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Home , 430s, Byzantine mosaics, Charles Bayet, Galla Placidia, Martyrium, Port of Ravenna

Section d’histoire de l’art Seminář dějin umění

RAVENNA: SEDES IMPERII And Artistic Trajectories in the Late Antique Mediterranean (402–476)

Thèse de doctorat présentée à la Faculté des lettres de l’Université de Lausanne et à la Faculté des lettres de l’Université Masaryk de Brno pour l’obtention du grade de Docteur ès lettres

par

Zuzana Frantová

Directeurs de thèse Nicolas Bock (Université de Lausanne) Ivan Foletti (Université Masaryk de Brno)

2017

Prohlašuji, že jsem diplomovou práci vypracovala samostatně s využitím uvedených pramenů a literatury.

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Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION 5 Monuments of in Modern Scholarship 7 Methodology 13 EAST OR WEST? HISTORIOGRAPHICAL CONSIDERATIONS 19 Ravenna and in 21 Ravenna and Italian Nationalism 26 Orient oder Rom: - between East and West 28 Ravenna and Italian Fascism 35 Orient oder Rom Again 39 Summary 42

PART ONE: CREATION OF A NEW SEDES IMPERII 45 Port of Classe and Local Workshops 45 ARCHITECTURE 51 Founding Cities in 51 Ravenna in the Year 400 53 Production of Decorative Elements 55 Marble in Late Antiquity 58 Quarries 59 Negotiator marmorarius and Migrant Craftsmen 60 Marmorata 62 Pulvini and the Eastern Aesthetic 65 Sources of Inspiration: , , or ? 67 Summary 69 SARCOPHAGI 71 Local Production or Imports from Constantinople? 76 Discussion 78 The Ward-Perkins Model 81 The Russell’s Model 81 The Production of Sarcophagi 82 Production “to Stock” 83 Summary 86 GLASS TESSERAE 89 Glass Production in Late Antiquity 90 Secondary Production 93 The furnace in Classe 94 Tesserae production 95 Glass Production in Classe 98 Summary 101 IVORIES AND JEWELLERY 105 Volbach’s “School” of Ivory Carvers 107 Grouping Ravenna’s Ivories 110 Garnet cloisonné 112 The Origin 113 Production of Garnet cloisonné 115

Relations to Rome 117 Diplomacy 118 Ravenna: Centre of Production? 120 Summary 124

PART TWO: CHANGES OF AUTHORITIES 127 Ravenna’s Beginnings 128 Ravenna and Christianization of 130 The City Walls of Ravenna 134 Summary 135 (395–423) 137 Praise for Ravenna’s Defences 138 Ravenna versus Rome 140 Sedes imperii 144 Construction of the City 146 The Early Ravennate Churches 148 Ravenna and Constantinople 152 Efforts for Reunion the Empire 153 Halberstadt Diptych 154 Summary 160 VALENTINIAN III (425–455) 163 Ravenna after 425 164 Eastern Elites in the West 165 Galla 166 Church of John the Evangelist 168 of 171 and Rome 174 Emperor versus 177 Elevation of Ravenna’s Church 179 Summary 182 NEON (451–473) 183 of Neon 183 The Theological Dispute concerning Christ’s Dual Nature 186 The Tomus ad Flavianum and the Chalcedonian Confession of Faith 188 Ravenna and the Primacy of Rome 189 The Milan Five-Part Diptych 190 Neon’s Artistic Patronage and Rome 193 Summary 199 CONCLUSION 201 BIBLIOGRAPHY 205 Sources 205 Secondary literature 206 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 253 ILLUSTRATIONS 257

Acknowledgements

Through these lines, I would like to express my humble gratitude to the several people and institutions without whose help, support and friendship this thesis would not have been possible. In the first place my teacher and director of my thesis, Ivan Foletti, is a person to whom I am fully indebted. I have to start with thanks for sparking in me a passion for late antique art. He provided years of unfailing support and during my studies he guided me to a number of intriguing topics and I am grateful for sharing with me his vast knowledge of the ancient and the medieval worlds. I thank him for hours of his time spent with reading and discussing my text and for listening to and questioning my ideas. No words can express my gratitude for bringing my thesis to its conclusion. I have been fortunate to have an opportunity to conduct my research in co-tutoring with the second director, Nicolas Bock. I thank him for his guidance and advice he gave me especially at the moment when “losing the way”. His final remarks and suggestions were of great importance for the completion of my thesis and his impetuses were also important advice for the future. I would like to express my humble gratitude to the members of committee for their critical feedback during colloque de thèse in Lausanne. These are Michele Bacci, Carola Jäggi and Ondřej Jakubec. They all made me reflect deeper on my own approach and my debts to them are enormous. Of them I would like to thank especially to Ondřej Jakubec who unconditionally supported everything I and my colleagues wanted to realize during our studies. The most thought-provoking ideas which led me to write my thesis were born in the Center of Early Medieval Studies in Brno, which is a friendly place of encounters of inspiring people who are able to discuss together without any traces of academic hierarchy. In this sense the work I present is kind of collective collaboration and I am grateful to all of my colleagues and friends from the Center for always being willing to discuss my ideas and doubts and for encouragement in times of desperation. I would like to thank to all my colleagues and friends from Via Giorgio Vasari in Rome for the opportunity to spend over two thought-provoking years with them. These are Jana Čuprová, Janka Gazdagová, Ondřej Hnilica, Martin Jakubčo, Filip Kyrc, Martin Lešák, Kristýna Pecinová, Veronika Pichaničová, Sabina Rosenbergová, Pavla Tichá, Alena Vodáková and many others who came for a shorter or longer time. You all encouraged me greatly and made the period of writing this thesis something unforgettable. Of them I would especially like to thank to Alžběta Filipová for her friendship and for hours of discussion on our thesis writing simultaneously. At some moments, our researches touched and her impetuses were of great importance for the overall sense of my thesis. In addition, her inimitable charm and humour accompanied me throughout the years of research and it is

hard to imagine it without her. In the same sense I thank Karolina Foletti who with her generosity and immense amiability makes everything easier to achieve. My special thanks go to Klára Benešovská who was always willing to listen, discuss and to give me helping hand. For English proofreading and deft improvements of my work and their prompt availability I thank Adrian Hundhausen and Sean Mark Miller. Any possible mistakes are of my responsibility. My chance to spend the time of my research in Rome would not have been possible without the financial support of the Fondation Zerilli-Marimò. For the funding for travel over the years, I thank the Specific Research Fund of Masaryk University in Brno. There are many others who have helped me on many levels in the course of my research. My sincere thanks go especially to my parents and my sister with her family, and to Michal who has always been supporting in all I have wanted to achieve. And, finally, I owe the greatest debt of gratitude to those who have had to expend a huge dose of patience, care and love: Ondřej, Dorotka, Matouš and Matýsek. Thank You.

INTRODUCTION

It is said that the events that transformed Ravenna into one of the most important centres of the late antique West began in the year 402. Probably at the end of this year, the court of Emperor Honorius (395–423) relocated to Ravenna.1 The court’s transfer was supposedly a response to the Gothic threat after Milan, the former residence of the Emperor, threatened by Alaric’s troops, leading Honorius and his court to seek a safer refuge.2 He supposedly found it in Ravenna, a city in a strategic position, protected by marshes and lagoons.3

“The Emperor’s choice sparked a prolonged period of urban growth for a community which had not been prominent in earlier Roman history. Palaces were built, splendid churches were decorated, baths were opened, and the extent of the city’s boundary was greatly enlarged as people flocked to the new center of Western Empire. Honorius had inaugurated the season of Ravenna’s glory, and for the next four centuries the city remained a military, administrative, ecclesiastical, and demographic center of prime importance.”4

This description of Ravenna briefly summarizes the point of view that has formed the historical background for art historical studies until now. The idea that people “flocked to the new centre of Western Empire”, and the terms “caput”, “capitale”, “Hauptstadt” – repeatedly used in historiography – lead us to presume that the city continuously enjoyed the exceptional position of “” of the West, starting with the arrival of Emperor Honorius and his court in 402, and that western became permanent residents of Ravenna in that year. The local artistic production of high quality is then logically explained by the presence of the Emperor and his court.5 Ravenna is not called “caput Italiae”, however, until the ninth century. It is thus called in the ninth century by a high-ranking priest in the Ravennate church, Agnellus, in his Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis.6 An analysis of this source, so important for an understanding of the history and artistic production of late antique Ravenna, was recently conducted by Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis. Deliyannis clearly shows why Agnellus felt it necessary to compete with Rome: in the thirties of the ninth century, Ravenna’s church lost its

1 NERI 1990, p. 536. 2 More about Milan in late antique period in BERTELLI 1987; SENA CHIESA 1992. 3 , History of the Wars, Book V, pp. 16–18; REBECCHI 1993; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1990, p. 227; Eadem 1992; Eadem 1991/1992, p. 127; GELICHI 2000, pp. 109–110; 2001, p. 251. 4 SQUATRITI 1992, pp. 1–2. 5 This title was used e.g. by Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann (Ravenna: Hauptstadt des spätantiken Abendlandes): DEICHMANN 1958; Idem 1969/1; Idem 1974; Idem 1976; Idem 1989 and it was as well the title of the conference which took place in in 2004, subsequently published in 2005 under the title Ravenna, da capitale imperiale a capitale esarcale (where the term “capitale” is much questioned, esp. by MAZZA 2005 and by CHRYSOS 2005, pp. 1060–1062. Chrysos explains the title of the conference by words: “Central themes of congresses need to be clear and easy to understand and attractive to a wider audience and therefore they do not need to represent in an articulate way the scholarly content of the programme. In this sense the title (Ravenna. Da capitale imperiale a capitale esarcale) is clear and correct.” (p. 1060). See also FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1992; REBECCHI 1993. 6 “Et quod priscis temporibus angustiosa erat, idem [Valentinian III] ingens fecit, et iussit atque decreuit ut absque Rauenna esset caput Italiae.” Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 40.

5 autocephalous rights and became subordinate to Rome. Ravenna’s annexation to the regions which were directly under the control of the pope caused great indignation among clergy who had not yet given up the fight, and for whom Agnellus was a sort of spokesman. Agnellus reveals his anti-Roman attitude in his appreciation for the who opposed the Pope, and defamation of the bishops who collaborated with the Pope. Agnellus even deliberately based the concept and form of his Liber pontificalis itself on the Roman Liber pontificalis, with the intention of demonstrating Ravenna’s own and traditions, independent of Rome.7 Starting with Emperor’s relocation in 402, Ravenna indeed became a new city with all the dignity necessary for holding ceremonies demonstrating imperial authority. Evangelos Chrysos, however, posed a fundamental question: “was Ravenna the Capital and to what extent, in which fashion, and at whose cost?”8 He answers his question by asking another one: what did the word “capital” actually mean in Late Antiquity? Using the Thesaurus linguae latinae, Chrysos concludes that the combination of the two words “capital” and “city” first appeared in Italian in the sixteenth century, and that in , the word “capitalis” is never associated with the word “city”. The antique and late antique sources use the word “caput” for cities, but – and this is absolutely essential – this word is used exclusively for Rome and Constantinople. Chrysos highlights that the use of the word “caput” cannot be understood in the administrative, but only in a metaphorical sense, signifying literally the “head” of the Empire. From the administrative point of view, the term “sedes imperialis” was used for the seat of Emperor, but, as Chrysos emphasizes, the seat of the Emperor, not of the Empire. This seat did not need to be located in the largest city, indeed it needed not even be a city; it could also be just a camp where the Emperor decided to stay for a short or long period.9 Zosimos, the Byzantine historian living in Constantinople during the reign of eastern Emperor Anastasius I (491–518), writes of Ravenna as the “metropolis” (μητρόπολις) of Flaminia.10 The Thesaurus linguae latinae explains this term in late antique sources as: “urbs primaria, caput provinciae vel regionis, urbs materna”.11 Precise references to the status of “metropolis” are found in the : “ut singulis urbibus, quae metropoles nuncupantur”, “frequentissimis in civitatibus, quae pollent et eminent claritudine”,12 “metropolis vel splendidissimas civitates”.13 The word “metropolis”, on the other hand, was never used for Rome or Constantinople, so it seems that it much better and more accurately explains the true status and importance of late antique Ravenna, as well as distinguishing it from the two “real heads”

7 DELIYANNIS 2003, pp. 17–19. 8 CHRYSOS 2005, pp. 1060. 9 “Capitalis”, in Thesaurus linguae latinae, 1906–1912, coll. 343–347; “Caput”, ibidem, coll. 384–427; CHRYSOS 2005, pp. 1061–1062. 10 Zosimos, Hist. nov., p. 40 (French and Greek original). More on the secular administrative position of Ravenna in CARLÀ 2010, pp. 218–219 (pp. 138, n. 9 of this work) where the author uses the term “provincial capital” but again in the modern sense of the word. 11 “Metropolis”, in Thesaurus linguae latinae, 1936/1966, coll. 896–897. 12 Cod. Theod. 13, 3,11 cit. in “Metropolis”, in Thesaurus linguae latinae, 1936/1966, coll. 896–897. 13 Cod. Theod. 15, 1, 14, cit. ibidem, col. 896.

6 of the Empire. Key studies written in the last fifteen years by Valerio Neri, Andrew Gillet, Mario Mazza, Andrea Augenti etc. have highlighted the need to use the correct term in reference to Ravenna, and the need to reconsider the role Ravenna played in the period under study, i.e. the last century of the existence of Western (402–476). These studies show, inter alia, that the reasons for choosing Ravenna as the seat of Emperor were probably more than just strategic.14 Detailed analysis of written sources, conducted by Andrew Gillet in 2001, shows, however, that in the period studied, the Emperor resided in Ravenna much less than previously thought. The leading political and symbolic role was still held by Rome, which the Emperors of the fifth century regularly visited, and where they resided more often than their predecessors.15 The literary sources from this time do not describe Ravenna in panegyric terms worthy of the Emperor’s residence, but such terms were used profusely in later historiography.16 The above-mentioned historical studies attempt to evaluate the status of Ravenna within the political context of late antique society, and open up new opportunities for study.

Monuments of Ravenna in Modern Scholarship

The long modern era of archaeological excavations and intense interest in the monuments of Ravenna began with restoration works carried out following the Napoleonic pillaging (from the Italian campaign in 1796 to the formation of the Italian Kingdom in 1805). The birth of the Italian state in 1861, the foundation of important cultural institutions at the end of the nineteenth century, and even more pragmatic reasons, such as construction of a railway in 1881 prolonged those excavations and maintained interest. In the second half of the nineteenth century Ravenna’s monuments ceased to be the exclusive preserve of antiquarians and archaeologists, and became an important topic in the newly established field of , as well as becoming the subject of intense debate on the national character of art.17 The most important periodicals presenting the work of archaeologists, historians and art historians from Italy and from abroad with an interest in Ravenna’s history and its artistic production are: Ravenna (1911–) and proceedings of the conferences Corso di Cultura sull’Arte Ravennate e Bizantina (1956–1989). The founders of the former were major figures in Ravennate historiography: Corrado Ricci (1858–1934),18 (1877–1938)19 and

14 NERI 1990; GILLET 2001; MAZZA 2005; AUGENTI 2010. 15 GILLET 2001. For Rome as the main imperial residence, the most recent work is e.g. McEVOY 2010; HUMPHRIES 2003; Idem 2012; Idem 2015. 16 The authors of the surviving written sources from 440–476 are , and . 17 The best summary of pre-modern research in DAVID 2013/1, pp. 9–11. The scholarly interest in the art of Ravenna from the nineteenth century will be analysed in much more detail in the historiographical chapter of the present work (pp. 19–44). 18 Pasi, S., “Corrado Ricci”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1072–1075; EMILIANI 2004; Idem 2008 and pp. 22–23 of this work. 19 Romanelli, R., “Giuseppe Gerola”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 571–573.

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Santi Muratori (1874–1943).20 They were in charge of important state institutions in Ravenna (Museo Nazionale, Soprintendenza ai Monumenti di Ravenna, Direzione generale delle Antichita e Belle Arti, Museo Classense), and in this capacity they supervised major restoration works on Ravenna’s monuments. Later, in 1970, the journal became the responsibility of another outstanding scholar, Giuseppe Bovini (1915–1975),21 and of the Istituto di Antichità Ravennati e Bizantine dell’Università di that he had founded in 1963 as the first university institution in Ravenna. Under Bovini’s direction, the journal acquired the subtitle Rivista di antichità ravennati, cristiane e bizantina and like his predecessors, he became head of two important institutions, the Soprintendenza ai Monumenti and the Museo Nazionale. Starting in 1954, he convened an annual conference entitled Corsi internazionali di cultura sull’arte ravennate e bizantina and the proceedings of these conferences were published under the title Corso di Cultura sull’Arte Ravennate e Bizantina. Later, Raffaella Farioli successfully continued the work Bovini started and contributed decisively to the current image of Ravenna as the “city of ” and an important centre for the study of the Late Antique world.22 Any art-historical treatment of Ravenna’s monuments must also mention several other scholars more or less connected to the Bolognese school: Cristina Carile, Massimiliano David, Anna Maria Iannucci, Silvia Pasi, Laura Pasquini, Clementina Rizzardi, Eugenio Russo. These and many others will be referred to in my work. The German archaeologist and Byzantinist Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann (1909– 1993)23 is another fundamental addition to the historiography of Ravenna. Unlike Giuseppe Bovini, he did not teach and had no “direct followers”, but without knowledge of his research any examination of the Ravenna’s monuments is impossible. At the end of fifties, Deichmann felt the need to synthesise the large number of studies of Ravenna’s monuments that had appeared since the late nineteenth century. Between 1958 and 1989, Deichmann worked to fill this need with his five-volume work Ravenna, Hauptstadt des spätantiken Abendlandes.24 Deichmann’s research is one of the best tool for understanding the history of the city and its monuments, a basic resource which this thesis will often refer to. The work of Corrado Ricci, Giuseppe Bovini and his followers and Wilhelm Friedrich Deichmann are the milestones on which all traditional art historical research has been based on. Around the time Deichmann was publishing the last volume of Ravenna, Hauptstadt des spätantiken Abendlandes, Italian historians decided to catalogue Ravenna’s historiography in their own language. The series Storia di Ravenna (1990–1996), published under the direction of

20 DAVID 2013/1, p. 12. 21 DEICHMANN 1988; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1995/1; Eadem, “Giuseppe Bovini”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 225–227 and pp. 40–41 of this work. 22 Raffaela Farioli for example collaborated with Giuseppe Bovini and other scholars on Corpus of Ravennate (VALENTI ZUCCHINI/BOVINI/BUCCI/FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1968/1969; BOVINI / FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1969). She periodically hosted scholars from all over the world at Casa and is author of numerous monographs and papers on Ravenna’s monuments, much of them to be found in the bibliography of this work. 23 Russo, E. “Wilhelm Friedrich Deichmann”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 376–378. 24 DEICHMANN 1958–1989. The work contains five volumes and a portfolio of plates.

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Domenico Berardi and Gian Carlo Susini, gave those interested in the history of Ravenna more than just a non-German alternative to Deichmann’s work. The series’ six volumes contain historical, art-historical and archaeological studies from the Roman era up to the modern age. Two of these volumes are devoted to Late Antiquity. Further contributions came from the conference held in Spoleto in 2004 (whose proceedings were published a year later under the title Ravenna: da capitale imperiale a capitale esarcale25) and the conference organised by historians and archaeologists in 2006 as Ravenna tra Oriente e Occidente.26 Apart from these ambitious efforts towards a complex understanding of the city, there is another recent phenomenon in Italian historiography: the huge number of articles, monographs and conference proceedings relating to Ravenna have been gathered into several art-historical publications intended also for a wider, non-specialist audience.27 One of the principal aims of these publications is to combine updated art historical research with new archaeological excavations and written sources to provide an overview of the development of Ravenna, with a widened focus on all fields of artistic production, and thus to create a complex profile of the city. The authors of these publications differ in their emphases, their educational backgrounds, and their preferred languages. Among these publications are Ravenna in Late Antiquity by Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis,28 The Early Christian Monuments of Ravenna: Transformations and Memory (2011) by Mariëtte Verhoeven,29 Massimiliano David’s Eternal Ravenna: from the Etruscans to the Venetians (2013), Carola Jäggi’s Ravenna: Kunst und Kultur einer spätantiken Residenzstadt (2013),30 and most recently, Ravenna: Its role in earlier medieval change and exchange, edited by Judith Herrin and Jinty Nelson (2016).31 Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis highlighted the importance of publishing her book about Ravenna in English in order to make knowledge of Ravenna’s monuments more accessible.32 Ravenna in Late Antiquity (2010) focuses on the period of its greatest glory in the fifth and sixth centuries, but she also considers (in albeit abbreviated form) the wider background, from the origins of Ravenna in the third century BC to the time of Andreas Agnellus. Deliyannis gained familiarity with Agnellus’s manuscript while translating and critically re- evaluating it, and this has given her a unique background and enabled her to make a great contribution to the historiography of Ravenna. Only a year later, Mariëtte Verhoeven published her PhD thesis under the title The Early Christian Monuments of Ravenna: Transformations and Memory (2011).33 This author’s aim was different from that of Deliyannis. While Deliyannis aimed to combine archaeological and

25 Ravenna, da capitale imperiale 2005. 26 AUGENTI 2006/3. 27 A similiar effort was made in 1948 by Otto von Simson with his book Sacred fortress: and statecraft in Ravenna (SIMSON 1948). 28 DELIYANNIS 2010. 29 VERHOEVEN 2011. 30 JÄGGI 2013/1. 31 HERRIN/NELSON 2016. 32 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 19. 33 VERHOEVEN 2011.

9 historical research to provide a portrait of the city in the late antique period, Verhoeven focuses on the transformations and “appropriation” of the monuments throughout the centuries and the role they have played in collective memory. While research on individual monuments is restricted to a minimum, her innovative approach, applying concepts such as “cultural memory” to the historiography of Ravenna, is certainly an interesting and unique one.34 The book Eternal Ravenna: from the Etruscans to the Venetians by Massimiliano David (2013) reflects David’s specialist work in the field of late-antique urbanism.35 With his approach he put Ravenna into a much larger political, cultural and chronological context than usual. The book is not limited to the glorious period in the fifth and sixth centuries, but spans the whole length of the city’s history from the oldest finds dating to the sixth century BC to the moment when Ravenna became part of the in 1512. The book was simultaneously published in Italian, German, French and English by Brepols, one of the major publishers in the field, accompanied by high-quality images. Eternal Ravenna contributes to the recent research of Ravenna not only because of its longue-durée point of view but also because of its interest in topics which are often left at the margins in publications of this type, e.g. changing costal or the traces of Etruscan culture in the sixth century BC. For those seeking a real portrait of late antique Ravenna in all its aspects, Carola Jäggi’s Ravenna: Kunst und Kultur einer spätantiken Residenzstadt (2013) is essential reading.36 This author’s point of view is that of an art historian trained in classical, Christian and medieval archaeology. Jäggi not only describes the political events that gave rise to individual monuments, but also deals thoroughly with problems of topography and archaeology and explains some of the difficulties faced by archaeologists (especially the constant struggle with rising water levels). She does not avoid discussing the changes and re-appropriations which have affected monuments over the centuries, phenomena which are often overlooked by art historians focused only on monuments’ original appearance. Jäggi’s archaeological approach responds to the need to consider the longue durée of Ravenna’s monumental history and also enriches art historical debate with references to the work of German scholars whom Italian historiography sometimes ignores. Other contribution of Carola Jäggi37 appeared within the very recent publication Ravenna: Its role in earlier medieval change and exchange (2016), edited by Judith Herrin and Jinty Nelson. This work came out of a conference held at the Institute of Historical Research at University of London in 2013.38 The aim of this conference was, in words of the editors: “to seize new opportunities to get to grips with new evidence and/or apply new methods to

34 For her own explanation of the methodological approach see VERHOEVEN 2011, pp. 15–23. 35 DAVID 2013/1. 36 JÄGGI 2013/1. 37 Eadem 2016. 38 HERRIN/NELSON 2016.

10 interpret evidence old as well as new”.39 Various chapters cover political history, archaeological research, economic, religious and social history, and visual culture. Being a collection of essays written by seventeen different authors, it cannot provide the sort of consistent overview which a single-authored work offers, but the volume is a great indicator of where the study of Ravenna may be directed in the future, e.g. collaborative work by specialists from various countries interested in Ravenna’s history and open to interdisciplinary approaches crossing the borders of their own fields. Regardless the approaches of the individual works and their contributions to Ravenna’s historiography, they all refer to the most important interpretations as well as to the relevant bibliography. These summaries considering all artistic fields must be completed by monographs focused on individual monuments and their decoration. Such monographs contain the results of new archaeological excavations and archaeometric analyses,40 in some cases even when published to meet the demand for publications for a wider, non-scholarly public.41 In any thesis dealing with Ravenna’s monuments, one must consider the work of several prominent archaeologists. These are, among others, Andrea Augenti, Enrico Cirelli, Maria Grazia Maioli and Paola Novara.42 At this point, it is necessary to ask a fundamental question: How can my research contribute to the overall discourse? In other words, how can one write about Late Antique Ravenna without repeating what has already been said, and without merely compiling the results of previous research into a mere abstract or “corpus” of surviving monuments? This thesis will try to avoid that trap in several ways. Above all, I will closely focus on the period which, as a whole, has been examined the least – the period between the transfer of the imperial court to Ravenna (402) and the deposition of the last western emperor Augustulus by the Germanic commander (476). In art history, this period has been left in the shadow of more famous and attractive periods, such as the reigns of the Ostrogothic King Theodoric (493–526) or the Emperor Justinian (527–565). The essential contribution of this work will be to abandon the typical focus on monumental production alone. This monument-centred view of artistic production skews the history of this important late antique centre. From my perspective, when we write the history of Ravenna, it is equally necessary to consider the work of goldsmiths, ivory carvers and stonemasons. Despite the fact that we have less secure evidence for these sectors of craft production, studying the portable artefacts they produced can significantly help us to understand the complex history of the city. They offer insight into the attitudes of those who commissioned them, and help us to understand the multi-layered society, which supported

39 HERRIN/NELSON 2016, p. 4. 40 For example RIZZARDI 1996/1; DAVID 2013/3; MUSCOLINO/RANALDI/TEDESCHI 2011. 41 See for example the most recent work on Ravenna’s mosaics by Jutta Dresken-Weiland (DRESKEN- WEILAND 2016). 42 Apart of numerous important articles of these authors often cited in bibliography of this work on archaeology of Ravenna see especially CIRELLI 2008.

11 their production. The starting point of my research, but also its unifying thread, will be a presentation of the historiographical background against which the monuments of Ravenna have been studied up to now. I will dedicate considerable space to historiography, since I believe that historiography always defines and forms our understanding of artistic monuments. The first chapter of my work is therefore to be understood not as a “mandatory” introduction, comprehensively mapping out my interest in Ravenna’s monuments, but rather as a general overview of those monuments in the light of the main question that has accompanied their study since the beginnings of modern research in the nineteenth century: what was Ravenna’s position between East and West? Due to its geographical location on the Adriatic coast, Ravenna’s potential for mediating between East and West is indisputable. Nonetheless, even after a century of modern research, recent art historical studies have failed to convincingly identify “Roman”, “northern Italian” or “Byzantine” features in Ravenna’s artistic monuments, and these efforts are the subject of constant discussion and reassessment.43 This has led some present-day scholars to employ a more cautious and individual approach to interpreting each of Ravenna’s monuments.44 Personally, I am not convinced that this is better, since it results in Ravenna’s monuments being perceived as exceptional and isolated phenomena. My thesis is based on the conviction that we must study the monuments of Ravenna not as a closed, exceptional group, characterized by specific Ravennate features, but rather within the context of the broader late antique Roman world. I think that to study Ravenna’s art, one has to study the art of the late Roman Empire – an art that was “globalized” in the sense (among others) that workshops across the late Roman world used the same materials and were organized in the same way. The present work is divided into two main parts. In the first, entitled “Creation of a new sedes imperii”, we will look at the practical and material aspects of the individual crafts involved in constructing a new imperial residence. Its starting point will be the conviction that individual surviving examples of architecture, along with their decoration, sarcophagi, ivory and objects, can be best understood not only by examining their historical context and , but also through their own materiality. Thus we will focus primarily on craftsmen and their traditions – or on conscious breaks with those traditions, as well on the way workmen moved about the late antique world and thereby fostered the exchange and spread of technology and artistic models. Nor will we ignore the availability of materials and the way they were used, efficiently or otherwise. All of this can help explain the final appearance of individual monuments in places where traditional methods of art history, such as iconographic or formal analysis, might fail. Just as (I believe) it is necessary to study the material culture of Ravenna in the context

43 See especially Venezia e Bisanzio. Aspetti della cultura artistica bizantina da Ravenna a Venezia (V–XIV secolo) (RIZZARDI 2005/2). 44 Ibidem.

12 of the entire late antique world, so is it necessary to consider the development not only of Ravenna, but also of the other major centres in the Roman Empire. A broad reappraisal of the role of these centres, along with the art produced there, will form the basis of the second part of this work entitled “Changes of Authorities”. Individual Ravennate monuments, even those that have been most studied over the years, will be reconsidered in this broader context. The period studied – 402 to 476 – is relatively short. It cannot, however, be studied as an undifferentiated block when Ravenna was simply the “capital of the West”. The intentions of Emperor Honorius (and his powerful generals) differed from those of Emperor Valentinian III and his mother Galla Placidia (or of the eastern emperor Theodosius II), and the years when Bishop Neon was the principal authority in Ravenna (since the Emperor only intermittently resided there) must be considered independently as well. The theological and political change taking place throughout the Empire will thus be the context for more individualized interpretation of Ravenna’s monuments.

Methodology

Apart from my focus on all kinds of artistic production (and not just the monumental one) and my focus on a period, which has never been the subject of its own monograph, I hope that the major contribution of my work lies in the approach with which I want to examine Ravenna’s artistic production. Previous studies of the late antique monuments of Ravenna have tended to be delineated and compartmentalised by discipline. The above- mentioned, more recent books on the development of Ravenna have already shown that the traditional , tending towards stylistic and iconographic analyses and seeking the “right” interpretations of Ravenna’s monuments, has become less relevant. Ravennate studies have become part of international and multilingual art-historical discussions, a dialogue involving a wide range of experts from various fields and countries who present Ravenna as vibrant place. The title of the recent book Ravenna: Its role in earlier medieval change and exchange (2016) leads us to reflect on these new approaches and to take up the challenges offered by present-day art history.45 My research aims to be a further contribution towards overcoming a too-narrow focus on the city itself. I hope to be one of the scholars bringing Ravenna’s monuments into the narrative of history. Just as I consider it crucial to understand the background of Ravenna’s traditional historiography, so is it crucial to be conscious of the background to my own research. First of all, I write in a world which is globalized on many levels: through cultural mixing, migration

45 From this point of view the proceedings of workshop held at Columbia University in New York in March 2013 is much expected. The workshop with the title “Ravenna and the Traditions of Late Antique and Early Byzantine Craftsmanship: Culture, Labor and the Economy” was directed by Salvatore Cosentino. Its goal, much close to mine, was to “consider patronage, social taste, acculturation, workers and the economic industry of production which supported the demand, circulation and distribution of artifacts, rather than evaluating the artistic qualities of the objects themselves.” (http://italianacademy.columbia.edu/event/ravenna-and-traditions- late-antique-and-early-byzantine-craftsmanship-culture-labor-and).

13 of people, technologies, and political and cultural interconnections. I have received guidance at Masaryk University in Brno and the University of Lausanne, but much of my research was conducted in Italian libraries. I am part of the Center for Early Medieval Studies in Brno and one of the supervisors of my thesis is Ivan Foletti, head of that Center. I am fully aware that my work fits with the collective goal of the Center: to answer questions about trans-national circulation of people and ideas, and about the connections between different places and cultures. This trans-cultural approach is, we believe, essential for understanding dialogue and conflicts between civilizations, in the past as well as in the present. My research, or more precisely its methodological definition, is essentially than result of several years of collective work in this inspiring milieu. We all try to avoid concepts such as “western” or “eastern”, “Roman” or “Constantinopolitan”, “local” or “imported” – all concepts which, in more traditional research, are understood as if there were no relationships between them or even as contradictory. We all are aware that we are part of a globalised world, that our approach to art and history is necessarily determined by this fact, and that we risk extrapolating our experiences of the modern globalised world into the past. Nonetheless, the results of the archaeometric analyses which now form a part of art history, and recent advances in archaeology, both generally support our global conception of the Roman world. These new techniques enable us to study trans-national movements, especially of materials. The study of material exchanges should not be confused with the concept of “influence”, often used to argue why something should be considered “local”, “Ravennate”, “Italian” or “western”. This concept of “influence” leads to a hierarchic conception of artistic production where the “periphery” depends on the “centre” – a topic much discussed in art history for decades.46 From my point of view, this global understanding of art requires material examination of artefacts and a unified approach where questions of trans-cultural and trans-national exchange remain at the forefront. This approach is not entirely innovative: I have found inspiration in the life work of two extraordinary scholars: Enrico Castelnuovo (1929–2014)47, a representative of social art history, and Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann (1948–), a scholar who conceives art history globally and is a proponent of the so-called geography of art (geohistory).48 Enrico Castelnurovo was convinced that art (like any other human activity) exceeds the limits and boundaries that mark out territories. Empires have borders, and cities have walls, but there are no geographical limits to iconography, or style, or to how models might be transmitted. As a promoter of the social history of art, Castelnuovo was one of those who attempted to bring social context into the interpretation of art history, but also to make the research as interdisciplinary as possible. The author best explained his approach in Per una

46 Fundamental work on this topic is CASTELNUOVO/GINZBURG 1979. The best historiographical analyze of this concept within artistic geography is KAUFMANN 2004, pp. 89–104. 47 Recent evaluations of Castelnuovo’s research after his death in 2014 are LACLOTTE 2014; PICCININI 2014; TOMASI 2015. 48 For the reflection on related terms such as Histoires croisées, Entangled or Connected Histories, Global History, Transnational History and New World History see DOSSIN/JOYEUX-PRUNEL/KAUFMANN 2015, p. 15.

14 storia sociale dell’arte (1976, 1977) and La Frontiera nella storia dell’arte (1987). Michel Laclotte, in his obituary of Enrico Castelnuovo, cited a phrase used by Castelnuovo during a lecture at the University of Lausanne. It is a phrase which clearly articulates his convictions regarding the aim of the social history of art:

“To determine as clearly as possible the conditions of production and artistic creation seems to be the only efficient method of approaching the two principles – tradition and exchange – which regulate the long course of the history of art.”49

His concept of “the frontier of art history”, and his interest in the pragmatic materiality of artefacts, when applied to our field of study, would make it difficult to clearly define “Ravenna’s art”. With his focus on the role of centre and periphery in the circulation of art and his reflections on the creation of borders, both real and conceptual, Castelnuovo contributed much to the so called geography of art (artistic geography).50 This approach has been clearly formulated and further developed by Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann, professor at Princeton University.51 That part of his work which focuses on the global aspects of artistic circulation, within a historical materialist perspective, has been the most inspirational for my own research.52 Kaufmann understands material conditions as not only the materiality of the artefacts themselves, but also the conditions in which they are produced. He is convinced that to understand these conditions means to understand artistic circulation.53 His great historiographical essays on the development of these concepts explains where they are rooted: in the of nineteenth century and in the works of antinationalist intellectuals, critics of the categorisation of art according to nation-states and national styles (perceived as the output of specific nations). This cosmopolitan view was presaged in the writings of Lucien Febvre (1878–1956) and Marc Bloch (1886–1944), the founders of L’École des Annales at the end of 1920s.54 Kaufmann’s research shows that what is commonly called “culture” is, in fact, the result of never-ending transformation and adaptation of thoughts. In his own words:

“Hence, only an understanding of history as an outcome of the continuing circulation of materials, people, and ideas can escape from the hypostasis of cultural entities such as ‘Western and non-Western’”.55

The first part of this work, therefore, will apply social and global history, in the style of

49 “Concrétiser dans la mesure du possible les conditions de la production et de la "création" artistique nous semble la seule méthode susceptible d’approcher ces deux éléments, tradition et changement qui sont bien le principe régulateur du long parcours de l’histoire de l’art.” (LACLOTTE 2014, p. 69). 50 His Centro e Periferia (1979) he wrote together with Carlo Ginzburg belongs to the fundamental methodological reflections on the topic (CASTELNUOVO/GINZBURG 1979). 51 He formulated his approach especially in KAUFMANN 2005. 52 DOSSIN/JOYEUX-PRUNEL/KAUFMANN 2015. 53 Ibidem, p. 2. 54 On historiography see KAUFMANN 2004, pp. 17–106; Idem 2005, pp. 1–9 and DOSSIN/JOYEUX- PRUNEL/KAUFMANN 2015, pp. 1–22. 55 Ibidem, p. 2.

15

Enrico Castelnuovo and Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann, to the study of Ravenna. We will look at the material aspects of Ravenna's monuments, as well as the organization and practice of crafts in Late Antiquity in the light of recent archaeological examinations and archaeometric analyses. An understanding of how models and ideas circulated, and of the workshops which created the new sedes imperii, can, I believe, explain the appearance of individual monuments. I want to go beyond notions of a “culture” or “school” of Ravenna as an exceptional phenomenon within “European art”. Like Castelnuovo and Kaufmann, I believe that the study of circulations (of materials, ideas, workers and cultures) and an understanding of the distribution of artefacts are useful tools for overcoming geographical compartmentalisation. I also believe that approaching Ravenna’s monuments from the point of view of today’s globalised world will be more helpful in understanding the late antique world than the nationalist or regional approaches of 20th-century art history. The second main part of my work, entitled “Changes of Authorities” might appear to sit more within the iconological tradition of our field. In order to get some idea of the ideological aims of those who commissioned Ravenna’s art, we will look at , theological disputes, and historical events in the late Roman Empire. Nonetheless, my aim is not to create a “corpus” or to try to search for new iconographic and iconological interpretations. It is my hope that my approach can connect traditional and non-traditional interpretations by examining patterns of exchange throughout the whole late antique world, this time on the political and ecclesiastical level. If the inspiration for the first part of this thesis is the lifelong work of the above-named practitioners of the social and global history of art, the inspiration for the second part is a hypothesis formulated by Richard Krautheimer in the introduction to his book Three Christian Capitals (1983).56 According to Krautheimer, “topography and political aims interlocked, and their interweaving is mirrored by the visual evidence”.57 Krautheimer is convinced that the identification of a building through historical sources is not always very informative, and risks missing the wider context. It is necessary to probe deeper into other historical and archaeological evidence, and to seek more practical reasons for a given site’s being occupied by a particular building.58 In the second part of this thesis, I will therefore look at how the history of the city, and its visual and material culture, was shaped by political and ecclesiastical events taking place throughout the Western and Eastern Roman Empire. These events form a framework in which we can find the meaning of an individual work of art, and the work of art can, in turn, also contribute to our understanding of cultural history. In this thesis, I aim to connect the broadly reconsidered historiographical context, the results of new archaeological discoveries in Ravenna and its port Classe, and knowledge of surviving artistic monuments, very often with a special focus on those of non-monumental production. I thus hope to provide a deeper understanding of the history, the society and especially the artistic

56 KRAUTHEIMER 1983. 57 Ibidem, p. 5. 58 Ibidem, p. 1.

16 production of this important late antique city in the period starting with Honorius’ arrival in the year 402 and ending with the invasion of Odoacer in 476.

17

EAST OR WEST? HISTORIOGRAPHICAL CONSIDERATIONS

Ever since the nineteenth century, scholars, critics, and artists have kept Ravenna’s monuments at the centre of attention; they are monuments of great artistic quality, well preserved, and easy to grasp at first sight. When the imperial court was relocated in 402, the emperor, the government, and the Church set out to build a new city worthy of the title sedes imperii and thus the city’s greatest glory and its greatest monuments are all from the two centuries following that relocation. Precisely this lack of any strong historical tradition, and the precise dating of the city’s famous buildings, are both crucial for Ravenna’s historiography. The newness of the city ensured that its Christian monuments would have unrivalled hegemony and legitimacy. At present, Ravenna’s monuments serve as tourist attractions and are studied as if they were pieces in a museum [Fig. 1]. It is not surprising, then, that the apparent unity of the city’s history and buildings has been used (and abused) in order to achieve various aims, including political ones. But upon closer examination, Ravenna turns out to have been a very “ambivalent” centre for the western half of the Roman Empire:1 Due to Ravenna’s geographic location, its political importance, and its role as a mediator between the eastern and western parts of the Roman Empire, the city’s buildings and their mosaics have long been the subject of lively scholarly debates. Scholars have sought to establish which models inspired Ravenna’s monuments, and where its artists and architects were from. Although Ravenna is located in northern Italy, in the very heart of the West, its monuments are often identified as eastern or Byzantine. Thus, for the French writer and traveller Valéry (pseudonym of Antoine-Claude Pasquin, 1789–1847), who visited Italy between 1826–1828, Ravenna’s church of San Vitale “offers the Byzantine style in all its purity, in all its oriental splendor”.2 For the historian Charles Bayet (1849–1918), it is necessary to understand Ravenna’s monuments as examples of the lost art of the East:

“There, in fact, from the beginning of the fifth century, we are as it were in the East, and the mosaics we find there are almost of the same importance as if they decorated the of Constantinople.”3

Likewise, the French Byzantinist and art historian Charles-Michel Diehl (1859–1944)4 was convinced that in Ravenna “better than in the East, even better than in Constantinople itself, we can study the Byzantine art of the fifth and the sixth centuries; here, better than in Rome, we can see it in the flesh and understand the remarkable influence that the art of the

1 WHARTON 1995, p. 153. 2 “(…) offre le style byzantin dans toute sa pureté, dans tout son éclat oriental”. (Valéry 1831/1833, vol. 3, p. 240). More about atractivity of Ravenna for French voyagers see CHEVALLIER 1973. 3 “Là, en effet, dès le commencement du cinquième siècle, nous sommes pour ainsi dire en Orient, et les mosaïques que nous rencontrons ont presque la même importance que si elles décoraient les basiliques de Constantinople.” (BAYET 1879, pp. 80–81). 4 Heid, S., “Charles-Marie- Adolphe-Louis Bayet”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 142–143.

19

Orient had on Italy”.5 The French philosopher, historian and literary critic Hippolyte Taine (1828–1893),6 also placed Ravenna’s monuments into the artistic milieu of . Nonetheless, he regarded them in a completely different way than the above-mentioned travellers and scholars. He published his impressions from his 1864 trip to Italy under the title Voyage en Italie (published 1866). According to Taine, Byzantine art (as demonstrated by the decoration of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo) reflected the destruction of the more ancient classical traditions:

“They [the artists] have forgotten how to observe living models, the Church fathers had forbidden it; they copied accepted types.”7

Taine also draws attention to the flatness of the mosaics, their lifeless attitudes, repetitive gestures, and drapery, and remarks that “the facial features are often as barbaric as the drawings a child tosses off”.8 Hippolyte Taine’s view was shared by the authors of many other art historical texts,9 all of which subscribe to the conventional art historical prejudices established (chiefly) by the Italian humanist Giorgio Vasari (1511–1574).10 Vasari praised only the art which he considered and called “classical”, i.e. art based on those Greek and Roman traditions which prioritised illusion and naturalism. Vasari characterised Byzantine art, which he labelled the “maniera greca”, by antipathy to the depiction of human figures, an inclination to schematic representation, uniformity, and the lack of proper artistic goals.11 According to Wilhelm Hausenstein, even “the (Byzantine) use of gorgeous materials was poor compensation for the loss of artistic thought”.12 For Elie Faure,13 Ravenna and its monuments escaped the decadence of Byzantine art if only because the city was located in the West, far from the centre of Byzantium, and thus the city’s art remained at least partially true to earlier Greek (i.e. classical) traditions.14 Regardless of the cultural realm Ravenna really belonged to, perception of the city is

5 “Mieux qu’en Orient, mieux qu’à Constantinople même, on peut étudier l’art byzantin du Ve ed du VIe siècle; ici, mieux qu’à Rome, on peut saisir sur le vif et comprendre l’influence si remarquable qu’exerça sur l’Italie l’art chrétien d’Orient”. (DIEHL 1886, p. 1). For the same opinion see also GARDNER 1926 [1986], p. 265. 6 KULTERMANN 1990, pp. 102–103; JOLLET 2008. 7 “Ils (les artistes) ont désappris l’observation du modèle vivant, les Pères la leur ont interdite; ils copient des types acceptès (...).” (TAINE 1866, cit. from 2nd edition from 1874, pp. 210–212). 8 “(…) souvent les traits du visage sont aussi barbares que les dessins d’un enfant qui s’essaye.” (Ibidem). 9 E.g. FAURE 1922; GARDNER 1926; HAUSENSTEIN 1927. 10 More about Vasari’s attitude to Byzantine art in: BICKENDORF 2002; CONCINA 2002. See also KULTERMANN 1990, pp. 24–30. 11 Vasari 1550 (1986), e.g. pp. 139, 147, 161, 232, 233. See also CONCINA 2002; BERNABÒ 2010, p. 127. 12 HAUSENSTEIN 1927, p. 151. 13 KULTERMANN 1990, p. 178. 14 “Sometimes, upon contact with the soil of Italy, at Ravenna, especially, the (stiff) images (of Byzantine art) turn into pictures full of movement, and figures pass among the trees. Dogmatic in their immobility, Asiatic in their material, they remain Greek before all else, because they express something which, while it may be transformed, vitiated, bastardized, cannot disappear – the instinct which urges a people to demand from the forms of nature the education of spirit.” (FAURE 1922, pp. 213–214).

20 inevitably linked with perception of Byzantium. Since the beginnings of modern historiography, Ravenna has been controversial. Attempts to identify “Western” and “Eastern” features of its monuments have often led scholars beyond the borders of art history, and their findings have become powerful tools in various political debates. After more than a century of modern research, we can safely say that the debate between those who see Ravenna as an “outpost” of Eastern art on Italian soil, and those who see Ravenna as a continuation of the Western Roman tradition, has fundamentally informed the way the city’s monuments are studied. The debate was introduced into the historiography of Ravenna first by Italian nationalists after the unification of the country in 1861, then taken up by the Italian founders of Byzantine studies in Italy at the turn of the twentieth century. Nor were the scholars of the Vienna School of Art History able to avoid framing their work on Ravenna as a debate – Orient oder Rom? The question loomed large in the work of interwar art historians, and the debate has lost little of its intensity even today. My thesis, in which I aim to better understand the art of this important late antique city, will thus have to start by analysing and clearing up the broader historiographical background.

Ravenna and Byzantine Studies in Italy

In the autumn of 1882, the above-mentioned French art historian Charles Bayet (1849–1918)15 then engaged in the preparation of his book L’art byzantine (1883)16 wrote to a friend, the Italian archaeologist Giovanni Battista de Rossi (1822–1894)17:

“(...) but Byzantine art touches so many things that I am a little bit worried. In addition, in speaking of Byzantine influences in the West, I will risk making strong enemies among your compatriots”.18

Charles Bayet was, it seems, well aware of the political situation in late-nineteenth- century Italy, where monuments played an important role in determining the identity of the young Italian nation after 1861. He was writing just a year after the constitution of Ravenna’s Museo Civico Bizantino on the initiative of the sculptor Enrico Pazzi and five years before constitution of state Museo nazionale (1887).19 Then, in 1897, after a half century of intensive archaeological research, and with professional preservation of the cultural heritage of the fledgling Italian State at stake, the Soprintendenza ai Monumenti di Ravenna was founded as the first organization of its kind in Italy.20 The increased interest in Ravenna’s monuments, state support for archaeological research, and the establishment of the above-mentioned

15 Heid, S., “Charles-Marie- Adolphe-Louis Bayet”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 142–143. 16 BAYET 1883. 17 Heid, S., “Giovanni Battista de Rossi”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 400–405. 18 “(…) mais l’art byzantin touche à tant de choses que j’en suis un peu effrayé. Sans compter qu’en parlant des influences byzantines en Occident, je risquerai fort de me faire des ennemis parmi vos compatriotes.” (Charles Bayet to Giovanni Battista de Rossi, 1882, MS Vat. Lat. 14268, nr. 681, Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. The letter firstly published by GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 31 and n. 4, p. 41). 19 NOVARA 2015, p. 622. 20 Eadem 2002.

21 organizations must all be seen against the background of the political situation prevailing at the time. After Italian nationalists conquered Rome in 1870 and declared it the capital of a united Italy, the Vatican and its institutions, having given up hope of restoring an ecclesiastical state, found good reasons to support the emerging field of Paleochristian Archaeology.21 With the Papacy losing its political power, the Vatican saw archaeological excavations of Roman churches and catacombs as a tool for reinforcing the traditional vision of Catholic Rome as centre of culture.22 In these political circumstances, the new Italian government thought that Ravenna – the former seat of the Western and later capital of the first regnum Italiae – could serve as an ideal counterpart to papal Rome in forging the identity of the new nation.23 This development of Paleochristian Archaeology made Rome a significant centre of post-classical and medieval studies at the turn of the century. The above-mentioned Giovanni Battista de Rossi (1822–1894)24 was among the chief representatives of this Roman school.25 In 1863 he founded an influential journal with an international readership, the Bullettino di archeologia cristiana. Starting in 1875, the Bulletino regularly published the proceedings of conferences in which leading foreign Byzantinists, such as Nikodim Pavlovič Kondakov (1844–1925),26 Dmitrij Ajnalov (1862–1939),27 and Georg Stuhlfauth (1870–1942)28 had participated.29 Contributions from foreign colleagues in the field of Byzantine art were also welcomed by the editors of the first journal dealing explicitly with art history, the Archivio storico dell’arte,30 founded by the “father of art history in Italy” in 1888, Adolfo Venturi (1856– 1941).31 At the time, Venturi’s major competitor was Corrado Ricci (1858–1934),32 a native of Ravenna and one of the founders of the journal Felix Ravenna (1911). Like Venturi’s Archivio, Ricci’s journal published articles devoted not only to Paleochristian art, but to Byzantine art as well. Corrado Ricci was the chief representative of the beginnings of “Italian Ravenna”, and his life was marked by major milestones in the formation of the Italian State, and then,

21 More about the new Italian state and the Church in KERTZER 2000, esp. pp. 191–195. 22 GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 33. 23 JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 32. 24 Heid, S., “Giovanni Battista de Rossi”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 400–405. 25 About the origin of the Rossi’s Roman school see GASBARRI 2015/4, pp. 23–35. 26 FOLETTI 2011 (on Kondakov's participation see esp. p. 37); Khrushkova, L. G., “Nikodim Pavlovič Kondakov”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 751–754. 27 Khrushkova, L.G., “Dmitrij Ajnalov”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 53–54. 28 Strohmaier-Wiederanders, G., “Georg Stuhlfauth”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1207–1208. 29 The proceedings of the earliest conferences were collected in MARUCCHI 1888. See also GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 33. 30 PAPI 2008. 31 About Adolfo Venturi see KULTERMANN 1990, p. 179; AGOSTI 1996; VALERI 1996; D’ONOFRIO 2008. About the Venturi’s journal see SCIOLLA/VARALLO 1999; PAPI 2008 and GASBARRI 2015/4, pp.75–142. 32 KULTERMANN 1990, p. 180; Pasi, S., “Corrado Ricci”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1072–1075; EMILIANI 2004; Idem 2008.

22 after the First World War, the rise of the fascist regime. He was in charge of important state institutions in Ravenna (Museo Nazionale, Soprintendenza ai Monumenti di Ravenna, Direzione generale delle Antichita e Belle Arti), and in this capacity he supervised major restoration works on Ravenna’s monuments, aimed at bringing the monuments back to its “original” state. Regarding the origins of Ravenna’s architecture, Corrado Ricci considered as an obvious example of the difference between East and West the mosaics in the nave of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo. While he ascribed the mosaics from the reign of Theodoric to the work of the Roman artists, Justinian’s mosaic – according to him – belongs to the period of Eastern and Byzantine domination.33 He formulates his opinion on Byzantine art and its aesthetic by formally comparing these two traditions and their meeting in Sant’Apollinare:

“But this beauty is almost exclusively decorative, not formal. One could say that just as the Italian artists felt, in their figures, the influence of august classical sculpture, the Byzantines felt the influence of dazzling oriental materials.”34

Ricci considers what he called “Roman” style more formally beautiful, and the “Byzantine” too ostentatious and decorative:

“We should recognise that if in design, and in substance (for lack of a better term), Roman mosaics are more solid and beautiful, exalt an uninhibited luxury, making them more brilliant and thus more decorative.”35

Near the end of his life, Corrado Ricci completed his Tavole storiche dei mosaici di Ravenna, still an important resource for studying Ravenna’s monuments.36 The aim of this work was to provide art historians with a firm basis for researching the monuments’ iconography, symbols, style, and aesthetic. It would also enable scholars to consider the state of mosaics before and after their restoration.37 By so doing, Ricci probably wanted to draw attention to the work of Roman artist and restorer Felice Kibel, who was, from the 1850s to the 1870s, commissioned by the municipal government of Ravenna to restore all of Ravenna’s important mosaics. Kibel’s work was highly controversial in terms of technology as well as

33 “La differenza, ad esempio, che passa tra i musaici eseguiti in Ravenna sotto i dominii occidentale e gotico, e quelli eseguiti dopo il ristabilimento del dominio orientale e la istituzione dell’Esarcato, è palese a chi li consideri nelle forme, nel sentimento nella tecnica, nella stessa sostanza materiale (...). Lascieremo per ora in disparte l’esame degli altri monumenti ravennati nei quali le forme tradizionali romane prevalgono su tutto, come nel Mausoleo di Galla Placidia, nel Battistero della Cattedrale, ecc., per rimanerci al semplice confronto dei due stili, quali si mostrano in Sant’Apollinare Nuovo.” (RICCI 1902, pp. 18–20). 34 “Ma è bellezza quasi unicamente decorativa, non di forma. Si direbbe che, come gli artisti italici sentivano per le loro figure l’influenza della severa scoltura classica, i bizantini sentissero invece quella delle smaglianti stoffe orientali.” (Ibidem). 35 “Conviene però riconoscere che se, come disegno e, a così dire, nella sostanza, il musaico di tradizione romana è più solido e bello, quello bizantino, con l’esaltazione d’un lusso sfrenato, è più fastoso e quindi più decorativo.” (Ibidem). 36 RICCI 1930/1937 (completed posthumously). The work was composed of eight booklets and included a series of 75 large illustrative tables with photographic materials, graphics and drawings made by his collaborators Alessandro Azzaroni and restorer and mosaicist Giuseppe Zampiga. The first booklet (on the mausoleum of Galla Placidia), was issuded in 1930 and immediately followed by the volumes on the Baptistery of the and the (both in 1932), on Sant’Apollinare Nuovo (1933) and on the archbishop’s chapel 1934. The sixth and seventh booklets, on San Vitale (1935) and Sant’Apollinare in Classe (1935), were issued posthumously, the eighth and last one appeared in 1937 (San giovanni Evangelista, San Michele in Africisco, Sant’Agata and Ursiana). See more in DAVID 2015. 37 RICCI 1930, pp. 5–6.

23 iconography.38 Along with Ricci’s work, we should mention other systematic collections of engravings and photographs documenting the “Byzantine” monuments of Ravenna: the third and fourth volumes of Raffaele Garrucci’s (1812–1885) Storia della arte cristiana (1876–1877),39 and Arduino Colasanti’s (1877–1935) publication in 1912 of one hundred photographs in large format.40 This growing scholarly interest in the “Byzantine” monuments of Italy at the turn of the century, irrespective of these men’s personal opinions, corresponded to the general development of this new discipline in other countries. In those other countries, interest in Byzantine art was, more than in Italy, related to the debate about .41 It was also the direct result of discussions taking place within the Vienna School of Art History, particularly Josef Strzygowski’s (1862–1941)42 revolutionary work Orient oder Rom. Beiträge zur Geschichte der spätantiken und frühchristlichen (1901).43 Strzygowski’s participation in the III Congresso internazionale di scienze storiche in Rome in 1903 also had a major inpact on Italian scholars.44 Strzygowski, in his lifelong research, developed a theory that the art of Late Antiquity is nothing more than the final phase of Hellenistic art, and Rome is the only one of its centres, and moreover not a particularly important one.45 Italian archaeologists and art historians approached Strzygowski’s ideas with great caution, but they could not overlook them and seldom rejected them. Many publications, including some mentioned above, e.g. Venturi‘s Archivio (which became L'Arte in 1898) and Felix Ravenna, actively participated in debates on Byzantine art, and they accepted and encouraged contributions from foreign scholars.46 Moreover, the publication and early circulation of Strzygowski’s books took place at the same time that another famous student of Adolfo Venturi, Antonio Muñoz (1884-1960) was beginning his career.47 Muñoz carefully considered the implications of extending the

38 BOVINI 1966; ANTONELLINI 2003; Eadem 2012. The intense restoration works between 1840s and 1860s were result of the renewal of the city after Napoleonic sackings from the Italian campaign (1796) until the formation of the Kingdom (1805). Various restorers using invasive restoration techniques and arbitrary completions worked in Ravenna in 1850s (Liborio Salandri, Muzio Baldini, Ignazio Sarti and Felice Kibel). They worked in “Mausoleum” of Galla Placidia, in Orthodox Baptistery, Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, San Vitale and Sant’Apollinare in Classe (DAVID 2013/1, p. 11). 39 GARRUCCI 1876; Idem 1877. More about Garrucci see Heid, S., “Raffaele Garrucci S. J.”, in Personenlexikon vol. I, pp. 550–551. More about Garrucci’s Storia della arte cristiana in GASBARRI 2015/4, pp. 35–40. 40 COLASANTI 1912. More about Colasanti see Heid, S., “Arduino Colasanti”, in Personenlexikon, vol. I, p. 326. 41 For an overview on the relation between Byzantine art history and art criticism in England, see e.g., BULLEN 2003; for LABRUSSE 2007; for FOLETTI 2011, pp. 122–134; for Italy GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 32. 42 BISSING 1950; Zäh, A., “Josef Rudolf Thomas Strzygowski”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1200–1205; KULTERMANN 1990, pp. 157–158; SCHOLZ 1992; OLIN 2000; MARANCI 2002; Eadem 2006; SCHOLZ 2015. 43 STRZYGOWSKI 1901. 44 GASBARRI 2015/2, p. 5. 45 The number of summaries on the debate Orient other Rome is vast, see for example OLIN 2000; ELSNER 2002; JÄGGI 2002; RAMPLEY 2013, pp. 166–185. 46 GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 37. 47 FOLETTI 2011, pp. 213–215; Heid, S., “Antonio Muñoz”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 944–945; BELLANCA 2003; GASBARRI 2014; Idem 2015/4, pp. 173–179.

24 boundaries of art history towards the East, and Josef Strzygowski was among the scholars most often cited by Muñoz. Because Antonio Muñoz later served as direttore delle Antichità e Belle Arti and was enthusiastic about Mussolini’s Fascist propaganda, starting in 1929, his pre-First World War work has been largely forgotten. Early in his career, he was a significant Italian specialist in Byzantine art. Right from the beginning of his career in 1903, he adopted Strzygowski’s views, and published studies about Byzantine sculpture and manuscript illumination not only in L’Arte, but also in other important European journals like Byzantinische Zeitschrift or Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft.48 Likewise, his focus on book illumination, a field little known in Italy before then, corresponded with the new methodological innovations of the Vienna School of Art History, where the medium of book illumination was understood as a main transmitter of many figurative prototypes from the East to Italy.49 From 1903, Muñoz worked as a reviewer and member of the editorial board for the journal L’Arte, where he had many opportunities to comment on important publications devoted to Byzantine art, including the work of Josef Strzygowski and Nikodim Pavlovič Kondakov.50 Muñoz also contributed to the organization and creation of the catalogue for the Esposizione di Arte Italo-Bizantina (1905–1906) at the Greek of Grottaferata near Rome. This was the first exhibition dedicated exclusively to Byzantine art in Italy.51 Its organizing committee was directed by the historian (1843–1922) and included important representatives of state institutions, including Corrado Ricci and Adolfo Venturi.52 Even though the exhibition, due to bureaucratic and financial difficulties, was not very successful and received little international attention, it was a turning point for Antonio Muñoz and influenced the topic of his 1907 monograph Codex Purpureus Rossanensis.53 In this work, the Rossano Gospels and the fragmentary Sinope Gospels were treated as evidence of the “eastern” origin of some , as were the churches of San Saba and Santa Maria Antiqua in Rome. His book garnered positive reviews and appeared at a time when the Vatican library was publishing official editions of rare Byzantine manuscripts.54 Despite their differing views of Byzantine art and their disparate evaluations of its aesthetics, Corrado Ricci, Adolfo Venturi, and Antonio Muñoz were part of an international network of Byzantine studies which was particularly concerned with scientific honesty, and they were aware of the alarming rise of nationalist and racist tendencies in the teens of the twentieth century. In 1915, the Burlington Magazine defended these Italian researchers in response to an article by Karl Hessel, who had declared the that the Church of San Vitale in

48 E.g. MUÑOZ 1904/1; Idem 1904/2. 49 For more about the beginning of research into Byzantine manuscripts in Italy see GASBARRI 2014; Idem 2015/2, pp. 5–6. 50 E.g. MUÑOZ 1904/3; Idem 1905/1. GASBARRI 2015/2, p. 6; FOLETTI 2011, pp. 213–215. 51 MUÑOZ 1905/2. 52 LEARDI 2002; BARSANTI 2011; GASBARRI 2015/2, pp. 8–9; Idem 2015/3, pp. 156–72; Idem 2015/4, pp. 156–172. 53 MUÑOZ 1907. 54 GASBARRI 2015/2, p. 12; Idem 2015/4, pp. 204–210.

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Ravenna was a clear demonstration of the superiority of the Germanic genius:

“Ravenna has suffered much already at the hands of the well-intentioned. But heaven help S. Vitale, if Herr Hessel were to replace Commendatore Corrado Ricci.”55

This review was written in , 1915 after Italy had already entered the First World War. In February, 1916, Ravenna was bombed by the Austrian army, and the Church of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo was seriously damaged. The war inevitably caused disruption in international scholarly relations, and some European periodicals like Byzantinische Zeitschrift and Vizantijskij Vremennik temporarily ceased publication.56 After the war, Byzantine studies were gradually but fundamentally transformed. From then on, the spotlight would be on those scholars who highlighted the romanitas of and made that art part of the foundation of the Italian state. In their work, open racism started to interfere with scholarship.57 Among the Italian representatives par excellence of this way of thinking was government official Giovanni Teresio Rivoira (1849–1919).58

Ravenna and Italian Nationalism

Giovanni Teresio Rivoira formulated his theory of the uninterrupted development of the Italian architecture, independent of foreign influences from the time of the Roman Empire to the High in Le origini della architettura Lombarda,59 published in 1901, the same year as Strzygowski’s Orient oder Rom. Rivoira devoted the first, extensive chapter, entitled L’architettura romano-ravennate e bizantino-ravennate, to Ravenna’s architecture.60 The fact, that Rivoira’s work is possible to call nationalistic, is justified by his own words and by the conditions in which he worked. Rivoira was born in 1849, the year when Victor Emmanuel ascended to the throne. He was a volunteer in the national army and participated in the “liberation” of Rome.61 In his texts he introduced himself as a patriot:

“I have written this volume in the reign of Victor Emmanuel III, under whom the union of Italy has been completed: and, what is more, during the Great War for the freedom of the world. No longer able to fight for my country in arms, I have endeavoured to serve her and the cause of knowledge with my pen.”62

In his work, Rivoira promoted Italy by trying to show its cultural superiority, and he

55 Karl Hessel, “Neues aus der Frühgermanenzeit in Italien, II—Theoderichs Königshalle in Ravenna”, Kölnische Zeitung, Literatur und Unterhaltungsblatt 824 (August 15, 1915). For the review, see E. M., “Ravenna and the Early Germans”, Burlington Magazine 28 (November 1915), pp. 79–80 (cit. in GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 40, n. 34). 56 GASBARRI 2015/1, p. 40. 57 For reflection on the concept of “national styles” in general see CASTELNUOVO 1987 (2014), pp. 995–996. 58 WHARTON 1995, pp. 1–14; Plontke-Lüning, A., “Gian Teresio Rivoira”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1080– 1081. 59 RIVOIRIA 1901 (Vol. 1); Idem 1907 (Vol 2); Idem 1908 (vols. 1 and 2). 60 Idem 1908, pp. 5–125. 61 WHARTON 1995, p. 7. 62 RIVOIRA 1921 (cit. from the English edition from 1925, p. vii).

