10
Towards an Archaeology of Household Relationships in Roman Egypt

Anna Lucille Boozer

Baruch College, City University of New York, NYC

Introduction

Roman Egypt serves as a prime locale for interdisciplinary studies of population histories due to the high preservation of written sources and physical houses. The written sources include census data, legal and inheritance documents, and well-documented written histories through which we can trace diachronic developments (Scheidel 2001: xxiii). In addition to these textual sources, we have physical remains of houses, which have been excavated for over 100 years in different regions across Egypt. Despite the obvious advantages of pursuing holistic research upon population histories in Roman Egypt, the archaeology has not been exploited for its rich potential to explore the material remains of houses in tandem with these written sources.

The rich material remains from Roman Egypt contribute a different perspective on daily life than the documentary sources, allowing for a multivalent perspective on household composition and extended family relationships. Although archaeological data can serve as a valuable resource for contemporary debates in demographic studies, it is important to retain an element of caution when drawing upon architectural and material remains. There is a vast interpretive leap from architectural space to interpretations of household composition and we must remain mindful of this gap when drawing interpretations from physical evidence. The present work explores a dialogue between the documentary and archaeological evidence of extended household relationships in order to determine the realities of daily life in Roman Egypt as well as the parameters of what archaeological data can reveal about household composition.

The primary objective of this chapter is to devise a methodology for archaeologically exploring household and intra-site relationships in Roman Egypt. An archaeological methodology will enable us to interpret extant Romano-Egyptian house data alongside emerging archaeological data from ongoing excavations. Case studies from existing household data will point towards future lines of research upon this topic. To this end, in this chapter I present a theoretical background, a methodology, and then three case studies followed by a discussion of the evidence as well as suggestions for future lines of research upon this topic.

The three case studies derive from two different regions in Roman Egypt, the Fayum and the Dakhleh Oasis (Figure 10.1). These two regions furnish contrasting material evidence of extended household networks, which helps us to devise an archaeological approach to household relationships. First, I draw upon the large corpus of domestic data from the Fayum in order to detect large trends in the built domestic environment. Although the Fayum provides us with a great number of excavated houses to explore, we only have very basic chronological and typological data from these sites because of the way they were analyzed and published (Boak et al. 1935; Boak and Peterson 1931; Husselman 1979; van Minnen 1994). In order to provide a close analysis of individual households and their potential compositions, I draw upon contextual domestic data produced by recent excavations in the Dakhleh Oasis (Boozer 2007; Hope 2002; Hope and Whitehouse 2006; Boozer 2015b). Because there are fewer excavated houses to examine from Dakhleh, so regional trends are still emergent. The combination of data from both regions provides us with refined and broad data sets that inform our understanding of extended family relationships in Roman Egypt more generally. By drawing upon emerging research and extant data on Romano-Egyptian houses, this contribution serves both as an interpretation of what has already been produced as well as a suggestion for future lines of research on this topic.

Map of the Roman Egypt locating the different oases between the eastern and western deserts with legend for land above 500 m and 200 m and below sea level, roads, and national boundary. — **Figure 10.1** Map of Roman Egypt (M. Matthews).

Theoretical Background: Households and Houses

The introduction to this volume has already explored relevant terminology on households and families cross-culturally. In the present work, which focuses on material remains, the term “house” refers to an architectural unit, while the term “household” describes a basic unit of economic and social cooperation (Blanton 1994: 5; Wilk and Rathje 1982: 620). The two terms do not necessarily map on to the same physical structure. Looking to documentary sources from Roman Egypt more specifically, it is clear that the notion of family was complicated and by no means a self-evidence concept. Our understanding of the “typical” modern Western family is the exception rather than the rule for what constitutes family in Roman Egypt (Saller 1994: 74–101). For example, Roman Oxyrhynchus provides a wealth of documentary sources that provide several different meanings of the term family (Bagnall 2007: 184).

It is also clear that the compositions of households varied considerably from house to house. Bagnall and Lewis suggest that between nine and 11 people occupied the average house at any one time, although it is likely that the numbers of individuals who occupied these spaces varied considerably during the occupational history of structures. I argue for this variation on the basis that 25.3 per cent of households were multiple family households – in other words two brothers or sisters and their spouses, or a married couple with married children who remained in the parental home. These multiple family households tended to have 10.36 people in them within towns (Bagnall and Frier 1994: 57–64, especially 68). Van Minnen has argued that 4.5 people would share a dwelling with four to five rooms (van Minnen 1994: 235–6). For Philadelphia, the calculated number of people per house is nine (Bagnall and Frier 1994, 68–9). Mortality rates and birthrates were higher than in the present era and therefore there would be fluctuations in household size over time.

The link between families and the buildings themselves are no less complicated in Roman Egypt. Papyrological evidence suggests that families have little sense of long-term identification with any particular structure (Bagnall 2007: 185). Egyptians tended to divide their real property, including houses, among all of their children, male and female, which often lead to the fragmentation of properties (Pestman 1969). Due to these inheritance practices, it was possible to buy and sell fractions of houses (Pestman 1961, 1969). These fractions could be dealt with practically through the use of “virtual” fractions rather than real fractions of houses. The virtual fractioning of houses is impossible to track in the archaeological record. Scheidel argues that brother-sister marriage practices evinced in the Fayum documentary sources may have enabled families to join or reunite house fractions (Scheidel 1996: 9–51).

