Woman from Sandanski with huge donation to town

This is how the news would have looked like in the media, had this happened in the present. However, our story took place more than 1800 years ago. The donation is commemorated on a marble slab with an inscription in Ancient Greek, which was discovered near the present-day town of Sandanski. The message is just five sentences long but it poses a pleiad of questions. Some have answers. Others, as it often happens in archaeology, leave us making guesses and kindle our imagination. Have a look at the inscription:

To Good Fortune! Flaviana Philokrateia – in honour of her husband Julianus Alexander and of herself, in response to the numerous honours awarded to her by the mightiest city council and by the people – granted 10 000 Attic drachmas for anointing, so that, on account of the interest, all citizens, foreigners, and slaves could anoint themselves during the three days of the festival. And the remaining oils should be distributed, according to the decision of the mightiest council, by those who have undergone the ephebic training. The donation took place in the year 241 of the Augustan era [AD 209/210]. May you all be fortunate!

April was rainy in 1938, and the raindrops washed away the dirt from the slab. As he passed by the spot where now lies the entrance to the town of Sandanski, where the monument of Spartacus stands, eight-grader Dimitar Iliev saw the unusual piece of stone. Later, it was brought to the schoolyard where it caught the attention of famous Bulgarian scholar and expert in ancient languages, epigraphist Professor Dimitar Dechev. The marble slab was to become the first exhibit in the inventory of Sandanski’s Archaeological Museum.

Can we envisage the scale of Flaviana and Julianus’s generosity? Back in their day, the average wage of a labourer was a drachma per day. It was enough to buy a litre of wine and a kilo of meat. Or a pair of shoes. Today, the average day’s wage is about 40 euros. So, had Flaviana lived in the present, her donation would amount to the impressive 400 000 euros! But Flaviana wasn’t simply generous; she was a practical woman with a vision too. According to her will, the money was not to be spent all at once, it was to be used as a long-term fund. The capital of this fund would be invested and only the interest would be spent for charity. Back in Flaviana’s day, the annual percentage rate was about 8%, and according to Professor Dechev’s calculations it would provide enough funds to buy 2000 litres of anointment oils, enough for one anointment for 25 000 people! Things must’ve gotten oily!

But why anointment, of all things, you might ask? What is this obsession with cosmetics? Couldn't Flaviana have donated her money for the construction of a temple or some other public edifice? Well, in Antiquity it was unthinkable to go to the baths without one’s anointment oils. They were used as shampoo and lotion. They were used to massage the body, making the skin smooth and keeping it clean. For, as our socialist rulers of the not-so-distant past used to preach, a dirty body unsettles the soul.

Back to the distant past, the most eager visitors to the baths were the ephebes – young men aged between 18 and 20 years of age who did a two-year-long military training in preparation for their service as managers and defenders of the city. Ephebes were the hope and future of society back then. This civil training was usually carried out in the big Hellenistic and Roman centres. Therefore, Flaviana’s inscription is a revelation: in Antiquity, the town of Sandanski must have been an important urban centre. The ephebes were often sweaty and dirty because they trained daily, from dawn till dusk, dedicating their time to sports and gymnastics. Ancient city councils set aside a substantial portion of their budget to the delivery of anointment oils for the ephebe institution under their management. Flaviana Philokrateia’s donation was a relief for the city’s budget.

Another intriguing detail about the inscription is Flaviana’s decision to extend her gesture to the slaves too – an unusual demonstration of humanity. In Antiquity, charity funds were mainly meant for orphans, veterans and widows; slaves, however, were usually excluded, for they were considered property – much like furniture and kitchenware. Slaves didn’t have legal and civil rights. Flaviana, however, believed that all people come equal before the gods.

But who was this Flaviana Philokrateia anyways? It is amazing how much the name of a person can reveal to us! In the beginning of the 3^rd century AD, Roman citizenship was a privilege that not all members of the local communities could get. In accordance with the Greek tradition, local people in Sandanski were identified by their given name and their father’s name. Roman citizens used a family name that was shared by all the people in their extended family. Newly declared citizens of Rome would adopt the name of the emperor under whose rule they gained the status of citizens, as their family name, thus becoming members of his family, symbolically. Philokrateia’s Roman name, Flaviana, reveals that her family received their family name from the Flavian dynasty that ruled between 69 and 96 AD. So, Flaviana was a fourth-generation Roman citizen. A distinguished girl, no doubt! And her Greek name, Philokrateia, means ‘one that loves authority’. She must’ve been a dignified member of the local city aristocracy.

Both she and her husband were well respected, receiving ‘numerous honours’, as the inscription states. Her husband could’ve been a magistrate, holding an important official position. Sandanski was an important city built according to the Roman model: it had a city council and a parliament. In a letter, Emperor Antoninus Pius set the number of city counsellors at 80 and decreed that every counsellor should pay 500 Attic drachms to the city treasury. So, if we do the math, Philokrateia’s donation equals the fees of 20 members of the city council!

Her husband might have been a wealthy producer and trader of anointment oils, wine or olive oil. In the 3^rd century AD, the Roman Empire was in a political and economic crisis, suffering from barbarian raids, inflation, and economic decline. The area around Sandanski, however, was relatively stable, as it lay far from the troublesome northern borders of the Empire and had a developed local economy. Back then, the hot springs attracted visitors from near and far, same as they do today. Tradesmen, priests, masseurs and craftsmen followed. The area was good for growing wheat, grapes and fruits. People kept sheep and goats on the slopes of the surrounding mountains, and wool was one of the main commodities for fabric production and trading. The area was a main connection point between the inner bounds of the Balkans and the Aegean, chiefly through the nearby port of Neapolis (present-day Kavala), so trade was thriving.

Flaviana’s donation was made on the occasion of a celebration, most probably in honour of medicine deities Asclepius and Hygieia whose power manifested itself in the hot springs in Sandanski. The inscription was located outside the city walls, on a spot that was well-suited for holding a fair. According to Professor Dechev, the slab was probably attached to the wall of a temple or another building associated with the medicine deities. From another inscription found in the area, we learn that the priests of the imperial cult held several days of gladiator fights and hunting games. The celebration that prompted Flaviana’s donation could be associated with this cult to the Roman emperors. Since the dawn of time, the most lavish celebrations have always been reserved for leaders.

Such inscriptions often seem boring in museums because they lack the background story. And we’ve just seen how many things we can assume from a mere five-sentence inscription! Each word brings valuable historic, cultural and purely human information. Was Flaviana Philokrateia beautiful? Did she like to keep her hair tied up in a bun, or loose? She must’ve lived in a spacious villa with mosaics on its floors and nice frescoes on its walls. Did she have children? Imagine them laughing and playing tag around the fountain in the courtyard. We don’t know any of that for certain. What we do know is that she was a noble, kind, clever, just woman. She cared about education. And she wanted to live in a tidy, well-kept city. Eighteen centuries later the inscription in her honour is a reminder that the true value of one’s life is not measured in gold but in their love and care for their fellow humans. May you all be fortunate!

Author:  Ela Ruseva (Α Blonde in the Museum)
Translation in English: Alexander "Sancho" Marinov