26 considered Rome the centre of architectural developments. He described other art as incompetent, just like the culture of the people of the North and East (thus explicitly responding to Strzygowski). For Rivoira it was “inconceivable that a should be invited to design a building of Roman style and construction”. Thus “the idea that the Italian buildings of that age were the work of the German races is mythical”.63 Although it was relatively easy for these nationalist scholars to deny that the North had contributed to the development of Western architecture, it was more difficult to overlook Constantinople’s role in the development of in Italy, or to deny the achievements of Arabic architecture. Nevertheless, Rivoira dismissed these civilisations entirely, claiming that the Arabs and Byzantines had been too morally incompetent for the creation of great art. He described the Arabs, like northern European tribes, as , and highlighted the supposed perversity of non-Christian :

“The Arabs, like the , the Langobardi, the Normans, and the other Barbarian invaders, brought no architecture of their own with them into the countries which they conquered. What they carried was the scimitar and the Koran; ant their energies were devoted to imposing the faith of the Prophet, and at the same time satisfying their insatiable lust for plunder and rapine.”64

In his book Architettura musulmana (1914), Rivoira asserted that although the Byzantines were , they were morally unable to create great art. The book is not at all about , but compares the monuments of Islamic with Roman monuments in order to support his theory that Rome was the creative centre of .65 In retrospect, Rivoira’s academic work can be seen as part of a much broader cultural project that attempted to legitimize neo-colonialism, nationalism, racism and ultimately fascism.66 At a time of Italian nationalism, Teresio Rivoira articulated his belief in the “glorious destiny” of Rome. This period saw a revival of the imperial ambitions of the country, which eventually resulted in the rise of Fascism. His work glorified the same Roman imperial power that Mussolini used as a model for his fascist regime and Italian imperialism. Archaeological excavations of sites from Antiquity served to maintain interest in the Roman Empire, and Mussolini portrayed himself as a defender of Roman and Italian heritage.67 In the same spirit, King Victor Emmanuel III had made a gift of alabaster panels for the windows of the so- called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia in 1908 [Fig. 2].68 These Italians’ efforts to demonstrate the Western, Roman roots of their culture and nation coincided with the birth elsewhere of Byzantine studies (into which field Ravenna’s monuments were often included). Both phenomena were part of a rapidly growing interest, all over the world, in Late Antiquity and Medieval art history. The Vienna School of Art History

63 RIVOIRA 1921 (1925), pp. 197–199. 64 Idem 1914 (1918), p. V. 65 Ibidem. 66 WHARTON 1995, p. 12. 67 Ibidem, p. 12. 68 DAVID 2013/2, p. 17.

27 and its debate, Orient oder Rom, was one of the early focal points of this interest, and at the core of the Viennese debate was an attempt to define the origin of Christian art and to determine where the decisive impetus for its development came from.69 This Viennese debate would greatly influence all subsequent art-historical research into the Antique and Late Antique period. When all was said and done, it turned out to be just as important for the historiography of Ravenna as the work of the Italian scholars we have already mentioned. And like those Italian scholars’ writings, the work of the most prominent Cisalpine researchers can also be better understood if we briefly examine the political context in which they worked.

Orient oder Rom: Austria-Hungary between East and West

One side of the debate crystallised in the publication – within a few years of each other – of Franz Wickhoff’s (1853–1909)70 Die Wiener Genesis (1895), and Stilfragen: Grundlegungen zu einer Geschichte der Ornamentik (1893) and Spätrömische Kunstindustrie (1901–1923) by Alois Riegl (1858–1905).71 The development of archaeology as a scientific discipline in the second half of the nineteenth century provided these researchers with a strong foundation for their work. Archaeological finds made it possible for them to compare not just to Greek art, which had been the norm, but to early Christian art as well. This inevitably led to a complete review of the Roman period. The above-mentioned publications presented research on the two main questions that the Vienna School of Art History asked regarding the art of Antiquity: 1) What were the defining characteristics of Roman art? and 2) Was there continuity between the final stage of Antiquity and the beginning of the Middle Ages?72 The traditional view held that the roots of Christian art must be sought in Rome, but thanks to the archaeological surveys of Binbirkilise, Resafa, and others, this view began to give way, in the late nineteenth century, to one which saw the roots of Christian art in Asia Minor and the Middle East.73 The other side of the debate was powerfully presented in the short work Orient oder Rom. Beiträge zur Geschichte der spätantiken und frühchristlichen Kunst by Josef Strzygowski (1862–1941),74 an opponent of Riegl and Wickhoff. It was published in the same year as Riegl’s Spätrömische Kunstindustrie (1901).75 In Orient oder Rom, Strzygowski – who was gaining a reputation as an expert on Byzantine and Eastern Roman art – made five case studies of Late Antique and early Christian monuments, seeking their origins not in Rome but

69 OLIN 2000; ELSNER 2002; JÄGGI 2002; RAMPLEY 2013, pp. 166–185. 70 WICKHOFF / VON HARTEL 1895. On Wickhoff see Tsamakda, V., “Franz Wickhoff”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1316–1317. 71 RIEGL 1893; RIEGL 1901–1923. On Riegl see OLIN 1992; ELSNER 2002; Dennert, M., “Alois Riegl”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1079–1080. 72 ROSENAUER 1996; ELSNER 2002. 73 JÄGGI 2002. 74 BISSING 1950; Zäh, A., “Josef Rudolf Thomas Strzygowski”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1200–1205; KULTERMANN 1990, pp. 157–158; SCHOLZ 1992; OLIN 2000; MARANCI 2002; Eadem 2006; SCHOLZ 2015. 75 STRZYGOWSKI 1901.

28 in the big cities of the East – , , and Ephesus. Later in his life, Strzygowski took his research even further east, to Mesopotamia, Persia, and Armenia.76 Wickhoff, Riegel, and Strzygowski all shared an interest in the “Orient”, but their approaches differed significantly due to their divergent attitudes to the political events which were convulsing the Austro-Hungarian Empire at that time. Since the seventeenth century, the Austrian Empire had been rapidly expanding its territory eastwards and southwards until it included a large population of subjects who differed widely in and language. In the nineteenth century, the eastern and southeastern territories were important for the political identity of the Habsburg Empire, which presented itself as mediator between Eastern and Western and the Islamic Middle East. Its internal political coherence was based on a multi-ethnic composition of its population.77 Habsburg intellectuals attempted to create a myth of “unity through diversity”, and this made for a unique scholarly environment where there was strong political interest in research on the “Orient”, which came to mean the Islamic world as well as “eastern” Europe, where Orthodox predominated.78 Riegl and Wickoff insisted on the normative role of the classical tradition, relegating the folk cultures of Eastern and Southeastern Europe, as well as the Islamic world, to the role of historical curiosities whose occasional achievements depended on recycled Greek and Roman forms. Alois Riegl studied Persian, Assyrian, and Arabic culture and was convinced that the similarities between Islamic and medieval art, like the similarities between European folk art and the art of Persia, could be simply explained by one historical phenomenon: they shared the roots in what he called “International Hellenistic-Roman Art” or “Late Roman- Byzantine Art”. He then explained away the differences as local variations.79 Riegl was convinced, like most of his contemporaries, that the modern East was a place of a decadence and sloth, and thus represented the conventional viewpoint in the aforementioned European art-historical debates.80 Riegl and his students, loyal Eurocentric defenders of a multicultural Austrian Empire, were far more popular in Austria than Josef Strzygowski, who treated Europe as just one more province of a much wider artistic territory. Strzygowski, who would eventually become one of the most famous representatives of the Vienna School of Art History, was the son of a Polish merchant and a German aristocrat from Austrian Silesia, a region where the Germans formed a higher social class that was outnumbered by lower-class Poles and Czechs. He refused to follow his father into the textile industry, and moved to Berlin and Munich, where he began his studies with the classical archaeologist Hermann Brunn. Brunn directed Strzygowski towards a dissertation on the iconography of the Baptism of Christ, and arranged for Strzygowski to spend a year in Rome. While there, Strzygowski turned off the path laid out

76 OLIN 2000; ELSNER 2002; JÄGGI 2002; RAMPLEY 2013, pp. 166–185. 77 For an overview of the politics of the Austro-Hungarian Empire see for example BRIDGE 1972. 78 RAMPLEY 2013, p. 166–185. 79 E.g. RIEGL 1891, pp. 112–47, 146, 147. 80 OLIN 1992, pp. 18–23.

29 for him by teacher, and focused instead on the role of Byzantine style in the evolution of medieval Italian art. Strzygowski was soon hired by Wilhelm von Bode to go to and compiled a list of the works of art donated by the Sultan to the Emperor for the Early Christian Collection of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum. In 1892, Strzygowski became head of the department of art history at the University of Graz and then, despite having a large number of enemies, he held the same office at the University of Vienna from 1909 to 1933.81 Strzygowski’s book Orient oder Rom is, like Riegl’s Spätrömische Kunstindustrie, a study of the eastern origin of medieval art. It was written in the same political context, but unlike Riegl, Strzygowski had pan-Germanic and anti-Catholic tendencies. The multi-ethnic character of the Austro-Hungarian Empire led, in the early years of the twentieth century, to a series of separatist movements that threatened the Empire’s national stability. Therefore, Austrian Germans became more hostile to non-Germans, and the Pan-Germanic ideology promulgated by Georg von Schönerer in the 1880s gained in popularity. This Pan-Germanic programme promoted the unity of Germans everywhere within in the Empire, and was actively anti-Semitic, anti-Slavic, and anti-Catholic. Anti-Catholicism was also part of the programme of the radical German nationalist movement Los von Rom, which rejected Catholicism and declared Lutheranism the national religion of the Germans.82 The book Orient oder Rom revealed Strzygowski’s political attitudes, and his contemporaries clearly understood its references to this campaign, which aimed to separate Austrian and Bavarian Catholics from Rome and join them, “over and against the Habsbug Empire’s other ethnic groups, to Bismarck’s increasingly powerful Reich”.83 Although Strzygowski did not explicitly declare allegiance to this programme in his work, Cristina Maranci draws attention to the fact that Strzygowski grew up in Biała (nowdays Bielsko-Biała) in Austrian Silesia, a few kilometres from Galicia and one of the places where Pan-Germanism was most popular. Throughout his writings, Strzygowski expresses the conviction that religious influence wrongly suppresses national identity, in the same way that Pan-Germanism claimed that Catholicism caused the decline of the German race and the mutual alienation of Germans from each other. It was therefore necessary to re-establish a pure and German religion – Lutheranism.84 Strzygowski’s pan-Germanism did not preclude a strong interest in Armenian architecture, and in 1918 this interest resulted in the comprehensive work Die Baukunst der Armenier und Europa (1918).85 For Strzygowski, the “Aryan nature” of Armenian architecture was one of its most important features. In Armenia, in fact, Strzygowski saw parallels with events in his own country. The years 1913–1918, when he wrote this work, were painful for both Austria and Armenia. For Austria, the war threatened the very foundations of the

81 Zäh, A., “Josef Rudolf Thomas Strzygowski”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1200–1205; KULTERMANN 1990, pp. 157–158 (quotes the aims of Vienna Institute Strzygowski outlined in 1913); MARCHAND 2009, pp. 403–405. 82 MARANCI 2002, p. 298. 83 MARCHAND 2009, p. 404. 84 MARANCI 2002, p. 298. 85 For the historiographical reconsideration of Strzygowski’s interest in Armenian architecture in the light of contemporary events see MARANCI 2006.

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Empire, while for Armenia these years brought the extermination of a large part of the population and the consequent emergence of a small, but short-lasting Republic.86 In Strzygowski’s view, medieval Armenia, like early-twentieth-century Austria, needed to defend itself against the devastating impact of supra-national religious institutions like Rome.87 Strzygowski expressed the belief that the Germans in Germany and Austria, like Armenians, were being persecuted because they wished to protect their national traditions against foreigners.88 This was in keeping with the Pan-Germanic program, which sought to preserve the “Germanic tradition” from corruption by the multi-ethnic population of the Habsburg Empire.89 Strzygowski was well informed about the events taking place in Armenia at the time. In 1913 he travelled to Armenia, where he met intellectuals, clerics, and Armenian nationalists. In Vienna, he had contact with Mekhitarist monastery, which provided assistance and solace to Armenian refugees during the war years.90 In the preface to his book Die Baukunst der Armenier und Europa, Strzygowski proves that he was familiar with the Armenian tragedy, and expresses hope that the Armenian people will recover from its centuries of slavery and spiritual exhaustion.91 Cristina Maranci draws a parallel between this view of Armenia and the way the collapse of the Habsburg Empire was perceived by some in Austria.92 Strzygowski saw his country as a the homeland of a pure Aryan race, trying to preserve its native culture from corruption by large and threatening numbers of non- Germans, just like the Armenians had tried to protect their cupola churches from the artistic and religious “influences” of the Mediterranean. After the publication of the book Die Baukunst der Armenier und Europa, Strzygowski never returned to the East, instead focusing his research on the artistic traditions of northern Europe.93 At the same time as Strzygowski was studying the art of Armenia, he turned his attention to Ravenna. In 1915, he published his Ravenna als Vorort aramäischer Kunst,94 where Ravennate monuments became evidence for his convictions regarding the origins of Christian art. In this study, the author also laments that for most scholars, the development of Christian art had to have been dictated by Rome and Constantinople. Strzygowski believes that the origin of Christian art, or in this study Ravennate art, must be sought in Antioch, ,

86 MARANCI 2002, p. 294. 87 Ibidem, pp. 298–299. 88 STRZYGOWSKI 1918, p. 604. 89 MARANCI 2002, p. 300. 90 Ibidem, p. 302. 91 STRZYGOWSKI 1918, p. 2. 92 Cristina Maranci sees other parallels with the collapse of the Habsburg Empire in a poem on the frontispiece of the book: “Der kämpfenden Menschheit als Mahnung Armeniers ringendem Volke zum Troste zum eigenen, deutschen Heimat Biala, bei Bielitz, zu Gedächtnis.” The poem was written at the end of the war after Austria lost much of its eastern territories, including the region of Bielitz. Strzygowski therefore devoted Die Baukunst der Armenier und Europa to struggling peoples, to the Armenians and to his homeland (MARANCI, p. 303). 93 MARANCI 2002, p. 305. 94 The concept of this study was presented on 23 March 1914 in Moscow (Moscow Archaeological Institute) and was to have been published in the journal “Sophia”, edited by Pavel Muratov. The war caused it to be published in 1915 in Oriens Christianus (STRZYGOWSKI 1915).

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Armenia, and Asia Minor.95 And finally, Strzygowski’s work is useful not only because it turns our attention to the East, but also because of his scientific approach: the author makes comparisons not only to works from the East, something which was in itself quite unusual at the time, but he makes comparisons with such varied objects as medaillons from Cyprus, the Gospels, and ampulae from the Holy Land. Strzygowski’s Ravenna als Vorort aramäischer Kunst is a very comprehensive study that brought into our historiography the important argument that eastern production should not be ignored. In Strzygowski’s own words:

“Ravenna is, perhaps even more so than Constantinople (which was founded by the Roman Emperor about three quarters of a century earlier), an offshoot of sadly-lost Antioch and its Aramaic hinterland.”96

Strzygowski’s East is a racially homogeneous place, covering an area from Europe to India. It was united by the Great, but later this unity was shattered by the “Semites” of the Roman Empire. Strzygowski’s East, in his architectural analysis, is the Aryan East, geographically separated from the Aryan West.97 Annabel Jane Wharton defines the East in concept of Strzygowski with words:

“Thus, in a certain sense, Strzygowski’s ‘East’ is not the East at all: it is rather the ‘West’ dislocated.”98

The art of Strzygowski’s Aryan East is racially linked to the art of northern Europe, which is also characterized by a taste for architectural volumes and figurative abstraction. In other words, vaults and non-figurative forms are Aryan, whether eastern or northern, and therefore good, while buildings with wooden roofs and figurative images are western (Mediterranean), i.e. Semitic and thus bad:

“Early Christian art was only antique, that is, Greek and Semitic, in those features which crippled its development, in the timber-roofed basilica, and in the monotonous objectivity of its representation.”99

For Strzygowski, the relationship between the Aryan and non-Aryan art and culture is a struggle between the forces of good and evil. From 1923 onwards, Strzygowski’s works are interpreted as “painfully racist”,100 especially Die Krisis der Geisteswissenschaften. Ein grundsätzlicher Rahmenversuch (1923)101 or some passages from the 1936 study Spuren indogermanischen Glaubens in der Bildenden Kunst:

95 STRZYGOWSKI 1915, p. 84. 96 “Ravenna ist mehr vielleicht als die um dreiviertel Jahrhunderte ältere Gründung der römischen Kaiser, Konstantinopel, ein Ableger des leider vom Erdboden verschwundenen Antiochia und seines aramäischen Hinterlandes. Darüber und über gewisse armenische Elemente in dem einzigen Steindenkmal von Ravennna soll hier in aller Kürze gesprochen warden” (Ibidem). 97 STRZYGOWSKI 1901, pp. 24, 37. 98 WHARTON 1995, p. 10. 99 STRZYGOWSKI 1923/1, p. 20. 100 WHARTON 1995, p. 11. 101 STRZYGOWSKI 1923/2.

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“After a long working life it appears to me that sensual mankind lives in the band around the equator: their exact opposite is northern man, made spiritual through his struggle with being. In between the two stand the men of the middle register – in Europe the area of the Mediterranean – who through power and position reached an unnaturally pleasurable external lifeform and who in the last thousand years thought that they could force their lifestyle as a model down the throats of the world including the northern European.... It is not time for us to rouse ourselves?”102

Strzygowski’s work proclaiming Aryan superiority became part of the “orientalism” which interested Nazis. His theories fit well with the aesthetics of racial purity, and his concept of pure art was based on the transhistorical unity of the Aryan people, something which could be, for Nazis, achieved again only through violent suppression (i.e. liquidation) “of the Other”. Strzygowski’s focus on questions of race and his alleged “collaboration” with Nazis have resulted in him hardly ever being cited since the Second World War.103 have resulted in him hardly ever being cited since the Second World War. However, it is important to realize that his work is the product of a remarkable familiarity with a large number of previously unknown cultures, and that he essentially founded a new area of study. He pointed his numerous students towards Byzantine, Islamic, Indian and Iranian art history. He was also a critic of the aforementioned humanist prejudices and one-sided thinking, and a remarkable collector of data. He provided art history with new topics for reflection and photographs of difficult-to-reach sites. His books appeared at a time when there were few specialists in this field, and he educated students who were already free from racial prejudices.104 In his studies, Strzygowski attacks philologists as well as historians and “humanists” for their “Eurocentric” view, but the most precise targets of his criticism were his Viennese colleagues, such as Wickhoff, Riegl, Dvořák, and Schlosser, who in turn criticized Strzygowski’s methodological errors. Strzygowski’s views regarding early Christian art, however, were substantially supported by archaeological discoveries made in the 1920s and 1930s in the Roman East and Syria (1932).105 The person responsible for bringing Ravennas’ architecture into the Orient oder Rom

102 “Nach einer langen Lebensarbeit sieht es mir so aus, als wenn der Sinnenmensch von Uranfängen her am ehesten heute noch im äquatorialen Gürtel zu finden wäre; sein gerades Gegenteil ist der durch den Kampf ums Dasein seelisch gestählte Nordmensch; zwischen beiden steht der durch Macht und Besitz zu unnatürlich wollüstigen äußeren Lebensformen gelangte Mensch des mittelalten Gürtels, im Europa des Mittelmeerkreises, der in den letzten Jahrtausenden glaubte, der Welt und so auch dem europäischen Norden seine Lebensart als Muster aufzwingen zu können. Heute erwachen wir unter dem Zwange der Not aus diesem Wahn, sehen uns auf der einen Seite durch die Romanen dem äquatorialen Süden ausgeliefert, während der Nordmensch, durch den Humanismus ausgehöhlt, hilflos in Schwäche zu versinken droht. Wäre es da nicht Zeit, uns aufzuraffen?” (STRZYGOWSKI 1936, pp. ix– x). English translation in WHARTON 1995, p. 11. 103 WHARTON 1995, p. 11 sees Strzygowski’s explicit collaboration with the Nazis in the letters from the S.S. archives in Berlin, dated 1937. These documents, according to the author, indicate that the S.S. “apparently following Strzygowski’s wishes and with Himmler's support, hoped to use his library as the foundation of a Schützstaffel Forschungsgemeinschaft für vergleichende Rassenkunstgeschichte (S.S. Research Institute for Comparative Racial Art History) in Berlin. Nonetheless, this “condemnation” of Strzygowski calls for further examination. For the discussion on the topic I thank Robert Born; the results of his recent archive research are much expected. 104 A positive reevaluation of Strzygowski’s work in MARANCI 2006; MARCHAND 2009, pp. 406–410. 105 ELSNER 2002, p. 373.

33 debate was one of Riegl’s students, Vojtěch Birnbaum (1877–1935).106 In his study Ravennská architektura. Její původ a vzory (Ravenna’s Architecture. Its origin and patterns, 1916–1921), Birnbaum tried to demonstrate the “domestic” origins of Ravenna’s art and its complete independence from artistic developments in the eastern regions of the Roman Empire.107 On the basis of almost mathematically accurate work with comparative material, Birnbaum demonstrates that an Italian precedent exists for every architectural element and building type that he investigates. He finds a generic connection between Roman basilicas and Ravenna’s basilicas, but attributes a pivotal role to Milan, where an “imperial architectural school” was active until it moved to Ravenna in the early fifth century. Ultimately, the conclusion of Birnbaum’s study is unambiguous: Ravenna’s architecture is an integral part and a culmination of the artistic development of Roman architecture.108 Birnbaum was one of the Czech scholars who were fiercely loyal to the work of Riegl and Wickhoff. His insistence on the western roots of early medieval Europe clearly corresponded to the ideology of the Habsburg Monarchy, which presented itself as the heir of Rome. It is therefore not surprising that between the wars, Birnbaum’s work became a target of criticism. In 1919, Jaroslav Nebeský and Florian Zapletal criticized Birnbaum’s work in the magazine Umělecký list and accused him of using “German” methods and ideas. Nebeský and Zapletal wanted to give priority to Eastern and Slavic cultures.109 Even in interwar Czechoslovakia, therefore, the debate Orient oder Rom became a means of defining the geopolitical location of the new state.110 Birnbaum’s book Ravennská architektura. Její původ a vzory would certainly have been warmly received by Italy’s interwar nationalist art historians, but since it was published only in Czech, it had no influence on the debate in Italy. By this time, nationalism and open racism had deeply penetrated Italian scholarship, resulting in obvious efforts to define “Italian” elements in Roman Art and “national spirit” in Roman works. Josef Strzygowski was, not surprisingly, blacklisted by Italian nationalists and fascists. Regardless of the content of Strzygowski’s work, Italian nationalist art historians saw him simply as an Austrian, and therefore naturally anti-Roman and anti-Italian. Strzygowski’s nationality took on even greater significance after Italy’s entry into the war against Austria and Germany in 1915.111 Massimo Bernabò points out the paradoxical way in which Strzygowski’s work was received in Italy:

106 HEČKOVÁ 2011 (many thanks to Petra Hečková for providing me with her text); Dennert, M., “Vojtěch Birnbaum”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 192–193. 107 BIRNBAUM 1916; Idem 1921. 108 “(...) Celkový závěr proto nemůže býti jiný, než že architektura ravennská vyrostla výhradně z tradic západořímských, že východ na ní nemá podílu pražádného” (BIRNBAUM 1916, pp. 100 a 101). 109 See more in HLOBIL 2005. 110 FILIPOVÁ 2008; RAMPLEY 2013, p. 178. 111 BERNABÒ 2001, p. 4.

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“Some Italian art historians countered Strzygowski's theories with positions that were also race- based, but milder.”112

Ravenna and Italian Fascism

After the First World War, at the same time as Strzygowski was developing his theories about the leading role of the East in the evolution of Christian art, the promising development of Byzantine studies in Italy was cut off, as was the study of Ravenna's monuments as part of the artistic milieu of Byzantium. Much space was given to those scholars who used Ravenna’s monuments for nationalistic purposes. Examples of such scholars are Giuseppe Galassi (1890- 1957)113 and Sergio Stenio Bettini (1905–1986), both students of Adolfo Venturi.114 In his 1929 work Roma o Bisanzio I. I musaici di Ravenna e le origini dell’arte italiana,115 Galassi rejected Strzygowski’s thesis and came to the conclusion that “the art revealed in the mosaics of fifth and sixth century Ravenna indicates one of the harshest phases in the evolution of the Romanesque and, at the same time, its first great victory in its gradual conquest of autonomy”, but also that “this is, surprisingly, the first appearance of Byzantine art in contact and contrast with Roman art”.116 Galassi placed special emphasis on the “scuola ravennata”, which, “after the transfer of the imperial seat to Ravenna, became without a doubt the most active and important school in the western world”.117 Unsurprisingly, this book was published at the end of the 1920s by the government publishing house Libreria dello Stato. Likewise, Sergio Stenio Bettini examined Ravenna’s monuments from the point of view of a “Romanist” (“it cannot be forgotten that when we say ‘Orient’, we are referring to a part of the Roman Empire”).118 Developing the fascist regime’s , Bettini attempted to discredit the idea that Byzantium could have been an artistic centre. In the years 1937, 1939 and 1944 he published studies of Byzantine , mosaic, and sculpture119 and did not hesitate to make Ravenna’s mosaics the subject of an extensive chapter in the second volume (1939), entitling it La decorazione di S. Marco. Mosaici a Ravenna, a Torcello, a Murano, a .120 In this work, Bettini looked at the mosaics under examination as “Byzantine”, but attributed the achievements of Byzantium in architecture to Rome and other cities in Italy. According to Bettini, Christian architecture was not born in the East, but in Rome, and its vaults and

112 “Alle teorie razziali di Strzygowski alcuni storici dell’arte italiani opposero posizioni razziali analoghe, ma più blande.” (Idem 1999, p. 48). 113 Pasi, S., “Giuseppe Galassi”, in Personenlexikon, Vol. 1, pp. 542–543. 114 BERNABEI 2007; AGAZZI 2011; Heid, S., “Sergio Stenio Bettini”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 176–178. 115 GALASSI 1929. 116 “(…), l’arte che si rivela dai musaici di Ravenna del V e VI secolo indica una delle fasi piu aspre nell’evolversi del Romanesimo e, ad un tempo, una sua prima grande vittoria nella graduale conquista dell’autonomia (…) e dato sorprendere il primo apparire dell’arte bizantina a contatto ed a contrasto immediato con quella romana.” (Ibidem, pp. 291–292). 117 “(…) dopo il trapasso della sede imperiale a Ravenna, diventó certamente la scuola più attiva e importante del mondo occidentale” (Ibidem). 118 “(…) non bisogna dimenticare che, dicendo Oriente, si dice una parte dell'Impero di Roma”. (BETTINI 1936–1937, p. 213). 119 Idem 1937/1944. 120 Idem 1939, pp. 37–53.

35 are Roman in origin. He drew attention to the western origin of Justinian’s buildings in Constantinople, and claimed that the chromatism of Justinian’s mosaics in Ravenna came from Milan and the local school.121 In 1926 Sergio Bettini became a member of Partito Nazionale Fascista, and in the words of Massimo Bernabò, he “provided sad proof of how a serious scholar could sell Byzantium for Rome in the years of Mussolini’s imperial rhetoric”.122 In the 1920s and 1930s, Bettini and Galassi devoted their careers to the regime, which in its desire for national rebirth and a new Italian Empire, conceived of Byzantium as a kind of anti-Rome.123 This “demonization” of Byzantine art went hand in hand with the condemnation of the contemporary art and politics of France. was the new Byzantium, a corrupt and effeminate counterpart of to the solid and masculine civilization of Rome.124 French contemporary art, based on linearity, color, and abstraction, was despised by Italian fascists because it rejected the plastic values of “Roman Art” which had been found in the work of Giotto, Masaccio, Paolo Uccello, and Piero della Francesca when those artists were rediscovered before and after the First World War.125 The essential roles in these debates were played by the French primitives and Giotto. Was Giotto an heir of the Byzantine tradition (as the primitives of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were), or was he a representative of anti- and therefore of romanitas of Italian art? Not surprisingly, Ravenna’s mosaics were soon brought into the discussion. They became weapons for those intellectuals and artists who wanted to further the “development” of the new art, especially in France, the great democratic rival of Italy.126 The anti-Byzantine arguments that had been presented in the works of various Italian nationalists since the mid-nineteenth century were systematically gathered together in the pro- fascist newspaper Il Giornale d'Italia and in its monthly magazine La Rivista illustrata del Popolo d'Italia, edited by Benito’s brother Arnaldo Mussolini.127 The targets of this periodical’s political attacks were Josef Strzygowski and two famous students of Adolfo Venturi, Pietro Toesca (1877–1962)128 and Lionello Venturi (1885–1961).129 Pietro Toesca, a professor in the department of Art History at the University of Rome and director of the section of the Enciclopedia Italiana concerned with the Storia dell’Arte Antica e Medievale, was a respected cultural figure and was, without doubt, the highest authority on art history in Italy at that time. His refusal to bow to the current cultural nationalism was a thorn

121 BETTINI1939. 122 “(...) desse triste prova di serietà di studioso svendendo Bisanzio per Roma negli anni della retorica imperiale mussoliniana, (...)” (BERNABÒ 2003, p. 167). 123 Ibidem, p. 88. 124 BERNABÒ 2001, pp. 1–2. 125 CASTELNUOVO 2004. 126 See more in BERNABÒ 2003, pp. 108–116. 127 Idem 2010, p. 139. 128 Idem 2003, pp. 117–130; Russo, E., “Giovanni Pietro Toesca”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1236–1237; PACE 2014. 129 BERNABÒ 2003, pp. 138–144; LUX 2008; PACE 2014.

36 in the side of fascist intellectuals and officials.130 Toesca believed that the most important monuments of Italy were the product of eastern masters, and he demonstrated his hypotheses, among others, by reference to Ravenna’s mosaics. He clearly expressed his attitude to Byzantium and its culture in the first volume of his work Il Medioevo. Storia dell’arte italiana from 1927.131 Toesca highlights the stylistic differences between the monuments of the fifth and the sixth centuries. While the mosaic of the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, characterized by “impressionist” colours, is still based on the classical tradition, the mosaics of San Vitale already lack classical finesse and are primarily decorative. The transition between these two traditions, according to Toesca, occurs in basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo. Toesca considers all Ravenna’s mosaics “Byzantine” and explains the formal differences as reflecting different tendencies within Byzantine art.132 Ravenna’s mosaics, and therefore Byzantine mosaics, prefigure painting from the eleventh to the thirteenth centuries, i.e. the centuries before Giotto, Cavallini, Cimabue, and Duccio, who are thus the heirs to the Byzantine tradition of the thirteenth century.133 Pietro Toesca therefore belonged to those who considered Ravenna's monuments “Byzantine”. Unlike Corrado Ricci, Toesca appreciated the aesthetics of “Byzantine” art:

“Rather than declining, Classical forms and concepts undergo a lively transformation into new ones which will gradually mature in Byzantine painting. It is not the mosaics of Justinian and Theodora, but rather the other mosaics [of San Vitale] that reveal a monumental grandeur, a new sense of color, and the formation of certain stylisations which would be long maintained”.134

Lionello Venturi held the same attitude to Byzantine art. After flirting with fascism early on,135 in 1931 he refused to swear the oath of allegiance to the fascist regime demanded of all professors, so he was expelled from his department in and subsequently emigrated to France and the United States.136 He understood medieval art as a triumph of spirituality and religion, and he supported his arguments by referring to one of Ravenna’s monuments, the apse mosaic of Sant’Apollinare in Classe:

“We must, simply, trace the origin of art back to Christian sentiment, to the Christian necessity for understanding God’s infinite goodness. And if anyone objects that by the time became commonplace, Christianity had long existed and grown old, I will answer that while that is undeniably true, it does not change the fact that the first marvellous

130 BERNABÒ 2001, p. 2. 131 TOESCA 1927. 132 Ibidem, pp. 181–198. 133 Entries by Pietro Toesca in Enciclopedia Italiana (Cavallini, Pietro, EI IX (1931), pp. 546–547; Cimabue, Giovanni EI X (1931), pp. 245–246; Duccio di Buoninsegna EI XIII (1932), pp. 245–247; Giotto EI XVII (1933), pp. 211–219. 134 “Piuttosto che lo scadimento di concezioni e forme antiche dell’arte, il loro vivace tramutarsi nelle nuove che nella pittura bizantina maturarono sempre più, delle quali non i due mosaici di Giustiniano e Teodora, ma gli altri [a San Vitale stessa] rivelano la grandezza monumentale, il senso del colore e già il formarsi di certe stilizzazioni poi lungamente mantenute.” (TOESCA 1952, p. 20). 135 Lionello Venturi was an active participant in the Convegno per la Cultura Fascista di Bologna (taking place in 1925) and a signatory of the Manifesto degli intellettuali fascisti. He joined the anti-fascists in 1931 (BERNABÒ 2001, p. 9). 136 Ibidem, p. 9.

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and perfect landscape is from the sixth century. If you do not believe me, go and see at S. Apollinare in Classe near Ravenna”.137

In 1926, he published his most famous work, Il gusto dei primitivi,138 which summarises his views on medieval and Byzantine art. For his argument, Venturi used, among other things, a description of the colours and light in as seen by Paul the Silentiary in 563.139 The apse of the Sant’Apollinare in Classe is one of the two reproductions labelled “Arte bizantina”.140 Venturi was convinced that it was necessary to abandon Roman in favour of French , and to abandon the forms of Greek artists in favour of the decoration and colors of Byzantine artists.141 Fascism and its servants in the press made life difficult for scholars of Byzantine art. The biggest art exhibition in Europe in the year 1930 was surely the great exhibition of Italian art in London at the Royal . The exhibition was supported by Mussolini’s regime as propaganda for fascist Italy. Many of the most emblematic masterpieces of Italian art – Duccio, Giotto, Simone Martini, Ambrogio and Pietro Lorenzetti, Piero della Francesca, and Donatello – were exhibited. The Morning Post and the Daily Express praised Mussolini “for the wonderful gesture of courtesy and friendship made towards England”. In the following days, the Italian press systematically reproduced the artworks exhibited at the Royal Academy, promoting this success of Italian nationalism.142 At the time of the exhibition and the related nationalist propaganda campaign in the press, Lionello Venturi left for Paris, and Pietro Toesca wrote a letter to Bernard Berenson (1868–1959),143 describing the situation in art history as he saw it:

“There has been, in the Giornale d’Italia, a series of articles presenting me as a denigrator of Rome in favour of Byzantium; and this scholarly campaign – of liberation from all things foreign – has found its highest expression in a book by a certain Galassi (Roma o Bisanzio) published by the Libreria dello Stato. Perhaps I would already be exiled if that was in the power of these Misters who so vilely drag scholarship down to the level of politics and who up to a certain point seem to be acting as agents provocateurs. Fortunately, these provocations, like dogs barking from behind a gate, leave me indifferent, even if they do not favour my desire for serenity. Nor will I enter into a debate with persons acting in bad faith and without any expertise.”144

137 “L’origine dell’arte del paesaggio si deve dunque rintracciare semplicemente nel sentimento cristiano, nella necessità cristiana d’intendere il valore infinito di Dio. E a chi obiettasse che, quando la pittura di paesaggio si è diffusa, il cristianesimo esisteva da molto tempo ed era anzi invecchiato, risponderei che tale innegabile contingenza non impedisce che la prima meravigliosa e perfetta pagina paesistica risalga al VI secolo: e se non ci credete, andate a vederla in S. Apollinare in Classe presso Ravenna.” VENTURI 1926 [1929], p. 194 (cit. in BERNABÒ 2003, p. 143). 138 VENTURI 1926. 139 Ibidem, pp. 39–40. 140 Ibidem, Tav. 7. 141 VENTURI 1926, pp. 3–15. 142 BERNABÒ 2001, p. 2. 143 KULTERMANN 1990, pp. 180–181; CONNORS 2014. 144 “C’è stata nel Giornale d’Italia, una serie di articoli in cui ero presentato come un denigratore di Roma a beneficio di (...) Bisanzio; e questa campagna scientifica – di liberazione dallo straniero – ha trovato la sua più alta espressione in un volume di un certo Galassi (Roma o Bisanzio) edito dalla (...) Libreria dello Stato. Sarei forse già messo al confino se ciò fosse in podestà di questi messeri che trascinano così vilmente gli studi nella politica, e a un certo punto sembrano far opera di agenti provocatori. Per

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After the London exhibition of 1930, two others having the same aims were organised for 1937: La Mostra Augustea della Romanità in Rome, which was a celebration and confirmation of Latin identity and of the “westerness” of the Italian population (and Mussolini’s regime)145 and the exhibition Giotto at the Galleria degli Uffizi in , at which the Vasarian concept of Italian art was presented: it was partly descended from Byzantine art, but had been remodelled by the native Latin tradition, plastic and naturalistic.146 The former exhibition became, inter alia, an opportunity to resolve whether the Emperor Justinian was Byzantine or Roman. From a fascist and nationalist point of view, his greatness could not be credited to any other but to Roman civilization, and many arguments for Justinian’s belonging to romanitas were presented by Giorgio Pasquali in the entry for the 1930 Enciclopedia Italiana.147 Only after Justinian, according to Pasquali, was it possible to speak of Byzantine, Greek and Eastern decay. This rehabilitation of Justinian and the Roman Empire, which was now perceived as having survived until the sixth century, received official fascist endorsement, and was properly promoted at the exhibition Mostra augustea della Romanità. Giulio Quirino Gigliola, one of the participants of Convegno per la Cultura Fascista di Bologna and president of the Istituto di Studi Romani, commented on the exhibition like this:

“The exhibition carries the name Augustea, but it is also one of Romanness, all Romanness, from its humble legendary origins in the eighth century BC, to the codification of and the affirmation of the Church Triumphant as spiritual heir to Rome in the first half of the sixth century AD”.148

Nationalism also underlay the Giotto exhibition at the Galleria degli Uffizi, and a 1939 commentary on it (published in 1948) by Roberto Longhi.149 He defined Byzantine art as “non-arte”, and according to Enrico Castelnuovo, this had far-reaching consequences for Byzantine Studies in Italy.150 According to Massimo Bernabò, Longhi’s Giudizio sul liquidated the tradition of Byzantine studies in Italian art history for several decades.151

Orient oder Rom Again

During the Second World War, Ravenna was bombed, resulting in an intense post- queste provocazioni, come i latrati dietro il cancello, mi lasciano indifferente sebbene non favoriscano di certo il mio desiderio di serenità. Né, d’altra parte, io posso entrare in polemiche con persone di mala fede e di nessuno studio.” (Letter from Pietro Toesca to Bernard Berenson from 24 November 1930 (Biblioteca Berenson di Villa i Tatti. Published in BERNABÒ 2003, p. 99). 145 CATENACCI 2002. 146 MONCIATTI 2010. 147 Entry: art. Bizantina, EI VII, 1930, pp. 148–154. 148 “La mostra ha pertanto il nome di Augustea: essa è però anche della Romanità, di tutta la romanità, dalle umili origini leggendarie dell’VIII secolo av. Cr., fino alla codificazione del diritto romano e all’affermazione della Chiesa trionfante come erede spirituale di Roma, nella prima meta del VI secolo di nostra era.” Cit. from the catalogue Mostra Augustea della Romanità (1937) on p. IX. 149 LONGHI 1948. 150 CATELNUOVO 1986, pp. 8–9. 151 BERNABÒ 2001, p. 9. For a brief summary of Byzantine studies in Italy between 1960 and 2000, see BERNABÒ 2003, pp. 275–278, where the author laments the lack of interest in this field of research.

39 war campaign of excavations and restoration. This campaign led to new discoveries in the field of archaeology and art history. For art history, it seems, the only sensitive response to all of the above-mentioned debates was a positivist approach, something very evident in the life work of one of the most important personalities in Ravenna’s historiography, Giuseppe Bovini (1915–1975).152 Bovini significantly contributed to the post-war reconstruction of Ravenna and to its international reputation as an important centre for art-historical research in the field of early Christian and Byzantine studies. Between 1950 and 1960, he worked in Ravenna as the head of two important institutions, the Soprintendenza ai Monumenti and the Museo Nazionale. Bovini was primarily concerned with the restoration of the wall mosaics of Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo with the collaboration of the local Workshop-School of Mosaics. According to Massimiliano David “the work represented both a renewed interest in Ravena’s mosaics and the tourist development of Ravenna as the ‘city of mosaics’. Bovini’s encounter with the city had a huge impact and contributed decisively to creating its current image.”153 Starting in 1954, Bovini convened an annual conference entitled Corsi internazionali di cultura sull’arte ravennate e bizantina. The title Bovini’s aims in his research of Ravenna’s monuments: the widest possible interdisciplinary and international cooperation. The proceedings of these conferences were published under the title Corso di Cultura sull’Arte Ravennate e Bizantina (CARB). In 1960, Bovini became a professor of Christian archaeology at the Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia der Università degli Studi in Bologna, an institution that had played a prominent role in the post-war excavations. In 1963, Bovini founded the Istituto di Antichità Ravennati e Bizantine dell’Università di Bologna, the first university institution in Ravenna, which he led up to his death. In 1970, the journal Felix Ravenna also became his responsibility and that of his Istituto, and acquired the subtitle Rivista di antichita ravennati, cristiane e bizantina. Together with his students, he edited the Corpus della scultura paleocristiana, bizantina ed altomedioevale di Ravenna.154 It is very difficult to determine Bovini’s position in the question of East versus West. His approach was very traditional, strictly formalistic, and iconographic. It is impossible not to appreciate his contribution to analysing and cataloguing all of the important monuments of Ravenna during their post-war restoration. Nonetheless, we can, with some caution, say that Bovini’s approach was influenced by his position at the head of several important Ravennate institutions, and by the conception of the journal he edited. The idea of this journal was to open the study of Ravenna to scholars of other regions, and to free the field from a strictly regional approach. An examples of this approach is his comparison of the in the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia with the Christ in Hosios David.155 Bovini was

152 DEICHMANN 1988; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1995/1; Eadem, “Giuseppe Bovini”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 225–227. 153 DAVID 2013/1, p. 14. 154 BOVINI 1968/1969. 155 Idem 1970, pp. 334–335.

40 convinced (as were his followers) that all Ravennate pulvini from the period studied are analogous to those in Thessalonica (Rotonda, Hosios Demetrios).156 While Bovini sought to rebuild Ravenna to gain an international reputation and a careful mapping of all the preserved and lost Ravenna's monuments, sarcophagi and architectural that he considered from formal and iconographic point of view in his life’s work, another notable researcher in Ravenna’s historiography, the German archaeologist and byzantinist Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann (1909–1993)157 chose less traditional approach. The origin of Ravenna's monuments and their part in the Eastern or Western artistic tradition became one of the central themes of Deichmann’s work. The postwar rejection of fascist ideology and its condemnation and degradation of Byzantine art encouraged Deichmann to examine Ravenna’s monuments even more closely, and to compare them with monuments both from the eastern and western part of the Roman Empire. Deichmann began working in the Early Christian and Byzantine section of the Staatliche Museen in Berlin in 1934, and from 1937 to 1975 he worked at the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut in Rome as an expert on Christian archaeology. From 1963 to 1980 he was a co-editor of the periodical Byzantinische Zeitschrift.158 There was a need to synthesise the large number of studies of Ravenna’s monuments that had appeared since the late nineteenth century. Between 1969 and 1989, Deichamnn worked to fill this need with his five-volume work Ravenna, Hauptstadt des spätantiken Abendlandes. It is still the best tool for comprehensively understanding the history of the city and its monuments, a basic resource which this thesis will often refer to.159 Deichmann began writing about the archaeology and art of Ravenna in 1939, but an early book which he completed in 1943 has never been published, since the printing office was bombed and the only manuscript of the book destroyed. In 1952, he undertook a long journey to Constantinople and through the western Asia Minor, sharing his discoveries in Studien zur Architektur Konstantinopels im 5. und 6. Jahrhundert nach Christus (1956).160 With his comprehensive approach, Deichmann analysed monuments and architectural techniques, examined decorative stone sculpture from a formal perspective, and focused on proportional and material research of individual spaces. For Deichmann, Ravenna was a privileged place, independent of Rome and receptive to the most relevant stimuli from Constantinople, but blending them with the local Northern Italian tradition. This mixture of eastern and western thus created a specific art of Ravenna. Deichmann’s work is filled with reflections on the mobility of ideas and finished artefacts (especially architectural sculpture and sarcophagi).161

156 BOVINI / FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1969, pp. 79–83, nn. 151–172, figs 143, 144, 145, 146, 147. 157 Russo, Eugenio “Wilhelm Friedrich Deichmann”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 1, pp. 376–378 158 RUSSO 2010. 159 DEICHMANN 1974–1989. 160 Idem 1956. 161 E.g. Idem 1969/2, p. 306; Idem 1989, p. 273.

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According to Deichmann, Ravenna’s mosaics represent a clear evidence of cultural and artistic relations with the Orient, relations that can be discerned in Ravennate architecture as well. According to Deichmann, there must have existed local mosaic workshops in Ravenna, but workshops which produced under Oriental and Byzantine influence, rather than constituting a school of their own.162 Deichmann’s approach in this five-part of Ravenna’s monuments, the basic source for all modern scholarship on Ravenna, is thus in agreement with the approach of Pietro Toesca, a scholar condemned by the fascist regime. Deichmann’s personal acquaintance with the monuments studied, his presence at the most important post-war excavations, his almost mathematically accurate work with comparative material were all part of his exemplary scholarship, and his formal investigation of decorative features was typical of a time when formal investigation was considered as the only approach that could free art history from nationalist and fascist ideologies. Deichmann used this formal approach in an honest attempt to free art history from the politics that had corrupted it before the war. He was not the only Byzantinist to adopt this approach, but the fact that Deichmann was a German living between his homeland and Italy made his efforts stand out. After the war, West Germany sought to join NATO and the slowly emerging European Union. In this atmosphere, scholars sought to arrive at an understanding of what they termed “Western Civilisation”, i.e. the civilisation of Europe as a whole rather than the culture of any one nation-state. This attitude was easier for German scholars than for their counterparts elsewhere in Europe, since Germany had neither colonies nor issues with post- colonial immigration after the war. The ethnic self-determination of the nation was one of the reasons of the Second World War, but even after the war these efforts did not fade. Greek democracy, individualism, and Western capitalism were singled out as defining phenomena in this narrow history of the West. In opposition to them, once again, stood a vague “orientalism”, which has fully developed into what we now call multiculturalism.163 Thus we return to the same question, Orient oder Rom, with Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann, a German working in Italy, Byzantinist and connoisseur and admirer of Eastern cultures, standing on the other side of the barricade.

Summary

By tracing these main stages of research into Ravenna – stages, which correspond to the most significant political events in the history of the twentieth century – we can see that Ravenna is primarily a historiographical construct. Moreover, it has been a malleable construct, easily adaptable to sometimes completely contradictory theories. Thus Ravenna’s monuments, easy to grasp and concentrated geographically and historically, were used by

162 DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 353–356; RUSSO 2010, p. 272. 163 MARCHAND 2009, pp. 495–496.

42

Italian nationalists in the second half of the nineteenth century and served as examples of Italian art for the newly established state. The construct crossed the Alps at the turn of the century, and the city’s monuments became objects for the Viennese School of Art History’s Orient oder Rom debate. In that debate, the Ravenna’s monuments were used to argue that the Habsburgs’ multicultural Empire was the heir of Rome. For others, the eastern flavour of Ravenna’s monuments made them so purely oriental that they could be cited by Nazis seeking pure Aryan art. In Italy, meanwhile, “Byzantine” Ravenna became anathema to Italian fascists, and their attempts to westernise the city’s monuments were evident in major exhibitions and in the press. They aimed to kill off any doubts about the purely Roman roots of the Italian nation, and to thereby justify Mussolini’s expansionist, imperial ambitions. The period after World War II is still very difficult to objectively assess. Debates about multiculturalism and the concept of “Western civilization” continue, meaning that Ravenna’s monuments are as topical and significant as ever. Even after a century of discussion, it is clear that the search for “eastern” and “western” features in Ravenna’s monuments will go on. The collective publication Venezia e Bisanzio. Aspetti della cultura artistica bizantina da Ravenna a Venezia, V–XIV secolo (2005) is just one modern example of that search. Nonetheless, some of the contributors to that publication, namely Rafaela Farioli Campanati, Clementina Rizzardi, Silvia Pasi, Laura Pasquini, and Eugenio Russo, show that not all scholars feel the necessity to pigeon-hole Ravenna’s monuments.164 The present state of research makes it clear that unmistakable circulation of savoir faire, a certain inspiration of eastern art, as well as continuation of Western tradition considered by scholars throughout the centuries, cannot change nothing on the fact that Ravenna’s monuments call for a very individual approach to interpretation. From my perspective, the final appearance of the buildings, their decoration, and their furnishings were not determined only by the wishes of the patrons and their intentions to engage their orders into a broader political dialogue, but also by the purely material and practical aspects. The present study seeks to come out from my conviction that each surviving monument can be better understood by historical circumstances and through the interpretation of iconography, but also through its own materiality. With this conviction the thesis wants to cross the “frontiers” into which the Ravenna’s monuments got out after the centuries of ethnic and political debates.

164 RIZZARDI 2005/2.

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Part One:

Creation of a New sedes imperii

Port of Classe and Local Workshops

One aspect that made Ravenna an important mediator of exchange between East and West was, unquestionably, its geographical location on the Adriatic coast. In Late Antiquity, maritime routes through the Adriatic were linked to the Via Egnatia, which passed through the and to Constantinople, connecting key ports on the Adriatic and Aegean coasts with other important cities. This communication network enabled business activities as well as supporting cultural exchange.1 New archaeological discoveries are making it increasingly clear that Ravenna’s strategic location on the Adriatic coast, together with road connections with central and northern Italy, plus the river and a system of , made the city a leading maritime as well as commercial and redistributional centre.2 Ravenna’s topography was always characterized by coastal lagoons separated from the sea by a lane of elevated sand dunes, and with a large number of internal river flows and channels. Today Ravenna is located nine kilometers from the seashore, but in the Roman and Late Antique period, it was located right on the shore of the . In the imperial period, the inland river system, with a dense network of rivers and artificial channels, achieved an outstanding organizational level [Figs. 3, 4]. Almost every town in Northern Italy had a river port. One example will illustrate the importance of waterways in this period: ships sailing between Milan and Ravenna could travel this distance in three to four days, whereas by road the same journey would have taken at least eight days.3 Ravenna gained in importance with the establishment of a military port there on the order of Emperor Augustus between the years 35–12 BC. This port had the purpose of controlling piracy and ensuring safe travel across the Adriatic Sea to the eastern Mediterranean. Augustus chose this place due to its convenient location at the mouth of three major rivers.4 In order to ensure safe and stable anchorage, Augustus had to modify the natural hydrology of the region. He had a wide channel dug, leading southward from the main course of the Po along the eastern suburbs of Ravenna and continuing directly into the harbor’s lagoon. This “fossa Augusta” meant that at least until the end of the fifth century, Ravenna and its port had an easy connection with the system of navigable inland waters of North Italy. The channel was also designed to flood the harbor lagoon with relatively clean water from the River Po. This was to be the main means of keeping the port clear of the

1 MARANO 2016, p. 132. 2 AUGENTI/BERTELLI 2007; CIRELLI 2007/1, p. 45. 3 PATITUCCI UGGERI 2005, p. 279. 4 BOLLINI 1990.

45 sediment which came from the Apennines with every spring or autumn flood.5 According to , Augustus’ port – officially called the Praetoria Classis Ravennatis Pia Vindex – could provide anchorage for up to 240 ships.6 Since the is much less well documented than the army, our main sources of information are funeral inscriptions mentioning the ships of the deceased. The fleet commander at Ravenna held the title of praefectus classis, and was subordinated to the of the fleet based in Misenum, the second important military port founded by Augustus.7 Archaeological excavations in Classe have revealed channels that led from the walls of the ancient city, where the Porta Aurea was, to the sea. Starting at the beginning of the fifth century, many warehouses were built along these channels.8 The banks of the channels were protected by wooden pillars, and marble stairs allowed direct access to the channels for easy loading and unloading of goods.9 Thus the large trade and handicraft quarter of Classe was born, built on the ruins of suburban villas and burial areas dating to the prime years of Augustus’ port. Classe became one of the most important ports in the Mediterranean from the fifth to the seventh centuries, as confirmed by the quantity and types of unearthed at the site.10 The creation of Augustus’ fleet, and especially of the great permanent naval base, required significant investments. In addition to the construction and servicing of the ships, port operations demanded a constant supply of material; wood, resin for caulking, hemp for rigging, and fabric for the manufacture of sails, but also highly skilled labour, partly from the ranks of the sailors of the Augustus’ fleet. This enterprise also motivated the settlement of a large group of artisans, including sailors who left the fleet and stayed in Ravenna permanently, as evidenced by funeral inscriptions.11 The large number of ships that distributed goods across the skirted Ravenna through the above mentioned channel “fossa Augusta”. In addition to the military port of Augustus, there was also the Porto Coriandro, and even more relevant to our interests, the piazza called “San Giovanni in Marmorato”, likely a reference to the transport of marble.12 The port was not far from where Theodoric’s mausoleum was later built.13 Andrea Augenti and Enrico Cirelli have presented a of the results of excavations, which started in Classe in 2001.14 These results provide us unique insight into maritime trade at one of the largest ports in the late antique Mediterranean, as well as into the

5 UGGERI 1998; JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 51. 6 CIRELLI 2013, esp. p. 109. 7 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 28. 8 CIRELLI 2013, p. 109. 9 Ibidem, p. 115. 10 AUGENTI 2006/1; Idem 2006/2; Idem 2011/2012; AUGENTI/BONDI/CARRA 2006; AUGENTI/BEGNOZZI/BONDI 2012; AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012. 11 CIRELLI 2013, p. 110. 12 See pp. 62–65 of this work. 13 CIRELLI 2013, p. 116. 14 The excavations were organized by the Department of Archaeology of the Università di Bologna under the leadership of Prof. Andrea Augenti in collaboration with the Soprintendenza per i Beni Archeologici dell' and Fondazione RavennAntica.

46 organisation of the well-documented craftsmen who were present there, logically enough, in order to meet the demand for materials at Ravenna and elsewhere in northern Italy.15 The port of Classe was lined by a series of warehouses that were able to store huge quantities of goods, especially food. This was evidenced when archaeologists found thousands of potshards covering the archaeological site. It is precisely this pottery which demonstrates the key role that the harbor played in the distribution of food across almost the whole of northern Italy. The amforae found and the analysis of the goods stored in them serve not only as guides to everyday life. They also provide us with the information on trade routes and with information enabling us to accurately date commercial exchanges.16 It is estimated that the capacity of these warehouses, excavated by archaeologists between 2001 and 2005, exceeded the needs of the people of Ravenna and its suburb Classe.17 In five years of excavation, about 800,000 potshards were found.18 From these, we can identify the types of goods transported by ships arriving at Classe. From the beginning of the third century, imports were mainly from North , with a smaller quantity from the eastern Mediterranean or from local or other Italian sources. Between the fifth and seventh centuries, the imported wine from the eastern Mediterranean, and to a lesser extent from southern Italy and Egypt, as well as lighting oil, grain, and salsamenta (fish sauce) from . From a quantitative point of view, the main trading partners between the fifth and the mid-sixth centuries were North Africa and the Eastern Mediterranean. Food, and especially wine, was brought from northern Italy.19 For whom were the goods in these warehouses intended? Some were certainly destined for the people of Ravenna and Classe, whose number increased starting in 402 thanks to the imperial court. The presumed number of inhabitants at that time was 10,000.20 Despite this increase in population, Ravenna was still a city of medium size in comparison with Constantinople (300,000 to 500,000) or Rome (300,000 to 350,000). The approximate number of ships and warehouses needed to supply Constantinople has been calculated. With this as a basis, and considering the capacity of the buildings in the port of Classe, Enrico Cirelli argues that the warehouses in Classe were built to store food for more than 30,000 people. This number, however, may be conservative since it is based only on what archaeologists have found so far. Topographical studies make us suspect that the place where the warehouses were located had an area of four hectares. Because archaeologists have only explored about a quarter of the whole, the late-antique port of Classe may have stored goods for more than 120,000 people. Because these figures far exceed the needs of the local population, it seems that Classe served as an important distribution centre.21

15 AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012. 16 CIRELLI 2007/1. 17 AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012, p. 207. 18 Ibidem, p. 212. 19 AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012, p. 207 20 COSENTINO 2005, pp. 411–412. 21 AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012, pp. 215–216.

47

In addition, archaeologists have uncovered evidences for craft production in Classe. During excavations from 2001 to 2005, shards were found from various stages of glass production, and this activity has been dated to the fifth and sixth centuries. In the seventies of the twentieth century, a small furnace was discovered [Fig. 5]22 and the most likely explanation is that it served for glass production, since a large amount of broken glass was found at the same site. Moreover, slag and traces of wrought iron were found near warehouse number 9, and have been dated to the fifth century. Finally, partially-processed bones were found near warehouses 8, 17 and 18 in layers dated to the sixth and seventh centuries. Activity in the harbor at Classe is documented from the early fifth to the ninth centuries, and it is more than probable that manufacturing formed part of the port’s economy also from the other reasons:23 Especially for ceramic, glass, and stonecutters’ workshops, all of which share some of their material requirements, the port of Classe was a particularly suitable location. In Late Antiquity, a significant number of these workshops were located outside urban centres and near water sources, or near major roads. These craftsmen were forced to work in suburban areas for several reasons. The first was easy access to supplies of materials carried mainly by ship, and the ready availability of water itself, necessary especially for ceramic and stone production. Glass and ceramic production also had to be isolated because of the fire hazard they represented to the mostly wooden buildings in antique cities, and also because of the annoying smoke and toxic fumes they produced.24 They also needed large amounts of fuel, and in Classe, artisans could obtain at least some of this fuel from dismantled ships or from surplus material for the constructions of ships and houses. A law mentioned in a treatise by the fourteenth-century lawyer Armenopoulos prohibited glassmakers from working within city walls, and this law seems to have been in effect throughout the Byzantine period.25 In some cases, despite this law, these craftsmen settled within a city (e.g. in Thessalonica or in Bet She'an in Israel), but if this was the case, the craftsmen built their workshops in uninhabited areas of the city.26 The fact that glassmakers worked at a safe distance from the populated area also earlier is clear in the sixth-century town planning treatise by the Palestinian architect of Ashkelon.27 In 402 Honorius decided to relocate his court to a town which had, like many other towns of northern Italy, significantly declined in the third and the fourth centuries.28 Rebuilding of the older settlement would require sophisticated organization, planning, and construction. Only thanks to this enormous effort could Ravenna become, as it did in the first half of the fifth century, a real sedes imperii worthy to host ceremonies demonstrating imperial

22 MAIOLI 1980. 23 Eadem 1980, p. 208. 24 DELL'ACQUA 2004, p. 135; FRANÇOIS/SPIESER, p. 605. 25 Armenopoulos, pp. 117–118; cit. in ANTONARAS 2013, p. 189, n. 1. 26 For Thessaloniki see ANTONARAS 2013, p. 189, n. 1; For Bet She'an see GORIN-ROSEN 2000, p. 59. 27 Cit. in DELL'ACQUA 2004, pp. 137–138. 28 E.g. MANZELLI 2000, pp. 238–241.

48 and ecclesiastical authority. At the same time, Classe became an important port through which supplies of various goods streamed to the whole of northern Italy.29 The port also became an ideal base for various craft workshops and warehouses of material, and due to its favourable location and easy access by sea and river, a place of active exchange, on many levels, between the major cities of the Roman Empire.30

29 CIRELLI 2007/1. 30 AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012.

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50

ARCHITECTURE

Architectural form and the intentions of individual patrons have always had a privileged place in studies devoted to Ravenna’s architecture and its decoration. Therefore, there is no need to present a survey of all the monuments of Ravenna, nor even a broad introduction to their cultural context. The starting point of the present chapter is the assumption that the appearance of a building is a result of many aspects, beginning with planning, organization of a supply of materials, and organization of labor, and ending with actual construction and the final decoration. Not only Ravenna’s geographical location and its status as a new imperial residence, but also the fact that so many of its buildings have survived with their decoration, make the city particularly useful for examining the exchanges on which Late Antique craft practice was based. This chapter aims to show that the craftsmen involved in building the new sedes imperii worked in a cosmopolitan environment. I will focus on architecture and architectural elements, and show the ways in which different ideas circulated – in other words, how Late Antique organization of work, along with mobile labor and models, determined the development of Ravenna’s architecture.

Founding Cities in Late Antiquity

Statements that emperors fortified walls and built palaces and other public buildings that bishops built churches, or that members of the military and administrative aristocracy built houses are not entirely accurate. Emperors and bishops were indeed called “great builders”,1 but these patrons, while obviously important, were only a part of the whole process. We know much less about the individuals who used their theoretical and technological knowledge to meet the wishes of those patrons, the men who could transform raw material into public buildings, and those who adorned them with mosaics and other decorative elements. A planner was absolutely crucial to the whole process. He had to be both architect and engineer, in the modern sense of the words, because it was his responsibility to make sure that the patron was satisfied with the completed structure.2 An exceptional written source provides us with a clear idea of the duties of the court architect, from Ostrogothic Ravenna. In a famous passage in his Variae, reported the appointment of a curator palatii:

“When we are thinking of rebuilding a city or founding new forts, we would be delighted if you could build for us the pleasantness of a praetorium, and we shall rely upon you to bring our ideas to everybody’s eyes. The mason, the marble-cutter, the brass-maker, the builder of vaults,

1 See more in ZANINI 2007, pp. 382–383. 2 Ibidem, p. 384.

51

the plasterer, and the mosaicist all will ask you about anything they are unsure of, and so, an army of artisans will come to you for orders, so as to avoid any kind of mistake.”3

Cassiodorus thus gives evidence for the organizational and conceptual role of the Late Antique court architect. He is charged with making the Emperor’s idea “visible” as well as managing construction. He also shows that public buildings were “centrally” planned by the Emperor. A similar process was typical in the East. In his study focused on the eastern part of the Empire, Enrico Zanini gives a particularly good example of a newly founded town, and on the basis of written sources, tries to reconstruct the entire building process. The walled city of Dara was founded in Mesopotamia by Emperor Anastasius between 505 and 507. The process of its foundation is described in detail in the chronicle of Zacharias Scholasticus (465– 536).4 The commanders of the Imperial army decided to build a new fort on the Persian front, and on the basis of their strategic requirements, they selected several possible locations. The emperor appointed the Bishop of Amida, near where the fort was to be built, to oversee every step of construction. The bishop sent a skilled topographer to draw a map of the area. This map was then sent to Constantinople, permitting the Emperor and his architects to choose the best place. The Bishop of Amida was charged with hiring all necessary personnel. He hired many local craftsmen, but also employed craftsmen from Constantinople.5 A few decades later, when Dara was often flooded by the rivers that crossed it, Chryses of Alexandria, the mechanopoios in the city, again requested intervention from the capital. In Constantinople, Justinian called upon Isidore of Miletus and of Tralles. The Emperor and his two court mechanikoi developed a plan which was then sent to Chryses to help him build a system of reservoirs and regulators of water flow.6 Procopius (500–554), the narrator of the flooding and its aftermath, explicitly highlights the role of the architects Anthemius and Isidore.7 Like the architect mentioned by Cassiodorus, they possessed sophisticated theoretical and practical knowledge of architecture and of engineering. Each of them wrote important theoretical treatises in the field of geometry and statics. This strong theoretical foundation allowed the two famous men to design the of Hagia Sophia, as well as to participate in the planning of cities and the construction of dams in distant Mesopotamia. Enrico Zanini concludes that this “centralized” planning of new cities was the rule rather than the exception in Late Antiquity.8 Even if all the sources mentioned above come from a bit later periods than this work is focused on, several other

3 “Nam sicubi aut civitatem reficimus aut castellorum volumus fundare novitatem vel si construendi nobis praetorii amoenitas blandiatur, te ordinante ad oculos perducitur quod nobis cogitantibus invenitur [. . .] Quicquid aut instructor parietum aut sculptor marmorum aut aeris fusor aut camerum rotator aut gypsoplastes aut musivarius ignorat, te prudenter interrogat et tam magnum ille fabrilis exercitus ad tuum recurrit iudicium, ne possit aliquid habere confusum”. (Cassiodorus, Var. VII, 5, pp. 204–205; English translation in ZANINI 2007, p. 385, n. 19 and 20). 4 Zacharias Scholasticus, Hist. Eccl., 7.6, pp. 164–168. 5 The source is analyzed in Zanini 2007, p. 386. 6 Procopius, De Aedificiis, 2.3, pp. 117–121, cit in ZANINI 2007, p. 387. For mechanikoi see MANGO 1976, pp. 14–15. For profession of the architect in Byzantium in general see SCHIBILLE 2009. 7 Procopius, De Aedificiis, 2.3, pp. 119. 8 ZANINI 2007, p. 387.

