An unassuming brick exterior belies the luminous early medieval mosaics within.

The Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425 C.E., Ravenna, Italy. Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker

Neptune and Amphitrite, before 79 C.E., mosaic, garden of the House of Neptune and Amphitrite, Herculaneum (photo: Francisco Anzola, CC BY 2.0)

The destruction of the ancient Roman city of Pompeii in 79 C.E. has long fascinated authors, artists, and visitors since its rediscovery in the 18th century. Still, it was just one of the many cities destroyed or damaged by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

Map of Italy showing the Bay of Naples, with the location of Naples, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Mount Vesuvius (underlying map © Google)

The city of Herculaneum was Pompeii’s smaller, more affluent neighbor. It had an estimated population of 4,000 to 5,000 and was destroyed by a flow of volcanic mud. The remains of the city contribute to our knowledge of ancient Roman life, art, and architecture around the Bay of Naples.

Seated Mercury, Roman bronze copy of an ancient Greek bronze, 105 cm high (Museo Nazionale, Naples; photo: Marie-Lan Nguyen, CC BY 2.5)

The city was also home to the famed residence known as the Villa dei Papyri, in which droves of carbonized papyri of ancient texts were discovered along with an unparalleled collection of bronze and marble statues, like the Seated Mercury.

As in Pompeii, when walking down the streets of Herculaneum, one could peer into houses whose doors were open during the day. Wall paintings, gardens, sculptures, and, in some instances, intricate mosaics caught the eye of an inquisitive passerby. While the grand houses and luxurious villas were the obvious candidates for outstanding decoration, modest houses also had remarkable interior design. The House of Neptune and Amphitrite (V, 6-7) is one such residence; it is named for its exceptional polychrome mosaics, including one of the best preserved wall mosaics from the Roman Empire.

Fratelli Alinari, doorway to the House of Neptune and Amphitrite and wine/food shop counter at right during excavation, 1935 (Institute of Archaeology, University of Oxford)

Plan of the House of Neptune and Amphitrite (author after Clark, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans, figure 153, p. 251)

The small house (227 sq. meters) had one entrance (see floor plan, no. 7). [1] As was typical for Roman homes, the rooms facing the street were used for retail business. Adjoining the house was a caupona (see floor plan, no. 6) with a well-preserved counter, a rack of wine amphoras, and a list of outstanding wine deliveries with dates. The dolia near its entrance contained fava beans and chick peas, which were popular foodstuffs. [2] The shop would have provided the owner with rental income.

The house had been renovated and redecorated to the highest levels after the major earthquake of 62 C.E. that anticipated Vesuvius’ eruption seventeen years later. There was a well-appointed second story. On the ground floor, the house had an atrium with an impluvium (a shallow pool), as was standard for many Italian houses.

View of the atrium with the mosaic of Neptune and Amphitrite visible through the tablinum, before 79 C.E., House of Neptune and Amphitrite, Herculaneum (photo: Richard Mortel, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The house also had five reception rooms, all decorated in third and fourth Pompeian styles, demonstrating that the owners were up-to-date with the most fashionable tastes of the day. The atrium had at least two marble panels that were painted in a red monochrome technique in the style of a 5th-century B.C.E. Greek painting. [3] The tablinum (a central room often used for reception and as an office) has a mosaic floor with frescoed walls; the three service rooms were undecorated. [4] Some of the details of the wall paintings are hard to see today because of erosion following the excavation of the house in the 1930s. On axis with the house’s entrance and visible through the tablinum was a rear court with an outdoor triclinium (dining room) featuring a spectacular mosaic of Neptune and Amphitrite on the rear (eastern) wall that was visible from the street.

Neptune and Amphitrite, before 79 C.E., mosaic, garden of the House of Neptune and Amphitrite, Herculaneum (photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0)

Mosaic of Neptune and Amphitrite

Neptune, the god of the sea, is recognizable by his trident, his wild beard, flowing locks, and blue mantle, while Amphitrite (in Latin as Salacia), semi-nude, appears as the queen of the sea, adorned with a diadem, necklace, arm band, and earrings. Neptune fell in love with Amphitrite, but she initially fled him. With the help of Delphinus, the dolphin, Neptune found her. Delphinus was rewarded by being turned into a constellation, and Amphitrite became the goddess of the sea. Even though the artist was working with small stones, he still artfully conveyed Neptune’s musculature and Amphitrite’s shapely curves. In both cases, the drapery responds to the shape of their bodies. He stands in a contrapposto pose, suggesting a sculpture of a god or athlete might have been the source for his pose, while she leans against a pillar, indicating that the inspiration for this mosaic was a statue—perhaps, one of Venus. [5]

The gods stand beneath a fan-like light blue sail, under which are scrolls decorated with a red wave pattern, and elaborate vegetal scrolls—composed of red, green, Egyptian blue, and white tesserae, which appear to support the lintel and conch. The mosaic is framed by a border of shells and pumice, reinforcing the mosaic’s maritime theme. The mosaic was inserted into a background of garden paintings, which date to an earlier decorative phase.

In front of the mosaic was a marble-covered triclinium. The floor between the three dining couches was paved with white marble, and there was a single elegant column, decorated with ivy leaves. It was pierced to hold a fountain pipe, and it may have looked similar to the basin depicted in the garden painting on the rear (eastern) wall. [6]

Nymphaeum at left, before 79 C.E., mosaic, garden of the House of Neptune and Amphitrite, Herculaneum (photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0)

Nymphaeum

Complementing this mosaic was an elaborate nymphaeum on the northern wall. Composed of a central curved niche and flanked by two rectangular niches, the nymphaeum is decorated with mosaics. Tesserae of Egyptian blue, other colored glass, and stone appear alongside pumice and shells, which allude to the lavish grottos and artificial caves in the the sprawling countryside villas of elite Romans. The central niche is framed by stylized vine scrolls that emerge out of kantharoi in the panels between the niches. This vegetation visually links the nymphaeum to the space’s garden paintings. The register above the niches of the nymphaeum is decorated with elaborate mosaics of hunting scenes. Against a dark blue background, forged from Egyptian blue tesserae, hounds chase deer that dart and spring away from the green earth. Hunt scenes were well known from the wall paintings of many Campanian houses. The inclusion of a hunting scene also alluded to the leisure pursuits of wealthy Romans. Above the hunt scene, garlands, hanging heavy with fruit and each supporting a peacock, framed the central niche.

Peacock, stag harassed by a dog, Nymphaeum, before 79 C.E., mosaic, garden of the House of Neptune and Amphitrite, Herculaneum (photo: Amphipolis, CC BY-SA 2.0)

A pattern of alternating red and blue hearts, bordered by yellow tesserae, framed the taller central, apsed niche, which is encrusted with shells; two smaller rectangular niches flanked it. Presumably, there was a fountain sculpture, but no pipe or sculpture was found. [7] In each side niche, there was a small column of green and white cipollino marble on a small base of red marble, which may have been a lamp holder. [8] An ornamental border of scrolls and griffins framed the nymphaeum. Above the hunting scene was another register of decoration with three theater masks: a tragic one in the center and a comic mask on both sides. Above this on the wall was a mask of Silenus, a Roman god of woods who was closely associated with wine, revelry, and Bacchus.

Empress Theodora mosaic, San Vitale, begun c. late 520s, consecrated 547, mosaics date between 546 and 556. The church was restored 1540s, 1900, 1904, and in the 1930s, Ravenna (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

All the glitter that is gold: ceiling and vault mosaics

Mosaics were an important form of wall decoration in the Roman world. Wall and ceiling mosaics originated separately from floor mosaics; these mosaics employ different materials and fabrication methods; they have a visual vocabulary and goals. By virtue of not being on a floor, ceiling and wall mosaics did not need to be as durable. Glass tesserae expanded the color palette available to mosaicists. A museiarius or musivarius fabricated a ceiling or wall mosaic, whereas a tessellarius made a floor mosaic. [9] Wall and ceiling mosaics became very popular in the late Republic and early Empire; the earliest surviving ceiling mosaic—depicting the blinding of Polyphemus by Odysseus—comes from the Domus Transitoria, the imperial residence that preceded the emperor Nero’s Domus Aurea in Rome (constructed after the fire of 64 C.E.). The Romans were the first to place mosaics on ceilings and walls, thereby creating a use for mosaics that would endure far after Rome was an imperial capital. [10] The mosaics that adorned the domes and apses of Byzantine churches, like San Vitale in Ravenna and Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, have origins in the ceiling mosaics of ancient Rome.

Grotto and ruins of villa, 1st century B.C.E., Sperlonga (photo: Elizabeth Macaulay, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Mosaics in artificial grottos and caves

Just as mosaics were popular two-dimensional art forms, mosaics were also used in the creation of artificial grottos and caves. In such spaces, landscape, architecture, and art were exploited to create immersive dining experiences. Pumice, volcanic rock, and various types of shells were used to adorn these spaces.

Blinding of Polyphemus reconstruction with casts and an original sculpture (the wineskin-bearer) at right, before 26 C.E. (Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Sperlonga; photo: Elizabeth Macaulay, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The most famous of these artificial caves is at Sperlonga, the site of a 1st century B.C.E. villa that eventually passed into the possession of the Emperor Tiberius (who was almost died when its roof partially collapsed). [11] It is famous for its modified cave, pool, and artificial island, as well as an elaborate sculptural program which included monumental sculptures featuring scenes from the Odyssey, including the blinding of Polyphemus by Odysseus and Scylla attacking Odysseus’s ship.

The House of Neptune and Amphitrite was not grand, but it had artistic pretensions. Its owners were well versed in the most fashionable tastes in interior decor of their day. They remodeled their single outdoor space to include an expensive mosaic with a mythological theme and a nymphaeum with a hunting scene that was encrusted with shells and pumice. Together, they were a small-scale allusion to the grand grottos and caves seen in elite villas and the mosaics that decorated imperial residences. In this way, the open-air court with its triclinium, nymphaeum, mosaics, and garden paintings transformed this otherwise modest house into a veritable miniature villa, where the inhabitants could dine like their dignified betters under the shadow of Vesuvius.

A rare example of Carolingian architecture, Lorsch Abbey conveys Charlemagne’s political and religious power.

Lorsch Abbey, Germany, founded in 764. Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker

Portrait of Couple (Terentius Neo and wife), 1st century C.E. (Pompeii), fresco, 58 x 53 cm (National Archaeological Museum, Naples; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Everyone likes to look good for their close-up. Well, most everyone. This Pompeian couple, Terentius Neo and his wife, seem to have been more interested in having their portraitist capture a true likeness rather than airbrushing away any unflattering features.

Head of a Roman Patrician from Otricoli, c. 75–50 B.C.E., marble (Palazzo Torlonia, Rome; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Ancient Roman portraiture

In ancient Rome, individualized portraits were a staple of elite self-fashioning dating back to the Republican period when ancestor portraits created from wax or terracotta were commonly kept in the atrium of aristocratic households. While these ancestral images (imagines) no longer survive, echoes of this tradition can be seen in the numerous hyperrealistic busts we do have. Painted portraits—like this and another of a young woman from Pompeii—may have also been common but very few survive from domestic spaces. Though compelling in their visual impact, such images seem to have been less popular for interior decoration than images of mythological figures, still life, or gardens. Nonetheless, these two frescos provide a view into the social history of everyday people and their self-presentation, one that was notably different from the marble sculptures of aristocratic Romans. While no elite Roman man needed to display his literacy or erudition, these female figures foreground such accomplishments for all to see.

Tondo portrait of a Young Woman, 1st century C.E. (Pompeii), fresco (National Archaeological Museum, Naples; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Young man with a scroll, 55–79 C.E. (Pompeii), 40 x 40 cm (National Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Portrait of a young woman

The remarkable tondo portrait of the young woman from Pompeii shows a figure of learning and of wealth. Holding a pen (stylus) to her lips with her right hand, the figure balances a writing tablet (diptych) in her left. A delicate golden hairnet rests on her head while tight curls, replete with blonde highlights, frame her face. The hairstyle, fashionable in the 60s and 70s C.E., helps date the portrait to the period just before the destruction of Pompeii. Unlike the portrait of Terentius Neo and his wife, the image conveys a generically conventional beauty, an effect that has led some scholars to believe the image to be a representation of the famous Greek poetess Sappho holding her writing implements. A pendant (i.e. complimentary) image on the other part of the wall also featured a tondo portrait, in this case a male figure holding a scroll (rotulus). This figure appears to be a specific individual, suggesting that the companion female portrait is also a specific individual (and not a generic image of female beauty).

Terentius Neo (detail), Portrait of Couple (Terentius Neo and wife), 1st century C.E. (Pompeii), fresco, 58 x 53 cm (National Archaeological Museum, Naples; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Representing Terentius Neo and his wife

The portrait of Terentius Neo and his wife comes from a house within close proximity to a bakery complex in Pompeii, leading scholars to speculate that he may himself have been a baker though we can’t really know for certain (his identification as Terentius Neo is based on an inscription found nearby). Whoever the couple was, they were very deliberate in placing their portrait in the reception space of their house so everyone would see it when entering or passing by. And they look back, engaging the viewer with direct gazes. Like the tondi portraits of the young woman and man, this double portrait served as a public display of their literacy and wealth. Inside a square panel, three-quarter length busts form a composition whose symmetry and intimacy indicate we are looking at a married couple. Terentius holds a rotulus beneath his chin and appears to be someone that could be easily recognized on the street—he has wrinkles on his forehead, a slight beard, a wispy mustache, arched eyebrows, olive skin, and an expression of mild curiosity. He wears a white toga which signals that he is a Roman citizen (either a freeborn man or an formerly enslaved person who gained his freedom).

The wife of Terentius Neo (detail), Portrait of Couple (Terentius Neo and wife), 1st century C.E. (Pompeii), fresco, 58 x 53 cm (National Archaeological Museum, Naples; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Though we don’t know the name of his wife, she appears no less important in this image—she is positioned just in front of him and is of equal height. Like her female counterpart in the tondo, she also raises a stylus to her chin with her right hand and holds a diptych in her left. Her features are notably distinct—tiny curls along her forehead frame her pale, oval face and neck while her hair is parted in the middle with a band holding it in place. (Archaeological evidence dates the portrait to the years just before the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 C.E. so her hairstyle, which was in fashion some twenty years earlier, was a bit out of step with the latest trends among elite women.) Her eyes and nose are large, while her mouth is somewhat small. Perhaps most notably, she has thick eyebrows that meet, and like her spouse, an ear that juts out somewhat. Her eyes are rather lively, animated by two small white dots of paint the artist has placed in the pupils to suggest reflected light. She is dressed in a richly colored, crimson tunic and mantle and wears pearl and gold earrings.

