Scholarship and Salutaris’s Foundation

The foundation of Gaius Vibius Salutaris, ratified late December 103 CE or early January 104 CE, records a financial gift of 21,500 denarii (the interest of which was to be distributed to civic groups in lotteries during the celebration of Artemis’s birthday) and a series of thirty-one gold and silver statuettes, which were to be carried by certain civic groups in a procession from the Artemision to the theatre (and then back to the Artemision).Footnote ¹⁰ There has already been a great deal of scholarship on Salutaris’ foundation and the resulting procession. The history of the monument can be traced from its discovery by J. T. Wood, drawings and reconstructions of the text by Heberdey, its publication in the first volume of Inschriften von Ephesos to more recent publications such as Guy Rogers’ detailed reconstruction of the procession.Footnote ¹¹ Published after Price’s ground-breaking scholarship on the Imperial Cult, Rogers remains a seminal work of scholarship, offering a careful assessment of the inscription, the foundation, the procession, and its route through the urban context.Footnote ¹²

Rogers’s reconstruction of Salutaris’s procession reflects the order, the solidarity, and the permanency conveyed by the text, presenting an event that took place ‘exactly as it was scripted’.Footnote ¹³ This approach to ritual reconstructions can seem a bit static, it does not consider the significant changes that could be caused by variant circumstances, performers, types of performance, audience, atmosphere, etc.Footnote ¹⁴ Subsequent scholarship has often employed this information with a focus on connecting the text and the event it describes, with particular focus on the portable images and buildings along the processional route, in a ‘dynamic, stereoscopic display’.Footnote ¹⁵ Subsequent scholars, however, have raised issues with Rogers’s text-based readings of Salutaris and the boule (the local assembly) and demos (translated as ‘the Ephesian people’, generally male citizens of the city who attended the boule) in particular, his interpretation of the event as a primarily didactic experience for the ephebes (young male citizens (circa fourteen to seventeen years of age)) ‘to educate the youth and future leaders about the city’s history and social order’.Footnote ¹⁶ While surviving monuments clearly attest to the fact that the procession took place, they are not, as Rogers suggests, proof that the ritual performance took place ‘exactly as Salutaris planned it’ or that it had a consistently successful outcome.Footnote ¹⁷

Recent scholarship on Salutaris’s procession, including Weiss’s reconstruction of the procession as a place-making event and Ng’s assessment of the ritual performance, have provided valuable contributions to our understanding of the event. Weiss’s work on place-making steps beyond Rogers’s benefactor-centred approach to consider broader meanings and contexts for the ritual. Ng considers how ritual performance, often labelled as ‘ephemeral’, could have a more longstanding impact by means of a ‘symbiosis between physical artefacts, recurring ritual, and honorific practice’, which served to honour Salutaris through a repeated ritual performance and visual association.Footnote ¹⁸ While Weiss and Ng offer constructive insights to the ritual experience, their assessments are built upon Rogers’s reconstruction of the procession as a successful event that adheres faithfully to Salutaris’s claims of a positive outcome.Footnote ¹⁹

Ng’s insightful observations about semantic learning (things that we ‘just know’) and ritual repetition cite an equation ‘2+2=4’ as an example of how repetition embeds expectation and/or knowledge of an outcome. While 2 + 2 almost invariably equals 4, and the script of a ritual may present a similar sense of repetition and outcome, the performance of a ritual is a more complex endeavour.Footnote ²⁰ Ritual events could provide a myriad of different experiences and outcomes. The assumption that a ritual had a predictable or guaranteed outcome seems to overlook the capricious and organic atmosphere that made these experiences unique and exciting. The perception of a ritual was shaped by its outcome. A key factor in understanding the experience of a ritual, therefore, is a consideration of how different outcomes impacted the perception of a ritual performance.Footnote ²¹ While positive outcomes are likely, recent scholarship on the concept of ritual failure prompts us to approach ritual events with caution. The concept of ritual failure does not undermine Ng’s observations on the value of semantic learning, rather, it adds another level of understanding; repetitions that were intended to embed continuity could also come to represent change. The Roman term instauratio refers both to the repetition of a ritual and attempts at expiation: correcting a failed ritual performance.Footnote ²² It is worth questioning whether this event took place as it was scripted and if the experience of the ritual was the same for all audience members (citizens, performers, foreigners).

Kokkinia’s recent study of Salutaris as a benefactor illustrates how little we know of the man: he was a Roman citizen of the equestrian order and member of the Ephesian boule, who held posts as a military tribune, a tax farmer, a grain supply contractor, and subprocurator in Sicily, Mauritania, and Belgium.Footnote ²³ Building upon critiques of Rogers, Kokkinia’s revisions of the fragmentary inscription raise a number of important questions about how the foundation worked in practice: if Salutaris retained the principle sum, whether the statuettes of Trajan and Plotina were added to the procession after his death, whether he was well-received by the local elite.Footnote ²⁴ She examines a number of the monumental claims: how Salutaris managed the funds, the significance of terminology, the sizes of the statuettes, and subsequent changes to the foundation.Footnote ²⁵ Her presentation of Salutaris as a well-connected, savvy businessman-benefactor steps beyond script-based approaches, questioning the accuracy of a script as a sole source for reconstructing the ritual event.

Salutaris Foundation As a Script: Repetition, Rituality, and Claims of Control

Gaius Vibius Salutaris’s bequest, which was proposed and formally ratified on the sixth day of the month of Poseidon (December/January in late 103 or 104 CE) was probably the product of substantial discussion and negotiation with the boule and demos.Footnote ²⁶ The resulting monument, often called ‘Salutaris’s foundation’ was inscribed on the south parodos of the Theatre at Ephesus by the boule and demos.Footnote ²⁷ The term ‘foundation’ is a bit of a misnomer: the monument is a collection of seven documents from local institutions and Imperial officials (proconsul and legate) which records complex interactions between a private citizen, civic institutions (e.g. the ephebes and Ephesian tribes, the boule and demos) and Imperial authorities. These documents, which repeat key information (i.e. dates, ritual directives, and successful affirmations), present a relatively seamless and streamlined process.Footnote ²⁸ This image is at odds with the complexity of the foundation and the process recorded in other foundations.Footnote ²⁹

1. 1. Document 1: An honorary decree for Salutaris and his foundation (ll. 1–133).

2. 2. Document 2: Salutaris’s proposal διάταξις as ratified by the Boule (ll. 134–332).

3. 3. Document 3: Letter from Aquillius Proculus, the proconsul (ll. 333–69).

