This study has argued that Xenophon seeks to educate his elite Athenian readers concerning their critical political role within democratic Athens and that he pursues this project in diverse ways in his writings. Xenophon’s profound interest in this topic may have its origins in the turmoil that he witnessed in Athens in the final decade of the fifth century and that he recounts in the opening books of the Hellenica. Xenophon’s presentation of the Arginusae affair (405) makes it clear that in his view the success of the Athenian democracy depends largely on the quality of its elite leaders, on whose advice and guidance the dēmos relies. Although Xenophon’s narrative of the events of 404/3 suggests that he is sympathetic with those who sought to replace democracy with a moderate oligarchy, his negative depiction of the reign of the Thirty, which turned out to be far from moderate, and his favorable portrayal of the restored democracy indicate that he does not regard constitutional change as realistic or even desirable for Athens. In light of this, the question of the political role of the city’s elite takes on a special urgency for Xenophon: If the democratic city cannot prosper without good elite leadership, how can the Athenian elite lead responsibly and effectively?

The common perception of craftsmen in Classical Athens as banausoi who were looked down on by elite circles in society has become more nuanced over recent years. This chapter contributes to this discussion by investigating the range of social positions in evidence for ancient sculptors. Using theories of professionalism and the aspects of need, demand and reward for sculpture, it argues that in terms of economic rewards as well as social capital, sculptors in Classical Athens were rather well off. As such the negative connotations of banausoi are unlikely to match the realities of ancient Athenian life.

In recent years, different scholars of ancient historyand archaeology have sparked a lively debate aboutthe meaning and function of stationes within the city of Rome and inother places of the Roman world, particularly inharbour towns. Since the term itself – derived fromRoman military and institutional nomenclature –seems to suggest it, the stationes are often seen as officialoutposts of cities from other parts of the RomanEmpire. On the other hand, as Koenraad Verboven haspointed out, the stationes were firmly embedded in themilieux offoreigners, especially from the eastern provinces,who had established themselves permanently inwestern cities, and in the voluntary associationswhich they established. So how then can we describethe particular function of a statio in comparison to other modes oforganization, particularly voluntaryassociations?

Trading systems are never random. The lone merchant,sailing the seas in search of lucrative markets, haslittle hope of rising above his station.Long-distance trade depends on networks that linkmerchants and shippers to financiers, suppliers andclients. Merchants need to cooperate, negotiate andmediate. They need to put faith in commitments. Theshape of trade networks varies depending on culturalnorms and values, legal requirements anddistribution of resources, but also on thepersonality, talent, acuity and ingenuity of themerchants themselves.

One question that arises from a study of ports iswhether or not there existed a pattern of portsocieties. A Roman port society means theindividuals and groups who together with variouslevels of administration made port life real, aswell as their relationships and the rules of thesocial game. Using the plural presupposes that thesecould vary through time and space. Ports were notsimply an administrative machine whose details stillpuzzle us. They were also cosmopolitan placesdevoted to profit that involved a complex set ofprofessions and people of various origins and socialstatus, with various patterns of organization andnetworking (citizenship, language, religion, guilds,personal patronage, family in its wider sense), whowere able to combine in a great variety of ways. Atthis point one wonders whether there was a patternof society that was common to ports across theEmpire as a whole. Were there several patterns thatcould help us better understand or identify porthierarchies and the organization and layout ofports?

The chapter begins by looking into the absence of the noun frugalitas in authors before the first century BCE and traces the reasons for its rise to prominence as a virtue-label in Cicero. This involves consideration of the adjective frugi: primarily used of slaves and freedmen, it was adopted as an agnomen by Lucius Calpurnius Piso Frugi (cos. 133 BCE) in an act of onomastic creativity. Piso’s integration of frugi into his nomenclature ennobled the attribute and thereby facilitated Cicero’s investment in the abstract noun: at two specific moments in his career, here analysed in depth, i.e. the speeches against Verres (70 BCE) and the Tusculan Disputations along with the speech on behalf of king Deiotarus (45 BCE), Cicero made the unorthodox decision to promote frugalitas as a quintessential Roman virtue, thereby setting the stage for its stellar career in imperial times and later centuries. The chapter concludes with a survey of the use authors of the early empire (Horace, Valerius Maximus, Seneca the Elder, Petronius, Seneca the Younger, Quintilian and Pliny the Younger) made of frugi, frugaliter and frugalitas.

Surveys the physical, social, religious, cultural and demographic changes which take place in the sixth and seventh centuries, preparing the stage for the detailed study from 700 CE onwards. The intention is to demonstrate that Rome in 700 was a ‘Byzantine’ city, a ‘Constantinople on the Tiber’ in the phrase coined by Per Jonas Nordhagen.