Amor and Psyche, c. 60–79 C.E. (Pompeii), fresco (National Archaeological Museum, Naples)

The individual specificity of the couple leaves no doubt we are looking at portraits. Both are in the “veristic” style, a realistic style popular in Roman art since the Republic that is often described as a “truthful” representation of an individual (though in reality, the veristic portrait busts were more “truthy” than “truthful” since they were often defined by a sort of exaggerated hyperrealism). The couple, it seems, wanted to be recognizable to all who encountered their portrait. And they wanted to display their marital bond to viewers not only through their close proximity and parallel gestures but also through the deliberate placement of a smaller pendant painting directly above their portrait. This mythological scene showed Cupid and Psyche (the son of Venus and the most lovely of human women) locked in a passionate embrace.

Perhaps what mattered most to the couple, however, was their literacy. We have no way of knowing whether this was real, aspirational, or maybe, simply, functional—that is, they could read as much as they needed to conduct their business. In the case of women outside the elite classes, reading and writing in any capacity was extremely limited, and so a portrait foregrounding that ability was indeed an expression of social achievement.

Does the abstraction of form and faraway look in this colossal portrait hint at the growth of Christianity in Rome?

Colossus of Constantine, c. 312–15 C.E. (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome)

Colossus of Constantine, c. 312–15 C.E. (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome)

Arranged across the courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori (the building that houses one part of the Capitoline Museums) in Rome is an array of monumental body parts. This isn’t a crime scene, but the display context for one of the most important sculptures of the ancient Roman world—the Colossus of Constantine.

Reconstruction of Zeus at Olympia, frontispiece for A.-C. Quatremère de Quincy, Le Jupiter Olympien… (Royal Academy of Arts, London)

The Colossus of Constantine is, well, colossal. The head alone is over eight feet (approx. 2.5 meters) tall and the statue  would have measured over 40 feet (12 meters) in height. In its original form, the statue represented the Emperor Constantine seated on an imperial throne, with his right arm raised and pointing towards the sky.

The format for this statue originated with the 4th century B.C.E. chryselephantine statue of Zeus at Olympia, by the famed Greek Classical sculptor Phidias. Later, it was widely used as a statue formula for representations of Jupiter in the Roman world (as on the coin below). In terms of today’s material culture, the pose is very similar to the seated statue of Abraham Lincoln in Washington, D.C. though Constantine measured twenty feet taller than Lincoln!

Left: Jupiter on a Gold Aureus of Licinius, 308–24 C.E. (Roman) (Lawrence University & Buerger Coin Collection, Appleton); right: Daniel Chester French, Abraham Lincoln, 1920 (Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C.)

The extant remains of the Colossus of Constantine are white marble fragments of the limbs and head of the once-complete statue. The head, itself, is a wonder to behold. The monolithic block presents the viewer with a larger-than-life image of the emperor Constantine (also known as Constantine I, and Constantine the Great), who ruled the Roman Empire from 306–337 C.E. His visage is flawless with smooth cheeks and large deep-set eyes. The pupils of the eyes are carved in a distinctive heart-shaped form which was characteristic of Roman portraits in the Late Empire.

Head, Colossus of Constantine, c. 312–15 C.E. (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome)

On his temples, we see square dowel holes that, along with the row of drill marks along the front of his coiffure, suggest the presence of a now-lost laurel wreath, or perhaps a bronze crown. The head is not carved in on all sides. Though freestanding, the head of the Colossus of Constantine was left uncarved at the back. In fact, the back of the head is so flat it suggests the statue was originally situated up against a wall.

The remaining limbs—two feet, a kneecap, a bicep, and a chest fragment—make up the rest of the assemblage. The arm is rendered in shocking naturalism. The musculature of the arm is pronounced—with veins bulging beneath the surface of the skin. The feet are also very naturalistic in detail, with the nail beds on the toes delicately carved and molded. Furthermore, the left foot is carved so as to appear as if the heel is rising off the ground. This indicates that the original sculpture, though seated, had a dynamism and a sense of movement.

Arm, Colossus of Constantine, c. 312–15 C.E. (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome)

There are two sculpted right hands associated with this statue. Many scholars suggest that a second hand was crafted later in order to create a vehicle for Christian iconography and replace an earlier hand that held a purely imperial symbol.

Even in his present state of disassembly, his vacant stare passes above and beyond the head of the viewer, underscoring his power. He cannot be troubled by earthly concerns. The portrait features of Constantine are idealized to the point of abstraction, with not a hair in his cap-like head of hair out of place.

Right hand, Colossus of Constantine, c. 312–15 C.E. (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome)

The right hand of Constantine originally held a bronze object that would likely have been offset at an angle, as suggested by the remaining dowel holes. The form of this object is often debated, was it a scepter? A cross? Some combination of the two? Additionally, the index finger of the right hand is pointing skyward, creating a link between the ruler himself, and the realm beyond. This connection is important. In earlier statues of Zeus or Jupiter this gesture would have referenced the location of Mount Olympus. But here, the meaning is more obscure. Constantine was famously the first Christian Roman emperor, does this gesture perhaps reference the heavenly realm of Christianity?

Head of a Roman Patrician from Otricoli (Republican period), c. 75–50 B.C.E., marble (Palazzo Torlonia, Rome; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

What’s in a face?

Since the Republican period, portraits were a major element of Roman material culture. For the Romans, a portrait statue expressed status, preserved memory, and celebrated the glory of the individual. Portrait sculptures took the form of either busts or full-length statues and were made from a variety of materials, including marble, terracotta, and bronze. Beginning in the Roman Republican period, portraits became an important political tool. Images of powerful men, and even women, were included in collections displayed in both family homes and public settings.

Augustus of Primaporta, 13 B.C.E. to 15 C.E. (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

When Augustus, the first emperor of Rome, came to power in 27 B.C.E., the imperial portrait statue underwent a powerful upgrade. With a production now overseen largely by the state, images of the emperor and his family became abundant. Adorning fora, freestanding arches, theaters, and palaces—portrait statues were used to advertise imperial power and disseminate a recognizable image of the ruler and his entourage throughout the far reaches of the empire. Each succeeding emperor, with the exception of a relative few, undertook considerable effort to produce an extensive material record of his reign, and his likeness.

Constantine was no exception. His material record is significant, with many of his most famous public works appropriated from those of earlier emperors. The Arch of Constantine, which famously employs spolia from earlier imperial monuments, integrates portraits of Constantine into traditional images through the reworking of preexisting portraits. This tendency of Constantine to rework pre-existing material culture to his own ends is typical of Late Imperial Roman art, and provides evidence that suggests the Colossus of Constantine had a previous identity.

The image of Constantine presented here shows a ruler who is larger-than-life. His commanding physical presence dwarfs the viewer and asserts authority, while the colossal scale suggests a link to the gods. Though recognizable as a distinct image of Constantine, elements of the visage are intentionally modeled to recall those of earlier emperors. Quoting the past was a way for later emperors to legitimize their rule in the present. Here, Constantine’s beardless face recalls that of Augustus and the Julio-Claudians, while his hair is modeled on that of the 2nd century C.E. emperor Trajan.

Rome Reborn, reconstruction of the Basilica of Nova (or Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine), Rome (Flyover Zone Productions)

Perfect provenance

The Colossus of Constantine was originally located in the west apse of the Basilica Nova (also known as the Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine) just down the hill along the Sacra Via. This was not a temple but rather a secular structure, used mainly for judicial proceedings. The basilica format, soon to be adopted as a preferred format for early Christian church architecture, was a longitudinal building in which a wide central aisle, known as a nave, flanked by smaller side aisles. Situating the statue at the curved end of the nave, known as an apse, presented Constantine as an imposing and god-like head of state.

We know exactly where the statue was located because the fragments were found in situ in the 15th century. During the Renaissance, men from all over Europe enthusiastically flocked to Rome to dig up the city in search of ancient remains. It is estimated that more damage was done to the ruins of Rome during the Renaissance than any other era. Wealthy men sought out fragments of the ancient empire to collect, study, and display in their grand houses and private collections. The head and marble limbs of the Colossus were uncovered in the ancient basilica in 1486 and moved to the Palazzo dei Conservatori courtyard on top of the Capitoline Hill by the artist Michelangelo. This is where they have remained for centuries.

Colossus of Constantine, c. 312–15 C.E. (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome)

The Colossus of Constantine is notable because it belongs exclusively to the material history of the city of Rome. The Basilica Nova was the known display context for the statue, and that is where it was found in the late 15th century. Its subsequent excavation, conservation, and display took place on the Capitoline Hill. Since its 4th-century inception, the Colossus of Constantine has always had a home in the eternal city. Unlike other notable works excavated during the early modern period, the Colossus of Constantine, though emulated by many, was never the target of looting campaigns—such as those of Napoleon that confiscated the Capitoline Brutus from the same museum. Constantine has always remained in Rome.

The many afterlives of Constantine

The legacy of Constantine has endured throughout the centuries. As the first Christian emperor of Rome his reign marked a transition point between the ancient and medieval worlds. In his afterlives, Constantine has been emulated by subsequent emperors—notably Charlemange and Napoleon I—studied by scholars from Late Antiquity through the present, and even canonized by the Eastern Orthodox Church.

The statue, as well, has had a significant journey since its role as a colossal imperial image. But, before we speak of the afterlife of the statue, we must first hypothesize about the previous lives of the stone. Recent conservation efforts on the white marble fragments have shown that the head was likely re-carved from an earlier statue. This was a common practice in the Roman empire, especially when an emperor experienced the damnatio memoriae or otherwise fell out of favor. As we have seen, during the Late Roman Empire, it was common to use and rework spolia in imperial building campaigns. This was likely due to increasing economic strife, and decreasing importance of the city of Rome. Constantine the Great employed an extensive amount of spolia in his public works, resituating and recarving images of those great emperors who came before him into his own image. It is also possible, due to the scale of this sculpture, that it was previously an image of a god, perhaps of Jupiter or Sol Invictus (the official sun god of the late Roman Empire). Whatever the original identity of the marble block, it has been preserved in perpetuity as a portrait of Constantine.

The 13-meter-tall (42 feet) work, displayed inside the Cisterna at the Fondazione Prada, is the result of months of close collaboration between the 3D team at Factum Foundation and a team of experts under the supervision of Claudio Parisi Presicce, the Capitoline Superintendent of Cultural Heritage

More recently, the Colossus of Constantine has had a new moment in the spotlight, ushering its presence into the 21st century. In a 2022 project to reproduce the original, a Madrid-based preservation non-profit, the Factum Foundation, created a 1:1 replica of the statue using resin, 3D printing, and other contemporary methods. First displayed in the 2022 exhibition “Recycling Beauty” at the Fondazione Prada (in Milan), the sculpture was installed in the gardens of Villa Caffarelli, adjacent to the Capitoline Museum where the original fragments are situated, in February of 2024. This reproduction is an imposing, and kitschy, addition to the museum landscape.

Though many aspects of the original Colossus of Constantine remain a mystery, the sheer scale is understood at least through the new reproduction. As a master of reproduction and reinterpretation himself, it behooves us to wonder how Constantine the Great would receive this 21st-century version of his imperial visage.

When we study ancient Greek art, so often we are really looking at ancient Roman art, or at least their copies of ancient Greek sculpture (or paintings and architecture for that matter).

Basically, just about every Roman wanted ancient Greek art. For the Romans, Greek culture symbolized a desirable way of life—of leisure, the arts, luxury and learning.

Polykleitos, Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer) or Canon, Roman marble copy of a Greek bronze, c. 450–440 B.C.E. (Museo Archaeologico Nazionale, Naples; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The popularity of ancient Greek art for the Romans

Greek art became the rage when Roman generals began conquering Greek cities (beginning in 211 B.C.E.), and returned triumphantly to Rome not with the usual booty of gold and silver coins, but with works of art. This work so impressed the Roman elite that studios were set up to meet the growing demand for copies destined for the villas of wealthy Romans. The Doryphoros was one of the most sought after, and most copied, Greek sculptures.

Example of original Greek bronze sculpture, Antikythera Youth, 340–330 B.C.E., bronze, 1.96 m high (National Archaeological Museum, Athens, photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Bronze versus marble

For the most part, the Greeks created their free-standing sculpture in bronze, but because bronze is valuable and can be melted down and reused, sculpture was often recast into weapons. This is why so few ancient Greek bronze originals survive, and why we often have to look at ancient Roman copies in marble (of varying quality) to try to understand what the Greeks achieved.

Detail showing hand where bronze spear was once held, Polykleitos, Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer) or Canon, Roman marble copy of a Greek bronze, c. 450–440 BCE (Museo Archaeologico Nazionale, Naples; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Why sculptures are often incomplete or reconstructed

To make matter worse, Roman marble sculptures were buried for centuries, and very often we recover only fragments of a sculpture that have to be reassembled. This is the reason you will often see that sculptures in museums include an arm or hand that are modern recreations, or that ancient sculptures are simply displayed incomplete.

The Doryphoros (Spear-Bearer) in the Naples museum (image above) is a Roman copy of a lost Greek original that we think was found, largely intact, in the provincial Roman city of Pompeii. [1]

The canon

The idea of ​​a canon, a rule for a standard of beauty developed for artists to follow, was not new to the ancient Greeks. The ancient Egyptians also developed a canon. Centuries later, during the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci investigated the ideal proportions of the human body with his Vitruvian Man .

Polykleitos’s idea of ​​relating beauty to ratio was later summarized by Galen, writing in the second century,

Beauty consists in the proportions, not of the elements, but of the parts, that is to say, of finger to finger, and of all fingers to the palm and the wrist, and of these to the forearm, and of the forearm to the upper arm, and of all the other parts to each other. Galen, De Placitis Hippocratis et Platonis

View of the main pool (“Great Bath”) of the Roman spa fed by the sacred spring, Bath, England, constructed from the 1st to 5th centuries C.E., the pool is now open to the sky and surrounded by later buildings (photo: Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 4.0)

If you have ever tossed a coin into a fountain and made a wish, you are in good company. Residents of the Roman empire did this too, especially at naturally occurring fountains called springs. They also tossed in curse tablets (defixiones), and this one from Aquae Sulis (Bath, England) presents a common complaint.

From Docilianus, son of Brucerus, to the most holy goddess Sulis: I curse the one who has stolen my hooded cloak, whether man or woman, whether enslaved or free, that…the goddess Sulis inflict death upon them…and not allow them sleep or children now and in the future, until they have brought my hooded cloak to the temple of her divinity.[1]

A selection of metal curse tablets recovered from the sacred spring’s reservoir, 2nd to 4th centuries C.E. (Bath, England), on view at the Roman Baths Museum (photo: Wanda Marcussen, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Having a coat stolen is a problem that people have been facing for a long time, and this victim sought justice from the Celtic goddess Sulis.