Turning to the physical evidence, we find considerable archaeological theory that can be tied to the built remains of Romano-Egyptian houses. An a priori assumption of the present work is that shared architectural traits will reflect and encourage a shared world-view, while divergent architectural traits may be emblematic of social differences (Bachelard 1994; Bourdieu 1966; Donley-Reid 1990; Hillier and Hanson 1984; Tringham 2000). Archaeologists have explored this assumption successfully in other regions through examining built space in relation to social units, permanent and temporary spatial divisions, and how artifact categories and decoration correlate to room usage (Allison 1992a, 1992b, 1999; Laurence 1994; Laurence and Wallace-Hadrill 1997; Meskell 2002; Nevett 2010).

A second theory underpins the present work. Previous archaeological research has indicated that shared activity spaces suggest shared social relationships (e.g., shared cooking spaces) (Brody 2011, especially 249). This assertion entails that individuals who worked closely with one another probably had closer social ties than individuals who worked autonomously. Social contact begets social contact.

This prior work on built spaces carries implications for how we explore the papyrological and archaeological data upon houses. For example, the archaeological record does not verify the physical division of houses. On the basis of the papyrology, Muhs suggests that Egyptians tried to avoid the creation of permanent physical divisions within houses (Muhs 2008: 188). This avoidance could have been accomplished through the “virtual” fractions of houses, mentioned above, or through multi-family occupancy.

Determining how one might detect the presence of multiple families within one house, or families reaching across houses, is an exceedingly difficult archaeological challenge. One means of accomplishing this task might be found through examining places where key household tasks took place. A second means of examining social organization is through looking at the use of public space and the relationships between houses.

First, food preparation, weaving, and animal husbandry, served as significant domestic activities and which may be readily identifiable archaeologically. Courtyards and cooking areas are often easily identifiable in site plans, even among poorly excavated sites. Despite high variability between size, location, and privacy, the presence of this space, and the ways in which households used courtyards, was consistent. Courtyard activities typically included food preparation, agricultural work, and animal husbandry. Food preparation activities included milling grain and cooking food, on both open fires and in closed ovens. Feeding troughs and shelters for animals were often in the same courtyard, but they could also be located in a separate one (Davoli 1998: 85).

From documentary sources it is clear that Romano-Egyptians considered exterior courtyards (an aule) to be a separate entity from the house itself. For example, a woman, Tasoucharion, lists her property for the census and describes a “house with a courtyard” (Rowlandson 1998:141–2). Likewise, the courtyard of Hawara House E is described in the following terms; “the courtyard forms the western side of the house” P.Ashm. I 7 (187/186 BCE) (discussed in Uytterhoeven 2010: 323). Documentary records also make it clear that this space could be sold separately from the house and that individuals could own more than one aule (on aule sold separately from the house, see P.Oxy. III 505; XIV 1696; 1697. On individuals owning more than one aule, see P.Mich. VI 428). Physically, the peripheral location of aule found at sites such as Karanis suggest that these spaces could be exchanged between neighboring parties quite easily (Alston 2002: 59). Moreover, it was not uncommon for houses to co-opt alleyways and parts of streets for use as an aule.

On the other hand, internal courtyards (an aithrion) formed an integral, central part of the house and mainly occurred in urban houses (Alston 2002: 209, 59–61; Husson 1983: 29–36; Uytterhoeven 2010: 324). No documentary sources mention the sale of aithria separate from that of a house, which suggests that the aithrion was an integral feature of the house (Alston 2002: 60). Documentary sources make it clear that the aithrion could contain domestic equipment and that they were used in a similar manner as the aule (P.Oxy. XII 1488). Houses could have both an aule and an aithrion, but sometimes aithria house descriptions do not mention an aule. This lack may indicate that the presence of an aithrion meant that an aule was unnecessary. Documentary evidence of aithria is unevenly distributed between cities and villages. Most aithria houses come from urban contexts, while most of the village attestations of aithria houses come from Tebtunis in the Fayum (Alston 2002: 59).

Second, houses closely clustered together and that exchanged public and private space between suggests close social and economic domestic organization. The potential to construct an aule out of an alleyway or of an aule to exchange hands also could signify neighborhood connections. Pre-planned settlements and regimented public spaces suggest that fewer socioeconomic negotiations took place between houses.

In summation, I will explore key attributes of functional domestic areas within and outside of houses in order to suggest social ties between the individuals who occupied physical houses. The cooking and courtyard spaces are key to this process since they are easily identifiable on site plans, even from sites for which we lack nuanced archaeological data. In this analysis, aithria (internal courtyards) suggest greater autonomy than aule (external courtyards). Additional attributes that point towards shared spaces between physical houses will also be explored as these shared spaces most likely suggest close household relationships.

Methodology

I formed two lists of variables to explore in my analyses. These variables build upon the theoretical models described above as well as recent archaeological approaches to single house and intra-site analyses. Most particularly, Gadot’s study of Iron Age I sites in Israel has provided a model for my own approach (2011: 159–61). These variables aim to access the social connections within and between households that were embedded in architectural layout and style.

The first grouping of variables examines the single house in order to gain a sense of social dynamics within the house. The attributes that I explore are ones that convey information about economic stratum, cultural influences, closeness of interaction between household members, and so on.

The first grouping of variables includes the following:

Table 10.1 Group 1: The single house.

