of belief, a theoretical framework that makes probability a powerful tool for historians. We go on to discuss the procedure of using probability distributions to represent uncertainty about the actual value of a quantity such as average barley yield in ancient Attica (among other variables relevant to the problem of land carrying capacity) (1.4), the need to be aware of cognitive biases that distort our probability judgements (1.5), the use of Monte Carlo simulation to combine uncertainties (1.6), the potential problem of epistemic interdependence (1.7), the interpretation of the outputs of a Monte Carlo simulation (1.8), and the use of sensitivity analysis to identify the most important sources of uncertainty in a simulation. The appendix illustrates model code in R.

The Eumenides contains one of the earliest descriptions anywhere of Hades as a universal judge. The Erinyes threaten Orestes with a continuation of his punishment after death by “the great assessor of mortals beneath the earth.” This passage contains the first extant catalogue of Hades’ ethical concerns: he is said to punish human–divine, parent–child, and guest–host transgressions. Although he “sees all things,” the name Hades derives from a-idein, literally the “unseen,” a moniker that exemplifies the human inability to confront this nonpolitical, absolute judge. By differentiating Hades from the Erinyes, this chapter draws out the dynamics of his character and ethical law. Like them, Hades’ connection with blood and punishment entails pollution, but unlike them, he is never subordinated to Athens. The analysis then contrasts Hades’ law to the “new law” that Athena creates. It argues that Hades represents an alternate, yet still valid ethical code that can be used to critique the jingoistic and bellicose politics of the trilogy’s ending.

This chapter considers what we know about climate in ancient Greece and how this structures our thinking. The issue of very different local environments and interannual variation is observed, both its challenges but also the potential for exploitation. The question of whether and when climate can be related to history is then discussed – the case of 541 CE and the plague under Justinian is considered as an example of what we do and do not know – and some of the main climate proxy evidence available for ancient Greece are briefly reviewed. The Greek to Roman period is mainly notable for a relatively benign and stable climate regime over a number of centuries.

Athens and the Aegean were at the centre of the economic life of the Greek world in the late archaic and classical period. Like the other cities of the Aegean, Athens actively exploited its territory, but the specific characteristic of its economy was the presence of the Laurium mines, which gave it an unbeatable natural advantage over the other players. In the Hellenistic period, the Aegean cities were only one of the many players on the international landscape, and they had lost their pre-eminence, although to a certain extent the city of Rhodes succeeded Athens in its role of platform for international trade, and the little island of Delos ended in being for a while the main hub of trans-Mediterranean trade.

Like those studying other aspects of the ancient world, archaeologists working on housing frequently use textual evidence to provide a framework within which the archaeological material can be understood. This chapter suggests that the reverse can also be helpful, namely using archaeology to provide a context which facilitates a clearer understanding of some of the textual evidence. As an example, I choose three passages from Demosthenes which allude to the character of housing and other buildings in the city of Athens. I read these against the background of broader changes in the architecture of houses being constructed at Athens and other cities in the first half of the 4th century BCE, as well as the new evidence for the lavish palatial building at Vergina, which suggests it was originally constructed by Philip II. I argue that this material shows Demosthenes' allusions are actually veiled references to contemporary politics, and that they highlight an issue which was a matter of debate at Athens during the time he was writing, namely, the increasing use of the house as a symbol of personal wealth and power.

The Classical house can be understood also as a set of interactions between people, objects and valuable commodities that existed within and extended beyond the physical and temporal confines of the house. This chapter concerns ceramic oil jars, lekythoi, that date to the early 5th century BCE. It is argued that the small black-figured lekythoi, which were prolifically produced and widely traded during this time, may have held olive oil, not just perfume. The materiality of these pots and archaeological evidence from settlements, graves and other find-spots suggest that lekythoi could have functioned as oil pitchers to serve small portions of olive oil, perhaps of family production. Vase iconography indicates that such lekythoi were objects within easy reach, to be used on diverse occasions, such as dining, ritual and commercial activities. The offering of lekythoi in burials, irrespective of the presence of contents, could have alluded to the storage of olive oil in the household of the deceased and communicated a powerful message about a family’s claims to status, real or fictitious.