52 important phenomena emerging from Zanini’s analysis can be for its validity throughout the whole late antique period, with caution, applied to Ravenna as well. First, Zacharias explains how the whole construction process took place, and vividly depicts exchanges of technical information between the center of the Empire and its periphery. Second, the whole process was structured hierarchically, i.e. the main elements of city planning were directly controlled by the emperor. For these public projects, highly specialized technicians were hired, while local manpower was used for the actual implementation of the projects. And third, in these newly established towns, the theoretical knowledge – the technology – of the architect had to adapt itself to the local material culture, and vice versa. Local artisans who used traditional regional construction techniques worked side by side with architects from elsewhere, probably from one of the major cities of the empire. In the case of Dara, Constantinople supplied the know-how, as documented by both written and archaeological sources. For Ravenna, it seems that the situation was more complicated. Apart from Cassiodorus, we have no written sources, and nothing like what Enrico Zanini had access to when he described the construction of Dara. It is therefore necessary that we turn to the monuments of Ravenna themselves. In many cases, these monuments show how ideas, men, and material arrived in the new sedes imperii. If we start at the very beginning, several questions arise: What tasks did the Emperor give the architects? What material was available and from where? From the technological and artistic point of view, what models were used?

Ravenna in the Year 400

The architect(s) who started the project must have had great experience and a broad theoretical foundation, because at Ravenna they dealt with a challenging geological and hydrological situation.9 The city walls had to be designed to account for water flows both inside and outside the fortified area.10 The watery, unstable ground under Ravenna presented problems during the construction of the buildings themselves, making it necessary to elevate stone foundations on wooden piles. The difficulties of construction are documented in a written source referring to the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, the Tractatum aedificationis ecclesiae sancti Johannis Evangelistae de Ravenna.11 Archaeology provides further evidence: wooden piles were found under the walls of the so-called Palace of Theodoric and under the Basilica of the Holy Cross.12 For our purposes, it is particularly interesting to note that the same technique of construction was found in Milan under the Baths of , as well as below

9 RONCUZZI/VEGGI 1968; FABBRI 1991; Idem 2001. 10 CHRISTIE 2011, p. 155; DAVID 2013/2, p. 21. 11 Tractatum aedificationis ecclesiae sancti Johannis Evangelistae de Ravenna = (published in) Rerum Italicarum scriptores, I/2, Muratori, Lodovico Antonio ed., Bologna 1725, pp. 567–572; cit. in RIGHINI 1991, p. 203. More about the source see ZANGARA 2000, p. 275 ss. 12 RIGHINI 1991, p. 203.

53 the Church of .13 Another example of unusual construction techniques is the vaulting of the so-called “Mausoleum” of Galla Placidia. In this building, the tiles were laid on an insulating layer of amphorae (type Keay 26 spatheia) produced in North Africa between the fourth and seventh centuries. This secondary use of amphorae as a building material was also found in the Chapel of S. Aquilino in Milan.14 The architects of Ravenna knew how to build over unstable subsoil, had sophisticated way of vaulting which also insulates the building, and enjoyed a high social status at court. Thus it is likely that architects from the previous imperial residence, Milan, were responsible for building Ravenna. The most of the earlier buildings in Ravenna were in ruins around 400.15 Archaeological surveys of many of them have uncovered signs of fire, while others were abandoned or adapted for other functions between in the late third or fourth centuries.16 The site of Ravenna thus provided enough space for all the public buildings needed at the sedes imperii, but also building material for immediate use as well even if we do not know to what extent the older material was reused. This material mostly consisted of bricks and decorative marble elements.17 Even though Ravenna’s fifth-century city walls and churches were built of re-used bricks that might not have been older than the third century, the production of new bricks was soon begun in Ravenna, probably even in the fifth century.18 Barbara Vernia proposed evidence of new bricks in some fifth-century buildings in Ravenna, and suggests that brick production in Ravenna was never interrupted. These are corner bricks of very precise dimensions, used for the construction of the Orthodox Baptistery. Like ’s Baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti in Milan, most of the Orthodox Baptistery is constructed of re-used bricks. But in both locations, the bricks used for exterior corners, cut to form the corners of an octogon, were probably produced expressly for this purpose. This technique was, in fact, a fourth -century innovation. Barbara Vernia also suggests that completely new bricks were used in the arched lintels in the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, and the Basilica Apostolorum (today’s Basilica of St. Francis).19 Vernia further suggests that systematic re-use of bricks, even in very prestigious buildings, demonstrates the speed with which it was necessary to build the new city. Material obtained from abandoned buildings, and in several cases, perhaps from their systematic demolition, was the most economical and the easiest way to acquire the necessary supply of material. There was no shortage of bricks for recycling at the new sedes imperii; all of the

13 RIGHINI 1991, p. 205. 14 DAVID 1991; Idem 2013/2, p. 17. 15 MANZELLI 2000, pp. 238–241. 16 CIRELLI 2008, pp. 52–54. 17 In late anitiquity stumps of , useless even for patching together into shafts, were universally popular for mosaic and opus sectile floors (hence roundels). For flooring, stumps were sliced, salami-like, into roundels (GREENHALGH 2009, p. 189). Other marble items like , wall revetments, or other fragments that could not be in any way exploited probably ended up in lime kilns (VERNIA 2009, p. 29). 18 RIGHINI 1991, p. 212. 19 VERNIA 2009, p. 155.

54 monuments from the period in question were built by laying bricks in a regular manner, and never with the opus spicatum technique which was sometimes employed in Late Antiquity for economic reasons.20

Production of Decorative Elements

A significant feature of late antique architecture in general is the use of spoliated marble architectural elements.21. The high price, luxurious connotations, and durability of marble made it exceptionally desirable material for re-use.22 Capitals are often reworked in various ways to make them compatible with columns. They could sometimes be even completely re-carved or, conversely, used as the base of a column.23 From what we know of basilicas in Rome, we would guess that individual elements from different periods and places were combined. Re-used pieces may have been partially or completely recarved, and new pieces were made where necessary.24 These architectural elements were often combined in creative and unorthodox ways. Over the course of her work on Roman churches, Maria Hansen came to the conclusion that in Late Antiquity, the combination of new and old elements and different types of capitals and architectural orders within a single row of columns was desired,25 however, the concept of varietas was not a rule. The Roman Basilicas of St. Sabina or St. Peter in Chains demonstrate a parallel tradition which prefered homogenity of material26 and this trend seems to be prevailing also in Ravenna.27 The surviving architectural elements from Ravenna from our period are in a fragmentary state so it is difficult to determine the proportion of re-used to newly produced material.28 Nonetheless, a few pieces document the late antique tradition of spoliation. They are the eight capitals of the ground floor of the Orthodox Baptistery of which six are composite capitals dating back to second century and the other two of Corinthian type to the fourth century. Since their bases and shafts rest on an elevated ground level which is not original they can belong neither to the original structure of the baptistery around 400 nor to

20 VERNIA 2009. For more on opus spicatum see DEICHMANN 1989, p. 245. 21 For studies focused especially on Ravenna see: DEICHMAN 1989, p. 273; ZANOTTO 2005; Eadem 2007; Eadem 2009; JÄGGI 2013/2. On spolia in general see: BRENK 1987; KINNEY 1997; Eadem 2001; ELSNER 2004; GREENHALGH 2009, pp. 79–81. 22 GREENHALGH 2009, p. 40. E.g. production of a new Ionian capital took 45 days of work. See ibidem, p. 33, n. 1. 23 Ibidem, p. 194. 24 BRANDENBURG 2011, pp. 64, 67. For more about the combination of spolia and new elements see BRANDENBURG 1996; GREENHALGH 2009, pp. 53–57. 25 HANSEN 2015, p. 10. 26 Eadem, p. 119. 27 JÄGGI 2013/2, p. 320. 28 According to Carola Jäggi the spolia played only a subordinate role in late antique Ravenna (JÄGGI 2013/2, p. 293), while Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis is convinced that “in Ravenna most of the churches of the fifth century followed this trend and included sculptural elements taken from earlier Roman structures”. Nonetheless, the author does not offer many examples throughout her work to support her hypothesis of such a widespread use of spolia (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 18). See also DEICHMANN 1969, p. 155; idem 1989, p. 273; ZANOTTO 2005 and eadem 2009.

55 the reconstruction by bishop Neon after the mid-fifth century, we cannot mark them as a deliberate decision of a patron of using the spoils in the fifth century.29 It can only testify that the old elements were something in use during the fifth century but we know nothing about their origin as well as about reasons of their reuse in the fifth century. The first example of broader and well-planned use of spoils (in combination with new elements) come from the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist built by Galla Placidia after 425.30 Two rows of columns separate the nave from the aisles. The bases, shafts and capitals are spoils of two types with proposed dating from the first to fourth century, while pulvini were made in the fifth century.31 We know a little bit more about the elements from the period in question produced ex novo which all are made of Proconnesian marble.32 These are Corinthian capitals and pulvini in the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist,33 the composite capitals currently in the Museo nazionale of Ravenna,34 the capitals “a due zone” (Museo arcivescovile of Ravenna),35 and some Ionian capitals from the Orthodox Baptistery.36 Surviving liturgical furnishings from this period are also rare, and include only the mensa currently in the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist,37 an ambon from the Orthodox Baptistery,38 and several fragments of plutei39 and cornici.40 Other vestiges of architectural elements were uncovered during excavations of the Basilica of the Holy Cross between 1970 and 1990.41 A set of 24 newly produced columns made of Proconnesian marble in the mid-fifth-century, together with matching capitals and pulvini, has survived in the Basilica Apostolorum (today’s Basilica of St. Francis).42 This relatively fragmentary corpus of architectural elements does not give us more than a vague impression.43 Moreover, in many cases it is difficult to determine whether the surviving architectural elements are spolia in their original state, recarved spolia, or completely new elements. One of the characteristic features of Ravenna’s architecture, however, provides us with

29 DEICHMANN 1974, p. 22; ZANOTTO 2007, p. 84; JÄGGI 2013/2, p. 295. On the Baptistery see more on pp. 183–186 of this work. 30 On the Church of St. John the Evangelist, see pp. 168–171 of this work. 31 On the discussion on the dating, see JÄGGI 2013/2, p. 299. Rita Zanotto underlines the importance of Galla’s desire to show her romanitas (ZANOTTO 2009, p. 284) while Hugo Brandenburg suggests that it can be explained by the fact that in the period of Galla’s reign there was no local workshop able to produce new pieces in sufficient number (BRANDENBURG 1996, pp. 23-48). 32 JÄGGI 2013/2, p. 301. 33 BOVINI/FARIOLI 1969, pp. 9, 19–21, nn. 4–10, figs 3–9. 34 Ibidem, pp. 27–29, nn. 31–34, figs 30–33. 35 Ibidem, nn. 43–46, figs 42–45. 36 Ibidem, p. 40, n. 62, fig. 61; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 249. 37 ANGIOLINI MARTINELLI / BOVINI 1968, n. 1, p. 17. 38 Ibidem, p. 25, n. 16. 39 Ibidem, p. 51–53, nn. 51–62. 40 Ibidem, p. 41, nn. 37, 38, 39, 40. 41 Detailed catalogue of all the elements in NOVARA 2008, pp. 112–122. 42 BOVINI/FARIOLI 1969, pp. 79–83, nn. 151–71; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 252; MARANO 2016, p. 127; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 135–136. 43 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 249.

56 much more information about construction and aesthetics in fifth-century Ravenna. These are the so-called pulvini. Their use and decoration do not belong to the Western tradition, and scholars have used them as evidence of “direct relations between the two capitals”, i.e. Ravenna and Constantinople.44 A pulvinus is a marble block placed between the capital and the beginning of the arcade [Fig. 6]. It has a static and decorative function, and was a widespread element in the eastern part of the Empire, especially in Greece and the eastern Mediterranean during the fifth and sixth centuries.45 The pulvini in Ravenna were probably newly produced, but they were combined with old elements; in the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, for example, a pulvinus is combined with a capital of Corinthian type, probably from a third-century building [Fig. 7]. Raffaela Farioli Campanati considers pulvini an innovative feature, thinks their first appearance at Ravenna was in the Church of St. John the Evangelist, and attributes them to “influence from Constantinople”.46 Thus she arrives at the same conclusion as Wilhelm Friedrich Deichmann, who saw a connection with Constantinople in the decorative patterns of the pulvini. Deichmann draws our attention, above all, to the chrismon in a circle or crown, a pattern appearing repetitively on Ravennate as well as Constantinopolitan sarcophagi, e.g. the famous sarcophagi from the Silivri-Kapı Mausoleum in Constantinople [Figs 8, 9].47 Farioli Campanati thinks all pulvini were imported from Constantinople, and argues that we have no evidence of northern Italian sculptors specialized in this type of architectural decoration.48 These scholars see the systematic use of pulvini at Ravenna as a sign of a closer relationship with Constantinople in the time of Galla Placidia. Although this explanation seems reasonable, from my perspective it is too abstract and raises more questions than it answers: do the eastern features of Ravenna’s architecture, including the use of pulvini, mean that the eastern architects and craftsmen came to Ravenna to build the great churches of the new imperial residence because there were no experienced local craftsmen? Or were they invited to Ravenna “to lend Constantinopolitan luster to Ravennate structures”, as Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis asks?49 According to Deliyannis, these eastern masters could have adopted some local techniques. Or was use of pulvini a foreign trait adopted by local masters, and if so, why?50 What were the practical reasons for using the pulvini? How could a “Constantinopolitan” fashion reach Ravenna? And finally, can we so simply call pulvini an “import from Constantinople”, and if so, what evidence do we have for such trade in marble objects?

44 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 251. 45 BOVINI/FARIOLI 1969, pp. 79–83, nn. 151-172, figs 143, 144, 145, 146, 147 compare all the examples with the pulvini from Thessaloniki (St. Demerius, Rotonda). All the examples from the catalogue are from the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, except n. 177 on p. 83 which from the period of Bishop Neon (450–473), today in the Church of St. Francis. See also RUSSO 2005, p. 91. 46 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 251. 47 DEICHMANN 1969/1, p. 63. On the mausoleum of Silivri-Kapı in Istanbul see KOCH 2000, p. 419; DECKERS 2004, p. 36; FOLETTI/MONNEY 2013. 48 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 251. 49 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 18. 50 Ibidem.

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In order to answer these questions, I think it is legitimate to try to examine Ravenna’s architecture from a “currently fashionable”51 archaeological perspective, one that has been called “marble studies”, and which was founded by Bryan Ward-Perkins.52 In his research, he worked in the conviction that understanding how the marble trade was organized is essential for any art historical study.53 New discoveries of late antique quarries and their archaeological exploration, surveys of the wrecks of ships, which carried architectural elements in the Mediterranean, and the archaeometric analysis of marble have all made considerable progress in recent years.54 Understanding how the marble trade was organized, and how stonemasons’ workshops functioned, can help us to appreciate why certain structural components were used. And we now know that their final appearance can be at least partly explained by specific architectural and stonemasonry techniques. By including the marble studies in our art- historical discussion, I am to explain the connection of pulvini with the East, and thereby achieve a better understanding of material culture at the new sedes imperii. And whether Ravennate builders worked with spolia or with newly produced components, we must always keep in mind a place called Marmorata – the marble yard of the city, as we will presently explain.

Marble in Late Antiquity

Marble, as a material, is very difficult to process. It is very expensive and difficult to transport. The large quantity of building material required for the construction of the new imperial residence therefore necessitated, besides a large team of skilled craftsmen to work it, a highly organized system for supplying it. Examination of columns in Ravenna’s churches, as well as sarcophagi, has revealed that the majority of them were carved from marble quarried on the Proconnesus (today’s Marmara Island).55 Proconnesian marble was popular in the Mediterranean in the fifth and sixth centuries partly because it was good-quality stone, and partly because it could be supplied economically. The quarries of Proconnesus were close to the sea, facilitating transport by ship.56 For this reason, Proconnesian marble is among the cheapest of those listed in the Emperor ’s (284–305) Price Edict.57 Because its target market was so near, Proconnesian marble was, at the time of Diocletian, used for his construction projects in Nicomedia, and later on for many of Constantine’s and Theodosius’

51 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 2. 52 WARD-PERKINS/DODGE 1992. 53 WARD-PERKINS 1961 [1992], p. 121. 54 For shipwrecks see (most recently) RUSSELL 2013/2. On archeometric analysis see especially ATTANASIO/BRILLI/OGLE 2006. Many of the most recent examinations come from the activity of the Association for the Study of Marble and Other Stones used in Antiquity (ASMOSIA). For the volumes published by ASMOSIA up to 2013 see RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 2, n. 6; the most recent volume PENSABENE/GASPARINI 2015; CASTAGNINO BERLINGHIERI / PARIBENI 2015. 55 On the columns see HARPER 1997, p. 132. On the sarcophagi see KOCH 2000, p. 398. 56 HARPER 1997, p. 133. For all the ways of transporting stone see RUSSELL 2013/2, pp. 95–140. 57 RUSSELL 2013/1, pp. 33–36; MARANO 2016, p. 114.

58 building projects in Constantinople.58 We also know a great deal about how stone was shipped between quarry and final destination, thanks mainly to archaeological surveys of shipwrecks.59 The production of architectural elements, as well as of sarcophagi, involves at least three parties: a customer, a stonemasonry workshop, and a quarry. Cooperation between all three was easy if they were close to each other, but more complicated if stone had to be delivered over long distances. In the latter case, migrant stonemasons or other independent agents or businessmen were included in the process.60 Questions about how these parties interacted are hotly debated. At what stage of the production process were the architectural elements or sarcophagi transported to their final destination, and who was responsible for their final appearance? At this point we will need to separate the production of architectural elements from the production of sarcophagi, because for sarcophagi, the relationship between customer and producer was in all likelihood much more exclusive; sarcophagi were less frequently standardized or prefabricated than architectural elements.61 For this reason Ravennate sarcophagi will be subject of a separate chapter of this work.62 Here I will try to outline the debate mentioned above, even though it has not been definitively resolved. This will help to explain the systematic use of pulvini in Ravenna’s fifth-century monuments and their “Constantinopolitan aesthetics”.

Quarries

It is generally thought that architectural elements were only roughed-out in the quarry and then finished at their final destination.63 Such a procedure guaranteed a considerable reduction of transport weight, enabled defects to be detected early, and prevented sculpted details from being damaged during transport.64 James Harper suggests that prepared blocks were transported from quarries to workshops near Constantinople. There stonemasons designed and partially carved decorative patterns on the surfaces of the blocks, and then send them to their final destinations. This hypothesis presents those workshops as a sort of interface between quarry and final destination.65 Shipwrecks give evidence that quarries exported unfinished elements. A Roman ship wrecked near Marzamemi (the so-called “church wreck” of Marzamemi) was transporting a set of semi-finished architectural elements for a great basilica.66 Scholars cite the so-called “Şile shipwreck” as evidence for serial production of columns, capitals and statues. With the

58 MARANO 2016, p. 114. 59 ALESIO/ZACCARIA 1997; JURIŠIĆ 2000; RUSSELL 2013/1, pp. 110–128; RUSSELL 2013/2; MIHAJLOVIĆ 2013. 60 RUSSELL 2011, p. 123–124. 61 RILLIET-MAILLARD 1990, p. 175; HARPER 1997. 62 See pp. 71–88 of this work. 63 ASGARI 1995, pp. 271–275. 64 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 215. 65 HARPER 1997, p. 138. 66 MARANO 2016, p. 117 with previous bibliography in n. 18.

59 exception of two finished columns, the whole cargo of this ship, even a of an unidentified Emperor, is in unfinished state.67 However, other findings from quarries show a completely different practice. In some cases, capitals were finished in the quarries and then transported. Completed capitals and column bases have been found in the quarry of Proconnesus and in the Pentelic quarries.68 And to confuse things even more, William Earl Betsch suggests that some sophisticated marble carvings were completed at the construction site in sixth-century Ravenna, possibly by a foreign workshop.69 Due to the considerable disparity between these findings, we can safely conclude that the marble trade was, at one and the same time, organized according to several parallel models. With respect to Ravenna, it seems unlikely that marble blocks were roughed out at Proconnesus, then sent to hypothetical “imperial marble yards” near Constantinople for finishing by Constantinopolitan masons, and the re-loaded on ships for export to Ravenna.70 This, however, seems to be the hypothesis of researchers who explain the “proximity” of Ravennate stone sculpture to that of Constantinople by labeling the Ravennate pieces “imported”, without further clarifying the idea.71 For Ravenna, we have no evidence that such an intermediate stage existed – and no wonder, because it would not have been very economical. Maritime transport, although still more economical than river or land transport, was very expensive and logistically challenging.72 A certain similarity in technique and a visual resemblance to “constantinopolitan” sculpture, as well as the use of pulvini, can be more easily explained by migrant stonemasons, for whose activity we have indisputable epigraphic evidence.73 The marble trade was a logistically challenging one, and as such was not very conducive to experimentation. But ideas, models, and techniques must have circulated very extensively in the Mediterranean, thanks to the most flexible element in the production process – the craftsmen themselves.

Negotiator marmorarius and Migrant Craftsmen

There is no doubt that qualified stonemasons, capable of detailed work with marble, were sometimes present at the quarries themselves; after all, completely finished architectural elements have been found at some quarries74 but we do not know who these stonemasons were. They may have been specialists who settled permanently near the quarries, ready to fulfill orders directly from customers or from local workshops located nearer to construction sites. For specific orders, it may have been necessary for architects to send workers from the

67 BEYKAN 1988. 68 ASGARI 1995; RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 214; MARANO 2016, p. 116. 69 BETSCH 1977; cfr. DEICHMANN 1969/1, p. 63; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 251. 70 HARPER 1997, p. 138; ASGARI 1995, pp. 269–275; MARANO 2016, p. 116. 71 DEICHMANN 1969/1, p. 63; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 251. 72 For the ways of transporting stone see RUSSELL 2013, pp. 95–140. 73 On the evidences of migrant carvers see RUSSELL 2013, pp. 332–336. 74 WARD-PERKINS 1951, p. 103.

60 construction site to the quarries to ensure that the material was appropriate; once the material was approved, masons could execute the final carving right there at the quarry.75 For important orders, these individuals could be present at every stage of the manufacturing process. These specialized intermediaries, the so-called negotiator marmorarius or redemptore marmorarius, could also look after the shipping of the pieces.76 While Cassiodorus testifies to the prominent role of the architect, Ben Russell attaches particular importance to the redemptores marmorarii. They were responsible for recruiting and organizing labor, and for securing materials.77 Prominent architects probably frequently turned to these redemptores. The redemptores played a key role in architectural production and served as a vital link between the quarry and the construction site, as well as a link between workers and architect. The architect could allow the redemptores to manage as much of the whole process as he saw fit. It is likely that some of these specialists had close contacts with the quarries they often visited. Some may even have owned quarries, and others could acquire material for the same building from different quarries according to the specific requirements of their clients.78 As mentioned above Milanese craftsmen who arrived with the Emperor were probably involved in the construction of Ravenna. They were familiar with brickwork and with recycling such material. Nonetheless, the patrons and architects of major and important projects must have turned to redemptores who could be hired from anywhere, since these redemptores were able to supply high-quality material, as well as skilful workers from different regions.79 Under similar circumstances, Greek stonemasons working with Pentelic marble were present in Rome and in North Africa, and stonemasons from Asia Minor working exclusively with Proconnesian marble have been documented in the Levant, North Africa and Italy.80 Epigraphic evidence confirms that stonemasons moved around and sometimes settled far from place of their origin if demand for their work was stronger there.81 Inscriptions mentioning craftsmen from Proconnesus, living and working far from their island, have been found at several locations on the Aegean and in the Eastern Mediterranean.82 It is even conceivable that stonemasons could have traveled just to complete one or more specific commissions.83

75 WARD-PERKINS 1951, pp. 269–270. 76 For the sources see RUSSELL 2013/1, pp. 204–207, 270. 77 Ibidem, p. 204-206. 78 Ibidem, p. 207. 79 James Harper considers a system of traveling stonemasons impractical because of the unpredictability of travel and the length of time needed to build churches (HARPER 1997, p. 140). Also in the older scholarly literature, the idea of traveling artisans or workshops was mentioned but considered impractical, although not on the basis of very convincing arguments (e.g. BETSCH 1977, p. 225; DEICHMANN 1989, p. 273). 80 WARD-PERKINS 1980/1, p. 63; PENSABENE 2001. 81 RUSSELL 2013/2, p. 334. 82 MARANO 2016, p. 118. 83 Yuri Marano sought the origin of the craftsmen who executed opus sectile in the Orthodox Baptistery in Rome. The author sees a remarkable comparison with the Lateran Baptistery in Rome and suggests that in all

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Another way that patterns could spread was by sending one finished sample together with a load of unfinished pieces, perhaps with patterns already sketched out on them. And we must also consider the possibility that the masons, who worked at Ravenna, or possibly only the master masons, had been apprentices in Constantinopolitan or Proconnesian workshops.84

Marmorata

Builders were dependent not only on quarries, but on the system of shipping and unloading in the ports. Imported marble was unloaded in places that could serve as storage yards. There the local (or imported) workshop could process unfinished architectural elements according to the specific requirements of the patron. Convincing arguments for this practice come especially from Rome.85 The prosperous port of Classe had regular connections with other Adriatic ports, other cities in northern Italy, Rome, and Constantinople, and surely had facilities for unloading marble.86 In Ravenna itself, a yard serving the marble trade was probably located north of the city next to the Porta S. Vittore (then known as the Porta Guarcinorum).87 This was adjacent to the river Padenna, so marble pieces, including architectural elements or sarcophagi, could be easily transported upriver from Classe and processed or stored in this place, called Marmorata, and then transported the short distance down the river to their final destination.88 James Harper pointed to a passage from Agnellus’ Liber pontificalis as evidence of such a storage yard in sixth-century Ravenna. The passage also tells us about the shortage of building materials at the time of Bishop Maximianus:

“Some say that on a certain day the bishop (Maximianus) summoned the archiergatus, that is the master of the work, and asked him why he had not finished the building of the said church (S. Stefano). But the archiergaus explained, saying ‘Because you, our lord, had sailed to Constantinopolitan, parts, cement and bricks were missing, nor do we have enough stones to be able to work’. Then, at the order of the bishop, in one night so much building material was brought, and the suppliers prepared plaster and tiles, rocks and bricks, stones and wood, columns and stone slabs, gravel and sand, in one night, as I said, that they were able to finish in only eleven months.”89

From this passage in the Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis, James Harper drew two

likelihood, Roman craftsmen were invited to Ravenna to carry out this special commission. Nonetheless the author does not explain this comparison sufficiently (in the case of Ravenna of the early-twentieth-century copy of the original decoration; MARANO 2012/1, p. 999). For the opus sectile of the Orthodox Baptistery, see NOVARA 2003, pp. 36–46. For the opus sectile in the Lateran Baptistery, see ALFANO 2006. 84 ASGARI 1988; RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 120. 85 See more in RILLIET-MAILLARD 1990, p. 176; FANT 2001. 86 For methods of moving marble see HARPER 1997, p. 140. 87 CIRELLI 2008, p. 229; FANT 2001, p.186. On the name “Marmorata” see MAISCHBERGER 1996. 88 HARPER 1997, p. 134. 89 “Asserunt nonnulli, quod quadam die accersitum archiergatum, id est principem operis, pontifex interrogavit, et cur aedificium predictae ecclesiae non perficeret. At ille notuit dicens, "Eo quod tu, domine noster, navigasses in partibus Constantinopolis, caementum et latercula defecerunt, neque tantos habemus lapides, ut laborare potuissemus". Tunc iussu pontificis nocte una tanta allata sunt omnia paramenta, calces et latercula, petras et bisales, lapides et ligna, columnas et lastas, harenas et sabulos in una nocte, ut dixi, preparaverunt vectores, quanta vix in undecim lunis laborare potuerant “ (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 73. English translation from DELIYANNIS 2003, pp. 188–189).

62 fundamental conclusions: first, it appears that quickness of construction depended, inter alia, on the availability of material. Second, that it was possible, in one night, to gather enough marble to provision the project. According to Harper, Agnellus’ description of capitals decorated with the monogram of Bishop Maximianus proves that they were imported unfinished and completed at the site of Maximianus’ Church of St. Stephen.90 Harper suggests that the stock Agnellus mentioned could have been stored at the place called Marmorata. As further evidence that such a storage yard existed, Harper notes that shipping was for more difficult during the Mare clausum, a long period of bad weather in the Mediterranean lasting from September to May. Only well-stocked storage yards could enable construction work to continue without interruption across the winter.91 Although Harper’s study focuses on construction activity during the sixth century, the extensive construction that took place during the fifth century means that we must assume that such a stock existed then as well. James Harper suggests that an agent from Proconnesus had settled in Ravenna. Ward- Perkins calls such representatives “overseas agents” or “branch workshops”.92 They were charged with regularly communicating with the quarries, counting the required amount of marble, and keeping sufficient material in stock at Marmorata. Standard elements and blocks for floors and wall revetment were likely stored there. If the representative sent a request at the end of maritime season, the quarries had the winter months to fulfill the order. With the arrival of spring and the beginning of the shipping season, the marble was sent to Ravenna and stored, either at the construction site or in the yards at Marmorata.93 Finds from shipwrecks document at least one of the models of distribution proposed above: transport of marble architectural elements in a semi-finished state. Nonetheless, it has been disputed that these were produced as prefabricated, semi-finished products in standardized series, and subsequently exported to warehouses in different Mediterranean cities. Nuşin Asgari, for example, doubts that the quarries carried out serial production. His major (and convincing) argument is that no large series of standardized architectural elements has been found.94 Whether stonemasons at quarries prepared architectural elements only roughly, or carved them into their final form, they needed exact dimensions in either case. Architects had individual preferences, columns had to be of the same size, and capitals and bases had to be combined with columns. This means that all the elements had to conform to a different set of requirements for each building. The idea of manufacturing to assemble stock is therefore difficult to imagine,95 and it would seem stonemasons (or redemptores?) had to be present at whatever work was done at the quarries. They must have overseen specific orders, and had to be familiar with the desires of the architect or his patron. This theory, however,

90 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 72; HARPER 1997, pp. 141–142. 91 HARPER 1997, p. 142. 92 WARD-PERKINS 1980/1, pp. 25, 37. 93 HARPER 1997, p. 146. 94 ASGARI 1992, p. 117. 95 RUSSELL 2013/1, pp. 219, 221–224.

63 does not square with the idea of a storage yard for the city of Ravenna at Marmorata (as proposed by James Harper). But what other purpose could Ravennate Marmorata serve? Let us now return, for a moment, to the practice of re-using marble elements from demolished buildings. The most recent archaeological studies on Rome have revealed that many examples of spolia likely came from imperial stocks, rather than directly from the site of a demolished building.96 Such pieces, during the time between the demolition of the building they came from and their re-use on a new building, must have been stored at a third location, i.e. a place where spolia from various demolished buildings were collected. According to Hugo Brandenburg, this model of distribution would explain why late antique buildings in Rome were often built using spolia from a very wide range of ruined buildings.97 Ben Russell has developed this idea further, and suggests we distinguish between “intentional” and “unintentional” storage yards. The latter were places where architectural elements intended for recycling were collected.98 They could provide marble elements immediately, but it seems they were not intended to contain enough material for entire buildings. For example, several famous archaeological sites, at Portus and on the banks of the Tiber in the Emporium district in Rome, have been called stone yards. But the pieces found there were squared or stepped blocks, not roughed-out architectural elements. Most of these finds are cracked, broken, or otherwise defective, and many of the shafts of columns show signs of attempts of repair.99 This means that these sites held unintentional accumulations of material, so to speak, like the remnants that have been found at quarries, rather than being organized as warehouses.100 Such haphazard collections of material may nonetheless have been useful, e.g. as sources of stone that could be cut to make pavements or wall revetments.101 I would therefore suggest that Marmorata, near Ravenna, was just such a place. Its location, outside the walls, north of the city next to the River Padenna, was a place to which material from demolished buildings (even if we do not know to what extent) could easily be sent. It was also linked, via the Padenna, to Classe, where supplies from the Proconnesian quarries were landed. This arrangement, whether or not consciously set up by the architects of the new sedes imperii, was certainly fortuitous. The same site, located outside the urban center, could also be home to local stonemasons’ workshops. Like glassmakers and potters, these craftsmen worked in the suburbs where they had easier access to supplies and to water, a crucial factor in stonemasonry. The annoying dust and noise they produced were also best kept out of the city center. In Marmorata, workers could recycle spolia according to their patrons’ wishes, as well as completing newly ordered capitals, polishing and grooving columns, or cutting panels for pavements and wall revetments. In some cases, the final sculptural details may have been added here, and the finished items subsequently transported

96 BRANDENBURG 2011, pp. 54–55; cfr. ALTEKAMP 2013, p. 190. 97 Ibidem, p. 60. 98 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 234. 99 FANT 1992. 100 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 237. 101 FANT 2001, p. 177.

64 to the building site. In other cases, stonemasons may have done their final work on pieces already in place in a building. Which method was adopted probably depended on the wishes of a given project’s architects.

Pulvini and the Eastern Aesthetic

With this detailed look at the marble trade, I aimed to show that the relationship between customer and producer could take several different forms. Moreover, complications could arise, and changes to an order could occur at any stage of production. But stone is an unforgiving medium, allowing little experimentation, and however a block of stone may have got from a quarry to its final position at the top of a column, it had been shaped using methods developed over centuries. This seemingly obvious observation is essential to understanding Ravenna’s pulvini. Like other scholars who have considered these pulvini, I think there could be a “connection” with Constantinople [Figs 6, 9].102 But I also think it is necessary to specify what kind of connection, and I will do so by considering whether certain business mechanisms were feasible or common in Late Antiquity. Considering how the marble trade worked (as discussed above), I cannot believe that pulvini were simply “imported” from Constantinople. From a technological as well as aesthetic point of view, the use of pulvini in the newly-built imperial residence must rather be understood within the context of Late Antique craft practice, a system not limited by city walls, and one in which migrant artisans exchanged ideas and techniques across the Mediterranean world. We cannot state with certainty whether the artisans who worked at Ravenna had been trained at Proconnesus, or at imperial workshops in Constantinople, nor whether they arrived in Ravenna to fulfill a specific commission, or accompanied the delivery of stone and finished carving it at Ravenna. Or could the stone have been delivered with patterns already outlined on it, so that local stonemasons could finish the work? This is apparently what happened with some projects at Constantinople.103 But in the end, I think that any attempt to definitively answer these questions misses the point – there were no borders in the world of Late Antique crafts. In the words of Ward-Perkins:

“A great deal of misunderstanding would be avoided if scholars would cease trying to squeeze into a single mould what must often have been a very wide diversity of individual pracitices.”104

For Ravenna’s pulvini, it would appear that the mason’s techniques and style came from Constantinople and that there was a great interest in high-status art from the East, and the material itself may have carried imperial connotation.105 Some of the similarity with carvings at Constantinople could be explained by the fact that far fewer spolia were used there which should not be surprising, since there were not so many older buildings to be plundered.

102 DEICHMANN 1969/1, p. 63; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991, p. 251. 103 HARPER 1997, p. 140. 104 WARD-PERKINS 1980/1, p. 61. 105 HARPER 1997, p. 146.

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Some spolia were, of course, brought to Constantinople from various remote regions,106 but most of the marble elements required at Constantinople in the fourth and fifth centuries had to be produced rather than appropriated. Thus, a sophisticated system of supply and carving arose. Masons started with stone from Proconnesus or other regions, and sculpted it following contemporary fashion. There was no other city where so many new architectural elements had to be made, and therefore, in the fifth century, “contemporary” decorative sculpture was, almost by default, Constantinopolitan. The patrons and architects of buildings elsewhere in the Mediterranean, when they needed stone carved, looked to Constantinople, and not to Rome, where the availability of great stocks of spolia mitigated against the development of a similarly contemporary aesthetic.107 So much for the aesthetic of the pulvini. But why use them at all? Even if it is difficult to determine the proportion of re-used marble elements in Ravenna in studied period, few examples mentioned above document this tradition. When using columns from earlier Roman buildings, pulvini, together with bases for the columns, enabled architects to cope with the disparate size of the possible spoliated columns available to them.108 This practical reason for their use would seem more plausible than any explanation based on aesthetics or ideology if pulvini could be shown to have been used before the time of Galla Placidia, whose “close relationship with Constantinople” has been used to explain them.109 As it turns out, this is very possible: the Basilica Ursiana, Ravenna’s cathedral, was destroyed in 1733, but we know its appearance thanks to drawings by Gian Francesco Buonamici. His drawings show pulvini in the building, but we must be cautious here, since before Buonamici’s time the cathedral had undergone three major renovations, and these pulvini may have been recycled material from other buildings. Neither Eugenio Russo nor Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis excludes the possibility that the pulvini were part of the original building.110 The dating of this building is still uncertain; Agnellus believes that it was built by Bishop Ursus,111 but the dates of his bishopric have not been pinned down, either. The two periods suggested are 370–396 and 405–431.112 If the first date is correct, then the great cathedral stood in Ravenna prior to the arrival of the Emperor, proving that the city had a privileged role in connection with Constantinople as early as the fourth century.113 It would also mean that Ravenna was already home to craftsmen and architects capable of building a church equivalent in size and ground plan to

106 JACOBS 2012, pp. 142-143. 107 WARD-PERKINS 2012, p. 76. 108 DEICHMANN 1956, pp. 41–55; GREENHALGH 2009, p. 18. I thank Klára Benešovská for discussion on the subject. 109 On the period of reign of Valentinian and his mother Galla Placidia see pp. 163–171 of this work. 110 RUSSO 2005, p. 90; DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 85–86. See also SOTIRA 2014, p. 238. 111 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 23. 112 Before 402 e.g. DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 3–4; RUSSO 2005, p. 89; after 402 e.g. ORIOLI 1997; NOVARA 1997, pp. 48–49; DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 86. See also JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 61. 113 RUSSO 2005, p. 91.

66 large Roman basilicas such as St. Paul’s Outside the Walls.114 They all worked in the vivid artistic milieu of Ravenna where they could confront their theoretical and aesthetical experiences with the other crafstmen coming from different building cultures. Whether the cathedral was built before the arrival of the Emperor, or soon after, it shows that we do not necessarily need to associate typically eastern or western structural elements with political events or the ideologies of individual emperors. In my opinion, the tastes of the patrons, their political connections, and the desire to publicly present their political views through architecture can only account for part of a building’s appearance. Another, and equally significant, factor was the way each craft developed. There were practical reasons for innovative elements to be adopted, especially in a multicultural milieu where craftsmen from different regions worked together. The pulvini solved one of the technical problems arising from the use of spolia, while at the same time, giving an eastern appearance to a building.

Sources of Inspiration: Milan, Rome, or Constantinople?

As discussed in detail in the historiographical chapter of this work, the study of Ravenna’s monuments has been dominated by the search for “eastern” or “western” elements ever since the nineteenth century. It is not my aim to take one side or another in this dispute. My aim has been, rather, to show that Ravenna was a cosmopolitan environment. Its geographic position and political importance provided ideal conditions for craftsmen from different cultures to share experiences and building techniques. One much-discussed feature of Ravenna’s architecture is the ground plan of the apses of the city’s churches. These apses are polygonal on the exterior, but semicircular on the interior. This arrangement, which occurs in Ravenna’s Cathedral (the Basilica Ursiana, although in its overall plan that building imitates Roman models)115 and in the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist,116 does not belong to the Western tradition [Figs 10, 11].117 The narthex with attached side chapels, found in Ravenna at the Basilicas of the Holy Cross [Fig. 12]118 and of St. John the Evangelist, was not uncommon in Asia Minor, but is completely unknown in the West except for at Ravenna.119 These spaces are often interpreted as pastophoria, and considered evidence of “eastern influence” on Ravenna’s architecture.120 But Janet Charlotte

114 For the status of Ravenna before 402 see p. 138, n. 9 of this work. 115 The main publications about this building are DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 1–45; NOVARA 1997; RUSSO 2005, p. 90; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 85–88; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 60–65; SOTIRA 2014, p. 238. 116 The main publications about this building are: DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 93–124; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1995/2; ZANGARA 2000; RUSSO 2005, pp.104–114; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 63–70; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 91–101. 117 Ibidem, p. 90. 118 The most recent study is DAVID 2013/3. For the bibliography on the Church of the Holy Cross in CASSANELLI 2013 ibidem. See also JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 102–106. 119 DEICHMANN 1974, p. 102; SMITH 1990, p. 200. 120 SMITH 1990, p. 181, n. 1.

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Smith has analyzed their form and function, and has proved that in Ravenna, these spaces had different functions, and that unlike their supposed models in the East, they never served as places to store and prepare the Eucharist.121 Another typical feature of Ravenna’s fifth-century buildings is the vaulting of apses and domes using tubi fittili [Fig. 13]. This technique was widespread in Roman architecture in Italy, but was completely unknown in Constantinople.122 Deichmann also saw the division of a façade using pilasters and blind arcades (like those of the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia and the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist) as a northern Italian tradition [Figs 14, 15]. The same arrangement was used in Milan at the Basilica of St. John in Conca and and the Basilica Virginum (today’s S. Simpliciano) [Fig. 16].123 Even the brickwork at the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, with bricks laid in regular rows on a thin layer of mortar, is like that on the two Milanese churches. Another visual motif, which may have originated in Milan, in this case at the Basilica Martyrum (Ambrosiana), is the elevation of a triumphal on two columns; this was done in Ravenna at the Basilicas of St. John the Evangelist [Fig. 17] and of the Holy Cross.124 The Basilica of the Holy Cross is the only Ravennate church built using a ground plan in the form of a Latin cross [Fig. 12]. Its layout has been compared with that of the Basilica Apostolorum (Church of St. Nazarius) [Fig. 18] and the Basilica Virginum (today’s S. Simpliciano) in Milan [Fig. 19]. But excavations in the Basilica of the Holy Cross revealed several features which do not seem to have been based on Milanese models: a rectangular bema elevated 0,26 m above the rest of the church, a synthronon in the choir, and a solea along the nave leading to the ambon. All these features point towards Constantinople, and must have reflected local architectural and liturgical needs.125 Another interesting feature of the Basilica of the Holy Cross is the colonnaded portico running along exterior of the north and south sides of the building [Fig. 20]. This feature may be based on similar treatment of the walls at S. Simpliciano in Milan, and was not replicated anywhere else in Ravenna.126 The octagonal ground plan of the Baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti in Milan [Fig. 21], with its alternating semi-circular and rectangular niches, served as a model for the baptistery by the cathedral in Ravenna [Fig. 22].127 All in all, we see that each of Ravenna’s large basilicas – the Basilica Ursiana with its baptistery, the Basilica of the Holy Cross, and the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist – was a new combination of elements drawn from disparate models. Eastern features were

121 According to SMITH 1990, the spaces could be used as libraries, mausoleas, funeral oratories, storage areas, or chapels. 122 Tubi fittili were used in the Basilica Ursiana and its baptistery, the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, the Basilica Apostolorum (today’s Church of Saint Francis) and S. Agata Maggiore. In the sixth century in the archbishop’s chapel, Sant’ Apollinare in Classe, San Severo, the Basilica of Ca'Bianca, and San Vitale (RUSSO 2005, p. 91). More about the development of tubi fittili ibidem, pp. 91–94; DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 18. 123 DEICHMANN 1974, p. 96. 124 NOVARA 2008, p. 110. 125 NOVARA 2001, p. 269; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 70-71; DAVID 2013/2, p. 13. 126 The porches of the Basilica of the Holy Cross were used for funerals starting in the sixth century at the latest, but we do not know if they were originaly built for this purpose. See more in DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 71. 127 For the baptistery in Milan see especially FIENI 1998. For the circulation of architectural models see FILIPOVÁ 2014.

68 incorporated into Western ground plans, and the buildings were executed using masonry techniques typical of Milan.128

Summary

An adaptation of standardized theoretical models to local building traditions inevitably results in architectural varietas, and it normally means that architects and workers from various places will be on the building site at one time. Ravenna’s city planners had to have come from places where their education and experiences could be acquired and employed, i.e. one of the major cities of the Roman Empire. Given that the written sources always mention these men together with the imperial court, their social status must have been high. They traveled to work on various projects and shared their experience wherever their services were desired. Stonemasons and bricklayers could be brought along or hired locally. All these men worked in a city where every building site must have presented similar difficulties at the beginning, but once foundations had been laid, their respective tasks and requirements diverged. While examining individual buildings from the period in question, I have tried to suggest not only where architects and craftsmen could have taken inspiration from, but also the practical reasons for why Ravenna’s buildings look the way they do. I have aimed my attention to one of the most distinct features of Ravennate architecture, the pulvini. By looking at this particular element, we have gained a better idea of how craftsmen, ideas, and techniques circulated in the Late Antique world. At times, craftsmen trained in disparate traditions worked side by side at quarries (at the start of the production process) or in masons’ workshops (at the end of the process), passing techniques and skills back and forth. Through middlemen such as redemptores, workshops could even interact over great distances. If we abandon the strict categorization of architectural elements into “Eastern” or “Western”, and resist the temptation to label every item in Ravennate architecture as either an “import” or a “local product”, we will better understand the cultural and material milieu of the Roman Mediterranean in all its complexity.

128 DEICHMANN 1974, p. 102.

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70

SARCOPHAGI

With the arrival of the Emperor and his court in Ravenna in 402, there was suddenly a need for the luxurious sarcophagi, which served in the prestigious burials of members of the upper class of Roman society,1 as well as of businessmen, officials, artisans, and church officials.2 “For most of these individuals a would have been a massive, once in a lifetime, investment in the monument by which posterit would judge them.”3 The custom of burying the dead in a richly decorated sarcophagus had been deeply rooted in Roman society since the beginning of the second century. The largest number of sarcophagi, of course, comes from Rome, where a large and wealthy senatorial class, educated in a classical culture, supported this tradition. The habit was, however, adopted without hesitation by the Christian community shorty before Constantine began his reign.4 According to Hugo Brandenburg, large and ornate sarcophagi had already become typical for Roman Christians by the end of the fourth century,5 a period, which is considered the Golden Age for Christian sarcophagi.6 After the year 400, however, production of sarcophagi in Rome declined considerably, and in the first third of the fifth century, it seems to have disappeared completely.7 This sudden interruption of the booming production of sarcophagi has been associated with Alaric’s in the year 410 and the subsequent departure of the artists who made them.8 No doubt the event caused a shock to social and governmental structures as well as to the confidence of contemporaries.9 One of the event’s many consequences was that the high senatorial class retired from the public sphere to seek seclusion. The traditional institutions, which had not been able to protect Rome, were no longer trusted by large segments of Roman society.10 However, Hugo Brandenburg notes that Roman Senatorial class remained wealthy after the sack of the city.11 The new ecclesiastical elites were also quite wealthy, and these two groups’ donations to Roman churches prove that they still had huge sums to

1 RILLIET-MAILLARD 1990, p. 181–182; TOYNBEE 1996, p. 270; CARROLL-SPILLECKE 2006, pp. 16, 279. 2 For epigraphic documentation for the period up to the third century see RUSSELL 2013, p. 23; on Rome in the fourth to the sixth century see DRESKEN-WEILAND 2003; DRESKEN-WEILAND 2006; on Constantinople ibidem. 3 RUSSELL 2011, p. 123. 4 BRANDENBURG 2004/1, pp. 7–8. 5 Idem 2002, p. 19. 6 ELSNER 2004. 7 BRANDENBURG 2002, p. 20; BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 7. 8 Idem 2004, p. 15. For discussion on this subject see idibem n. 19. 9 LIPPS / MACHADO / VON RUMMEL 2013 10 BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 15. 11 MATTHEWS 1975, pp. 27ff. 36ff. 357ff; BRANDENBURG 2002, p. 22; BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 15.

71 spend on luxurious projects.12 The profound cultural change implied by the collapse in sarcophagus production must therefore be explained by other factors. These other factors certainly included, first and foremost, a transformation in Christian funeral customs.13 Already in the fourth century, other types of burials – which did not require sarcophagi – were gaining in popularity, especially burials into graves or burial rooms. This was because Christians wanted to be buried near the graves of martyrs in the catacombs or cemeteries, or close to the funeral basilicas above the catacombs where the cult of the was celebrated.14 Throughout the fourth and fifth centuries, this custom of burial ad sanctos challenged the traditional custom of burying the dead in sarcophagi in family .15 The need for representation, and the hope of posthumous salvation for the deceased and his family now manifested itself in a desire to be buried near the martyrs. In this context, the costly sarcophagi lost their meaning. An indicator of these changes is the qualitative and quantitative decline of the last Christian sarcophagi in Rome in the early fifth century. After this time, sarcophagi with figurative reliefs are not found in Rome.16 Elsewhere than in Rome, the use and production of luxuriously decorated sarcophagi continued until the sixth century or later in the cities of southern France,17 as well as in Constantinople18 and Ravenna,19 two places where people – perhaps even more than in Rome itself – consciously maintained traditions associated with the glorious Roman past. Of the approximately 1,200 early Christian sarcophagi from Roman workshops, only about 35 are, scholars believe, from Ravenna.20 They are dated to the fifth and sixth centuries, and only 17 are from the period we are examining.21

12 BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 15; CHRISTIE 2011, pp. 145-147. 13 PERGOLA 1998, p. 98ff. 14 BRANDENBURG 2002, p. 23, n. 23; Idem 2004/1, p. 15. 15 PERGOLA 1998, p. 98ff. 16 BRANDENBURG 2002, pp. 23, 20; Idem 2004/1, p. 7 17 Corpus of sarcophagi from southeastern : COLARDELLE 1983; KOCH 2012/2. 18 KOCH 2000, pp. 419–443; DECKERS 2004. 19 KOCH 2000, pp. 379–398. For problems with urban burial in Ravenna see CIRELLI 2008, pp. 114–129. 20 The works serving as basic and comprehensive starting points for all study of Ravenna’s sarcophagi are: LAWRENCE 1945 [1970]; BOVINI 1968–1969; KOLLWITZ 1979, for Ravenna especially pp. 379–398; DRESKEN-WEILAND 1998, for Ravenna especially pp. 376–409; KOCH 2000, pp. 379– 398 with complete bibliography for Ravenna on p. 379. 21 KOCH 2000, p. 379; Idem 2012/2, p. 122. For the earlier pieces from the second and third centuries, see JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 56–57. For the discussion on the dating of the famous three sarcophagi from the so-called “mausoleum of Galla Placidia”, see JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 115–116. They are mentioned for the first time in a fourteenth-century written source. Their attribution as the place of burial of Galla Placidia, Honorius and Valentinian III or Constantius III follow only the tradition without any evidences but since Honorius, Galla Placidia and Valentinian were all buried in Rome we can reject such a hypothesis. One of the sarcophagi (in the southern arm of the building) dates back to the third or fourth century and was reused in the fifth century or later and on the two other we cannot say more

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What is more, we have no more precise dating for those 17 pieces. No helpful inscriptions have survived on these fifth-century sarcophagi, so we cannot study them within a wider archaeological context. The earliest example of a Christian sarcophagus with an original and reliable attribution is the sarcophagus of the eunuch Seda from 541, a work, which was created by re-using a third-century sarcophagus [Fig. 23], 22 Classification by style is very difficult, so our analysis will necessarily be rather general in nature. We can start by noting that sarcophagi decorated with figures and an architectural framework have traditionally been dated to the first half of the fifth century, and those decorated only with symbolic motifs to the second half of the century.23 They do not represent the deceased; instead, Christian images are used to declare the piety of the deceased. Unlike older Roman sarcophagi, these are anonymous; they leave no place for an epitaph or inscription.24 Furthermore, the Ravenna sarcophagi are conceived as a kind of house or temple for the body, a design completed by the shape of the lid. The predominant type of lid is semi-cylindrical, often but not always decorated with a pattern imitating tiles [Fig. 24].25 Almost all the Ravennate sarcophagi are decorated on all four sides. We do not know much about their original setting, but due to the fact that their surface is often very well preserved, we can guess that may of them were placed inside churches or in such a way that they coud be seen from all sides. This was a common feature in Greece and the East.26 Despite the small sample size (at least compared with Rome), these Ravennate sarcophagi show a wide range of decorations: we can find examples with corner pilasters and columns (the Torre-Nova-Gruppe), with architectural framework (the Säulen- Sarkophage), or with profiled framing (the Truhen-sarcophagi); all are decorated with figural and symbolic motifs.27 Another universal feature is the material of which they are made, Proconnesian marble.28 In older scholarly literature, these Ravennate sarcophagi were considered a strange phenomenon, in a certain sense isolated formally and iconographically from other sarcophagi.29 But if we examine slightly older Roman (Stadtrömische) sarcophagi, we can see that as far as their iconography goes, these Ravennate sarcophagi are rather conventional, and follow the Roman tradition. In Rome in the second half of the fourth century, images like the Parousia of Christ, the apostles Peter and Paul, the

than they come from the fifth or sixth centuries. See also DEICHMANN 1974, p. 86–87; ANGIOLINI MARTINELLI 1996; RIZZARDI 1996/2, p. 135. 22 SCHOOLMANN 2013, p. 64. 23 BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 16; KOCH 2000, pp. 381, 386. 24 SCHOOLMANN 2013, p. 58. 25 LAWRENCE 1945 [1970], p. 1. 26 ELSNER 2011, p. 2. 27 KOCH 2000, p. 380. 28 KOCH 2000, p. 398. 29 E.g. LAWRENCE 1945 [1970], pp. 1-2; FARIOLI 1968, p. 239.

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Apostolic , the traditio legis, and the Acclamation of the apocalyptic cross by the Twelve Apostles dominated the sarcophagus-maker’s art. According to Hugo Brandenburg, this was a clear imprint of monumental art.30 Of them, the traditio legis is the most repeated image of the Ravennate sarcophagi [Figs 25, 26, 27]. Other themes appear mostly on the sides and backs the early Ravennate pieces. Examples of these are drinking does, peacocks, lambs adoring the cross and wreaths with the Alpha and Omega. Scenes like the Adoration of the Magi, the Resurrection of Lazarus, or Daniel in the Lion’s Den are also found, and belong to conventional Roman funerary imagery [Figs 28, 29, 30].31 The only example of exceptional iconography is a fragment of a sarcophagus representing [Fig. 31]. In funerary imagery, this motif has only been found on the sarcophagus, which is now used as the in the Church of S. Celso in Milan [Fig. 32]. As far as the style of these works is concerned, Guntram Koch notes striking differences between Ravennate sarcophagi and Roman sarcophagi, but thinks that the Ravennate pieces show similarities with sarcophagi in Constantinople.32 Both these conclusions must be regarded with caution. We have almost no examples from fifth- century Rome for comparison, almost all of the Roman sarcophagi being older than Ravenna’s. For Constantinople, very few examples are preserved from the fifth century:33 We have several examples of figurative sarcophagi from Constantinople dated to the period between 380 to 450. But this dating – even to such a long period as 70 years – is based on formal criteria alone, a treacherous undertaking when Constantinople is concerned.34 The same difficulties with dates exist with the Ravennate sarcophagi. Even a cursory glance at a few of the Ravennate pieces – the Pignatti Sarcophagus [Fig. 33], the Traditio Legis Sarcophagus [Fig. 34], Isaac’s Sarcophagus [Fig. 35],35 the column Sarcophagus from Church of St. Francis [Fig. 36], and the sarcophagus fragment showing Doubting Tomas [Fig. 31] – shows a wide range of styles.36 It is very difficult to make a comparative study of sarcophagi from Rome, Constantinople, and Ravenna, because the number of surviving pieces and state of their preservation is extremely uneven.37 Nor is it even possible to establish a chronological sequence for the seventeen works from Ravenna.

30 BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 6. 31 LANGE 1996. 32 KOCH 2000, p. 386. 33 BRANDENBURG 1981, p. 120. 34 DECKERS 2004, p. 41. For a list of comparative material for sculpture in Constantinople see KOCH 2000, p. 432–433. 35 More about the re-use of this sarcophagus from the first half of the fifth century for the burial of Isaac in the first half of the seventh century, when a lid was added and perhaps also a monogram with peacocks on the back side, in SHOLMANN 2013, pp. 66–67 with complete bibliography. 36 DEICHMANN 1989, p. 334. 37 DECKERS 2004, p. 35.

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Research on sarcophagi (Sarkophagstudien) has generally been the province of German scholars. This is true for Roman works generally, and for sarcophagi from Ravenna in particular.38 In older scholarly literature, the surviving works are classified and used to form a scheme of historical development. Many of these studies, however, assumed that style always underwent linear development.39 Any attempt at classification based on such a model will, unfortunately, give a distorted result. Working without secure epigraphic evidence, we cannot hope to establish a pattern of development for these sarcophagi. And given the total absence of external evidence and the conventionality of these works’ iconography, we cannot put individual examples into any broader context. The aim of the text that follows, then, is not (and cannot be) to radically revise the conclusions proposed in many studies of Ravennate sarcophagi carried out over the years. Rather, I will try to apply new findings from other disciplines to the traditional questions. If any progress is to be made, it will be in determining where, exactly, they were made. In recent decades, new contributions from history and archaeology have complemented our traditional art-historical approach to works like the Ravennate sarcophagi.40 Art historians have traditionally considered issues of style, chronology,41 and the influence of cities on art in the provinces.42 They have sought prototypes, models, and patterns.43 Archaeologists are more interested in the quantity of production, and have recently turned their attention to the marble trade – its origin, evolution, and organisation. Neither field tends to closely follow developments in the other. Art historians often ignore years of systematic research by archaeologists. In the previous chapter, I mentioned Bryan Ward-Perkins’ conviction that understanding the organization of the marble trade is a prerequisite to any serious art-historical study.44 Archaeologists, on the other hand, sometimes lose sight of what we could call the artistic nature of the work, its aesthetics, and the wishes and tastes of its patron. I am convinced that we can better understand any work of art by examining its material basis, and so I have often stopped, in this thesis, to examine how – exactly – a given work was manufactured, in the true sense of the word – made by the hands of

38 For the most recent re-evaluation, see especially the series of Sarkophag-studien ed. by KOCH 1998; 2002; 2007; for a recent general review of the field see BARATTE 2006. 39 WILPERT 1929/1936; LAWRENCE 1945 [1970]; BOVINI 1954; KOLLWITZ 1956; FRANCOVICH 1958; Idem 1959; BOVINI 1968/1969; DEICHMANN 1969/1, pp. 79–86; Idem 1969/2; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1974; Eadem 1978; KOLLWITZ 1979 (reviewed by BRANDENBURG 1981; ENGEMANN 1982); DEICHMANN 1989, pp. 333–335; DRESKEN- WEILAND 1998, pp. 376–409; KOCH 2000, pp. 379–398. 40 For recent reflection on this topic see the conclusion of the proceedings of the conference by BRANDENBURG 2004/2, p. 221. 41 E.g. BOVINI 1954; KOLLWITZ 1956; FRANCOVICH 1958; Idem 1959; BOVINI 1968/1969; DEICHMANN 1969/1, pp. 79–86; DEICHMANN 1969/2; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1974; Eadem 1978; KOLLWITZ 1979; DEICHMANN 1989, pp. 333–335; BÜHL 1995; DRESKEN-WEILAND 1998, pp. 376-409; KOCH 2000. 42 On this topic see the proceedings of the conference ed. by KOCH 2012/1. 43 BRANDENBURG 2004, p. 18. 44 WARD-PERKINS 1961 [1992], p. 121.

75 the artist. With sarcophagi, this approach will pay even greater dividends, since the final appearance of a sarcophagus is the product of many manual processes, each of which has an economic as well as artistic dimension.

Local Production or Imports from Constantinople?

Where these sarcophagi, preserved at Ravenna, were made is one of the most vexed questions in late antique art history. As noted above, formal analysis can be used only with great reservations, since few sarcophagi were made in Rome after 400. Most scholars believe that the Ravennate pieces (unlike Gallic sarcophagi from the same period45) were not made in continuity with the older Roman tradition, nor in continuity with northern Italian tradition.46 Our problem is made more complicated by the fact that we have only seventeen examples dated to the period in question, and moreover, their styles differ markedly. Several works from Constantinople show formal similarities to our pieces from Ravenna, and serve as evidence for those scholars who believe that the Ravennate sarcophagi were imported from Constantinople.47 Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann presented the most convincing evidence of a connection between Ravenna’s sarcophagi and those of Constantinople in a 1969 article.48 There, Deichmann showed a fragment of a sarcophagus from the depository of the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul [Fig. 37], and pointed out its similarity to the two Säulen-Arkaden-Sarkophage in the Ravennate Church of Saint Francis (called the Sarcophagus of Bishop Liberius and the Bensai-Dal Corno family) [Figs 38, 36]. At that time, the two sarcophagi in the Church of St. Francis were thought to be from the early fifth century, but Gudrun Bühl subsequently demonstrated that the one currently being used as the main altar of the church (the Sarcophagus of Bishop Liberius) is likely a seventeenth-century copy of an antique original.49 In spite of this discovery, Deichmann’s comparison is still relevant. The fragment in the Istanbul Archaeological Museum includes the right half of a shallow niche with a shell-shaped concha, a small part of the next (identical) niche, a twisted column with a Corinthian capital, and a damaged frontal figure sitting on a

45 BRANDENBURG 2004, p. 20. 46 E.g. DEICHMANN 1989, p. 334; KOCH 2000, p. 380; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 2005, p. 364. Cfr. BRANDENBURG 1981, p. 119 who, on the contrary, speaks about Ravenna’s sarcophagi as following the Roman western tradition which was interrupted in Milan in 402 and then picked up again in Ravenna. For the hypothetical Ravennate workshop see also GABELMANN 1973, especially cat. nos 57, 59–62, 65, 68–72, 74–78, 80–82, 86–90, 93, 95, 98, 99. 47 KOCH 2000, p. 437. 48 DEICHMANN 1969/2; FıRATLı 1990, p. 48, n. 84. 49 BÜHL 1995; see also JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 140–141.

76 throne, identified by Deichmann as the Madonna with the child on her lap.50 From her drapery, we recognize only a maforion and the upper hem of her tunic. The two sarcophagi from the Church of St. Francis and the Istanbul fragment share several features: the niches, seashells, twisted columns, and Corinthian capitals are relatively flat; those in Ravenna are slightly richer. The capitals themselves are remarkably similar, and seem to have been made with drills. All three pieces have a small rosette on the abacus. Finally, all three sarcophagi have an identical decoration in the triangular space between their shells, although on the fragment from Istanbul it is quite damaged. Deichmann also compared the softness of the figures’ drapery on Liberius’ sarcophagus with what remains at the neck, shoulder, and chest on the Istanbul fragment.51 Deichmann saw another link with Constantinopolitan production in the examples from the group of the so-called “Eckpilaster-Sarkophage” including famous sarcophagus of the family Pignatti [Fig. 39]. Deichmann’s conclusion was that “Ravenna’s Säulen-Arkaden-Sarkophage come from a school whose works have now been found in Constantinople”.52 Scholars trying to determine whether Ravenna’s sarcophagi are related to Constantinopolitan works have also considered one of Constantinople’s oldest sarcophagi, the so-called Prinzensarkophag in Istanbul’s archaeological museum [Fig. 40].53 The figures of Peter and Paul adoring the cross on this work – carvings of high quality, well preserved – have been compared with early Ravennate sarcophagi, but I do not share this conviction. For the years after 415 we have five more sarcophagi from the Silivri Kapı Mausoleum in Istanbul,54 four of them decorated with limestone figures and one, decorated with symbols and occupying the centre of the mausoleum, made entirely of marble. These works are poorly preserved, and some of the figures are poorly executed. I do not consider these works as relevant to any of the Ravennate sarcophagi [Fig. 41]. Undeniable parallels with the sarcophagi of Ravenna can, however, be found on the Obelisk of Theodosius (390–392), one of the few Constantinopolitan works, which can be dated precisely [Fig. 42].55 The Ravennate work which shows the most striking similarities to the obelisk is the fragment representing Doubting Thomas [Fig. 43].56 The formal execution of the figures, the types of their faces, and the hairstyles are very close. The helmet-shaped hairstyles are essentially identical, as are the distinct brow ridges, broad lips, large heads, and high-set ears. The execution of the

50 DEICHMAN 1969/2, p. 293. 51 DEICHMANN 1969/2, p. 294; FıRATLı 1990, n. 84, p. 48. 52 “Die ravennatischen Säulen-Arkaden-Sarkophage entstammen eine Schule, deren Werke sich jetzt in Konstantinopel nachweisen lassen”. (DEICHMANN 1969/2, pp. 305–306). 53 FıRATLı 1990, n. 81, pp. 46–47. 54 KOCH 2000, p. 419; DECKERS 2004, p. 36. For the function of the mausoleum see FOLETTI 2013. 55 DECKERS 2004, p. 36. For the obelisk of Theodosius see RITZERFELD 2002. 56 PASI 2005, p. 66.