Building techniques and materials	Building materials employed for floors, walls, ceilings, and staircases. Differences found in building materials may signify social rank and economic stratification (Crocker (1985) conducts such an analysis for New Kingdom Amarna houses). Decoration may entail differential status or use of rooms (Allison 1992b).
Building size	External measurements of the buildings, the net floor area, and the exterior courtyard area (when present). These measurements will be examined in order to see whether differences in building sizes indicate differences in wealth or family size (Crocker 1985).
Orientation	The orientation of building entrances. Is there a pattern in the orientation of entrances? Is there a direction that is systematically avoided? Orientation has both functional and symbolic meaning (Daniel 2010; Faust 2001). For example, wind and sun are often accounted for in doorway placements. Patterns in household arrangement may help in recognizing symbolic choices that groups share.
Courtyard location	The courtyard's location, whether exterior or interior. Is the courtyard in the center of the house or behind the house? Is the courtyard privately or publicly accessible? Courtyard location may denote the degree of household autonomy, degree of social control, and the development of the household as a socioeconomic unit (Byrd 1994; Hillier and Hanson 1984).
Space syntax	The number of rooms within the building, the divisions of spaces, the courtyard location, and the connections between rooms exemplify conceptions of what a house should look like, how it should function, and to whom it should be accessible (Hillier and Hanson 1984).

The second grouping of variables relates to intra-site analysis and the relationships between houses. In particular, this second grouping explores economic and status markers, similarities and differences between houses, and the potential for shared work spaces.

The second grouping of variables includes the following attributes:

Table 10.2 Group 2: Intra-site analysis and relations between houses.

Location in the settlement	The location of the house within the site. Is the building located in the center of the site or its periphery? Is the house on high or low ground in relation to other buildings at the site? Is the house on a major roadway?
Relations with other buildings	The physical relationship of the house to neighboring houses and structures. Do buildings share a courtyard, alleyway or party walls? Do they form part of a pre-planned insula or did the area grow organically?
Uniformity in architectural layout	Is there clear uniformity of plan between houses? Or is there disparity in how the buildings are laid out?

Case Studies

For the present study, I analyze four complete houses from Soknopaiou Nesos, in the Fayum, which were excavated in the early 1930s. I then examine four houses from Kellis (Ismant el-Kharab), which were excavated in the 1980s and 1990s using modern techniques. Finally, I consider two houses from Trimithis (Amheida) in the Dakhleh Oasis, which were excavated in the 2000s. I present each of these case studies and then compare the results from these case studies as well as make some observations on the viability of the archaeological approach suggested in this chapter.

Case study 1: Soknopaiou Nesos, the Fayum

Most prior research on Romano-Egyptian domestic contexts has taken place in Egypt’s Fayum region (Figure 10.1). This region became a nexus for domestic studies due to the papyrological rescue missions led by Grenfell and Hunt in the early 1900s, which exposed numerous, well-preserved houses in the region (Grenfell et al. 1900). Because the primary objective of these missions was to salvage papyri, contextual and architectural data are lacking from their publications. In addition to Grenfell and Hunt’s rescue missions, other excavations took place in the Fayum, although the robustness of this data varies considerably.

The University of Michigan excavated two of the most famous Fayum sites in the early twentieth century: Karanis (Kom Aushim) (1924–1934) and Soknopaiou Nesos (Dimé) (1931–1932). The material from these sites is invaluable for the present study since both sites produced a wealth of material data on domestic architecture and artifacts.

Although Karanis has become the type-site of Romano-Egyptian domestic architecture, there are two major caveats regarding this material that prohibit its employment in the present chapter (for additional critiques, see Davoli 1998, 73–116, Boozer 2015a). First, the Karanis houses have not been fully published. General reports on the stratigraphy, topography, and architecture were published in the 1930s, but these lacked full analyses of each structure and did not attempt to interpret the findings (Boak and Peterson 1931; Boak 1933). A subsequent report attempted to fill in the gaps left by these prior publications (Husselman 1979), but it also did not provide contextual explorations of the material and the accompanying maps and illustrations are often difficult to connect to particular structures and moments in time. We still do not have a full publication on the architectural layout of most of the Karanis houses. Moreover, only the largest and best-preserved houses were singled out for publication, which makes it difficult to discern the range of house types available at Karanis (Husselman 1979: 67–73). This practice obscures the most common and representative houses occupied by typical households at Karanis.

Second, the publications that do exist for Karanis houses analyzed material categories rather than contexts (e.g., individual houses). Over 20 years ago, Peter van Minnen, a papyrologist, urged archaeologists to explore Karanis domestic material by context rather than by material category (1994). Unfortunately, this type of analysis has not been accomplished for more than a tiny portion of this site yet, and it is impossible to connect artifacts to the houses from which they came except by consultation of the excavation records in the Kelsey Museum. It is not possible to determine which types of objects, texts, and architectural features co-occurred with one another and what the distribution of house types, objects and texts looked like across the site.

The University of Michigan also excavated houses at Soknopaiou Nesos and, although the results of this mission were not fully published, the single published excavation report enables us to connect houses to the plans and at least some of the material mentioned in the report. Davoli provides an overview of this excavation as well as other archaeological research at Soknopaiou Nesos (Davoli 1998: 39–71). Only the coins, papyri, and specific architectural elements received attention in the single published excavation report (Boak et al. 1935). I will explore this site as the case study for the Fayum despite this drawback because the house and site plans are easier to interpret than those from Karanis.

There are well-understood hesitations in using archaeological data produced in the 1930s. The understanding of stratigraphy was basic and archaeologists gave little consideration to the find locus of material. Excavations were conducted at a rapid pace with relatively little recording occurring beyond architectural features and the corresponding finds. The reports produced on the archaeology, while the standard of the day, demonstrate simplistic understandings of site stratigraphy and lack detailed contextual information. Moreover, the houses were analyzed and published by category rather than as domestic units, thereby severing the finds from the houses from which they came.