4. 4. Document 4: Letter from Afranius Flavianus, legatus pro praetore (ll. 370–413).

5. 5. Documents 5–6: Decrees by the Ephesian council allowing gold bearers to participate in the procession and providing seating (ll.414–30; 431–46).

6. 6. Document 7: Salutaris’s further proposal (διάταξις) (ll. 447–568).

The foundation is a monument to control, it sets out what was given including the capital sums that were awarded to each civic group in the lottery, the weight, material, and image of the statuettes, when the processions took place, who would carry and care for the statuettes, how the procession would proceed as well as where the statuettes would be placed within the theatre.Footnote ³⁰ Of equal importance were forbidden actions: changes to the foundation, selling off the foundation, and damaging the statuettes.Footnote ³¹ Rogers observes the ‘relentless use of ritual language’ and the use of repeated formulae also convey ritual action.Footnote ³² These repetitions have important ramifications for rituality and questions of readership.

More than 10 per cent of the 568 lines in five of the seven documents refer to the inviolability (e.g. penalties against changes determined by the Roman governing officials) of the ritual event, making this feature possibly the most important point of the foundation: 25,000 denarii to Artemis, 25,000 to the emperor. ‘If anyone either private citizens or city officials should put to vote anything against the bequest, which is ratified by this decree, or change it, let the whole thing opposite be invalid.’Footnote ³³ The language of the penalty clause, not unlike Greek or Roman curse tablets or the Customs Law of Asia, sets out both a punishment and a wide net of possible offenders, including urban officials at Ephesos.Footnote ³⁴ The penalty for changing the foundation claimed to be about twice its net worth, and these funds would be split between Artemis and the fiscus of lord Caesar.Footnote ³⁵ The repeated nature of the penalties suggests genuine fears, which may reflect Salutaris’s experience as a tax official and as a witness at ritual events. Attempts to control the success of the foundation should be seen as an attempt to create stability, rather than proof of its existence. Despite warnings, changes were made to the inscription and the ritual performance.Footnote ³⁶ Claims that the event took place ‘for all time’ were not applicable in practice: organising officials were only employed for their lifetimes.Footnote ³⁷

Salutaris’s foundation provides numerous stage directions regarding space. Instructions for the execution of the procession are set out five times.Footnote ³⁸ The placing of the statuettes on the bases is repeated five times in the different documents and appears to be a key part of the ritual performance at the theatre (explored in Part III).Footnote ³⁹ The statuettes were carried by the guards and two neopoioi (temple wardens) from the Temple of Artemis to the Magnesian Gate, where they were handed over to the ephebes, who carried them to the theatre, returning them to the neopoioi and the guards at the Koressian gate after the precipitating event (Figure 4.1). This procession was to occur repeatedly: at the first new moon’s sacrifice of the archieratic year, during the twelve sacred gatherings and regular assemblies every month, at the Sebasteia, the Soteria, and Penteric festivals, at all athletic contexts, and on any other days determined by the boule and demos.Footnote ⁴⁰ The text prescribes many factors, such as who carries the statues (the guards, the neopoioi, and the ephebes) and how they are meant to be carried ‘with due dignity’.Footnote ⁴¹ Later additions scripted where statue bearers could sit and what they should wear (white robes).Footnote ⁴² These elements, added to the staging of the ritual, seem to focus on the performance at the theatre, rather than the procession.

Figure 4.1

Map of Ephesus depicting the Processional Route.

Courtesy of the Austrian Archaeological Institute/Academy of Sciences (Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften). Copyright ÖAW/ÖAI. Labels and arrows added by A. Graham

The statuettes, like the foundation, are presented as inviolate, barring a detailed list of changes to ‘cult images’ or ‘other images’, melting them down or ‘doing any evil’ or adjusting the weight of the statuettes (111 pounds in total), which is to be measured and checked.Footnote ⁴³ Descriptions, types, weights, and pairings of the statues are subject to fifty lines of text.Footnote ⁴⁴ The descriptors for the types of statuettes (apeikonismata (a likeness or possibly a reproduction of a statue)) and eikona (portrait/likeness) have been the subject of much discussion and debate but definitive conclusions on the meanings are not forthcoming.Footnote ⁴⁵ The groupings present an amalgamation of different local and Roman institutions, presenting an image of successful cultural syncretism.Footnote ⁴⁶

Trajan and Plotina: kept by Salutaris in his house during his lifetime

1. 1. Artemis and The Boule: Artemis, 2 deer, The Senate, The Boule

2. 2. Artemis and The Gerousia*: Artemis, The city of Rome, the GerousiaFootnote ⁴⁷

3. 3. Artemis and the Ephebes*: Artemis, The Equestrian Order, the Ephebes

4. 4. Artemis and the Tribe of Sebaste*: Artemis, Deified Augustus, Sebaste Tribe

5. 5. Artemis and Tribe of Ephesians: Artemis, Demos of Rome(?) Ephesian Tribe

6. 6. Artemis and Tribes of Karenaeans*: Artemis, Androkles, Karenaean Tribe

7. 7. Artemis and Tribe of the Teians*: Artemis, Lysimachus (?) Teian Tribe

8. 8. Artemis and Tribe of Euonumoi: Artemis, Euonumos, Tribe of Euonumoi

9. 9. Artemis and Tribe of Bembinaeans*: Artemis, Pion Tribe of Bembinaeans

10. 10. **Artemis and Ephesian Boys (Paides)*: Athena Pammousos

11. 11. **Artemis and the Chrysophoroi: Sebaste Homonoia ChrysophorosFootnote ⁴⁸

The record of the statues asserts control over a positive outcome: setting out weights, material, maintenance, and conduct of those who carried them. However, these claims of positive outcomes and perpetuity in the text are contradicted by the numerous repetitive clauses of threats and penalties against a stream of possible negative outcomes for performers, props and the procession itself (e.g. changes, desecration, even death). The weights for statuettes, some of which survive (this part of the foundation is quite fragmentary), do not reveal the size of the statuettes. While further study could add to these discussions, there is a general consensus that the figures were statuettes rather than statues, which impacts visibility and one’s ability to recognise specific figures or connections within the urban space.Footnote ⁴⁹

Salutaris’s foundation makes several attempts to control the staging of the ritual performance, including elements such as timing, money, space, and appearance (of the images and the performers), to ensure a positive outcome for the event. Assurances include the inviolability of the foundation (time), the solvency of the finances (money), the course and frequency of the procession, the ritual placement of statues on bases (space), as well as the care of statues and the proper behaviour of the performers (imagery). Each of these positivist claims represents an element of unpredictability and a possible negative outcome in the foundation. The need to fund and establish clear directives for the ritual performance acknowledges the difficulties that Ephesians experienced in performances, which was also attested in a monumental inscription on the theatre’s north parodos.Footnote ⁵⁰ While repetitions are an integral part of the document, the extent to which ritual language and repetitions were visible to a passing viewer, requires more consideration.