This chapter explores the confluence of music and memory in classical Athens by turning to figures of Sirens that frequently decorated sculpted funerary monuments. Perched above such monuments, as if on their roofs, Sirens are shown either playing musical instruments or in the throes of a lament, accompanied by birds, vessels, or other mourners. Although they occupy a different space than the figures of the deceased and their family carved below, Sirens often adopt similar postures and gestures, suggesting continuities between the body of the deceased and the body of the mourner on a kinesthetic level. Through an analysis of select examples of Siren monuments as well as a passage from Euripides’ Helen, I argue that these mythological creatures generate an imperative for the beholder to respond not simply through an imaginative act of empathy, but as a mourner fully invested in the tragedy at hand, one who remembers the dead. Sirens on funerary monuments suggest the synesthetic dimensions of sculpture, its ability to open up sensorial experiences that extend beyond sight and touch, and its powerful effects on our own capacity to remember.

Through their distinctive iconography and dedicated function as funerary vessels, Athenian white-ground lekythoi of the fifth century BCE serve as significant testimonials about attitudes toward and treatment of the dead. Although the images on lekythoi were not intended as documentary, they nonetheless grant insight into mortuary customs practiced by families and how Athenians conceptualized the deceased and his or her memory. Musical references, while never a predominant subject, can be found on lekythoi throughout their production history. Both living people (male and female) and spirits of the dead (eidōla) hold or play instruments on the vases; instruments can also appear as offerings left at tombs. The multivalence of musical instruments, especially the chelys lyre that is most often depicted, allowed painters to use them to their best symbolic advantage. They can reference a traditional musical education, the archaia paideia, but also evoke virtues like sōphrosynē and commemorative laments performed in honor of the deceased. Recent scholarship on mortuary theory and the deposition of actual instruments in Athenian graves helps support such readings. Whether “real” or pictorial, musical instruments – like the white-ground lekythoi themselves – served as performative objects of memory and mnēmata for the deceased.

Using the most up-to-date archaeological evidence, this chapter studies the sack of Athens by the Heruli in A.D. 267 and the city’s subsequent recovery.

This chapter focuses on the increasingly ambivalent attitudes towards wonder which arose in Athens in the late fifth and early fourth century BCE. The chapter begins by examining Aristotle’s thoughts about the connections between wonder, language and rhetoric. The perceived power of rhetoric and language to create effects of wonder which destabilise previously clearly drawn boundaries and cultural oppositions is then explored further through examinations of the place of marvels and the marvellous in Aristophanes’ Birds and Thucydides’ History. The association between wonder, Athens and Athenian imperial power in this period is also explored.

This chapter focuses on the increasingly ambivalent attitudes towards wonder which arose in Athens in the late fifth and early fourth century BCE. The chapter begins by examining Aristotle’s thoughts about the connections between wonder, language and rhetoric. The perceived power of rhetoric and language to create effects of wonder which destabilise previously clearly drawn boundaries and cultural oppositions is then explored further through examinations of the place of marvels and the marvellous in Aristophanes’ Birds and Thucydides’ History. The association between wonder, Athens and Athenian imperial power in this period is also explored.

Early attempts by Parthian rulers to take Babylon were short-lived, but in 141 BC they established their kingship by celebrating the New Year festival. Chronicles and astronomical diaries continued to be written. An independent ruler of Maysan in the Sealand, Hyspaosines, captured the port on the Tigris, took control of Bahrain and Failaka to control Gulf trade, and briefly claimed kingship of Babylon. He wrote in Aramaic. The Parthians regained control and rebuilt the Greek theatre. The old buildings and city plan continued to be in use, although the Summer Palace had been reroofed with terracotta tiles. New kinds of text were written on clay in cuneiform, astronomical science developed; an archive shows that temples were still active, and much older literature was still prized. Greek knowledge of the Epic of Creation was still alive in Athens from the time of Alexander until the sixth century AD. The cult of Bēl had spread west to Palmyra, to the Aegean island of Kos, and north to Edessa. In AD 116 Trajan visited the Summer Palace on a pilgrimage to the place where Alexander had died.

Socrates presents particular challenges to reception studies for the obvious reason that he did not write anything and thus left no textual corpus for posterity to receive. It is instead his own body (corpus) that often becomes the focal point of reception. This chapter examines the reception of Socrates in the works of Isocrates. Unlike other Socratics who had direct access to Socrates and left careful portraits of the philosopher from a group of like-minded admirers, Isocrates offers an interesting insight into the way in which Socrates (both his physical presence and his turning into an imaginary model figure) was perceived to have shaped the cultural and philosophical landscape in Athens. Though sometimes also counted among Socrates’ admirers, this chapter argues that Isocrates’ works offer a fundamentally critical reflection on Socrates and his teacher role in Athens. This critical insight becomes a key motivation for Isocrates’ own work and there is indeed much at stake: according to Isocrates, Athens is need for a new teacher and philosopher figure (Isocrates himself) who would supplant the statuesque Socrates.