For these reasons, the present chapter will primarily examine the houses by means of site plan, even though a holistic analysis is desirable and would considerably improve our ability to interpret space. These caveats aside, the opportunity for a macro-level approach to household archaeology at Soknopaiou Nesos, using the available site plans, is promising. Likewise, I hope that eventually it will be possible to extend this type of research to a more in-depth re-analysis of this and other previously excavated sites in the Fayum.

A group of four houses from the East Side of the Late First Level was chosen from Soknopaiou Nesos for this chapter as part of a pilot study for several reasons (Figure 10.2). First, this group contains what is considered to be the most common house type of its stratum. Second there is little evidence of later construction on top of, or disturbance to, this insula. Third, the published plans make it easy to locate this insula within the settlement. Fourth, these houses, which the excavators date to the mid-third century CE, derive from the latest phase of houses at Soknopaiou Nesos and are closer in date to the other houses explored in the present study.

Figure 10.2 General Plan of Soknopaiou Nesos in Boak, A. E. R., et al. (1935). Soknopaiou Nesos: The University of Michigan excavations at Dimê in 1931–32. Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press. (Kelsey Museum of Archaeology).

This housing group is located on the eastern portion of the site, which is divided by a well-preserved dromos. The insula is composed of four houses with linear and clustered layouts. Three of the four buildings are attached by common walls and are surrounded by streets to the north, west and south and an unexcavated open area to the east. In total, this insula is made up of ten ground rooms, counting the exterior courtyard spaces. It should be kept in mind that we are missing the upper floors of these houses and that, originally, there would have been additional rooms.

The East Side Late First Level contained four houses (II 201; II 202; II 203; II 204) (Figure 10.3). These houses formed an irregular block or insula bounded on the north by a street and a narrow alley, on the east by a street or an open space, on the west by another street, and on the south by a passageway and the walls of an adjacent block of houses. To the north there was an additional domestic block beyond the street. House II 202 appears to have been built into this street, which narrowed the 3–4 meter wide street into an alleyway (Boak et al. 1935: 5).

Figure 10.3 Plan III, Ground Plan, Late First Level, East Side in Boak, A.E.R. et al (1935). Soknopaiou Nesos: The University of Michigan Excavations at Dimê in 1931–32. (Kelsey Museum of Archaeology).

The street to the east of the insula had two approximately semicircular, unevenly constructed stone walls built into it (Boak et al. 1935: 6). These informal walls may have been wind and sand breaks to keep sand from encroaching upon the houses within the insula (Boozer 2016).

The short passageway (II 200) between House II 201 and the buildings to the south was between 2 and 3 meters wide. It had once served as an access route to the courtyard to the west (II 204 K), but the doorway had been bricked up. A narrow street (II 205) provided access between House II 201 and Street II 210, partially dividing the insula into eastern and western portions (Boak et al. 1935: 6).

A large house (II 201) occupied the eastern half of the insula. Only the walls of the ground floors were preserved up to the window sills, while the upper floors appear to have disappeared completely. Erosion or sebakh digging probably caused this damage. The northeast room, H, was converted into a food preparation area, with a storage bin and baking ovens. In most of the rooms, the floor level had risen over time, which resulted in covering the air vents (oculi) of the underground chambers. The ceilings of these rooms had previously been broken through and the rooms themselves partly filled with rubbish and abandoned (Boak et al. 1935: 6).

The western half of the insula contained three smaller houses: II 202, II 203, II 204. All three houses fronted on to Street II 220, but the entrance of House II 204 was at a much lower level than those of the other houses, which were approached by flights of stone steps leading up from the street. Only the ground floors were preserved for all of these houses (Boak et al. 1935: 5–7, Plan III).

House II 201. House 201 differed from the other three houses in this insula, and indeed the other Michigan excavated houses at Soknopaiou Nesos and Karanis (Boak et al. 1935: 10–11). The house was roughly square in plan view, measuring 18.5 × 17 meters. The layout of House II 201 was different from the others in the insula in that it had a more clustered layout of the rooms, meaning that central rooms provided access to adjoining rooms. The entrance led to an anteroom (room A), which led to room D and E as well as the staircase leading both upstairs and downstairs to a basement. Room A and all of the doorways between room A and the rooms it communicated with were paneled with strips and blocks of well-cut wood. Room E provided access to three additional rooms in the structure and served as a key access point within the house (Boak et al. 1935: 11–12, Plan III, fig. 10). A staircase provided access to upper levels.

The outer walls of the ground floor were approximately 2 meters wide and were built of extremely large and well-made gray bricks. The exterior face bricks measured 29 × 14 × 11 cm and the interior face bricks measured 30 × 15 × 11 cm. The bricks on the interior and exterior faces were laid in alternate courses of headers and stretchers, while the interior courses were laid as headers only. This method was not consistent and the wall width diminished with the wall height. The outer faces of the house walls were decorated with rows of wooden blocks set transversely into the walls at regular intervals. The squared ends of these blocks were flush with the surface of the walls. The southeast corner of the house was protected by a wooden beam set vertically at the juncture of the two walls. It is possible that this decorative design was carried out along the full original wall height and was present along all four corners. These wooden blocks strengthened the walls, potentially absorbed excess moisture from the bricks, and also provided decoration, which is not found in the neighboring houses (Boak et al. 1935: 11, Plan XVI, fig. 8. See also, Kemp 2000 on mud brick architecture.). The clustered plan, wood beams, and elaborate architectural treatment suggest a generally more expensive structure, in terms of size, design, and material used.