Reading Salutaris’s Foundation: The Visibility of the Foundation

While repetitive language and clauses in Salutaris’s foundation have been a subject of much scholarship, the way that these features were presented in the monumental inscription and how this message was understood by the audience, has received less attention. The British Museum’s image of the reconstructed foundation inscription (Figure 4.2) is used by Rogers and several scholars, who tend to adopt his views that the text was ‘difficult to read’, labelling the inscription as a ‘conspicuous’ but a largely ‘symbolic’ monument.Footnote ⁵¹ This conflation between reading a script and viewing a performance is understandable, especially given the difficulties in accessing the monumental inscription in its current state.Footnote ⁵² In ancient and modern contexts, the idea of bringing a script into a performance may seem strange. The script, like the root of a tree, tends to remain below ground with the performance rising up from it. The conspicuous nature of the text’s location does not necessarily imply a reading of the text, but it does suggest visual engagement with the appearance of the monument.

Figure 4.2

Photograph of Salutaris’s Foundation.

© The Trustees of the British Museum

One needs to differentiate between reading a script and reading a monument. While there is not sufficient time or space here to devote a full study to the monumental inscription and the surviving bases, a few key aesthetic observations can be made.Footnote ⁵³ The foundation inscription was a work of art: with 568 surviving lines of text beautifully arranged across six columns at a height from 2.08 to 4.30 metres, it was some carver’s or his workshop’s masterpiece. The varying letter sizes (1–4 cm) are used to illustrate key sections of the text, and not, as has been implied, only decreasing in size from top to bottom.Footnote ⁵⁴ While we think of text as two-dimensional writing (this is often how we read inscriptions in a published format), inscribed letters present a fundamentally different experience: they are tangible, three-dimensional with light and depth. They are much larger than conventional writing, which emphasises their monumentality. The location of the script in a prominent place outside the theatre (Figure 4.1, no. 75), where the procession would pause before going up the steps to the balustrade, was not coincidental: it gave performers and the prospective audience a moment to glance at a visual record of the event. A glance was not sufficient to read part or all of the text, but it may have allowed a passing viewer to observe the overall appearance and visual framework of the inscription as a ritual document.Footnote ⁵⁵

A quick visual survey of the monumental inscription illustrates several key points that reflect the ideology of the text and the resulting performance. Document headings with repetitive formulae situate the different documents in time and space. Headings are emphasised visually with larger letters, margins, and spacing (Figure 4.3).Footnote ⁵⁶ Capitalisation (use of larger letters at the start of key and/or repetitive clauses: ‘likewise’ and ritual clauses ‘if anyone’) in the left-hand margin provides a defined shape for the writing, visual breaks for the eye, and further emphasises the rituality of the event (Figure 4.4).Footnote ⁵⁷ These visual cues and framework of writing, evident in parallel documents at the theatre (e.g. Persicus’s Decree on the adjacent north parodos), could also apply to Ng’s ‘semantic learning’ in which the eye could recognise and ‘just know’ a frequently repeated image or icon of a document without necessarily reading it.Footnote ⁵⁸ Literacy is required to read a document but not to recognise the time, effort, and precision that is reflected in this ornate inscription. The complexity and repetition in the inscription reflect monumental efforts in creating, ratifying, and inscribing text or carrying out the ritual event.

Figure 4.3

Photograph of the Salutaris Inscription: Column One: lines 1–9.

Photo by the author, courtesy of the British Museum

Figure 4.4

Photograph of the Salutaris Inscription: Column Six: lines 528–36.

Photo by the author, courtesy of the British Museum

While Rogers claims that ‘there was no ritual act’ in the procession, the act of inscribing the long series of documents could be considered a ritual behaviour that allowed both performers and the audience to connect the reification of Salutaris’s foundation as a document with the ritual procession statuettes and the bases in the theatre. Those who witnessed the event did not need to read the script, simply viewing the writing and its appearance in context would be enough to embed the experience as a memory, that could be recalled at the sight of the monumental inscription, the bases, or the ritual performance.Footnote ⁵⁹ The role of repetition, and interaction with objects and spaces, together with community engagement, as observed in Blanka Misic’s Chapter 1 and Religious Learning Network theoretical model, served to embed a memory in a dynamic format of associations that was readily stored and accessed by an audience.

Timing the Procession: A Performer’s Perspective

Rogers carefully maps the procession and its route from the Artemision to the theatre ‘the first and only stop’ (Figure 4.1, no. 1).Footnote ⁶⁵ The distance covered was over seven stades (1.3 kilometres) and probably more like two kilometres including the procession through the city.Footnote ⁶⁶ While the route, the distance, and the timing of the procession are well constructed from the text, one must question if the record of the event is a complete account. In an ideal scenario, the procession could have taken as little as thirty-five minutes but for the participants, the planning and execution would have taken significantly longer.Footnote ⁶⁷ The participants of a procession (and part of the audience) must have understood that detailed planning was required in the execution of such an event.

For Mousaios and the temple workers, the statuettes had to be taken from the Artemision, cleaned, polished, weighed, and placed in the proper order and assigned to a specific individual who carried them in the procession to the Magnesian gate.Footnote ⁶⁸ The initial groupings contained twenty-seven statues on nine bases, later twenty-nine (possibly thirty-one, if Trajan and Plotina were added after Salutaris’s death) on eleven bases. Arranging the statues in the correct groups for the eleven statuette bases at the theatre would have been difficult and confusion was possible.Footnote ⁶⁹ The preparation of these figures would have added at least thirty minutes for these participants. Those carrying statuettes from the Artemision, Mousaios, the neopoioi, the chrysophoroi (‘the gold-bearers’ an association of sacred priests and victors), and the beadles, had to arrive well before the departure of the procession to arrange themselves. To assure that a procession arrived in the theatre by noon, participants must have arrived at the Artemision at least an hour before (circa 11 am), leaving their homes considerably earlier (circa 10.30 am).