77 richly gathered wet draperies and the attempt to differentiate the faces show that the works emerged from a similar aesthetic environment. I might go so far as to say that one of the adoring Magi on Isaac’s Sarcophagus has the same identifying features as the figures on the Obelisk of Theodosius and the Doubting Thomas fragment [Fig. 44].57 Formal comparison based on works that are so poorly preserved cannot give us all the answers, but these Constantinopolitan works really do offer the closest parallels to what we see in Ravenna. Deichmann’s fragment and the Obelisk of Theodosius are the most convincing models or cognates. Even Johannes Georg Deckers, who claimed that some early figuratively-decorated sarcophagi follow the northern Italian or Adriatic tradition, allowed that others were either imported from Constantinople or at least influenced by Eastern prototypes. Deckers even incorporated Ravennate sarcophagi into his research into Constantinopolitan sculpture of the Theodosian era.58 Koch considered the Ravennate sarcophagi early examples of the lost art of Constantinople.59

Discussion

Despite the inherent limitations of this kind of formal analysis, I share these scholars’ conviction that there is a connection with Constantinople (with Deichmann’s fragment and Obelisk of Theodosius). But what, exactly, is the relationship? Deichmann considered two options in his article: either these sarcophagi were transported to Ravenna already finished, or they were shipped only half-finished and then completed by Constantinopolitan artists working at Ravenna.60 In 1989, Deichmann returned to this issue and wondered about the origin of the artists and workshops active at Constantinople itself. He suggested that they were originally from Ephesus, Pamphylia, and Afrodisias. He concluded, based on the historical situation, that sarcophagi decorated with reliefs were probably not brought by ship from Asia Minor to Ravenna, nor did artisans from Asia Minor work at Ravenna. In the end he could propose nothing more than a “connection” with Constantinople.61 Guntram Koch examines three possible explanations.62 In the first, sarcophagi could have been made from imported marble by local artists in Ravenna, using Constantinopolitan examples as models. Koch immediately rejects this possibility

57 For a similar formal comparison see FARIOLI CAMPANATI 2005, p. 363. 58 DECKERS 2004, pp. 35–36. Unfortunatelly, the author does not sufficiently explain his statement on the continuity of the Adriatic tradition with specific examples. 59 KOCH 2000, p. 386. 60 DEICHMANN 1969/2, p. 306. 61 Idem 1989, p. 333. 62 KOCH 2000, pp. 383–386.

78 because like Johannes Kollwitz,63 he saw no evidence that Christian sarcophagi had been produced in Ravenna before 402. Sarcophagi of high quality, like those in question, could therefore not emerge from a local tradition. In the second possible explanation, sarcophagi were produced in Ravenna by the artists from Constantinople who were trained in the “Constantinopolitan style”. Koch rejects this explanation as well, reasoning that it would have been very impractical to send groups of craftsmen such a long distance. This reasoning is not expanded in any detail. By this process of elimination, Koch arrives at his third and preferred explanation: the sarcophagi were finished at Constantinople, then transported to Ravenna.64 Jutta Dresken-Weiland criticizes Koch for his lack of detailed arguments, and I must agree. Dresken-Weiland believes exactly the opposite – that the sarcophagi were manufactured in Ravenna.65 Hugo Brandenburg considers both Koch’s and Dresken- Weiland’s conclusions erroneous. Although Brandenburg also sees a connection with the East, he can only contemplate a Constantinopolitan origin – i.e. the pieces being made there – for a small fraction of the Ravennate sarcophagi.66 He admits that Ravenna had had no tradition of producing sarcophagi for more than a hundred years before the Imperial court’s relocation in 402, and that the seventeen pieces in question have features that also appeared at Constantinople’s, but he sees the Ravennate sarcophagi as a logical outgrowth of a Western Roman tradition interrupted in Milan but renewed in Ravenna. He does not categorically exclude the possibility that sarcophagi were imported from Constantinople, nor that some could have been completed by migrant craftsmen, and finally concludes – cautiously – that some of the Ravennate sarcophagi are direct imports, and others the product of local tradition.67 Raffaela Farioli Campanati takes a similar position, treating the earliest Ravennate sarcophagi – the Pignatti Family Sarcophagus, the sarcophagus in the Church of St. Francis, and the fragment showing Doubting Thomas – as one group, and hypothesizes that artisans working in Ravenna could have been trained on Proconnesus. This is a suggestion that will be discussed in more detail below.68 The evidence adduced for each of the hypotheses is relatively thin by modern historical standards. In my opinion, the only really convincing evidence for a link with the East is Deichmann’s fragment from Istanbul. This formal analysis leads us to Theodosian Constantinople. Scholars have spoken of “closeness”, “continuity”, “influence”, and “affinity”, but like we have already seen in the chapter on

63 KOCH 2000, p. 394; KOLLWITZ 1979, p. 105. For more on pagan examples see REBECCHI 1978. 64 KOCH 2000, p. 386. The author, on p. 380, notes the sarcophagi could be imported from Constantinople or they could be local imitations manufactured in Ravenna. The author unfortunatelly does not expand the second hypothesis. 65 DRESKEN-WEILAND 2002, p. 41. A reaction on her review in KOCH 2012/1, p. 253, n. 34. 66 BRANDENBURG 2004/1, p. 20. 67 Idem 1981, p. 119. 68 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 2005, pp. 363–365.

79 architecture, these terms have been poorly defined, and as such they tell us little about late antique sarcophagus production. Is it really possible, from a purely practical point of view, that finished sarcophagi were imported from Constantinople, and if so, what evidence do we have for this practice? What is really meant by the term “local production”? If a sarcophagus was created by an eastern artisan working in Ravenna, does that make it a “local product” or an “import”? And what if such a craftsman’s family settled in Ravenna for generations? If a local stonemason manufactured a sarcophagus closely imitating a Constantinopolitan model, is the work no longer a local product? Can we use the terms “local” or “imported” to define a situation where a craftsman worked in Ravenna, but was trained on Proconnesus or at Constantinople? Our only hope of answering these questions is to revisit the archaeological field called “marble studies”69 and these scholars’ finds from late antique quarries and shipwrecks.70 By incorporating archeological findings into the art historical discussion, we may be able to define the “connection” between Ravenna’s sarcophagi and the eastern Mediterranean precisely enough to accept or reject the various hypotheses outlined above. Marble may be difficult to shape, expensive, and difficult to transport, but it has one redeeming quality – its durability. In the words of Ben Russell “it is no surprise, therefore, that the Roman obsession with personal immortality acquired its physical form in stone”.71 The processing of marble requires, at every stage, a highly qualified workforce. The mere quarrying and basic shaping of a block destined to become an average-sized sarcophagus to a skilled mason and two assistants about a month of work at the quarry.72 Up to one year more was needed for by five masons, working together, to complete the richly decorated sarcophagus.73 Still more labor was needed in the quarries and at the final destination to load and unload the stone.74 The production of sarcophagi, like the architectural elements discussed above, was governed by the relationship between customer, stonemason’s workshop and quarry. But the debate on how these people interacted in Late Antiquity is much more vivid where sarcophagi are concerned. Given the huge investment that a sarcophagus implied, even for members of the highest class of Roman society, and the

69 WARD-PERKINS / DODGE 1992. 70 For shipwrecks see, most recently, RUSSELL 2013/2. For archeometric analysis see especially ATTANASIO/BRILLI/OGLE 2006. Many of the most recent examinations come from the activity of the Association for the Study of Marble and Other Stones used in Antiquity (ASMOSIA). For the volumes published by ASMOSIA up to 2013, see RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 2, n. 6; for the most recent volume see PENSABENE/GASPARINI 2015; CASTAGNINO BERLINGHIERI / PARIBENI 2015. 71 RUSSELL 2011, p. 119. 72 RUSSELL 2011, p. 122, (in n. 19, on p. 122, Russell explains his calculation). 73 Ibidem, p.130. 74 HARPER 1997, p. 140.

80 importance of the images, which decorated it (and which had to mean something to the bereaved), we will first ponder how the customer and the manufacturer interacted.

The Ward-Perkins Model

Bryan Ward-Perkins created a basic interpretive framework for this interaction, based on the idea that production was centralized in quarries, where individual sarcophagi were carved out in standardized forms and sizes, then distributed in semi-finished form to be held in stock at the final destination, awaiting completion.75 One of the fundamental characteristics of the Ward-Perkins’ model is its emphasis on what he calls “overseas agencies” or “branch workshops”. These individuals or administrative units, for Ward-Perkins, were charged by the quarries with facilitating and organizing orders, and with distributing the sarcophagi themselves.76 These mediators and their systematic trading activity, says Ward- Perkins, largely shaped the marble market, and they are the reason why certain types of sarcophagi were preferred in certain places, and evidence that the quarries played an initiating role in the whole process. Although Ward-Perkins admits that quarries and quarry workshops were prepared to meet the local requirements of individual customers, he regards quarries as the main initiators of the entire manufacturing process.77 As far as the customer goes, he says: “An individual who wished to shop outside the framework of these monopolies was at perfect liberty to do so – if he could establish contact with other sources and could pay the price. But in the event the ordinary client accepted the market situation”.78

The Russell’s Model

Ben Russell holds a different view. He believes that “the ordinary client” did not simply accept the market situation, but shaped it.79 Russell finds Ward-Perkins’ views on standardization and prefabrication problematic, and questions the idea that sarcophagi were produced to stock. Russell is right in thinking that these terms lead to believe that sarcophagi were manufactured before they had a buyer.80 Nor, according to Russell, is there any evidence for the existence of “overseas agencies” for quarries. There are epigraphs mentioning marmorarii, redemptores marmorarii or negotiator marmorarius, but Russell believes that these men employed others – masons for carving

75 WARD-PERKINS 1980/1, p. 25; Idem 1980/2, p. 327. 76 Idem 1963. 77 WARD-PERKINS 1969, pp. 134–136. 78 WARD-PERKINS 1980/1, pp. 45–48. 79 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 183. 80 RUSSELL 2011, p. 135.

81 stone and teamsters for transporting it. Customers probably addressed themselves to these men, since they provided a connection between customer and producer.81 Russell’s approach is certainly more sensitive than Ward-Perkins’ to the role of the customer in the process. I think that this debate is a useful one, because its outcome will tell us, essentially, who decided what a sarcophagus would look like. Was it the customer who decided, or did the customer have to adapt him- or herself to what the manufacturer had already decided? In order to answer this question, let us delve into the details of how the production of sarcophagi was organized.

The Production of Sarcophagi

Before it left the quarry, each sarcophagus – which started as a solid rectangular block of marble – was hollowed out in order to reduce its weight by up to half – a difference of up to 2500 kg for a chest of average size, approximately 2x1x1 meters. This basic shaping of the object before export minimized the chances that a block of stone with a defect hidden within would be passed to the client.82 Most of our evidence for this practice comes from the island of Proconnesus. In local quarries and the adjacent necropolis, archaeologists have identified at least 112 sarcophagi or large fragments thereof, most of which were simply hollowed out and very roughly carved on their outer surface. In some cases, the final decor was roughed in on the exteriors, but the details were not finished, presumably because they would have been susceptible to breakage during transport. Sometimes only an architectural structure was indicated.83 Chests and lids have also been found on the island. These are not of a type specific to Proconnesus; similar chests at this stage of production have been found in other locations where stone was quarried, such as Dokimeion, Sagalassos, and Dalmatia. This, then, was simply the first phase of the manufacturing process, the aim of which was to facilitate transport.84 Other archaeological finds show that in some cases, the quarries continued to work on the sarcophagi. Some left the quarry completely finished.85 For example, research on the famous Asiatic garland sarcophagi shows that their final form was quite precisely defined at the quarry. Garland sarcophagi found at Tyre are examples of this. Their rough decorative scheme (which may not have been intended as the final one) became so popular that sarcophagi were soon intentionally left in this state,

81 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 184. 82 Idem 2013/1, p. 184. 83 WARD-PERKINS 1969 [1992]. 84 THROCKMORTON / WARD-PERKINS 1965; HARPER 1997, p. 139; RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 261. 85 RUSSELL 2011, p. 134.

82 and their schematic décor was even imitated in other local materials.86 In addition to this specific type of sarcophagi, there are other examples that clearly document that the quarries employed craftsmen capable of carving a sarcophagus into its finished form. Three famous examples from the island of Proconnesus attest this practice. The first is an almost finished child’s sarcophagus (the so-called lenos sarcophagus, now in the open-air museum at Saraylar). It is decorated with a pattern popular in Rome but unknown in the Greek-speaking East. It may have been a special order for Rome, possibly made by an migrant Roman carver, but it also could have been made for someone on the island. The second example is a firm evidence that Roman stonemasons worked in the quarries on Proconnesus. Two completely finished lids, found in fragments, also indicate the presence of Roman stonemasons on the island. Both are in the shape of a roof with corner akroteria. The first has a smooth surface, sculpted profiling, a triangular gable, and the head of Gorgona. The second features a female portrait-bust at the peak of its gable.87 The face of the bust is now damaged, and it is not possible to state with certainty whether it was completed, but the modelling of the curved surface behind the bust is like the modelling on lids found in northern Italy.88 According to Ben Russell, these last examples indicate the presence of northern Italian stonemasons in the quarries on Proconnesus (although these and the finished sarcophagi could, conceivably, have been samples, possibly even brought from Italy to Proconnesus, for imitation by local carvers89). The presence of garland sarcophagi, made from Proconnesian marble and completed on all four sides, in the Şile shipwreck shows that sarcophagi could also be transported in a completed state.90

Production “to Stock”

The above-mentioned finds, in quarries, of sarcophagi at various stages of the production process show that production was organized to meet the requirements of individual local workshops. This casts serious doubt on Ward-Perkins’ assertion that sarcophagi were produced to stock. More than anything else, it is finds from shipwrecks which indicate that sarcophagi were produced to specific orders from customers, or from local workshops that were in close contact with customers; there was apparently no large-scale production of standardized or prefabricated semi- finished sarcophagi. The cargo of the ship Torre Sgarrata, which sank near Apulia in the late second or early third century, consisted of eighteen rectangular chests ranging

86 WARD-PERKINS 1969 [1992]. 87 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 269, fig. 7.9. 88 GABELMANN 1973, nos 61, 55, 68, 71, 63; RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 363. 89 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 265. 90 BEYKAN 1988.

83 from 1.93 to 2.45 m in length, and their types and details show that they were not simply stock pieces.91 Likewise, the ship San Pietro in Bevagna, which sank off the coast of Apulia in the early third century, was transporting three types of sarcophagi carved from Thasian dolomitic marble, and it appears that they made up one large order from one or more local producers.92 According to Ben Russell, this variety in the sarcophagi being transported is evidence that there were numerous workshops in quarries, or at least in close proximity to quarries, working independently of each other to meet the specific requirements of different clients.93 Ben Russell does not categorically reject Ward-Perkin’s idea that sarcophagi were made to stock, but he thinks that it only would have made sense in certain situations. To stockpile items such as sarcophagi would have required significant capital; without such capital, producers were dependent on actual orders. The smaller the workshop was, the less capital it had available, so for smaller operations production to stock did not make sense. Production to stock may have been more feasible if a workshop was very active.94 For example, a large workshop in Rome, if it had the necessary capital, would risk little by importing a cargo of blank chests like those found in the San Pietro wreck.95 For Ravenna, however, we cannot assume such extensive production, so it is unlikely that a workshop in Ravenna would have stockpiled sarcophagi.96 One of the arguments in favor of the assertion that workshops needed a stock of sarcophagi is that death comes suddenly, and does not pause to allow a sarcophagus to be ordered from across the sea. Sarcophagi would thus have been readied quickly, leaving little opportunity for personalization with inscriptions or portraits.97 But extensive epigraphic records, especially from the Greek East, make it clear that most sarcophagi were ordered long before death. “The point here is that a considerable amount of planning went into the purchase of a sarcophagus: like buying a plot of land, building a , or making a will, purchasing a sarcophagus was part of the process of planning for death.”98 The decisions to buy a sarcophagus, where to get it, and how to have it decorated were very individual choices, long-planned and thought-

91 GABELLONE/GIANNOTTA 2009. 92 THROCKMORTON / WARD-PERKINS 1965; ALESIO/ZACCARIA 1997. 93 RUSSELL 2011, p. 135; for further arguments see p. 271. JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 56 supposes a similar variety of the state of the transported sarcophagi. The two interesting pieces of evidence of unfinished sarcophagi from Ravenna are the one from the garden of San Vitale from the second or the third century (ibidem, fig. 22, p. 56) and from the western arm of the so-called “Mausoleum” of Galla Placidia, probably from the fifth or from the beginning of the sixth century (ibidem, Fig. 65, p. 114). 94 RUSSELL 2011, p. 127. 95 Ibidem, p. 138. 96 KOCH 2012/1, p. 253 points out that we have only seventeen examples from fifth-century Ravenna, which would mean that one sarcophagi was produced every three years. For the later period, from 450 to 540, only ten examples exist, i.e. a production of one sarcophagi every nine years. 97 STEWART 2008, p. 37. 98 RUSSELL 2013/1, p. 260.

84 out. This aspect of Roman culture is rarely discussed in the scholarly literature.99 The sarcophagi of children were, of course, an exception; in this case production to stock was necessary and understandable. But even when death was sudden, the sarcophagus did not necessarily have to be hastily purchased – already completed – by the bereaved. Ben Russell notes that in the case of Catervius, whose late-fourth-century sarcophagus is now in the cathedral in Tolentino, reliable sources report that forty days passed between his death and his burial in the sarcophagus. Where the corpse was kept in the meantime is not clear, but perhaps it had been temporarily buried in a wooden coffin until his sarcophagus could be completed. A sarcophagus could be personalized by a team of stonemasons relatively quickly.100 In the light of this discussion, I think that workers from various places in the Empire probably worked together in the largest quarries, such as those on the island of Proconnesus. The quarries seem to have had various owners, and offered a wide range of services to meet the requirements of their customers. Proconnesian marble was by both workshops permanently located on the island and by stonemasons from the Levant, Egypt, Italy, and the Balkan. We cannot say whether overseas workshops actually sent their employees to these quarries to work on specific orders (this would explain, at least in part, the multi-cultural milieu on Proconnesus), or if they sent orders to workshops established in the quarries. In any case, it is clear that local workshops around the Empire decided on the size and form of the sarcophagi. They did not have to choose from a limited range of products offered by the quarries, but rather had quarries carve out blocks of marble to fill their specific orders. Formal and iconographic similarities between the sarcophagi which survive in one city, such as Ravenna, can best be explained by the way stone-carvers worked. They shared models, techniques, and inspiration, but above all, their work was shaped by their customers’ requirements, and customers wanted monuments that conformed to those that their ancestors had been buried in. Sarcophagi were intended to be “read” by those left behind in this world, and they could only be read if their form and iconography followed the conventions that had developed over time. The wide range in the types and sizes of sarcophagi that have been found in quarries and shipwrecks, and the fact that buying a luxury sarcophagus made of Proconnesian marble implied an enormous financial investment, indicate that wealthy individuals and the independent stonemasons and merchants who provided their sarcophagi were the driving force in the sarcophagus trade.

99 RUSSELL 2013/1, pp. 258–260. 100 RUSSELL 2011, p. 140.

85

Summary

I share the view, held by many scholars, that the Ravennate sarcophagi show a connection with Constantinople, and I have attempted to define this connection more precisely. The question of whether Ravenna’s sarcophagi were imported or produced locally must be answered using what we know about the Late Antique marble trade. Based on the above outline of how the sarcophagi trade was organized, I would reject the suggestion that finished sarcophagi were brought to Ravenna from Constantinople. Individual similarities with Constantinopolitan items cannot be explained by inventing entities for which no evidence has come down to us, e.g. the imperial “marble yards” near Constantinople, to which blocks of Proconnesian marble were supposedly taken for processing before being re-exported to Ravenna. As was the case with architectural components, there is simply no evidence for the existence of such an intermediate phase in the production of sarcophagi. A marble sarcophagus of average size weighed approximately two tons; loading, shipping, and unloading such an item was, to say the least, a financial and logistical challenge. It is therefore not surprising that we have no evidence that these items were shipped from Proconnesus to be offloaded near Constantinople, processed, then re-loaded onto ships for transport to the western Mediterranean. In my view, it is more useful to consider how stonemasons moved about the Empire, taking their skills and forms with them, rather than to hypothesize that workshops near Constantinople supplied the northern Adriatic with sarcophagi. As for the possibility of “local production”, we must consider the arguments of Kollwitz, Brandenburg, and Koch, all of whom point out that sarcophagi had not been produced in Ravenna for a century before Honorius moved the Imperial court there in the year 402; the city therefore lacked the local craft traditions necessary for processing manufacture.101 But, no ivory, jewellery, or mosaics were made in Ravenna in the fourth century, either. Men practicing those crafts always gathered near the Emperor, and when Honorius moved from Milan to Ravenna, artisans followed, in many cases bringing traditional Roman and Italian techniques and forms with them. There is, for example, an unusual image of Doubting Thomas that appears only on the eponymous sarcophagus fragment in Ravenna, and on the sarcophagus of St. Celsus in Milan. The stonemasons working in the new sedes imperii were not isolated from the rest of the Empire. Like the city’s other craftsmen, they became part of a pulsating environment, which exposed them to new ideas from the East, including Constantinople. If the final appearance of a sarcophagi depended on the specific wishes of the

101 KOLLWITZ 1979, p. 105; BRANDENBURG 1981, p. 119; KOCH 2000, p. 394. Cf. JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 56–57. The author suggests the local tradition of production of sarcophagi already in the second and third centuries.

86 customer (rather than the customer having to choose from a limited number of standard models), then the formal and iconographic similarities of the Ravennate sarcophagi with Constantinopolitan items can be explained without asserting that sarcophagi were imported directly from Byzantium. Customers at Ravenna evidently wanted sarcophagi in a Constantinopolitan style, and artists – working locally or at the quarries – were ready and willing to fulfil those desires.102

102 See more on pp. 163–171.

87

88

GLASS TESSERAE

The archaeological discovery of a glass furnace at Classe in the seventies of the twentieth century [Fig. 5],1 considered in the context of general practice as described above, allows us to hypothesise that Classe produced glass for Ravenna and for export. Based on our current knowledge of workshop practice in Late Antiquity, it is very likely that glass production in Classe included several different branches of the industry.2 The present text focuses on the possibility that glass tesserae were produced locally for decorating the buildings constructed in the new sedes imperii. This hypothesis was introduced in connection with interdisciplinary research into the Orthodox Baptistery (2004–2007)3 and with archaeometrical research into tesserae from the Basilica San Severo (sixth century).4 The original (i.e. never restored) parts of the mosaic decoration in the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia and the Orthodox Baptistery, the only two completely preserved buildings from our period, are made exclusively of glass tesserae. This is not the case in buildings from the sixth century, where stone tesserae are present. It has not yet been conclusively determined whether this change was associated with a change of taste, a change of workshops, or with the economic situation (because stone tesserae were a cheaper and easier-to-produce alternative to glass tesserae). The exclusive use of glass in these monuments, however, clearly demonstrates a very sophisticated and well-organized structure of production, as well as substantial economic resources spent on ensuring supplies of materials for the glass workshops that produced tesserae.5 I will not focus on glass objects intended for everyday use, such as glasses, , bowls and lamps, the production of which had increased considerably around the middle of the first century BC with the invention of glass blowing.6 But research in this area has made considerable progress in recent years, and if we consider some of this research, we can gain a better understanding of the production of glass mosaic tesserae, for which direct evidence is scarcer. For a complex understanding of the local production of glass in Ravenna in the period studied, it will therefore be necessary to work with the results of major archaeological discoveries and archaeometrical analyses not only from the field of mosaic production, but also from the field of glass as an applied art.7 It is precisely archaeometric research into late antique glass that has recently provided us with new insight into the origin and organization of glassmaking; no other field of the humanities can offer us this type of information. These findings from archaeometry have, in

1 MAIOLI 1980. 2 On particular kinds of glass finds, more in CIRELLI/TONTINI 2010. 3 MUSCOLINO/RANALDI/TEDESCHI 2011; VERITÀ 2011. 4 FIORI 2013. 5 TEDESCHI 2013, p. 61–63. 6 Find of glass workshop in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City of constitutes the earliest evidence for glass blowing activities ever found (middle of the first century BCE), more in GORIN-ROSEN 2000, p. 56. 7 See for example DEGRYSE/SCOTT/BREMS 2014; MALTONI 2015.

89 many cases, been published in cooperation with archaeologists, historians and art historians. Such an interdisciplinary approach supports art historical research with exact results from the laboratory, challenging art-history to go beyond its field and to grapple anew with a specific problem; for scientists this means that their analysis will be given a broader historical and social context. As I will describe below, interdisciplinary findings suggest the existence of glass workshops in Classe, which could have produced glass tesserae for the decoration of churches in Ravenna in the fifth century. We will try to answer some still-unanswered questions about late antique mosaic manufacturing in general: How was glass transported to the workshops, and at what stage of production? How were production and distribution organized? Were the tesserae cut where they were about to be applied, or was the quantity needed calculated first, and then the cut tesserae subsequently delivered to the site of the mosaic? Such an interdisciplinary approach will also need to include heuristic and philological research, applying information about the development of glass technology, about the activities of individual glassmakers and their perception in society, and about the impact of their activities on trade and the economy in Late Antiquity. Once we have this wider picture, we will move to the next stage of the research and examine the legacy and practice of “Ravennate” glassmakers within the context of craft production in other major northern Italian cities as well as Rome and Constantinople.

Glass Production in Late Antiquity

Up to the Middle Ages, glass was obtained by melting together a siliceous constituent (sand), a fluxing agent (natural soda or sodium-rich plant ashes), and lime, together with colorants, decolorants, or an opacifying substance. vessels from the period between the first to the sixth centuries are similar in their basic composition, apparently regardless of the geographical location of the workshop or the exact moment of their production.8 This fact can be explained by how late antique glassmaking was organised. The production of glass in Late Antiquity was divided into two separate phases. The primary phase was the production of raw glass; the secondary was the production of the objects themselves, i.e. vessels, cakes for tesserae, or jewellery. The production of raw glass took place place only in a few areas that were close to the sources of suitable raw materials. Large slabs of glass in natural shades from green and yellow to pale were produced there. Subsequently, the slabs were broken into small pieces. In this form, raw glass was shipped to various locations across the whole Roman Empire. There it would be crushed again, melted, dyed and transformed by blowing or casting into final objects in secondary workshops.9 This model has recently come to be preferred by a majority of scholars because it is supported by archaeological and laboratory research. This hypothesis suggests that each primary workshop

8 AERTS 2000, p. 117. 9 STERN 1999, pp. 454–478.

90 could supply a large number of secondary workshops. These workshops, although geographically distant from one another, would thus create glass of identical composition. A secondary workshop could, of course, import raw glass from more than one primary workshop. Precise identification of primary workshops is further complicated in those cases where recycled material was used – a very common practice in Late Antiquity.10 describes the discovery of glass in his Historia naturalis (first century AD):

“A shop belonging to traders in soda once called here, so the story goes, and they spread out along the shore to make a meal. There were no stones to support their cooking-pots, so they placed lumps of soda from their shop under them. When these became hot and fused with the sand on the beach, streams of an unknown translucent liquid flowed, and this was the origin of glass”.11

Although Pliny’s testimony is of legendary character, it is important for several reasons, not the least of which is that it describes the Roman “natron” glass. This glass held a privileged position in Roman glass production from the first millennium BC to the eighth century AD.12 This type of glass was obtained from siliceous sands containing calcareous fragments, with natron as the source of flux.13 Chemical analysis of archaeological finds from places in northern Italy where glass was likely produced, all of which are dated from the fourth to the seventh centuries, confirms that all glass objects from the area were made entirely of natron glass.14 Pliny, again, describes the few places from which the suitable raw materials could be obtained:

“In Syria there is a region known as Phoenice adjoining to Judaea, and enclosing, between the lower ridgea of Mount Carmelus, a marshy district known by the name of Cendebia. In this district, it is supposed, rises the river Belus, which, after a course of five miles, empties itself into the sea near the colony of Ptolemais (…). The shore upon which this sand is gathered is not more than half a mile in extent; and yet, for many ages, this was the only spot that afforded the material for making glass. (…) but, at the present day, there is found a very white sand for the purpose, at the mouth of the river Volturnus, in Italy. I spreads over an extent of six miles, upon the sea-shore that lies between Cumae and Liternum, (…). Indeed, at the present day, throughout the Gallic and Spanish provinces even, we find sand subjected to a similar process”.15

In addition to Pliny, (writing in the first century AD) mentions the availability of sand suitable for glass production by the mouth of the river Belus.16 mentions three areas of glass production: the Syro-Palestinian coast (the area around Ptolemais and around the river Belus), Egypt (the area around Alexandria), and Italy.17 From these few written sources, we can conclude that raw glass could be produced on the Syro-Palestinian coast, in

10 PRICE 2005, p. 169; SILVESTRI 2008; BASS 2009. 11 Pliny, Hist. Nat., Book XXXVI, ch. 65, pp. 379–381. 12 DEGRYSE/SCOTT/BREMS 2014, p. 224. 13 FIORI/VANDINI 2004, p. 156. 14 UBOLDI/VERITÀ 2003, p. 136. 15 Pliny, Hist. Nat., Book XXXVI, ch. 65, pp. 379–381. 16 Josephus, De bello Judaico, Book V (History of the Jews), ch. VII, p. 52–53. 17 Strabo, Geographica, XVI 2, 25, p. 273.

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Egypt, Italy, Gaul or .18 Archaeological finds of huge tank furnaces, as well as glass in shipwrecks, have already confirmed the first two locations.19 In Israel, the primary workshops were in Bet Eli'ezer (eighth cenutry),20 in Apollonia (sixth–seventh centuries)21 and in Beth She'arim (sixth-seventh century).22 Primary glass production in Egypt is hypothesised for the shores of Lake Maryut near Alexandria (eighth century?) and in Wadi Natrun (first–second centuries).23 Given the focus of this study on the production of glass tesserae, it will now be useful to offer some calculations at least a rough idea of how much of raw glass was necessary for some of the surviving large-scale decorative programs in Christian churches. Cyril Mango estimates that the mosaic decoration of (, twelfth century) required at least a million tesserae.24 Based on this estimate, Véronique François and Jean-Michel Spieser have calculated that such a quantity of tesserae, at an average weight of five grams per , comes out to about five tons of raw glass. According to the same authors, over 400 tons of raw glass were therefore necessary for the decoration of Justinian’s Hagia Sophia (sixth century).25 Anastasios Antōnaras made more detailed measurements for Hagios Georgios (fourth century) in Thessaloniki. Unlike François and Spieser, this author calculates the average weight of one tessera at between 1 and 1.5 grams. One tessera covers a surface of 0.7 to 0.9 cm². Adding in the joints between them, each tessera covers 1 cm² with a weight of about 1.2 g of glass. For each square meter of mosaic, about twelve kg of glass would thus be required. The mosaics in Hagios Georgios originally covered an area of about 1,414 m², so about seventeen tons of glass tesserae were therefore needed, of which raw glass accounted for approximately thirteen tons.26 The extensive glass mosaic decoration in the Thessaloniki Rotunda would therefore imply the firing of one or two furnaces like those found in Israel. 27 Even though most of the furnaces discovered so far date to the sixth century or later, and it is still not possible to definitively connect surviving mosaics in the West with the above- mentioned production sites for raw glass, scholars suppose that the same division of glass production between primary and secondary workshops also prevailed in earlier periods. In support of this hypothesis is not only the presumption that glass production followed a continuous and more or less uninterrupted tradition, and the fact that this way of organising

18 DEGRYSE/SCOTT/BREMS 2014, pp. 224–225. 19 GORIN-ROSEN 1995; Idem 2000; NENNA/PICON/VICHY 2000; PICON/VICHY 2003. 20 GORIN-ROSEN 1995; Idem 2000, pp. 49–63, SCOTT/DEGRYSE 2014, p. 17; the most recently in Horbat Biz'a, around 7 km east of Bet Eli'ezer, in GORIN-ROSEN 2012, SCOTT/DEGRYSE 2014, p. 18. 21 TAL/JACKSON-TAL/FREESTONE 2004; FREESTONE 2008; SCOTT/DEGRYSE 2014, p. 18. 22 GORIN-ROSEN 1995; NENNA/PICON/VICHY 2000, p. 97; In Bet She'arim was found a huge glass slab, proportions: 3,80 m x 1,95 m x 0, 45 m, weight 8,9 tones, more in GORIN-ROSEN 2000, p. 54, FREESTONE/GORIN-ROSEN/HUGHES 2000, p. 74 date the glass slab itself to the ninth century. 23 NENNA/PICON/VICHY 2000; SCOTT/DEGRYSE 2014, p. 18. 24 Cit. in MANGO/HENDERSON 1995, p. 339, n. 24. 25 FRANÇOIS/SPIESER 2002, p. 595; also cit. in JAMES 2006, p. 44 (the author notes that it is not clear how the authors deduce 5 g for one tesserae). 26 ANTONARAS 2013, pp. 191 and 197, n. 15 (It is not clear from the text what happened to cause the 4 tons of difference between the tesserae and the raw glass). 27 GORIN-ROSEN 2000, p. 52–54; FREESTONE/GORIN-ROSEN/HUGHES 2000, p. 74.

92 glass production would have been economically and logistically logical in the earlier period as well. The archaeological evidence, namely chunks of raw glass found in shipwrecks, is evidence of this praxis as well, since the ships in question were headed for markets in the western Mediterranean.28

Secondary Production

In Late Antiquity, raw glass was carried from primary workshops exclusively by ship, a much more economical means of transport than the road system.29 According to what Roman shipwrecks tell us, glass never formed a ship’s main cargo. Raw glass was intended for a select number of clients who specialized in the production of luxury or utility glass, and merchants like the owners of the ships often dealt in various commodities. The only exception found so far is the cargo of the Embiez ship (late second or beginning of the third century), which was made up of raw glass (15–18 tons), about 1,800 glass vessels, and two types of window glass.30 It is not entirely clear how the transport of raw glass was organized, nor how the subsequent sale was conducted. It is possible that the ship-owner or merchant sold the glass, after his arrival at port, to an intermediary, or perhaps directly to the representatives of a specific workshop. A small quantity of raw glass of special characteristics that a glassmaker was unable, for whatever reason, to produce himself, could be ordered directly from the merchant and transported as a commercial consignment.31 The above-mentioned cargoes of sunken ships testify not only to a developed trade in raw glass, but also the tradition of recycling glass. Shards of broken vessels and windows were collected, crushed and melted again in the same way as the chunks of raw glass. Shipping of broken colored vessels, intended for recycling in large quantities, is documented by the cargo of the ship Iulia Felix, which sank near Grado in the first half of the third century.32 The majority of broken glass for recycling, however, was probably collected directly from inhabitants living near the glass workshop.33 The cargo of the eleventh-century ship Serçe Limanı, consisting of 3000 kg of raw glass in chunks, as well as broken glass vessels, documents the fact that this praxis lasted for centuries.34 The archaeological discovery of furnaces – thought to be for secondary production – inform us about workshop practice itself in both parts of the Empire. We know what these furnaces looked like not only from archaeologists, but also from contemporary illustrations.

28 PARKER 1992; PRICE 2005, p. 168. 29 STERN 1999, p. 472. 30 FONTAINE/FOY 2007. 31 STERN 1999, p. 475–476. 32 SILVESTRI 2008. 33 PRICE 2005, p. 169 cites two first-century Roman authors, and , who mention the collection of broken glass and its exchange for sulpfur (Martial, Epigrams 1.41.1–5; Statius, Silvae 1.6.70–74). More about literary evidence of Roman glass production ibidem). 34 BASS 2009.

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Three first-century ceramic lamps (from Asseria in , Voghenza presso , and Školarice-Križišče in [Fig. 45]) and a first- or second-century group of unknown provenance (now in the ) represent glassmakers at their furnaces [Fig. 46].35 By analysing the fragments found around the remains of these furnaces, we can know which kind of glass production was carried out at each one. The fragments include crucibles containing chunks of glass, glass fragments formed as the waste products of glassblowing, moiles, twisted rods, drips, trails, lumps of furnace waste, and the tools used for production.

The furnace in Classe

In the seventies of the twentieth century,36 and again in the year 2001,37 archaeologists were able to examine the remains of a glass furnace in the southeast sector of the port of Classe. It is a small circular structure, situated in the corner of a trapezoid-shaped chamber. The chamber was divided into several other rooms intended for the storage of foodstuffs. This complex was built on the foundations of a former suburban villa [Fig. 5].38 During excavations in 2001, over 50,000 ceramic fragments and 1,512 glass artefacts were uncovered here. The origin of 188 of them has been traced, and the results have helped to date the furnace to the period between the mid-fifth and the seventh centuries. Between these extremes, however, 95% of the fragments are from the period between the end of the fifth century and the mid- sixth century.39 The ground plan of the furnace in Classe does not give away the furnace’s function, and the poor condition of the remains, and vestiges of other crafts being practiced in the same chamber, make it difficult for archaeologists to help us with this. In the vicinity of the furnace, however, large quantities of cullet were found, giving evidence of all stages of glass production from the melting of raw glass to blowing. The evidence also shows well-structured and organized artistic activity. The glass found had mostly been reused, mixed in a layer with ceramic shards, broken rocks, and gravel in order to raise the floor level in the mid-sixth century.40 The fact that the floor was raised in this strange way, using large amounts of glass, indicates that this was the location of a workshop specialized in glass production, and provides us with a terminus post quem for this activity. According to archaeologists, the site is comparable in importance with other finds of glass such as at the Crypta Balbi in Rome41 or the Piazza della in Florence.42

35 PRICE 2005, p. 170. 36 MAIOLI 1980; Eadem 1991. 37 AUGENTI 2007. 38 MAIOLI 1991. 39 CIRELLI/TONTINI 2010, pp. 126–127. 40 Ibidem, p. 127. 41 SAGUÌ/MIRTI 2003. 42 DE MARINIS 1991; FIORI 2013, p. 34.

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Everyday objects are the most common items found. The workshop in Classe specialized in the production of applied glass, primarily drinking glasses of Ising type 96, and from the second half of the sixth century, chalices of Ising type 111.43 In addition, it is likely that the workshop in Classe also made glazed pottery, probably of the “S. Maria Padovetere” type. The provenance of this pottery has not been agreed upon by all scholars, but the majority believe it came from Ravenna.44 The coexistence of glass production with ceramics production was very common; it is hard, in fact, to imagine that these two branches of craft production would function independently within the same city. Ceramic and glass workshops shared recipes, experience, and manpower, as well as using the same production materials and tools (e.g. furnaces), and they both needs large supplies of suitable fuel. Finally, they both had to be located outside of inhabited areas because of the danger of fire. Aside from this historical logic, archaeological finds also indicate that glass and ceramic were produced together. A furnace and a crucible containing glass (neither yet dated) were found in the same area as ceramic kilns in Water Newton, Cambridgeshire. Glass furnaces from the second century and later were discovered among ceramic furnaces in the village of Mancetter (North Warwickshire), and waste from glassmaking has been found among ceramic kilns from the late first- or early-second-century in Sheepen (Colchester). Britain also offers other evidence of cooperation between two or more diverse crafts in one place. In the second century, a glass atelier at Moorgate in London was also associated with the working of metals, leather and bone. Glassmakers in second- or third-century Deansway (Wercester) made their glass in the same place where ironworking took place; in Leicester, a glass workshop may have been associated with the cupellation of silver in the third or fourth century.45 At Classe, apart from ceramic and glass fragments, there are traces of wrought iron dated to the fifth century, testifying to cooperation not unlike that in Britain. Half-worked bones, in layers dated to the sixth or seventh century, were also identified there.46 Thus, archaeology and historical logic show that multiple crafts probably worked together in the suburbs of Ravenna, a location, which gave them easy access to raw materials and fuel.

Tesserae production

Tesserae were cut from glass caked in a thickness of ca. 0,7 cm. Pre-made cakes could be brought to secondary workshops, but according to Marianne Stern, glassmakers also prepared these cakes themselves. The process is easy, requiring little skill but large quantities

43 CIRELLI/TONTINI, p. 130. 44 Ibidem, p. 125. 45 PRICE 2005, p. 174, n. 13. 46 AUGENTI/CIRELLI 2012, p. 208.

95 of fuel. The surface tension of glass causes each piece of raw glass to dissolve into a puddle after when melted, after which it will cool into a cake with a thickness of from 0.7 to 0.8 cm.47 Marianne Stern, based on her own experiences in the production of glass, believes that mosaicists could very easily have melted chunks of glass without a furnace; a simple fire pot sufficed. The temperature required to melt glass for artisanal work is thus not more than 900 or 950 °C.48 While there is no need of special skills for the production of the cakes themselves, coloring glass is very difficult process for many reasons, requiring experience and many craft skills. First, it is necessary to know which ingredients to add, in which amount, and at which moment of the melting process, in order to achieve the color and hue desired. It was easy to produce bright and transparent colors, but more difficult to produce opaque glass. Opaque yellow and green require a great deal of experience with the preparation of the coloring agents. Some colors require relatively rare components, such as cobalt for the production of dark blue. For an opaque dark red, the amount of oxygen in the melting glass had to be precisely controlled, and only a craftsman with a good deal of experience could do this correctly. Furthermore, the temperature in the furnace and the timing of the firing both affect the final color as well.49 All of these processes required knowledge or ownership of precise and well-tested recipes, plus great expertise; the recipes and the expertise would be found only where there was a deeply rooted tradition of craftsmanship. According to Liz James, it is unlikely that glassmakers themselves produced cakes in secondary workshops, considering all the specific requirements that this production requires. James suggests that it would have been easier to import pre-colored glass, or even pre-cut tesserae. James believes that either possibility required a workshop specialized in making colored glass, and that this was essentially a specific trade.50 If this was the case, there must have existed an intermediary phase of production between the makers of raw glass and the mosaicists workshop. In this intermediary phase, raw glass would have been dyed and cast into cakes, then sent on to craftsmen working on mosaic decoration. If we accepted this hypothesis, we would have to strictly distinguish between craftsmen working on mosaic decoration, and glassmakers themselves; mosaicists thus had no contact with the material side of mosaic production. Of all the archaeological evidence we have regarding glass production, none supports this hypothesis. Mosaic is a very complex medium, and the quality of mosaics, their brilliance, and their ability to reflect light require using different kinds and colors of tesserae depending on each particular building, its function, its light sources, and the overall effect desired. These slight differences in tesserae, in turn, depended on the abilities of masters-mosacists (or organizers of the works) to supervise not only the placement of tesserae, but also their

47 STERN 1999, p. 465. 48 Ibidem, p. 452. 49 JAMES 2006, p. 39. 50 Ibidem.

96 production using recipes handed down from generation to generation. The composition of the tesserae contributed to every effect, as did the way they were laid and composed, with underlying layers affecting the tone of the surface. Given the delicacy of the job, it is difficult to imagine that a master-mosaicist(s) would ignore the opportunity to determine the composition and precise hue of his tesserae. We know nothing about whether glassmakers in secondary workshops had knowledge of chemistry or not, but what we do know – from archaeological finds – is that the cakes are found only in places where tesserae are found as well. Cakes have not been found along with raw glass and glass shards in shipwrecks, but have been found in places where it appears mosaic was used. Glass cakes, together with tesserae and broken glass vessels, have been found at many sites in the Levant, e.g. in Khirbat Al-Karak,51 Tell Hesbân52 or Abila.53 A large quantity of round cakes in different colors (in several shades of blue-green, grey, black, and red) with a diameter of more than 40 cm and an average thickness of 3,4 cm were found in Jerash (Jordan).54 But the evidence that best helps us to understand mosaic production, in all its stages, comes from a church complex in Petra (Jordan), where glass production took place between the second half of the fifth and the early eighth centuries.55 Large quantities of glass fragments from broken vessels and lamps, thousands of scattered glass tesserae of various colors, and glass cakes have all been found in Petra. Some cakes were rectangular, some round or oval. Details of their surface indicate that they could be made by casting the glass directly onto the floor or into moulds.56 Chemical analysis of the glass has shown a connection between the three types of glass found at Petra (transparent broken glass vessels, cakes, tesserae). This makes it likely that glassmakers collected transparent glass and recycled it for local production of tesserae. When they re-melted broken glass, they added bone ash (calcium phosphate) as an opacifier and mangenese oxide for the discoloration of raw glass. In the next stage, they added coloring agents in order to create tesserae of different colors.57 No furnace has been found on the site, but given that the churches on the site were almost certainly decorated with mosaics, and the fact that all stages of glass tesserae production are in evidence at the complex, It is likely that tesserae were produced in situ at the church complex. I would exclude, in this case, the importation of pre- prepared glass cakes or tesserae. Although an experienced mosaicist could probably calculate fairly well the number of tesserae he needed for decorating a given church, and thus could (theoretically) have ordered them from elsewhere, local production assured that the necessary material would be always immediately at hand. But above all else, he could oversee the actual process of melting and coloring. Only in this way he could be sure to achieve the exact result

51 DELOUGAZ/HAINES 1960, p. 49. 52 GOLDSTEIN 1976. 53 MARII/REHREN 2006, p. 295. 54 BAUR 1938, pp. 517–518; STERN 1999, p. 466. 55 MARII/REHREN 2006. 56 Ibidem, p. 296. 57 Ibidem, p. 298.

97 desired. These finds from Petra are, in my opinion, our best evidence for the organization of mosaic production in Late Antiquity, and we can expect the pattern from Petra to have been repeated elsewhere.

Glass Production in Classe

We have much less evidence for the production of mosaic tesserae in Classe, something which might be explained by the fact that colored tesserae were frequently recycled and used as coloring agents. They were simply crushed and remelted, then added to a new mixture of molten glass. This is probably the fate that awaited 27 glass tesserae found by archaeologists near a furnace in Classe.58 The productive activity of this glassmaking workshop, sometime in the fifth or sixth century, coincided with a period when Ravenna’s churches were being extensively decorated, but this coincidence does not prove much. Cesare Fiori has compared glass found in Classe to tesserae from the site where the late-sixth-century Basilica of St. Severus once stood, hoping to ascertain whether the tesserae were produced locally. Chemical analysis has not confirmed that the tesserae were produced locally, but has shown that they are similar to tesserae from other Ravennate basilicas, perhaps indicating that a single source supplied the raw glass for Ravenna’s mosaics in the fifth and sixth centuries.59 We know that in Classe, as elsewhere, glassmakers worked with raw glass from the Syro-Palestinian and Egyptian coasts,60 and also with recycled glass from earlier periods.61 Analysis of tesserae from the Orthodox Baptistery in Ravenna shows that raw glass of different composition and origin was used in the same mosaics. The tesserae of the Baptistery can be divided into two groups. First, there are well-preserved tesserae made from glass produced in the Roman tradition, probably in Italy (tesserae of the same kind were used in mosaics in Roman churches between the fourth and twelfth centuries). Analysis has not shown, however, whether the tesserae were obtained from earlier mosaics or made expressly for the Baptistery by recycling older glass. The tesserae from the second group are more damaged, and are made from raw glass of a different origin, probably the Near East.62 We meet a similar situation at the Baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti in Milan (late fifth–early sixth century).63 Both of these sites reveal a very complex situation in which tesserae of greatly varying composition suggesting raw glass from different places, have been found even within a single mosaic. What is the explanation for the use of tesserae of similar appearance, but of different origin?

58 CIRELLI/TONTINI 2010, p. 128. 59 FIORI 2013. 60 MALTONI 2015, p. 17. 61 Ibidem, p. 14. 62 VERITÀ 2010, pp. 101–102. 63 NERI/VERITÀ 2012, pp. 24, 27. On the detailed analysis of mosaics Milan see NERI 2016. Especially on mosaics of San Giovanni alle Fonti in Milan see Ibidem, pp. 253–279.

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One possible explanation is that the glass cakes imported for mosaics from the Levant ran out before the decoration of the Orthodox Baptistery could be finished, and it was therefore necessary to complement them with tesserae made from a different, (probably Italian) source, or even vice versa. However, tesserae of different origins are so thoroughly mixed at the Baptistery that one tessera may differ not just from the tesserae in a different mosaic, but even from the tessera laid right next to it.64 I believe that the best way of explaining the tesserae in the Orthodox Baptistery is to assume that production there was organised in the similar way as at Petra, i.e. the mosaicist worked with imported raw glass of various origins and ages, recycling glass vessels and re- using tesserae from destroyed mosaics. The composition of the raw glass – the varying quality of which has left some tesserae much more weathered and damaged by the intervening 1500 years than others – was not important. It was up to the master-mosaicist(s) in charge of decoration of a particular space to use his experiences to transform whatever raw glass was at hand into tesserae of the desired colors and hues. The fact that glassmakers remained in one place long enough for local traditions to develop is documented by one of Constantine’s regulations from August of 337. According to this regulation, glassblowers and those working with precious materials, such as goldsmiths, jewellers, engravers, gilders, ivory carvers, and stonemasons, were exempted from compulsory public service. The phrasing of the regulation suggests that glassworkers may have been hereditarily bound to their place of residence and trade:

“We decree that workers in the crafts included in the list appended below, abiding in their individual communities, should be exempted from all kinds of compulsory services, so that they might use their leisure for learning their crafts thoroughly; in this way may they both become more skilled themselves and train their sons.”65

This regulation was confirmed in the Code of Theodosius (438) and the (534)66. Such a tradition was probably brought to Ravenna by craftsmen who followed the Emperor’s court from Milan to Ravenna, as was the case for Ravenna’s architects. They brought to Ravenna the technique of producing glass tesserae, and they could benefit from all the advantages the port of Classe provided. The above-mentioned archaeometric analysis of the glass used in the Orthodox Baptistery and the Baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti in Milan

64 See more in detail in VERITÀ 2010. 65 “Artifices artium brevi subdito comprehensarum per singulas civitates morantes ab universis muneribus vacare praecipimus, si quidem ediscendis artibus otium sit accommodandum; quo magis cupiant et ipsi peritiores fier et suos filios erudire”. (cit. in STERN 1999, p. 458). 66 “Artifices artium brevi subdito comprehensarum per singulas civitates morantes ab universis muneribus vacare praecipimus, si quidem ediscendis artibus otium sit accommodandum, quo magis cupiant et ipsi peritiores fieri et suos filios erudire. et est notitia ista: architecti medici mulomedici pictores statuarii marmorarii lectarii seu laccarii clavicarii quadrigarii quadratarii ( quos graeco vocabulo livovyktas appellant) structores ( id est aedificatores) sculptores ligni musarii deauratores albini ( quos graeci ckoniatasc appellant) argentarii barbaricarii diatretarii aerarii fusores signarii fabri bracarii aquae libratores figuli ( qui graece kerameis dicuntur) aurifices vitrearii plumarii specula rii eborarii pelliones fullones carpentarii sculptores dealbatores cusores linarii tignarii blattearii (id est petalourgoi.” (Codex Theodosius, XIII, 4.2; Codex Iustinianus, 10.66.1; cit. in DELL'ACQUA 2004, p. 136; ADAMS 2000, p. 38, n. 173).

99 has given us our only evidence for the common practice of obtaining glass from more than one source, including recycling. Ravenna’s connection with Milan, however, is demonstrated by another continuity, this time a formal one. Nonetheless, the small amount of comparative material available to us makes it very difficult to formally analyse fifth-century mosaics or to determine the origin of the workshops that produced them. The only surviving mosaics from Ravenna itself are in the studied period those in the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia and in the Orthodox Baptistery. A comparison with contemporary mosaics from Constantinople is impossible from a material point of view, and comparisons with Rome and Milan are very limited. While we know the iconography of many lost Roman mosaics from later descriptions, drawings and engravings, and iconographic and iconological research are thus to a certain extent possible, in terms of raw materials we can only examine the mosaic decoration of the apse of the Basilica of (410– 417),67 two personifications of Ecclesia from the Basilica of (432–440),68 the mosaics in (432–440),69 the head of St. Peter from the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls (440–450),70 and the mosaic of St. John the Evangelist in the Lateran Baptistery (461–468).71 For Milan, the situation is much more fragmentary, and for the purposes of comparison, we can only use the decoration of the Chapel of S. Aquilino adjacent to the Church of St. Lawrence (after 388).72 It is, however, in this latter chapel where I find several noteworthy parallels: The figures from the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia [Fig. 47], the Orthodox Baptistery [Fig. 48], and the Chapel of S. Aquilino [Fig. 49] can be characterized as “drawings”. By this I mean that lines define the individual details and drapery folds, and are clear to the viewer. At the same time, however, the figures do not lack three-dimensionality, which is achieved by color modelling, especially by using bright white tesserae. What I consider unequivocal evidence of the links between these three monuments, in terms of craft practices, is the motif of the two-tone twisted ribbon that frames the scene in Milan [Fig. 50].73 This motif is present in an almost identical form, albeit in a different color, in both the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia [Fig. 51] and in the Orthodox Baptistery [Fig. 52]. Finally, the motif of intersecting circles found both in the southeast apse of S. Aquilino and in the northeastern apsidiola of the Orthodox Baptistery is another identical element [Figs 53, 54]. With the aforementioned Roman monuments, we find ourselves in a completely different aesthetic milieu. Although there are obviously great differences between individual Roman mosaics from this time, there is one feature that they all share. They lack the aforementioned “drawing”, and the individual tesserae are arranged in such a way that, upon

67 ANDALORO 2006. 68 LEARDI 2006, pp. 293–297. 69 MENNA 2006. 70 BORDI 2006. 71 PENNESI 2006. 72 For the mosaics of S. Aquilino see, most recently, FOLETTI 2015. 73 FOLETTI 2015, p. 131.

100 closer inspection, the image falls apart in the viewer's eye. There are colors that do not systematically fall to one side or another of any defining line, but the figures gain volume and precision when viewed from a distance. They could almost be called “impressionistic”. Craftsmen in all three centres did, however, use red tesserae for lines and parts of faces [Figs 56, 57, 58]. The contacts of Ravennate as well as Milanese craftsmen with mosaicists from Rome are documented on many levels.74 Comparisons with Milanese monuments leave no doubt that the artisans of the newly built imperial residence were from Milan, and they probably continued to collaborate with those who stayed in Milan after the Emperor’s relocation. Ivan Foletti has recently shown that the same process may have taken place earlier in Milan; in that case, the local tradition was established by artisans from Rome itself. While artisans could adopt new iconographic motifs through cooperation with new colleagues or in response to a request from a client, the difficult process of coloring glass tesserae and the methods of using them to achieve a particular overall effect had to come from years of experience and tradition; this was not an art which could arise independently of earlier practice in other cities.75 Therefore, mosaic production in major Mediterranean cities needs to be treated as another of the networks of artistic exchange that were common in the Late Antique world.

Summary

Specialized studies of recent years have made remarkable progress towards the understanding of glass production in Late Antiquity. In art history, the material aspects of objects are very often neglected, whereas laboratory analysis of materials can lose sight of the meaning and purpose of art; when these disciplines are separated from each other, misinterpretations can result. The combination of various disciplines is required to fully understand any work of art, but this is particularly true for the medium. Cetty Muscolino highlights the difficulties in studying mosaics: “This basic complexity, this diversity and co- existence of materials, complicates all work undertaken on a mosaic, from diagnosis to cataloguing, from study to conservation.”76 Archaeometric analysis of glass found by archaeologists enables us to describe the composition of the tesserae, or in some cases to connect them with sites where raw glass was produced. This analysis has taught us that glassmaking was organised into two distinct sectors. Archaeological excavations can tell us which specific kinds of glass production took place at a given workshop, and give us a much better understanding of workshop praxis. The personal experience of scholars such as Marianne Stern, who previously worked as a glassblower, is of fundamental importance to this comprehensive study, and makes our scholarly discussions

74 For other parallels between Milan and Ravenna see ANDREESCU TREADGOLD 1992; SOTIRA 2014. For more detail on links between Milanese mosaics and Roman art see FOLETTI 2015. 75 For other parallels see ANDREESCU TREADGOLD 1992; SOTIRA 2014. 76 MUSCOLINO 2013, p. 43.

101 more practical and useful. Others who have contributed to our understanding are those researchers who have had the opportunity to closely examine mosaics during restoration works, e.g. Cetty Muscolino. Based on her direct experience with Ravennate mosaic decoration, she suggests, for example, that tesserae of regular size and shape were cut on site but on the floor of the building, while specially-shaped tesserae such as those for the faces of the main figures were cut directly on the scaffolding.77 Taken together, the various approaches described above give us a fairly comprehensive idea of how glassmaking workshops functioned in Classe. The existence of glassmaking in Classe has been confirmed for as early as the mid-fifth century by archaeological finds of a glass furnace and glass fragments around it. These finds are not surprising, given the city’s very convenient location, its easy access to necessary raw materials and fuel, and the presence in nearby Ravenna – since 402 – of a social class which could afford expensive glassware. And expensive it was, as shown by Marianne Stern, who used the Edict on Maximum Prices issued by the emperor Diocletian in 307 to calculate that the price of a glass vessel was ten to twenty times higher than the price of an equivalent ceramic vessel. The price of one or two average-sized vessels of the type called Judaean glass or Alexandrian glass was as much as the daily wage of an unskilled labourer. But at the same time, the author points out that the final selling price of glass was very low compared to the cost of making it. Glassmakers earned their living the hard way.78 Neither archaeological findings nor laboratory analyses have proven, as of yet, that the glass tesserae needed to decorate the churches of the new sedes imperii were produced locally. Local production must be considered for several reasons. First of all, demand was high in the fifth and sixth centuries, certainly enough to encourage local artisans to begin local production. The glass workshop documented in Classe could have employed not just glassblowers, but also craftsmen specialized in making cakes. The actual production of colored cakes could also have taken place in situ at the church, as was likely the case in Petra. In each case, the mosaicists would control the dyeing process, and thus could be certain that the results met their requirements. If the opposite had been true, i.e. if finished cakes had been imported and then cut in situ, the mosaicists would have been completely separated from the production of his glass, for which reason I consider this scenario unlikely. The mosaicists would have then been dependent on supplies of tesserae in a pre-ordered quantity, and would have lost one of their principal means of achieving the effects that were expected from his mosaics. To fit this “import” hypothesis, Liz James considered the existence of an intermediary phase of glass production and commerce in glass cakes, but this is not supported by the archaeological evidence. The mosaicist’s skill and experiences in coloring glass, his materials’ brilliance and the ability of glass tesserae to reflect light, and the technique of laying the tesserae in layers to

77 MUSCOLINO 2013. 78 STERN 1999, pp. 460–466; PRICE 2005, p. 179.

102 achieve varying effects – these are the things which make a mosaic. The quality of a mosaic comes from a deep-rooted tradition and the mosaicist’s skills in influencing the coloring process with recipes handed down from generation to generation. Logistics, economics, and craft practices all meant that glass tesserae for the new imperial seat were, I think, produced locally, either in the nearby port of Classe or directly in situ where the mosaics were laid.

103

104

IVORIES AND JEWELLERY

Another craft we can expect to find in any place where the emperor, his court, and imperial administration reside, either temporarily or permanently, is and there are several examples probably produced in Ravenna which meet this assumption. Above all, consular diptychs, commonly produced in the fifth and sixth centuries, seem to have been perceived as necessary for ostentatiously displaying the wealth and power of influential men.1 Consular diptychs were issued in commemoration of a certain event, upon a consul’s inauguration, or for the organization of games in the circus.2 The commissioning and donation of ivory diptychs was so admired that this custom was also adopted by other dignitaries, and even private persons, who had diptychs made on the occasions of family holidays, weddings, etc.3 These well-known artefacts, associated with famous personalities and events, also become models for the production of similar objects by the Church. These displayed Christian iconography and had a liturgical function.4 That Ravenna might be one of the most important sites for production of luxury ivories was first suggested by Jules Labart, whose hypothesis was accepted and further developed by Georg Stuhlfauth.5 Thanks to their research, several of the entries in the catalogue of Wolfgang Fritz Volbach (one of the primary sources for knowledge of late antique and early medieval ivory for more than one hundred years) were listed as having been made at Ravenna.6 The artefacts in the catalogue, whose manufacture was ascribed to northern Italy, and particularly to Ravenna, were examined in more detail by Volbach in Avori di scuola ravennate nel V e VI secolo (1977).7 Volbach’s work is based on comparative formal and iconographic analysis, but from the beginning, the author logically assumed that Honorius’ court, a place where objects of precious metal and fabrics were common, must have had a workshop producing ivory objects for the Emperor and consuls. According to Volbach, the artistic milieu that had developed in Milan was transferred to Ravenna without a loss in quality.8 Given that the transfer of the imperial court also meant a transfer of architects, stonemasons, and glassmakers (as I have tried to show in previous chapters), ivory

1 The first of these diptychs known to us is dated 406 (Probus), the last to 541 (Basilius). In the year 541 the ordinary consulate was closed to private citizens, see more in BAGNALL 1987, pp. 10–12. For a critical summary of previous research see OLOVSDOTTER 2005, pp. 10–13. 2 CAMERON 1998, p. 399; CAMERON 1986, p. 55; OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 9; CAMERON 2011, p. 732. 3 CAPPS 1927, p. 62. 4 Diptychs had a special function within the liturgy because they were used for inscriptions of the names on their reverses. The names were read as part of the ’s prayer for intercession. One piece of evidence for the public reading of these names during the mass is a mention in one of the letters of Pope Innocent I, who died in 417, but its text shows a practice already long established. See more in LECLERQ 1920, p. 1051; NAVONI 2007, p. 300. More about the inscriptions on the reverse of the diptychs in CAILLET 2011. 5 LABARTE 1864/1866; STUHLFAUTH 1896. 6 VOLBACH 1916; Idem 1952; Idem 1976. For the possible existence of ivory production in Ravenna, see also DEICHMANN 1989, pp. 347–348. 7 VOLBACH 1977. 8 VOLBACH 1977, pp. 8–9.