House II 202. This house had a clear linear progression of rooms. A staircase provided access to upper storeys. Doorways were blocked due to the rise of ground levels outside (e.g., II 202 F), and the abandonment of some underground rooms (e.g., rooms below II 202 F), suggesting that these houses had continued in use as the ground level rose (Boak et al. 1935: 6–7). House II 202 lacked a courtyard, which is noteworthy because it entails that the house may have been dependent upon another house or a shared cooking area (not evident in this plan) between houses for cooking. In addition to this difference in layout, House II 202 had other distinctive features, such as stone pavements in room D, which was also found in House II 203 (Boak et al. 1935, 6). House II 202 had a wall painting on the east wall of room D of a horse and rider, which was most likely a representation of the rider god Heron (Boak et al. 1935: 9, fig. 4). The University of Michigan excavated a similar depiction of Heron at Karanis (Boak and Peterson 1931: 34, fig. 49).

House II 203. House II 203 had a stone pavement in room A and was entered by means of a flight of steps leading from the street into room A (Boak et al. 1935: 6, Plan III). There were three ground story rooms, a passageway, and a staircase. This staircase would have provided access to additional rooms. A courtyard space was located in the alleyway behind House II 2003 (K), which suggests that public space was co-opted by this house. The progression between rooms was linear.

House II 204. The entrance of House II 204 was lower than those of other two houses along this side of the insula (Boak et al. 1935: 6). On the basis of these stairs, this house may be older than the others surrounding it. Alternatively, it may have been compensating for an unleveled site surface. There were two ground story rooms, two passageways, and a staircase. Passageway D provided access to an L-shaped courtyard space (II 204 K) that was built into what had originally been a street, which serves as another example of co-opting public space within this insula. The progression between rooms indicates a linear rather than a clustered plan.

House II 204 had a painting on the north wall of the narrow passage D. The scene appears to depict the owner of the house and his wife making an offering to the god Soknopaios, who was surrounded by symbolic paraphernalia connected to his worship. If this interpretation is correct, this house may contain crucial evidence for a domestic cult of the crocodile god (Boak et al. 1935: 9–10, fig. 6).

Table 10.3 Soknopaiou Nesos Late First Level East Side (abandoned in mid-third century CE).

Building techniques and materials	Mud brick Stone pavements and steps in two houses (II 202, II 203) Religious wall paintings in two houses (II 202, II 204) House II 201 had more substantial walls than the other houses House II 201 had select wooden decorated paneling
Building size	House II 201: 17 × 18.5 House II 201 (internal courtyard H): 5 × 6.5 m House II 202: 7 × 6.5 m House II 202 (courtyard F): 7 × 6 m House II 203: 7 × 7 meters House II 203 (courtyard K): 5.5 × 2.25 m House II 204: 8 × 6 m House II 204 (courtyard K): 7 × 3.5 – 5.5 m
Orientation	Entrances found on west
Courtyard location	External, behind house: 1 External, built into alleys: 2 Internal: 1
Space syntax	Linear: 3 Cluster: 1
Location in the settlement	East of paved dromos leading towards the temple to the north
Relations with other buildings	Houses 202–3 share party walls Insula built with other insulae surrounding Abandoned area to east
Uniformity in architectural layout	Three eastern houses fairly uniform in layout and dimensions. Western house different in layout and dimensions (significantly larger and with cluster plan and internal kitchen)

Case study 2: Kellis, Dakhleh Oasis

The Dakhleh Oasis Project (DOP) began research in the Dakhleh Oasis with a survey in the 1970s, which revealed a considerable Roman presence in this oasis, which is located deep within Egypt’s Western Desert (Figure 10.4) (Boozer 2013; Churcher and Mills 1995). Excavations began at the site of Kellis (Isman el-Kharab) in the 1980s under the direction of Colin Hope and continue to the present day. The final publication of the results of these excavations has yet to be produced, but numerous preliminary reports have been published throughout the excavation process. A modern standard of stratigraphic excavation was employed at this site, which promises to contribute enormously to our understanding of Romano-Egyptian houses when final publication takes place.

Figure 10.4 Map of the Great Oasis in the Roman Period. (M. Matthews).

In the 1980s, the DOP excavations at Kellis unearthed a domestic insula in Area A of Kellis, which lies on the edge of the high, south-central part of Kellis, where a series of easily definable structures set within enclosures could be seen on the surface (Figure 10.5). There are three house units within Area A (Houses 1–3) and a structure (Structure 4) north of these, which is of uncertain function. Area A is located immediately south of Area B. Area B contains opulent domestic quarters and an East Church Complex as well as the Main Temple are located nearby (Hope 1988: 165).

Figure 10.5 General Plan of Kellis (Ismant el-Kharab). (C. A. Hope).

The Area A structures are separated by streets on the south and west from other houses (Figure 10.6). Doors provide access to Houses 1 and 2 only to the south, while House 3 has a south entrance and a second entrance on the north, which provides access to an apparently vacant enclosure. House 3 is the largest of the three houses. House 3 appears to have been constructed first, followed by Structure 4 and then Houses 1 and 2 simultaneously. In their final state, Houses 1 and 2 formed two interlocking L-shaped units. It is likely that the entire development was constructed within a short time span (Hope 1988: 167).

Figure 10.6 Plan of Houses 1–3 and Structure 4 (labeled as North Building 3 on this plan) from Area A at Kellis (Ismant el-Kharab). (C. A. Hope).