In the city, the ephebes needed to assemble at the Magnesian gate to receive the statuettes at the appropriate time, probably thirty minutes before the main event (circa 11.30). The timing of the procession would also depend on the number of participants if, as Rogers suggests, all 250 ephebes attended.Footnote ⁷⁰ The assumption that Ephesian youths were ever-present (e.g. not travelling to other festivals) and assiduously attended meetings and/or festivals, seems somewhat optimistic.Footnote ⁷¹ Although Rogers presents the theatre as the sole ‘stop’ in the procession, the handover of nearly thirty valuable gold and silver statuettes at the gate must have been a quite complicated baton-passing event, which required some pause in the procession.Footnote ⁷² Scholarship on place theory has shown how pauses can act as points of determination for the place meaning: movement travels through space, while pause creates a concept of place.Footnote ⁷³ If this transfer was ritually significant, playing ‘on a physical and ritual distinction between city and country’ it would have to be well orchestrated.Footnote ⁷⁴

In practice, this transfer of statues could be quite complicated. Performers had to be in the proper order for their base pairings and maintain that order throughout the procession. For those that have ever passed a baton at a sporting event, it is a complex and nerve-wracking process. Ng’s study refers to ‘rehearsals’ for this event but no rehearsals are scripted in the text and a positive outcome is assumed. Performers, at this stage, were probably more concerned about staying in the right order, taking the correct statues and not dropping them, as opposed to contemplating their role in society. This is not to say that people would have ignored the historical significance of the urban gateway, but that the complexity of the handover would have been a more pressing and immediate concern.

Once inside the Magnesian gate, timing also depended on the behaviour and experience of the statuette carriers: the ephebes. Proper behaviour (‘with due dignity’) on the part of the ephebes is scripted in the foundation text, but the need to set out stipulations suggests that good behaviour was not guaranteed.Footnote ⁷⁵ The fact that statuettes were weighed before and after the event also suggests that damage, intended or accidental, could befall these objects.Footnote ⁷⁶ While performers naturally bonded with the images they carried, they also bore responsibility for the safe delivery of these objects, which could have resulted in positive feelings of inclusion and/or negative feelings of apprehension or anxiety. If the performers were ‘regulars’ (carrying the statuettes to and from the city gates or the Artemision as frequently as twice a month), then a smooth process certainly could have developed over time. However, the ephebes were, by nature, an inconsistent civic group, continually growing into adulthood. Further questions emerge about how the performers were designated (was the lottery somehow connected to designating individuals from each of these groups). The text does not reveal how the ephebes carried the statuettes (single file or in groups) though this would impact how they were viewed during the procession.Footnote ⁷⁷ Another factor in the recognition and perception of these figures is their size: Rogers refers to them as ‘statues’ but recent scholarship correctly identifies them as smaller figures: statuettes.Footnote ⁷⁸

The procession then marched through the city’s most crowded urban thoroughfares and into the theatre, both of which offered potential adversities, to be explored in the next section. Entering into the theatre and aligning the twenty-nine statuettes on the bases required significant organisation.Footnote ⁷⁹ If there were 250 ephebes, this part of the procession would consume more time and space: as ephebes gathered along the balustrade waiting to place the figures on the bases, extra performers (only thirty ephebes were needed) could potentially obfuscate a view of the ritual performance. There would be an inevitable pause when the statuettes were placed on the bases.

For an assembly meeting that was scheduled at midday, one probably needed to leave the Artemision significantly (at least circa forty-five minutes) earlier. Participants would have to arrive well in advance, leaving their homes in the city, while workers at the Artemision rose early to polish the statuettes. The ephebes must have been at the Magnesian gate well before the meeting, also leaving their homes about an hour before the scheduled meeting time. The return procession was presumably another thirty minutes (less for the ephebes). In the event of a ninety-minute assembly meeting, ephebes would be committed for three hours (circa 11 am–2 pm) while the guardians, neopoioi, chryosphoroi, sacred victors, and the beadle going to and from the Artemision were committed for four hours. When one considers this time commitment for participants, as often as twice a month, their efforts could be viewed as a form of sacrifice, perhaps one that merited payment.Footnote ⁸⁰

When one tries to recreate this event on a practical level, it becomes clear how much the prescriptive document does not tell us about the procession’s organisation: how many people walked in it, how these people were determined and organised, how they marched (single file or in groups of three). At a time when no one even possessed a wristwatch or a means of communication with people in different places, the arrangement of individuals, meeting times, and ritual action would have been a significant feat of organisation with a significant capacity for error.

Controlling Space and Place: The Route of the Procession

A commonly recurring factor in the foundation, which could impact the experience of a procession, was the route it took through the city. Rogers and Feuser suggest different routes through the State Agora, each of which would have had a different visual impact and associations with buildings. Rogers suggests that the procession turned right (north) off the street from the Magnesian Gate, proceeding along the west side of the State Agora and then entering the Basilica stoa (Figure 4.1, no. 21), which fronted several key civic buildings (e.g. the Temple of Dea Roma, the Bouleuterion, and the Prytaneion).Footnote ⁸¹ Feuser and Weiss propose a traditional processional route, continuing along the south side of the State Agora past a fountain, and a reservoir, turning right (north) past more fountains and an Imperial Cult temple to the Divi Vespasiani.Footnote ⁸² Rogers describes the procession route as a ‘physical map of the foundation’, a journey through space and time that can be quite difficult to follow.Footnote ⁸³ The route, like the urban contexts through which it travelled, was not chronologically, geographically, or architecturally linear.Footnote ⁸⁴ Rogers’s analysis of the urban context, particularly the State Agora, seems predicated on associations between images and the urban space.Footnote ⁸⁵ Practical elements in selecting the route (e.g. it was the most expedient or well-paved path available) are not included.Footnote ⁸⁶

While it is important to understand the history of the urban context at Ephesus, the assumption that it was a primary factor in the audience’s perception of the event may be pushing the envelope. If the procession moved quickly through the urban thoroughfares, how much time or visibility would be given to specific images or buildings? For an historian or author of a foundation, connections between the imagery and background may have been a part of scripting the event and setting the stage for the ritual. The role that the urban context played in the experience of the ritual procession for performers or the audience, however, is less clear. Neither the description of a ritual procession in An Ephesian Tale (Part III) nor the foundation text refer to more than a few specific buildings in Ephesus, all of which serve as liminal points (starting, pausing, or stopping) in the procession.Footnote ⁸⁷ This is not to say that spectators did not read the imagery carried by statue bearers, but that associations between images and buildings may not have been the primary concern.Footnote ⁸⁸

A more immediate concern than the cultural heritage of the buildings along the processional route was probably the physical limitations imposed by the urban space. During the handover of statuettes at the Magnesian Gate (Figure 4.1, no. 13), Rogers places circa 250 ephebes in a courtyard by the gate. Though the dimensions appear generous (22.8 × 28 metres), the gateway had two towers and the procession route bisected this space, reducing it significantly.Footnote ⁸⁹ The dimensions do not include stalls, shops, monuments, and altars, which likely occupied the space as well.Footnote ⁹⁰ The remaining space would struggle to hold 250 ephebes and the statuette bearers (the neopoioi, chrysophoroi, and beadles) let alone an observing crowd.Footnote ⁹¹ Assuming that the procession did not walk alongside moving vehicles, measures would have been taken to halt traffic through the Magnesian gate.Footnote ⁹² While this was expected on festival days, the frequency of the procession (twice a month) would have had a significant impact.