105 carvers surely followed, since these artisans were so important for visual representating the power of consuls and other significant persons. Recent archaeological excavations allow us to state with certainty that ivory had to be cut either close its source, or in a large population centre located along trade routes; at such a place, ivory could be supplied, there were craftsmen familiar with the tradition of carving, and there were clients able to pay for the final products.9 Ravenna, with the imperial court and its wealth, craftsmen who continued traditions originally developed at Milan, and the coastal port of Classe for bringing in supplies for craft production, satisfied all of these conditions. Archaeologists have not found ivory products in Ravenna, but if we examine the problems associated with archaeological finds of ivory, this in no way precludes Ravenna being a centre of production. For a demonstration of the limits of archaeology when it comes to ivory, let us look at the results of archaeological surveys of several other places where we suppose that ivory was carved. Rome, for example, was the place most suitable for holding ceremonies displaying imperial authority, and we would therefore expect that ivory diptychs and other items were made there. Sure enough, archaeological research conducted between 1989 and 1994 on the northeastern slope of Palatine led by the American Academy in Rome and the Soprintendenza Archeologica di Roma, found evidence of a long-standing and deeply-rooted tradition of ivory carving at that location.10 Around 1500 finds of bone and ivory, dated from the first century BC to the sixth century AD, were made on the Palatine.11 Ivory objects and debris amount to only a tenth of the total volume of bones, but this fact does not allow us to say anything about the actual volume of material processed, since ivory is a very fragile material and if it survives to be uncovered by archaeologists, then it is usually in a very bad state of preservation. Archaeological excavation itself can further damage ivory fragments. What is more, ivory is rarely found because it was so often recycled in the Antique world. Normal bone was so cheap and easily available that a large amount of waste was produced in the process of carving. But ivory was treated differently; broken or otherwise damaged pieces were transformed into other objects, e.g. dice or hairpins, so as to minimise waste of this precious material. An inscription on the Acropolis in records the purchase of ivory for a statue of Athena Parthenos, but also the subsequent sale of residual material. Even in Olympia, where a huge statue of Zeus was carved, far more bone than ivory has been found.12 Thus we cannot say with certainty that ivory diptychs for demanding clients from the higher ranks of Roman officials were made on the Palatine, because no direct evidence for this craft has been found there. We are in the same situation with Ravenna. For now, we must continue to work with the hypothesis that objects for important people in public life were, in

9 ST. CLAIR 2008, p. 260. 10 Idem 1996; Idem 2003, Idem 2008. 11 Idem 2008, p. 250. 12 Ibidem, p. 251.

106 most cases, made at the place where these people resided.13 Following this logic, Wolfgang Fritz Volbach assigns the Diptych of Probus and the Symmachi-Nicomachi Diptych to Rome, ’s Diptych to Milan, the Diptych of Consul Asturius to , and the Barberini Diptych to Constantinople. Volbach believes that “the history of Ravenna, too, recalls the names of persons of great importance, persons depicted on ivory works of art”.14 In the previous chapters dealing with the production of architectural elements, sarcophagi, and glass, it was always possible to include the results of new archaeological discoveries and thereby, at least to some extent, to explain the appearance of the final product. In the case of ivory, the archaeological problems described above force us to rely on formal analysis. It remains the only tool for art historians, and even a hundred years after the first edition of Volbach’s catalogue, it is often impossible to establish anything more than a formal resemblance between surviving works. From a methodological point of view, however, I consider it necessary to examine Volbach’s term scuola. This term will serve as a starting point for an attempt to understand, concretely, the work of ivory carvers. The most attention will be devoted to one of the key pieces from Volbach’s Ravennate “school” of ivory carving, the Five-Part Diptych, now kept in the treasury of Milan and dated to the bishopric of Neon (451–473) [Fig. 59 a,b].15 In 2014, in a monographic study titled “ and Loyalty”, I tried to explain the importance of these panels for Ravenna in the second mid-fifth century. Some space will be devoted to the iconographical interpretation of the Five-Part Diptych’s panels in the second part of this work.16 In the present chapter, I will use this rare artefact as a case study so that we may obtain a more comprehensive grasp of artistic production in Ravenna and its aesthetics in general. In addition, the Five-Part Diptych is a unique monument, since it combines ivory carving and goldsmithing in the central panels. It is evidence for the hypothesis that luxurious cloisonné jewellery was made at Ravenna.17

Volbach’s “School” of Ivory Carvers

Volbach’s work Avori di scuola ravennate nel V e VI secolo18 is the result of an effort to map the surviving ivories and to classify them into chronological groups. Despite all these efforts, however, Volbach himself admits that it is very difficult to ascribe a given work to the “Ravenna school” on the basis of stylistic similarities, and to identify features that could be defined as unique for Ravenna.19 The desire of researchers to clearly distinguish various “schools” based on style was inevitable in art history in the first half of the twentieth century,

13 VOLBACH 1978. 14 “Anche la storia di Ravenna ricorda nomi di personaggi di grande rilievo, personaggi raffigurati in opere eburnee” (Idem 1977, p. 9). 15 FRANTOVÁ 2014/1 reviewed by SPIER 2015. 16 See pp. 190–193 of this work. 17 FRANTOVÁ 2014/2. 18 VOLBACH 1977. 19 Ibidem, p. 12.

107 but what exactly does this term mean? Is a “school” an organized group within a city that produced its works for generations using the same formal design? Did only one workshop exist within that centre, or could more workshops be active there at the same time? If there could be more workshops, did they produce their products by exchanging ideas between themselves within the city, and thus differently than in other places? And finally, are the terms “school”, “workshop”, and “atelier” synonymous, or does the term “school” reflect a higher level of organization? I.e., if more than one workshop existed in a place, were they all incorporated into one “school”? According to Anthony Cutler, the terms “atelier”, “workshop” and “school” are all constructs based merely on perception of formal similarities. Products of an “atelier” are, in recent studies, understood as having a certain degree of similarity, while the production of a “school” shows much less coherence. Although Anthony Cutler does not deny the necessity of searching for formal similarities between individual artefacts, he rightly points out that when two works show similar formal characteristics, but perhaps too many differences for us to attribute them the same craftsman or workshop, we have no right to simply invent a larger organizational unit called a “school” in the hope that the term will continue to hold the works together in spite of their differences.20 In my opinion, we will get a much better idea of the artistic milieu in Ravenna if we think about the way late antique carving was practically organised. It has been Anthony Cutler who has been most interested, over the long term, in researching the material side of this craft and the practical functioning of ivory carvers’ workshops.21 His study from 1994, though focused on the East between the ninth and eleventh centuries, may, in its general conclusions, provide a clearer picture for the previous period as well. 22 The masters trained pupils, transferring experience from generation to generation as in other crafts. Some carvers relied on the methods acquired for their whole lives, while others adapted themselves to changes of taste or to the demands of a particular patron. Compared with sarcophagi or glass production, ivory carving did not require any special conditions nor intricate organization. The only things the so-called eburarii needed in order to exercise their craft were skill, a work desk, a few tools, and customers who would buy their products. The activity of artisans working in ivory was not restricted by imperial security rules, as was the case with ceramics or glassmakers. Given these undemanding conditions, the carver could work even in the house where he lived.23 The production was going on by transferring of semi-worked material from one craftsman to another, from working the raw material to layout, from cutting to polishing. But it was also possible for one craftsman to execute the entire work. One pair of hands was

20 CUTLER 1994, pp. 70–71. 21 Idem 1985; Idem 1994. 22 Ibidem. 23 CUTLER 1994, pp. 66–67.

108 sufficient for moving, chopping, and cutting a cargo of raw tusks, and for finishing the product. Even one individual craftsmen, possibly with the help of family members or of assistants, might be able to fulfill a commission from the Imperial Palace of from the elites more or less associated with the imperial court. The ivory carver could produce objects for daily use, albeit luxurious ones, “on spec” and attempt to sell them on the market. We have no evidence that ivory carving was regulated by the imperial court, as was the case with jewellery or weapons in Constantinople,24 nor any evidence which would entitle us to describe this craft with the term “imperial”.25 The fact that the vast majority of the surviving artefacts from the period in question were ordered by high officials in the Roman Empire tells us little about overall production, since it was precisely those commissioned works that had a better chance of surviving. The surviving works show great formal variety, as well as varying skill levels among their makers, all of which suggests that a large number of artisans could have been active within the same environment and period.26 These ideas about the way ivory carvers worked, as outlined by Anthony Cutler, are logical enough, and permit us to abandon Volbach’s vague term “school”. “Workshop” provides a much more precise definition, but this term is understood as the workplace of an individual master-craftsman, not as a concept grouping all more or less formally similar artefacts under one umbrella. While stonemasonry and glass production required more sophisticated organisation, meaning that there may not have been more than one such workshop in a given city, we have no reason to assume this for ivory carvers. Given this environment in which individual carvers worked, it is not, from my point of view, necessary to retrospectively create groups of these craftsmen. And yet, the ivory artefacts from Volbach’s “school”, for which we have accurate dates thanks to iconological analysis (Halberstadt Diptych,27 Milan Five-part Diptych28), can help us understand artistic production and the aesthetics of the period in Ravenna in general. If we keep an open mind while comparing the ivories with other media, despite the limits inherent in such a procedure, we can see the kind of mutual exchange – of models, ornamental decoration, and the gestures and poses depicted in – which is a sign of a “culturally sanctioned frame of reference”.29 In this frame of reference, for example, human emotions were displayed in a limited number of positions. The fact that the same methods of rhetorical expression can be found in mosaics, stucco decorations, sarcophagi, jewellery, and ivories shows that they were not the exclusive repertoire of one particular craft. What binds these artists together is not only a repertoire of terms or patterns transmitted between workshops, but also their

24 Codex Justinianus XI.XI.1, cit. in DEPPERT-LIPPITZ 2000, p. 75. 25 VOLBACH 1977, p. 11. 26 CUTLER 1994, p. 248. Surviving consular diptychs are a mere fragment of a more numerous group. It has been suggested that the original number of consular diptychs issued in the late Roman period amount to tens of thousands. It is based on the assumption that each appointed consul in the East and West between 370–542 had to issue a series of diptychs to a relatively wide number of recipients. See more in OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 2. 27 See pp. 154–160 of this work. 28 FRANTOVÁ 2014/1 and pp. 190–193 of this work. 29 CUTLER 1994, p. 70.

109 coexistence on the market. Concentrations of many artists in one city allowed, and perhaps even required, a constant exchange of ideas and models.30 It was not just an inter-connection based on shared patterns, but, as mentioned in the chapter dealing with the production of glass, workshops from different fields could also share personnel, location, or even techniques. This would explain why Wolfgang Fritz Volbach found common traits in Ravenna’s ivories, sarcophagi, and mosaics.31 Although the author did not define his approach in this way, nor in many cases did he clearly describe specific comparisons, it seems that his concept of “Ravenna's school” depends, to a certain extent, on the above assumptions.

Grouping Ravenna’s Ivories

One of the key pieces for Volbach's Ravennate school of ivory-carving, and the best demonstration of the way various crafts were blended (as described above), is the Five-Part Diptych now kept in the treasury of the cathedral in Milan [Fig. 59 a, b].32 Scholars call these two ivory panels the Five-Part Diptych because each of them is assembled, using mortice and tenon joints, from five separately carved ivory panels. The horizontal panels depict one scene, lined by the crowns of oak trees and the symbols of the Evangelists. On the vertical panels there are decoratively framed scenes divided into three smaller fields. Hence, in total, there are sixteen Biblical or Apocryphal stories from the life of Christ and the Virgin Mary. The central panels, presenting a lamb and a cross, are executed in cloisonné.33 On formal grounds, Volbach put this diptych into the same group as the consular Halberstadt Diptych [Fig. 60], the Diptych of Felix [Fig. 61], and the Diptych of Patricius from Novara [Fig. 62].34 Volbach described their similarities in 1977, and compared the figures’ clothing on the Five-Part Diptych with the soft folds on the drapery of the stucco figures in the Orthodox Baptistery [Fig. 63].35 He found the same wide and billowing drapery on the Rouen Diptych,36 highlighted the connection between Gallic funerary sculpture and “Ravennas pyxis”, and considered the close relationship of Gallic art with the art of Northern Italy. Volbach ascribed all of these monuments “to the first period of Ravenna’s school, especially on the basis of

30 CUTLER 1994, p. 70. 31 VOLBACH 1977, p. 10. 32 VOLBACH 1976, n. 119, pp. 84–85; VOLBACH 1977, pp. 14, 16, 18–19, 24–25, 27–28, 33. Older bibliography: SMITH 1918; CAPPS 1927; SOPER 1938; DELBRÜCK 1951; VOLBACH 1952, p. 62; BECKIWTH 1958/1; GRABAR 1966, p. 289; BOVINI 1969; GABORIT-CHOPIN 1978, pp. 26–27; WRITGHT 1981; SENA CHIESA 1990, p. 108; NAVONI 2007; SPIER 2007, pp. 256–258. A special place in the bibliography is taken by the brief mention by David H. Wright in the review of Volbach’s catalogue (WRIGHT 1981) and study of Marco Navoni (NAVONI 2007). They were the only ones to focus on the question of the original function of the diptych. For overall interpretation of the artefact see FRANTOVÁ 2014/1, reviewed by SPIER 2015. 33 For detailed description of the narrative scenes see FRANTOVÁ 2014/1, pp. 163–183. 34 VOLBACH 1976, n. 35, pp. 42–43, esp. p. 42; Diptych of Felix: VOLBACH 1976, n. 2, p. 30; ANDERSON 1979; Diptych of Patricius from Novara: FORMIS 1967; VOLBACH 1976, n. 64, p. 56; BRECKENRIDGE 1979/2; COMPOSTELA 1990, p. 340; GAGETTI 2007. 35 VOLBACH 1977, p. 19. 36 Idem 1976, n. 146, p. 97–98.

110 comparisons with reliefs of the sarcophagi of this age”. 37 Volbach’s observation of formal similarities with images in the Orthodox Baptistery deserves more detailed attention. For a formal comparison, I would choose mosaics, rather than choosing stucco like Volbach. This is because the stucco has lost its original colored paint, something which would have allowed the artists to fill out the modelling of individual details, and thus change the resulting aesthetic effect.38 The result was certainly different from what we see today. For the mosaic decoration of the baptistery, the Liber pontificalis by Agnellus offers a reliable date. He refers to a lost epigraph, probably once inscribed on a marble panel and placed in the opus sectile above the entrance. The inscription mentioned Bishop Neon (458),39 probably the man who commissioned the diptych as well.40 If we compare the diptych’s figures of the Apostles carrying their crowns to Christ [Fig. 64] with the figures in the cupola of the baptistery [Fig. 65], then we have to agree with Volbach. In both cases, the bodies take on volume, particularly in the middle part of the body, and the massive, heavy drapery with deep, bowl-shaped folds is also similar. The “Antique” lightness and naturalness with which the drapery covers the body is still present here. The billowing cloak of the saints in the Milanese scene, where they offer Christ their martyrs’ crowns, is almost identical. The cloak tightens along the body, but billows out at the end, adding movement to the figures. Undergarments are marked with straight vertical lines, modelled only a little. We can also look at the somewhat later decoration of the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia.41 Let us focus on the figures of the Apostles located in the crossing [Fig. 66], and compare them with the figure of Christ from the scene of the Resurrection of Lazarus on the Five-Part Diptych [Fig. 67]. In both cases, the figures are thin, but the central part of the body is massive, formed by heavy drapery falling into a deep fold and converging radially toward the left hand. Also, the underclothes of the Mausoleum’s Apostles are identical with those of the diptych’s Christ, created with straight vertical lines; still, the figures are not formed merely by the drapery – underneath it, the human body can be sensed, and bent knees ensure this in both mosaics and diptych. The folds of the drapery are created by light and shadow, as far as the media allow. The overall impression is soft, mobile, a continuation of the tradition also seen on Late Antique Roman sarcophagi. It seems logical to group these Ravennate mosaics with the Five-Part Diptych; they are characteristic of the aesthetic taste of the fifth century, and seem to be from the same artistic milieu. Volbach’s grouping of the Five-Part Diptych with sarcophagi from Ravenna is a particularly good example of how artistic exchanges, including iconographic ones, could occur in a vibrant artistic milieu.42 The Adoration of the Magi on Isaac's sarcophagus from the

37 “(…) al primo periodo della scuola di Ravenna, soprattutto base di confronti con i rilievi dei sarcofagi di quest'epoca”. (Idem 1977, p. 27). 38 KOSTOF 1965, p. 95. 39Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 28. 40 FRANTOVÁ 2014/1, pp. 140–160. 41 RIZZARDI 1996/1. 42 VOLBACH 1976, p. 84.

111 beginning of the fifth century [Fig. 68] finds its parallels on the Five-Part Diptych, especially in the clothing of the three Magi, their lively movement, their flowing robes, their hands outstretched with gifts, as well as in a significant iconographic detail – the gesture where the middle Magus turns his head backwards [Fig. 69].43 A similar version of this scene can be found on a unique marble artefact called the Capsella di Ss. Quirico e Giulitta, now preserved in Ravenna’s Museo Arcivescovile, and dated to 440–450 [Fig. 70]. Besides the Adoration of the Magi, the Capsella shows the Annunciation, the Traditio Legis, and Daniel in the lions' den. Its style and iconography link it to the Traditio Legis on the backside of the Sarcophagus of Liberius [Fig. 71], the stucco Traditio Legis and Daniel in the Orthodox Baptistery [Fig. 72], and the Adoration of the Magi on the Sarcophagus of Isaac [Fig. 68].44 The Capsella di Ss. Quirico e Giulitta is another example of exchanges and cooperation between different artistic fields, as well as proof that there were skilled craftsmen, capable of refined and detailed work in marble, in Ravenna. They worked with the same models as mosaicists, ivory carvers, stonemasons producing sarcophagi, and the craftsmen who carried out the stucco decoration of the Orthodox Baptistery. Above the entrance to the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, there is a scene depicting Christ as the Good Shepherd, and the scene’s lambs are characteristic of this milieu [Fig. 73]. More specifically, the lamb at Christ’s right hand (with its elegant stance, head turned almost three-quarters towards the rear, and curled tufts of hair), and the lamb on the central panel of the Five-Part Diptych, show their common heritage in the “classical” naturalistic tradition. After these formal comparisons, let us turn to the cloisonné work on the central panels of the Five-Part Diptych and the craftsmen who executed it: goldsmiths and jewellery-makers.

Garnet cloisonné

The central panel depicting the Lamb of God is assembled from a geometric net of interconnected compartments (cloisons) of gilded silver filled with red, black, or greyish glass paste and 119 natural garnets [Fig. 74]. The cross in the second panel is assembled from gilded boxes set next to one another, rather than interconnected, and is inlaid with precious stones and pearls.45 These two decorative goldworking techniques are elements of the so- called “polychrome style”,46 which is generally connected with the period of the “Great Migration” at the end of the fourth and in the fifth century.47 Recently, the first technique has been the subject of intensive research, and jewellery found in royal graves in Europe and the

43 ANGIOLINI MARTINELLI / BOVINI 1968, p. 82. 44 VALENTI ZUCCHINI/BOVINI/BUCCI/FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1968–1969, n. 138, pp. 81–82. 45 More detail on the analysis of the individual stones in SUPERCHI 1986. 46 VOLBACH 1967, p. 215. 47 CALLIGARO 2000, p. 15.

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Near East has been analyzed with modern technologies.48 Cloisonné objects have been found in the Parthian and Sassanian empires, in Hellenised trading cities along the Silk Route and around the Black Sea, in the Iberian, Colchian, and Armenian kingdoms in the Caucasus, and in the Kushan, Kushano-Sasanian, and Eastern Hunnic kingdoms, in present day Afghanistan, Pakistan and Central Asia.49 Among the most sophisticated and oft-studied examples of this jewellery are those pieces found in Apahida () [Fig. 75],50 Tournai () [Fig. 76],51 Blučina-Cezavy (Czech Republic) [Fig. 77]52 and Pouan (France) [Fig. 78]53 all have been dated to the second half of the fifth century. To this group we must add slightly later pieces from Ostrogothic Italy (Domagnano54 and Desana55), and slightly earlier examples from Kerch in the Crimea (the June 4, 1904 Hospital Street tomb, and Tomb 145) from the first quarter of the fifth century.56 Based on a study of how the compartments were assembled, Marco Aimone included the lamb from Five-Part Diptych in this group of cloisonné works.57 The similarity of the central panel of the Five-Part Diptych to contemporary cloisonné artefacts suggests that cloisonné jewellery might have been made at Ravenna. This hypothesis has, in fact, found support among scholars for many reasons.58 In order to evaluate it, we will need to outline the historiographical debates about the origin of this type of jewellery, as well as examine the results of recent analyses carried out using modern technologies.59 These studies alert us that we may need to reappraise where the cloisonné style originated, as well as the style’s meaning and function in Late Antique society.60

The Origin

Confronted with the wide geographical distribution of these finds, scholars have, inevitably, offered wildly differing theories of where it originated. In older historiography, “barbarian”, Greco-Roman, and Persian origins were typically considered,61 based almost

48 E.g. ARRHENIUS 1985; ADAMS 2006; KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007; ARRHENIUS 2010; AIMONE 2011. 49 ADAMS 2000, p. 13. 50 CALLIGARO 2000, n. 29–31, pp. 172–191 with complete bibliography. See also OANŢĂ-MARGHITU 2008. 51 CALLIGARO 2000, n. 37, pp. 206–209. See also KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007. 52 CALLIGARO 2000, n. 33, pp. 197–199 with complete bibliography. See also ADAMS 2000, p. 38. 53 CALLIGARO 2000, n. 27, pp. 166–169 with complete bibliography. 54 KIDD 1987; PÉRIN 2008; AIMONE 2011, pp. 463–478. 55 AIMONE 2010; Idem 2011, pp. 463–478. 56 ADAMS 2000, pp. 32–35; AIBABIN 2008. Only these two tombs of the whole complex of catacombs on Mt. Mithradates contain cloisonné work, and only these two were equipped with eastern Roman silver. (ADAMS 2000, p. 31). 57 AIMONE 2011, p. 481. 58 KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007; ADAMS 2000, p. 49; AIMONE 2011, 483ff; FRANTOVÁ 2014/2. 59 E.g. ARRHENIUS 1985; ADAMS 2006; KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007; ARRHENIUS 2010; AIMONE 2011. 60 More about the problem of Grand Migration in CALLIGARO 2000, pp. 11–25. 61 DE BAYE 1890; ROSTOVTSEFF 1922; ROSTOVTSEFF 1929, pp. 47–48; RIEGL 1901–1923; LASTEYRIE 1875; DE LINAS 1877–1887. More about historiography in ADAMS 2000, p. 14.

113 exclusively on where the jewellery had been found. In the years before and after World War II, scholars tried to narrow this down to “Germanic” or “Hunnic” traditions, often under the influence of nationalism or Pan-Slavism.62 A shift occurred thanks to the work of Swedish archaeologist Birgit Arrhenius in the 1970s and 80s. Arrhenius developed a modern method for analysing jewels of this type. Her approach was based on the comparison of individual motifs, laboratory analysis (using gemology and chemical analysis of the cements which held stones in their compartments), and written sources.63 Arrhenius proposed a Constantinopolitan origin for the cloisonné jewellery found at Apahida and Tournai.64 Even if Arrhenius’ work remains fundamental for the exploration of early medieval cloisonné jewellery, recent research on material from has revealed some problems with her classification.65 Scholars are now taking a closer look at the patterns of distribution for cloisonné objects in the late antique world, and have brought stylistic and typological comparative analysis back into the picture.66 The studies of Noël Adams, on the cloisonné style between the first and the fifth centuries, have contributed to a significant shift in this field of research. Adams has carried out a broad review of extant pieces and assembled a basic classification system based on the way a piece of jewellery was executed, and its design and style. According to Adams, this makes it possible to examine the works without entering into ethnic and political debates.67 Adams’ studies have confirmed what Alois Riegl suggested a century ago: that the goldsmith’s technique of laying garnets and glass into a metal network of compartments, and the aesthetics associated with it (the “polychrome style”68) is firmly embedded in the Roman and Persian tradition. Its production is not associated with the Germanic world or Eurasian nomadic peoples, and the style reached its highest point of development in the centuries of Late Antiquity.69 However, according to Adams, there is no need to seek a single source for these jewels. The wide geographic distribution of finds should, according to Adams, be seen as a reflection of the enormous popularity of this type of jewellery.70 Michel Kazanski and Patrick Périn have hypothesised that garnet cloisonné jewellery was made at Ravenna, basing their theory, in part, on documentary evidence of contacts between the Frankish king Childeric and the imperial seat of the West.71 In 2011, Marco

62 Although this was most evident in the interwar years, the nationalist prejudices of German researchers had been pointed out as early as the late 1800s, by Alois Riegl (1858–1905). Riegls’ own position was determined by an imperial and internationalist approach to the question “Orient oder Rom?”, since he was a scholar of a multi- ethnic empire which had ambitions to be the heir of Rome. RIEGL 1901–1923 (1985), p. 192; more in OLIN 1994; ELSNER 2002; Dennert, M., “Alois Riegl”, in Personenlexikon, vol. 2, pp. 1079–1080.. 63 ARRHENIUS 1971; Eadem 1985; Eadem 2010. 64 Eadem 1985. 65 HORVÁTH 2012. 66 ADAMS 2000; AIMONE 2011; HORVÁTH 2012. 67 ADAMS 2000, p. 14. 68 ROSS 1961, pp. 17–21; VOLBACH 1967, p. 215; ADAMS 2000, p. 29. 69 ADAMS 2000. 70 ADAMS 2000, p. 14. 71 KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007.

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Aimone published a paper supporting the hypothesis of these two French archaeologists. In his very complex study, Aimone uses new data on goldsmithing in fifth and sixth-century Italy, and observes three phenomena: 1) the technical process of forming the compartments and mounting the stones within them, 2) the style of the individual objects, and 3) the social and symbolic significance of the objects and their use.72 Scholars have thus understood finds from Tournai and Apahida as imperial orders, executed in Constantinople or in related “satellite workshops”,73 or perhaps in ateliers in the Western Mediterranean.74 Noël Adams, however, reverses the question: could this difficult technique, in many cases so aesthetically refined, develop independently of the main urban centres?75 Is it possible to define a foreign or local character for these circulating objects? To answer this question, it will once more be necessary to look at craft practice itself.

Production of Garnet cloisonné

The term cloisonné is generally used for jewellery whose surface is completely covered, with the polychrome inlays of the compartments, which are soldered to the metal backing plate, forming the different patterns. The compartments are usually filled with slices of natural garnets or glass paste with a thickness of 1.5 to 2 mm. Recent studies have found the origin of this technique in the third century in the Black Sea region. The most significant archaeological discoveries are graves in Armaziskhevi, near Tbilisi in , from the second and third centuries. Most of the jewellery and silver plates found in Armaziskhevi were probably made by Roman craftsmen.76 More and more scholars now agree that the use of color inlay is rooted in the tradition of Greco-Roman jewellery. For Barbara Deppert-Lippitz, the cloisonné technique was a logical development of the well-established technique of individual box-setting. In her view, in Late Antiquity, only Roman and Byzantine goldsmiths had the necessary technical knowledge and skills, based on a long tradition. We also find refined goldsmithing in Germanic jewellery, but color inlay was unknown to Germanic craftsmen because, in the period in question, Germanic goldsmiths had no experience fitting the individual stones. Nor were they familiar with the cutting of gems, and they probably did not have the necessary mechanical experience and tools.77 Per Birgit Arrhenius, the roots of this technique lay in the fundamental discovery that the garnet may, under certain circumstances, be split into thin slices. Most garnets, especially those used in modern jewellery, do not allow splitting of their walls. However, if the garnet

72 AIMONE 2011. 73 ARRHENIUS 1985. 74 KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007. 75 ADAMS 2000, p. 13. 76 DEPPERT-LIPPITZ 2000, p. 73 77 Ibidem; ADAMS 2000, p. 47.

115 goes through secondary transformation, some of the walls may be damaged. The garnets will then acquire a layered structure that allows them to be split. Splitting is achieved by heating and then cooling them before cutting. Thin slices of garnet can be subsequently shaped with templates and high-speed wheels. This craft requires great skill and experience, and it seems that it is one of the greatest achievements of ancient technology. It was a development that, according to Arrhenius, had to grow out of the Hellenistic tradition of gem cutting.78 The difficult technique of fitting the compartments could only be evolved by goldsmiths working within the tradition in particular places, and it demanded a high level of skill from the artisans and a well-equipped goldsmith’s workshop.79 Some examples of this kind of jewellery consist not only of garnet, but also of colored glass. These craftsmen therefore needed experience not only in working with precious metals and cutting the stones, but also in glassmaking. For these items, one can suggest that there was cooperation between craftsmen from different fields. This cooperation between glassmakers, mosaicists, and jewellers (if they were ever so strictly divided in Late Antiquity) is probable, and some interesting facts speak in favour of the hypothesis. Cloisonné jewellery, at first sight, has a complex and “mosaic-like” surface that is, per Birgit Arrhenius, directly inspired by mosaics. Deep /red garnets and glass paste forming a homogeneous surface, without any stone or glass, played a central role.80 In my view, this comparison to the aesthetics of mosaics is not too convincing, but Arrhenius has managed to support her idea, from the perspective of material, through an analysis of the famous fibula of Desana (30/Ori). Even if it is slightly later than jewelleries analysed in the present text there is no reason to suppose any radical change in craft practice. For our purposes, the presence of manganese in the cement fastening the stones into the compartments is especially interesting. Manganese had never before been found in this “sand putty”, and although it is not a rare element, it is found at high concentrations only in the sand found along the River. In glass production, manganese was mainly used to obtain a colorless glass. The connection to glass production is very interesting, because the Desana brooch contains, apart from garnets, several glass plates. The same is true of the cloisonné items from Domagnano, (including the famous eagle brooch, which was chemically analyzed), as well as of the central plate of Five-Part Diptych, where mounted glass paste complements the natural garnets. The Desana brooch and the Domagnano items have been attributed to craftsmen working in Ostrogothic Italy, and come from a workshop with a close connection to glass production. According to Arrhenius, goldsmiths may have got sand putty from sand being used for the production of glass, and then mixed the sand with calcite. Arrhenius herself admits that in order to confirm this hypothesis, we need more samples of sand putty containing manganese.81

78 ARRHENIUS 2000, p. 214. 79 HORVATH 2012, p. 208. 80 ARRHENIUS 1985, p. 62; HORVATH 2012, p. 209. 81 ARRHENIUS 2010, pp. 295–296.

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Given that the primary production of glass took place in remote areas outside urban centres, far from the workshops, which produced glass objects, the use of identical materials by jewellers and glassmakers is unlikely. However, the use of manganese in the secondary production of glass in urban centres such as Ravenna (for purposes including – as I have tried to prove – discoloration of unwanted natural hues and subsequent staining) gives us reason to reflect on whether glassmakers and jewellers cooperated. In the same way, it is possible that goldsmiths and the mosaicists who produced gold tesserae (which was technically a very demanding process) also cooperated. The gold tesserae were produced by sealing very thin gold foil between two layers of transparent or colored glass. One layer thus formed the basis, the second served as protective film.82 Professional goldsmiths could have used their skill and experience working with gold foil to help mosaicists. In the chapter on glass production in Classe, the conditions favourable to cooperation between the various crafts were described in detail. Individual analyses of archaeological material, carried out by Arrhenius, add weight to my hypothesis. The co-existence of the cloisonné technique (which was widespread throughout Europe and the Middle East in the fifth century) with ivory carvings on the Five-Part Diptych, an item associated with the artistic milieu of Ravenna, could be further evidence of cooperation between individual crafts, whether on the material, personal, or stylistic level. We have considered the practical requirements of production, and now it is necessary to reconsider the historical circumstances under which this jewellery could have been made. This may help us towards a more comprehensive understanding of Ravenna in the period immediately preceding the so-called “fall” of the . To this end, it will be important to look at arms and accessories for members of the aristocratic military class, since these items reflect the dialogue between the Roman Empire and other regions under its political control. Scholars have interpreted the typological and stylistic similarity of these items as the result of diplomatic relations between the Roman Empire and the elite, aristocratic, military class of the Barbarian tribes, who derived their own authority, power, and legitimacy from Rome.83

Relations to Rome

The cloisonné technique was used to decorate personal jewellery as well as objects designed to demonstrate the high status of their owners. There are sword pommels, ornamental belts, torcs and double garment or belt clasps, officer’s belt buckles, silver and glass vessels, as well as numerous appliqués and fittings. All these prestigious objects seem to have been produced for public display: during the fourth century, they were probably

82 FARNETI 1993, p. 71. 83 More on contacts and exchange between the individual European tribes with the Roman Empire in BURSCHKE 2008.

117 awarded as symbols of high position within the civil or military service of the Roman Empire, and they clearly testify to the privileged position of the deceased and his role in public life.84 In the fifth century, it was Germanic chieftains who largely benefited from the Roman strategy of avoiding military conflicts. According to written sources, the imperial government sent, in the fifth century, more than 100,000 pounds of gold to “barbarian” tribes that threatened the Empire.85 These “barbaric” chieftains occasionally acquired the status of Roman officials. If any of them received such an honor, they were also granted the right to wear a fibula, an object found in all the tombs studied [Fig. 79].86 A golden fibula clasped the paludamentum on the right shoulder of high civilian and military officials in the Roman Empire, as documented by mosaics in the in Ravenna, in the Basilica of Saints Cosmas and Damian in Rome [Fig. 80] and on Diptych of Stilicho [Fig. 81]. It has been suggested that these fibulae were gifted by the Emperor, and that they were produced in the imperial workshops. It is, nonetheless, possible that it was not the fibula itself that was given, but only the right to wear it. This right could have been accompanied by material from which the fibula could be subsequently produced. It was then up to the recipient how much money to spend on the item.87 In the case of Childeric, the high military and administrative functions he exercised for Rome are also shown by the gold signet ring engraved with the name, title, and bust of the king [Fig. 82]. Childeric is represented here with a fibula on his chlamys. Since the chlamys was not a usual garment for members of Germanic tribes, it is possible that the fibula (or the right to wear it) and the chlamys were given together, as a unit.88 It is therefore not possible to say with certainty whether the fibulae found in these tombs are imperial gifts to barbarian leaders, or barbarian imitations of imperial models.89 In any case, these articles demonstrate that their owners played a certain role in Roman administrative and military control over the population in the areas where they acted.

Diplomacy

Insight into the Roman diplomatic practice of sending gifts to military allies in the mid- fifth century is provided by Roman envoy Priscus. Priscus accompanied Maximin, head of the Byzantine diplomatic corps of Emperor Theodosius the Younger, on a diplomatic mission to ’s court between 448 and 449.90 Priscus mentions several gifts sent directly to the Emperor and treats them as bribes or as expressions of gratitude or apology. Priscus’ testimony shows that the recognized that political games could be more lucrative than

84 ADAMS 2000, p. 26. 85 More in ILUK 1985; DEPPERT-LIPPITZ 2000, p. 66. 86 DEPPERT-LIPPITZ 2000, p. 67. 87 Ibidem. 88 ARRHENIUS 1998, p. 110. 89 ADAMS 2000, p. 29. 90 Priscus, History of Byzantium, e.g. pp. 247, 275, 263.

118 any particular military action, and that the threat of war could be worth more than any booty they would obtain through active attack. Apart from revealing the function of such gifts, Priscus gives us testimony that eloquently describes Germanic fashion and taste:

“Attila’s servant entered first bearing a plate full of meat, and after him those who were serving us placed bread and cooked foods on the tables. While for the other barbarians and for us there were lavishly prepared dishes served on silver platters, for Attila there was only meat on a wooden plate. He showed himself temperate in other ways also. For golden and silver goblets were handed to the ment at the feast, whereas his was of wood. His clothing was plain and differed not at all from that of the rest, except that it was clean. Neither the sword that hung from his side nor the fastenings of his barbarian boots nor his horse’s bridle was adorned, like those of the other Scythians, with gold or precious stones or anything else of value.”91

Priscus’s description of “the other Scythians” reminds us of clothing accessories associated with the first half of the fifth century. Those found in the tombs under study are decorated swords, boot buckles, the ends of belts, and components of harnesses. Late Antique images leave no doubt that weapons and accessories were decorated with precious stones. We can mention, for example, the scabbards depicted on the statues of the Four Tetrarchs now in [Fig. 83], or the sword depicted on the Stilicho diptych [Fig. 81]. On a post-Constantinian porphyry statue of a high-ranking military officer in Torino, the long belt ends are depicted as set with alternating rhomboid and circular gemstones.92 All these depictions serve as evidence of the Roman taste for bejewelled military accessories. By analysing written sources, John Iluk found four purposes for which fifth-century Roman rulers gave gifts to barbarian allies. First, to buy military alliance with tribal leaders. Second, to protect the Empire from invasion. Third, to put pro-Roman candidates on barbarian thrones, and fourth, to ransom prisoners of war.93 These bribes were not exclusive to the last years of the Western Empire, but one could say that in the fifth century, when it was diplomacy rather than the army, which protected the borders of the Roman Empire, such bribes took on greater importance.94 Several indications suggest that these payments were made in gold coins, which were then melted down and used for making jewellery.95

91 Priscus, History of Byzantium, p. 285 (Greek original on p. 284). 92 ADAMS 2000, p. 38. More about arms decorated with precious stones in MENGHIN 2000. 93 ILUK 1985, p. 82. 94 Ibidem, p. 84. 95 ILUK 1985, pp. 84, 99; DEPEYROT 2009, p. 14. Proof of this practice are finds from Scandinavia from the fifth and sixth centuries. The most interesting are examples of the so called C-series (bracteates with a man’s head set over a horse’s body) with runic inscriptions. One bracteate found together with solidi of Theodosius II document from what gold it was made. In Stenberg’s translation, this inscription says: Hjaldschrieb für Kunimund die Runen auf dem welschen Korn. Stenberg translated the last words of the sentence: “auf dem römischen Gold”. If the author’s suggestion is correct, his suppositions about the wanderings of solidi around Europe and his comments about their use as a raw material for jewellers are the richer for this very significant piece of historic-linguistic evidence. (Cit. in ILUK 1985, p. 101).

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Ravenna: Centre of Production?

There has been a general tendency among scholars to ascribe most of this jewellery to the ateliers of Constantinople, and especially to the imperial workshops. The hypothesis that there was a central workshop attached to the imperial court in Constantinople was introduced to scholarly debate by Birgit Arrhenius. The author bases her hypothesis primarily on investigation of technological processes and on chemical analysis of cements.96 According to Arrhenius, goldsmiths had to know the recipe for the cement, which affixed the stones to the jewellery. According to Arrhenius, before the sixth century this recipe was known only in Egypt, i.e. in part of the Eastern Empire. Based on this fact, she postulates a “central workshop of Constantinople”.97 Some of the weapons found, like Childeric’s short scramasaxe, as well as similar weapons belonging to noblemen from Apahida, Pouan and Blučina, are all considered to be of Byzantine-Sassanid origin.98 And the presence in some tombs of gold coins originating in the Eastern Empire could be a further argument for the eastern origin of other items found along with them.99 It seems, however, that there are many more arguments against Eastern provenance. We know that analogous objects, made with the cloisonné technique, appear with the and , whose politics were openly anti-Byzantine.100 The presence of eastern gold coins in Childeric’s grave is not a convincing argument in any way; the fifth-century treasures found in Italy also contained many Byzantine coins, so this can only prove that such coins circulated widely in the West. The same is true for the weapons mentioned. It is also necessary to mention the fact that tradition of working slices of garnets into consistent sizes and patterns pre-dates the establishment of Constantinople as the seat of the Emperor. And finally, the existence of independent goldsmiths, i.e. goldsmiths who were not necessarily connected to the imperial court, is confirmed by an edict of Emperor stipulating that imperial ornaments could be manufactured only at the palace. The necessity of such regulation reveals that, at least up to the sixth century, jewellery so embellished did not have to originate in an imperial atelier.101 Nothing proves the Byzantine origin of the goods in Childeric’s, or of those from the graves in Apahida, Pouan, or Blučina-Cezavy. On the contrary, Patrick Périn and Michel Kazanski propose that the workshop that created the decor of Childeric’s objects was in the western Mediterranean, specifically in Italy. The authors place this hypothetical workshop in Ravenna, the residence of the Ostrogothic court. They work from written evidence provided by of Tours, who tells of the alliance of Odoacer, king of the , with

96 ARRHENIUS 1985; Eadem 2000, p. 224; Eadem 1985, pp. 62–70, 100–112. 97 Eadem 1985, pp. 96ff. On pp. 115–118 Arrhenius mentions the Five-part Diptych and proposes a Constantinopolitan origin for it, although she notes that the carved panels certainly belong to the nothern Italian tradition. 98 Ibidem. 99 CALLIGARO 2000, n. 37, pp. 206–209; KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2007. 100 ARRHENIUS 1985, p. 83. 101 DEPPERT-LIPPITZ 2000, p. 75.

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Childeric.102 In 2011, Marco Aimone tried to give further support to the hypothesis.103 The existence of a highly skilled workshop in Ravenna under the Ostrogoths, and its contacts with the Frankish Childeric, was proved by Patrik Périn and Michel Kazanski, and an analysis of Childeric’s written sources, conducted by Stephane Lebecq in 2002, documents such relations in the period before Odoacer’s invasion (476), i.e. the period when Ravenna still served as the sedes imperii of the Western Roman Emperors.104 The Frankish historian Fredegar († 660) described the sending of priceless gifts by the Emperor (457–461), whose reign is characterised by a great effort to stabilise the empire. Majorian rewarded a loyal ally in the critical period after the re-assertion of Roman dominion in Gaul, i.e. in 460, when the imperial government of the West made a final intervention across the Alps.105 This presumed connection between the Roman general , friend and supporter of the emperor Majorian, and Childeric, could mean that the general took treasure from the Emperor to spread among his Germanic allies. A fibula, as well as other jewellery, could have been given to Childeric as official recognition of his military actions against other Germanic armies.106 Similar diplomatic contacts and sending of gifts are also postulated, and for the same period, between the Western Empire and the leader of the East Germanic tribe of the Gepids, Omharus, who is buried in the royal grave in Apahida. A revolt led by the Gepids effectively ended Hunnic domination of the Germanic tribes of Central and Eastern Europe (454–455), and the Gepids became close allies of the Eastern Roman Empire for the rest of the fifth century.107 Gloriosissimus is inscribed on Omhar’s ring, a title received also by Childeric. Majorian obviously tried to restore Roman rule by taking advantage of the support of capable generals, thus achieving the military successes.108 Is it possible, from a technological point of view that the high-quality jewellery under study was made in Ravenna, as proposed by Patrick Périn and Michel Kazanski? Mark Ščukin and Igor Bažan tried to define the conditions necessary for producing jewellery in the cloisonné style. Let us now test these conditions to see if they fit a hypothetical Ravennate goldsmith’s workshop: First, the area must either have garnet deposits or easy access to them.109 It is important to note that availability does not necessarily depend on proximity to garnet deposits, but rather on the wealth of the area and the ability to obtain the raw material. Trade in garnets was firmly anchored in the shared tradition of stone and jewellery technology. The presence of cloisonné objects in places as far apart as Bactria, , Roman Syria, the Caucasus, and suggests that a stable supply of garnets from the East, along the main

102 KAZANSKI/PÉRIN 2000, p. 83. See also COLONNA 2000. 103 AIMONE 2011, pp. 483ff. 104 LEBECQ 2002. 105 LEBECQ 2002. 106 ARRHENIUS 2000, p. 216. 107 More in KOCH 2000, p. 62. 108 AIMONE 2011, p. 483. 109 BAŽAN/ŠČUKIN 1990, p. 6, in ADAMS 2000, p. 15.

121 trade routes, enabled the popularity of this jewellery.110 Once garnets were easily available, advanced technology was necessary for grinding and polishing them. While individual plates could be transported in semi-finished state,111 the skillful shaping of the pieces to be placed in the gold compartments required the skills of artists with permanent access to materials, preferably in a stable workshop environment.112 Any such place, therefore, had to be home to a well-established tradition of stone cutting and jewellery production.113 The main urban centres on important trade routes, like Ravenna with its port of Classe, played a key role in the production and distribution of cloisonné jewellery. Indeed, trade and artistic tradition in urban centres were two preconditions for the development of this technology.114 Arrhenius equated the method of producing cloisonné jewellery with the technique for producing mosaics, and suggested that jewellery had to be made in a place with a strong tradition of, and experience with, mosaic technique.115 In the chapter dealing with autonomous production of glass in Classe, I tried to prove that the production of mosaics is another feature of Ravenna’s artistic milieu. It is certain that Ravenna was home to a social class, which could afford to buy jewellery decorated in the cloisonné technique. These jewels are present on the clothes of imperial courtiers or on rich liturgical objects, but we have no evidence that they would have been normal for other social classes. Gold covered with precious stones has generally been associated with high status, whether the articles were officially sponsored or intended only for private use. These objects were worked in the current vocabulary of patterns, easily identifiable by any high-status social group within the Empire.116 It is clear that Ravenna meets all of these prerequisites for the existence of a workshop producing jewellery made with the cloisonné technique. When taken together with the historical data, an analysis of these technical and stylistic factors leads us to posit the existence of a workshop producing high-quality works, active in the second half of the fifth century and associated with the imperial court in the West. It would have been located in Italy, probably in Ravenna. It produced the jewellery sent as diplomatic gifts to Childeric and to the leader of the Germanic tribe settled in Apahida, and probably to the princes buried in the tombs in Pouan and Blučina-Cezavy. An alternate hypothesis could be that Ravenna served only as an interchange station for rare garnets that were sent to other places, perhaps already sliced, and mounted on the jewellery in situ; the diplomatic value of the gift would not have been lessened. Even in this latter case, however, the craftsmen probably would have been migrant Roman goldsmiths, perhaps formerly in imperial service. This art was firmly rooted in the Roman tradition of cutting precious stones, and those capable of exercising it had to come from urban

110 ADAMS 2000, p. 15. 111 More on precut geometric garnet plates traded in the Late Antique period in ADAMS 2000, p. 35; ARRHENIUS 2000, p. 224ff. 112 For discussion on this topic see: ARRHENIUS 1985, pp. 57, 96–97; cfr. ADAMS 1991, pp. 49–56. 113 ADAMS 2000, p. 15. 114 Ibidem, p. 17. 115 ARRHENIUS 1985, pp. 45–60. 116 ADAMS 2000, p. 38.

122 centres where this tradition was firmly established.117 The previous studies have suggested that these jewels were made in a central workshop. But the enormous popularity of garnet cloisonné, the distribution of semi-finished products, and the increased need for diplomatic gifts in the fifth century all make it harder to think that one workshop made everything. The problem gains its complexity if we consider not just how the artefacts moved, but how craftsmen moved. Migrant goldsmiths, representatives of foreign goldsmith tradition, could produce “local” artefacts anywhere there was a market for them. Given the current state of knowledge of the technical properties of these objects, we can trace goldsmithing traditions and workshop practices, but not precise places of production. In the future, further progress may be facilitated by analysing raw materials; their use and distribution were based on the natural resources of a region and on transport facilities. However, as Eszter Horvath points out, we rarely have sufficient information about the technological and physical characteristics of these objects.118 In addition, any map of the distribution of these precious objects is, in a sense, a very distorted. It may tell us about social habits, prevailing economic and political conditions, or trade routes, but it will not necessarily say much about primary production itself.119 Ravenna, in my opinion, was not an exclusive centre for the manufacture of these jewels. Jewellers in various urban centres, and those who temporarily established workshops beyond the borders of the Empire, tried to imitate what must have been perceived as “high style”. We have no archaeological evidence from the cities of the Empire, but we have many reasons for thinking that the broad distribution of these jewels was due to their popularity among both Roman and barbarian patrons.120 Similar design is not necessarily a sign that these objects were made in the same workshop, but it is a sign that equally skilled craftsmen, working in the same tradition, made both pieces. The Five-Part Diptych, whose carvings belong to the artistic environment of fifth-century Ravenna, is evidence that these jewels were produced right in Ravenna, but I also think that the port of Classe could have served as a centre for the redistribution of raw materials used by jewelers. Ravenna was probably one of the many places where Roman goldsmiths produced jewellery of this type, fulfilling commissions from the Emperor and the Roman aristocracy settled in Ravenna. Jewels could also be sent from these workshops to the places where their products were demanded. Last of all, we must consider why the lamb on the Five-Part Diptych differs so much in style from the jewellery found in graves. The almost illusionistic conception of the curled tufts of the Milan lamb’s wool, made of rounded stones, are in stark contrast to the geometric and

117 This is a hypothesis promoted by Birgit Arrhenius. She supports it with examples from Roman Pannonia, where the garnets are simple in their shape, lacking the sophistication of the finds from Apahida and Tournai. Arrhenius assumes that these objects were produced in different workshops, but certainly in Roman ones. E.g. in Roman Aquincum near , the production of Roman gems and intaglios is documented, and under these conditions a workshop producing garnet cloisonné could exist, maybe for a limited time (ARRHENIUS 2000, p. 217). 118 HORVÁTH 2012, p. 216–217. 119 ADAMS 2000, p. 14. 120 Idem 2000, p. 49.

123 flat style of the objects found in Belgium and Romania. Marco Aimone explains this difference by positing the existence of a second workshop in the imperial city – highly specialized, but not necessarily linked to the imperial court. This workshop, according to Aimone, worked with the same technique, but in a different style.121 In fact, we know nothing about how many goldsmiths could survive in a given location, and without other evidence, this suggestion is nothing but a hypothesis. However, it is likely that goldsmiths, ivory carvers, and other workshops in major centres worked on the principles of what would now be called the “free market”,122 where orders could come from the Emperor, bishop, or high functionaries, as well as from private individuals. In my view, this fundamental difference in style may not necessarily be the product of a different workshop. I would suggest that the difference could reflect the nature of the commission, and that the overall aesthetic effect could be a result of what the purchaser wanted. I find it logical that for the Frankish king and the Germanic leader, jewellery would be ordered which corresponded to a kind of “military” aesthetic, i.e. geometrical and square, and that for the liturgical needs of the Roman Empire, something in the tradition of Western imagery could be commissioned. The question of the models used by craftsmen – models that could affect the style of the end result – is also worth considering, as we see in the work of .123

Summary

The combination of ivory carving and cloisonné work in the Five-Part Diptych from Milan has led us beyond the boundaries of the Roman Empire, to other places where jewellery made with the same technique has been found. Written sources documenting contacts between allies – the Western imperial court on one hand, and the Frankish king or the leader of the east-Germanic tribe of the Gepids on the other, as well as recent archaeological research on the finds detailed above, suggest the possible existence of a studio producing cloisonné jewellery of the highest quality, situated within the territory of Italy, probably in Ravenna. Ravenna as sedes imperii of the Western Roman emperors meets all the conditions for the production of this type of jewellery. It was the residence of the emperor Majorian (457–461) as well as of Ostrogothic King Odoacer, both mentioned in the above- mentioned written sources. The Five-Part Diptych probably comes from Emperor Maiorian's reign,124 a fact, which contributes to the debate if we allow the Ravennate hypothesis to be supported by objects in artistic media other than jewellery. The style and iconography of this ivory carving corresponds to the stylistic and religious-political milieu of the third quarter of the fifth century and vice versa: the techniques used for the central panel of the Five-Part

121 AIMONE 2011, pp. 486–487. 122 ARRHENIUS 1985, pp. 17–18, 120–126. 123 KITZINGER 1977. 124 FRANTOVÁ 2014/1.

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Diptych can be used as a relatively solid foothold for dating not only the diptych, but also other ivory artefacts that still await detailed study.

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Part two: Changes of Authorities

In the first part of this work, we looked at art produced at and for Ravenna within the global context of craft practice and logistics throughout the Roman Empire. Even if I, hopefully, have shown in several cases that knowledge of material aspects and organization of craft production is crucial for understanding Ravenna’s artistic production, it cannot be, of course, self-explanatory and traditional tools of art historical field have to be employed. However, as the first part of this work, also the second one does not focus only on Ravenna and does not aim only to describe the historical events taking place there in the studied period or to provide Ravenna’s studies with new iconological interpretations of its monuments. I also want here to perceive and present Ravenna as part of the Roman world where politics and religion provided further instances of the interactions of late antique cities. The city of Ravenna will be studied as one of many players in the political and religious games and not as an isolated phenomenon. Only through an understanding of the political aims of the patrons will it be possible to fully understand the choice of specific ground plans for buildings, the saints to whom they were dedicated, the “taste” of patrons, the iconography of church decorations, or the moveable artefacts that furnished them. The considerable space that will be devoted to general history here is justified by my conviction that the recent results of historical studies which reconsider events in the cities throughout the whole Roman Empire has facilitated the study of transnational or transcultural circulations and thus opened many aspects of the standard narrative of Ravenna’s art history to challenge.1 Against this new background, we can refine earlier views of those monuments and add depth to the interpretations, which are gaining currency today. In the fifth century, the western part of Empire faced disasters of various kinds. These had to be faced, but also presented opportunities for ecclesiastical and secular rulers. Crises in social structure, population displacement, natural disasters, doctrinal disputes and wars required responses from bishops and Emperors.2 The present text follows the traditional chronological division of the fifth-century Ravenna into the reigns of individual rulers. This is not for the sake of convenience, but rather because we will be examining the intentions of individual rulers and their reactions to the aforementioned crises, as well as how these reactions influenced their artistic patronage. Thus we will see how artistic production was determined by the political and ecclesiastical events taking place throughout both halves of the Roman Empire, and then, from the opposite standpoint, how these events are reflected in

1 E.g. GILLET 2001; HUMPHRIES 2003; McEVOY 2010 HUMPHRIES 2012; McEVOY 2013/2. 2 On the bishop’s role in solving the crises, see NEIL 2012.

127 works of art. We will see whether, in the words of Richard Krautheimer (as mentioned in the introductory chapter of this work), their interweaving is mirrored by the visual evidence.3 Before we proceed to examine these three periods of Ravenna’s history, the role it held in the era preceding the transfer of the imperial court in 402 has to be outlined. It cannot be entirely accepted that Ravenna was “(…) a blank slate on which a new Christian capital could be built”, as Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis sees it.4 The author suggests that Ravenna “may have been rather like Byzantium before Constantine transformed it”.5 Even if the author’s assumption is based on archaeological finds which present Ravenna to us as one of the cities touched to a large extent by the crisis of the third and fourth centuries,6 it would be misleading to imagine it as an entirely deserted and insignificant place. We cannot omit the previous urban infrastructure of the city, its status of a provincial metropolis and its importance within the process of the Christianisation of Northern Italy. In general, the important role of bishops in the topography of the late antique cities as well as the importance of Christian communities employed in the embellishment of their churches are another aspects which allow us to see Ravenna as part of the urban and economical development of the whole North Italian region in the fourth century.

Ravenna’s Beginnings

The oldest archaeological evidences found in Ravenna dates back to the sixth or fifth centuries BC to the Etruscan era. Massimiliano David suggests that at least the name is of Etruscan origin and few archaeological finds support this assumption.7 The more numerous archaeological evidence for a settlement at Ravenna dates back to the second half of the third century BC. The archaeologists assumed this dating based on pottery found on the site of the eastern, southern and western walls of the city core, the so-called Ravenna quadrata [Fig. 84].8 The other archaeological finds from the oldest period come from the site of Via D’Azeglio where a drainage system on wooden piles and the bricks from the same period as those used for the city walls were revealed.9 On the same archaeological site the only building from the republican period (second century BC), an atrium house with polychrome mosaics, was identified.10 We are much more informed about the development of Ravenna since the first century AD. At that time the earliest city walls were partially in ruins as it was throughout

3 KRAUTHEIMER 1983, p. 5. 4 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 48 5 Ibidem. 6 E.g. MANZELLI 2000, pp. 238–241. 7 The author supposes it due to the suffix –enna, as Caesena, Sassina and Felsina (DAVID 2013/1, pp. 23–24). 8 JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 51. 9 MANZELLI 2001, p. 66. 10 Ibidem, pp. 69–70.

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Italy which is traditionally interpreted as a sign of peace in the Roman Empire.11 In AD 42 a triumphal arch in honour of the emperor was built on the south side of the oppidum. It connected the harbour with the city centre and it was later known as the Porta Aurea.12 Imperial Ravenna probably had public buildings such as , capitolium, praetorium, temples, markets, piazzas, amphitheatre and circus, all that was “typical” for other Roman cities of this time.13 The remains of the houses of the republican and early imperial periods found at the Banca Popolare site, Via D’Azeglio, Santa Croce and the “Palace of Theodoric” testify to a high standard of living.14 An aqueduct was built probably by the emperor between 98– 117 AD and its remains were found 25 km to the southwest, which followed the course of the River Ronco toward Ravenna and Classe.15 We have much less archaeological evidence from the republican naval base at Classe, established by Octavian (63 BC–19 AD) as a station for the Roman fleet for the eastern Mediterranean.16 A channel led from the Adriatic into the harbour where the fossa Augusta entered from the north. The artificial channel fossa Augusta going from the Po to the Adriatic connected the city with the navigational system of northern Italy and played an important role in the distribution of goods as well as in protection of the city against floods.17 The so-called via Caesaris is another work of great importance realized during the Augustan age. The infrastructure probably guaranteed connections between the fossa Augusta outlet and Classe for centuries [Fig. 3].18 A structure of high status was revealed by archaeologists on the site of the later church San Severo, dated back to the second century with rooms, glass windows and mosaic pavements.19 The third century is described as a period of crisis throughout the Roman Empire caused by threats of enemies, internal instability and epidemics.20 We do not know the exact impact of these crises on the cities, nonetheless in Ravenna archaeologists stated, as in the case of many other cities, there was a depopulation after the mid-third century; many of the houses were abandoned, burnt down, fell into disrepair or were adapted for other functions.21 Even if there are few places where activity continued in the fourth century, such as the site of the “House of the Floral Threshold” or the place called “Palace of Theoderic”,22 Valentina

11 MANZELLI 2000, p. 50. 12 The arch was destroyed in 1582 but we know its appearance from Renaissance drawings e.g. from Giovanni Battista da Sangallo (1st half of the 16th century). See in JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 25, fig. 9. More about Porta Aurea see ibidem pp. 52–55. 13 MANZELLI 2000, pp. 104–105; 206–7. See also JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 55 and eadem 2013/2, p. 291 for later written sources describing the lost monuments. 14 GALETTI 2005. 15 ANTONIAZZI/PRATI 1988, pp. 32–34. 16 For the port of Classe see pp. 45–49 of this work. 17 CIRELLI 2008, pp. 19–20; DAVID 2013/1, p. 30. See more on the port of Classe on pp. 45–49 of this work. 18 David 2013/1, p. 32. 19 MAIOLI 1992, pp. 502-511; AUGENTI 2009. 20 For the situation in the third century in the Roman Empire, see most comprehensively HEKSTER 2008. 21 CIRELLI 2008, pp. 52–54. 22 “House of the Floral Threshold” burned in the third century and then was partially reused in the fourth century by an elaborate private bath complex with floor mosaics. The place called as “Palace of Theoderic” was originaly a Roman villa rebuilt in either the fourth or the early fifth century – the building would probably

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Manzelli sees Ravenna as a city made up almost entirely of ruins by the later fourth century.23 According to Enrico Cirelli, the most probable hypothesis is that the the burnt layers found in the stratigraphy from the period preceding the fifth century relate to the incapacity of public administration for the maintenance and requalification of the common and private areas in traumatic or even ordinary events.24 In the late fourth century urban life seems to have at least partly shifted to Classe even if the urban character was given to the site with the construction of the walls in the early fifth century. Caesarea, the area between Ravenna and Classe, also established itself as a new settlement area in this context.25 The fleet in Classe lost its title of praetoria after the reorganization probably conducted by Constantine. The Emperor wanted to create a new system with more fleets, especially on the East, which should have been more advantageous for local defence.26 Even if the fleet did not entirely disappear from Classe, Ravenna ceased to be only a naval base and its trading aspect came into the foreground, which even increased with the arrival of Emperor Honorius’ court in 402.27 In addition, Classe became a focus of the earliest Christian community.28

Ravenna and Christianization of Northern Italy

At Ravenna (respectively at Classe) as well as at other port cities as , , Trieste, Porec, , or , the earliest evidence for Christianity occurs within a trading context at the harbours. According to Mark Humphries and Carola Jäggi, the social and cultural profiles of certain Christian ethnically mixed groups suggest that they were linked with the migratory trading populations of north Italian cities.29 The trading activity of the port and its previous important role as a naval base made Classe an important conglomeration of foreigners and thus a place with great conditions for spreading a new religion. It is not possible to establish the chronology of the early bishops of Ravenna. Agnellus started his Liber pontificalis with bishop Apollinaris, a disciple of St. Peter martyred during the reign of Emperor (69–70).30 Nonetheless he based his assumption on the text known as Passio sancti Apollinaris which probably dates back to the seventh century and is therefore of not very reliable historical relevance for the early period.31 We cannot follow the

represent the residence of the provincial governor or military commander (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 37 with bibliography). 23 MANZELLI 2000, pp. 238–241. 24 CIRELLI 2010, p. 240. 25 JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 55. 26 CARLÀ 2010, p. 218. 27See pp. 45–49 of this work. 28 For Christian communities in northern Italy and patterns of dissemination, see HUMPHRIES 1999, pp. 72– 106. 29 HUMPHRIES 1999, pp. 72–106; JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 59–60. 30 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 1. 31 For the dating of the text see Picard 1988, p. 659 who states that Passio “a sans doute été rédigée à l’époque de l’archevêque Maurus (664-673) pour être jointe [...] au dossier qui fut présenté à l’empereur Constant II pour

130 list of bishops Angellus created in his Liber pontificialis, because probably, some of them were invented in the sixth century or by Agnellus himself.32 The archaeological evidence in Classe do not prove an apostolic origin either, nonetheless the burials document that the focus of Christian communities was intended really to Classe and not to Ravenna itself and witness the pre-constantinian Christian community based there.33 Historically, there is no reliable account of Agnellus’ mention of the churches of the first bishops (the basilica of blessed Euphemia which is called ad Arietem where Apollinaris should have performed baptism34 or the other two churches built in honour of the early bishops, St. Probus and St. Eleuchadius35). The first bishop of Ravenna attested in the written sources is Severus who is listed among the bishops present at the Council of Sardica in 343.36 How many Christians lived in Ravenna at that time, in the middle fourth century, is difficult to say: among the numerous Ravenna’s gravestones between the second and fourth centuries, there are only a few which could be interpreted as Christian. As Carola Jäggi points out, we cannot be sure in any of the cases because the motifs of the decoration could be shared both by Christians and pagans.37 In any case it can be assumed that Ravenna as well as Aquileia, Padua, and Milan was a city where the structured Christian communities can be traced at least very soon after Milan’s edict.38 The construction of episcopal complexes and churches which were a common feature in north Italy between 350 and 450 are evidence of the increasing prestige of the bishop and increasing conversion of the members of local elites. In Aquileia a bishopric complex was built already in the 310s39 and also Milan’s complex could have been founded in the first decades of the fourth century.40 In Milan, Aquileia, Ravenna as well as in other cities of Italy, Spain or Gaul the bishopric complex was located within the city walls,41 but its position in the city differed depending on the urban arrangement and on the generosity of the patron by

obtenir le privilège accordant l’autocéphalie à l’Eglise de Ravenne en 666”. See also DELIYANNIS 2006, pp. 39–41; JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 59. 32 JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 59. For the most recent on the cult of St. Apollinaris, see FILIPOVÁ 2015 with previous bibliography and Eadem 2017/2, pp. 182–183. 33 JÄGGI 2013/1, P. 59–60. 34 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR ch. 1. 35 Ibidem, ch. 3, p. 105, ch. 4, p. 105 and ch. 8, pp. 107–108. 36 DELIYANNIS 2016, p. 41. 37 JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 59; fig. 24 on p. 58. 38 HUMPHRIES 1999; CRACCO RUGGINI 2002; MARANO 2012/2, p. 161. 39 The complex in Aquilea is situated in south-eastern sector of the city, close to the harbor and the monumental gate and it consisted of the main rectangular halls arranged in the form “U” and connected to smaller rooms, including baptistery and the bishop’s residence. In the second half of the fourth century, the complex was transformed by the construction of a three-aisled basilica with a colonnaded atrium on its façade and an episcopal residence (MARANO 2012/2, p. 162–165 with previous bibliography). 40 Our knowledge of the earliest complex is based almost exclusively on the remains of the baptistery of Santo Stefano alle Fonti. It underwent a similar monumentalisation as in Aquileia (n. 42). In the mid- fourth century a huge church, Basilica Nova, was built. It might have been built by Auxentius (355–374), the Arian predecessor of Ambrose, who completed it. An octagonal baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti was built also by Ambrose (MARANO 2012/2, p. 163–165 with previous bibliography). More about the Milan’s episcopal complex in LUSUARDI 1997. 41 CANTINTO WATAGHIN 2003, pp. 226-230.