The natural hot spring that she controlled at Bath received both offerings and curses, and it also provided a perpetual source of flowing water for a luxurious Roman spa. As a natural site that changed dramatically under Roman imperial rule, Aquae Sulis preserves important evidence for religion and everyday life in the Roman province Britannia.

Map of Roman Britain, with Aquae Sulis circled (map: Simeon Netchev, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Beliefs shared and sites transformed

The Roman Empire had claimed Britannia in 43 C.E., with some of the local Celtic kingdoms supporting the invasion and some fiercely fighting against it. In the following decades, there were soldiers, traders, and travelers from all over the empire who visited the island. Like the island’s Celtic residents, these newcomers were polytheistic, meaning that they worshiped many gods and were open to honoring new ones. The names of more than 200 different deities are documented in Britannia, and Sulis is one of them. In the Latin language spoken by the newcomers, Aquae Sulis literally meant “the waters of Sulis.” 

Thermal springs were popular throughout the Roman empire because their mineral waters were known to be good for the body and their miraculous natural warmth was thought to be the work of the gods. Under Roman rule, many of these natural sites were transformed with innovative spa facilities and fashionable stone temples. These changes are well-documented at Aquae Sulis, and a small town with commercial and residential areas gradually developed around the springs.

Reconstruction of Aquae Sulis at its fullest extent (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: Kimberly Cassibry, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Architectural model showing Aquae Sulis as its fullest extent, with cut-away views revealing the insides of buildings (photo: Kimberly Cassibry, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Redesigning a sacred site

Anonymous engineers began transforming the natural setting of Aquae Sulis around 75 C.E., about a generation after Rome’s arrival. These experts isolated the place where the main hot spring emerged, created a waterproof reservoir around it, and built a wall around the reservoir. [2] A stone temple and numerous altars arose to the northwest of the spring and a luxurious communal bathing facility took shape to the southeast of the spring. [3]

This site’s ancient design is difficult to see today because of later construction, but evidence for the sacred precinct and spa survives in stone foundations and pavements, lead pipes and panels, and even collapsed concrete ceilings. Ancient artifacts tell us how the spaces were used and by whom.

View of the sacred spring reservoir (the King’s Bath), Bath, England, now framed by modern buildings (photo: Kimberly Cassibry, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

Coins at the sacred spring

From the sacred spring and the reservoir surrounding it, archaeologists have recovered nearly 13,000 coins dating from the 1st to the 5th centuries C.E. Although most of the coins were official Roman currency, the earliest ones were minted by the Dobunni community and have the abstract patterning typical of the island’s coinage prior to the Roman conquest. If you look closely, you might see the shapes of horses amid some of the patterns. The presence of Celtic coins suggests that offerings were being made here even before the era of Roman rule.

Coins of the Dobunni people, bronze, 1st century C.E. (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: The Roman Baths, Bath and North East Somerset Council)

A shared belief in reciprocity—that help from the gods should be rewarded with gifts—motivated these and other offerings left in the spring. When you toss a coin into a fountain today, you likewise pay for the magical fulfillment of a wish. At Aquae Sulis, the goddess who granted such requests was also portrayed in a magnificent statue.

The surface shows signs of corrosion from the soil and damage from the statue’s destruction in late antiquity. Head of the goddess Sulis Minerva, gilt bronze, c. 75 C.E. (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: Wanda Marcussen, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

A golden goddess

One of the most remarkable finds from Aquae Sulis is a golden head, all that remains of one of the first monumental statues in Britannia. Made of lustrous bronze in the lost-wax casting technique and covered with layers of gold, the sculpture still gleams in an otherworldly way. Because of later damage to the site and imprecise excavations in the 1700s, we do not know exactly where the statue stood in the sacred precinct.

Bowl showing Minerva wearing a helmet, 1st century C.E., silver, 23.5 cm diameter, found at Hildesheim in 1868 (Antikensammlung, Berlin; photo: public domain)

The sculpture survives without a dedicatory inscription, but a key clue to its identity lies at the top of the head, where the break indicates that a helmet was once attached. Minerva was Rome’s helmet-wearing goddess, and images throughout the empire show her with a similar oval face, idealized features, and centrally parted, wavy hair.

At Aquae Sulis, Minerva’s name appears on many altars, offerings, and curse tablets, and they all help corroborate the head’s identity. In these inscriptions, her name is paired with that of Sulis. Some inscriptions mention them together as a single entity called Sulis Minerva, and some (like the curse tablet above) address Sulis alone. Visitors might have called this statue Sulis, Minerva, or Sulis Minerva. This process of matching gods from different religious systems occurred throughout the empire.

Showing gods in human form and naming them in inscriptions were both ways that religion changed in Britannia under Roman rule. Focusing worship around stone temples was another new practice.

From the temple, fragments of a column and pedimental sculptures now reconstructed in the Roman Baths Museum (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: Kimberly Cassibry, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

A new temple

Now in fragments, the site’s Roman temple (which measured 9 by 14 meters) initially had a tall podium (1 to 2 meters tall), a central staircase, and four Corinthian columns (8 meters tall) across its front. This formula for designing stone temples was popular in Rome and other cities of the empire, such as the Roman colony Nemausus (Nîmes, France). Such buildings typically housed a statue of a god or goddess, and religious activities took place in the surrounding courtyard.

Projected light restores the color and missing sections of the pediment (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: Wanda Marcussen, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

At Aquae Sulis, the temple’s sculpted triangular pediment once soared high above the heads of the courtyard’s visitors. Today it can be seen up close in the site’s museum, where light is projected to complete the broken sections and restore the missing color.

The relief sculptures reveal a striking message. Two winged personifications of victory fly toward the center of the pediment. Their dresses flutter around them and their feet rest on globes. These winged victories were popular Roman symbols, so the fragmentary sculptures can be restored by comparison. The victories hold a large round shield adorned with two concentric oak wreaths, symbols of valor. At the shield’s center is a bearded face that has inspired debate, but likely represents Oceanus, the Roman god associated with the Atlantic Ocean. [4] Altogether, the imagery refers to Rome’s victorious expansion. These artworks are especially important because very few pedimental sculptures survive from Roman temples.

It is tempting to assume that newcomers constructed this temple, but allies on the island assisted Rome’s advance, and the building may have been funded by a member of the local elite who favored the new Roman imperial system. Future excavations may uncover new parts of the dedicatory inscription that could tell us.

Bathing together

Aquae Sulis flourished with Britannia’s most luxurious spa, fed by the sacred spring. We do not know who paid for the buildings or whether there was an entrance fee, but communal baths were typically accessible to all members of a community.

This model shows the flow of water from the sacred spring to the spa’s pools as well as the drainage system that took used and excess water away from the site (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: Kimberly Cassibry, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

The baths at Aquae Sulis were special because warm mineral water flowed continuously from the spring. Even now, the thermal waters reach about 115 degrees Fahrenheit, with a flowing rate of about 240,000 gallons a day. Most of the empire’s other spa facilities, such as the Baths of Caracalla in Rome, were supplied by aqueducts that channeled water from springs and rivers many miles away. [5]

View of the “Great Bath,” now open to the sky and framed by later buildings (photo: Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 4.0)

At Aquae Sulis, the room with the largest pool (the “Great Bath”) is now misleadingly open to the sky. In the 2nd century C.E., its original wooden roof was replaced by a vaulted concrete ceiling, one of the largest on the island. This ceiling later collapsed, and surviving sections are now on display around the pool. Only the paving stones, column bases, and pool are ancient.

Northwest corner of the “Great Bath,” where water flows in from the sacred spring. The steps into the pool are visible through the water (photo: Simon Burchell, CC BY-SA 4.0)

The room (34 meters long, 21 meters wide, and approximately 20 meters high) was designed with the pool at the center, aisles for walking on either side and small curved apses likely used for seating. A conduit in the northwest corner brought warm mineral waters from the spring’s reservoir, and steps allowed bathers to access the pool (19 meters long, 9 meters wide, 1.5 meters deep) for restorative soaking. Like the spring’s reservoir, the pool was lined with lead panels for waterproofing.

Funerary inscription honoring Rusonia Aventina, 2nd century C.E., stone, 50 x 94 x 10 cm, later reused in the city wall, found in 1803 (Roman Baths Museum, Bath; photo: Simon Burchell, CC BY-SA 4.0)

View of the “Great Bath,” now open to the sky and with the Gothic architecture of Bath Abbey visible in the background (photo: Diego Delso, CC BY-SA 4.0)

In many of the empire’s towns, going to the baths was an important part of daily social life, health, and hygiene. Facilities fed by thermal springs also attracted visitors from afar, and memorials from the surrounding town shed light on the people who lived and died at Aquae Sulis. One visitor, a woman named Rusonia Aventina, died here at the age of 58, having traveled from the territory of the Celtic Mediomatrici people in Roman France (ancient Gaul). 

The fate of Aquae Sulis

The Temple of Sulis Minerva fell out of use by the late 300s C.E. when Christianity, a monotheistic religion, became more common. By the early 400s C.E., the Roman army had withdrawn from the island, and new groups began invading from northern Europe. Amid all of this change, the statue of Sulis Minerva was pulled down and hacked apart, and the Roman baths gradually became ruins. Yet the mineral waters kept flowing, and the town continued to develop around them. The settlement’s name eventually changed to Bath.

Modern legacy

In the 1700s, the Roman reservoir and spa were substantially rebuilt, and Bath flourished again as a bathing center. In 1987, UNESCO recognized Bath as a world heritage site, in part due to the Roman remains. Bathing is no longer permitted in the Roman pools, but visitors can still see the steaming spring water, walk around the ancient remains, and observe the elegant buildings from the 18th and 19th centuries that rise above them.

Livia Drusilla as Priestess (Livia was married to the Roman Emperor Augustus), 2nd quarter of the 1st century C.E. (found at the theatre at Herculaneum), bronze (National Archaeological Museum, Naples, photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-SA 2.0)

In the Roman world, art did not exist for art’s sake; rather, art was a way that individuals from the emperor to a freedman (that is a formerly enslaved man) might present himself—or herself—to the world. Images of Roman empresses abound, appearing on coins, in relief and architectural sculpture, in cameos, and other small-scale luxury items. Elite women were often the benefactors of their cities and were honored with sculptural dedications in public spaces. But sculptural reliefs were also a common way that non-elite women, across the empire, articulated their identities and their work. Free-born, freed, and/or enslaved women, like their male counterparts, are well represented in the art—especially funerary reliefs—of the late Republican and Imperial eras (1st century B.C.E. to 3rd century C.E.). Tombs lined the roads leading to and from Roman cities, aiming to attract the attention of passers-by. These reliefs, when interpreted alongside the funerary inscriptions that also adorn many Roman tombs and grave markers, enable us to understand the diverse types of labor that Roman women performed. Wall paintings from Pompeii also depict women working.

The domestic sphere: hairdressers & midwives

Domestic work dominated women’s employment in the Roman world, whether they were enslaved, freedwomen, or, on occasion, free-born. Funerary inscriptions demonstrate that more than 40 percent of women’s jobs were domestic in nature.

Considering the importance of hair as a symbol of status, personal identity, and cultural belonging for Rome’s elite women, it is unsurprising that the hairdresser (ornatrix) was one of the most important and widespread jobs for Roman women. For example, in Ostia, 20 percent of the funerary inscriptions about women note that their jobs were hairdressers. While some of them were attached to a household, other women worked independently. There were also personal attendants (like a lady’s maid), dressers, and masseuses. They were essential in helping elite women cultivate their appearance.

Funerary relief depicting a woman’s hair being dressed by enslaved women, c. 220 C.E. (Neumagen, Germany) (Rheinisches Landesmuseum Trier; photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0)

A late 2nd-century or early 3rd-century C.E. funerary relief from Neumagen (Germany) depicts a woman at her toilette having her hair done. Seated in a wicker chair with her feet comfortably resting on a low bench, the mistress of the house is attended to by a simply-dressed ornatrix styling her mistress’s hair from behind, while three other women attend to her. One holds a pitcher while another holds a flattened disc which could be a mirror. Another woman looks on, perhaps her dresser. The reliefs that decorated the architectural frame of the scene have traces of pigment (with green on the leaves against a red background) indicating that this relief was once quite colorful. While the mistress’s hair is being tended to, the other three women all have simple buns pulled up on the crown of their heads ensuring that their hair is out of the way. Scholars have argued that the mistress of the house owned these enslaved women rather than her husband, a sign of her financial independence. The relief also helps to see how people—women both free and enslaved—who often don’t appear in the historical record are present in material culture. There is no surviving inscription to tell us more about these individuals, but clearly being shown as mistress of the house was important.

Marble plaque showing parturition scene, 400 B.C.E.–300 C.E. (Ostia, Italy), marble, 25 x 34 x 6.3 cm (Science Museum, London)

Delivering children was also considered women’s work in the Roman world. Midwives (obstetrices), wet nurses (nutrices), and doctors (medicae) could be enslaved in a particular household or could work independently. According to the Digest of Justinian, a compilation of legal texts published in the 6th century C.E. (7.7.1.5a), enslaved people with medical training had a high value, regardless of gender. Certain doctors or midwives were valued because they had expertise in women’s health and obstetrics. While many scenes depict women seated upright on a birthing chair (to take advantage of gravity), this scene, from Isola Sacra (near Ostia), shows a woman lying on her back while in the process of giving birth. Her face is serious and she looks directly at the mid-wife who is assisting her. She has already given birth to one child, who is being held on a cushion with a blanket at the left of the scene. She may be giving birth to a second child. We do not know if this relief commemorated the midwife, who appears prominently, or the woman giving birth.

Relief with market scene, 2nd century C.E., marble, 21 x 54 cm (Museum Ostienese, Ostia)

Shop keepers

Outside the home, we know that women also worked in markets, as well as at inns and taverns. Ostia is filled with reliefs depicting women at work. A 2nd-century C.E. relief from the Via della Foce focuses on a woman who is selling vegetables, poultry, and rabbits (some of whom are still alive and visible in cages) while her pet monkeys look on.

Women working in a fullonica from the so-called Fullonica di Veranius Hypsaeus (VI.8.20), Pompeii, pre-79 C.E. (National Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Women also engaged in manual labor. For example, they appear cleaning and working cloth at a fullonica, or fullery (VI.8.20), in Pompeii. A fullonica was an establishment where cloth was laundered, but also where workers may have prepared cloth (for example by dying it) before it was sold. This wonderful wall painting, now in the Archaeological Museum in Naples, shows—in vivid color—how women contributed to the Roman economy. Wall paintings provide another important source of evidence for women and their labor in the Roman world.