Regardless of which path the procession took through the State Agora, the path down the Embolus, often called the ‘Kuretes Street’, was potentially treacherous and was probably not undertaken at a ‘brisk’ pace. The steep incline on the upper half of this road has an average gradient between 10–11 degrees (Figure 4.5).Footnote ⁹³ For modern hill walkers, wearing hiking boots on thick surfaces, this gradient is at the upper limits of what is considered a ‘gentle incline’; for young men walking single file in strappy sandals while conspicuously carrying silver statuettes, this was a significant adversity to maintaining pace and balance. Even today, the walk on smooth stones is difficult in a pair of sandals, on a wet surface it could be lethal. While young performers may have marvelled at the solid weight in their hands and considered historical connections between passing buildings, it is equally possible that they were sweating with anxiety, focused on navigating the paving stones, trying to ignore burning muscles from holding the statue upright for ten minutes. As noted in Emma-Jayne Graham’s Chapter 2 in this volume, understanding religious materials requires an attempt to rematerialise objects and those who carried them, to restore a ‘real world substance’ to these symbols.

Figure 4.5

Photograph of the Kuretes Street from the Embolos, by the author

Construction along these urban thoroughfares was also a significant concern. The Embolus, recently repaired under Domitian, was subject to many urban projects during Trajan’s reign: Tiberius Claudius (Ti. Cl.) Aristio undertook a series of urban projects at Ephesus (circa 102–117 CE) including an aqueduct with a reservoir and two fountains in the State Agora (Figure 4.1, nos. 15 and 38).Footnote ⁹⁴ Varius Valens commissioned a temple structure, baths, and public latrines (Figure 4.1, nos. 41 and 42).Footnote ⁹⁵ As a number of these projects relied upon the completion of an aqueduct, it seems unlikely that they were finished before Trajan’s visit to the city (circa 113 CE).Footnote ⁹⁶ On the Embolos, a Trajanic arch was built (Figure 4.1, no. 49) at the Triodos (114/115 CE) while the library of Celsus (110–120 CE), was overseen by Ti. Cl. Aristio (Figure 4.1, no. 53 and Figure 4.6).Footnote ⁹⁷ The theatre also had spatial limitations. Renovations during Domitian’s reign transformed the stage building, adding seating wedges at the upper level of the theatre.Footnote ⁹⁸ Further renovations, carried out by Flavius Montanus (circa 102–112 CE), added covered entranceways for the upper seating (Figure 4.1, no. 72).Footnote ⁹⁹

Figure 4.6

Statue base for the Teians. I.Eph 29. Kunsthistorisches Museums: Ephesos Museum (Vienna).

Photograph by the author

While one cannot speculate on the adjustments that were made for the procession (e.g. did work stop, were workers given the morning/day off so that drilling and hammering would not disturb the procession?), one can observe that, even in a modern world, building works are disruptive to urban thoroughfares. In Ephesus, where there was only one major route connecting the harbour to the State Agora, building works would have presented significant obstacles on the processional route. These projects illustrate the mutable nature of the urban landscape: another aspect of the ritual procession which could not be controlled.Footnote ¹⁰⁰

There were some practical considerations that no amount of planning or scripting could have controlled. A non-scripted route offered a level of flexibility for variants such as weather, building works, or the number of spectators and participants. The assumption that the procession was the same each time it was performed implies a similar audience, performers, atmosphere, and a consistent urban context for the ritual event. A closer examination of these variables, however, demonstrates that few of them were constant. Inconsistencies in performances do not negate the claims of the foundation, they contextualise these claims as attempts to regulate the outcome of an event that was difficult, if not impossible, to control in reality.

Reconstructing the practicalities of timing and the route of the procession highlights several potential issues for the ritual performers. Applying Chaniotis’s concept of ‘Murphy’s Law’ in ritual events illustrates the numerous ways that the perception of this event could be affected: what if there had been a raging symposium the night before and only a few hungover ephebes arrived to carry the statuettes? Poor weather could slow down a procession, if a carrier slipped and fell, a statuette could be damaged and the carrier may have struggled to find his place in line or knocked over others (in addition to being humiliated before his peers). Attempts to control the timing and execution of the event are acknowledgements that infelicity and less dignified behaviour were potential outcomes. Assessments of the performance raise questions about the audience in Salutaris’s procession particularly, who, what, and where an audience was meant to have been during the ritual performance.Footnote ¹⁰¹

The Emotional Context of a Procession: An Ephesian Tale

It can be difficult to place oneself in the mindset of the ancient viewer. Assessing the emotional context and experience for different members of the audience requires an understanding of the atmosphere around a procession and the positive or negative outcomes that could occur. This process is facilitated by the survival of a roughly contemporary (albeit fictional) account of a procession from the Artemision.Footnote ¹⁰³ Although it is not an account of Salutaris’s procession, An Ephesian Tale offers a unique insight into an Ephesian procession from the perspective of an ancient viewer. The author, who did not necessarily aim to provide an unbiased or accurate account of events, was likely to be influenced by personal motivations, such as self-promotion, that apply to benefactors in epigraphic evidence. He did not need the outcome of the procession to be successful, so he was free to record an event as it happened, without regard for what should have happened. While one should be cautious about extrapolating too much from a literary source, the account provides a unique portrayal of a procession at Ephesus from the perspective of a contemporary viewer.