131 rendering the plot of the building where the church could be built. The remains of private houses under Christian churches can be interpreted as testimony of such gifts.42 The location of Episcopal Churches within the urban fabric did not follow any specific rule either. They could be centrally placed, or at the edge of the town, close to the walls or in an intermediate position.43 The site chosen for the foundation of the Episcopal Church in Ravenna was a large public square, perhaps a market, at the junction of the two major watercourses crossing Ravenna, Padenna and the fossa Lamisa.44 The foundation of the first Episcopal Church dates to the late fourth or to the early fifth century and is attributed to bishop Ursus who, in Andreas Agnellus’ words, “first began to construct a temple to God here, so that the Christian populace, which was scattered in separate dwellings, might be collected by that most dutiful shepherd into one flock.”45 The cathedral of Ravenna, known as Basilica Ursiana (with an original dedication to the Anastasis), was demolished in 1733, but we know its appearance from later drawings and descriptions. The original construction consisted of a main nave and of two lateral aisles ended with a semi-circle in the interior and polygonal on the exterior apse which was crowned with a half dome made of tubi fittili.46 The basilica was the core of the episcopal quarter where also an episcopal residence and octagonal baptistery, largely rebuilt and redecorated later under the pontificate of bishop Neon in the mid-fifth century, were situated. 47 The early episcopal center of Ravena was similar in form and arrangement to that of Milan. Milan’s Baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti has not survived, but foundations uncovered by archaeologists in 1961–1962 show an octagonal ground plan with alternating semi-circular and rectangular niches, just like in Ravenna [Figs 21, 22].48 Milan’s baptistery served as a model not just in Ravenna, but for other fifth- and sixth-century in northern Italy, Provence, and central Gaul.49 Let me mention, for example, the baptistery in [Fig. 85], where the main niche opposite the entrance preserves its original mosaic decoration, including an inscription documenting the presence of (“Here are the relics of Steven, John the Evangelist, Lawrence, Nabor, and Felix”) [Fig. 86].50 The mosaic is from the second half of the fifth or the

42 MARANO 2012/2, p. 163–164. 43 MARANO 2012/2, p. 180. 44 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 42, fig. 7. 45 “Iste [Ursus] primus hic initiavit tenplum construere Dei, ut plebes christianorum, quae in singulis teguriis vagabat, in unum ovile piissimus collegeret pastor.” (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 23. English translation from DELIYANNIS 2003, p. 118). 46 DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 1–45; NOVARA 1997; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 85–88; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 60– 65. 47 For the development of the Archiepiscopal Residence in Ravenna, see MILLER 1997. For the reconstruction of the Orthodox Baptistery, see pp. 183–186 of this work. 48 For the baptistery in Milan see especially FIENI 1998. For the circulation of the architectural model see more in FILIPOVÁ 2014. 49 Ibidem, pp. 53–55. 50 “NAMUS QUORUM HIC RELIQUIAE SUNT STEFANI S.IOHANNIS LAURENTI NAVORIS PROTASI EVANGEL- FELICIS GERVASI” (Transcription in FILIPOVÁ 2014, p. 72 and Eadem 2017, p. 80).

132 beginning of the sixth century,51 and according to Carlo Bertelli, both the relics and the image show a connection with Milan. For Bertelli, the central chrismon on a field composed of three expanding rings of successively darker color, each of which contains an alpha and omega, is unusual, and he proposes a decoration of Ambrose’s (lost) baptistery in Milan as its model.52 The building’s overall architectural form, the columns in the corners of the octagon, the baptismal font, the Milanese relics, and the similarity of the mosaic decoration link the baptistery in Albenga with the baptistery in Milan on many levels. The same can be said of the buildings in Novara, Como, and Vicenza. Due to the research of Alžběta Filipová, we know that Milanese relics and religious practice reached all these places.53 This conscious imitation by bishop of Ravenna must be understood in the context of the formation of the autonomous Ravenna’s Church. Milanese relics were probably brought to Ravenna very early, and when Ravenna became later a metropolis and therefore needed a martyr of its own, he was found in the person of the legendary military martyr St. Vitalis, father of , those very “Milanese” saints as we shall see.54 The question if the cathedral with its adjacent baptistery were constructed before the Emperor’s arrival55 or if it was consequence of the year 40256 has not yet been definitively answered. As mentioned above, for Agnellus, it was built by bishop Ursus, but the episcopate of the bishop of this name has not been pinned down. It was either 370–396 or 405–431 and there are good arguments for both the dates.57 Nonetheless, with the status of Ravenna as provincial capital with its bishop,58 the Christian community in Classe, which as other Christian communities over the whole of Italy were evolved in the embellishment of their churches and the general building activity in the Italian cities in the last quarter of the fourth century, could easily justify the existence of such a church before the movement of the court. It also testifies to the important and autonomous role of bishop in the city since, as Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis noted, a freestanding octagonal building is a striking addition to the city’s landscape so the bishop’s role in the Christian community thus became visually accentuated.59 The bishops of the cities were elected by laymen from the members of middle-lower class to whom the Christianity offered a possibility of a career in the expanding hierarchy. As bishops they could continue to serve inhabitants of the city either of their own or of someone else.60 The bishops were seen as natural leaders especially in times of crisis. It gained in

51 MARCENARO 1993, p. 53. 52 BERTELLI 1986, p. 334. 53 FILIPOVÁ 2014; Eadem 2017/2. 54 FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, pp. 182–184. 55 E.g. DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 3–4; RUSSO 2005, p. 89. 56 E.g. ORIOLI 1997; NOVARA 1997, pp. 48–49; DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 86. 57 From Agnellus we know only that the Bishop Ursus died on 13 April, “on the Day of the Holy Resurrection” (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 23. DELIYANNIS 2003, pp. 119–120). The Easter festival fell to April 13 in 396 and 426 (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 85–86; JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 61). 58 For more on the administrative position of Ravenna as provincial capital, see CARLÀ 2010, p. 218–219. 59 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 89. 60 LIEBESCHUETZ 1996, p. 8; MARANO 2012/2, p. 174.

133 importance when the cities became deeply Christianised and when the imperial structures were weakened by internal instability and threats of enemies. As a consequence many of the cities survived only due to the fact that hey had a bishop.61 Even if the bishops were dependent on the generosity of believers his exclusive privilege of founding and consecrating churches made him a key figure in the development of Christian topography.62 Apart from the bishop, a local governor was settled in the provincial capitals as Ravenna. He was responsible for expenses in all the municipalities of his province. He decided the use of funds and he had right to ask the state government for financial support.63 Even if the written sources are quiet on such a personality in Ravenna’s history in the fourth century, his activity in the city is more than probable.

The City Walls of Ravenna

The other constituent feature of Ravenna’s topography (as well as of other late antique cities) is its city walls.64 As in the case of cathedral, the discussions on the date of its foundation has not yet been solved. Agnellus ascribed the walls to the period of Valentinian III (425– 455)65 and is followed by several scholars66 while the others suppose its foundation before or at the moment of the Emperor’s transfer.67 The fundamental question is that of Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis: “were they (the walls) built because the court had moved there, or did the court move there because the walls were already built?”68 The author doubts that Honorius would have built a palace, mint or military barracks in an unwalled area in the restless year 402.69 What we know with certainty is that the original walls of Ravenna enclosed a rectangular area of 22 ha (Ravenna quadrata). The walls built under Honorius or Valentinian enclosed and area of 166 ha and were built at one moment70 and according to Enrico Cirelli the settlement did not have an intensive urban density even in the course of fifth century [Fig. 87].71 The walls were built at least partially of the reused bricks.72 Aside from Deliyannis’s practical assumption, the construction of Ravenna’s circuit shortly before or after 402 would

61 LIEBESCHUETZ 1996, p. 18; NEIL 2012. 62 MARANO 2012/2, p. 164. 63 JACOBS 2012, p. 146. 64 CHRISTIE/GIBSON 1988 and CHRISTIE1989. Agnellus atributes the walls to the reign of Valentinan III (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 40). For the history of the debate about the walls, see especially MAURO 2000; GELICHI 2005; CIRELLI 2008, pp. 55–67; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 52–54; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 75–77. 65 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 40. 66 Christie 1989, pp. 135–136 agrees with Agnellus but admits the problems with statement of dating with reused bricks. Maioli 2000 supposes later additions at the time of Odoacer or Theodoric. 67 FABBRI 2004, pp. 37–39; GELICHI 2000, pp. 118–120; CIRELLI 2010, p. 243; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 52–54. 68 DELIANNIS 2010, p. 53. 69 Ibidem. 70 CHRISTIE 1989, p. 115. 71 CIRELLI 2010, p. 243. 72 JÄGGI 2013/2, p. 291.

134 also fit into the overall climate of an increasing insecurity throughout the whole Roman Empire and was a result of directives from the central administration. 73 New walls were built in Bologna, , , , , Terracina, Albenga and probably in . The examples similar as Ravenna where the old fortification was enlarged were Milan or Rimini.74 The walls were surely built to defend the growing cities during the years of invasions but were also a symbol of the prestige of the city.75 The municipal governments employed these monumental constructions as elements of self-representation in an on-going inter-city competition. One of the consequences would be that urban enceintes, together with Christian churches, would come to define a city by the sixth century AD in general.76 Without further archaeological discoveries, we will not be able to establish the exact date of foundation of the city walls, nonetheless if we consider it in the context of the development of all late antique cities of that time the existence of the city walls before transfer of Emperor’s court cannot be excluded. The city walls could be built even without an expectation of what should have happened in 402, as project shared by many other cities of that time.

Summary

Even if the North-Italian cities developed on the patterns of all late antique cities in general and widespread Christianisation of the region created its own structures of authorities, the presence of the emperors for extended periods created, of course, new demands on the cities. The important transit and strategic centres as Milan and Aquileia saw new buildings, palaces, and hippodromes because they had economic and strategic importance in supplying the troops garrisoning the passes of the north-eastern Alps. Concordia, Verona, Mantua, Cremona and were touched by imperial interventions with constructions of mints and arm factories.77 Ravenna at the beginning of the fifth century with the relocation of the imperial court was not an exception. We have to suppose increasing public investment and private and ecclesiastical munificence, which found its form in the new structures of power and commerce. 78 To summarize the image of Ravenna around 400, we cannot say to what extend Ravenna was really a deserted site at the moment of the emperor’s transfer. Nonetheless, the presence of a bishop and probably existing episcopal complex with its cathedral, urbanistic layout of the site with all structures which belong to the provincial capital including new city walls, the reconstruction of an important building of high standard during the fourth century and Christian community settled in Classe witness that Ravenna was not unprepared for the events which should have followed in the fifth and sixth centuries.

73 JACOBS 2012, p. 123. 74 CIRELLI 2010, p. 243. 75 CARLÀ 2010, p. 234. 76 JACOBS 2012, p. 125. 77 HUMPHRIES 1999, p. 65. 78 CIRELLI 2010, p. 240.

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136

HONORIUS (395–423)

It is very difficult to determine the exact moment of and reason for Honorius’ decision to relocate his court to Ravenna because no contemporary authors mention it, and the sources remain silent about whether Ravenna was supposed to be the permanent residence of the Emperor.1 The only written source referring to Honorius’ “escape” from “barbarians” is Procopius of Cesarea, secretary to Justinian’s general :

“But when word was brought that the barbarians with a great army were not far off, but somewhere among the Taulantii, he abandoned the palace and fled in disorderly fashion to Ravenna, a strong city lying just about at the end of the Ionian Gulf.”2

If the country Taulantii can be identified with Epirus, where Alaric stayed before traveling to Italy, then Procopius’ statement suggests a spontaneous and unprepared escape to a safe place, and that it happened at the time when the Visigoths left their native . Valerio Neri, however, has pointed out the chronological inaccuracies and defamatory nature of Procopius’ text, and has illuminated these deficiencies by comparison with other sources: According to Fasti Vindobonensi, Alaric arrived in Italy on November 18th, 401, possibly with the quiet consent of the eastern empire’s government. Another exact date emerging from the written sources is December 6th, 402, when Honorius first edict was issued.3 But the move to Ravenna cannot have taken place in the autumn of 401, nor can it have been to escape Alaric, because Symmachus, the famous pagan aristocrat, was admitted to the court in Milan on February 24 of the year 402. Symmachus does not mention any plan to relocate from Milan to Ravenna; on the contrary, he mentions that the general Stilicho, at that time still residing outside the peninsula, was eagerly awaited in Milan.4 Valerio Neri therefore refuses to believe that Honorius’ transfer was motivated by any imminent danger for the Emperor at his residence in Milan. Especially after the Battle of Pollentia (on Easter Sunday, 402), such an escape would not have been politically convenient, because it would have broadcast the Emperor’s doubts that Stilicho’s could gain control over the Visigoths. It is therefore more probable that the Emperor moved sometime closer to the end of the year 402, when the chances of Alaric invading Italy were less, even though the Visigothic king continued to present a danger to Italy.5 The Emperor’s transfer may not have been made out of the fear of an uncontrollable situation, and cannot be understood as an “escape”. More likely, it was a deliberate move and anticipated a changing military situation in Italy.6 Ravenna, surrounded by swamps and marshes and in a militarily strategic location on the Adriatic coast, provided an ideal place of refuge for the Emperors’ court at this time when further threats were expected.

1 The most comprehensive study dealing with the timing and justification of Honorius’ transfer is NERI 1990. 2 Procopius, History of the Wars, Book III, 2, 8–15, p. 13 (Greek text on p. 12). 3 The source cit. in NERI 1990, p. 535. 4 More about Symmachus in BARROW 1973; NERI 1990, p. 536. 5 NERI 1990, pp. 536–537. 6 Idem 1990, p. 537.

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Filippo Carlà highlighted the consequences the choice of Ravenna had on previous imperial seat of Milan. The author suggests that general Stilicho was the person who made such a choice as a result of his connections with the whose influence grew up at the beginning of the fifth century.7 In this sense the transfer to Ravenna could be of logistical and strategic reasons but also it could be an expression of Stilicho’s attitude who after the death of Ambrose did not have many proponents in Milan, a city with its own aristocracy which aspired to become the fixed residence of the court and to marginalize the ancient capital.8 Ravenna, a provincial metropolis tied to the Roman Senate9 could allow him to create a new political and social background. In this sense Filippo Carlà uses for description of Ravenna a term “semi-disembedded” capital. The definition he quotes comes from Alexander Joffe’s term “disembedded capitals” which are:

“(...) urban sites founded de novo and designed to supplant existing patterns of authority and administration (…) typically founded by new elites, either usurpers or reformers, as part of innovations designed to simultaneously undercut competing factions and create new patterns of allegiance and authority”.10

Thus Rome could start to profit from the loss of Milan’s importance, left for a much less significant city that could not compete with Rome. The creation of the metropolitan see of Aquileia and of the vicariate of Gaul in Arles at the beginning of the fifth century could be understood with the same aim to reduce Milan’s importance.11 In other words, Ravenna could be chosen not to be a counterpart of Milan but as a tool of Roman elites to restrict the symbolic and political importance of this previous imperial seat. Nonetheles, it cannot be failed to notice that, according to Yuri Marano, the transfer of the emperor’s court in 402 started the transformation of political assets of the region, while in the religious realm a dramatic increase of the bishopric is documented.12

Praise for Ravenna’s Defences

The idea of Ravenna as an unconquerable fortress protected by swamps and marshes

7 CARLÀ 2010, p. 219. 8 NERI 1990, p. 541. 9 The first sure information about the administrative position of Ravenna dates back to the end of the third and to the fourth century. It seems that Ravenna was tied to the Roman senatorial aristocracy, as Filippo Carlà demonstrated by the often changes of administrative position of the city: sometimes it was assigned to the suburbicarian diocese, sometimes to the annonaria: part of Aemilia et Liguria in the first part of the fourth century, it passed after 354 in the suburbicarian province of Flaminia et Picenum, of which it was the capital. Then always with the status of capital Ravenna passed to Aeimilia (by now independent from Liguria with the center of Milan), and then again to Flaminia (now independent from Picenum). After 402 it was inserted in the province of Flaminia et Picenum Annonarium. According to Filippo Carlà these moments are proof of a “continuously changing status of the city, with subsequent promotion to provincial capital, and constant re- definition of the extension and importance of the province it was bound to rule” (CARLÀ 2010, pp. 218–219). The author sees the ties of Ravenna with the Roman senatorial aristocracy as one of the decisive factors in the choice of Ravenna as a new sedes imperii. 10 CARLÀ 2010, p. 220 (the author uses citation in n. 135 from JOFFE 1998, p. 549). 11 CARLÀ 2010, p. 221. 12 MARANO 2012/2, p. 168.

138 is also suspect, as has been proved in a study by Andrew Gillet.13 Some sources from the fifth and sixth centuries allude to the waters of Ravenna, but rarely as a defensive feature. , a Roman official from the sixth century, is among the exceptions. He describes Ravenna in his History of the Goths:

“The city lies amid the streams of the Po between swamps and the sea, and is accessible only on one side.”14

Another description of the city’s natural defences comes from Procopius (sixth century):

“For this city of Ravenna lies in a level plain at the extremity of the Ioninan Gulf, lacking two stades of being on the sea, and it is so situated as not to be easily approached either by ships or by a land army. Ships cannot possibly put into shore there because the sea itself prevents them by forming shoals for not less than thirty stades: consequently the beach at Ravenna, although to the eye of mariners it is very near at hand, is in reality very far away by reason of the great extent of the shoal water. And a land army cannot approach it at all; for the river Po, also called the Eridanus, which flows past Ravenna, coming from the boundaries of Celtica, and other navigable rivers together with some marshes, encircle it on all sides and so cause the city to be surrounded by water.”15

But more often, the environmental conditions of Ravenna were mentioned as a curiosity or as a condition for facilitating trade.16 Procopius’ interesting testimony describes a situation when Belisarius left his base, Ravenna, during the war against the Goths in 545:

“But Belisarius became alarmed both for Rome and for the whole Roman cause, since it was impossible to lend assistance from Ravenna in any case, and especially with a small army; and so he decided to remove from there and take possession of the district about Rome, in order that by being near at hand he might be able to go to the rescue of those in difficulty there. Indeed he repented having ever come to Ravenna at all, a course which he had taken earlier through the persuasion of Vitalius and not to the advantage of the emperor’s cause, since by shutting himself up in that place he had given the enemy a free hand to determine the course of the war as they wished.”17

In fact, the defensive qualities of Ravenna seem to have been weakened by the ease with which the enemy could cut off supplies of food and drinking water. Because of the high level of the groundwater and the salinity of the ground, the city did not have any natural sources of drinking water. It had very limited local agriculture and food production, and it likely had a limited amount of wood for fuel and construction. The city’s dependence on

13 GILLET 2001, pp. 160–161. 14 “Quae urbs inter paludes et pelagus interque Padi fluenta, uno tantum patet accessu”(Jordanes, Get., XXIX/148, p. 64; my English translation). 15 Procopius, History of the Wars, Book V, 1, 11–17, pp. 7, 9 (Greek text on pp. 6, 8). 16 “Insuper oppidum duplex pars interluit Padi, certa pars alluit; qui ab alveo principali molium publicarum discerptus obiectu et per easdem derivatis tramitibus exhaustus sic dividua fluenta partitur, ut praebeant meonibus circumfusa praesidium, infusa commercium.” (Sidonius Apollinaris, Epist., Liber I, 5, p. 7). See also Jordanes, Get., XXIX, 148–151, p. 64–65: “(...) qui septima sui alvei parte per mediam influit civitatem, ad sua amoenissimum portum praebens: classem ducentarum quinquaginta navium, Dione referente, tutissimam dudum credebatur recipere stationem. Qui nunc, ut Flavius ait, quo aliquando portus fuerit, spatiossimos hortos ostendit arboribus plenos, verum de quibus non pendeant vela sed poma”. For the sources see also GILLET 2001, p. 160. 17 Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VII, XIII, 13–15, pp. 257, 259 (Greek text on pp. 256, 258).

139 external supplies of water, food and fuel made it particularly vulnerable and susceptible to . Theodoric well understood the limits of Ravenna’s defences, and rather than preserving the city’s supposedly impenetrable marshes, took over the management of public drainage works and encouraged private landowners to follow suit.18 We can agree with Andrew Gillet’s conclusion that the waters around and within Ravenna had been integrated into the city’s defensive system, but this does not necessarily mean that they were seen as impenetrable, nor that they were the feature for which Ravenna was chosen as the seat of government.19 Praise for Ravenna’s defences is absent from the older sources and this is not surprising, since the city was repeatedly besieged in the fifth and sixth centuries.20 Honorius’ court twice survived a real or imminent siege, but not because of the lagoons around Ravenna, but rather because the enemy was drawn away from the city.21 What is more, Andreas Agnellus attributed Ravenna’s security to the city walls, not to the waters of the Po, which he rarely mentions.22 If Ravenna seemed safer than Milan, this was not because of its lagoons and marshes, but because Stilicho based his army there during the reign of Honorius, using the city’s greatest advantages: maritime contact with Constantinople, control of the Dalmatian coast and control of the Alpine roads leading into Illyria. Frequent communication with Constantinople and easy movement of troops were made possible by Ravenna’s commercial port.23 And to any strategic reasons for Honorius’ choice, we must add the political reasons, which may have actually been the more the important ones. These political factors directly relate to Rome’s position as a centre of power. New information about the relationship between Emperor and Urbe in the period under study will be crucial for the following section of my text.

Ravenna versus Rome

The Emperors abandoned Rome during the second and third centuries when, for strategic reasons, they preferred to reside in cities nearer the borders threatened by “barbarian” invasions.24 The Emperors of the third and fourth centuries stayed away from Rome to avoid collisions with the powerful Roman aristocracy.25 There was increasing pressure on the borders of the Roman Empire at the end of the third century, and this meant that the Emperor had to spend much time in command of his armies. The Emperor’s court

18 GILLET 2001, p. 161; Cfr. CHRISTIE 1989, pp. 114–115, 130–133. 19 GILLET 2001, p. 161. 20 More ibidem. 21 GILLET 2001, p. 141. 22 Agnelli Ravennatis, LPR, ch. 40, pp. 198–199; GILLET 2001, p. 160. 23 GILLET 2001, pp. 140–141. 24 JAMES 2009, pp. 50–101. General overview on the political and cultural situaion in Late Antique Rome in ENSOLI / LA ROCCA 2000. 25 DIETZ 1980. For more bibliography on this subject see GILLET 2001, p. 134, n. 7; cfr. McEVOY 2010, p. 182.

140 and central administration had to be ready to travel anywhere where a military crisis demanded their presence. Rome continued to retain its symbolic status as , as writers of poetry and prose in the fourth and fifth centuries testify,26 and the imperial dignity in Rome was still represented in various symbolic ways: through building projects such as baths, modifications of the banks of the Tiber’s, statues or inscriptions.27 Contact between the imperial court and the Senate of Rome was maintained by a busy traffic of envoys.28 Rome’s position, however, was disadvantageous for any ruler who had to be able to move quickly to Gaul or to the Balkans. The military Emperors of the late fourth century in the West, who personally led their armies into battle, therefore ruled from Trier, Sirmium or Milan in order to be nearer the borders and more easily repel barbarian invasions.29 From the end of the year 402 Ravenna became the new sedes imperialis.30 Honorius, however, left Ravenna at the end of the year 403, and went to Rome to celebrate his sixth consular office. The Roman poet , a spokesman for the Roman aristocracy and the people, described Honorius’ arrival in his panegyric to the sixth consular office.31 On the occasion of the consular celebration, Claudian again addresses the question of whether Rome was the natural imperial residence and asserts that Rome would be the Emperor’s future residence.32 Claudian sings the praises of Honorius’ love and admiration for the eternal city and for its tradition, although he does not explicitly mention any imperial intention to relocate there forever.33 Honorius’ stay in Rome was, according to Zosimos, interrupted in the year 408 by specific political circumstances: the death of his brother , a conspiracy against Stilicho and unstable relations with Alaric.34 For these reasons, therefore, Ravenna became the alternative sedes imperialis of Honorius’ government for the last fifteen years of his reign.35 What explains the Emperors’ newfound enthusiasm for Rome in the fifth century? This phenomenon may be surprising at first glance, especially considering that in 410 Rome was plundered by the Goths, and that from 439 the city was constantly threatened by Vandal raids from North Africa. The Emperors hardly found refuge in Rome.36 Scholars have suggested several possible reasons for this new imperial attitude towards Rome. Andrew Gillet believes that the reason could be that the Emperors sought a closer relationship with the

26 The key study on this subject is PASCHOUD 1967; more recently ROBERTS 2001. 27 For imperial public works in the city generally see LANÇON 2000; HUMPHRIES 2007. 28 GILLET 2001, p. 134. 29 MILLAR 1977, pp. 13–57; McEVOY 2010, pp. 151, 159; GILLET 2001, pp. 133–134; more about the Emperor-soldiers in JOHNES 2008. 30 In the period between Diocletian’s accession to the throne in 284 and sack of Rome by Alaric’s army in 410, there are only thirteen Emperor’s visits (HUMPHRIES 2003, p. 28). 31 “Acrior interea visendi principis ardor accendit cum plebe patres et saepe negatum flagitat adventum” (Claudian, VI Cons, coll. 353–355). For Honorius and Rome see LEJDEGÅRD 2002. 32 “Non alium certe decuit rectoribus orbis esse larem.” (Claudian, VI Cons, coll. 41–42). 33 NERI 1990, p. 537. 34 Zosimos, Hist. nov., 30, pp. 44–45 (greek text ibidem); GILLET 2001, pp. 140–141. 35 Ibidem, p. 162. 36 McEVOY 2010, p. 153.

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Roman aristocracy.37 The Roman aristocracy had always played an important role in imperial politics, but it took on greater importance at a time when the western territories of the Roman Empire, and therefore imperial revenues, were threatened. Direct involvement of the rich senatorial aristocracy in imperial policies allowed the senators to maintain their prestige, and thus made it more likely that the Emperor would be able to count on their support and funding.38 According to Mark Humphries, late Roman Emperors recognized the importance of Rome as the main political stage and as a place especially suitable for the demonstration of imperial power and victory.39 Meaghan McEvoy has elaborated on both of the above hypotheses in a comprehensive study. She examines the change in imperial attitudes from a broader perspective, and draws attention to the transformation of the imperial office itself during this period.40 From the late fourth to the middle of the fifth centuries, the role of the emperor underwent a remarkable transformation. This transformation was in no small part due to the promotion of the Emperors’ children to the throne, a practice, which implied a real change in the nature and perception of the imperial government.41 Since children could not personally demonstrate that they would safeguard the state through military campaigns, entirely different virtues had to be emphasized in the imperial presentation, virtues such as youthful promise, piety, innocence and humility. Command of the imperial military forces was transferred to the famous generals of the fourth and fifth centuries, and the Emperor’s main role became mostly ceremonial. In the West, only Rome could offer a legitimate and appropriate place for imperial ceremonies and for the promotion of a close relationship between the Emperor and the bishop of Rome. This relationship could be achieved through ecclesiastical patronage, and we will see that this is especially obvious for the reign of Valentinian III, or by other means such as Honorius’ founding of a dynastic mausoleum annexed to the southern transept of St Peter’s basilica at the Vatican. The mausoleum was built between 400 and 408, probably as a new foundation, to house the remains not only of Honorius, but the entire dynasty beginning with Honorius’ wife, the Empress Maria, who was also the daughter of Stilicho and Stilicho’s wife Serena.42 Several hypotheses may explain why Honorius built this mausoleum. Firstly, Honorius desired to link the Emperor with the Apostles. This desire had been evident since the time of Emperor Constantine and the construction of the Apostoleion in Constantinople. Although neither

37 GILLET 2001, pp. 163–1655; HUMPHRIES 2007, p. 39. 38 McEVOY 2010, p. 188. 39 HUMPHRIES 2015. 40 McEVOY 2010. 41 More about child-emperors ibidem, pp. 154–156 and eadem 2013/2. 42 The sarcophagus made of Egyptian green granite was discovered in 1544. It was possible to identify it as the Empress’ tomb due to a gold band, an emerald engraved with a bust of the Emperor Honorius, and a bulla or seal (one of only two items from the burial that can be identified today) inscribed with the names of Maria, Honorius and other members of Maria’s family, arranged in the shape of a Chi-Rho. More in PAOLUCCI 2008; JOHNSON 2009, p. 173–174; McEVOY 2013/1, p. 121.

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Constantine’s real intentions in regard to the Apostoleion nor the timetable of its construction have been conclusively determined, there is no doubt that Constantine and his descendants were buried there.43 In contrast, the Emperors of the West were not buried in Rome in the century before Honorius. Even the body of , Emperor of the West, was transferred to Constantinople after his death in 375, as was the body of Constantia, first wife of the Western Emperor Gratian.44 Honorius decision to build a dynastic mausoleum at the Vatican could also be related to the fact that in the mid- and late fourth century, many members of the Roman Christian elite, as well as members of the Roman aristocracy, had been buried at the Vatican. Maeghan McEvoy suggests that Honorius’ mausoleum can thus also be seen as an attempt to “build a bridge” between the Emperor and the powerful Christian senatorial aristocracy.45 And finally, Honorius’ brother, the Eastern Emperor Arcadius, added his personal mausoleum to the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople (so-called “South Stoa“) in 404.46 In these two projects, we may be seeing a certain competition between emperors, and perhaps also between cities. Relations between the eastern and western parts of the Roman Empire were very unstable in the fifth century, and it is therefore possible that the western emperor annexed his dynastic mausoleum to the church of St. Peter to confirm not the equality, but even the supremacy of Rome vis-a-vis the capital of the East.47 The Emperor’s desire to be buried near St Peter necessarily raises the question of the relationship between the Emperor and the Roman bishop, something, which has been extensively revised in recent studies.48 According to the traditional analyses, Rome declined as the imperial capital, especially after the founding of Constantinople, and began its transformation into the papal city. In this view, it would seem that fifth-century Rome was ruled by powerful rather than by the Emperors.49 While there is no doubt that papal power actually grew during this period, in all probability this growth was supported by imperial court rather than opposed.50 The desire of Honorius to be buried by the tomb of St Peter may be evidence for cooperation between Emperors and Roman bishops, and an alliance created to strengthen the position of Rome against the new of the East, whether in the sacred or secular sphere. In the fifth century, the Western Roman Empire was losing its territories and hence its economic base, and Rome itself faced raids by the Goths (410) and Vandals (455). In contrast, Constantinople flourished as a Christian city and gained in importance due to the transfer of

43 For the most recent analysis see JOHNSON 2009, pp. 139–156. 44 McEVOY 2013/1, p. 125. 45 Eadem 2010, p. 182. 46 See the most recently JOHNSON 2009, p. 127. 47 McEVOY 2013/1, p. 129. 48 HUMPHRIES 2007; Idem 2012; McEVOY 2013/1, p. 133. 49 E.g. KRAUTHEIMER 1983, p. 93; Idem 1980, pp. 39–58. Krautheimer never mentions Valentinian. For critical reconsideration of the historiography see HUMPHRIES 2007, pp. 21–26; Idem 2012, pp. 162–163. 50 McEVOY 2013/1, p. 133.

143 important relics.51 The only reason Rome kept its predominance was the undeniable apostolic succession of the bishops of Rome, and as time went on, the popes more and more frequently called their bishopric the “Apostolic See” and Peter “the Prince of the Apostles”.52 Constantinople could not compete on this field. In the writings of (349– 407), Bishop of Constantinople, there is evidence that those living in Constantinople were aware of this fact:

“Heaven, when the sun is emitting its rays, is not as resplendend as the city of the Romans radiating everywhere in the universe the light of these two lamps (Peter and Paul). With what two crowns is it adorned. (…) With what golden chains is it girded. (…) I admire this city, not because of its multitude of gold, not because of its columns, not because of its pomp, but because of these two pillars of the church.”53

The idea of the apostolic succession of the bishops of Rome, and superiority of the Roman over the Constantinopolitan See, first officially formulated in the third of the four canons of the Council of Constantinople in 381, thus became one of Honorius’ weapons in the competition with his brother Arcadius.54 Likewise, as the Western Empire shrank geographically, the need grew for support from the Roman aristocracy. Since much of that aristocracy had taken up the custom of burial in the Basilica of St Peter, Honorius’ mausoleum showed the Roman elites that his government would be based on good relations with the Roman bishop and the senatorial aristocracy.

Sedes imperii

In this climate of tension between the two parts of the Empire, with the Emperors desperately seeking to stabilise the internal politics of the western half, Ravenna was born.55 Yet the contemporary written sources use terms worthy of a glorious new imperial residence only sparingly for Ravenna, and prolifically for the celebration of Rome as the emperor’s new residence. Sidonius Apollinaris, for example, was a Gallic aristocrat sent from Gaul to Rome on the occasion of the appointment of Anthemius to the imperial throne (466). He described his journey in a long and interesting letter to his friend Heronius (I, 5) which was completed the following year (I, 9). He compares Ravenna not to Rome or Constantinople, but to Milan, while he exalts Rome in exaggerated terms.56 In the description of his journey he does not even mention the role of Ravenna as the main imperial residence and highlights its major drawback:

51 More about the translatio of relics to Constantinople in the second half of the fourth century and beginning of the fifth century see WARD-PERKINS 2012, pp. 60–61. 52 MACCARRONE 1976; PIETRI 1976, pp. 1505–1510 and 1463–1466. 53 John Chrysostom, Homily 36, PG 63.846-47, cit. in WARD-PERKINS 2012, p. 62 (translation of František Dvorník: DVORNÍK 1958, p. 145). 54 McLYNN 2012, p. 345. 55 CIRELLI 2010, p. 243. 56 GILLET 2001, p. 158, with the sources cited in note 122. More about Sidonius in HARRIES 1994.

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“ (…) on one side the briny sea-water rushed up to the gates, and elsewhere the sewerlike filth of the channels was churned up by the boat-traffic, and the bargemen’s poles, boring into the glue at the bottom, helped to befoul the current, slow and sluggish at the best: the result was that we went thirsty though surrounded by water, finding nowhere pure water from aqueducts, nowhere a filthproof reservoir, nowhere a bubbling spring or mudfree well.”57

Before the fifth century, the aqueduct built by Trajan58 had become dysfunctional, and there was a limited supply of fresh drinking water. Honorius and Valentinian III failed to provide a basic urban infrastructure for the city.59 In another letter to his friend Candidianus, Sidonius describes Ravenna in these words:

“In that marshland the laws of nature are continually turned upside down; the walls fall and the waters stand, towers float and ships are grounded, the sick promenade and the physicians lie abed, the baths freeze and the houses burn, the living go thirsty and the buried swim, thieves keep vigil and authorities sleep, clerics practise usury and Syrians sing psalms, business men go soldiering and soldiers do business, the old go in for ball-playing and the young for dicing, the eunuchs for arms and the federates for culture”.60

There is no evidence of a new regional aristocracy in Ravenna in the fifth century, or of local families with a tradition of service at the emperor’s court. The earliest evidence of land ownership around Ravenna dates from the mid-sixth century.61 Most of the officials who both occupied the highest rank, and whose origins are documented, came from the great Roman senatorial families, and their presence in Ravenna only represented the need to be present at the court for the duration of their office.62 While cultivated aristocrats spent some time in Ravenna, they did not try to create an intellectual center there, although during their presence they certainly influenced the production of luxury goods there, such as marble sarcophagi and objects of ivory. They formed the same kind of sophisticated community of patrons from which Milanese workshops had benefited in the previous century.63 When Emperor Honorius moved his court to Ravenna, he moved his sedes imperialis there, not the caput imperii. Using the right term, as was outlined in the introductory chapter of this work, is crucial in the case of Ravenna, and may lead to a discussion of the true role of Ravenna as it was understood by Honorius’ contemporaries. Nonetheless, it remains a fact that Honorius’ transfer significantly and rapidly influenced the subsequent development of

57 “(...) nisi quod, cum sese hinc salsum portis pelagus impingeret, hinc cloacali pulte fossarum discursu lintrium ventilata ipse lentati languidus lapsus umoris nauticis cuspidibus foraminato fundi glutino sordidaretur, in medio undarum sitiebamus, quia nusquam vel aquaeductuum liquor integer vel cisterna defaecabilis vel fons inriguus vel puteus inlimis.” (Sidonius Apollinaris, Epist., Book I, V, To Heronius; from Anderson 1936, pp. 356–357 with English translation). 58 ANTONIAZZI/PRATI 1988, pp. 32–34. 59 GILLET 2001, p. 159. 60 “In qua palude indesinenter rerum omnium lege perversa muri cadunt aquae stant, turres fluunt naves sedent, aegri deambulant medici iacent, algent balnea domicilia conflagrant, sitiunt vivi natant sepulti, vigilant fures dormiunt potestates, faenerantur clerici Syri psallunt, negotiatores militant milites negotiantur, student pilae senes aleae iuvenes, armis eunuchi litteris .” (Sidonius Apollinaris, Epist., Book I, VIII, To Candidianus; from ANDERSON 1936, pp. 380, 382 with English translation). 61 GILLET 2001, p. 164. 62 PIETRI 1983, p. 673; GILLET 2001, p. 164. 63 PIETRI 1983, p. 654.

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Ravenna.64 The original oppidum became a civitas, and it quickly expanded to meet the demands of the imperial court, and to display the power of that court. The organization of food supplies, the utilization of private property, the minting and circulation of coins, the appropriate use of urban space; these are all features of a well-functioning metropolis in Late Antiquity.65 This development was also significantly supported by the polyethnic and multilingual society that came together, featuring Goths, Skyrians, , Armenians, Syrians, Arabs and of various professions.66 The symbiosis of these diverse groups with the prevailing local Latin population helped to create the atmosphere of a real cosmopolis in Ravenna.67

Construction of the City

What the relationship and “separation of powers” of Emperor and of the previous authorities of Ravenna (which is its bishop and, probably, a local governor) might have been is not known. Nonetheless, a piece of legislation enacted by Honorius in Ravenna in 408, throws some light on the issue: the emperor empowered the bishops to supervise the redemption of prisoners, giving them the authority of curiales and rectores. 68 Thus we can suppose that with the state’s endorsement, the bishop of Ravenna was charged of controlling function over the city and its role as natural leader of the city continued. In the first part of this work we looked at practical organisation of the works which stood behind the construction of the city, at circulation of workers, materials and models.69 Nonetheless, archaeological and written sources from the period of Honorius’ reign provide us with only a very vague idea about how the new city was planned, or about how the new imperial residence in Ravenna was built. Even though Honorius lived in Ravenna for almost twenty years, we do not know whether the Emperor intended to make a dignified imperial residence of Ravenna, or if it was only a stop on the way to Rome. Was it an alternative residence where only those buildings necessary for the functioning of public administration were built, while the Emperor’s interest was focused on Rome? There are several reasons why we know so little about the planning of the city and its first public works. First, the nature of archaeology means that many finds cannot be precisely dated, and it is not clear whether they are from the initial period of the sedes imperii or from later. This is the case with the city walls as mentioned above as well as with such an important

64 CIRELLI 2007/2, pp. 301–318. 65 COSENTINO 2005; PASQUALI 2005; PANI ERMINI 2005; ARSLAN 2005; CHRYSOS 2005, p. 1062. 66 GNOLI 2005; CHRYSOS 2005, p. 1062. 67 Ibidem. 68 CTh v, 7, 2 (Dec. 409)=Brev. v, 5, 2 (408) cit in LIZZI 1990, p. 163, n. 50. 69 See pp. 51–69 of this work.

146 construction as the Imperial Palace.70 The only project which was obviously built upon the arrival of the Emperor’s court is the Mint where the first coins were minted in 402.71 Second, there are few written sources. One would have expected at least a few more written descriptions to have survived if Honorius had been truly interested in the project. Their absence may be due to the vagaries of written sources survival, or may indicate that the Emperor had a rather lukewarm approach to constructing Ravenna. From the analysis of the earlier building projects of Emperors, Diliana Angelova showed that the Emperors “stroved to inaugurate their own age of renewal, which they signalled in the iconography of their coins, their choice of patron gods, the building programs they initiated, and their way of honouring their families” (…). (The Emperor) aspire to be a savior, a benefactor, a true pater patriae in the tradition of the first founders”.72 But Honorius seems to concentrate all his attention to Rome and probably did not aim to be such a proud founder of new city. Ravenna’s urbanism is often compared to other cities as Milan, Rome and Constantinople.73 It is without doubt that the late antique cities both in the West and in the East shared similar patterns.74 Nonetheless it is also without doubt that all the cities were based on different historical, urban and sociological conditions and the deliberate policy of urban renewal, both from the imperial administration and from individual cities is hard to trace. Rather, a number of unrelated factors formed what could be called as “typical Late Antique city”.75 These developments did have a direct influence on one another at times. Constantinople represent a special example among these cities as an early Byzantine foundation based on different principles,76 at Rome, Ravenna and Milan, the late design norms could only be realized by interfering with an already existing appearance. The destructions, fires, or earthquakes in these cities were the decisive factors for the transformation and for the urbanistics of Late Antiquity. They gave rise to changes, but also to a careful restoration.77 Ravenna is a special case since the development which started at the beginning of the fifth century was not limited to the repair of damaged or destroyed buildings but aimed to recreate the city that would have been worthy of the title sedes imperii.

70 For the walls see pp. 134–135 of this work with bibliography, for the Palace see Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, chs 35, 39, 40 and 132. Excavations of the site of the so-called “Theodoric’s palace” confirmed that the place developed slowly, starting in the fourth century as a suburban villa. At the beginning of the fifth century the building was expanded. CHRISTIE 2011, pp. 154–155 suggests that it could also be the site of Honorius’ or Valentinian’s palace because it is near San Giovanni Evangelista, sometimes called a “palace church”. For more about this archaeological investigation see AUGENTI 2002; CIRELLI 2008, pp.78–89. Summary of the discussions in JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 77–82. 71 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, chs 115 and 164. For discussion on its location see AUGENTI 2005, pp. 23–31. On moneta aurea see also DEICHMANN 1989, pp. 54–56. 72 ANGELOVA 2015, p. 2. 73 In the sense of urbanism especially CHRISTIE 2011, pp. 142–157. 74 LIEBESCHUETZ 1996, p. 4 75 JACOBS 2012, p. 150. 76 On the development of Constantinople as the principal imperial residence in the East, see especially DAGRON 1974; JACOBS 2012; MATHEWS 2012. 77 BAUER 1996, p. 391.

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The Early Ravennate Churches

The only Ravennate church that can safely be dated to Honorius’ reign is a Basilica extra muros, built in a burial zone between Ravenna and Classe, at Caesarea. It was probably built before 426, and was dedicated to the Roman martyr St. Lawrence.78 The funeral function of this church corresponded with the function of the fourth-century basilica of St. Lawrence in Rome.79 Agnellus informs us that it was not the Emperor who decided to build this church in Ravenna, but his maior cubiculi Lauricius, using money originally provided by the Emperor for the construction of the Imperial Palace.80 This information, if it is anything more than just legendary, would add another evidence to the hypothesis that Honorius’ was not too interested in constructing the new city. It also documents a certain theological connection with Rome. St. Lawrence and his cult had been firmly entrenched in Rome since the time of Constantine, who founded the basilica dedicated to Lawrence near the martyr’s tomb.81 If the large number of medieval churches dedicated to St. Lawrence at Rome is any indication, he was probably the most venerated local saint.82 He was especially venerated by members of the ,83 as shown by the church at Ravenna and the (probably) slightly older “imperial” church of St. Lawrence in Milan.84 Recent studies, based on archaeometric analyses of the Milanese church, have confirmed that its construction was undertaken by that part of the Milanese aristocracy, which had not moved to Ravenna. With this ambitious project, it seems that the remaining Milanese aristocracy was asserting its continued presence in the city.85 The architectural space adjacent to the Ravennate Basilica of the Holy Cross, today known as the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, was probably also dedicated to St. Lawrence, as we shall see.86 And finally, the way the Emperor Valentinian III worked together with Pope Sixtus III on the construction and decoration of the Basilica of St. Lawrence in Rome

78 The Church of St. Lawrence in Ravenna was demolished in 1553. DEICHMANN 1976, pp. 336–340; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 61–62; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 84–87. The date is based on information from Augustin’s sermon n. 322, which has in turn been dated to 421–426. They are, therefore, considered a terminus ante quem (“gloriosi martyris Laurentii memoriam (...) quae apud Ravennam nuper collocata est”, in , Sermons, col. 1444). For further discussion on the date see JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 85, n. 188. 79 CIRELLI 2008, p. 115; KRAUTHEIMER/CURCIC 1986, pp. 51–54; DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 61. 80 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 35. 81 The most recent study on Constantine’s basilica is SERRA 2015, pp. 40–49; TOMEA 2015, p. 59. 82 For a catalogue of the medieval churches in Rome dedicated to Lawrence see HÜLSEN 1927, pp. 280–297. 83 For the veneration of St Lawrence by the Theodosian dynasty see DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 75–77; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 78–79. 84 The date 390–410 established in FIENI 2004. For discussion on the function of San Lorenzo in Milan see esp. LEWIS 1973 (palace church). Cfr. PICARD 1988, p. 60 (). 85 For the historiography of the research of St. Lawrence in Milan and for all the different hypothesis on dating, different phases of construction, patrons and functions, see FIENI 2004, pp. 71–73 and 84–88; LÖX 2008; DAVID 2011; FILIPOVÁ 2017/2. 86 See p. 174 of this work.

148 demonstrates the Theodosian dynasty’s loyalty to this saint.87 The Church of St. Lawrence in Ravenna had, probably right from the beginning, an adjoining chapel, the so-called monasterium of Saints Stephen, Gervasius, and Protasius, and it was here that Lauritius was buried. Agnellus tells us about its decoration.88 According to Alžběta Filipová, the dedication of this Ravennate chapel to Stephen should not surprise us. His body was found near Jerusalem in 415, and his circulating relics soon became the object of special veneration. Stephen was popular not only as the protomartyr, but for his direct connection with the Holy Land. It is very likely that some of Stephen’s relics were in Milan, together with the relics of the two Milanese saints, Gervasius and Protasius. By including Gervasius and Protasius in the dedication of the Ravennate chapel, Honorius may have been honouring the previous sedes imperii;89 there may have been, on the other hand, more practical reasons for the dedication. In the early fifth century, Milan was an easy source for relics, and a new church, obviously, needed relics. Since the time of Bishop Ambrose (374–397), and throughout the fifth century, Milan was the only city in the Western Roman Empire which willingly distributed the relics of its saints. While Rome protected its enormous reserves of martyrs and their relics, and did not start to distribute contact relics (brandea) until the end of the fifth century, Milan had the opposite strategy: by distributing the blood of its martyrs, whose remains had been miraculously found by Ambrose himself, Milan consolidated its power as a religious metropolis. Milanese architectural models also seem to have spread hand in hand with Milanese relics.90 Some scholars have dated the first phase of construction of the Basilica of the Holy Cross to Honorius’ reign.91 It was built in the northwestern part of the city on the ruins of Roman houses, which, according to archaeological excavations, had been abandoned since the third century.92 The church underwent several reconstructions, the most fundamental of which took place in 1602, when seven meters of west end of the nave had to make way for a new road (now the Via Galla Placidia).93 The site has been archaeologically explored many times, most recently between 2008 and 2011.94 Basilica of the Holy Cross was built in two main phases. During the first phase, the basilica itself was built on the ground plan of a Latin cross. The second phase saw the basilica enlarged by the addition of (probably) two chapels attached to the ends of narthex. Only one chapel has survived, and it is now known as the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. The external side porticos, housing tombs, belong to the second

87 DELIYANNIS 2010, n. 115, p. 326. The most recent work on the development of the whole complex of San Lorenzo fuori le mura in Rome is MONDINI 2016. 88 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 36. Agnellus (ch. 26) gives a (probably incorrect) date for the consecration of the chapel, 435. See more in CARLÀ 2010, pp. 224–225. 89 FILIPOVÁ 2017/1. 90 Eadem 2014. 91 E.g. ZANGARA 2000, p. 270; JÄGGI 2013/3, p. 44. 92 MANZELLI 2000, p. 236. 93 For the archaeology of this building see DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 51–59; GELICHI/NOVARA 1995. 94 DAVID 2013/3. For the bibliography on the Church of the Holy Cross in CASSANELLI 2013 in ibidem.

149 phase [Figs 12, 20].95 The debate on when the various phases of construction were carried out has not yet been concluded. Massimiliano David suggest that the first phase lasted from 424 to 432, the second from 432 to 450. This would mean that the Basilica of the Holy Cross was started under the patronage of Galla Placidia, who had been acting since 425 as regent, in Ravenna, for her son Valentinian.96 Vicenza Zangara, however, thinks that the first phase could even have been built under Honorius,97 and Carola Jäggi puts it in the years 416–421, during Galla Placidia’s first stay in Ravenna, i.e. before she left for Constantinople after the death of her husband Constantius and her disputes with Honorius.98 The disagreement regarding the first phase has been the most intense. The fact that the basilica was built in the form of Latin cross – still an unusual ground plan at that time99 – has led some scholars to connect the building with Constantine’s mother, Empress Helena.100 Between 326 and 328, Helena undertook a to Jerusalem, where she miraculously discovered the Cross of Christ. She then transferred this rare to Rome and put it in the Chapel of the Church of The Holy Cross in Jerusalem.101 According to these scholars’ hypothesis, a century later, Galla Placidia decided to honour the Empress Helena, as well as demonstrate the continuity of her dynasty, with several new projects. Galla Placidia first had a chapel in Rome decorated with mosaics (no longer extant),102 and then imitated Helena still further (according to Massimiliano David, at least) by bringing the cult of the Holy Cross to Ravenna. This would date the first phase of construction of the Ravennate church to around 425, and would explain why it was built in the form of a Latin cross.103 David sees imitation of the Church of The Holy Cross in Jerusalem not only in the form and dedication of the Ravennate basilica, but also in the decoration preserved in the side chapel of the transept, the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia [Fig. 88].104 This hypothesis has been challenged by others such as Carola Jäggi, who finds little evidence to support the assumption that the structural form and decoration of the Basilica of the Holy Cross were conscious imitations of the Helena’s legendary projects.105 Aside from meagre archaeological finds, our only evidence for the original appearance of the basilica is Agnellus’s testimony, which includes metric verses describing decoration that is no longer

95 Under the mosaic pavement, a coin of Valentinian from 432 was found; this date is thus considered the terminus post quem for the pavement. (DAVID 2013/2, p. 13). 96 Ibidem. For the same opinion see also GELICHI/NOVARA 1995, p. 357. That Galla Placidia built the Church of Holy Cross, see Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 41. 97 ZANGARA 2000, p. 270. 98 JÄGGI 2013/3, p. 44. For the same opinion see also RIZZARDI 1996, pp.129–130. Cfr. DEICHMANN 1974, p. 52. 99 For stratigraphic analysis and discussion on dating see FIORINI 2013, p. 95. 100 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 74; DAVID 2012; Idem 2013/2, p. 11. 101 CASSANELLI 2012, esp. DAVID 2012 ibidem. 102 KRAUTHEIMER 1937, p. 168; BRUBAKER 1997, p. 61; BLAAUW 2012, pp. 28, 34–35. 103 DAVID 2013/2, p. 12. Already DEICHMANN 1974, p. 55 considers the hypothesis that Galla could have obtained a relic of the Holy Cross, but he admits that we have no proof. 104 DAVID 2013/2, p. 12. See pp. 171–174 of this work. 105 JÄGGI 2013/3, p. 45.

150 extant. But Agnellus was describing events, which had taken place 400 years before, so we cannot be sure whether Agnellus was describing the original mosaic, nor does he say who commissioned it.106 What is more, the ground plan of the church does not necessarily mean that the church was dedicated to the Holy Cross, since several other contemporary buildings with varying dedications – the Basilica Apostolorum (Church of St. Nazarius) and Basilica Virginum in Milan, the Church of the Concilium Sanctorum in Aoste, and the Church of the Holy Apostles in Como – were also built in the form of a Latin cross. Cruciform basilicas in the West were, it seems, more often associated with the apostles or with Ambrosian saints.107 Conversely, the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Gerusalemme in Rome, where the relic of the Holy Cross was preserved, was itself not built on this plan. There is no reason for us to doubt Galla Placidia’s interest in the cult of the Holy Cross, but it cannot tell us when the first phase of the Church of the Holy Cross at Ravenna was undertaken. For help in dating this building, it has been proposed to look elsewhere for a model – to the Milanese Basilica Apostolorum (Church of St. Nazarius).108 This church arose over the supposed burial place of St. Nazarius and was built on the same plan [Fig. 12, 18]. Filipová considers it reasonable to assume that relics of Milanese saints were revered in Ravenna at the time of Honorius, even if they were contact relics, not the bodies themselves.109 There is nothing improbable in assuming that during the first period of the sedes imperii in Ravenna, churches were built to honour both Roman and Milanese saints. This would, in fact, closely correspond to the religious atmosphere in northern Italy in the early fifth century, when Milan’s Church performed the role of “metropolis”. It seems that this status was not officially institutionalized, but was based more on the personality and activities of Ambrose, Bishop of Milan.110 Even though this church had considerable authority in northern Italy and in many ways tried to maintain local traditions,111 it rarely diverged with the Roman See on theological matters. Rome, in fact, was an important concept for Ambrose, a concept on which he based his claim to authority over the other bishops of northern Italy.112 In Ravenna and Caesarea, these Milanese relics and churches with chapels celebrating Milanese saints appear to characterize the first period of the sedes imperii in Ravenna, symbolically turning back to Milan and its church. The Basilica of the Holy Cross in Ravenna may not have been completed before the political situation changed with the return of young Valentinian and Galla Placidia in 425.113

106 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 41. 107 The model for western basilicas on the ground plan of a Latin cross was probably the Apostoleion in Constantinople, echoed primarily by martyrial churches in the East. The first example of this repetition in the West was probably the Basilica Apostolorum in Milan from the time of Ambrose, built by the bishop to store the relics of the Apostles before it was re-consecrated to the maryr St. Nazarius. On the circulation of this architectural form, see most recently FRANKLIN 2013; FILIPOVÁ 2017/2. 108 FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, pp. 39–76. 109 Ibidem. 110 CATTANEO 1982. 111 FOLETTI 2009. 112 McLYNN 1994, pp. 279–280. 113 McLYNN 1994. See pp. 163–171 of this work.

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The new regime, established and supported by the Eastern Government, focused its attention not on Milan, but on Rome and Constantinople (although the cults of Milanese saints were not extinguished, as we will see).114 The second phase of construction at the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Ravenna may well date to the period of Galla Placidia’s regency in the and , and may have involved rededicating the Church to the Holy Cross, something which would have corresponded better with the ambitions of the Empress.

Ravenna and Constantinople

We can only speculate as to how the imperial family really saw Ravenna when Honorius moved his court there. As we have seen, the Church of St. Lawrence and the Basilica of the Holy Cross may have been conceived on Milanese models. Nevertheless, several historical and archaeological studies convincingly prove that other parts of the city were built in conscious imitation of Constantinople. The new capital of the East was dominated by the same dynasty, and served as a model for many expressions of public life in Ravenna. This is illustrated by the names of the public buildings of the Imperial Palace at Ravenna (which echoed the names of the corresponding parts of Constantine’s Palace, e.g. Lauretum/Daphnè; ad Calchi/Chalkè), the dedications of new churches and chapels to eastern saints who were venerated by the court in Constantinople (St. John the Evangelist, St. Stephan), and the names of public constructions (the road Platea Maior / Reghìa tou Palatìou, also called Platei; Porta Aurea / Chrysea Porta).115 Raffaella Farioli Campanati has rightly pointed out that we do not know with certainty whether those epithets were applied from the beginning,116 but the Porta Aurea is, from the perspective of urban planning, a particularly good example of conscious ideological imitation of Constantinople. This monument was originally a triumphal arch, built by Claudius, and was incorporated into Ravenna’s city walls during their construction. The same had happened at Constantinople, where the triumphal arch from 388 was incorporated into the walls built by Theodosius II in 413.117 In both cases, the became important entrances to the city, bearing the name Porta Aurea. It is true that the name Porta Aurea is first mentioned by Agnellus in the ninth century. By that time, however, the name could only have sounded meaningless, so it must date to an earlier era, most probably the fifth century.118 Nonetheless, as Franz Alto Bauer suggests, it is not necessary to interpret the similarity of the urban development of Ravenna and Constantinople (or Rome and Milan) as a dependence of a “provincial” city on the capital. The author proposed a different approach

114 FILIPOVÁ 2017/1. 115 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1989; DEICHMANN 1989, pp. 36–45; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991/1992; Eadem 1992; Eadem 1994; Eadem 2005, p. 362; VESPIGNANI 2005; CHRYSOS 2005, p. 1063. 116 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991/1992 admits that her analysis is based only on Agnellus. 117 BARDILL 1999. More about city walls in Constantinople in JACOBS 2012, p. 119. 118 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991/1992, 140–141.

152 when the ancient capital of Rome and the new capital, Constantinople, exerted no significant influence on the provincial towns.119 All the town architectures labeled as typical for late antique city which are present also in Ravenna, such as colonnade streets, hippodrome, thermal baths, aqueducts, have long been anchored in the consciousness as elements of a metropolis, and can not be interpreted as an attempt to imitate the forms of the big centres. The similarity of numerous late-antique metropolises like Trier, Milan, Sirmium, Thessaloniki, Nikomedia, Antioch is the result of the construction of the Tetrarchs in their new residences. In other words Franz Alto Bauer supposes that their impulses were adopted by Constantinople, not the other way round.120 It seems that cities of Late Antiquity and the beginning of the Middle Ages are not based on fixed urban or technical rules.121 It will be much more interesting in searching for Ravenna’s position with its artistic production within the whole Roman Empire to turn our attention not to the sources of inspiration, but to the overall atmosphere in which the planning and construction of the new sedes imperii took place. The beginning of the fifth century is a period characterized by tension between the two parts of the Empire, and by the desire for greater stability throughout the Roman Empire. The Emperor wanted to improve relations with the Roman aristocracy and the Bishop of Rome, and the feeling may have been mutual; the beginning of the fifth century was a period when the Roman Senate had been humbled by political events, e.g. by the forced payment of four thousand pounds of gold as a guarantee of peace to Alaric.122 As recently as the last decades of the fourth century, it had seemed likely that Milan would be confirmed as the permanent domicilium principis of the West,123 but by the beginning of of the fifth century, the political climate had changed; pressure from the Roman aristocracy and Stilicho’s political interests in this time of crisis meant that henceforth, only Rome itself could be considered the true western counterpart to the City of Constantine, the role of which was already confirmed for the Eastern Empire.

Efforts for Reunion the Empire

In 402 AD, the year when the Emperor’s court moved to Ravenna, it seemed that relations between the two parts of the Empire would be improving. The Emperors Arcadius and Honorius were proclaimed joint consuls, something, which had not happened since 396.124 But other events in 402 complicated the situation. Hostile tribes, led by the Visigoths, broke into Italy. The following year, Stilicho pushed them back into Illyria, but in 406 other

119 In his work Franz Alto Bauer analyzed the relationship between the history of the city and its impact on the cityscape in the Late Antiquity in a broad survey of the archaeological, epigraphic and source-written results of the cities of Rome, Constantinople and Ephesus (BAUER 1996). 120 BAUER 1996, pp. 304–305. 121 Ibidem. 122 NERI 1990, p. 538. 123 Ibidem, p. 537. 124 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 172.

153 tribes penetrated even deeper into imperial territory. At this time, the role of the Emperors was basically a ceremonial one, and the military policies of the Western Roman Empire were being dictated by powerful generals such as the above-named Stilicho, named in 395. As the Empire’s most successful general, he was also named guardian of the newly elected, eight-year old Emperor Honorius. But Stilicho’s growing power was not entirely to the liking of other factions, especially the imperial family in the East. When Stilicho reached out to Alaric, the King of the Visigoths, in an attempt to regain Eastern Illyria for the western half of the Empire, the eastern court and its Emperor Arcadius were naturally outraged. Starting in 406, Stilicho faced not only military crises on many fronts, but also court intrigues in Ravenna. Stilicho had given his first daughter in marriage to Honorius, and the relationship between general and Emperor was to have been thereby cemented. When the first daughter died, the second daughter was married to Honorius, but even this could not save Stilicho from a sophisticated palace coup organised and carried out by Stilicho’s political opponents, presumably with the consent of the Emperor. After Stilicho’s execution in 408, no competent general was found to replace him, leaving Honorius powerless to defend Italy. The Visigoths invaded and plundered Rome in 410.125 Order was finally restored by the general Flavius Constantius. In the , Flavius Constantius was one of the most prominent men in the Western Roman Empire, praised by his contemporaries for his Roman (not “barbarian”) origin.126 He was a soldier from the town of Naissus in the Balkans, and had probably travelled to the West with army of Theodosius in the campaign against Eugenius in 394, afterwards remaining to serve under Stilicho. Flavius Constantius eventually became magister utriusque militiae and commander of a successful campaign against the usurper Constantine III, probably in 411.127 This success in Gaul secured him a stable position at the imperial court in Ravenna.128 Flavius Constantius in all likelihood commissioned a diptych – preserved today in the cathedral treasury in Halberstadt – to celebrate his second consulate. The diptych is useful for understanding the political atmosphere of the period in Ravenna, as its iconography celebrates several historical and pseudo-historical events.

Halberstadt Diptych

The consular diptych from the cathedral treasury in Halberstadt (Inv. No. 45) [Fig. 60]129 is one of the key pieces from Volbach’s “Ravenna school”.130 Unfortunately, the

125 McEVOY 2013/2, pp. 153–186. 126 Ibidem, p. 198. 127 Ibidem, p. 197. 128 Ibidem, p. 199. 129 DELBRÜCK 1929, n. 2, pp. 91–92; VOLBACH 1976, n. 35, pp. 42–43; CAMERON 1998; ENGEMANN 1999; BÜHL 2001; OLOVSDOTTER 2005, esp. pp. 20–23. 130 VOLBACH 1976, n. 35, pp. 42–43, esp. p. 42; comparison with Diptych of Five parts from Milan in VOLBACH 1977, p. 33; Diptych of Felix: VOLBACH 1976, n. 2, p. 30; ANDERSON 1979; Diptych of

154 diptych’s inscription (tabula inscriptionis) identifying the patron was cut off at some point in the past.131 Nonetheless, based on recent studies, it is possible to state with a reasonable degree of certainty that the diptych was commissioned by Flavius Constantius132 on the occasion of his second consulate in 417.133 Problems with the formal analysis of late antique ivories were covered in an earlier chapter of this work. In the case of Halberstadt Diptych, some of those problems have been overcome in recent studies, all of whose authors agree that it came from Ravenna. These studies employ much more convincing arguments than just formal and iconographic analysis. Both panels of the Diptych are preserved, each of them being divided into three registers. The central panels show Flavius in two guises, as a and a consul, always in the presence of two other men. Apart from the Halberstadt Diptych, only two other surviving diptychs of western provenance show the honorand like this (the Diptych of Felix from 428 [Fig. 61]134 and the Diptych of Basilius from 541 [Fig. 89]135). On each of them, the honorand is clothed in the chlamys, a sign of his patrician status. In the scale of official titles in the Roman Empire, a patrician was lower than a consul, and indeed, accession to the patriciate was a prerequisite for consular appointment.136 Why, then, display Flavius as a patrician? The patriciate was the institution that represented the ancient status and privileges of the highest tier of the Roman aristocracy. Being a Roman aristocrat and patricius meant that a man possessed qualities like , honos, , and patria, and that he was willing to use them in the service of the state.137 Flavius is also depicted as a consul, and this showed his pre- eminence within the patriciate. In the Halberstadt Diptych, Flavius holds a sceptre in his

Patricius from Novara: VOLBACH 1976, n. 64, p. 56; BRECKENRIDGE 1979/2; COMPOSTELA 1990, p. 340; FORMIS 1967; GAGETTI 2007. 131 VOLBACH 1976, n. 35, pp. 42–43. 132 More about Flavius Constantius in MARTINDALE 1980, pp. 321–325; MC EVOY 2013, pp. 187–220. 133 The literature from the end of the nineteenth century already ascribed the Halberstadt Diptych to the same group as the Diptychs of Felix (428) and Asturius (449), and thus to the first half of the fifth century. (GRAEVEN 1892, p. 215; MOLINIER 1896, cat. n. 38, p. 34 (with its date in the 5th or ). GRAEVEN 1904, p. 29 provided more accurate dating to the second consulate of Flavius Constantius (417), but without arguments for it. MÖTEFINDT 1915, pp. 56–58 dates it between 428–449. VOLBACH 1916, n. 13, pp. 22–23 treats the diptych as anonymous and dates it to the beginning of the fifth century. DELBRÜCK 1929, pp. 91–92 convincingly supported the dating, and these conclusions have been subsequently adopted by most researchers. VOLBACH 1976, n. 35, pp. 42–43 refers to Delbrück and considers Flavius Constantius as the only possible patron of the diptych. A year later, the same author argued for Ravenna as its place of origin on the basis of formal comparisons with the Orthodox Baptistery, the Diptych of Patrizius from Novara, the Diptych from Rouen, and the Diptych of Five Parts from Milan. (VOLBACH 1977, p. 19). The only scholar who does not agree with this attribution is Alan Cameron. In 1998 he attempted to prove that the iconography of the Halberstadt Diptych is not western but eastern. He thinks the honorand is eastern Consul Flavius Constans (CAMERON 1998, p. 385). Shortly afterwards, this idea was rejected Josef Engemann and Gudrun Bühl. Engemann continues to belive that the patron was Flavius Constantius, but from his first consulate in 414 (ENGEMAN 1999, pp. 165–169); Bühl entirelly agrees with Delbrück (BÜHL 2001, p. 202). The most recent studies of OLOVSDOTTER 2005, esp. pp. 20–23; OLOVSDOTTER 2008; OLOVSDOTTER 2011 follow Delbrück’s dating and attribution. 134 Diptych of Felix: VOLBACH 1976, n. 2, p. 30. 135 Diptych of Basilius: VOLBACH 1976, n. 5, p. 31; CAMERON/SCHAUER 1982. 136 Constantius, the probable patron of the Halberstadt Diptych, acquired his patrician title, at the very latest, in 415. This fact could account for their choice to include a patrician representation of themselves. See MARTINDALE 1980, 395–527, esp. p. 323; OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 90. 137 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 91.