House 1. House 1 has a clustered plan with a north-south corridor providing access to all other rooms except for one and the entrance. Room 1 appears to have been the primary cooking area within the house. This room appears to have been added after the initial occupation of the structure. The courtyard is located at the rear of the property and seems to have been encroached upon when additional rooms were added to House 1 (Hope 1988: 167).

House 2. House 2 contains eight rooms; to its north and east is an open courtyard, access to which is gained by a door in its south wall and not directly from the house. A lightly constructed cooking area, room 9, was a later addition to the house and which encroaches upon the street. All rooms, except for rooms 2, 3, and 9, were barrel vaulted (Hope 1988: 169).

House 3. An entrance corridor provides access to a central room (room 6) off of which eight other rooms open. This corridor also provides access to a courtyard containing animal mangers, storage, and cooking facilities (Hope 1995: 142; Hope et al. 1989: 1). Unlike the other houses (Houses 1 and 2), the entrance into House 3 was down a short flight of mud-brick steps. The stairs were a late addition built to compensate for rising surface levels outside of the house (Hope et al. 1989: 3). A deed was found among the goods recovered from this house. The deed describes the House 2 neighbor transferring ownership of part of the house complex to one of the House 3 residents, who also appears to be a partial owner of House 2 (Hope 1995: 143). This deed would suggest close ties between these two houses and, potentially, a familial link between the two structures (see above). It may also indicate an endeavor to recombine the virtual house fractions that could occur during inheritance (see above).

Structure 4. The exact function of Structure 4 is uncertain, although it appears to have been of a domestic nature. It is entered from the street to the north, but once opened to the street to the west (later blocked). North-facing doorways were preferred in houses, so this change in doorway location may betray a potential change in status (Daniel 2010). Alternatively, the change could have been motivated by accessibility reasons. Room 4 served as a food preparation area. The structure was reused as a dump.

Table 10.4 Kellis: Late third-fourth century CE.

Building techniques and materials	House 1: mud brick, vaults, flat roofs. House 2: mud brick, vaults, flat roofs. House 3: mud brick, vaults, open inner courtyard, possible flat roof. Structure 4: mud brick, possible courtyard, flat roofs
Building size	House 1: 10 × 16 m (at greatest extents) House 1 courtyard: 16 × 10 m (at greatest extent) House 2: 10 × 15 m (at greatest extents) House 2 courtyard: 22 × 15 m (at greatest extents) House 3: 13 × 14 m with 7.5 × 4 m additional rooms to north. House 3 courtyard: 7.5 × 8.5 m Structure 4: 23 × 8 m (at greatest extent)
Orientation	3 houses open to south House 3 has an additional northern entrance Structure 4 entered from the north (initially west)
Courtyard location	House 1: rear House 2: L-shape around house. House 3: rear Structure 4: unclear, central room (?)
Space syntax	Linear: 2 Cluster: 2 (House 1 has a clustered plan with linear elements)
Location in the settlement	South-central part of settlement Located close to high status houses and temples
Relations with other buildings	House 3 built first Structure 4 built second Houses 1 and 2 built contemporaneously Houses share party walls Insula built with other domestic areas surrounding it
Uniformity in architectural layout	Uniform features Layout not uniform between houses

Case study 3: Trimithis, Dakhleh Oasis

Our third case study is also located in the Dakhleh Oasis, in the extreme western portion of this oasis (Figure 10.4). Excavation at Trimithis (Amheida) began in 2004, under the direction of Roger Bagnall. To date, there are only two fully excavated houses from this site. Both houses were explored using modern archaeological techniques. The excavation report for one house (B2) has been published (Boozer 2015b). There are preliminary publications on the other house (B1) (e.g. Boozer 2010) and a final excavation report is planned.

Unlike the houses in the prior case studies, these houses are located in separate insulae at Trimithis, which creates interpretive obstacles for the present chapter (Figure 10.7). This obstacle can be somewhat mitigated by the exceptional preservation of walls at Trimithis, which have been mapped, and reveal the site plan clearly. Further excavation continues in the vicinity of both houses discussed here, which will add considerable detail to the suggestions put forth below about intra-site organization. These excavations also will complicate or verify assumptions made based upon the extant site plan, which was based upon surface mapping.

Figure 10.7 General Plan of Trimithis (Amheida). (Amheida Project).

A second difficulty with the Trimithis houses is that they derive from different periods of the city’s history. House B2 dates somewhat earlier than House B1, although they may have overlapped in their occupational histories for a brief period in the early fourth century CE (for dating House B1 on the basis of the ostraka, see Bagnall and Ruffini 2012). As diachronic change in Romano-Egyptian house forms is little understood, it is not possible to mitigate against this comparative drawback.

B1. House B1 is located in a central area of Trimithis and is surrounded by structures that appear to have complicated room layouts. The surface material in this area of the site is of fine quality, suggesting elite occupation. This area of the site appears to have had a long period of occupation as B1 was built on top of a bathhouse, which likely dates to the late second through third century CE (Boozer 2014, Davoli, Forthcoming, for preliminary reports, see www.amheida.org).

B1 has a clustered plan of access and two entrances (R7, R12) into the house (Figure 10.8). One entrance opens to the east and is located within close proximity to two rooms used for cooking. One entrance (R7) provided access to most of these functional areas of B1. The other entrance (R12) opens to the west and was located near a decoratively painted room. A painted, domed room (R1) provided access to additional painted rooms. A staircase provided access to the roof, which had a flat area built on top of the vaulted, domed, and flat roofs below. This roof could have been used as an additional, open living space.