Xenophon of Ephesus writes in a style that, like the text of Salutaris’s foundation, was formulaic and repetitive in its wording and structure, and was probably built upon earlier oral traditions.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ A ritual procession to the Artemision is described in An Ephesian Tale (Book 1 Chapter 2) as a theatrical performance with the dress, conduct, order and roles of participants carefully scripted.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ The account begins by setting the event in context: a local festival march from the city to Artemis’s shrine (a distance of seven stades) where local girls were ‘sumptuously adorned’ and the ephebes marched with Habrocomes as the leader (An Ephesian Tale 1.2.2).Footnote ¹⁰⁶ The audience is also described ‘for the spectacle there was a large crowd, both local and visiting.’Footnote ¹⁰⁷ The broad nature of the audience sets the scene in a bustling provincial capital city and makes the uniformity of their responses to Anthia and Habrocomes all the more striking.

The staging directions, like those set out in Salutaris’s procession, are evident throughout: the order of the procession ‘marching in a file’, the order of the objects, and ending with a further reference to the attire of the young women.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ Anthia and Habrocomes are both seen as leaders of their lines, and their physical descriptions are given the most detail, recording their ages and costumes.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ One can nearly imagine the gleam in Anthia’s eye, feel the light breeze flowing through her braided golden locks, shifting the purple tunic and soft fawnskin as she moved gracefully. The diverse audience responds uniformly to the procession, particularly to the arrival of Anthia and the Habrocomes: worshipping each of them ‘like gods’ in their spoken responses and their actions (praying and bowing).Footnote ¹¹⁰

Weiss’s reconstruction of the procession emphasises the role of ritual performance as a mode of ‘paying attention’.Footnote ¹¹¹ Xenophon’s account of the procession takes the reader one step forward, focusing on what the audience is paying attention to: a spectacle of beauty in the young and attractive performers. While foreigners and locals alike are bonded by a common experience of viewing beautiful youths, there is little in the account to convey a sense of religious sanctity for Artemis, who seems to be merely the framework for displaying beauty. The audience was not looking at the objects being carried or their relationship to the goddess and the urban structures in the city, they are not contemplating their civic roles, they are captivated by the experience of watching two beautiful people in a motion picture of a ritual event.

The spontaneous nature of the audience’s response to the performance is repeatedly reinforced by the language of ‘sight/seeing’ (ἰδόντες or ὀφθείης) ‘at the sight of’ and temporal words like ‘as’ (ὠς) and ‘now’ (ἤδη).Footnote ¹¹² This description of a procession captures the ‘in the moment’ experience, where an audience’s response does not last beyond their peripheral vision. This echoes Weiss’s observations regarding the relationship that ritual performances can create between two ‘nows’ – the now of everyday experiences, and the now of a ritual experience, which co-exist simultaneously.Footnote ¹¹³ While the focus of the crowd’s attention is clear, so is the limited nature of their attention span. ‘Now’ is only ‘now’ for a moment, and this is conveyed in transition between Anthia (and the young ladies) and Habrocomes (and the young men): ‘as lovely as the spectacle of the girls had been, they all forgot about them and turned their faces to him’ (2.9). In this context of transiency, focused on a spectacle of beauty, it is difficult to imagine an audience that was also contemplating the city’s Ionic past, forging connections between props and urban buildings.

The relationship between human and divine in the procession has modern social parallels, where star performers are received and, in the case of Habrocomes, can behave a bit like a diva.Footnote ¹¹⁴ The procession was meant to be a celebration in honour of Artemis but the focus of the attention is not on the goddess, her objects, or the Ephesian demos: the event emerges as a display of the two most beautiful people in the city, or at most, a celebration of beauty personified by these two individuals. The language, comparing both Anthia and Habrocomes to divine figures in their appearance and their reception by the audience illustrates how ritual processions could conflate the roles of divine and mortal characters, making one each seem part of the other. Xenophon’s passing comment about the function of the religious procession as a social mixer (an opportunity for marriage) and spectacle for youths seems to be an accurate description of the event.Footnote ¹¹⁵ This observation reveals the different functions that a ritual procession could serve in society both as a religious act and as a form of entertainment with a practical purpose: a mixer for young people.Footnote ¹¹⁶

There are a few key points of commonality and difference between Salutaris’s procession and the one described in An Ephesian Tale. Both processions provide many directives for staging and the behaviour of the performers, placing young members of society at the forefront. While the route of both processions is set out (from the Artemision into the city), the route is not described in detail and specific urban structures are not recorded (apart from pausing points in Salutaris’s procession). The focus in both accounts is the performers, their appearance, and their actions. This is consistent with modern concepts of place and performance theory, where motion through ‘space’ is often juxtaposed with pauses at a significant ‘place’.Footnote ¹¹⁷ Both processions employ performers who are young members of society, though Salutaris’s foundation was only the ephebes. The audience is international and, despite differences, it responds almost uniformly to the spectacle. Commonalities between scripted and fictive rituals provide insights into how rituals were viewed and how they functioned as experiences, a point that is also noted in Steven Muir’s Chapter 5 in this volume.

While Rogers assumes that the inclusion of youths served a didactic purpose, Xenophon’s version of a procession makes no such implication. Indeed, it appears to be an event where a predominantly older audience worships youth, perhaps as an act of reminiscence or as an act of hope for the city’s future. This could be a point in reconciliation between the cognitive experience of rituals and positivist literary accounts. Almost invariably, the authors of ritual events and/or their sponsors are not youths. The choice of young people as performers in these processions, though didactic as a ‘rite of passage’ into society, provides a point of connection for the adult audience (both Ephesian and foreign). The procession of historic figures is borne by the next generation of citizens, who carry images of the past into the future. The inclusion and reverence for youth played an important social function in uniting the audience under a common experience, perhaps prompting a memory of youth. The continuity of the event is contrasted by changes over time to the urban context, the atmosphere and the audience, as ephebes grew into manhood. The procession is a celebration of continuity and change, of permanence (historical figures and events) and ephemeral elements (youth, beauty, and the attention span of the audience).

The limitations of this account in reference to Salutaris’s foundation are significant, and it would be dangerous to use this account closely as a guide. As a ritual event, Salutaris’s procession had several significant variations. Functionally, the procession recorded by Xenophon of Ephesus was the ‘main’ event, which ended at the Artemision with a few pauses along the way.Footnote ¹¹⁸ His audience is clearly the spectators at the side of a spectacular procession. Salutaris’s procession, a precursor to many different events (games, council meetings, performances), was inclined to more frequent changes in the audience, the atmosphere, and the performers with each performance. The location of the audience in Salutaris’s procession, often implied but seldom addressed directly, also merits further consideration.