A barmaid, fresco from the so-called bar (caupona) of Salvius (VI.14.36), Pompeii, pre-79 C.E. (National Archaeological Museum, Naples)

Other occupations: sex workers & gladiators

Women also held other less reputable or lower-status jobs in the Roman world. Women worked as wait staff at bars and inns, but the ancient sources also report that such women were also available for sex—at a price—to their establishment’s clients. In this fresco from the bar (caupona) of Salvius (VI.14.36) a barmaid carries not only a mug, but a large pitcher (lagona) of wine to the bar’s patrons. The fresco’s Latin inscription (CIL IV 3494) brings humor and levity to the scene. Reading from left to right, one man says, “Over here (hoc);” while the one on the right says, “No, It’s mine! (Non mia est)” The barmaid, exasperated by their bickering, replies, “Whoever wants it should take it. Oceanus, come here and drink! (Qui vol sumat oceane veni bibe).” [1]

Contemporary male authors also viewed female singers and dancers as sex workers by another name. Sex workers do appear in the archaeological record (there was in fact a purpose-built brothel in Pompeii).

Two Female Gladiators (Achilia and Amazon), 1st–2nd century C.E. (found at Halicarnassus), marble (© The Trustees of the British Museum, London)

Women could even be gladiators. The ancient sources again note that women fought as gladiators, and Roman emperors periodically banned female gladiators from fighting in the arena. A marble relief from Halicarnassus (in modern-day Turkey) depicts two female gladiators, named Amazon and Achilia (their names appear in Greek below the relief on a block). While scholars debate precisely what this scene shows, they are armed and ready to strike. Each bearing swords and shields, they are dressed identically to male gladiators but they both lack helmets. The right figure’s head has not survived. Their arms are wrapped in straps and the fighter on the right seems to pull her left arm back, ready to land a blow. Spectators appear on both sides of the block, peering up at their combat.

The names of these two gladiators, Amazon and Achilia, may refer to a mythic ancient Greek battle between the Greeks and the Amazons (mythological female warriors), a subject that appears frequently in ancient Greek art (including on the Parthenon). As scholars have noted, battles between female gladiators might have been viewed as a reenactment of mythological battles that Romans enjoyed.

While we lack the voices of many people from the Roman world, these funerary reliefs—both their images and words—help us to understand the vibrant role that women played in the Roman economy and the daily lives of women across the Roman world.

Take a closer look at this 1000 year old Spanish illumination with Josh O’Driscoll, Assistant Curator of Medieval and Renaissance Manuscripts as he shares the incredible story. St. Beatus of Liébana completed his commentary about 776. The long cycles of pictures accompanying it constitute the greatest achievement of medieval Spanish illumination. The Morgan Beatus is important because it is the earliest complete copy and thus stands at the beginning of the Beatus tradition. Although the book was ordered for Escalada (consecrated in 913), it was not made there, as Maius worked in the tower scriptorium at San Salvador de Tábara, where he died and was buried in 968. Maius tells us he made the book so that the “wise may fear the coming of the future judgment of the world’s end.”

Preserved in a desert monastery, this wax-on-wood icon leads the viewer upward and inward to the spiritual realm.

Icon with the Virgin and Child, Saints, Angels, and the Hand of God, 6th century (Early Byzantine), encaustic on panel, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (The Holy Monastery of Saint Catherine, Sinai, Egypt). Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker with support from the Byzantine Studies Association of North America, Inc. and the Mary Jaharis Center for Byzantine Art & Culture

Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George, 6th or early 7th century, encaustic on wood, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai, Egypt; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

At Mount Sinai Monastery

One of thousands of important Byzantine images, books, and documents preserved at Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Mount Sinai (Egypt) is the remarkable encaustic icon painting of the Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George.

Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George, 6th or early 7th century, encaustic on wood, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai, Egypt; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The icon shows the Virgin and Child flanked by two soldier saints, Saint Theodore to the left and Saint George at the right. Above these are two angels who gaze upward to the hand of God, from which light emanates, falling on the Virgin.

Virgin and child bottom middle, Saint Theodore (left) and Saint George (right), and two angels in the back, Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George, 6th or early 7th century, encaustic on wood, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai, Egypt; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Selectively classicizing

The painter selectively used the classicizing style inherited from Rome. The faces are modeled; we see the same convincing modeling in the heads of the angels (note the muscles of the necks) and the ease with which the heads turn almost three-quarters.

The space appears compressed, almost flat, at our first encounter. Yet we find spatial recession, first in the throne of the Virgin where we glimpse part of the right side and a shadow cast by the throne; we also see a receding armrest as well as a projecting footrest. The Virgin, with a slight twist of her body, sits comfortably on the throne, leaning her body left toward the edge of the throne. The child sits on her ample lap as the mother supports him with both hands. We see the left knee of the Virgin beneath convincing drapery whose folds fall between her legs.

Hand of God (detail), Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George, 6th or early 7th century, encaustic on wood, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai, Egypt; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

At the top of the painting an architectural member turns and recedes at the heads of the angels. The architecture helps to create and close off the space around the holy scene.

Left: Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George, 6th or early 7th century, encaustic on wood, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai, Egypt; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0); right: Byzantine panel with archangel, ivory leaf from diptych, c. 525–550 C.E. (probably from Constantinople, modern Istanbul, Turkey), 42.8 x 14.3 x 0.9 cm (© The Trustees of the British Museum, London)

The composition displays a spatial ambiguity that places the scene in a world that operates differently from our world, reminiscent of the spatial ambiguity of the earlier Ivory panel with Archangel. The ambiguity allows the scene to partake of the viewer’s world but also separates the scene from the normal world.

Virgin (center), Saints Theodore and George (left and right), Virgin (Theotokos) and Child between Saints Theodore and George, 6th or early 7th century, encaustic on wood, 68.5 x 49.5 cm (Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Sinai, Egypt; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

New in our icon is what we might call a “hierarchy of bodies.” Theodore and George stand erect, feet on the ground, and gaze directly at the viewer with large, passive eyes. While looking at us they show no recognition of the viewer and appear ready to receive something from us. The saints are slightly animated by the lifting of a heel by each as though they slowly step toward us.

The Virgin averts her gaze and does not make eye contact with the viewer. The ethereal angels concentrate on the hand above. The light tones of the angels and especially the slightly transparent rendering of their halos give the two an otherworldly appearance.

Visual movement upward, toward the hand of God

This supremely composed picture gives us an unmistakable sense of visual movement inward and upward, from the saints to the Virgin and from the Virgin upward past the angels to the hand of God. The passive saints seem to stand ready to receive the veneration of the viewer and pass it inward and upward until it reaches the most sacred realm depicted in the picture.

We can describe the differing appearances as saints who seem to inhabit a world close to our own (they alone have a ground line), the Virgin and Child who are elevated and look beyond us, and the angels who reside near the hand of God transcend our space. As the eye moves upward we pass through zones: the saints, standing on ground and therefore closest to us, and then upward and more ethereal until we reach the holiest zone, that of the hand of God. These zones of holiness suggest a cosmos of the world, earth and real people, through the Virgin, heavenly angels, and finally the hand of God. The viewer who stands before the scene make this cosmos complete, from “our earth” to heaven.

Made for a member of the Roman elite, this early tomb features Old and New Testament scenes in a classical style.

Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, marble, 359 C.E., almost 8 x 6 x 5 feet (Museum of the Treasury of the Basilica of Saint Peter in the Vatican). Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker

Christianity becomes legal

By the middle of the fourth century Christianity had undergone a dramatic transformation. Before Emperor Constantine’s acceptance, Christianity had a marginal status in the Roman world. Attracting converts in the urban populations, Christianity appealed to the faithful’s desires for personal salvation; however, due to Christianity’s monotheism (which prohibited its followers from participating in the public cults), Christians suffered periodic episodes of persecution. By the middle of the fourth century, Christianity under imperial patronage had become a part of the establishment. The elite of Roman society were becoming new converts.

Plaster cast copy of Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, original is 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Such an individual was Junius Bassus. He was a member of a senatorial family. His father had held the position of Praetorian prefect, which involved administration of the Western Empire. Junius Bassus held the position of praefectus urbi (“urban prefect”) for Rome, an office established in the early period under the kings, and was responsible for the administration of the city of Rome. It was a position held by members of the most elite families. When Junius Bassus died at the age of 42 in the year 359, a sarcophagus was made for him. As recorded in an inscription on the sarcophagus now in the Vatican collection, Junius Bassus had become a convert to Christianity shortly before his death.

The birth of Christian symbolism in art

The style and iconography of this sarcophagus reflects the transformed status of Christianity. This is most evident in the image at the center of the upper register. Before the time of Constantine, the figure of Christ was rarely directly represented, but here on the Junius Bassus sarcophagus we see Christ prominently represented not in a narrative representation from the New Testament but in a formula derived from Roman Imperial art. The traditio legis (“giving of the law”) was a formula in Roman art to give visual testament to the emperor as the sole source of the law.

Giving of the law (tradition legis) (detail), Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Already at this early period, artists had articulated identifiable formulas for representing Saints Peter and Paul. Peter was represented with a bowl haircut and a short cropped beard, while the figure of Paul was represented with a pointed beard and usually a high forehead. In paintings, Peter has white hair and Paul’s hair is black. The early establishment of these formulas was undoubtedly a product of the doctrine of apostolic authority in the early church. Bishops claimed that their authority could be traced back to the original Twelve Apostles.

Peter and Paul held the status as the principal apostles. The Bishops of Rome have understood themselves in a direct succession back to Saint Peter, the founder of the church in Rome and its first bishop. The popularity of the formula of the traditio legis in Christian art in the fourth century was due to the importance of establishing orthodox Christian doctrine.

In contrast to the established formulas for representing Saints Peter and Paul, early Christian art reveals two competing conceptions of Christ. The youthful, beardless Christ, based on representation of Apollo, vied for dominance with the long-haired and bearded Christ, based on representations of Jupiter or Zeus.

The feet of Christ in the Junius Bassus relief rest on the head of a bearded, muscular figure, who holds a billowing veil spread over his head. This is another formula derived from Roman art. A comparable figure appears at the top of the cuirass of the Augustus of Primaporta. The figure can be identified as the figure of Caelus, or the heavens. In the context of the Augustan statue, the figure of Caelus signifies Roman authority and its rule of everything earthly, that is, under the heavens. In the Junius Bassus relief, Caelus’s position under Christ’s feet signifies that Christ is the ruler of heaven.

Left: Christ’s entry into Jerusalem (detail), plaster copy of Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, original is 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City; photo: Giovanni Dall’Orto); right: Adventus of Marcus Aurelius, 176–80 C.E., marble (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome; photo: MatthiasKabel)

The lower register directly underneath depicts Christ’s Entry into Jerusalem. This image was also based on a formula derived from Roman imperial art. The adventus was a formula devised to show the triumphal arrival of the emperor with figures offering homage. A relief from the reign of Marcus Aurelius illustrates this formula. In including the Entry into Jerusalem, the designer of the Junius Bassus sarcophagus did not just use this to represent the New Testament story, but with the adventus iconography, this image signifies Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Whereas the traditio legis above conveys Christ’s heavenly authority, it is likely that the Entry into Jerusalem in the form of the adventus was intended to signify Christ’s earthly authority. The juxtaposition of the Christ in Majesty and the Entry into Jerusalem suggests that the planner of the sarcophagus had an intentional program in mind.

Old and new together

We can determine some intentionality in the inclusion of the Old and New Testament scenes. For example the image of Adam and Eve shown covering their nudity after the Fall was intended to refer to the doctrine of Original Sin that necessitated Christ’s entry into the world to redeem humanity through His death and resurrection. Humanity is thus in need of salvation from this world.

Adam and Eve (detail), plaster copy of Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, original is 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The inclusion of the suffering of Job on the left hand side of the lower register conveyed the meaning how even the righteous must suffer the discomforts and pains of this life. Job is saved only by his unbroken faith in God.

The scene of Daniel in the lion’s den to the right of the Entry into Jerusalem had been popular in earlier Christian art as another example of how salvation is achieved through faith in God.

Sacrifice of Isaac (detail), Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Salvation is a message in the relief of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac on the left hand side of the upper register. God challenged Abraham’s faith by commanding Abraham to sacrifice his only son Isaac. At the moment when Abraham is about to carry out the sacrifice his hand is stayed by an angel. Isaac is thus saved. It is likely that the inclusion of this scene in the context of the rest of the sarcophagus had another meaning as well. The story of the father’s sacrifice of his only son was understood to refer to God’s sacrifice of his son, Christ, on the Cross. Early Christian theologians attempting to integrate the Old and New Testaments saw in Old Testament stories prefigurations or precursors of New Testament stories. Throughout Christian art the popularity of Abraham’s Sacrifice of Isaac is explained by its typological reference to the Crucifixion of Christ.

Martyrdom

While not showing directly the Crucifixion of Christ, the inclusion of the Judgment of Pilate in two compartments on the right hand side of the upper register is an early appearance in Christian art of a scene drawn from Christ’s Passion. The scene is based on the formula in Roman art of Justitia, illustrated here by a panel made for Marcus Aurelius. Here the emperor is shown seated on the sella curulis dispensing justice to a barbarian figure. On the sarcophagus, Pilate is shown seated also on a sella curulis. The position of Pontius Pilate as the Roman prefect or governor of Judaea undoubtedly carried special meaning for Junius Bassus in his role as praefectus urbi in Rome. Junius Bassus as a senior magistrate would also be entitled to sit on a sella curulis.

Judgement of Pilate (detail), Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Just as Christ was judged by Roman authority, Saints Peter and Paul were martyred under Roman rule. The remaining two scenes on the sarcophagus represent Saints Peter and Paul being led to their martyrdoms. Peter and Paul as the principal apostles of Christ are again given prominence. Their martyrdoms witness Christ’s own death. The artists seem to be making this point by the visual pairing of the scene of Saint Peter being led to his martyrdom and the figure of Christ before Pilate. In both scenes the principal figure is flanked by two other figures.

The importance of Peter and Paul in Rome is made apparent in that two of the major churches that Constantine constructed in Rome were the Church of Saint Peter and the Church of Saint Paul Outside the Walls. The site of the Church of Saint Peter has long believed to be the place of Saint Peter’s burial. The basilica was constructed in an ancient cemetery. Although we can not be certain the the Junius Bassus Sarcophagus was originally intended for this site, it would make sense that a prominent Roman Christian like Junius Bassus would want to be buried in close physical proximity to the burial spot of the founder of the Church of Rome.

Competing styles

At either end of the Junius Bassus sarcophagus appear Erotes harvesting grapes and wheat. A panel with the same subject was probably a part of a pagan sarcophagus made for a child. This iconography is based on images of the seasons in Roman art. Again, the artists have taken conventions from Greek and Roman art and converted it into a Christian context. The wheat and grapes of the classical motif would be understood in the Christian context as a reference to the bread and wine of the Eucharist.