Figure 10.8 House B1 from Area 2 at Trimithis (Amheida). (Amheida Project).

The B1 house was somewhat modified over time with blockages created between rooms and some rooms being converted from decorative rooms to more functional rooms, potentially in response to changed economic circumstances or what may have been damage to the walls created by an earthquake (Boozer 2010, 2011).

B2. House B2 is located in the northeastern area of Trimithis along a major thoroughfare leading into the city. The entire neighborhood appears to have been laid out in a single episode of construction. Deep sondages in the area have suggested that there was no occupation on this area of the site prior to the construction of this neighborhood. House B2 itself seems to have been occupied from the mid-late third century until the early to early-mid-fourth century CE, on the basis of the architecture, ceramics, and ostraka recovered during excavation.

A single entrance (R9), which opens onto the road to the north, provided access to House B2 (Figure 10.9). Once again, north-facing entrances were preferred, so this entrance may suggest status distinctions (Daniel 2010). B2 has a clustered plan of organization, which focused upon a large open or very lightly roofed central room (R7). A staircase (R8) provided access between this room and the roof over the barrel vaulted and flat roof(s) of House B2, which would have been used as additional living and work space.

Figure 10.9 House B2 from Area 1 at Trimithis (Amheida). (N. Warner).

A large courtyard (C2) is located behind the house and could only be entered by means of a house north of C2 and east of B2. The City University of New York Excavations at Amheida are currently excavating C2 and plan to excavate the house east of B2. B2 contains provisioning for cooking in two rooms of the house and does not seem to have had its own exterior courtyard. The bread oven in one room was added shortly after the house was occupied. It is possible that occupants originally used communal bread ovens before they moved their cooking area indoors (Boozer 2012, 2015b). This alteration may indicate that access to public spaces changed during the occupation of House B2, which is a practice attested in the papyri (see above). This conjecture cannot be verified archaeologically at this time.

Table 10.5 Trimithis: Houses B1 and B2 (mid-late third to late fourth century CE).

Building techniques and materials	Mud brick Vaulted roofs Flat roofs B1: baked brick elements B1: wall paintings B2: colored plaster (no figurative paintings)
Building size	B1: 15 × 15 m B2: 11 × 11 m
Orientation	B1: two entrances to east and west B2: one entrance to north
Courtyard location	B1 exterior courtyard to north; cooking facilities in house B2 no exterior courtyard; cooking facilities in house
Space syntax	Cluster: 2
Location in the settlement	B1: central area of site, elaborate architecture, fine material goods B2: peripheral area of site, simple architecture, functional goods
Relations with other buildings	B1: shares party walls with identical house to south B1: part of what appears to be a planned insula B2: shares party walls with house to west B2: part of what appears to be a planned insula
Uniformity in architectural layout	Similar features and layout B1 is more elaborate than B2

Discussion

The preceding three case studies provide several notable points of comparison between them (See Table 10.6 for the below discussion). Soknopaiou Nesos (Houses II 202–204) shows the most contrast between the houses in the insula explored, as three of the four houses are similar and one of the four (House II 201) is significantly larger and more decoratively elaborate.

Kellis has two out of four similar houses in its insula. One house (Structure 4) is smaller than the others and another house (House 3) is larger and more complex than the others. The likeness between the similar houses at Kellis is less substantial than those at Soknopaiou Nesos and the contrast in houses is also less significant than at Soknopaiou Nesos.

The Trimithis houses are somewhat problematic for this comparison between sites since they are physically and temporally separated in a way not demonstrated in the other two case studies. Even so, it is notable that the architectural forms between the two houses are similar, although one house (B1) is larger and significantly more opulent than the other house (B2).

Table 10.6 Comparisons across sites: Individual houses.

Size	Soknopaiou Nesos: 3 houses similar; 1 significantly larger. Kellis: 2 similar; 1 smaller; 1 larger. Trimithis: 1 larger; 1 smaller.
Complexity and Syntax	Soknopaiou Nesos: 3 houses similar and linear; 1 more complex and clustered. Kellis: 4 subtle variations; 1 with two entrances. Trimithis: Both clustered; 1 with two entrances.
Uniformity in architectural layout	Soknopaiou Nesos: Uniform with 1 exception. Kellis: Variable. Trimithis: Uniform, although status distinctions evident.

The intra-site relationships are notable when these three sites are compared (Table 10.7). The Soknopaiou Nesos insula had strong autonomous house units and there was also clear social ranking. The inbuilding evident in the streets and alleys suggests that there were strong peer group links between households and that civic control over the area was insignificant.

At Kellis, we also find strong autonomous house units and a more subtle sense of social ranking with House 3 appearing to be somewhat higher in rank and Structure 4 lower in rank. The inbuilding and spatial negotiations between houses suggest strong links between households and that such spatial negotiations were not controlled by the city councilors.

Like the other two sites, the Trimithis houses are strongly autonomous. The uniformity in layout suggests shared social organization. The lack of inbuilding in the street in the vicinity of B2 suggests strong civic control in this area of the site, whereas there appears to have been less civic control regarding inbuilding in the B1 vicinity. This disparity in civic control may be related to the temporal gap between these two houses, or to the location of the houses within the city. For example, it may have been important to keep the street in front of B2 clear because it was a wide street on the edge of the city and could have been important for the movement of goods into and out of the city.

Table 10.7 Comparisons across sites: Intra-site analysis.