The frequency of Salutaris’s procession may also have impacted the cognitive perception of the event. Weiss notes the role that frequency played in integrating Salutaris’s procession into the cadence of daily life at Ephesus.Footnote ¹¹⁹ The negative impacts of frequency on the act of ‘paying attention’, however, are not explored. The same principle that demonstrates how a surreal annual event made an audience ‘pay attention’ to a ritual procession, seems to suggest that everyday events commanded comparably less attention.Footnote ¹²⁰ The blending of Salutaris’s procession into the cadence of everyday life may have resulted in an event that was less novel for an audience and, therefore, more likely to be overlooked after repeated viewings.Footnote ¹²¹

Xenophon’s account may be an exaggeration of a performance as Salutaris’s foundation may make claims of control or a positive outcome that were not guaranteed. The crowd will respond to images as they arrive and forget them as they pass. There may be an intentional or even exaggerated irony in presenting a crowd for a religious procession that idolises beauty above all else, literally bowing down to it. This is not a reason, however, to dismiss the innate truth about the spontaneity and unpredictability of an audience’s response. Within a carefully scripted event, there are a number of variables. Some of these variables, such as emotions (love, lust, awe), cannot be prescribed or controlled, though they are undoubtedly key elements in the experience. For all the scripted elements of this procession, no one (neither the audience nor the participants) appears able to control their reactions.

Whether it is an account of a ritual procession at Ephesus or in a novel, Lucian’s account of Proteus’s suicide or Tacitus’s portrayal of a cheeky Calusidius, Roman authors clearly understood that an attempt to draw upon the emotions of a crowd was a double-edged sword.Footnote ¹²² It is in this emotional context that one should view Salutaris’s procession: as an event that had a script and a stage but may not have adhered to all these directives. An analysis of these sources as well as a contemporary description of the procession at Ephesus in the first/second century CE suggests that, depending on the immediate emotional context, the experience of the viewer could diverge significantly from the script of a ritual event. While it is impossible to judge how a person felt on a given day (e.g. the weather/mood in the city), accepting the ‘best case scenario’ outcomes implied in Salutaris’s foundation may be equally problematic.Footnote ¹²³

Juxtaposing Salutaris’s description of his procession with contemporary sources, such as literature (An Ephesian Tale) in a reconstruction of the ritual experience reveals several similar themes. From the use of repetitive ritual language in writing to the visual representation of divine and mortal relationships in art, Chaniotis’s observation about the role of religious festivals in communicating between spectators and agents comes to life in the reconstructed ‘experience’ of Salutaris’s ritual procession.

Considering possible differences in the emotional context, such as the type of event (e.g. a festival or assembly meeting), the ambience (e.g. a sunny or rainy day, warm or cold) and the urban context (e.g. the implications of numerous building projects), and the performers (e.g. were they well-behaved, happy, or hungover), acknowledges ways in which repetition did not always create consistency in a performance.

The Audience and the Ritual Performance: Putting People in Their Places

Despite Rogers’ claims that there was ‘no ritual action’ in Salutaris’s procession, Chaniotis’s survey of ritual performances and recent scholarship on the procession suggest that the placement of the statuettes on bases at the theatre was the primary ritual action in the procession.Footnote ¹²⁵ The theatre, which is the epicentre of the processional route, was the one major ‘stop’ in the ritual procession and could accommodate the largest audience. Although the location of the audience may reflect the focus of the ritual event, reconstructions of Salutaris’s procession pay remarkably little attention to the location of the audience.Footnote ¹²⁶ The foundation text and the statuette bases do not offer an explicit answer, but both emphasise the context of the theatre and the act of placing images on the bases.Footnote ¹²⁷ Salutaris’s addenda to the procession, which includes more performers (and two figurines) with specified dress and seating locations, supports this point.Footnote ¹²⁸

Script-based scholarship that focuses on the procession seems to suggest that there was an audience for the procession, presumably not the same people who were attending the precipitating event at the theatre.Footnote ¹²⁹ The assumption that an audience viewed both the procession (outside the theatre) and ritual performance (inside the theatre), while possible, is impractical and would have added more time and difficulty to the organisation of the procession.Footnote ¹³⁰ The most practical solution, which also offered the greatest visibility, would be for the procession to arrive after the general public had entered the theatre.Footnote ¹³¹ This timing would also minimise opportunities for theft or damage to the statuettes.Footnote ¹³² To see this event was to witness the juxtaposition between the inscribed record of the procession, the bases above the seating wedges, and the imagery of the statuettes, as the claims of the text were translated into a ritual act.

Upon entering the theatre, the statuettes were carried to their corresponding bases for a significant ritual pause, which may have played an important role in defining ‘place’ at the theatre.Footnote ¹³³ Ng recreates the pageantry of ‘twinkling’ statuettes as a key element in the event.Footnote ¹³⁴ These bases (Figure 4.6) placed along the balustrades above the first level of seating wedges, probably faced outwards, where they were most visible to those in front of them (the upper levels of seating).Footnote ¹³⁵ The bilingual bases, set up by Salutaris, are different from the foundation inscription in message and appearance. Set within the theatre, these monuments were directly associated with the ritual act, attesting to the success of the ritual event even when the statuettes were absent. The Greek and Latin texts carry Salutaris’s full name and cursus honorum (sequence of political offices), which is not provided in the foundation. The ritual performance brought the city’s patron deities into a performance as members of the audience and as physical markers to define specific places in the theatre.

The experience of viewing these bases, however, had limitations. The bases were only visible to those in the lower seating areas when they entered: once they passed the bases and stepped down towards their seats, they could only see inscriptions on the back of the bases, which often repeated the tribe’s name in large Greek letters (Figure 4.7).Footnote ¹³⁶ Averaging just over a meter in height (.6–.7 metres in width and .4 metres in depth), the writing on these bases fell largely below eye level (as opposed to the foundation text, which was at eye level). Their bilingual character also meant that repeated information may not have been as obviously repetitive. The most prominent and visible writing on these bases, closest to the shining statuettes, was a Latin text inscribed on the cornice in larger (circa 2.5–4 centimetres) letters recording the recipients of the dedication: Ephesian Diana and the name of the tribe/civic institution. Salutaris’s names were carved in large letters on the upper lines, though this space was sometimes slanted and/or in shadow, where it was more difficult to see. Letters decrease in size dramatically as the text continues, placing the majority of the Latin text in smaller letters (circa 2–1.5 centimetres) in lower (less visible) space, while the Greek text fell in the least visible space, inscribed in the smallest letters (circa 1.5–1 centimetre in height). On a practical level, the limited visibility of the text was not necessarily an issue: Ephesian citizens, who had ratified Salutaris’s foundation, probably knew who he was, as well as their designated seating areas.