Erotes harvesting grapes (detail), plaster copy of Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, original is 359 C.E., marble (Treasury, St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City; photo: Giovanni Dall’Orto)

Erotes harvesting grapes (detail), Sarcophagus representing a Dionysiac Vintage Festival, 290–300 C.E., marble (Getty, Los Angeles)

While the proportions are far from the standards of classical art, the style of the relief, especially with the rich folds of drapery and soft facial features, can be seen as classic or alluding to the classical style. Comparably the division of the relief into different registers and further subdivided by an architectural framework alludes to the orderly disposition of classical art. This choice of a style that alludes to classical art was undoubtedly intentional. The art of the period is marked by a number of competing styles. Just as rhetoricians were taught at this period to adjust their oratorical style to the intended audience, the choice of the classical style was seen as an indication of the high social status of the patron, Junius Bassus. In a similar way, the representation of the figures in togas was intentional. In Roman art, the toga was traditionally used as a symbol of high social status.

In both its style and iconography, the Junius Bassus Sarcophagus witnesses the adoption of the tradition of Greek and Roman art by Christian artists. Works like this were appealing to patrons like Junius Bassus who were a part of the upper level of Roman society. Christian art did not reject the classical tradition: rather, the classical tradition will be a reoccurring element in Christian art throughout the Middle Ages.

A mosaic proclaims Christ’s rule over the Heavenly Jerusalem. Gesture, toga, and book signal imperial authority.

Apse mosaic in Santa Pudenziana, c. 400 (Rome). Speakers: Dr. Steven Zucker and Dr. Beth Harris

Façade of Santa Pudenziana, 4th century C.E., Rome (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

A ritual space

The opulent interior of the Constantinian basilicas would have created an effective space for increasingly elaborate rituals. Influenced by the splendor of the rituals associated with the emperor, the liturgy placed emphasis on the dramatic entrances and the stages of the rituals. For example, the introit or entrance of the priest into the church was influenced by the adventus or arrival of the emperor.

Nave and apse of Santa Pudenziana, 4th century C.E. (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The culmination of the entrance, as well as the focal point of the architecture, was the apse. It was here that the sacraments would be performed, and it was here that the priest would proclaim the word. In Roman civic and imperial basilicas, the apse had been the seat of authority. In the civic basilicas, this is where the magistrate would sit adjacent to an imperial image and dispense judgment. In the imperial basilicas, the emperor would be enthroned. These associations with authority made the apse a suitable stage for the Christian rituals. The priest would be like the magistrate proclaiming the word of a higher authority.

A late 4th century mosaic in the apse of the Roman church of Santa Pudenziana visualizes this. We see in this image a dramatic transformation in the conception of Christ from the pre-Constantinian period.

Apse mosaic of Santa Pudenziana, 4th century C.E., Rome (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Missorium of Theodosius, 388 C.E., silver with traces of gilding, 74 cm diameter (Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid)

From teacher to God

In the Santa Pudenziana mosaic, Christ is shown in the center, seated on a jewel-encrusted throne. He wears a gold toga with purple trim, both colors associated with imperial authority. His right hand is extended in the ad locutio gesture conventional in imperial representations. Holding a book in his right hand, Christ is shown proclaiming the word. This is dependent on another convention of Roman imperial art of the so-called traditio legis, or the handing down of the law. A silver plate known as the Missorium of Theodosius made for the Emperor Theodosius in 388 to mark the tenth anniversary of his accession to power shows the Emperor in the center handing down the scroll of the law. Notably, the Emperor Theodosius is shown with a halo, much like the figure of Christ.

Christ proclaiming the word (detail), apse mosaic of Santa Pudenziana, 4th century C.E., Rome (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

While the halo would become a standard convention in Christian art to demarcate sacred figures, the origins of this convention can be found in imperial representations like the image of Theodosius. Behind the figure of Christ appears an elaborate city. In the center appears a hill surmounted by a jewel-encrusted Cross. This identifies the city as Jerusalem and the hill as Golgotha, but this is not the earthly city but rather the heavenly Jerusalem. This is made clear by the four figures seen hovering in the sky around the Cross. These are identifiable as the four beasts that are described as accompanying the lamb in the Book of Revelation.

Winged lion representing St. Mark and winged ox representing St. Luke, two of the Four Evangelists (detail), apse mosaic of Santa Pudenziana, 4th century C.E., Rome (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

The winged man, the winged lion, the winged ox, and the eagle became in Christian art symbols for the Four Evangelists, but in the context of the Santa Pudenziana mosaic, they define the realm as outside earthly time and space or as the heavenly realm. Christ is thus represented as the ruler of the heavenly city. The cross has become a sign of the triumph of Christ. This mosaic finds a clear echo in the following excerpt from the writings of the early Christian theologian St. John Chrysostom:

You will see the king, seated on the throne of that unutterable glory, together with the angels and archangels standing beside him, as well as the countless legions of the ranks of the saints. This is how the Holy City appears….In this city is towering the wonderful and glorious sign of victory, the Cross, the victory booty of Christ, the first fruit of our human kind, the spoils of war of our king.

Migne, PG, LVII, cols. 23–24 
The language of this passage shows the unmistakable influence of the Roman emphasis on triumph. The cross is characterized as a trophy or victory monument. Christ is conceived of as a warrior king. The order of the heavenly realm is characterized as like the Roman army divided up into legions. Both the text and mosaic reflect the transformation in the conception of Christ. These document the merging of Christianity with Roman imperial authority.

Christ and the Apostles, Catacombs of Domitilla, 4th century C.E., Rome (photo: Tyler Bell, CC BY 2.0)

It is this aura of imperial authority that distinguishes the Santa Pudenziana mosaic from the painting of Christ and his disciples from the Catacomb of Domitilla. Christ in the catacomb painting is simply a teacher, while in the mosaic, Christ has been transformed into the ruler of heaven. Even his long flowing beard and hair construct Christ as being like Zeus or Jupiter. The mosaic makes clear that all authority comes from Christ. He delegates that authority to his flanking apostles. It is significant that in the Santa Pudenziana mosaic, the figure of Christ is flanked by the figure of St. Paul on the left and the figure of St. Peter on the right. These are the principal apostles.

Female figure personifying the division of the church of the Jews and the Gentiles (detail), apse mosaic of Santa Pudenziana (detail), 4th century C.E., Rome (photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

By the 4th century, it was already established that the Bishop of Rome, or the Pope, was the successor of St. Peter, the founder of the Church of Rome. Just as power descends from Christ through the apostles, so at the end of time, that power will be returned to Christ. The standing female figures can be identified as personifications of the major division of Christianity between the church of the Jews and that of the Gentiles. They can be seen as offering up their crowns to Christ, like the 24 Elders are described as returning their crowns in the Book of Revelation.

Missorium of Theodosius, 388 C.E., silver with traces of gilding, 74 cm diameter (Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid)

The meaning is clear that all authority comes from Christ, just as in the Missorium of Theodosius, which shows the transmission of authority from the Emperor to his co-emperors. This emphasis on authority should be understood in the context of the religious debates of the period. When Constantine accepted Christianity, there was not one Christianity but a wide diversity of different versions. A central concern for Constantine was the establishment of Christian orthodoxy in order to unify the church.

Christianity underwent a fundamental transformation with its acceptance by Constantine. The imagery of Christian art before Constantine appealed to the believer’s desires for personal salvation, while the dominant themes of Christian art after Constantine emphasized the authority of Christ and His church in the world.

Statue of Roman Emperor Augustus, wearing a cuirass, and a mosaic of Christ depicted in a similar manner. Left: Augustus of Primaporta, early 1st century C.E., marble with traces of polychromy, 203 cm high (Vatican Museums; photo: Steven Zucker, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0); right: Christ treading the Lion and Asp mosaic from the Archiepiscopal Palace, 5th century C.E. (Archiepiscopal Palace, Ravenna; photo: Incola, CC BY-SA 4.0)

Just as Rome became Christian, Christianity and Christ took on the aura of Imperial Rome. A dramatic example of this is presented by a mosaic of Christ in the Archiepiscopal Palace in Ravenna. Here Christ is shown wearing the cuirass, or the breastplate, regularly depicted in images of Roman Emperors and generals. The staff of imperial authority has been transformed into the cross.

Originally built in the 4th century, the Aula Palatina has been remade several times according to the aesthetics of each age that transformed it.

Basilica of Constantine (Aula Palatina), c. 310 C.E., Trier, Germany. Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker

Large, colorful gems ornament this magnificent Ottonian cross, likely made for emperor Otto III.

Cross of Lothair II, c. 1000 (Ottonian), oak core, gold, silver, gems, pearls, Augustus spolia cameo, cloisonné enamel, 50 x 38.5 x 2.3 cm, base dates to the 14th century, dedicated by Otto III (Aachen Cathedral Treasury Germany). Speakers: Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker

Aerial view of Ostia Antica (underlying map © Google)

The ancient Roman city of Ostia was a diverse, working class city with inhabitants from across the Mediterranean world.

Origins

Although the Roman state would eventually grow to be a large empire, it began humbly as a small village on the Palatine Hill in Rome in the 8th century B.C.E. As the city grew, so did the desire to help protect itself from enemies who might try to access it from the sea. This led to the establishment of Rome’s first colony, Ostia. Ostia is located approximately 15 miles west of Rome where the Tiber River drains into the Tyrrhenian Sea. Today, Ostia is located further inland as the landscape has expanded over the past two millennia.

Ostia map (underlying map © Google)

According to ancient tradition, Ostia was founded in the 7th century B.C.E during the reign of king Ancus Marcius during Rome’s monarchic period, but the earliest archaeological evidence recorded only dates to the 4th century B.C.E. The earliest known remains of the city show that it was laid out as a castrum (a Roman military camp divided into four quadrants by north-south and east-west roads and surrounded by a defensive wall).

House of the Porch, Ostia Antica (photo: Bradley Weber, CC BY 2.0)

Growth

The city of Rome originally featured a small port along the Tiber River in the area of what later became the Forum Boarium, or cattle market. As the city grew, so did the need for a larger port, and Ostia was the perfect location. Though Ostia did not reach its peak size and prosperity until the 2nd century C.E., the city experienced its first notable expansion in the early 1st century B.C.E. thanks to the Roman general Sulla, who also built a new, much larger wall around the city to protect its expanding territory. While the city continued to grow for centuries after its establishment, the center of the city grid continued to follow the castrum plan even as the other streets and buildings grew up around it.

Insulae in Ostia. Left: House of Diana, Ostia Antica (photo: Jean-Pierre Dalbéra, CC BY 2.0); right: speculative reconstruction, House of Diana by Italo Gismondi

As Rome’s port city, the population of Ostia included both permanent residents as well as temporary residents like merchants who came to trade from across the Mediterranean. Most of Ostia’s population was comprised of the working class, the majority of which lived in insulae, or apartment buildings.

Forum and Capitolium

Like other Roman cities, the forum was the center of both political and civic life. Though Ostia had existed for centuries, the forum did not begin to develop as a civic center until the 1st century B.C.E. Just as in the Forum Romanum in Rome, the forum at Ostia featured a basilica (judicial court), a curia (Senate House), temples, and a large open space in the center. To the south of the forum was the Temple of Roma (the personification of the city of Rome) and Augustus.

Capitolium in the forum, c. 117–138 C.E., Ostia Antica (photo: Bradley Weber, CC BY 2.0)

To the north was the Capitolium, a temple dedicated to the worship of three deities: Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, known as the Capitoline Triad. The remains of the Capitolium date to the emperor Hadrian’s reign, though it likely replaced an earlier temple or shrine.

As is typical of many Roman temples, it featured a high podium, a single frontal staircase leading to a deep porch, and Corinthian columns topped with a pediment. The temple was hexastyle, meaning that there were 6 columns across the façade. Unlike the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitoline Hill in Rome, this temple did not have three cellae (cult rooms). Instead, it had one cella with space for three cult statues.

The temple was constructed of concrete faced with Roman bricks (opus latericium), which are typically longer and thinner than modern bricks. However, this brick-faced concrete core would not have been visible in antiquity as the temple was originally faced with white marble. The interior floor of the cella was covered with opus sectile, colorful cut marbles arranged into geometric patterns.

Mosaic with Neptune holding a trident riding a quadriga, Baths of Neptune, Ostia (photo: Jessica Mingoia, all rights reserved)

The baths

To date, excavations in Ostia have uncovered 26 bath complexes. Though none of them are imperial baths on the scale of those in Rome, like the Baths of Caracalla, bathing was a central part of Roman life in any location. Most of the bath complexes featured the typical changing room (apodyterium), hot baths (caldarium), warm baths (tepidarium), and cold baths (frigidarium), but only the larger structures had room for a palaestra (open-air exercise area).

One of the bath complexes is the so-called Baths of Neptune constructed in the 2nd century C.E. The baths received their modern name thanks to a mosaic of Neptune, the god of the sea, surrounded by sea creatures and mythological beings. In the center, Neptune rides on a quadriga (a chariot led by four hippocamps, which are half horse, half sea creature). He is surrounded by sea nymphs, Tritons (sea-gods), dolphins, and other real and mythological sea creatures.

Like the majority of mosaics in Ostia, it was made of only black and white tesserae. Black and white mosaics were less expensive than mosaics with colorful tesserae, but even opulent buildings feature black and white mosaics, suggesting that it reflects a shift in aesthetic preferences rather than cost. The background is white with no sense of depth. The figures appear as silhouettes in black tesserae, though white tesserae are used to provide outlines to the muscles, drapery, and hair.

Theatre and the Piazzale delle Corporazioni in the distance, Ostia (photo: Groume, CC BY-SA 2.0)

Theatre & Piazza of the Corporations

Not far from the forum was a theatre. Unlike Greek theatres, which are typically constructed on top of a natural hillside, Roman theatres were free-standing. Though it was originally constructed in the 1st century B.C.E., it was renovated and expanded in the late 2nd century C.E. As was typical of Roman theatres, it was shaped like a half-circle.

The cavea, or tiered seating area, held approximately 3,000 spectators and was supported by a series of concrete barrel vaults. The cavea could be accessed through a barrel-vaulted tunnel in the center of the exterior façade, four staircases leading to the higher seating areas, or a corridor located on each side of the theatre between the cavea and stage.

Like many structures in Ostia, the façade was faced in Roman bricks. Unlike the Capitolium, the brick was left exposed. Inside the theatre, the area located in front of the cavea is known as an orchestra, an open space in the shape of another half-circle. The orchestra space was used by the actors, as was the pulpitum, the elevated, flat, rectangular space bordering the straight side of the orchestra which resembles our modern stages. Behind the pulpitum was the scaenae frons, a large architectural façade that forms the back wall of the stage.

Typically, the scaenae frons of a theatre was two to three stories in height and equal to the height of the top of the cavea. It featured a façade with architectural projections and recessions, marble columns and sculpture. Unfortunately, the scaenae frons did not survive to the present, though the theatre is occasionally still used today for theatrical and musical performances.