155 hand, a consular insignium, which is present on all surviving consular diptychs, but the Halberstadt Diptych is the only one from before the breakup of the Empire in the West to show two-headed sceptres.138 Alan Cameron has called attention to the differences in the size of the busts on these consular sceptres, and believes that this iconographic detail reflects the well-established practice of distinguishing younger augusti from their older counterparts.139 The upper registers of both panels of Halberstadt Diptych are identical. The two central male figures, one slightly higher than the other, sit in an identical pose, with the right hand on their chests, and two fingers raised in a gesture of formal speech. They have diadems on their heads and are dressed in the chlamys, fastened with fibulae. There is therefore no doubt that they are the Emperors. Beside the Emperors, two female figures with a nimbus sit in the same position. The figure on the left side wears a helmet with a plume, holding a spear in her left hand and an orb in her right hand, and an eagle-handled sword attached to a balteus is hung across her chest. She wears a paludamentum (military cloak) over her chiton; these are all traditional attributes of Rome. The figure on the right side sits frontally, laying her right hand on the shoulder of the Emperor beside her. She wears a crown of laurel leaves and a collar made of three rows of pearls. She wears a palla over a tunic and sandals. This figure was recognized as the counterpart to Rome, i.e. a personification of Constantinople. Thanks to these female figures, we can identify the sitting figures as the Emperors of the East and West.140 The Halberstadt Diptych is the only diptych of western origin from the fifth century where the personifications of Rome and Constantinople are present.141 But this iconography is present on another object with a similar commemorative and representative function – the silver missorium of Ardabur [Fig. 90].142 The missorium dates to 434, when the eastern general Ardabur Aspar became Consul in the West, with his residence at in North Africa. On this missorium, too, the goddesses of Rome (left) and Constantinople (right) accompany the consul, and here, too, they are differentiated by their clothes.143 Aspar, whose father and father-in-law (both depicted in medallions on the Missorium) were generals in the East and eastern Consuls in the years 419 and 427. They participated in the installment of Valentinian III on the western throne, as we will see.144

138 The other examples of this iconography: Diptych Lampadiorum, Diptych of Felix, Diptych of Asturius, Diptych from Bourges, missorium of Ardabur Aspar (OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 75). 139 CAMERON 2011, pp. 733–734; Nonetheless, as Cecilia Olovsdoter pointed, on the Diptych Lampadiorum one head is missing and we do not know how big it was. On the Diptych of Felix the right head is damaged and on the Halberstadt Diptych, the difference is so small that there are doubts as to whether it was intentional or not (OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 75). 140 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, pp. 98–100. For more about the depiction of Rome and Constantinope in late antique art see BÜHL 1995/1. 141 For Alan Cameron, this uniqueness, inter alia, was an argument for the eastern origin of this Diptych, since this iconographic detail is only seen elsewhere on the eastern Diptych of Basilius from 541 (CAMERON 1998). 142 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 99. 143 More about Ardabur Aspar in BAGNALL 1987, p. 402–403. More about Missorium of Ardabur Aspar in PAINTER 1991. 144 CHRISTIE 2011, p. 62.

156

On the Halberstadt Diptych, the active participation of both goddesses is made clear in several ways. Rome turns her face towards the elder emperor, and thereby shows whom she is interested in. She displays the weapons, which are the insignia of the Roman Emperor in his capacity as commander. She symbolically protects the Empire, which is represented by a large orb in her raised right hand. This apple traditionally belonged to Rome, but also to the Emperor as earthly ruler of the orbis terrarum. Constantinople is shown as a rather peaceful maid of honour, and her right hand rests on the arm of a younger emperor; this is a more intimate gesture indicating support and even, for an emperor who has barely reached adulthood, a kind of maternal protection.145 Cecilia Olovsdotter is convinced that the artist made a special effort to make Rome recognisable by including her Amazonian-Minervan attributes. More importantly, Olovsdotter notes that Rome holds the attributes of imperial power, namely the apple and spear. The image thus leaves no doubt as to which Emperor is in charge.146 Constantinople, by contrast, lacks not only those imperial attributes, but any clearly recognizable attributes at all. It is more than likely that the eastern tyché is a concept of a western artist who used it to illustrate Constantinople’s subordination to Rome, passive muse of civilisation to a warrior goddess. Rome represents war and victory, Constantinople peace and prosperity. This distinction between Rome and Constantinople on the Halberstadt diptych appears to have been used to show a certain balance of power between East and West, wherein the older, western emperor is the stronger one.147 If Flavius Constantius commissioned the Halberstadt Diptych in 417, as is generally believed, then the imperial figures can only be Honorius, senior western augustus (left) and his younger eastern Co- Emperor, Theodosius II (right).148 The city-goddesses and emperors depicted on this diptych were apparently not just some artist’s whimsy. They seem to reflect the political circumstances in which Flavius was appointed Consul in 417.149 Ardabur Aspar’s missorium and the Diptych of Basilius also feature these personifications of cities, and it is probably not a coincidence that all three had proven themselves in military expeditions against “barbarian” usurpers in the western half of the Empire. The goddesses, and especially the personification of Rome displayed on these diptychs, alluded to these consuls’ victories in the West, triumphs which had (supposedly) reunited the Roman Empire and brought about their appointments to the consulate.150 Another interesting feature of the Halberstadt Diptych is the bust of a woman, shown isolated, above and behind the seated figures, but in a position, which is central to the whole scene. As far as we can tell given the state of preservation of the diptych, she wears a rich palla over a tunic, and has a collar with four rows of gems or pearls. Richard Delbrück identified

145 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 99. 146 Ibidem, p. 100; see also the argument on this point presented by BÜHL 2001, p. 199f. 147 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 100. 148 DELBRÜCK 1929, p. 91f. 149 DUNN 2014. 150 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 109.

157 this female figure as Galla Placidia, Honorius’ sister.151 If we accept that the consul on the diptych is Flavius Constantius, and that the two enthroned Emperors are Honorius and Theodosius II, then it is hard to imagine the female figure being anybody else but Galla Placidia.152 Her function may be to present the ruling dynasty reunited, or she may be included for the simply because on , 417, Galla Placidia became the wife of Flavius Constantius.153 While the consular/patrician and imperial scenes are conceived vertically, frontally, and symmetrically, the lower registers are more dynamic, depicting male, female, and children’s figures on a diagonal. The figures are shown from different angles and in motion, actively communicating with each other. One of the male figures in the central register even turns his head to the honorand, and sets his shield towards him. These figures’ costumes and hairstyles have been identified as “barbaric”, perhaps universally so rather than representing any specific ethnic group. But elsewhere the depictions are clearer: the three men in the lower register sporting long, straight beards and cap-shaped, straight hair which is then curled over ears and neck, the two figures standing by the honorand in the central register (the man on the left in each panel), and an armed guard in the upper registers, are all supposed to represent Germans.154 Richard Delbrück has interpreted the lower registers as a scene from the circus. In these events, defeated enemies were paraded before the Emperor as a part of an imperial triumph.155 According to Delbrück, the mappae, held by the consul and one of the men accompanying him, are elements in just such an event.156 But not all agree that these “barbaric” scenes are set in a circus, and Cecilia Olovsdotter thinks that this is rather a symbolic scene, an image of imperial unity rather than the record of a historical event.157 What is more, the submissio theme could not appear on a consular diptych, since in the Roman world, only a victorious Emperor could celebrate his victory in an official image. On the Halbertstadt Diptych, Flavius Constantius is but a mediator between the defeated “barbarians” and a semi-divine sphere of Emperors and goddesses. As in the famous Barberini Diptych, the upper register represents a supreme power that acts through a mediator in the central panel in order to achieve what is shown below – a military victory [Fig. 91]. Just as Christ encourages the Emperor on the Barberini diptych, the Emperors on the Halberstadt Diptych (supported by the goddesses of the Rome and Constantinople) order Constantius to conquer in their name.158 On this diptych, Flavius

151 DELBRÜCK1929, pp. 40, 87, 91f; VOLBACH 1976, p. 42; ENGEMANN 1999, pp. 164–167; OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 115; cfr. CAMERON 1998, pp. 389, 398. 152 The other suggestion is the personification of Concordia firstly proposed by KOLLWITZ 1941, p. 34. Cfr. CAMERON 1998, pp. 389, 398. 153 For the sources on the marriage of Constantius and Placidia see OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 118. 154 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 23. 155 DELBRÜCK 1929, p. 88; p. 115. 156 Ibidem, p. 88. 157 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p.116. 158 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, pp. 146–147.

158

Constantius celebrates the fact that he is patrician and consul, and is depicted as an agent for imperial victory and unity, and for the newly re-established security of the Roman Empire. But the presence of the Emperors in the upper registers reminds us who the real winners are. The viewer is led to believe that Constantius deserved credit for a victory, which, like all victory and subjugation, belongs to the Emperor.159 The only victory which could explain not only the presence of Galla Placidia on the Halberstadt Diptych, but also the diptych’s “reunion” of the Emperors of East and West and the subjugation of “barbarians” in its lower registers, was won in 416 when Flavius Constantius, as commander in the West (magister utriusque militia), forced the Visigoths to capitulate. This occurred in 415, after the death of Athaulf, the husband of Galla Placidia. became King of the Visigoths but, unlike his predecessor, could not withstand Roman military pressure. Wallia concluded a peace treaty with the Romans, according to which he returned the widowed Galla Placidia to her brother Honorius. To make things even sweeter for Honorius, the usurper Priscus Attalus, who had twice attempted to take Honorius’ throne (409 and 414, the second time with the support of the Visigoths), was captured.160 It is likely that the Halberstadt Diptych is recalling this victory over the Visigoths, because its “barbarians” seem to be dressed in a western fashion: rich ornaments on the men’s tunics, jewellery and almost courtly clothes on the women, who have covered hair and plump children – these were the signs of wealth and prosperity associated with high social status in the West. The cap-shaped and straight-haired coiffures and long, straight beards of the male figures are, nevertheless, typical pictorial characteristics of Germans. Cecilia Olovsdotter thinks that they could be western “barbarians” already assimilated into Roman society. This would fit the Gallic Visigoths, opponents of Honorius and Flavius Constantius in the struggle for sovereignty in the West in the years between Flavius Constantius’ two consulates.161 One last interesting feature of the Halberstadt Diptych deserves our attention, namely the resemblance of the Western Emperor and the Consul. It is most obvious on the left, where the honorand is portrayed as a patrician. Here, the honorand’s dress and gesture are identical to the Emperor’s; even the segmentum on the honorand’s chlamys is similar in size and design to that of Honorius. This similarity suggests that Flavius Constantius was awarded a particularly high position within the western courtly hierarchy. Cecilia Olovsdotter sees similarities in the shape of the face and hair as well, and thinks that this physical similarity may be there to assert not just equal political and social status for the two men, but even a kind of familial connection, as if Flavius somehow shared in Honorius’ divinity.162 Flavius Constantius was an active and successful partner of the Emperor, and

159 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 191. 160 LÜTKENHAUS 1998, pp. 85–93, 133; OLOVSDOTTER, p. 118. This interpretation was proposed by ENGEMANN 1999, pp. 165–167. For more about the period preceding the second consulship, see DUNN 2014. KULIKOWSKI 2007, pp. 182–183. 161 LÜTKENHAUS 1998, pp. 76–93; OLOVSDOTTER 2005, p. 147. 162 OLOVSDOTTER 2005, pp. 117–118.

159 benefited from one of the most important features of later imperial government. As mentioned above, the role of the Emperor had changed by the late fourth century, when children incapable of commanding the imperial armies were set upon the throne. The military functions which had once been exclusively the emperor’s were fulfilled by powerful generals, the the Emperor's role became, above all, a ceremonial one.163 The Roman poet Claudian testifies to this fact by emphasizing the sacred aura surrounding the Emperor Honorius when he arrived in Milan in 398. Claudian compares this juvenile Emperor with the divine son of Memphis.164 As Honorius grew into adulthood and yet remained a passive figure (at least with regard to the army), his religious and ceremonial functions remained. The Diptych of Anicius Probus from 406, which depicts not a consul but Honorius himself, is visual evidence of this fact [Fig. 92]. Most relevant is an inscription above the Emperor: IN NOMINE XPI VINCAS SEMPER (“may you always conquer in the name of Christ”). The reference to Christian victory makes this diptych unique, since the consular diptychs of the time were exclusively secular in nature.165 Like the Halberstadt Diptych, the Diptych of Probus probably commemorated a specific event, perhaps Stilicho’s victory over Radagaisus in the late summer of 406. Stilicho was the commander, but Honorius the victor.166 The Diptych of Probus gives a traditional portrayal of the Emperor as victor, even though Honorius never participated in military action. Others led the armies in Honorius’s name, but God’s will was fulfilled first by the Emperor, and only through him by the army and its generals. Victories reinforced the Emperor’s divinity, and it seems that both the Emperor and his generals understood the benefits of this arrangement for all concerned.

Summary

Ravenna became one of the most important centres of Late Antiquity in 402, not as the result of a desperate escape from Milan, but as the result of a deliberate decision by the Emperor Honorius and/or his powerful general Stilicho to move the imperial residence to this port city on the Adriatic. At the same time, however, Rome began to re-acquire importance. The imperial family, even though its residence was now in Ravenna, showed greater interest in Rome than in Ravenna, since Rome’s ancient traditions and symbolic importance were now useful in a competition between the two halves of the Empire. The absence of written and visual documentation of the move to Ravenna probably reflects the imperial court’s lack of enthusiasm for the enterprise. The central place of Rome in imperial ideology is demonstrated by the consecration of churches in honour of Roman saints, and by the fact that Honorius had his dynastic mausoleum built adjacent to St. Peter’s basilica in Rome. It was Milan, however, which provided relics for the new churches built in Ravenna, since at that

163 See, most comprehensively, McEVOY 2013/2. 164 Claudian, IV Cons, col. 603. 165 CAMERON 2007, p. 193. 166 Ibidem, 191–202.

160 time, the Milanese bishopric exercised ecclesiastical authority Northern Italy. In their architectural form, decoration, and dedications, those churches referred back to Milan, the former sedes imperii. The political context of the first years of imperial residence in Ravenna is superbly reflected in the Halberstadt Diptych, which probably celebrates a victory over the Visigoths. The warlike appearance of the western goddesses depicted on this ivory, and the imperial insignia in their hands, reveal the strained and unstable relations between the two parts of the Roman Empire at the time. The diptych’s iconography also reflects the real role of the Emperor of this time: he held symbolic power, while the government of the western half of the Empire was in the hands of powerful generals, who won or lost battles for the Emperor, with God’s blessing. The Halberstadt Diptych is probably the earliest example of consular diptych, which is not only an expression of the political power of an individual, but also an official image of the Roman Empire. A consul’s triumph and victory become a triumph and victory for the empire, his wealth a promise of general bounty and prosperity. Flavius Constantius issued the Diptych in 417 at the start of his second consulate, and it shows that he had been granted an even greater honour than the consulate: marriage to the Emperor's half-sister, Galla Placidia. Honorius feared that his widowed sister would become a weapon against him if married to a rival, and provide that rival a means for reducing the power of Flavius Constantius, a man who had won his status through merit. Nor did Honorius have a successor, and if such a successor was to be born of Galla, Flavius Constantius would make a suitable father. Galla Placidia’s presence on the Halberstadt Diptych perfectly logical, given this situation. The birth of Placidius Valentinian in 419 promised a continuation of the stability that Flavius Constantius had brought the Empire. In 420, Flavius Constantius was appointed to an unprecedented third consulate, and on February 8, 421, Honorius proclaimed Flavius Constantius his Co-Augustus. It appeared that these two middle-aged Emperors, with military victories behind them, would bring a period of stability to the West, and that their legitimate successor would enable that stability to survive them. However, in September 421, less than seven months after his election, Flavius Constantius fell ill and died, and his death ended the decade of stability he had brought to the West.167

167 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 215.

161

162

VALENTINIAN III (425–455)

After the death of Constantius (421) and subsequent alleged disputes with Honorius, Galla Placidia with her children found refuge at the court of Theodosius II in Constantinople.1 After the death of Honorius in August 423, the eastern Emperor probably wanted to the whole Roman Empire on his own. He therefore decided not to appoint his co-augustus but only a western consul, patricius .2 Their deal, however, was soon broken and Castinus helped the usurper John, former primicerius notariorum. It had to be a clear sign for Theodosius that the presence of a member of the imperial family in the West was necessary. From the perspective of Theodosius, the installment of six-year-old Valentinian was, it seems, the safest solution to gain control over the western part of the Empire.3 Therefore, at the end of 424, Theodosius II decided to restore the legitimate power of the Theodosian dynasty in the West and he dispatched a successful military expedition to depose John.4 The appointment of Valentinian III was not only a victory over the usurper John, but it was also an effort to resolve the unstable relations between East and West that were characteristic for Honorius’ reign. With Valentinian III and his mother, Galla Placidia, i.e. with the return of the legitimate rulers of the West in 425, Ravenna came into a period Vincenza Zangara described by the term “clima di rinnovamento”.5 Relations between the Emperors of the West and the East changed during the reign of Valentinian III so radically that it is impossible not to introduce the fundamental historical reasons that made of Ravenna, at least for a certain period, a real “outpost” of Eastern Empire. When the art historical literature emphasizes the artistic relations with Constantinople in the fifth century, it is precisely the ruling period of Valentinian III, when it is legitimate to aim our attention within study of Ravenna’s monuments toward the East. Artistic patronage of the Emperor and his mother, the legendary Galla Placidia, thus will be reconsidered as a part of the widely revised historical context. In it, the monument’s interpretations can acquire deeper meaning. In addition to the reasons that led to more intense artistic exchanges between Ravenna and Constantinople, it is necessary to continue in studying Ravenna’s monuments in the context of the growing interest of the Emperor in Rome and in the context of his relations with the Roman bishop, as well as in the context of the rise of Ravenna’s Church, at that time gaining in importance having received metropolitan rights.

1 It happened probably by the end of 422 or at the beginning of 423. For more about the intrigues on the imperial court leading to expel of Galla Placidia and her children see MATTHEWS 1975, p. 378. 2 McEVOY 2013/2, pp. 228–229. 3 VAN NUFFELEN 2013, p. 150. 4 Detailed description of the military action in McEVOY 2013/2, p. 231. 5 ZANGARA 2000, p. 275.

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Ravenna after 425

The year of the installation of the young Valentinian on the western throne can be seen as a newly legitimized alliance after a period of instability. Nonetheless, it seems that this was not an alliance of two equal parts of the Roman Empire, but rather a securing of eastern control over the West. This view is certainly necessary to consider in the context of historiography and to realize that we are informed about the events of the years 424–425 mainly due to . The years are a culmination of his Historiae, which he dedicated to Emperor Theodosius II, at whose court the historian worked. The text itself is not preserved, but it has been revised by several later authors, such as Zosimos.6 From the perspective of a historian at the service of the East, these years were perceived as a change of fortune, which came after years of tension, as a triumph of the East over the West.7 Olympiodorus introduced Theodosius as a wise ruler who took all of his actions with great deliberation, in contrast to the Western government, which had been destroyed by internal conflicts for decades. Valentinian with his sister and mother returned to Ravenna by order of Theodosius, and therefore only to him Valentinian could be grateful for the imperial title. Of course, Olympiodorus’ view is necessarily biased, describing rather the triumphant gaining of control of the East over the West after years of instability than reality. He projected his ideological view into his stories yet the source remains an important one for us because it shows how Eastern elites understood themselves.8 Despite the caution with which we have to approach the text of Olympiodorus, recent studies of Andrew Gillet, Maeghan McEvoy or Peter Van Nuffelen actually confirm that Valentinian III should not have been an equal ruler, a legitimate successor of the Western-Roman Emperor but he should have been understood rather as an eastern nominee.9 This fact is evidenced by another source, this time by visual evidence, independent of Olympiodorus. It is the coins minted in Constantinople after Valentinian’s proclamation as in Thessaloniki in 424, which immediately preceded the subsequent military action. They represent an older sitting augustus (Theodosius II) and junior standing caesar (Valentinian III). It is one of the first pieces of visual evidence of Theodosius’ future political aspiration: the decision to make firstly Valentinian caesar and his superior appearance on the coin is a demonstration of the dependence of western government on the Eastern.10 Another proof that 425 was mainly an eastern victory is the great celebrations in Constantinople and minting of coins on this occasion. Although at the moment the two augusti are standing,

6 Zosimos, Hist. nov. For a critical evaluation of the source, see esp. GILLET 1993 and VAN NUFFELEN 2013, pp. 132–133. 7 VAN NUFFELEN 2013, p. 131. 8 Ibidem, p. 134. 9 GILLET 1993, p. 20; McEVOY 2013/2, p. 233; VAN NUFFELEN 2013, p. 141. 10 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 230-231

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Valentinian as Emperor of the West is still a bit smaller. We are dealing with a similar visual rhetoric that we have already seen in the case of Halberstadt diptych, where, however, the relationship between the Emperors of the East and the West was still the opposite. Not only the above-mentioned military action testifies to the decision of Theodosius to take control over the events in the West, but also the engagement of his daughter Licinia Eudoxia with the new ruler of the West. Theodosius policy was in fact built primarily on the belief that Theodosian dynasty could not be disturbed by an external danger brought to the dynasty through the marriage policy. The two weddings of Emperor Honorius with the daughters of Stilicho and Serena and the marriage of Galla Placidia with Athaulf and Constantius were a deterrent example for Theodosius as they led to the destabilization of power in the West. Theodosius was convinced that only closed dynasty was able to bring stability to the Empire. This is evidenced by his own behavior and the behavior of his three sisters, , Arcadia and Marina. Theodosius himself married the daughter of a professor of rhetoric in Athens, which in terms of policy was a meaningless figure, and his sisters consecrated themselves to virginity. This fact seems to be not just a matter of religion, but also a matter of deliberate policy of Theodosius. With the words of Peter van Nuffelen, “his [Theodosius’] virgin sisters were not available, and he himself married a complete outsider”.11 Valentinian’s triumphant return after being betrothed to Licinia Eudoxia could also be seen as further evidence of aiming of Theodosius’ policy he established also in the West.

Eastern Elites in the West

The triumph of the eastern part of the Empire was not only of symbolic value, but it brought also the practical aspects. Above all, it is certain that the Eastern army as well as the leaders and officials of eastern court had to stay in the West, probably in Ravenna, until it was certain that the new government was stable and that the military leadership was secured. Theodosius’ success in enforcement of his interests in the West meant a continued unity of the Roman Empire, but also the domination of the eastern court over the West. Therefore, the power could not be immediately after the reaching the target left solely in the hands of the child-Emperor and his mother, whose background in the West was not yet stable at this moment. Certain signs of independence of Valentinian in political affairs can be traced back to the , but especially to the time after the death of Emperor Theodosius II in 450;12 up to the

11 VAN NUFFELEN 2013, p. 137. 12 McEVOY 2013/2, pp. 287–289.

165 moment, the interventions in the management of the western part of the Roman Empire were, from the Theodosius’ point of view, necessary to maintain his goals.13 Namely, the presence of eastern elites can be testified by western consulate of Ardabur Aspar in 427. He was one of the three generals who were entrusted with the command of the army in the act of installing Valentinian on the throne; with him it is also necessary to consider the presence of the eastern military contingent.14 Furthermore, it is very likely that a team of the Eastern officials arrived from Constantinople along with military expedition. Among them there was certainly responsible for establishing the new government administration and legislation. Furthermore, it was Helion, eastern and Theodosius’ agent who was tasked with formal declaration of Valentinian in Thessaloniki as caesar (424) and later in Rome as augustus (425), possibly Flavius Felix, who soon would gain a significant position of magister militum, but also many others who made up the entourage of these prominent personalities. Some of them could stay a long time in the West, while others stayed there only briefly, all dependent on the tasks that they had to fulfill in the name of the Eastern emperor.15 For these reasons, it is possible to assume with great certainty the actual presence of the Eastern elites at the court of Emperor Valentinian III in Ravenna, at least in the second half of the 420s and in the 430s when the young Emperor is under the regency of his mother Galla Placidia, and when his stays in Ravenna are certainly documented in written sources. The presence of prominent representatives of the eastern court in Ravenna may, at least partially, explain relations of artistic production between the two parts of the Roman Empire, so often described in the art historical literature. During their stay, they indicated the direction of artistic production, they were initiators and mediators of mutual artistic exchanges and commissioners of luxury artefacts produced in response to their taste and contemporary fashion of Constantinople.

Galla Placidia

Control of the eastern emperor over the formation of a new government in the West is more logical and easier to imagine than the traditionally accepted view that, at least for first twelve years of Valentinian’s reign, it was Galla Placidia (388?–450)16 who effectively ruled the Western Roman Empire. Even the most recent biographical

13 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 234. 14 BAGNALL 1987, p. 402–403. 15 McEVOY, pp. 232–242. 16 The bibliography on Galla Placidia is vast, see especially: SIRAGO 1961 reviewed by RUGGINI 1962; OOST 1968; MAZZOLANI 1975; CAFFIN 1977; COLLACI 1995; SIRAGO 1996 (a revised and abbreviated version of SIRAGO 1961); HARLOW 2004; CONNOR 2004, esp. pp. 64–72; GOURDIN 2008; SIVAN 2011; McEvoy 2013/2, pp. 234–239; SALISBURY 2015.

166 work of the Empress by Joyce Salisbury (2015) describes the importance of the Empress with words:

“The changed Empire that emerged in the fifth century was shaped by Placidia’s guiding hand.”17

The same author attributes to Galla Placidia a certain influence on battles and theological disputes,18 introducing the Visigoths to the use of Roman law19 and enhancing the supremacy of the pope in the 440s.20 Historiography created the legendary figure, pious governess and supporter of the Church, wise and powerful ruler, whose fame could eclipse even a memory of her brother Honorius and her son Valentinian. There is no doubt Galla Placidia was an interesting and powerful woman who played an important role in actual political and theological disputes as well as being an important reminder of the previous legitimate government and probably also of military successes of her second husband and father of the new Emperor. Her presence had to provide the western elites a security especially at a time when eastern bureaucrats as well as soldiers were present in the West. She was also the only adult representative of the Theodosian dynasty; it is not therefore surprising that her role was so emphasized. As a daughter, sister, wife and mother of Roman emperors, her opportunities to be part of power structures were certainly huge. However, it is necessary to question that all power over the West could have been in their hands. First of all, we should keep in mind that the imperial consistory, where all the important decisions of government took place, was completely inaccessible for women. Although it is undeniable that, as Pulcheria in the East, she had a considerable influence on the Emperor, we should understand it only on a personal level. Stewart Irwin Oost in his biography of Empress from 1968 much more precisely expressed the role that Galla Placidia held in newly established government:

“There was no real departure of policy, no novelties or signs of original statesmanship; the Empress participated actively, and frequently decisively (...) but one can hardly state that she decisively altered, or affected, the fate of the Roman state or society. It seems not unfair to conclude that she tried mainly to conserve; to conserve both imperial power and Empire for her son.”21

Galla Placidia’s actual role within the Western imperial court was symbolic

17 SALISBURY 2015, p. 2. 18 Ibidem. 19 Ibidem, pp. 81-82. 20 Ibidem, p. 177. For a similar conviction about unlimited power of Galla Placidia, see recently e.g. SOTIRA 2014, p. 239 (“Cio si riscontra proprio in epoca placidiana, dopo che, alla morte di Onorio, il potere, di fatto passo nelle mani dell'Augusta, che fu presente a Ravenna alla corte del fratello subito dopo il matrimonio con Costanzo (417–421) e che ivi regno per venticinque anni come imperatrice reggente in luogo del figlio Valentiniano III ancora bambino (…)”.) 21 OOST 1968, p. 209.

167 and ceremonial. Her interest in church policy was not exceptional but fully corresponded to the traditional field of the activity of the imperial women in the Late Antiquity. Surviving correspondence and artistic patronage are evidences of this fact. 22 As the most interesting visual evidence of the atmosphere of expectation that occurred after return of the Theodosian dynasty to the West, one of Ravenna’s churches that can be with all certainty attributed to the patronage of Galla Placidia is considered: the church of St. John the Evangelist.

Church of Saint John the Evangelist

In the literature, the church of St. John the Evangelist is presented as evidence witnessing the position of Ravenna’s church architecture between the Latin West and the Byzantine East. As already mentioned in the first chapter of this work dedicated to the architecture, St. John the Evangelist is a place where the elements of Eastern and Western Roman tradition interfere.23 I tried to explain their appearance by architectural and stonemason practice of Late Antiquity on one hand, on the other by the real presence of members of the eastern court in Ravenna. Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann saw a direct connection with Constantinople in the function of the church of St. John the Evangelist itself. The author suggested that it might be a palace’s basilica, which accepted Constantinopolitan, not only architectural but also urban, models and suggested a comparison with martyrion of Saint John the Theologian in Hebdomon. According to Deichmann, the basilica corresponds to the same concept of Constantinople, not only with its dedication, but also with its location near the Imperial Palace and the harbor, which is associated with the cult of John the Evangelist as the protector of sailors.24 However, we do not have a lot of evidence to describe with certainty the church as the “Palace’s church”.25 In the present chapter, which aims to see how the political interests of patrons interweave with the artistic production of late antique Ravenna, it is necessary to pay particular attention to the interpretation of lost mosaic decoration because it can help us to better understand the political strategy of Theodosian dynasty that from the time effectively controlled the western part of the Roman Empire. The legendary event that stands behind the Empress’ decision to build a church dedicated to the St. John the Evangelist took place during her return journey

22 HARLOW 2004, p. 138. The most comprehensive work on the role of imperial women is ANGELOVA 2015. 23 DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 93–124; FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1995/2; ZANGARA 2000; RUSSO 2005, pp.104–114; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 63–70; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 91–101. 24 For more about the cult of St. John the Evangelist, see DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 96-97; ORSELLI 2001, p. 194. For a discussion on the location of the church, see DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 97-98. 25 ZANGARA 2000, pp. 278-279.

168 from Constantinople with the army in the 425.26 Galla Placidia with her children, Valentinian and Iusta Grata, was rescued by St. John the Evangelist from the sea storm for a vow to build a temple dedicated to him. We do not know exactly when this church situated near a small harbor in the northeast corner of the city, was built, but it is likely that it was shortly after the Empress’ return to Ravenna.27 The church was rebuilt many times, the original decoration was removed in 1568 and during the Second World War it was seriously damaged during the bombing.28 The lost mosaic, however, was possible to reconstruct with help of written sources29 and with help of the reconstructions made by Corrado Ricci and Giuseppe Bovini [Fig. 93].30 The event, when St. John saved Galla Placidia and her children from the sea storm was represented on the triumphal arch31 accompanied with central representation of Christ giving a book to John surrounded by the sea, palms and seven candelabra from Revelation.32 On the soffit of the arch there were the portraits of Emperors in medallions – Constantinus, Theodosius, Arcadius, Honorius, Theodosius nep, Valentinianus, Gratianus, Constantius, Gratianus nep, Ioannes nep – representing a genealogical line of the previous eastern and western rulers.33 The decoration of the basilica continued in the apse, where Christ surrounded by twelve books and one book with verse from the Gospel of Matthew (5.7) was shown. Under him, probably just above a row of windows, the main dedicatory inscription said:

“The empress Galla Placidia with her son Emperor Placidus Valentinian and her daughter Empress (Iusta) Grata Honoria fulfil their vow to the holy and most blessed apostle John the Evangelist for their deliverance from danger at sea.”34

At the very liturgical space the central figure was serving Mass in the presence of an angel and four Eastern rulers; Theodosius II and his wife

26 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch.42. For the sources, see DEICHMANN 1974, p. 94. 27 The church was probably consecrated on February 24, 433 (ORIOLI 2000). 28 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 63. 29 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, chs 27 and 42; Tractatus edificationis et cunstructionis eclesie sancti Iohannis evangeliste de Rauenna and Item dedicatione ecclesie sancti Iohannis auangeliste is preserved in the fifteenth-century Codex Estensis, fol. 44v-47r, published and translated in PIERPAOLI 2000; ROSSI 1572, pp. 101 ff. For discussion on the sources, see DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 108–111; ZANGARA 2000, p. 276. 30 RICCI 1937, p. 36, fig. 71; BOVINI 1955, p. 59. 31 Accompanying inscription: “Galla Placidia Augusta pro se et his omnibus votum solvit”, in ZANGARA 2000, p. 284. 32 Accompanying inscription: “Amore Christi nobilis et filius tonitrui Sanctus Johannes arcana vidit”, in ZANGARA 2000, p. 282. 33 Girolamo Rossi is the only author who lists all the figures on the fringe of the triumphal arch. For the reliability of the source, see PAWLAK 2005, p. 237. 34 “Sancto ac beatissimo apostolo Iohanni evangelistae Galla Placidia augusta cum filio suo Placido Valentiniano augusto et filia sua (Iusta) Grata Honoria augusta liberationis pericul(or)um maris votum solvunt”. Lat. cit. in ZANGARA 2000, pp. 281–282, English translation from DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 68. Under the row of windows there is another dedicatory inscription: “Confirma hoc, Deus, quod operatus es in nobis; a templo tuo in Ierusalem tibi offerent reges munera”. ZANGARA 2000, p. 288.

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Eudocia and Arcadius and Eudoxia, Theodosius’ parents.35 Individual attempts to interpret the decoration led scholars to an unambiguous conclusion: the main interpretative framework of iconography of the Basilica of San John the Evangelist is the emphasis on divine power bestowed to the Emperors, thus on the legitimacy of their power. The church also highlights the piety of the imperial dynasty and its connection with the orthodox Church. San Giovanni Evangelista, according to traditional interpretations, provided to Galla Placidia a space to show her own piety, gratitude, but also a space to express her own program of her government.36 This patronage is therefore often seen as a conscious act of Galla Placidia, as a demonstration of her son’s power in the West, as a victory over the usurper, the legendary scenes from the sea can then be understood as a symbolic representation of the perilous journey to the western imperial throne. As already mentioned, there is no doubt that the patronage the churches and cooperation with the Church was indeed the domain of Galla Placidia, as well as of the other imperial women of Late Antiquity. The Church of St. John the Evangelist should have been a demonstration of the newly established power in the West, however, one aspect of the mosaic leaves the viewer in no doubt who is the real ruler of the Roman Empire. It is a depiction of the imperial figures in the main part of the apse and therefore in the center of the whole church, who assist the Mass celebrated by Peter Chrysologus. Such a dominant representation of Arcadius, Eudocia, Theodosius and Eudoxia, therefore only of the rulers of the East, is without doubt an openly eastern aspect of the entire iconographic program of the mosaics and it is another evidence that it was necessary to publicly show gratitude of the government of Valentinian III to the Eastern Empire. Successio imperatorum of the triumphal arch, where the Emperors of the West are also present, forms the background to the new western ruler and demonstrates the continuity coming from God, but above all in agreement with the Eastern Empire. Friedrich Wilhelm Deichmann noticed that the medallions depict only those rulers who were guarantors of orthodoxy, while Valens, Valentinian II and Constantius II, whose orthodoxy was at least questionable, are not there.37 The depiction of the Emperors in the medallions as part of the decoration of a church of St. John the Evangelist is, according to Deichmann, the first known example of this iconography.38 Raffaela Farioli Campanati however, presents only a little younger example from Constantinople, from the reign of Emperor Leo I (457–473), which was

35 ZANGARA 2000, pp. 289–292 proposes that the main figure in the apse could be Melchizedek rather than Peter Chrysologus, as in the case of San Vitale and Sant’Apollinare in Classe. Nonetheless, as DELIYANNIS 2010 on p. 329, n. 163 points out, Melchizdek has never been behind the bishop’s throne and he is always in a specific context. 36 ZANGARA 2000, p. 297; Angelova 2015, pp. 224–262. 37 DEICHMANN 1974, p. 114–117. 38 Ibidem, pp. 116-17.

170 in the apse of the chapel of the Theotokos of Blachernae, depicting the Emperor Leo I, his wife Verina, and their sons on the sides of Mary on the throne.39 The indication nep appearing in the transcripts of the inscriptions in the case of the Emperors Gratian, Ioannes and Theodosius deserves also our attention. According to Wilhelm Ensslin it is an abbreviation of n(obilissimus) p(uer), used for the identification of the young members of the imperial family.40 Gratian nep could by identified as son of eastern Emperor (379–394) and his wife Galla, sister of western Emperor Valentinian II (375–392), who Theodosius married at the end of 387. Gratian probably born in 388 or at the beginning of 389 but he died very soon afterwards. In 394 Galla died in childbirth as well as her other son named probably John (Ioannes nep). According to majority of scholars, Theodosius nep was the deceased son of Galla Placidia and her first husband Athaulf.41 The images of three members of the imperial family who died as children who had never reigned, forming part of the genealogical line of emperors in the central area of the basilica on the triumphal arch is surprising at first glance. However, it seems that the inclusion of the two deceased brothers of Galla Placidia was a particularly good demonstration of the fact that their father, the emperor ruling in the East, Theodosius I, was the one who founded the family relations with the Western imperial family to ensure a stable government in the Roman Empire, in a similar way as Theodosius II did. The portrait of a dead son of Galla Placidia could then communicate that Galla Placidia was the mother of not one but of the two successors of the western throne.42 The efforts of Galla Placidia to recognize Theodosius as a rightful member of the imperial family were crowned in 450, when Galla Placidia exhumed the body of her son, and thirty five years after his death she transferred his remains from Spain to the imperial mausoleum in Rome, where he was solemnly interred in the presence of Valentinian and the Senate. At the end of the same year, the Roman imperial mausoleum founded by Honorius became the place of burial of Galla Placidia herself.43

Mausoleum of Galla Placidia

That Galla Placidia was buried in a Roman mausoleum and not in Ravenna is, in the current state of research, unquestionable. The reason why one of the most famous monuments of Ravenna is known as the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia is an

39 FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1991/1992, p. 147. 40 ENSSLIN 1950, p. 1915; OOST 1968, p. 274 41 OOST 1968, p. 56; AMICI 2000, p. 40. Cfr. DEICHMANN 1974, p. 114. 42 PAWLAK 2005, p. 238. 43 McEVOY 2013/1, pp. 121–123.

171 incorrect interpretation of sources in the past. Agnellus never mentioned this building in his Liber pontificalis. According to him, the Empress was buried in the so-called monasterium of Saint Nazarus by the altar44 and in the thirteenth century this space was confused with present “mausoleum”.45 The so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia was originally adjacent to the southern end of narthex of the Church of the Holy Cross [Figs 12, 14, 20]. Its construction is dated to the second phase of construction of the basilica probably on the initiative of the Empress.46 The “mausoleum” is a small cross-shaped structure built of reused as well as newly produced Roman bricks.47 The ground level was about 1,5 m lower that it is today as it is in the case of all the Ravennate strucutres. External walls are decorated with blind arcades on pilasters which is a common feature with sturctures of Milan[Figs 14, 16] and with brick cornice marks the roofline. Over the central core of the building is a square tower decorated with a marble pinecone on its top. The chapel’s walls are pierced by windows at thee levels. In the interior each crossarm is surmounted by a brick and the central space is covered by a brick dome [Fig 88]. The lower part of the walls is decorated with marble revetment reconstructed in 1898–1901 but presumably on the basis of the original decoration.48 The vaults of the arms are decorated with abstract patterns, such as grapevine or rosettes. At the centre of each side the gold male figures in dalmatica and holding a scroll stands. They could be interpreted as prophets, evangelists or apostles. At the top of each barrel vault the Chi-Rho monogram of Christ with alpha and omega is surrounded by a red and blue wreath [Fig 94]. The arches that support central tower are decorated by three dimensional pattern and leafy, fruit-filled garland rising from baksets and culminating in a gold cross in a blue medallion or by a lozenge or scale pattern [Figs 88]. The mosaics of the eastern and western lunettes are filled with scrolls and two deers standing on a narrow ground-line by a pool of water [Figs 95]. The lunette on the north arm represents Christ as a Good Sheperd in a landscape [Figs 96]. Christ’s face is beardless and young surrounded by a halo. He is dressed in a gold tunic with purple stripes and purple pallium draped across one shoulder and lap holding a long cross and feeding a sheep. The lunette has no window since it was

44 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 42. For the discussion on the location of the monasterium see JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 113–114; 240, n. 544; FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, pp. 179–180) and p. 181, n. 91 of this work with bibliography. 45 For the confusion of these structures see DELIYANNIS 2000. 46 The narthex was destroyed in 1602, the original entrance was bricked up and new doors were built in western wall. The original form was restored in 1774. The building was in ruins up to the 1870s when the restoration works began, they finished in 1901. The main publications about this building are: BOVINI 1950; DEICHMANN 1974; pp. 63-90, RIZZARDI 1996/1; DAVID 2013/2, pp. 15– 17. For summaries on the discussions, see DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 74–84; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 102– 116 and the most recently DRESKEN-WEILAND 2016, pp. 15–62. 47 VERNIA 2005, pp. 1129–1131. 48 RIZZARDI 1996/2, p. 137.

172 connected to the narthex of the Church of the Holy Cross. The chapel was accessed from the narthex from the north, so the most famous and the most discussed lunette representing a martyr, probably St. Lawrence [Figs 97],49 was located just opposite the entrance, although an altar dedicated to him was probably in the east, which corresponds to the orientation of the overall decoration, especially of the cross in the vault of the chapel [Figs 98]. St. Lawrence to the right of the window is represented as bearded with halo dressed in a striped dalmatica and white pallium. Over his right shoulder he bears a large processional cross and in his left hand he displays an open book. He approaches in a vivid movement the metal grill on wheels over a fire, an instrument of his martyrdom. To the left side of the window there is an armarium with four gospels. The upper lunettes of the central tower are filled whith male figures, probably apostles, in striped tunics and pallia with their right arms upheld. Beneath each window a pair of doves faces a small fountain or sits on the edge of a basin of water from which one of them drinks. The top of each lunette bears a representation of a scallop shell semidome in gold and white, beneath the feet of the apostles is another grapevine and a ribbon pattern surrounding the lunette [Figs 88]. The dome is decorated by background of dark blue tesserae with gold eight- pointed stars swirling in concentric circles. At the apex of the dome there is a gold cross whose long arm points toward the east side of the structure. Amid the arms of the cross there are seven stars, each in the spaces below the crossarm, and one in the upper left space which are interpreted as the seven stars of the Apocalypse.50 In the corners of the dome there are the gold winged figures of the four living creatures of the apocalypse [Figs 98]. In terms of art-history the “Mausoleum of Galla Placidia” is one of the most studied monuments of Ravenna from the beginning of its restoration in the 1870s up to now and its entirely preserved mosaic decoration always led scholars to the efforts for its unambiguous interpretation, based on the probable function of this space.51 Motives such as grapes, acanths, deers and doves as an allusion to posthumous salvation, a golden cross in the dome as a heavenly cross, but also as the Last Judgement, the second coming of Christ, Christ himself or as a symbol of salvation in general, the landscape of paradise in the scene with Christ as the good shepherd, and finally, the overall effect of nocturnal interior of the building are the arguments for the

49 Debates on the identity of the saint are summarized in MACKIE 1990 who proposed that it could be also St. Vincent of Saragossa who was martyred the same way as St Lawrence. Galla Placidia could bring his cult to Ravenna from Spain (MACKIE 1990, p. 55). The author’s assumption was not, however, followed and it has been generally accepted that the martyr is St. Lawrence. 50 RIZZARDI 1996/1, p. 122. 51 For the history of restoration works, see IANNUCCI 1996.

173 hypothesis that this decoration must be understood in the funeral context.52 The second proposed hypothesis is the possibility that it was not a burial chamber but martyrium. This hypothesis is based on an above-mentioned interpretation of the southern lunette depicting a martyr who is generally accepted as Saint Lawrence.53 This double reading of the iconography of the so-called Mausoleum of Galla Placidia is, nonetheless, currently outdated with a possibility that one function does not necessarily exclude the other: the memorial chapels of saints were often the place of funerals of prominent personalities, while the funeral chapels were often dedicated to saints.54 Even though no source provides us with any information about this building we can assume with all probability that the original dedication of the chapel was really to the martyr in the southern lunette, probably Saint Lawrence, based on several arguments. Saint Lawrence plays a major role within the whole space: as the only figure from the entire decoration he is in live motion, he is the only one with individual features, the only one looking directly into the eyes of the viewer and communicating with him.55 Ivan Foletti in his study pointed out this contrast between the iconic figures and Christ in the mausoleum and the mimetic representation of Saint Lawrence. The author explains it with a real presence of the saint in the “Mausoleum”, i.e. with a presence of Lawrence’s relics.56 According to Alžběta Filipová, it cannot be excluded that the chapel could keep the relic of the instrument of Lawrence’s martyrdom, the grill, which occupies an even more prominent place than Lawrence himself within the lunette.57 A special devotion to Saint Lawrence, a Roman martyr par excellence, was shared by the imperial dynasty in Milan and Ravenna and is explicable only by the presence of the relics of the Roman martyr in the city. Veneration of the Roman saints, patronage of the imperial family of Roman churches and more frequent stays of Emperor Valentinian III in Rome are in fact the other important points of Valentinian’s policy.

Emperor and Rome

While in the initial period of the newly established government in the West Ravenna became seat of small Valentinian and his family, as well as the members of

52 E.g. DEICHMANN 1974, p. 86–87; ANGIOLINI MARTINELLI 1996. The assumption is often based on the sarcophagi in the niches of the “mausoleum” according to tradition belonging to the Emperors even if we do not have proof of this fact. RIZZARDI 1996/2, p. 135 says that they seem to have been planned from the start for the places they now occupy. For the pinecone on the roof as funerary symbol, see MICHELINI 1996. 53 E.g. DAVID 2013/2, p. 15. 54 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 82. 55 Ibidem, p. 83. 56 FOLETTI 2013, pp. 68–71. 57 FILIPOVÁ 2017/1.

174 eastern elite, who were charged to create this government, it is possible to observe a parallel continuing and it seems that even growing focus on Rome. Emperor Valentinian III continued to use Ravenna as his residence in the 420s and 430s, while Rome served him as a site for ceremony and for cultivating relations with the aristocracy and the Church. He visited Rome regularly from 440, and moved there definitively in 450.58 Valentinian III issued a law on May 3, 440 which begins with these words:

“Our constant care for the city of Rome, which we justly venerate as the head of our empire, abides with us to such an extent, that we make wise provision in all ways for her peace and abundance”.59

For the period between 450–476 the sources actually point to Rome, not Ravenna, as the main imperial residence. Five of the last ten emperors were elected in Rome, versus four in Ravenna, but only two of them did not subsequently move their governments to Rome; as regards four of the last ten emperors, it is not even certain that they ever set foot in Ravenna.60 Firstly, the act of coronation itself, which took place in Rome and not in Aquileia where the usurper John was defeated or in Ravenna the father and uncle of the new emperor seated, deserves our attention.61 Referring to the glorious Roman history was not just a matter of rhetoric of Emperor Honorius, who sought to improve relations with the Roman aristocracy and the cooperation with the Roman bishop in a period of competition between the two parts of the Empire. From the perspective of the eastern court, the triumphal coronation of Valentinian III could also be perceived as a gesture of regeneratio imperii, nonetheless, from the time under the protection of the East.62 This is evidenced by the fact that Theodosius II had started out his journey to Rome to appoint personally Valentinian as augustus but he became ill in Thessaloniki and returned to Constantinople.63 The originally planned presence of the eastern emperor in Rome from whose hands the small Valentinian accepts the crown would have been very explicit message for the Roman audience about the superiority of eastern government over the western. The coronation of the new young emperor entirely dependent on its eastern co-ruler nevertheless, or perhaps because of it, needed to win favor with the Roman power structures. Choosing Rome for Valentinan’s coronation was therefore a

58 About the visits of Valentinian III to Rome, see HUMPHRIES 2012. 59“Urbis Romae, quam merito caput nostri veneramur imperii, in tantum nos cura non deserit, ut quieti eius atque abundantiae modis omnibus consulamus”. As Mark Humphries noted: “No idiomatic English translation can convey the rhetorical impact of placing the words urbis Romae at the beginning of the sentence”, in HUMPHRIES 2012, p. 161, note 1. 60 GILLET 2001, p. 162. 61 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 232. 62 VAN NUFFELEN 2013, p. 149. 63 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 232.

175 significant formal gesture when the new Emperor needed to impress the local population and its elites with the great ceremony. And finally, the usurper John was also declared in Rome and this memory was therefore necessary to erase.64 According to the traditional analyses, Rome declined as the imperial capital, especially after the founding of Constantinople, and began its transformation into the papal city. In this view, it would seem that fifth-century Rome was ruled by powerful popes such as Sixtus III or Leo the Great rather than by the Emperors.65 However, as the recent studies of Mark Humphries have tended to confirm, the Emperors’ activities in Rome have been downplayed for historiographical reasons. From Humphries’ analysis of Valentinian’s visits to Rome it has emerged that no other Emperor after (306–312) spent so much time in Rome. Why then, Humphries asks, have Valentinian’s visits to Rome been so neglected in historiography? Humphries found an explanation in the fact that Valentinian himself was hidden in the shadow of his more powerful contemporaries, such as his mother Galla Placidia, his eastern co-rulers Theodosius II and , the Roman bishop Leo the Great, his great general Aetius or his famous enemy Atilla. Valentinian was seen as weak and incompetent. Shortly after his death in 455, Sidonius Apollinaris called him a “semivir amens” (mad eunuch). A century later, Procopius described him as an effeminate man, dominated by his mother and “given over to the frivolous delights of sorcery and love affairs, while all around him the territory of the western empire was collapsing”.66 But it seems that it is not only Valentinian’s weak personality, which explains why the older studies have ignored his frequent presence in Rome. The fundamental problem, according to Humphries, is entrenched in the historiographical discourse, and above all in the sources on which this discourse is based. The idea of Rome as a city dominated exclusively by powerful popes was encouraged by the fact that surviving ecclesiastical documents greatly outweigh surviving secular sources, and that those secular sources which do survive are largely fragmentary or superficial.67 Mark Humphries’ and Federico Marazzi’s studies, in addition to recent archaeological research, have begun to challenge the traditional view, and they point out the need for a new analysis that gives equal weight to religious and secular spheres. This balance is essential for a comprehensive understanding of the development of late antique Rome.68 Valentinian’s regular presence in Rome from 440, and his permanent

64 McEVOY 2013/2, p. 239. 65 E.g. KRAUTHEIMER 1980, pp. 39–58; Idem 1983, p. 93. For critical reconsideration of historiography, see HUMPHRIES 2007, pp. 21–26; Idem 2012, pp. 162–163. 66 Cit. in HUMPHRIES 2012, pp. 162–163. For rehabilitation of Valentinian’s reign, see esp. McEVOY 2013/2, pp. 223–225. 67 HUMPHRIES 2007, pp. 21–26; Idem 2012, pp. 162–163. 68 Ibidem, p. 163; MARAZZi 2000, pp. 37–38.

176 residence there from 450, meant that during his reign, the city, in a very concrete sense, again became the center of power. Valentinian’s policies with respect to Rome were a continuation of the systematic efforts of his uncle Honorius. Honorius’ most important imperial act, symbolically illustrating his relationship to Rome and the emperor’s obligation to the eternal city, was the above-mentioned foundation of a dynastic mausoleum next to the Basilica of Saint Peter.69 The Emperor’s desire to be buried by Saint Peter and questions on the relationship of the Roman bishop and Emperor, in the period of Valentinian and in the context of intensifying theological disputes in the whole Church, started to be even more topical.70

Emperor versus Pope

A key role in the understanding of the interrelationships of the emperor and the bishop of Rome is played by an event of the year 445. In it there was a conviction of Gallic bishop Hilary of Arles by Roman bishop Leo the Great.71 Hilary demanded the metropolitan authority of the See of Arles over the entire Gallic episcopate and he deposed the two rivals, Celidonius, bishop of Besançon and Projectus, bishop of an unknown Gallic throne. Hilary’s ambitions were not supported by the Roman bishop: Pope Leo I reinstated both bishops, he condemned Hilary and he deprived the See of Arles of its self-proclaimed metropolitan authority. In the seventeenth novella from 445, the emperor Valentinian condemned Hilary and he did it in a way in which he definitively confirmed the Roman authority in these issues. It means that he did not only denounce the ambitions of the Gallic bishop, but he explicitly confirmed the primacy of the bishop of Rome as the highest Christian authority in the Empire. According to the Emperor, Hilary “committed [an act] both against the majesty of the Empire and against reverence for the Apostolic See”.72 This is another example of papal-imperial cooperation when pope acted with the support of the Emperor. According to Maeghan McEvoy “this coupling of the majesty of the empire and reverence for the apostolic see is an important one that already had been expressed earlier in the building of the mausoleum of Honorius adjacent to Saint Peter’s.”73 From an analysis of Valentinian’s novellas dealing with ecclesiastical issues it emerges that the imperial administration just simply did not follow the church leadership. Various laws actually restricted the social role of the Church, rather than caused an increase of its influence.74 It seems clear that while Valentinian’s regime

69 McEVOY 2013/1. 70 HUMPHRIES 2007; Idem 2012; McEVOY 2013/1, p. 133. 71 On the case of Hilary of Arles see WESSEL 2008, pp. 58–59. 72 NVal. 17.2: “his talibus et contra imperii maiestatem et contra reverentiam apostolicae sedis admissis”, cit. in McEVOY 2013/1, p. 133. 73 Ibidem, p. 133. 74 Ibidem.

177 maintained a certain independence from the Church, Leo’s acknowledgment of papal primacy, on the contrary, needed the support of the emperor, if it were to succeed. Valentinian had many opportunities to show his authority and direction of his policy based on good cooperation of Roman power structures and especially of the Church. Above all, dedications of Valentinian and Galla Placidia to Roman churches made them pious and generous patrons. The patronage of the imperial family is documented for the construction of the Church of Saint Peter in Chains, mosaics in the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem and the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls. In the latter’s basilica, together with the Basilica of Saint John in Lateran and Saint Peter in Vatican, Valentinian donated gold and silver objects.75 These all are documents testify the explicit imperial and papal cooperation and they show that the foundation of above mentioned imperial mausoleum was certainly not an isolated event. It means that while papal power actually increased during this period, this increase was, in all likelihood, supported by the imperial court and not that it was at its expense. Moreover, it is necessary to mention that the patronage of the imperial family in Rome goes far beyond architectural and artistic activities in Ravenna. Imperial-papal cooperation and Rome as a focal point of interest of Valentinian and his family was completed at the beginning of 450 with an important event. Valentinian with his family was present in the basilica of Saint Peter by vigils at the Feast of Petri. After the entrance of the imperial family into the basilica, Pope Leo and the other members of the Roman clergy begged the emperor and his family to write to eastern Emperor Theodosius II. The bishop of Rome demanded Theodosius to condemn the “robber synod” held at Ephesus in 449, to cancel its conclusions and to convene another synod.76 The preserved letters prove that the emperor, his mother and his wife complied with pope’s request. Although this episode is seen as a proof of Leo’s dominance over the weak Valentinian, it is rather probable that, as in the case of Hilary, it was a deliberate confrontation that again shows how the cooperation of the Emperor and Pope was necessary. Likewise, it points to the contradictions between East and West in theological issues. Maeghan McEvoy pays special attention to the way in which Pope Leo I presented himself on this occasion: he publicly and quite dramatically (with the tears in his eyes) showed that it is Valentinian’s matter to keep the doctrinal position of Rome.77 At the same time, Leo allowed Valentinian to show even greater authority than the actual bishop of Rome as well as moral superiority over their eastern colleague. The year 450 is also the year of the above-mentioned burial of the long-dead son of Galla Placidia and her subsequent

75 For sources see WARD-PERKINS 1984, p. 237 76 WESSEL 2008, pp. 40-42 and pp. 261–262. 77 The communications survive in the collected letters of Leo I, Epist. 55–58. The letter of Galla Placidia in particular refers to Leo’s sighs and tears as he delivered his request (Epist. 58), in the critical edition of Leo’s letters: CASULA 2002.

178 burial in Honorius’ mausoleum.78 The good relations between the emperor, the Roman aristocracy and the Roman bishop are finally confirmed by the fact that eleven years later Leo the Great was the first bishop buried by Saint Peter.79

Elevation of Ravenna’s Church

The above-described relationship of the bishop of Rome to the emperor probably led to a significant event for Ravenna’s church that occurred shortly after the return of the Theodosian dynasty to the throne of the West. This was rising of Ravenna’s Church to the status of metropolis (in an ecclesiastical sense).80 It was probably natural that provincial metropolises (in an secular administrative sense) were the “mother-churches”, because these cities were usually centres of intense social and economic activity, and therefore were likely conduits for the important Christian tasks. We do not know when exactly Ravenna acquired its metropolitan rights but it is very likely that the first bishop with the metropolitan authority was Peter Chrysologus (433–450).81 His sermon number 175, the bishop delivered in Voghenza during the consecration of Marcellinus to the episcopal see documents this.82 It seems that the emperor and pope granted this title to the bishop of Ravenna with a joint resolution despite the opposition of the bishop of Milan, whose authority was thus significantly and purposefully limited.83 The acquisition of metropolitan rights completely changed the relationship of Ravenna and Milan from the hagiographic point of view. While the period of Honorius’ reign is characterized by efforts to follow the Milan’s tradition with its martyrs and relics, along with the growth of the importance of Ravenna, it was necessary to ostensibly show Ravenna’s Church as superior, even over the so far unquestioned authority in northern Italy, Milanese Church. According to Picard an elevation of a local Church was always necessarily connected with the search for its origin.84 Nonetheless, while Picard focused on the cult of saint bishops developing in the sixth century, in the fifth century it was, according to Alžběta Filipová, still the cult of the martyrs, who were the main object of veneration. This is obvious especially when reading a Peter Chrysologus’ sermon number 128 De Natale Sancti Apolenaris,

78 McEVOY 2013/1, p. 131. 79 After 400, six burials of Roman bishops are documented in San Lorenzo fuori le mura and at the cemetery Ad Ursum Pileatum (McEVOY 2013/1, p. 131). 80 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 40. 81 PIETRI 1976, pp. 961–963; ZANGARA 2000, p. 298–304. 82 Cit. in ZANGARA 2000, p. 298. The metropolitan’s authority comprised, inter alia, supervision over the elections of bishops of subordinate dioceses, confirmation and consecration of their functions, resolution of conflicts that might occur between them and convocation of the synods. (HENNE 2008, p. 73). 83 ZANGARA 2000, p. 298. 84 PICARD 1988, p. 690.

179 which is a celebration of Saint Apollinaris as the first bishop of Ravenna:

“Blessed Apollinaris, the first in the priesthood, alone adorned this church with the exceptional honor of having one of her own martyred.”85

Chrysologus’ efforts to create a cult of this local saint in the fifth century was not successful also due to the fact that Apollinaris was not a martyr who shed his blood for Christ, but he was only a confessor. However, Petr Chrysologus tried to justify this fact:

“Let no one suppose that he is anything less than a martyr on account of his title as Confessor, since it is well known that it was God’s will that he kept returning to the contest at least on a daily basis.”86

Despite Chrysologus’ efforts Ravenna still needed a hero, a legend about a true martyr, which, however, came only after Chrysologus’ death. It was fulfilled by Saint Vitalis a “body double” of the Ambrosian saint whose relics circulated in the fifth century.87 In the legend written in the form of a letter addressed to all the bishops of Italy, Saint Vitalis was introduced as a Milanese soldier who lived in the time of and Lucius Verus. He followed his commander to Ravenna, where he was after his conversion to Christianity tortured. His body was placed in a deep pit and covered with soil and stones. His wife Valeria wanted to transfer his remains to Milan but Ravennates prevented her from doing it. On the way back to Milan, Valeria was killed. Their two sons, Gervasius and Protasius, decided to follow the martyrdom of their parents, they sold all the property of their family, and they consecrated themselves to God for ten years. After the eleventh year, they were martyred in Milan.88 According to Alžběta Filipová, a clear message stands behind the emergence and diffusion of this legend: Saint Vitalis was originally a Milanese saint but absolutely Ravennate because he was martyred in Ravenna. The absence of his body is then justified by the fact that it was buried in (an unknown) well and covered with dirt.89 This is an explicit expression of the rivalry between the two cities: without the conversion and martyrdom of Saint Vitalis in Ravenna, Milan should have never had its two saints Gervasius and Protasius. The legend wanted to place Ravenna on the higher position than Milan in the hagiographic tradition. It thus testifies the fact that

85 “Beatus Apolenaris primus sacerdotio, solus hanc ecclesiam uernaculo atque inclito martyrii honore decorauit”, in Peter Chrysologus, Ser., p. 789 (English translation from PALARDI 2004, p. 192; Latin text: 86 “Nec eum quisquam confessoris uocabulo minorem credat esse quam martyrem, quem dei nutu cotidianum et multeplicem reuersum conspicit ad agonem”, in Peter Chrysologus, Ser., p. 789 (English translation from PALARDI 2004, p. 192). 87 ROPA 1993, p. 29. 88 Cit. in FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, p. 184. 89 Ibidem. The hypothesis proposed also by LANZONI 1927, p. 727.

180

Milan and Ravenna were seen as political and religious opponents in this period.90 The legend emerged in Ravenna in the time after 450 when Valentinian definitely chose Rome as his permanent seat. In the chaotic times after the murder of Valentinian III and the sack of Rome by the Vandals in 455, the emperors ruling shortly are proved alternating between those living in Rome or in Ravenna. It is worth noticing that the emperors coming from the senatorial aristocracy and with strong ties to the Eastern Empire governed from Rome (Petronius Maximus, , Anthemius, Olybrius, Nepos), whereas the emperors coming from the military aristocracy who were themselves generals (Majorian, Libius Severus, , Romulus Augustus) chose Ravenna as their seat.91 Intensification of the cult of Saint Vitalis, a military saint, was therefore connected not only with searching origins of Ravenna’s Church but also with an increase of importance of military social class of the city which became first of all a military seat of the Empire. In the context of elevation of Ravenna’s episcopal See, also the Basilica Apostolorum (today’s Basilica of St. Francis) should be studied, according to Wilhelm Friedrich Deichmann, even if the exact date of its construction is not known.92 It could have been built during the pontificate of Peter Chrosologus (426–450) or of his successor, bishop Neon (450–473),93 who was, according to Agnellus, buried in the Basilica Apostolorum by the altar of Saint Peter.94 Agnellus was the first to use the title “Basilica Apostolorum” in his Liber pontificalis but it is very likely that the basilica was originally dedicated specifically to St. Peter and Paul95 and precisely this dedication demonstrates the new metropolitan status of Ravenna’s Church. On the one hand, it followed episcopal ideology of apostolic succession typical for the first generation of the so-called basilicae apostolorum by the end of the fourth century, on the other hand the clear orientation to Rome in the dedication to the two particular Roman saints shows that it is Rome on which Ravenna’s Church based its authority. In addition,

90 A presence of relics of another Milanese saint, Nazarius, sometime in the fifth century can be presumed due to Agnellus. In his LPR he makes several mentions of a monasterium sancti Nazarii (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, chs 42, 59, 65, 68). According to Agnellus the bishops Ursicinus, Victor and Ecclesius were buried by the altar of St. Nazarius (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 59) in the southern room flanking the apse of S. Vitale. During archaeological excavations carried out between 1911 and 1925, a space called the memoria or sacellum of Saint Vitalis, probably from the fifth century, was discovered under Justinian’s Church of San Vitale. This structure could have been originally dedicated to some of the Ambrosian saints including saint Vitalis but also probably to saint Nazarius whose memory and relics would then have been preserved in the side altar of the monumental San Vitale. In any case, this testifies that the relics of the Ambrosian saint(s) were venerated on the place from the fifth century and were held in high esteem in Ravenna even as late as the sixth century. During construction of Justinian’s Church the relics could be relocated to the room by the apse. More about monasterium in JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 113–114; 240, n. 544; FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, pp. 179–180. 91 GILLET 2001, pp. 148–155; DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 104. 92 DEICHMANN 1976, p. 309. 93 PICARD 1988, pp. 283–284. 94 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 29. 95 DEICHMANN 1976, pp. 308–318. At least from the half of the ninth century the basilica was called “San Pietro Maggiore” up to the thirteenth century when it became S. Francesco. BOVINI 1964, p. 9; VERHOEVEN 2011, p. 41.