Figure 4.7

Diagram of theatre at Ephesus with added arrows indicating possible base locations and the site of Salutaris’s foundation on the south parodos.

Photo from the Austrian Archaeological Institute, licensed by CC BY-SA 3.0

What was the purpose of this ritual action? Although the performance was, as Rogers suggests, an educational experience for the ephebes, this seems a somewhat elaborate event for the benefit of, at most, 250 people.Footnote ¹³⁷ The following discussions will consider what a broader audience might have drawn from this ritual performance. In the broadest possible terms, recent scholarship of theatre rituals and performances has demonstrated that pre-performance events played an important part in a ritual performance, setting the scene and the tone of the event and providing a sense of regularity, even if they were viewed as almost commercial-like events.Footnote ¹³⁸

Performance theory provides a framework for addressing different audiences and experiences: it separates individuals by their connection with a ritual into ‘integral’ (those required in the performance) and ‘non-integral’ (purely spectators). Integral audiences often had a semantic understanding of a ritual event and thus, they did not need to pay the same level of attention.Footnote ¹³⁹ An ‘integral’ audience at the theatre in Ephesus would be citizens from the prescribed seating locations for tribes and civic institutions. These individuals would be most able to recognise and appreciate the pairing of the statuettes and their role in portraying the city’s Ionic past. Although the ritual act served to reaffirm a citizen’s local affiliations and traditions as well as their physical allocations within the theatre, after many repeated performances, the sight of Salutaris’s procession may not have been a novelty or an event that was likely to draw one’s attention. This disengagement is also suggested by the location of the bases at the top of the seating wedges: in order to see the statuettes, these members of the audience would have to crane their necks behind their backs.Footnote ¹⁴⁰ On a practical level, this makes sense: citizens who regularly attended assemblies and performances knew the location of their seats and images relevant to their tribes/civic institutions.

Performing ephebes had more to gain in terms of learning their place and role in society but numerous repetitions were probably an education of diminishing returns; after a point (e.g. one or two processions) they would know also their place and role.

A further point of assumption in scholarship, for which there is little direct description, is where the statuettes faced on their bases. Some scholars have described the statuettes as looking out over the performance, but if this was the case, their backs would have faced the majority of the audience, preventing a visual juxtaposition between text and image on the bases.Footnote ¹⁴¹ On a practical level, one may expect the statuettes to face outward, like the writing on the bases, towards the majority of the audience. Their role in this context may have been both as members of the audience and as guarantors of the claims inscribed on the bases: the lower seating wedges belonged to Ephesian citizens.

A foreign ‘non-integral’ audience would predominantly be seated in the upper two seating areas at the theatre, where they could readily view Salutaris’s bases and shining silver statuettes. Whether Greek or Roman, this audience could recognise the opening of a ritual performance or the entrance of a procession, which had ritual parallels with Hellenistic and Roman performances.Footnote ¹⁴² Foreigners may not innately know their seat allocation, the figures representing the city’s Ionic Past or their place in Ephesian society.Footnote ¹⁴³ As a result, these individuals needed to pay closer attention to the ritual, taking cues from the figures or the information on the bases, helpfully inscribed in large and prominent Latin letters.Footnote ¹⁴⁴ As in a modern context, those who were dismayed with seating allocations (lower level ‘good seats’ were reserved for local citizens) may have considered poaching ‘better’ seats that lay vacant.

The prominent Latin text on the upper cornices of the bases recording Ephesian Diana and the name of the tribes/civic institutions refers both to the imagery of the statuettes and the physical space with which it was associated: a specific seating area.Footnote ¹⁴⁵ Like signs at glass shops in Venice or sites across Greece that read ‘do not touch’ (in English) this message may not have been intended for locals but for tourists, who may not know local rules or traditions. At Ephesus, this message was conveyed diplomatically by a Latin text and a ritual performance, sponsored by a Roman citizen. Rather than viewing this as a gauche or imperious statement from Salutaris, one could see it as a thoughtful gesture from a fellow Roman, carrying Roman and local authority. The message could be almost apotropaic: thinking of poaching a seat? Ephesian Artemis, the Roman Senate, and the Gerousia are watching …

The procession of divine statuettes, whilst having a clear significance for Ephesians, also had a discernible meaning for other cities in the Greek world as well as in Rome.

Latham’s recent study of the pompa circensis, and in particular, the pompa deorum, together with recent scholarship on processions in Pompeii, provide a clear Roman precedent for this type of processions as well as the possibility for ritual failures.Footnote ¹⁴⁶ Similarly, the use of prescribed seating in a public venue as a means of reinforcing social organisation, set out in the Lex Julia Theatralis, was an established practice in Rome. The act of inscribing seats is a testament to an Empire-wide phenomenon in which expanding audiences and changing social groups attended public events.Footnote ¹⁴⁷ The visual illustration of how and why the seating allocations had been made, through deities and mythological founders, was a performance that could be understood and appreciated by a broad audience.

A consideration of Salutaris’s ritual event as a cognitive experience provides a practical function for the performance: the ritual interaction between the performers and the statuettes is a place-making activity, which literally and figuratively ‘put people in their place’ through the medium of ritual. In addition to Rogers’s conclusions about the event as a didactic experience for the ephebes, Salutaris’s procession provided a ritual means of defining the identity of the divine images, the performers who carried them, and the audience who observed the ritual event at the theatre. Experiencing this ritual performance, members of the audience gained a better understanding of how and why their seats had been allocated. The inclusion of different groups and figures, like the experience of sitting together and observing an event, was designed to be inclusive rather than exclusive.

Applying ‘Murphy’s Law of Ritual Events’ to this procession has illustrated the number of ways in which a prescribed action in the text could have been humanised by its performers and the ancient audience. One should be careful, however, not to overstate the role of the ritual event. As the honorific crowning of benefactors during performances has been likened to a ‘commercial’, Salutaris’s procession, which included a gold crown for Salutaris, the ritual placing of statuettes on bases during assemblies and performances and festival days, could be seen as a pre-performance ‘commercial’, which served to advertise the beneficence of Salutaris and assure a proper seating allocation.Footnote ¹⁴⁸ As modern service announcements remind the audience to turn off phones or demonstrate a powerful sound system in cinemas, Salutaris’s pre-performance event was, like the inscription on the south parodos, a liminal event: a brief but functional precursor to the main performance.