Office mosaic with lighthouse, ships, and dolphin, Piazzale delle Corporazioni, Ostia (photo: Mr. Allan Parsons, CC BY 2.0)

Behind the scaenae frons was a double-rowed portico divided in the center by a colonnade which was constructed under the Emperor Hadrian. Under the Emperor Commodus, one row of the portico was converted into 61 small rooms which functioned as offices for the merchants, shippers, and traders who conducted business out of Ostia. Today, this is called the Piazzale delle Corporazioni, or Piazza of the Corporations.

Each of these offices featured a black and white floor mosaic which helped to identify the business conducted within. Many of the mosaics depict ships, a fitting subject for a city that served as the port of Rome and a major trade hub. One mosaic even portrays an elephant which suggests the merchant or trader who operated from this office imported elephants from North Africa for Roman gladiatorial spectacles.

Necropolis, Isola Sacra, north of Ostia (photo: isafmt, CC BY 2.0)

Isola Sacra

North of the city was the Isola Sacra, a necropolis on its own island located between the two branches of the Tiber where the river spilled into the sea. Isola Sacra, or Sacred Island, is a modern name. The necropolis contains more than 100 tombs which resemble small, brick-faced houses.

Many of the deceased in these tombs are freedmen (formerly enslaved people) and Ostia’s working class. The exterior of these tombs often feature terracotta relief plaques that reference the deceased’s occupation such as grain mills, ships, vegetable vendors, and midwifes. These plaques are indicative of the pride shown by the merchant class in their professions.

Aerial view of Ostia Antica and and the hexagonal Portus (underlying map © Google)

The ports

The port of Ostia was located to the north of the Isola Sacra at Portus, above the upper branch of the Tiber River. The Emperor Claudius constructed a harbor and channel beginning in 42 C.E. It included a small island with a lighthouse at the harbor entrance to help guide ships into port. However, it was the construction of Emperor Trajan’s hexagonally shaped artificial harbor basin that helped bring great prosperity to the city, leading to the construction and population boom of the 2nd century C.E. The port included mooring for 100 ships simultaneously.

The port and the buildings which surrounded it are known as Portus. Portus featured many warehouses to accommodate the large influx of goods imported and exported and eventually became its own micro-city with a bath complex, temples, and apartments, serving as an extension of Ostia. Though today Portus is no longer located on the edge of the sea, the hexagonal basin is still visible in the Italian landscape.

Horrea Epagathiana & Epaphroditiana, Ostia (photo: Jessica Mingoia, all rights reserved)

Warehouses

Once goods were unloaded from the ships, they were stored in warehouses. Items temporarily stored at Portus would then be moved by barges to either Ostia or Rome to be stored in other warehouses and then distributed to other locations if needed. These warehouses were known as horrea.

The most well-known warehouse in Ostia is the Horrea Epagathiana & Epaphroditiana, constructed during the reign of Emperor Antoninus Pius. It, too, featured brick-faced concrete. Even the “columns” at the entrance portal and pediment above are constructed of brick, exhibiting a new 2nd century C.E. style where brick is appreciated for its own aesthetic value. Bricks were even shaped into volutes (scrolls) at the top of the column capitals, eliminating the need for carved stone.

Sign, Horrea Epagathiana & Epaphroditiana (photo: Klaus Heese, all rights reserved)

A marble inscription on the façade identifies the owners as Epagathiana and Epaphroditiana, two freedmen. Their warehouse held grain, one of the main trade commodities at this time. The façade featured a row of shops and the interior contained many storage rooms, a courtyard, an office, and two staircases leading to an upper story. While this is the best-preserved example, numerous warehouses could be found around Ostia and Portus.

Decline

Despite once being a major trade hub and thriving city with a population of as many as 100,000 people, Ostia declined in population and prosperity starting in the 400s and 500s C.E. when power shifted out of the city of Rome and to Constantinople in the east. The city was fully abandoned in the 9th century due to pirate attacks and a rise of malaria from mosquitoes found in the marshy areas of the river bordering the city.

Archaeological excavations have been ongoing since the 1930s, though less than one-third of the city has been unearthed. Today, the site functions as an open-air museum.

Left: Gold coin depicting Julia Domna (detail), part of a ceremonial vessel, 209 C.E.; right: Ceremonial vessel (patera, 25 cm in diameter) featuring gold coins of emperors and empresses of the Antonine and Severan dynasties. The central image has a mythological scene of Bacchus, the god of wine, and Hercules, a semi-divine hero. Found in 1774 at Rennes (Cabinet des Médailles, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris)

A traveling empress

On a journey to Britain, Julia Domna supposedly spoke to a Celtic queen about a scandalous topic: the love lives of Roman and Caledonian (Scottish) women. Ancient authors likely invented this conversation to make a point about women’s morality, but Julia Domna certainly visited Britain on one of the many trips she took across the Roman empire.

Locations mentioned in essay (underlying map © Google)

Portraits help us imagine what the residents of Britain and other regions saw: a woman with a dramatic profile and an extremely elaborate hairstyle. Historical sources describe her intellectual and cultural leadership, but Julia Domna’s own perspective is lost. We only know what others thought of her.

In Britannia (the Latin name for the Roman province of Britain), Julia Domna and her husband the Roman Emperor Septimius Severus were a long way from home. She had been born in Emesa (modern Homs, Syria) and he had been born in Lepcis Magna (modern Khoms, Libya). They married in 187 C.E., when he was a Roman general moving around the empire to govern different territories. After he was acclaimed emperor in 193 C.E., he became Rome’s first ruler from Africa (193–211 C.E.), and she became Rome’s first empress from Asia (193–217 C.E.). More than any prior imperial couple, they traveled together as Severus continued to make ceremonial visits and lead military campaigns.

Like many empresses, Julia Domna was honored with statues commissioned by local communities and on coins issued by the Roman Empire’s mints. As a result, her portraits have been found throughout the Roman empire and even beyond its borders.

Portrait of Julia Domna (from Ostia, Italy), c. 203–217 C.E., marble, 175 cm high (Museo Ostiense, Ostia, Italy, inv. no. 21; photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0). Excavated in 1939, near building IV.VII.II (Caseggiato della Fontana con Lucerna), Ostia

A portrait statue from Ostia, Italy

One of her best portraits comes from Ostia Antica, Rome’s port city on Italy’s western coast.

The empress stands in a balanced pose called contrapposto. If you look closely at her elegant clothing, you will see that a tunic gathers beneath her neck and pools around her sandalled feet, and a mantle wraps around her head and body. The folds of the fabric cast shadows up, down, and around the statue, and the drapery only reveals some parts of the body’s shape, such as the bent knee. The fabric was strategically sculpted to protect the limbs from breaking off by connecting the arms to the torso and the legs to the base.

Her face combines both real and ideal features. In the wrinkles running from the nostrils to the corners of the lips, there is a hint of age. Yet the broad forehead, smooth skin, and slight smile conform to general ideals of beauty, as do the enlarged eyes. Incised irises and pupils focus the empress’ gaze and give her a sense of presence.

Portrait of Julia Domna (with an earlier hairstyle), c. 193 C.E., marble, 29 cm high (Museo Ostiense, Ostia, Italy). Excavated in 1939, near the Temple of Roma and Augustus and the Forum Baths (I.XII.VI), Ostia

Her hair falls in separate crimped and braided sections, which are gathered in a bun (chignon) behind her head. She favored this style in the later years of her reign. A more fragmentary portrait from Ostia shows her earlier hairstyle, without the layered braids. Both hairstyles are thought to combine ornate wigs (the crimped and braided sections) and living hair (the small curls on the cheeks).

The full-length statue includes important symbols. A slightly damaged diadem is visible at the top of the head. The well-preserved hand holds wheat stems and poppies associated with Ceres, goddess of agriculture.

Romans covered their heads as a sign of piety during religious ceremonies, so here we see an empress honoring a goddess essential for Roman prosperity while also promoting the feminine virtue of fertility.

Head and hands (detail), Portrait of Julia Domna (from Ostia, Italy), c. 203–217 C.E., marble, 175 cm high (Museo Ostiense, Ostia, Italy, inv. no. 21; left photo: myglyptothek: Faces of ancient Rome; right photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0). Excavated in 1939, near building IV.VII.II (Caseggiato della Fontana con Lucerna), Ostia

Portrait of Sabina, 137–38 C.E., marble, 1.86 m high (Museo Ostiense, Ostia, Italy, inv. no. 25). Excavated in 1909, Palaestra, Baths of Neptune (II.IV.II), Ostia

The statue may seem unique, but the body could belong to any elite Roman woman. Another statue from Ostia depicts the empress Sabina (117–137 C.E.) with an almost identical body, but a different face and hairstyle. Such repetition was common: Roman portrait statues reveal a small range of ideal body types, with identities expressed in faces and dedicatory inscriptions.

A key part of Julia Domna’s statue monument is missing. The small circular base was intended to fit into a taller pedestal with a dedicatory inscription. Pedestals for Julia Domna survive at Ostia, and they would have elevated the statue far above the heads of viewers. The pedestals were not found with the portraits, however, so it is hard to know which ones belong together. Statues and pedestals often become separated when sites experience catastrophes and later urban development, as Ostia did.

The empress on coins

Portraits and names survive together on coins, which can help us identify who is represented in statues that have lost their dedicatory inscriptions. Scholars use coins as a kind of identification card for emperors and empresses, even though appearances varied across media and changed over time.

Left: Coin depicting Julia Domna, 196–211 C.E., silver, c. 1.9 cm (York Museums Trust), found in 2016 at Overton, near York; right: Coin depicting Julia Domna, 196–211 C.E., silver, c. 1.9 cm, excavated in 1930 at Mosul (© The Trustees of the British Museum, London)

Coins were the most widespread medium for transmitting imperial portraiture, and Julia Domna appeared on tens of thousands of them. One found near Eburacum (York, England), is labeled with the name Iulia (spelled with an I in Latin) and the title Augusta (used by Rome’s empresses).

The portrait captures Julia Domna’s distinct profile and elaborate hairstyling, with a chignon, ridged waves, and even the small curl on the cheek. Another coin excavated at Nineveh (Mosul, Iraq), shows the empress with the same appearance and title. Whereas Mosul was on a frontier contested by Iran’s Parthian Empire, York was where the Severans lived during their lengthy stay in Roman Britain (208–211 C.E.). These two locations, separated by 3,200 miles (5,150 km), show how far images of the empress could circulate.

Julia Domna’s facial features and intricate hairstyle can also be recognized on dolls, public monuments, and family portraits. These formats reveal how her image was used in Roman society, and we sometimes know by whom.

An empress doll

Dozens of dolls survive from the Roman empire, and a few resemble empresses. The one most like Julia Domna was found in a tomb at Tibur (Tivoli, near Rome).

Doll resembling Julia Domna, c. 200 C.E., ivory, 30 cm high (Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Massimo, Rome; left photo: Ryan Baumann, CC BY 2.0; additional photos by the author). Excavated in 1929 at Tivoli

The small figure was created with expensive materials: it was carved from ivory and wears a chain necklace, bracelets, and anklets crafted in gold. [1] The elongated body reveals the curved contours of the navel, stomach, and breasts. On the head, incised lines define the strands of hair as well as the irises and pupils of the eyes. The doll’s joints enabled dynamic movement, so that the miniature empress could be dressed and put in motion. Clothes would have been stored in the tiny amber box found in the same coffin.

The doll and the box may have belonged to a powerful priestess: near the coffin was a monument for Cossinia, who had been a Vestal Virgin in Rome.

Left: Northeastern façade of the tetrapylon honoring Septimius Severus, Caracalla, Geta, and Julia Domna, 203 C.E., stone (Khoms, Lepcis Magna, Libya; photo: Franzfoto). Excavated under Italian occupation, the collapsed monument is almost entirely reconstructed and includes replicas of the relief sculptures. The original sculptures have been housed in the local site museum and in the national archaeological museum in Tripoli. Right: Relief sculpture of Julia Domna and Geta from the northeastern façade of the Severan tetrapylon at Lepcis Magna, c. 203 C.E., stone, figures: 1.2 meters high (Jamahiriya Archaeological Museum, Tripoli, photo: William MacDonald). Excavated in the 1920s at Khoms (Lepcis Magna)

The empress on monuments

Julia Domna also appeared on several arch monuments, which was unusual for an empress. [2] A tetrapylon at Lepcis Magna depicts her repeatedly with her husband and their two sons (Caracalla and Geta). Her presence visibly ensures the family harmony necessary for a smooth transfer of power. In one fragmentary relief sculpture, she stands with her younger son Geta. Like the statue from Ostia, the relief sculpture depicts Julia Domna’s drapery and segmented hairstyle with different surface textures. The folds of her tunic and mantle, however, are deeper and more numerous here as they wrap around her turning body. This deep carving was an aesthetic preference and also made the figures more visible: this relief comes from the uppermost part of the monument.

The empress in color

A rare painting shows us Julia Domna, Septimius Severus, and their son Caracalla in full color. The painting’s original purpose is unknown, but it may have been used in a household shrine honoring the imperial family.

Severan Tondo, c. 200 C.E., tempera on wood, 30.5 cm diameter (Altes Museum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin; photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0). Purchased in 1932, no known findspot, but thought to be from Egypt

The artist followed the convention of depicting women and children with slightly lighter skin tones than adult men, but the image clearly captures Julia Domna’s dark eyes and hair. The painter used three shades of brown to represent the shape, texture, and volume of the hairstyle. Light and dark bands radiate away from her face, while visible brushstrokes in a middle shade are layered on top of them. These bands of unblended color capture a dynamic play of light and shadow that make the hair seem to shine and shimmer from a distance.

The painter also depicted elaborate jewelry for the empress: precious gems enrich the golden diadem, while pearls adorn the ears and neck. Aside from the ivory doll, which wears actual golden jewelry, such adornment rarely appears in sculpted portraits of empresses. Display contexts and social concerns about luxury may explain these differences.

The painting is important because it helps us imagine the coloring of Julia Domna’s stone portraits—tinting sculpture was common in the Mediterranean world. The painting also documents the family’s tragic reality.

When Septimius Severus died of ill health in 211 C.E (while the family was still in Britain), the two sons inherited power together. Arguments led Caracalla to execute Geta (allegedly in front of Julia Domna) and then to condemn remembrance of his brother (damnatio memoriae). This is the cause of Geta’s erasure from the painting. Coins depicting Geta nonetheless continued to circulate, and some sculpted portraits (such as those on the tetrapylon at Lepcis Magna) also escaped destruction.

The widowed empress and her death

Julia Domna’s prominence continued during Caracalla’s short reign (211–217 C.E.), and he even took the unprecedented step of leaving the seals of state in her hands when he traveled. This tangible power may explain why the widowed empress had the highly unusual honor of being named on several public monuments dedicated to her reigning son. The triumphal arch at Djémila (Cuicul), Algeria, is a good example.