Soknopaiou Nesos	Strong autonomous units of houses with clear social ranking. Likely links across peer groups, due to uniformity. Likely peer group links due to inbuilding.
Kellis	Autonomous units of houses. Suggestive social ranking. Inbuilding suggests strong links between houses and less civic control.
Trimithis	Strong autonomous units of houses. Uniformity suggests shared social organization. Lack of inbuilding for B2 suggests strong civic control and possibly fewer community links. Inbuilding in B1 vicinity suggests lack of civic control and some community links.

Conclusions

The results of these three case studies are preliminary, but they provide insight into three different components of domestic organization in Roman Egypt: (1) individual house type variables, (2) types of insulae, and (3) patterns of socioeconomic organization. This analysis demonstrates that we gain substantially more comparative information about households and the relationships between them when we examine both the single house and its surroundings.

First, we can identify three variables that occured within the houses examined in the above case studies:

cooking inside/outside
cluster/linear plan
one/two entrances.

These variables have significant implications for household structures. For example, the relocation of food preparation spaces may indicate shifts in family practices since women (and presumably children) would have spent considerably more time indoors when food preparations moved inside the house. The location of cooking spaces inside would have drawn individual households more closely together. External cooking spaces, particularly communal ones, would have encouraged links between households. Likewise, a clustered house plan integrates household dynamics significantly more than does a linear plan. Household members would pass through central cluster points frequently throughout the day, thereby fostering more interaction with one another. The presence of multiple entrances may point towards a bifurcation in access, potentially suggesting a higher status and a lower status access point. For example, House B1 at Trimithis has one entrance in close proximity to lavishly decorated rooms, while the other is in close proximity to food preparation areas.

Second, this preliminary study has revealed two types of insulae:

tightly clustered insulae with well-defined perimeters/strongly clustered insulae with poorly defined perimeters;
insulae with similarly sized houses/insulae with one larger house.

Tightly clustered insulae with clearly defined perimeters may have had stronger social cohesion between structures than insulae that were less clearly defined. The living conditions in insulae with similarly sized houses would have been comparable, which would have promoted strong peer ties. The occupants of the larger house would have had different living conditions from their neighbors. Vertical ties between the occupants of these houses would have been less secure than the horizontal ties among the occupants of small houses. Soknopaiou Nesos demonstrates the clearest possibility of close peer groups among three of the houses examined. The fourth house (House II 201) may have had weak vertical ties with the other houses. The Kellis houses are fairly comparable in size, which suggests strong peer ties. It is more difficult to assess the Amheida houses, but both B1 and B2 seem to fit within the spectrum of houses from their respective neighborhoods.

Third, by taking all of the analyses into consideration, three patterns of social and economic organization emerge:

Organic communities with accessible or co-opted public spaces: This pattern indicates the presence of a strongly interrelated and interdependent social group. Clusters of autonomous units of houses with various designs and co-options of space indicate the presence of close relationships between households or extended family relationships as parts of houses and streets are exchanged between neighbors due to inheritance, marriage, or sales. The relationship between the Kellis houses examined appear to fit this model. The three similar houses at Soknopaiou Nesos (Houses II 202–204) also demonstrate organic growth and the co-option of public space.
Planned communities with co-opted street space: These forms may indicate small nuclear families with similar socioeconomic status within a close-knit community. The negotiation of space would suggest patterns of social and economic negotiation between houses. The neighborhood around Amheida House B1 appears to fit this model.
Pre-planned settlements with regimented organizations of space: This pattern suggests that the negotiations between houses occurred less frequently than is found in the other two forms. Rather, central authorities may have controlled processes such as inbuilding in streets and so forth. Households that did not buy or sell physical parts of houses may have viewed themselves more as discrete units than as part of a holistic neighborhood. Amheida House B2 may fit this model.

This preliminary analysis suggests that households within a pre-planned settlement and with private courtyards and regimented uses of space would have had fewer links with neighboring households than households with communal courtyards and/or co-opted space. When viewed from the perspective of architectural layout, it seems there would be little to connect pre-planned settlements with regimented organizations of space. On the other hand, houses that build into one another as well as civic space would have much more to connect them socially, physically, and economically.

At this stage it is not possible to determine if these physical patterns reflect social realities. This preliminary study suggests that there is enormous future potential for further research upon this topic and that future work would contribute to our growing understanding of households in Roman Egypt. There are two clear avenues for future research. First, it would be insightful to conduct large-scale analyses of Soknopaiou Nesos and Karanis, due to the significant quantities of readily available site plans for these two sites. The results of such a study would enable a broad understanding of patterns across each of these sites.

Second, it would be useful to take a keyhole approach to this topic and employ a broad suite of data from sites with a modern standard of excavation, such as Trimithis or Kellis. Material culture can be used to show links as well as boundaries between ethnic groups as well as other social categories. Material culture plays a particularly important role in manifesting boundaries at times when groups want to make their social boundaries more clear (Frankel 2003; Hodder 1977,1985; Lightfoot and Martinez 1995; Lightfoot et al. 1998). Ongoing research at Trimithis suggests that this approach is worthwhile and we hope to be able to reconstruct household dynamics with greater conviction when more houses are unearthed.

Although it is unfortunate that it is not possible to add material culture studies to explorations of Soknopaiou Nesos and Karanis at this time, all is not lost. Both sites are being re-examined currently and we have every reason to believe that we will be able to incorporate contextual analyses into future analyses of households. In the meantime, the present study has provided one way forward for employing this antiquated data for current research questions as well as demonstrating how past data and current data can be combined usefully.

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