Die ‘Agora des Italiens’ in Delos: Baugeschichte, Architektur, Ausstattung und Funktion einer späthellenistischen Porticus-Anlage. by Monika Trümper (review)

The Agora of the Italians on Delos—a large, slightly trapezoidal enclosure (3440 m²) surrounded by a double-storied colonnade on all four sides located at the north of the sanctuary of Apollo—has been one of the most discussed Hellenistic buildings over the past four decades. The debate has revolved around the function of the building. Excavated between 1877 and 1905, and published in 1939 by É. Lapalus, the building was given the appellation “Agora des Italiens.” Although the name has remained, the identification of the building as an agora was questioned early on. It has been interpreted as a multifunctional commercial meeting center for the Italians and Romans (Ph. Bruneau), a slave-market (M. Cocco and F. Coarelli), and an all-purpose recreational facility featuring a combined palaestra, gladiatorial arena, and bath complex (N. Rauh). Trümper’s book—a revision of her 2004 Heidelberg Habilitationsschrift—compellingly argues for a new interpretation of the building as a luxurious porticoed garden— such as the Porticus Pompei in Rome—which also featured a bath complex. Italians and Romans met at their leisure in this complex which, for Trümper, symbolized “Villenglück fürs Volk” and should be understood as an important forerunner of the numerous porticoed gardens and public baths of the imperial period.¹

The building was built around 120 B.C.E., during a period in which Delos had become an international commercial center, an intermediary in Rome’s commercial relations with the Hellenistic East. Italians and Romans formed the largest ethnic contingent on the island and the building served their need to present themselves and promote their interests. But the building was also open to the wider cosmopolitan Delian community—as is suggested by the non-Italian donors—that interacted with the Roman-Italian community for economic and political reasons.

By analyzing its architecture, Trümper addresses the ways in which the building amalgamates the architectural practices of Hellenistic and Roman cultures. Her discussion is exhaustive and persuasive, addressing previous scholarship and analyzing various building types and forms attested across the Hellenistic world. By examining the archaeological remains as well as the archival documentation of the building, Trümper traces its chronological development. The bath complex and the shops were later additions, as were several niches in the porticoes—but an absolute chronology cannot be established. The inner enclosure was unpaved, which leads Trümper to argue that it was a garden. She admits that there are no archaeological remains of a garden but points to the evidence suggesting that: the abundant provision of water in the enclosure secured by three or more wells as well as the fact that the waste water from the bathing complex added later was directed into it rather onto the nearby street. An important objection to this interpretation is that the geophysical exploration of 2000 and the test trench of 2002—both conducted by R. Étienne (BCH 127 [2003] 502-503)—showed the presence of a layer of stones (perhaps from a previous building) on the west side of the enclosure, where the principal entrance was located. Trümper persuasively argues, however, that although the existence of a garden is not proven, the combination of the architectural framework of the portico enclosure and the extensive decorative and sculptural program points to the imperial public garden porticoes, with which we are familiar from the western Mediterranean. Given the building’s short life and the time it takes to cultivate a garden, I would suggest that a park was envisaged but never fully realized.

Less convincing is Trümper’s discussion of the upper story of the enclosure, which R. Vallois reconstructed as an open Ionic colonnade. Following up on Lapalus’s observation that the...