Arch dedicated by the colony of Cuicul to Caracalla, Julia Domna, and the deceased Septimius Severus, Djémila, Algeria, 216 C.E. (photo: Carole Raddato, CC BY-SA 2.0). Reconstructed in 1922, during the French occupation

This political arrangement did not last long. Caracalla was murdered in 217 C.E., and Julia Domna died soon afterward, either from cancer or suicide. Her great-nephew Elagabalus, also of Syrian descent, eventually overcame usurpers to become emperor.

Mapping Julia Domna

By the end of her life, Julia Domna had lived in Syria, France, Italy, and Britain, and had traveled in eastern Europe, western Asia, and northern Africa. Even in places she had not visited, her image was present. Her portraits can now be found in museums around the world, but many come from the art market, and we do not always know where they were found.

The portraits from Ostia are especially valuable because they come from documented excavations, as do the coins from Rennes, York, and Mosul; the doll from Tivoli; and the relief sculpture from Lepcis Magna. [3]  Portraits with known findspots are ideal for understanding how the empire’s residents used these representations, and they are essential for seeing how far dynastic images spread across the Roman realm.

The octagonal plan references earlier churches and symbolizes regeneration. Was Charlemagne’s throne at its center?

Palatine Chapel (Aix-la-Chapelle), Aachen, begun c. 792, consecrated 805 (thought to have been designed by Odo of Metz), significant changes to the architectural fabric 14–17th centuries (Gothic apse, c. 1355; dome rebuilt and raised in the 17th century, etc.), mosaics and revetment from the 19th century, columns looted by French troops in the 18th century though many were later returned, added back without knowledge as to their original locations in the 19th century. The structure was heavily damaged by allied bombing during WWII and significantly restored again in the second half of the twentieth century. With special thanks to Dr. Jenny H. Shaffer. Speakers: Dr. Steven Zucker and Dr. Beth Harris

Carolingian art and the classical revival

The Palatine Chapel at Aachen is the most well-known and best-preserved Carolingian building. It is also an excellent example of the classical revival style that characterized the architecture of Charlemagne’s reign. The exact dates of the chapel’s construction are unclear, but we do know that this palace chapel was dedicated to Christ and the Virgin Mary by Pope Leo III in a ceremony in 805, five years after Leo promoted Charlemagne from king to Holy Roman Emperor. The dedication took place about twenty years after Charlemagne moved the capital of the Frankish kingdom from Ravenna, in what is now Italy, to Aachen, in what is now Germany.

Map with present-day nations (underlying map © Google)

In the construction of his chapel, Charlemagne made several strategic choices that linked his building to the legacies of ancient Rome and the fourth-century emperor Constantine. The Emperor Constantine was important because he was the first Christian emperor of Rome. The location for the new building was selected because it was an historic Roman site with hot springs that were used for bathing. The materials used for the chapel also invoked Rome; among them were columns and marble stones that Pope Hadrian permitted Charlemagne to transfer from Rome and Ravenna to Aachen around the year 798. A relic of the cloak of St. Martin was installed in the church at its consecration—the choice of a fourth-century Roman soldier who had a vision of Jesus after sharing his cloak with a beggar was another way to reinforce the link of Charlemagne’s rule with Rome.

Floorplans of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem; Basilica of San Vitale, Ravenna; and Palatine Chapel, Aachen

Two important models (the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and San Vitale in Ravenna)

The chapel’s classical style also referenced its Roman imperial lineage, particularly in its imitation of two significant Christian buildings: the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and San Vitale in Ravenna. The Holy Sepulchre’s building program was started in 325 C.E. by Constantine’s mother, Saint Helena, and completed in 335. The centralized plan and surrounding ambulatory and upper gallery is echoed in the plan of the Palatine Chapel. However, the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem is composed of two main buildings—in addition to the rotunda that covers the tomb is a similar structure over the traditionally-accepted location of the crucifixion. The Holy Sepulchre may also have been the inspiration for the lion-head knockers of the chapel’s bronze doors (below).

Door (detail), Palatine Chapel, Aachen (photo: Bojin, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Because it didn’t receive extensive additions like the Holy Sepulchre, the San Vitale Chapel at Ravenna is probably the best comparison for what the Palatine Chapel would have looked like before its Gothic renovations. San Vitale is a small octagonal church, with a centralized plan and a two-story ambulatory (below).

San Vitale, Ravenna, begun in 526 under Ostrogothic rule, consecrated in 547, completed 548

The octagonal plan of the Palatine Chapel (see plans above) not only recalled that of its two most significant models, but also participated in the tradition of early Christian mausoleums and baptisteries, where the eight sides were understood to be symbolic of regeneration—referencing Christ’s resurrection eight days after Palm Sunday. Its original dome was also based on classical models and bore an apocalyptic mosaic program, consisting of the agnus dei, or Lamb of God (which is, symbolically, Jesus Christ), surrounded by the tetramorph (symbols of the four Gospel writers) and the twenty-four elders described in Revelation 4:4. The agnus dei image was later obstructed by the installation of a chandelier.

Palatine Chapel interior (photo: Velvet, CC BY-SA 3.0)

The octagonal centralized plan of the Palatine Chapel is unique among Carolingian chapels; this may have been because, unlike a longitudinal plan which created a sense of processional direction toward the apse and altar, a centralized plan did not place special emphasis on the altar (and therefore may not have been as effective liturgically for the purpose of a chapel). That said, it does seem to have established an association of Charlemagne with Christ; some scholars believe that Charlemagne’s marble throne (below) was originally located in the center of the octagon on the first floor, that is, directly below the image of the agnus dei, thereby creating a kind of visual link between the emperor and the Christ.

Charlemagne’s throne, Palatine Chapel, Aachen (photo: Berthold Werner, CC BY-SA 3.0)

By presenting his capital at Aachen as a new Rome and himself as a new Constantine through the careful appropriation of late antique artwork and architecture, Charlemagne was not simply making a positive assertion about himself as ruler; he was also implicitly contrasting his reign with that of the Eastern Empire (the Byzantines), a negative stance that was also expressed around the same time in the Opus Caroli Regis contra Synodum (i.e., “The Work of King Charles against the Synod), a detailed response to the Second Council of Nicaea, written on his behalf by Theodulf of Orléans.

Europe before 774 (underlying map © Google)

Palatine Chapel exterior, Aachen, consecrated 805, Carolingian structure visible (lower two stories) (photo: CaS2000, CC BY-SA 3.0)

Charlemagne’s body was interred in the Palatine Chapel after his death in 814. The building would continue to be used for coronation ceremonies for another 700 years—well into the sixteenth century.

Major additions to the chapel began in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, significantly changing the building’s profile and footprint with exterior chapels. After several fires in the seventeenth century, the dome was rebuilt and heightened.

“Chamber Of The Sphinx,” rediscovered in 2019, Domus Aurea, Rome (photo: Parco archeologico del Colosseo)

Rediscovery

The air was frigidly cold, and the space narrow, low, and dirty. It was also completely dark except for the torchlight that made fantastical creatures come alive on the walls. These are the conditions under which the luxurious palace of the ancient Roman Emperor Nero (known in Latin as the Domus Aurea, or Golden Palace) was explored during the Renaissance. Beginning in the 1480s, more than a millennium after it was built, explorers crawled through the rooms. This was often painful, and yet also incredibly exciting, and visitors would often bring food with them to picnic in the depths of the structure. We can still get a sense of the high ground level they experienced as they crawled through these spaces thanks to a portion of the palace discovered in 2019, the so-called “Chamber of the Sphinx.”

The Domus Aurea once contained 300 rooms, grand gardens, an artificial lake, and even a rotating dining room. The palace complex spanned at least 50 hectares (123 acres) in the heart of the city of Rome. Though it was the most opulent imperial place constructed at that time, much of it was destroyed when the emperor Nero’s suicide resulted in a year of chaos before the Flavian emperors seized control and restored stability. At that time, the upper levels of Nero’s palace were destroyed and the lower levels were filled with earth. The abandoned palace later became the foundation for Baths built by the Emperor Trajan. It was these earth-filled rooms that people would crawl through.

Legend has it that the remains of the palace were discovered by a young boy who fell into what he described as painted caves. Though it is unknown who exactly was the first to start properly exploring this space, it quickly drew the attention of many notable Italian figures from the 15th and 16th centuries, including Michelangelo, Raphael and his apprentice Giovanni da Udine, painter Domenico Ghirlandaio, and author Casanova, among others. Many of these visitors carved their names into the walls and ceilings, making it easy to identify some of the explorers.

Initially, this structure was misidentified as the “Palace of Titus;” it is adjacent to the Bath complex built by Emperor Titus (78–80 C.E.).  Raphael is often credited for correctly identifying the complex after he visited in 1514.

Holes from Renaissance explorers in the ceiling of the “Golden Vault” and graffiti with Renaissance explorers’ names. Domus Aurea, Rome, 65–68 C.E. (photo: Jessica Mingoia, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Explorers in the 15th and 16th centuries traveled through what seemed at the time like a labyrinth of rooms and corridors. In some places, the debris was so high that they tunneled through walls to access other rooms, causing extensive damage along the way. Because there was no known entrance into the structure at the time, tunnels were cut through vaulted ceilings, damaging the ancient structure. Visitors would then lower themselves through the ceiling using ropes and pulleys. These holes are still recognizable in the ceilings today, such as in the so-called “Golden Vault,” which was one of the most popular rooms to visit. The cryptoporticus, or long vaulted passageway, was another frequently visited area.

Cryptoporticus, Domus Aurea,  65–68 C.E., Rome

Emergence of the grotesque

When the palace was discovered, most of the walls were hidden below ground, but explorers were able to get up close and personal with the ceilings. Because the painted vaulting had been cut off from air for so long, the frescoes and stuccoed ceiling designs were incredibly well preserved. The buried Domus Aurea was, of course, pitch black. The torches visitors carried made everything seem strange and mysterious and made the fantastical creatures in the wall paintings surrounding them appear to come alive. Because of this, the structure was quickly labeled a grotto, and it is from this term that grotesque is derived. Today we use the term “grotesque” to refer to a style of art featuring fanciful, ugly, bizarre, and/or mythical creatures or human forms of the sort found painted in the Domus Aurea.

Grotesques, Domus Aurea, Rome, Italy (photo: sébastien amiet;l, CC BY 2.0)

The frescoes of the Domus Aurea fall under what we now call the Fourth style of Roman wall painting, which became popular in the mid-1st century C.E. around the time that the palace was constructed. This was the most eclectic of the Roman wall painting styles, incorporating everything from thin colonettes, garlands, and candelabra, to mythical animals and creatures.

The walls and ceiling were divided into separate panels, sometimes bordered by architectural frames and at other times by delicate floral frames. Figures were often free-floating in the central space of these panels. Very little ancient painting was known prior to the rediscovery of this building, so it was especially fascinating to the people of Renaissance Rome. While there was great interest in unearthing ancient sculptures throughout the city (which quickly became part of wealthy families’ private collections), these typically no longer retained their once vibrant polychromy, so the vivid compositions of the palace were particularly intriguing.

Starting during the Italian Renaissance, artists imitated the grotesque motifs, figures, and framing devices found on the ancient walls of the Domus Aurea with compositions often containing candelabras, acanthus tendrils, and mythical creatures. These were not identical replications but rather new works heavily influenced by the frescoes discovered in the ancient palace. This was directly related to the fascination at the time with producing works all’antica, meaning “in the style of antiquity”, an Italian term applied to works that revived and incorporated the styles of ancient Rome. The grotesque was just one of the ways artists emulated the characteristics of classical antiquity.

Though this began in Italy, thanks to trade and colonization, the all’antica spread over time becoming a global phenomenon. While these grotesque motifs (grotteschi) appeared in a variety of works of art, two Italian Renaissance examples in particular are especially notable for their similarities to the Domus Aurea.

The Stufetta of Cardinal Bibbiena

The impact of the Domus Aurea frescos can be seen first in The Stufetta of Cardinal Bibbiena, constructed in the Apostolic Palace of the Vatican in 1516. This was the first time that grotesque  forms were used to decorate an entire room since antiquity. The Cardinal was a lifelong supporter of the arts and friends with Raphael, who designed the stufetta, or warm bathing room. Raphael’s pupil, Giovanni da Udine, also had a hand in the design and execution of the washroom.

Initially, Raphael was not drawn to the Domus Aurea. However, Giovanni da Udine convinced Raphael to visit the structure in 1514 and eventually take up grotesque forms himself. Giovanni, who was especially fascinated with the Domus Aurea and the techniques of the ancients, succeeded in recreating the ancient Roman technique for stucco, using white travertine, lime, and powdered white marble.

Arcuated niche, Stufetta of Cardinal Bibbiena, 1516, fresco (Apostolic Palace in the Vatican, public domain)

The main color used throughout the Stufetta of Cardinal Bibbiena is red, a color used more sparingly in the Domus Aurea. Though no one yet knew it at this time, this particular shade of red (comprised of a red ochre with high iron oxide content), would later be found in abundance in the ancient cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, eventually earning it the name “Pompeiian Red.”

This corresponds to a fresco in the Stufetta. Attributed to Giulio Romano, Venus and Cupid, red chalk over stylus underdrawing, 21.1 x 17.2 cm (Royal Collection Trust)

As in the paintings of the Domus Aurea, the walls were divided into separate panels by architectural frames or delicate garlands. Some frames depict mythological scenes from Ovid while others feature free-floating grotesques.

Despite being constructed for a Catholic Cardinal at the Vatican, the room was filled with erotic, pagan imagery. There are playful nymphs and satyrs, aroused and nude mythological figures, and multiple details from the life of Venus, the Roman goddess of love, including her birth and a later image of her with Cupid and dolphins. Other panels include winged putti and mythological creatures interspersed with real animals and other pagan deities.

Cardinal Bibbiena, who was also a risqué playwright, chose to emulate these sensual and sometimes bawdy images without censorship. Even in the context of the Vatican, erotic grotteschi appear because these images help emulate the all’antica, that desire to imitate the style of the ancient Romans as closely as possible. However, these images were still relegated to a private bathroom and not on public view. Despite this, many of the more salacious images were destroyed or replaced in later eras.

Overhead view of stuccoed and painted vaulting, “Hall of Achilles,” Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. © ERCO GmbH

Frescoes continue on the ceiling. The back wall contained an arcuated (arched) niche shaped like a seashell, which was often used in Roman architecture in apses and niches, especially grottos, fountains, and other water features. A similar, but much larger, seashell shaped apse ceiling was found in one of the rooms of the Domus Aurea, the so-called Hall of Achilles, a room explored in the Renaissance.