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Agnellus’s reference to the burial of Neon by the altar of Saint Peter could mean the presence of Peter’s relics.96 Alžběta Filipová points out the fact that the reconstruction of Roman Basilica Apostolorum (today’s Church of St. Peter in Chains) took place before the middle of the fifth century, during the pontificate of Sixtus III.97 The author assumes distribution and circulation of contact relics of Peter and she proposes that an exclusive relationship of the bishop of Ravenna with the bishop of Rome could be the basis for the donation of Saint Peter’s relics.98

Summary

The reign of Valentinian III after his installment on the throne by the eastern ruler is a period of the recognition of superiority of East over West when the administration of Empire was, at least for some time, in the hands of eastern elites present at the western court in Ravenna. It seems that also due to them the flourishing sedes imperii of the West became a true metropolitan center, a meeting place for artisans of different cultures. At their initiative, the sarcophagi and architectural elements that completely match the aesthetics of Constantinople might have been produced. The lost mosaic decoration of the basilica of St. John the Evangelist can be understood as recognition of the supremacy of the East over the West as well as a proof of presence of eastern “conceptors”, although it is not necessary to deny that it was also a self-conscious act of Galla Placidia. Although the reign of Valentinian and his mother is considered to be a period of a building boom in Ravenna, it is still Rome to which the imperial family paid much more attention. In addition, the documented relations of the members of the imperial family with the Roman bishop and the joint patronage far outweigh the patronage activity in Ravenna. It seems that these positive relations led Ravenna’s Church to the status of the metropolis. The purely Roman dedication of the basilica of Sts Peter and Paul (today’s Church of Saint Francis) and possibly the donation of Peter's relics are also related to a key period in the history of the Christian doctrine which is characterized by promoting the primacy of the bishop of Rome as Petri, which reached its peak during the pontificate of the Roman bishop Leo the Great and Ravenna’s bishop Neon.

96 FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, pp. 57–58. 97 Ibidem, pp. 58–62. On Church of St. Peter in Chains in Rome see most recently BARTOLOZZI CASTI 2013. 98 FILIPOVÁ 2017/2, pp. 57–58.

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BISHOP NEON (451–473)

After Emperor Valentinian III definitively relocated his court to Rome, the bishop of Ravenna became the main authority in his city. After the death of Peter Chrysologus, it was Neon (451–473) who acceded to Ravenna’s episcopal see.1 He very much followed his famous predecessor in ecclesiastical issues, and continued to defend the autonomy of the Church in Ravenna against the other sees in Italy. He further consolidated Metropolitan authority, but also cooperated with the Emperor and the Bishop of Rome.2 Neon’s episcopate coincided with many important events in the Roman Empire. In the year of Neon’s ascension to the episcopal throne (451), a council was convened in Chalcedon to resolve the eternal theological disputes concerning Christ’s dual nature.3 The new bishop of Ravenna, as Metropolitan, had to take a clear stance in these disputes. Asserting the decisions of the Council of Chalcedon thus became a focal point of Neon’s policies, and there is evidence of this in both lost and surviving examples of his artistic patronage.

Baptistery of Neon

During the episcopate of Neon, the imperial palace in Ravenna was used only intermittently, leaving the episcopal complex as the main place of authority. Neon tried to make it equal to or even more impressive than the imperial palace.4 The episcopal properties were located near the Porta aurea, with the cathedral and baptistery at their core. It is not entirely clear when the cathedral and original baptistery were built,5 but the baptistery was certainly rebuilt and decorated under the patronage of Bishop Neon.6 This is documented by Agnellus, who mentions a lost inscription (probably) from the marble slab embedded in the opus sectile above the baptistery’s entrance.7 Under Neon, a dome of tubi fittili was built, supported with arcades incorporated into the walls of an older building. The interior was decorated

1 The Neon’s reign in 450–470 is generally accepted, nonetheless according to DELIYANNIS 2016, p. 42 these exact dates are entirely conjectural. 2 FRANTOVÁ 2014/1, pp. 147–151. 3 FESTUGIERE 1983. 4 For the episcopal complex, see WHARTON 1995, pp. 114–131; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 129–135. 5 Per Agnellus, it was built by bishop Ursus (Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 23), but the episcopate of the bishop of this name has not been pinned down. It was either 370–396 or 405–431 (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 85-86). See also pp. 132 of this work with bibliography. 6 The main studies of the Orthodox Baptistery are: KOSTOF 1965; DEICHMANN 1974, pp. 17–47; BOVINI 1974; WHARTON 1987; Eadem 1995, pp. 108–130; RIZZARDI 2005/3; PASQUINI 2005; FOLETTI 2009; DELIYANNIS 2010, pp. 88–105; MUSCOLINO/RANALDI/TEDESCHI 2011; BRANDT 2012, pp. 191–241; ANTONELLINI 2012; STURARO 2013; JÄGGI 2013/1, pp. 118– 129; IVANOVICI 2014; IVANOVICI 2016; TVRZNÍKOVÁ 2016. The most recently DRESKEN- WEILAND 2016, pp. 63–116. 7 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 28.

183 with mosaics, stucco, paint and opus sectile [Fig. 99]. The octagonal shape of the original structure is expanded on the ground level by four semi-circular niches into a plan of a square with rounded corners [Fig. 22]. The choice of the octagonal plan (the number eight) has been explained as a direct reference to baptism corresponding to the Resurrection of Christ that took place on the eighth day, and thus representing the death and rebirth of both Christ and the neophyte.8 The exterior of the structure is built of reused Roman bricks. Each side of the octagon is segmented by a blind frieze of two double-arched panels in the upper level and a large arched window beneath.9 The building is covered by a tile roof [Fig. 100]. The octagonal font that could be seen in the interior today is of later medieval origin10 whereas the original one was circular and sunken into the ground, probably coated with marble.11 We know nothing of original pavement as well as of the revetment of the lowest walls, now completely lost under the ground level. The arches of the lower arcade are filled with opus sectile decoration entirely reconstructed but presumably based on the original design of the early baptistery from around 400.12 Neither is the decoration of the absidioles preserved. Its reconstruction was suggested only on following the inscriptions quoting or paraphrasing the biblical verses above them.13 The quotation in northeast niche, speaking about Christ washing the feet of the Apostles served as a justification of linking Ravenna’s liturgy with Milanese Ambrosian rite as proposed by Ivan Foletti.14 The space above the lower arcade is covered by a mosaic pattern of golden acanthus leaves on dark blue background and by eight standing male figures in white tunics and pallia holding scrolls or books in their hands in golden medaillons over the eight columns of the baptistery, identified as

8 KOSTOF 1965, pp. 50–54. This is documented by a poem from Milan’s Baptistery, attributed to Saint Ambrose and preserved in a ninth-century codex: “The eight-sided temple has risen for sacred purposes, the eight-sided font is worthy for this task. It is seemly that the baptismal hall should arise in this number by which true health has returned to people. By the light of the resurrected Christ, who loosens the bonds of death and revives the lifeless from the tombs.” (“Octachorum s[an]c[t]os templum surrexit in usus / octagonus fons est numere dignus eo / hoc numero decuit sacri baptismalis aulam / surgere quo populus vera salus rediit / Luce resurgentis Xr[ist]i, qui claustra resovit / mortis et tumulis suscitat examines.” Cit. in JENSEN 2011, p. 197, n. 20. 9 For the analysis of the walls, see VERNIA 2009, pp. 44–73; BRANDT 2012, 210–220. About large windows of baptistery and their use within the liturgy, see IVANOVICI 2016, p. 94–96. 10 KOSTOF 1965, p. 140. 11 BRANDT 2012, p. 230. 12 JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 121, fig. 69. 13 Southwest niche: “ walking on the sea takes the hand of the sinking Peter, and with the lord commanding the wind ceased.”(Matthew 14, 29–32), southeast niche: “Blessed are those whose inequities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord has not imputed sin.”(Psalm 32, 1–2), northeast niche: “Where Jesus laid aside his clothing and put water in a basin and washed the feet of his disciples.”(John 13, 4–5) northwest niche: “He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me by still waters (Psalm 23:2). 14 By reconstructing and interpreting the lost parts of the mosaic decoration of Neon’s Orthodox Baptistery, and with information from written sources, Ivan Foletti has shown that this baptismal ritual was practiced in both cities. It was a tradition that Ravenna would stubbornly maintain despite the city’s subordination to the Church of Rome, where this ritual was never practiced (FOLETTI 2009).

184 unspecified prophets [Fig. 99].15 At the second zone, above a marble cornice at the level of the windows there are eight arches supporting the dome. The spaces that flank the windows are filled with the figures of stucco . The standing male figures are dressed similarly to the figures of the lower level in tunics and pallia and are holding either scrolls or books in their hands and can also be identified as sixteen prophets. The spaces between the pediments and the arcade are also decorated with smaller stucco figures, representing animals or figural scenes; Christ Trampling the Beasts, Traditio legis, Jonah and the Whale and Daniel in the Lion’s Den. Spiro Kostof, Annabel Jane Wharton and Ivan Foletti identified the scenes in direct relation to the baptismal liturgy and its preceding catechetic instruction.16 The decoration of the cupola consisted of three zones of concentric circles: the lowest band with alternating thrones and altars, the middle zone with a procession of the Apostles bearing crowns, and a central medallion with an image of the Baptism of Christ, the letter much restored by Felice Kibel in the 1850s [Fig. 101].17 What role the architectural form and mosaic decoration played within the ritual of Baptism is the main focus of the scholars since the great monograph of Spiro Kostof in 1965.18 The lower zone of the Baptistery was a place where the real mystery of the baptism of catechumens was enacted, the row with thrones and altars then form a passage between the terrestrial and celestial zones where the heavenly prototype of baptism took place, accompanied by the procession of the Apostles.19 Following Kostof’s interpretation Ivan Foletti suggests a new explanation of the empty thrones. He draws his attention on the liturgical act of feet washing, when the newly baptized was supposed to be seated on an empty throne in one of the apses.20 The author based his hypothesis on the archetype of ancient thronosis which united the baptisand with the divine. The representation of empty thrones would thus refer both to unimaginable God, the bishop, whose throne was to be found below, and the catechumen, sitting on the throne in the moment when his or her feet were being washed by the bishop.21 The gemmed golden crowns in the hands of the apostles from the cupole are also intended to reward the newly baptised [Fig. 65].22 And finally, the central medallion in the apex of the cupola is showing the culmination of the ritual – baptism of Christ itself in the presence of another male figure identified by an inscription as a personification of the river Jordan. Once again this image has been

15 KOSTOF 1965, p. 65, n. 34 . 16 Ibidem 1965; WHARTON 1987; FOLETTI 2009. 17 DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 98. 18 KOSTOF 1965. 19 Ibidem, p. 82. 20 FOLETTI 2009, p. 140. That the episcopal throne was posed in the Baptistery’s eastern niche was proposed also by WHARTON 1987, p. 364. 21 FOLETTI 2009, pp. 142–143. 22 WHARTON 1987, pp. 374–375; WHARTON 1995, pp. 125–126.

185 interpreted as not only a biblical scene but as a image of what was happening bellow. The dove and the laying of John the Baptist’s hand on Christ’s head refer to the real moment of immersion of initiate. At the same time it proclaims the power of the bishop as being the descendant of John the Baptist [Fig. 102].23 The great studies of the Baptistery of Orthodox initiated by Spiro Kostof have recently been developed even further by Veronika Tvrzníková.24 The author offers an alternative perspective with a focus not only on ritual setting of baptism but she presented how the ritual was formed by numerous constitutive elements that affected all of the baptisand’s senses where the decoration was only one of them. Baptistery has thus started to be regarded as a space shaped by the baptisand’s full-body experience with activation of all his or her senses.25 The Neon’s decision to rebuilt entirely the baptistery as well as certain features of its decoration came only few years after the same idea of bishop of Rome Sixtus III (432–440). In Rome Constantine had built a five-aisled Lateran basilica with a freestanding baptistery on a central ground plan near the basilica’s main northern entrance. Constantine’s Baptistery was rebuilt by Bishop Sixtus III (432-440), who converted it to an octagonal building with a spacious ambulatorium and a central dome, and Sixtus’ project may have spurred Neon to rebuild his baptistery at Ravenna.26 Spiro Kostof saw in the two projects of bishops of Ravenna and Rome an evidence of rivalry between the two sees.27 Following lines analysing in detail Neon’s artistic patronage will, nonetheless, aim to propose the exact opposite. The fact that part of Neon’s new baptistery was a nod towards Rome, fits with what we know of his ecclesiastical politics. Ravenna’s bishop, as a Metropolitan, was inevitably a major player in theological disputes that culminated during his episcopate. Neon’s artistic patronage reflected his loyalty to the Bishop of Rome, Leo the Great, and took into account the determinations of the Council of Chalcedon, held in 451. Let us look at that historical and theological context before examining a few more individual works of art.

The Theological Dispute concerning Christ’s Dual Nature

The Christological controversy which culminated in the Council of Chalcedon in 451 arose after the appointment of of Antioch (381–451) to the See of Constantinople by Emperor Theodosius II (408–450) in 428. Nestorius’ first sermons,

23 WHARTON 1995, pp. 122–123 24 TVRZNÍKOVÁ 2016. 25 See also IVANOVICI 2014 and 2016. 26 WHARTON 1995, pp. 109; BRANDT 2006. 27 KOSTOF 1965, p. 43.

186 promoting Christological views held by many thinkers from his native Syria, set off a great theological debate.28 According to his opponents, Nestorius did not accept that the Virgin Mary was Theotokos because for him, it diminished Christ’s divinity. He considered Mary the mother of only the human part of Jesus’ nature.29 This claim was declared heretical by Cyril (412–444), of Alexandria, and he wrote the so- called Twelve Anathemas as a formulation of orthodoxy against Nestorius. At the request of Cyril, (422–432) convoked the in 431.30 The result was the condemnation of this heresy and the declaration that Jesus was one, not two separate people, and thus that Nestorius was in error. Christ was entirely God and entirely human, with soul and body; hence, two substances mutually inseparable.31 Mary is then Theotokos, because she gave birth to Christ – to God and also to a person.32 After being condemned, Nestorius retired to his monastery in Antioch. John of Antioch (429–441), Patriarch of Antioch and a supporter of Nestorius’ doctrine, was ordered by the emperor to accept Nestorius’ condemnation and its theological consequences, and Cyril quietly ceased to assert his Twelve Anathemas. Nevertheless, relations in the Eastern Church, particularly between the See of Alexandria and the See of Antioch, remained tense.33 Among those who supported Cyril’s Twelve Anathemas was Eutyches (380–456), the highly respected Archimandrite of Constantinople. He took Cyril’s doctrine to the extreme, and expounded what came to be known as the Monophysite heresy.34 Eutyches declared that Christ had only one essence: divine. He was unwilling to believe that God could appear in a fully human form. In 447, Eutyches was accused of heresy for this claim and subjected to an interrogation before the Patriarch of Constantinople, Flavian (446–449). Pope Leo’s reaction to this assembly was the famous letter now known as the Tomus ad Flavianum of 449.35 Emperor Theodosius II and Dioskuros, the Bishop of Alexandria (444–457), protested Flavian’s treatment of Eutyches, and convoked their own council – the Council of Ephesus – in 449. Pope Leo sent a letter to the council defining what were, for him, the essentials of Orthodox faith, and also demanding that Eutyches and his ideas be rejected. Despite Leo’s efforts, the synod decided to rehabilitate Eutyches and return him to his office, while sending Flavian into exile. Leo called the Council of

28 ALBERIGO 1994, p. 73. 29 TURNER 1975, pp. 306–321. 30 JONES 1986, p. 214. 31 BROWN 1998, p. 30. 32 FESTUGIERE 1983, p. 11. 33 BROWN 1998, p. 31. 34 JONES 1986, p. 215. 35 FESTUGIERE 1983, p. 11.

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Ephesus a latrocinium (the Robber’s synod) and refused to accept its conclusions.36 In 450, at the celebration of the festival of the Cathedra Petri in Rome, Leo asked the imperial family to intervene on his side. But Theodosius II hesitated, then died less than a year later. Under the new Emperor, Marcian (450–457), the disputes on the essence of Christ were reopened.37 Marcian’s ecclesiastical policy had a clear aim. The new Emperor wanted his election to be ratified by the western imperial court, where Pope Leo had substantial influence. In the same way, Anatolius (449–458), the new bishop of Constantinople, also sought recognition of his new function from the pope.38 Thus Marcian had his reasons to accommodate Leo’s call for a correction, but the Pope did not consider it necessary to convoke another council; he wanted to avoid a new round of debates and tried to convince the emperor that the orthodox dogmas set by previous councils should not be subject to debate. The only issue, in his opinion, was the rehabilitation of the bishops sent into exile.39 Nonetheless, Emperor Marcian convoked a council in Chalcedon, which convened on 8 October 451.40 The Pope who was not present, and despite his displeasure that the synod had even been convoked, requested that the bishops in attendance use his Tomus ad Flavianum as a formulation of the fundamentals of orthodoxy.41

The Tomus ad Flavianum and the Chalcedonian Confession of Faith

Leo’s letter to Flavian, the Patriarch of Constantinople, is dated 13 June 449. It is more than a reaction to a specific event. It is primarily a formulation of as understood by Leo: a combination of Divine glory and human weakness:42

“The birth of flesh reveals human nature; birth from a virgin is a proof of divine power. A lowly cradle manifests the infancy of the child; angels’ voices announce the greatness of the most High. Herod evilly strives to kill one who was like a human being at the earliest stage the Magi rejoice to adore on bended knee one who is the Lord of all. And when he came to be baptised by his precursor John, the Father's voice spoke thunder from heaven, to ensure that he did not go unnoticed because the divinity was concealed by the veil of flesh: ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ (...) Hunger, thirst, weariness, sleep are patently human. But to satisfy five thousand people with five loaves; to dispense living water to the Samaritan woman, a drink of which will stop her being thirsty ever again; to walk on the surface of the sea with feet that do not

36 ALBERIGO 1994, p. 121. 37 JONES 1986, p. 216. 38 Ibidem, p. 219. 39 TANNER 1990, p. 75. 40 Ibidem, pp. 75-76; ALBERIGO 1994, p. 121. 41 TANNER 1990, pp. 75–76. 42 A full version of the letter is in TANNER 1990, pp. 77–82.

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sink; to rebuke the storm and level the mounting waves; there can be no doubt these are divine.”43

For Leo, the church lives and grows in the faith that just as humanity is not without Divinty, so Divinity is not without humanity (e.g. Sermon 51).44 Leo’s letter became widely known, and just as Leo wished, the letter was directly mentioned in the Chalcedonian Confession, which declared orthodox the idea that Christ had two natures, God and man.45 This declaration, however, was never accepted in some parts of the Eastern Empire, chiefly Egypt and some areas of Syria.46 The dispute between the Monophysites and the rest of the Empire deeply divided the Church, and every emperor up until the seventh century would try to find the elusive compromise that would re-unite the Church.47 Although the resolution of the Council of Chalcedon meant a schism with the non-Chalcedonian churches, the ideology of ecclesiastical unity was not abandoned. As the imperial polity fell apart in the West, the Monophysite crisis showed the importance of a tight church hierarchy, capable of preventing a similar collapse.48 Leo achieved this through his sermons and through his correspondence with the other protagonists in this struggle – the western and eastern imperial courts, and other bishops. According to Susan Wessel, it would not be hyperbole to say that his long-term conception of a unified church survived the physical reality of its schism.49 In order to hold the Church together, Leo applied the same instrument that some of his predecessors had been applying since the second century: asserting the primacy of the Bishop of Rome as the successor of Saint Peter.50 In his sermons, Leo very often emphasised the superiority of the Roman episcopal seat.51

Ravenna and the Primacy of Rome

Although Bishop of Ravenna was Metropolitan of the Emilia region, he was

43 “Nativitas carnis manifestatio est humanae naturae, partus virginis divinae est virtutis indicium; infantia parvuli ostenditur humilitate cunarum, magnitudo altissimi declaratur vocibus angelorum. Similis est rudimentis hominum quem Herodes impie molitur occidere, sed dominus est omnium quem magi gaudent suppliciter adorare. Iam cum ad praecursoris sui Iohannis baptismum venit, ne lateret quod carnis velamine divinitas tegeretur, vox patris de caelo intonans dixit: hic est filius meus dilectus, in quo mihi bene conplacui. (Mt. 3:17) (...) Esurire sitire lassescere atque dormire evidenter humanum est, sed quinque panibus quinque milia hominum satiare (Mt. 14: 17–21) et largiri Samaritanae aquam vivam, cuius haustus bibenti praestet ne ultra iam sitiat (J 4: 14), supra dorsum maris plantis non desidentibus ambulare (Matt. 14:25) et elationes fluctuum increpata tempestate consternere sine ambiguitate divinum est.” (TANNER 1990, pp. 79– 80. Translation from https://www.ewtn.com/faith/teachings/incac1.htm; accessed on 23 April 2014). 44 Leo the Great, Sermons, Vol. 3, p. 88. 45 TANNER 1990, pp. 75–76. 46 SCHATZ 1992, p. 79. 47 SPIESER 1992, p. 26. 48 DAGRON 2003, p. 26. 49 WESSEL 2008, p. 345. 50 Ibidem, pp. 286-287. 51 HENNE 2008, p. 25.

189 not entirely independent. He was selected by the Pope, and as far as the Pope was concerned, remained subordinate to the Bishop of Rome. The Bishop of Ravenna was a member of the episcopal synod at every consecration of a new Bishop of Rome, the so-called dies natalis.52 Moreover, it seems that it was also convenient for the Ravenna’s Bishop to remain the Pope’s subordinate. During the reign of Pope Leo, barbarians threatened the major northern Italian cities like Milan, Aquileia, and Ravenna. The ecclesiastical stability provided by Rome, with the Pope insisting on compliance to doctrine, discipline, and the ecclesiastical hierarchy, may have been comforting amidst the social and political unrest caused by the invasions.53 A letter sent to Neon by Leo on 24 October 458 gives and indication of what their relationship was like. It is an answer to the bishop’s request for advice on how to act concerning children born in slavery, unsure whether they had been baptised, or baptised as Arians.54 This two-way correspondence is proof that Neon was in active contact with Rome, and that in practical matters, Neon relied on the authority of the Bishop of Rome. Further evidence of Neon’s ecclesiastical politics can also be found in the works of art that he commissioned. From my point of view, the most obvious visual proof that Neon subscribed to Leo’s notions of a unified Church, and that he recognized the primacy of Rome, is the so-called Five-Part Diptych from the cathedral treasury in Milan [Fig. 59 a, b]. Neon was likely the one who commissioned it.55 On the basis of the cloisonné work on its central panels, it has been dated to some time after 450, likely the reign of Emperor Majorian (457–461). As I tried to show in the chapter of this thesis dedicated to ivory and jewellery, one or more workshops had to be producing this kind of jewellery in Ravenna in exactly this period. Such a workshop probably produced the central panels of the Five-Part Diptych.

The Milan Five-Part Diptych

The majority of researchers interpret the overall iconography of the diptych in the same way: the Christological narrative cycle is divided into two halves to emphasize, on one hand, Christ’s human nature and life on Earth, culminating with his final (where he is represented as the Lamb of God), and on the other hand, his divinity and miracles56 as epitomized by the cross, not a cross of suffering

52 HENNE 2008, p. 77. 53 WESSEL 2008, p. 135. 54 Epist. 166 in the critical edition of Leo’s letters CASULA 2002, pp. 58, 345. For a complete list of all Leo’s letters addressed to Neon see ibidem, pp. 57–60 (more detail ibidem, Appendice II, pp. 307–358). 55 FRANTOVÁ 2014/1, pp. 159–160. 56 VOLBACH 1976, P. 84; SPIER 2007, pp. 16, 256.

190 but a cross of victory.57 The diptych would therefore be a declaration, in ivory and jewels, of the orthodox position in the Christological debates of the fifth century. But does that simple interpretation hold up to evidence? The theological leanings of the Bishop of Ravenna, and his relations with Pope Leo in Rome, mean that the writings and sermons of Leo – irreplaceable historical, liturgical and doctrinal documents – will be useful in testing the usual interpretation of the Five-Part diptych and its narrative scenes. Leo’s clearest declaration of his Christology is found in the above-cited letter to Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople, and the diptych’s scenes illustrate some of the letter’s assertions: the Nativity (“His birth in flesh reveals His human nature”), the Slaughter of the Innocents (“Herod evilly strives to kill the one who was like a human being at the earliest stage”), the Adoration of the Magi (“the Magi rejoice to adore on bended knee one who is the Lord of all”) and Christ’s miracles (“there can be no doubt that these are divine”). Leo uses these events in the life of Christ to buttress his teachings not only in the Tomus, but also in many of his sermons (e.g. Sermons 33,58 51,59 7860). A close reading of Leo’s sermons, however, makes it difficult to agree with the researchers who have labeled the panel with the lamb a manifesto of Christ’s humanity and the panel with the cross as a manifesto of Christ’s divinity.61 By the fifth century, biblical exegesis was sophisticated and often multivalent. Leo’s sermons are no different, and in them Leo explains the events that are depicted in the four main scenes of the Five-Part Diptych ambiguously. For example, in a Lenten sermon, he says:

“Assign to the man that He is born a boy of a woman: assign to God that His mother’s virginity is not harmed, either by conception or by bearing. Recognize the form of a slave enwrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, but acknowledge that it was the Lord’s form that was announced by angels, proclaimed by the elements, adored by the wise men. Understand it of His humanity that he did not avoid the marriage feast: confess it Divine that he turned water into wine. Let your own feelings explain to you why He shed tears over a dead friend: let His Divine power be realized, when that same friend, after mouldering in the grave four days, is brought to life and raised only by the command of His voice”.62

This sermon, and many like it, imply that the Five-Part Diptych should be

57 KESSLER 2007, p. 142. 58 Leo the Great, Sermons, vol. 2, pp. 151–161. 59 Ibidem, vol. 3, pp. 84–89. 60 Ibidem, vol. 4, pp. 121–129. 61 E.g. VOLBACH 1976, p. 84; SPIER 2007, pp. 16, 256. 62“Da homini quod de muliere puer nascitur; da Deo quod nec conceptu laeditur virginitas materna, nec partu. Formam servi obvolutam pannis, jacentem in praesepio cognosce; sed annuntiatam ab angelis, declaratam ab elementis, adoratam a magis formam Domini confitere. Humanum intellige, quod non declinavit nuptiale convivium; divinum approba, quod aquam convertit in vinum. Nostra tibi innotescat affectio, cum mortuo amico fletus impenditur; divina potentia sentiatur, cum idem post quatriduanam jam faetidus sepulturam, solo vocis imperio vivificatus erigitur.” (Leo the Great, Sermons, vol. 2, pp. 155–157).

191 understood as one compact conception, a unified statement of Christ’s divinity and humanity as set out by the Chalcedonian confession of faith, “unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably; the distinction of natures being by no means taken away by the union, but rather the property of each nature surviving, and concurring in one Person and one Subsistence, not parted or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son, and only begotten, God the Word, the Lord Jesus Christ.”63 One of the diptych’s dominant scenes, the Adoration of the Magi, can also be given a dual reading. In early Christian art, this episode is not a depiction of a story from the Christ’s childhood, but rather represents the recognition and veneration of his Divinity by the three earthly wise men.64 Leo the Great, however, thinking of Christ’s dual nature, places special emphasis on their gifts:

“The incense they offer to God, the myrrh to Man, the gold to the King, consciously paying honour to the Divine and human Nature in union”.65

The Magi saw with their own eyes, and could attest that it was a child in all its vulnerability. Yet from this moment, the power of the Word began to act so that through him, all could go to the heavenly kingdom – just as had happened with the Holy Innocents.66 The central panels also support this dual reading. The lamb set in the wreath of wheat, , grapes, and other fruits symbolizes Christ’s perpetual sacrifice in the Eucharist, the culmination of his life on Earth.67 The cross stands on a hill representing paradise, from which the four rivers of paradise flow. This is an allusion to Christ’s victory over death and the eternal redemption of mankind in the world to come. But behind the cross are doors with curtains; they send the message that Christ’s physical, human sacrifice allows the faithful to enter the temple:

“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh.” (Hebrews 10:19 – 20).68

If we accept this dual reading of the main scenes and the central panels of the Five-Part Diptych, the ancillary scenes are not difficult to interpret. They reinforce and supplement the dual reading of the main scenes. They are not a chronological narration from the life of Christ, but rather a series of symbolic images leading the

63 “(...) immutabiliter, indivise, inseparabiliter agnoscendum, nusquam sublata differentia naturarum propter unitionem magisque salva proprietate utriusque naturae et in unam personam atque subsistentiam concurrente, non in duas personas partitum sive divisum, sed unum et eundem Filium unigenitum Deum Verbum dominum Iesum Christum (...).” (TANNER 1990, p. 85). 64 RÉAU 1957, p. 246. 65 “Thus Deo, myrrham homini, aurum offerunt regi, scienter divinam humanamque naturam in unitate venerantes.” (Leo the Great, Sermons, vol. 1, p. 215). 66 Ibidem, p. 28. 67 KESSLER 2007, p. 142. 68 More about this iconography in KESSLER 1990/1991, pp. 53–77.

192 viewer to seek deeper meaning in what is explicitly presented by the four main scenes. Many visual depictions of biblical stories in Early Christian art are more like guidelines than specific illustrations. Their selection, composition, and wider context show that they had another and rather prevalent purpose: to reinforce and explain the meaning of the story itself.69 Leo often used the veil as a metaphor for the covering and uncovering of Christ’s divinity,70 and on the Milan Diptych this detail appears twice: on the central panel with the cross, and on the mysterious scene of the woman approaching an elevated . Another example of a similar visual metaphor is Leo’s focus on the woman dressed in gold in a mosaic in Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome. That scene has been interpreted as the Annunciation [Fig. 103].71 The Virgin Mary’s garment in that mosaic deserves special attention because it is almost identical to Mary’s garment in the Annunciation by the spring on the Five-Part Diptych, and to the garment worn by the woman approaching the elevated shrine [Fig. 104]. The Virgin wears a diadem in every case, and is clothed in a golden trabea with a prominent border around the neck; this garment was worn by the women of the imperial family.72 Again, one of Leo’s sermons explains what this means: when worn by the Virgin Mary, this unusual courtly garment symbolises her origin in King David’s royal family.73 Richard Krautheimer went so far as to propose that Leo, in his time as archdeacon under Pope Sixtus III, could have conceived the programme of the mosaics in Santa Maria Maggiore.74

Neon’s Artistic Patronage and Rome

Aside from the Orthodox Baptistery and the Five-Part Diptych, Neon was responsible for an addition to the episcopal palace, and for the so-called quinque accubita and its decoration in . The latter, known today only from Agnellus’ description of it, was a triclinium or refectory with ceremonial functions. Dining rooms of this type were typical in aristocratic residences and palaces.75 The decoration of Neon’s triclinium is relevant to the relationship between the Bishops of Ravenna and Rome because at least part of it reproduced the (now lost) decoration of the Basilica of St. Peter in Rome and the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the

69 JENSEN 2007, p. 68. 70 SIEGER 1987, p. 85. 71 Ibidem, p. 86. See more on the mosaics of Santa Maria Maggiore in MENNA 2006 with complete bibliography. 72 SIEGER 1987, p. 84. On Mary’s representation in Santa Maria Maggiore see LIDOVA 2015. 73 SIEGER 1987, p. 86. 74 KRAUTHEIMER 1980, p. 51. 75 See more on Neon’s triclinium in WEIS 1966; MONTANARI 1997; MILLER 2000, pp. 23-27; RIZZARDI 2005/1.

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Walls.76 An extensive cycle of frescoes once decorated the walls of the nave of the Basilica of St. Peter; these were certainly some of the most important narrative of the Middle Ages. We know them today only from watercolours made by Domenico Tasseli during the demolition of the building in 1606, and from descriptions by Jacopo Grimaldi.77 Their dating is disputed, with suggestions ranging from 36078 to the time of Leo the Great.79 Likewise, we only know the frescoes of the nave of the Basilica of St Paul Outside the Walls (where the narrative programe of St. Peter’s was repeated)80 from pen-and-ink drawings and aquarelles made for Cardinal Francesco Barberini in 1635 by Antonio Eclissi.81 Nor is their agreement on the dating of the frescoes in St. Paul’s. Some scholars suggest the end of the fourth century, when the basilica was built, but Jean-Michel Spiser admits that the cycle could have been restored fifty years later, at the time of Leo the Great. Manuela Viscontini is one of the scholars who takes an even more radical position: she suggests that the were first painted at the time of Leo the Great.82 Thanks to Agnellus’ descriptions, we know Neon’s triclinium included, like the frescoes in St Peter’s, depictions of the Flood, the Creation of the World, the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes, and the story of the apostle Peter.83 At the two great Roman basilicas, the painters used framed images, in chronological order, to tell the story of Christ or the apostle Peter, with illuminated manuscripts as models (as shown in studies by Kurt Weitzmann and Herbert Kessler84). In the fifth century, this method of narration was novel, and appeared in few places. St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s were two of those places, and as we will see below, the method was also used on ivories, which were related, in iconography at least, to the Five-Part Diptych.85 The decision of Bishop Neon to have his triclinium decorated in imitation of the Basilica of St Peter may be more evidence that he wanted to help Leo achieve his theological aims: the preservation of the unity of the church (under Roman primacy), and the defense of orthodoxy. If there were any doubts as to Neon’s ecclesiastical politics, they were dispelled after his death; he was buried in the Church of Saints Peter and Paul in Ravenna. In the chapter of this work dealing with ivory production in Ravenna, I

76 KESSLER 1994, p. 395; Idem 2002, p. 53. For a reconsideration of the dates of both churches see GIANANDREA 2017. 77 KESSLER 1979/1. See more on the drawings in idem 2002, pp. 47–48. 78 SPIESER 2011, p. 106. 79 VISCONTINI 2006/1, p. 411; KESSLER 2002, pp. 49–50 proposes the most probable hypothesis, based on the written sources: that the cycle of frescoes dates to the time around 400. 80 SPIESER 2011, p. 106. 81 WEIS 1966; VISCONTINI 2006/2, p. 372. 82 Ibidem. 83 Agnellus of Ravenna, LPR, ch. 29. 84 WEITZMANN1957, p. 88; KESSLER 1979/2, p. 450. 85 VOLBACH 1976, p. 84.

194 mentioned Volbach’s “Ravennate group” of ivory carvings, in which Volbach included the Five-Part Diptych. But even Volbach admits that these works resemble each other only in iconography, not in style.86 I think that the ivories in Volbach’s “group” are related, but not by geographic provenance. I believe, rather, that scences on the Five-Part Diptych preserved at Milan were modelled after the scenes on some of the other ivories in Volbach’s “group”. Among the ivories that Volbach called products of a Ravennate school are fifth-century tablets currently held in Berlin (Staatliche Museen) [Fig. 105],87 Paris () [Fig. 106]88 and Nevers (Musée Blandin) [Fig. 107],89 as well as the Andrews Diptych with scenes of Christ’s miracles (Victoria and Albert Museum in London, 450–460) [Fig. 108],90 the four panels with the Passion scenes from London (British Museum, 440–461) [Fig. 109].91 In the part of this thesis which concerned ivories, I concluded that there was no stylistic relation between these carvings and the Five-Part Diptych preserved in Milan; new studies have, in fact, confirmed that these pieces originated in a Rome milieu.92 But in iconography, they are strikingly similar to the scenes on the Five-Part Diptych. I will now suggest that these Roman ivories (or very similar Roman carvings) served as iconographic models for the Five-Part Diptych, and that they were used as models because their Christological meaning was one that Bishop Neon wanted to re-create on his Five-Part Diptych. Gaborit-Chopin has convincingly shown that the panels from Berlin, Paris, and Nevers were probably once parts of another diptych in five parts.93 These three pieces show passing similarities in composition to the Five-Part Diptych from Milan, but it is in the iconographic details that the relationship between these works really becomes clear. Some of the details, like the brick background or the horn of plenty in the hands of one of the Magi, have not been found on any surviving works but these two. An even stronger parallel can be seen in the scenes on the Andrews Diptych. Details like the apostle/witness witnessing Christ’s miracles, the staff in the hands of Christ when he orders the vessels to be filled with water (or when he revives Lazarus) or the newly-healed lame man bearing his bed on his back, are present on the Andrews Diptych and on the Five-Part Diptych – in almost the same form.

86 VOLBACH 1977, p. 15. 87 Idem 1976, n. 112, p. 80; GABORIT-CHOPIN 2003, n. 1, pp. 33–35; FRANTOVÁ 2017. 88 VOLBACH 1976, n. 113, p. 81. The design of this complete diptych in five parts is known from a Carolingian copy now in the Bodleian Library in Oxford. It is from around 800. (Ibidem, n. 221, p. 131); Gaborit-Chopin 2003, n. 1, pp. 33–35; FRANTOVÁ 2017. 89 VOLBACH 1976, n. 114, p. 81; GABORIT-CHOPIN 2003, n. 1, pp. 33–35; FRANTOVÁ 2017. 90 KÖTZSCHE 1979/1. 91 VOLBACH 1976, n. 116, p. 82. For the dating see FOLETTI 2016 (in press). 92 E.g. GABORIT-CHOPIN 2003, n. 1, pp. 33–35; FOLETTI 2016 (in press); KÖTZSCHE 1978/1. The entry dealing with the Andrews Diptych is confusing. The author assigns the Diptych to northern Italy based on a “close relationship with other North Italian ivories”. As an example, she gives the Liverpool Venatio Panel (entry 84 of the same catalogue), but, in the same publication, proposes a Roman origin for that panel. 93 GABORIT-CHOPIN 2003, pp. 34–35.

195

How can we explain these iconographic similarities between Roman ivories (now in Paris, Berlin, Nevers, and London) and the northern Italian Five-Part Diptych? Let us note one element common to all the works – the brick backgrounds. Alexander Coburn Soper called this “a very rare motif in Rome”. For Coburn Soper, this is indisputable proof that these Roman ivories were the product of “artistic customs spread from the north”. While he has noticed the brick background on the wooden doors of the Basilica of Santa Sabina, he thinks that they too must be the work of artists from the north.94 Whoever made the doors of the Basilica of Santa Sabina, the Soper’s arguments can be easily disproved by a cursory glance at the Eclissi’s drawings and watercolours of the lost frescoes of the Basilica of St Paul Outside the Walls. There, brick backgrounds appear in several of the narrative scenes.95 Even stronger evidence that the Five-Part Diptych could have been inspired by Roman ivories is another iconographic detail, namely the Lamb of God in a wreath of the fruits of the four seasons. Wolfgang Kemp claimed that the only two images connecting the wreath and the lamb in Early Christian art are the Five-Part Diptych and the mosaic in the cupola of the Basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna (mid-sixth century) [Fig. 110].96 But this claim is incorrect; and almost identical lamb in a wreath can be found – twice – at the Lateran Baptistery in Rome, a monument, which is more or less contemporary with the Five-Part Diptych. The first example in the Lateran Baptistery is in a mosaic in the Chapel of St John the Evangelist, where we find the lamb in the same elegant pose as on the diptych, its head surrounded by a halo turned three quarters behind [Fig. 111]. The tail also droops in the same way. Moreover, ther wreath is separated into four equal parts according to the fruits of the individual seasons, just like on the diptych. The second example is a lost mosaic, known only from a drawing by Giovanni Ciampini, from the Chapel of John the Baptist in the Lateran Baptistery [Fig. 112]. Both mosaics have been dated to the time of Pope Hilarius (461-468), successor to Leo the Great.97 There is one more ivory that must be mentioned here – a fragment of yet another diptych in five parts, this one from the Louvre, showing scenes from the life of Peter [Fig. 113]. A Ravennate provenance was proposed for this piece by Volbach.98 It is poorly preserved, and the quality of its carving is also poor, but its iconography is very interesting. Volbach saw stylistic similarities between this fragment and the Five- Part Diptych now in Milan, and this is not unreasonable. Despite the fragment’s poor

94 SOPER 1938, p. 169. Most recently on the Basilica of Santa Sabina and its doors see FOLETTI/GIANANDREA 2015. 95 VISCONTINI 2006/2. 96 KEMP 1994, p. 44. 97 PENNESI 2006. 98 VOLBACH 1976, n. 121, p. 86; Idem 1977, pP. 19, 23–25, fig. 21; Idem 1978, p. 265; GABORIT- CHOPIN 2003, n. 4, pp. 39-40.

196 state of preservation, one can clearly see that the figures were carved in relatively low relief. This is not the style of the “Roman” figures, which have more volume and more elongated limbs, and which show an outline of the human body under their draperies. Danielle Gaborit-Chopin, however, thinks that the Five-Part Diptych in Milan shows more sense for composition than the St. Peter’s fragment, and that the Five-Part Diptych’s figures are more plastic (although this comparison is made more difficult by the St. Peter’s fragment’s very poor state of preservation). Gaborit-Chopin does not totally reject the possibility that the St. Peter’s fragment came from Ravenna, but she is not convinced of a common origin for these two artefacts. She sees a closer relationship between the St. Peter’s fragment and the group of pyxides, which Volbach compared to The Five-Part Diptych from Milan.99 These pyxides are works or highly variable quality, and await more detailed study. They have been roughly dated to the fifth and sixth centuries, and are therefore not ideal for comparisons with the ivories that we have been considering. It is, however, the iconography of the St. Peter’s fragment, which should interest us here. The fragment is a thin rectangular plate, divided into three fields by simple frames. While the lower field is a traditional scene depicting Christ before Pilate,100 the two other scenes are episodes from the life of Saint Peter, making them very unusual for the period in question. (Mt 26:34, 69–75; Mk 14:29–30, 66–72; Lk 22:33–34, 54–62).101 One of the scenes depicts the moment when, in the courtyard of Caiaphas, a maid accuses Peter of being one of Christ’s followers, a charge which Peter vigorously denies. The only surviving a bit later version of the same scene is in a mosaic at the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo. The second of the intriguing scenes on the St. peter’s fragment shows Peter crying after betraying Christ while sitting against the gate leading to the courtyard of Caiaphas. A rooster on the gate reminds him of Christ’s prophecy. This image of Peter and a rooster is very unusual for the fifth century; it has been found only in the Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, and on three Roman artefacts – the Brescia casket, the door of the Basilica of Santa Sabina, and the Passion Panels in London, i.e. on works which are often grouped together with the Five-Part Diptych now in Milan. In an Easter sermon, Pope Leo I spoke of two examples of purification in the gospels. The first was Pilate washing his hands, the second Peter regretting having betrayed Christ. For Leo, Peter’s penitence is one of the fundamental acts in the history of salvation. Leo emphasized that Peter was able to find the path to salvation again thanks to Christ’s merciful gesture (His glances at Peter). This gesture causes Peter to weep (Lk 22:61).102 For the believer, these episodes from the last hours of

99 GABORIT-CHOPIN 2003, p. 40. 100 SCHILLER 1968, pp. 71–73. 101 FOLETTI 2016 (in press). 102 Sermon 41.5 (Leo the Great, Sermons, pp. 60–61); sermon 47.4 (Leo the Great, Sermons, pp. 128–129).

197

Christ’s life – Peter's betrayal and especially his penitence – were to be examples of human frailty and divine power.103 All these surviving examples of fifth-century diptychs laid out in five parts, whether from Rome or Ravenna (the Five-Part Diptych now in Milan, the panels now in Paris, Berlin, and Nevers, as well as the St. Peter’s fragment), need to be examined against the background of fifth-century Roman . If we take into account 1) this theological milieu, 2) the relation of the bishop of Ravenna to that of Rome, and 3) the fact that the Five-Part Diptych uses iconography and a method of narration which had, up to that time, appeared only in Roman basilicas or on ivories now thought to be from Rome or environs, I think that we can safely say that the Five-Part Diptych (perhaps along with the St. Peter’s fragment) were created in order to declare the Bishop of Ravenna’s support for Pope Leo’s battle for orthodoxy. That ivory tablets – and in particular, those laid out in five parts – were used for such openly ideological purposes is shown by three other diptychs, each in five parts, from less than a century later. The iconography of the Murano Diptych [Fig. 114],104 the Etschmiadzin Diptych [Fig. 115],105 and the Diptych of Saint-Lupicin [Fig. 116]106 has been called neo-Chalcedonian by Jean-Pierre Caillet. They were made between 533 and 553, i.e. in the period just after the dispute concerning the Three Chapters in the reign of Emperor Justinian (527–565).107 The iconography of these diptychs is very similar to what we have already seen on the Five-Part Diptych now in Milan, and on the works that we have related to it. The emphasis on the dual nature of Christ is even more explicit here; the central panels always show the Virgin Mary on one side, and Christ on the other. Many of the narrative scenes, relating to Christ’s incarnation on one side (the Annunciation, Visitation, Nativity, Adoration of the Magi, Escape to Egypt, and an apocryphal scene of Mary undergoing the Ordeal of the Bitter Water), and to the supernatural actions and miracles of Christ on the other side, also appeared on the Five-Part Diptych now in Milan the works associated with it. In his study, Jean-Pierre Caillet sought to connect the iconography of the diptychs with the Emperor’s edict denouncing the Three Chapters, ands suggests that these sixth-century diptychs are a “direct radiation of the neo-Chalcedonian tendency”.108

103 Sermons 41.5 (Leo the Great, Sermons, pp. 60–63) and 47.4 (Leo the Great, Sermons, pp. 126–131). 104 One of the two panels of the diptych is deposited today in the Museo nazionale di Ravenna, the second is divided between Berlin (Staatliche Museen), Manchester (John Rylands Library), Paris (Louvre), and Saint Petersburg (Ermitage). VOLBACH 1976, n. 125–129, pp. 87–89; RIZZARDI 1990, n. 2, pp. 62-65; GABORIT-CHOPIN 1992, n. 24, p. 71. 105 Erivan, Matenadaran; VOLBACH 1976, n. 142, pp. 94–95. 106 Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale; Ibidem, n. 145, p. 97; GABORIT-CHOPIN 1992, n. 27, pp. 74–77. 107 CAILLET 2008. 108 Ibidem, p. 20.

198

Summary

The were a period of unending theological disputes concerning the dual nature of Christ. In 451, Bishop Neon acceded to the See of Ravenna, and as a Metropolitan bishop, he had to take a clear theological stance. It was the Bishop of Rome, Leo the Great, who spoke for the Western, Latin Church in these Christological disputes. His position was conservative, unspeculative, and focused on maintaining the traditions, stability, and continuity of the church at a time when imperial Rome was disintegrating and the Monophysite crisis was showing the urgency of giving the church a more compact hierarchy capable of avoiding collapse. I believe that I have shown how Neon, the Bishop of Ravenna, shared Leo’s interest in maintaining the unity of the church, and how he recognized the primacy of Rome. The Diptych of Five Parts and other projects commissioned by Neon show how the art of fifth-century Ravenna reflected the theological and political atmosphere of the time.

199

CONCLUSION

Using the results of recent archaeological and laboratory research, we have studied the way workshops functioned, how material for producing luxurious artefacts was supplied, and how ideas, models, and craftsmen circulated. Looking at the art of Ravenna through the lenses of archaeometric analysis and new archaeological discoveries has enriched the traditional art-historical approach and has made it possible to free Ravenna’s monuments and artefacts from restrictive conceptions which seek to identify the characteristics of purely “Ravennate” art or, conversely, “foreign” elements which continue to be present in Ravenna’s historiography up to now. From my point of view, it has been more useful to reflect on Late Antique attitudes to artistic tradition(s), and on how traditions were diffused, received, or resisted by craftsmen. The materialist study of circulations seems to have succeeded in surpassing the too narrow focus on the city of Ravenna as an exceptional place of specific artistic manifestations. The conclusions reached in the individual chapters of the first part of my work lead to a broader one: in the early Christian period, there was a broad and unified Roman culture covering both West and East. Individual similarities between works of art from different places can be best explained by recognising that crafts were practiced and organized similarly across the Late Antique world, with the practical aspects of production dictating the practice and organisation and allowing for only limited experimentation. Despite transitions of authorities, and through the reigns of child emperors and numerous usurpers, through civil wars and endless barbarian invasions, and despite a considerable loss of imperial territory, craft practice in Classe, in Ravenna itself, and in the place called Marmorata changed little from the purely material perspective. This continuation of a tradition handed down from generation to generation, or its deliberate interruption, must be seen in the context of a cosmopolitan milieu where artisans coming from different cultures encountered and inspired one another. Following the patterns of late antique organization of supplying the goods throughout the whole Roman Empire Ravenna with its trading port Classe is one of the clearest evidence that the local populations interacted with the others and with the outside world. Apart from archaeology with its great facilities that allow art historians to support their research with archaeometric analyses, fundamental shifts have recently taken place in art history thanks to contributions from the field of history. Recent historical studies have significantly changed our view of the role of the various cities of the Roman Empire. Crucial topics for my research were the position of Rome in the period studied, the political and theological rivalry between the eastern and western parts of the Empire, and the relationship of Ravenna to other centres of artistic

201 production. The dialogue of Ravenna with Rome, Constantinople, and Milan was conducted on many levels (apart from the purely material and practical, also from iconographic, theological, and political), and that dialogue forms the axis of my research. The division of this work into two main parts emerges from my conviction that if our discipline adopts too materialistic or too iconological an approach, we block our own view of history. By combining approaches, we will better understand the artistic production of Late Antiquity. Such a combined approach has offered new ways to chart the intertwining of the traditional and excepted interpretations with the patterns of change and exchange throughout the whole late antique world. I hope I have thereby drawn an artistic profile for Ravenna at a time when it was one of the most important administrative, political, and religious centres of the western half of the Roman Empire. By following the above-mentioned lines of investigation, I hope I have succeeded in showing connections between politics, art, ideas, conflicts, and social phenomena and thus present Ravenna, again, not as an isolated phenomenon but as one of many players in the political, ecclesiastical and social games of the late antique world. For me, works of art are primarily images to be examined alongside other images and documents, and must be considered as historical evidence. I have traced, as thoroughly as possible, the conditions under which crafts were practiced, their social and cultural contexts, and their historical meaning. As described in the introductory chapter of this work, my conception of the Roman world which was globalized (among others) through the craft practise and materials as well as through the political and ecclesiastical events and responses of individual rulers is not new at all. It has already emerged from a post-war desire to break free from any sort of nationalism and regional compartmentalization, when it stood as a call for international collaboration in a world divided by the Cold War and, of course, it has even intensified after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Also the Ravenna’s monuments have attracted the attention of the scholars who perceive the Roman world as an undivided unity. The main focus on the stylistic and iconographic interpretation is moving backwards and has been more and more replaced by reflections on decentralization, cultural encounters and confrontations and they have guided also my research to face the challenges of where present-day art history is heading in general. Despite a long period of scholarly interest in Ravenna’s history with its monuments, there is still a long way to go before gaining a comprehensive image. The shorter the period the subtler the image we will be able to provide and the focus of this work only on period when Ravenna used to serve as seat of western Roman Emperors aimed to meet this assumption. I believe that some ideas of my work might stimulate further reflection on the relations between cultures and the dynamics of

202 transformation and integration that result from cultural encounters also for the research of the other periods of Ravenna’s history.

203

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

1. The historic centre of Ravenna today (David 2013/1, p. 261) 2. Alabaster windows in the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, since 1908 (David 2013/1, p. 100) 3. Ravenna and Classe in the Augustan period (David 2013/1, p. 260) 4. Ravenna and Classe in the Late Antiquity (Jäggi 2013/1, p. 48, fig. 17) 5. A furnace discovered in Classe (CIRELLI/TONTINI 2010, p. 127) 6. Pulvini from the Church of Saint John the Evangelist, lst half of the 5th century (BOVINI / FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1969, nos 157, 168, figs 144, 147) 7. Pulvinus combined with spoliated capital of Corinthian type from the Church of St. John the Evangelist, lst half of the 5th century (Jäggi 2013/1, p. 94, fig. 51) 8. Pulvinus from the Church of St. John the Evangelist, lst half of the 5th century (BOVINI / FARIOLI CAMPANATI 1969, n. 159, fig. 145) 9. Sarcophagus, Silivri-Kapı Mausoleum, Istanbul, lst half of the 5th century (FOLETTI/MONNEY 2013, p. 178, fig. 1) 10. Ground plan of the Ursiana Cathedral, early 5th century (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 87, fig. 20) 11. Ground plan of the Church of Saint John the Evangelist, early 5th century phase, (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 64, fig. 10) 12. Basilica of the Holy Cross, ground plan of the two phases of the complex in the age of Galla Placidia by A. Fiorini (DAVID 2013/1, p. 268) 13. Tubi fittili (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 17, fig. 2) 14. Façade using pilasters and blind arcades, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia (author’s photo) 15. Façade using pilasters and blind arcades, Basilica of St. John the Evangelist (SOTIRA 2014, p. 244, fig. 13) 16. Façade using pilasters and blind arcades, Basilica Virginum (S. Simpliciano), Milan (SOTIRA 2014, p. 245, fig. 14b) 17. Elevation of a triumphal arch on two columns, Basilica of St. John the Evangelist (JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 92, fig. 48) 18. Ground plan of the Basilica Apostolorum, Milan (Milano capitale dell’impero Romano 1990, p. 473) 19. Ground plan of the Basilica Virginum, Milan (SOTIRA 2014 , 245, p. 14a) 20. Basilica of the Holy Cross, reconstructive axonometry of the 1st and 2nd building phase by J. P. Civiletti (DAVID 2013/1, p. 268) 21. Ground plan of the the Baptistery of San Giovanni alle Fonti, Milan (MIRABELLA ROBERTI / PAREDI 1974, p. 22) 22. Ground plan of the Orthodox Baptistery (KOSTOF 1967, fig. 1) 23. Sarcophagus of Seda, 3rd century and 541, Museo Arcivescovile, Ravenna (SCHOOLMAN 2013, p. 65, fig. 5) 24. Sarcophagus Pietro degli Onesti gen. Peccatore, S. Maria in Porto fuori, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B8, fig. 42/3) 25. Sarcophagus, San Apollinare in Classe, mid-5th century (author’s photo) 26. Sarcophagus Pietro degli Onesti gen. Peccatore, detail, S. Maria in Porto fuori, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, B8, fig. 43/3) 27. Sarcophagus, Museo nazionale, Ravenna, beginning of the 5th century (author’s photo) 28. Isaac’s Sarcophagus, Adoration of the Magi, San Vitale, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B3, fig. 30/1) 29. Isaac’s Sarcophagus, Resurrection of Lazarus, San Vitale, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B3, 30/3) 30. Isaac’s Sarcophagus, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, San Vitale, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B3, 30/4)

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31. Fragment of a sarcophagus representing Doubting Thomas, Museo Nazionale, Ravenna, beginning of the 5th century (DAVID 2013/1, p. 60) 32. Sarcophagus of S. Celso, Doubting Thomas, Santa Maria dei Miracoli presso San Celso, Milan, 380–390 (FOLETTI 2016, p. 158, fig. 10) 33. Side of Pignatti Sarcophagus, Bracioforte, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B1, fig. 25/1) 34. Sarcophagus Pietro degli Onesti gen. Peccatore, detail, S. Maria in Porto fuori, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B8, fig. 43/3) 35. Isaac’s Sarcophagus, San Vitale, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B3, fig. 30/1) 36. Column Sarcophagus of the family Bensai-Dal Corno, Church of St. Francis, 1st half of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, B6, pp. 57-58 a) 34/1) 37. Fragment of a sarcophagus, depository of the Archaeological Museum in Istanbul (DEICHMANN 1969/2, fig. 1) 38. Sarcophagus of Bishop Liberius (Säulen-Arkaden-Sarkophage), Church of St. Francis, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, B7, 34/3) 39. Pignatti Sarcophagus, Bracioforte, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B1, 24/1). 40. Prinzensarkophag, Archaeological Museum, Istanbul, beginning of the 5th century (DECKERS 2004, fig. 6) 41. Limestone sarcophagus, detail of the relief, Silivri Kapı Mausoleum, Istanbul (FOLETTI/MONNEY 2013, p. 181, fig. 4) 42. Obelisk of Theodosius, Istanbul, 390–392 (author’s photo) 43. Fragment of a sarcophagus representing Doubting Thomas, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B2, fig. 26/4) 44. One of the adoring Magi on Isaac’s Sarcophagus, San Vitale, beginning of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B3, fig. 30/2) 45. The furnace on the pottery lamp, Školarice-Križišče, 1st century (PRICE 2005, p. 172, fig. 10.3) 46. The furnace on the unprovenanced terracotta group, 1st or 2nd (PRICE 2005, p. 172, fig. 10.4) 47. Mosaic figure, the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (RIZZARDI 1996/1, p. 83) 48. Mosaic figure of the Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (CESARETTI/GUADALUPI 2005, p. 33) 49. Mosaic figures of the Chapel of S. Aquilino, Milan, around 400 (BRANDENBURG/BERTELLI 1987, p. 164, Abb. 182). 50. The two-tone twisted ribbon, the Chapel of S. Aquilino, Milan, around 400 (BRANDENBURG/BERTELLI 1987, p. 169, Abb. 187) 51. The two-tone twisted ribbon, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (SOTIRA 2014, fig. 9, p. 250) 52. The two-tone twisted ribbon, Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (SOTIRA 2014, fig. 11, p. 251) 53. The intersecting circles, the Chapel of S. Aquilino, Milan, around 400 (DELL’ACQUA 1985, p.152, Abb. 156) 54. The intersecting circles, Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (author’s photo) 55. The personification of Ecclesia, Basilica of Santa Sabina, Rome, 432–440 (Leardi 2006, pp. 294, fig. 2) 56. Use of red tesserae, Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (MUSCOLINO 2011, p. 51, fig. 9c) 57. Use of red tesserae, Chapel of S. Aquilino, Milan, around 400 (BRANDENBURG/BERTELLI 1987, p. 166, Abb. 184) 58. Use of red tesserae, the Basilica of St. Pudenziana, Rome, 410–417 (BORDI 2006, p. 124, fig. 18) 59. The Milan Five-Part Diptych, Museo e Tesoro del duomo, Milan, 457–461 (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, pp. 38–39, fig. 12–13)

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60. The Halberstadt Diptych, Domschatz, Halberstadt, 417 (ELBERN 2001, p. 315, Abb.9) 61. Diptych of Felix, Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, 428 (VOLBACH 1976, n. 2) 62. Diptych of Patricius from Novara, Tesoro della cattedrale, Fondo capitolo di Santa Maria, Novara, ca. 425 (GAGETTI 2007, p. 217) 63. Traditio Legis, the stucco of the Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (KOSTOF 1965, fig. 81) 64. The Apostles carrying their crowns, Milan Five-part Diptych, Museo e Tesoro del duomo, Milan, 457–461 (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 39, fig. 13) 65. Mosaic figures of the Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (author’s photo) 66. Mosaic figures of the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (from RIZZARDI 1996 , p. 83) 67. Resurrection of Lazarus, Milan Five-part Diptych, Museo e Tesoro del duomo, Milan, 457–461 (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 39, fig. 13) 68. Isaac’s sarcophagus, the Adoration of the Magi, 1st half of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B3, fig. 30/1) 69. Adoration of the Magi, Milan Five-part Diptych, Museo e Tesoro del duomo, Milan, 457–461 (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 39, fig. 13) 70. Capsella di Ss. Quirico e Giulitta, Museo Arcivescovile, Ravenna, 440–450 (ANGIOLINI MARTINELLI / BOVINI 1968, n. 138 a–d) 71. Traditio Legis on the backside of the Sarcophagus of Liberius, 1st half of the 5th century (KOLLWITZ 1979, n. B7, figs 34/2–3) 72. Traditio Legis, the stucco of the Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (KOSTOF 1965, fig. 81) 73. Christ as the Good Shepherd, mosaic of the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (author’s photo) 74. Lamb of God, Milan Five-part Diptych, Museo e Tesoro del duomo, Milan, 457–461 (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 38, fig. 12) 75. Jewellery found in the tomb in Apahida (Romania), mid-5th century (CALLIGARO 2000, pp. 176, 180, 188) 76. Jewellery found in the Childeric’s tomb in Tournai (Belgium), mid-5th century (CALLIGARO 2000, pp. 207–209) 77. Jewellery found in Blučina-Cezavy (Czech Republic), mid-5th century (CALLIGARO 2000, pp. 198–199). 78. Jewellery found in Pouan (France), mid-5th century (CALLIGARO 2000, pp. 168- 169). 79. Golden fibula from Apahida (Romania), mid-5th century (CALLIGARO 2000, p. 185) 80. St. Theodor, Basilica of St. Cosmas and Damian, Rome, beginning of the 5th century (POESCHKE 2009, tav. 26). 81. Stilicho Diptych, Cathedral of , ca. 395 (METZ 1962, Abb. 02) 82. Childeric’s ring (replica), Tournai (Belgium), mid-5th century (CALLIGARO 2000, p. 207) 83. Porphyry statues of the Four Tetrarchs, Venice, beginning of the (author’s photo) 84. Ravenna in the early imperial period (DAVID 2013/1, p. 261) 85. Ground plan of the Baptistery of Albenga (MARCENARO 1993, p. 87) 86. Mosaic decoration of the Baptistery of Albenga (MARCENARO 1993, p. 129) 87. Ravenna after its expansion in the 5th century (DAVID 2013/1, p. 261) 88. Mosaic decoration of Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (author’s photo) 89. Diptych of Basilius, 541 (CAMERON/SCHAUER 1982, pl. V) 90. The silver missorium of Ardabur Aspar, 434 (ENGEMANN 2008, p. 93, fig. 17) 91. Barberini Diptych, Louvre, Paris, 2nd quarter of the 6th century (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 47, fig. 20) 92. Diptych of Probus, 406, Museo della Cattedrale, Aosta (CESARETTI/GUADALUPI 2005, p. 200) 93. Reconstruction of the lost mosaic of St. John the Evangelist (DELIYANNIS 2010, p. 69, fig. 13)

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94. Gold male figures and Chi-Rho monogram of Christ with alpha and omega, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (author’s photo) 95. Mosaics of the eastern and western lunettes, acanthus scrolls and two deers by a pool of water, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (author’s photo) 96. The lunette on the north arm with Christ as a Good Sheperd (author’s photo) 97. Lunette with St. Lawrence, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (JÄGGI 2013/1, p. 107, fig. 61) 98. Cross in the vault, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, 425–450 (author’s photo) 99. Decoration of the Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (DAVID 2013/1, p. 103) 100. Orthodox Baptistery, exterior, beginning of the 5th century (author’s photo) 101. Mosaic decoration of the dome of the Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (author’s photo) 102. The central medallion in the apex of the cupola with Baptism of Christ, Orthodox Baptistery, 458 (author’s photo) 103. Annunciation, Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome, 2nd quarter of the 5th century (MENNA 2006, pp. 334) 104. Annunciation by the spring, Milan Five-part Diptych, Museo e Tesoro del duomo, Milan, 457–461 (Castelfranchi Vegas 2005, p. 38, fig. 12) 105. Fragment of five-part diptych, Staatliche Museen, Berlin, mid-5th century (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 40, fig. 1) 106. Fragment of five-part diptych, Louvre, Paris, mid-5th century (CASTELFRANCHI VEGAS 2005, p. 40, fig. 14) 107. Fragment of five-part diptych, Musée Blandin, Nevers, mid-5th century (VOLBACH 1976, cat. n. 114) 108. Andrews Diptych, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 450–460 (KÖTZSCHE 1978, p. 500) 109. 110. British ivory Casket, British Museum, London, 440–461 (FOLETTI 2017, pp. 152– 153) 111. Lamb of God, mosaic of Basilica of San Vitale, mid-6th century (author’s photo) 112. Lamb of God, mosaic of the Chapel of St. John the Evangelist, Lateran Baptistery, Rome, 461–468 (PENNESI 2006, p. 427) 113. Drawing by Giovanni Ciampini (1690), Chapel of John the Baptist, Lateran Baptistery, Rome, 461–468 (PENNESI 2006, p. 430) 114. Plaque with Peter’s denial, Musée du Louvre, Paris, 5th or 6th century (DONATI 2000, p. 122) 115. Diptych from Murano, Museo nazionale, Ravenna, 533–553 (GABORIT-CHOPIN 1992, n. 142). 116. Diptych Etschmiadzin, Matenadaran, Jerevan, 533–553 (VOLBACH1976, n. 142) 117. Diptych from Saint-Lupicin, Bibliothèque nationale, Paris, 533–553 (GABORIT- CHOPIN 1992, n. 27)

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