Raphael, Loggetta of Cardinal Bibbiena, 1517, fresco, Vatican (public domain)

The Loggetta of Cardinal Bibbiena

One year later, in 1517, Raphael and Giovanni created the frescoes for Cardinal Bibbiena’s Loggetta, or loggia, which is a covered corridor also located in the Apostolic Palace at the Vatican. Raphael is credited with the overall design while Giovanni is responsible for working on individual motifs. This corridor, in particular, imitated the cryptoporticus (long, covered hallway) of the Domus Aurea. Just like in the ancient structure, the walls and vaults are covered with frescoes divided into separate panels each containing a candelabra, grotesque, or other free-floating figures framed by delicate colonettes. Garlands and plant tendrils connect the framing devices to the grotesques in the middle. Despite the varied nature of the motifs within the fresco, it is well organized and symmetrical.

Giovanni da Udine, Loggetta of Cardinal Bibbiena, 1517, fresco (Apostolic Palace in the Vatican)

As with the cryptoporticus, the dominant wall color of the Loggetta is white. It also features a groin vault, as in the Domus Aurea, and each section of the vault contains a different vignette from the myths of the Greek god Apollo. One side of the Loggetta featured three windows which allow natural light to flood the passageway. At each end of the corridor is a doorway, above which is a seashell, also derived from what was seen in the Domus Aurea. Even in a space as light as the Loggetta, the seashell motif hearkens back to the concept of a grotto.

Raphael, Loggetta of Cardinal Bibbiena, 1517, fresco, Vatican

Unlike the Stufetta which contained only pagan images, the Loggetta contained a mix of grotesque and pagan figures combined with motifs from the Bible. There are a series of narrative scenes from both the Old and New Testament across the vaults, including the creation, the burning bush, and the Last Supper. The Loggetta seamlessly blends Christian imagery with grotesque beasts, delicate foliage, decorative candelabra, and real animals, like birds, snails, and mice. Though it may sound as if these motifs do not belong together, this space epitomizes how the grotesque could appear integrated alongside Christian religious imagery in a private context. The appropriateness (or lack thereof) of this iconographical pairing would receive much debate over the next two centuries.

The grotesques depict various figures, including symbols of the Four Continents, the Four Elements, the Four Seasons of the Year, the Zodiac Signs, as well as representations of various occupations, such as the work on the land, the gardening and also play. The Dining Room, Eating Room, Arabesque Room in the White Pavilion, Warsaw (The Royal Łazienki Museum in Warsaw)

The legacy of the Domus Aurea

Grotesque forms revived an appealing ancient heritage, but also offered a novel form of decorative expression. For Renaissance artists and collectors fascinated with anything ancient Roman, the rediscovery of the Domus Aurea was like striking gold. Until the rediscovery of Pompeii and Herculaneum in the 18th century, this was the largest assemblage of ancient Roman paintings that had been found.

The visual influence of the Domus Aurea was profound. Many of the painting motifs from the Domus Aurea would continue to appear in other artistic movements including Neoclassicism centuries later. Swirling plant tendrils and thin colonettes would not only make their way into other types of Renaissance paintings and engravings, but also frequently appear as a wallpaper motif in Neoclassical houses. With its grotto-like hallways and rooms, vibrant polychromy, mythical creatures, and fanciful vegetal motifs, the Domus Aurea captured the imagination of artists for centuries, making it as one of the most influential ancient Roman structures in the history of art.

The Cross of Cong (commissioned by Tairdelbach Ua Conchobair king of Connacht and high king of Ireland), 1123, oak core within cast bronze, rock crystal, gold filigree, gilding, silver sheeting, niello and silver inlay, glass, and enamel, 76 x 48 x 3.5 cm (National Museum of Ireland); speakers: Dr. Lauren Kilroy-Ewbank and Dr. Steven Zucker

Grotesque, “Chamber of The Sphinx,” Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. (photo: Parco archeologico del Colosseo)

Gold aureus of Nero, 66–67 C.E., 1.9 cm (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Hidden below the modern ground level of Rome lies the palace of the Emperor Nero (known as the Domus Aurea, the Golden House), one of the largest and most complicated Roman imperial complexes ever constructed. Roman emperors traversed its labyrinthine rooms and passageways, and centuries later the ruins were explored by renaissance artists. Today, excavations continue, and tourists can visit.

Nero (Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus), became the fifth Roman emperor in 54 C.E. at the age of sixteen. Following the model of emperors who reigned before him, Nero quickly engaged in building projects. This included public works projects, like his bath complex (the Thermae Neronis) in Rome, as well as the construction of numerous personal villas and palaces across Italy.

Decorative fresco from the Domus Transitoria on the Palatine Hill, Rome c. 60–64 C.E. (photo: dalbera, CC BY 2.0)

The Domus Transitoria

Prior to this time, the imperial residences within the city of Rome were located only on the Palatine Hill in the heart of the city overlooking the Roman Forum, the key political, ritual, and civic center of the Empire. In fact, the modern term “palace” derives from the Latin name for the hill (collis palatium). Augustus, the first emperor of Rome, and his wife Livia both had houses on the Palatine. The second emperor, Tiberius, is said to have created a new residence, the so-called Domus Tiberiana, which was also used by the third and fourth emperors, Caligula and Claudius. These palaces were not originally connected to one another.

Around 60 C.E., Nero began to construct the Domus Transitoria, which means “house of transition,” a project which would connect all of the existing imperial buildings into one large, continuous structure. The goal of this project was also to extend the boundaries of the palace down into the valley just east of the Roman Forum (in Latin, the Forum Romanum) and across to the Esquiline Hill (see map below), where there were expansive and opulent imperial gardens (horti).

The great fire

Construction was well underway when, on the night of July 18th 64 C.E., a massive fire broke out in the valley of the Circus Maximus in Rome. The fire raged for approximately 10 days, destroying many areas of the city. The worst damage occurred in the center of the city where everything from homes to temples were destroyed. Most of Nero’s Domus Transitoria was lost in the blaze.

Nero helped to organize numerous relief efforts, such as providing funds for the removal of destroyed structures, coordinating food and temporary lodgings for those who were displaced, and enacting safety reforms and new fireproofing laws to attempt to prevent or limit further tragedies. Though he was staying at a seaside villa at the time of the fire (and not playing the fiddle in Rome as has often been incorrectly stated), he did capitalize on the fire and used it as an opportunity to purchase large quantities of public land in the city center.

Overhead view of stuccoed and painted vaulting, “Hall of Achilles,” Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. (photo: © ERCO GmbH)

Nero’s Golden Palace

With this new land under his control, Nero began construction of his golden palace, the Domus Aurea. As Nero had always hoped, the palace and its associated gardens stretched from the Palatine Hill, across the valley, and up onto the Esquiline Hill, spanning at least 50 hectares in the city center. The result was the most opulent imperial palace constructed at the time, with approximately 300 rooms, manicured gardens, a private bath complex, and even an artificial lake. In addition, there was a 120-foot colossus of the emperor in sparkling, gilded bronze in an entrance vestibule to the complex. The complex also included expansive parklands which were open to the public. This sprawling compound profoundly altered the landscape of the city center.

Location of the Esquiline wing excavations indicated in red within some of the areas of the Domus Aurea, Rome. The palace also extended onto the Palatine Hill, but the exact borders are unknown.

Cryptoporticus, Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. (photo: Jessica Mingoia, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

The most substantial archaeological evidence of the Domus Aurea today is found on the Esquiline Hill. This portion of the complex contains over one hundred rooms including a grotto, multiple dining rooms, a long cryptoporticus (covered corridor), and two large courtyards, one of which was pentagonal. The surviving remains of the Esquiline wing only provide hints of the original grandeur of the complex. The upper levels of this wing were intentionally leveled after Nero’s death, so the rooms that remain include only the lower floors and service levels. However, even these areas express the lavish design of the project and the attention to detail which was paid to all areas of the complex.

The painter Famulus and his team of assistants painted much of the vast complex in what we now call the Fourth style of Roman wall painting. Pliny the Elder wrote that the project was so consuming that Famulus was not able to work elsewhere. The majority of these frescoes had white backgrounds, though the background color used seems to have depended in part on the importance of the room. The painted compositions were often divided into different panels, sometimes enclosed by delicate floral frames, other times with thicker architectural features containing figures or smaller illusionistic panels free-floating in the central space. Some of the most opulently decorated rooms had walls clad in marble instead of fresco. Most of the ceilings were finished in stucco that was then painted or gilded.

The architects for the palace were Severus and Celer. With so much land to work with and Nero’s seemingly endless funds, they had the ability to be inventive and created a grand complex worthy of an emperor.

Severus and Celer, Octogonal Room, Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. (photo: Parco archeologico del Colosseo)

The Octagonal Room

One of Severus and Celer’s greatest architectural achievements and likely the most recognizable room in the Domus Aurea today is the Octagonal Room. As its modern name suggests, the room starts as an octagon at the bottom of the walls before transitioning into a hemispherical dome above. Three sides of the octagon face the exterior of the structure, overlooking the gardens in the valley below the hill, while five rooms radiate off of the other sides of the octagon.

oculus (detail), Severus and Celer, Octagon Room, Domus Aurea, Rome, 65–68 C.E. (photo: Fred Romaro, CC BY 2.0)

Light entered the space through an oculus (an opening) in the center of the dome. The architects also created gaps on the side of the hemispherical dome which were open to the sky and allowed light to stream into the neighboring rooms. Incredibly, the weight of the dome above is supported only by piers between each of the doorways. This room is a prime example of innovative Roman architecture. The use of concrete instead of stone allowed for the construction of the broad open spaces of the Octagonal Room. This structural concrete was hidden behind decorative marble or it was painted.

What remains today is only a shell of the former room. In antiquity, the walls and floor were clad in marble, and the dome plastered with stucco decorations and painted. The architectural ingenuity that made the vast open space of the Octagonal Room possible was hidden from view, so that guests were left only with the impression of a grand dining room seemingly unencumbered by columns or other supports.

Severus and Celer, Nymphaeum of Polyphemus, Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. (photo: © ERCO GmbH)

The Nymphaeum

Often called the Nymphaeum of Polyphemus, the Domus Aurea also contained an intimate barrel-vaulted grotto (cave-like) space, which offered a more intimate dining alternative to the Octagonal Room. The concrete walls and floor were clad in marble and the corners of the side walls and lunette (the semi-circular space at the end of the vault) were lined with seashells. Water sparkled as it fell over a staircase on the back wall and fed into a small horseshoe shaped water-basin in the center of the room. The walls contained niches for statuary. 

Medallion showing a scene from The Odyssey, Nymphaeum of Polyphemus, Domus Aurea, 65–68 C.E. (photo: Jessica Mingoia, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

The barrel-vaulted ceiling was covered in reddish-brown pieces of pumice, designed to look like small stalactites, inserted into stucco. This is interrupted only by five mosaic medallions, the center of which featured a scene from The Odyssey of Homer, depicting the Greek hero Odysseus serving wine to Polyphemus (the cyclops son of Poseidon in Greek mythology who lived in a cave), a theme often found in dining grottos and nymphaea. The room was quite dark, with the only light source coming from a hallway open to the sky just outside the room. The overall effect was that of a seaside cave with a waterfall and pool, providing a cool, dark retreat from the heat of the Roman summer.

Rotating dining room

The most infamous room within the Domus Aurea is Nero’s rotating dining room, which was described by Suetonius, a Roman historian and biographer:

There were dining-rooms with fretted ceilings of ivory, whose panels could turn and shower down flowers and were fitted with pipes for sprinkling the guests with perfumes. The main banquet hall was circular and constantly revolved day and night, like the heavens.Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars, Nero, 31

In 2014, the location of this famed room was found on the Palatine Hill, hidden inside a platform constructed by Nero’s successors. Though the dining room itself no longer exists, the 12-meter high tower structure made up of pillars and arches that once supported the room does. Excavations also show that the tower was powered by water-driven mechanisms and gears which allowed the room to gently rotate while diners were treated to a panoramic view of Rome. It, too, spoke to the advanced architectural and engineering skills of Severus and Celer and to Nero’s desire to create the grandest palace Rome had ever seen.

Suetonius claimed that Nero stated he at last felt like he could live like a human being in this palace.

Faces of Ancient Europe: Wonders of the Domus Aurea (Paintings from the Nero’s Golden House)

The palace destroyed

Work on the Domus Aurea was never completed. In 68 C.E., Nero elected to commit suicide rather than be condemned to death by the Roman Senate, bringing the Julio-Claudian dynasty to an end. What followed was the so-called “year of the four emperors,” some of whom lived in the Domus Aurea. However, once the dust settled and the Flavian dynasty was established, they immediately sought to distance themselves from Nero, whose megalomania had grown prior to his death.

This political strategy included destroying the Domus Aurea. Although the Palatine Hill remained the preferred site for imperial palaces, the land in the valley reverted to the public. The Flavians filled in Nero’s artificial lake and constructed the Colosseum (known at the time as the Flavian amphitheater) on top of it. The rotating dining room was razed and a retaining wall was built to enclose the remaining portions of the structure.

View of the unexcavated “Chamber Of The Sphinx,” rediscovered in 2019 (photo: Parco archeologico del Colosseo)

The remains of the palace on the Esquiline Hill were also abandoned. The upper portion of the structure was destroyed and the lower level rooms were filled in with soil. These later formed the foundation of the Emperor Trajan’s bath complex built in the early 2nd century C.E. This portion of the Domus Aurea remains the best preserved thanks to the baths above, containing a porticoed garden and more than 100 rooms, including the Nymphaeum of Polyphemus and the Octagonal Room.

From Altair4 Multimedia Archeo3D Production

Rediscovery and today

Much of the memory of the Domus Aurea faded over time. In fact, its rediscovery was completely accidental. Around 1480, a young boy fell through a hole on the Esquiline Hill into the structure and saw what he described as painted caves. Though no one yet knew that this was the Domus Aurea, it quickly garnered attention and led to many exploring the labyrinthine structure, including the artist Raphael, who is often credited with correctly identifying the structure as the remains of Nero’s golden house. Because the frescoes and stuccoed ceilings had been underground and cut off from air for so long, they were remarkably well-preserved.

Today, due to the intense humidity underground in the structure, many of the frescoes have since faded. Scientific archeological excavations did not begin in earnest until the late 20th century and the Esquiline site officially opened to visitors in 1999. Many more rooms have since been uncovered, with the latest discoveries occurring in 2019. Most of the current work on the site is focused on conservation of the archaeological remains.

The structure is under immense strain from the weight of the earth, trees, gardens, and other structures atop it. Some of the roots of the trees above have weakened the structural integrity of many of the ceilings, making it impossible to remove them without damage. One of the goals of the “Colosseum Archaeological Park,” the cultural heritage agency which now manages the structure, includes working to lessen the weight of the park above to limit the chance of collapse of the structure below.