Pagan and Christian Rome

We must not believe, however, that gentiles and Christians lived always at swords' points. Italians in general, and Romans in particular, are noted for their great tolerance in matters of religion, which sometimes degenerates into apathy and indifference. Whether it be a sign of feebleness of character, or of common sense, the fact is, that religious feuds have never been allowed to prevail among us. In no part of the world have the Jews enjoyed more freedom and tolerance than in the Roman Ghetto. The same feelings prevailed in imperial Rome, except for occasional outbursts of passion, fomented by the official persecutors.

Inscription in a tomb of the Via Severiana at Ostia.

An inscription was discovered at Ostia, in January, 1867, in a tomb of the Via Severiana, of which I append an accurate copy.

The tomb and the inscription are purely pagan, as shown by the invocation to the infernal gods, Diis Manibus. This being the case, how can we account for the names of Paul and Peter, which, taken separately, give great probability, and taken together give almost absolute certainty, of having been adopted in remembrance of the two apostles? One circumstance may help us to explain the case: the preference shown for the name of Paul over that of Peter; the former was borne by both father and son, the latter appears only as a surname given to the son. This fact is not without importance, if we recollect that the two men who show such partiality for the name of Paul belong to the family of Anneus Seneca, the philosopher, whose friendship with the apostle has been made famous by a tradition dating at least from the beginning of the fourth century. The tradition rests on a foundation of truth. The apostle was tried and judged in Corinth by the proconsul Marcus Anneus Gallio, brother of Seneca; in Rome he was handed over to Afranius Burro, prefect of the prætorium, and an intimate friend of Seneca. We know, also, that the presence of the prisoner, and his wonderful eloquence in preaching the new faith, created a profound sensation among the members of the prætorium and of the imperial household. His case must have been inquired into by the philosopher himself, who happened to be consul suffectus at the time. The modest tombstone, discovered by accident among the ruins of Ostia, gives us the evidence of the bond of sympathy and esteem established, in consequence of these events, between the Annei and the founders of the Church in Rome.

Its resemblance to the name of the Annei reminds me of another remarkable discovery connected with the same city, and with the same question. There lived at Ostia, towards the middle of the second century, a manufacturer of pottery and terracottas, named Annius Ser......, whose lamps were exported to many provinces of the empire. These lamps are generally ornamented with the image of the Good Shepherd; but they show also types which are decidedly pagan, such as the labors of Hercules, Diana the huntress, etc. It has been surmised that Annius Ser...... was converted to the gospel, and that the adoption of the symbolic figure of the Redeemer on his lamps was a result of his change of religion; but to explain the case it is not necessary to accept this theory. I believe he was a pagan, and that the lamps with the Good Shepherd were produced by him to order, and from a design supplied to him by a member of the local congregation.

Lamp of Annius Ser......, with figure of the Good Shepherd.

Another question concerning the behavior of early Christians has reference to their military service under the imperial eagles, and to the cases of conscience which may have arisen from it. On this I may refer the reader to the works of Mamachi, Lami, Baumgarten, Le Blant, and de Rossi,13 who have discussed the subject thoroughly. Speaking from the point of view of material evidence, I have to record several discoveries which prove that officers and men of the cohortes prætoriæ and urbanæ could serve with equal loyalty their God and their sovereign.

In November, 1885, I was present at the discovery of a marble sarcophagus in the military burial-grounds of the Via Salaria, opposite the gate of the Villa Albani. It bore two inscriptions, one on the lid, the other on the body. The first defies interpretation;14 the second mentions the name of a little girl, Publia Ælia Proba, who was the daughter of a captain of the ninth battalion of the prætorians, and a lady named Clodia Plautia. They were all Christians; but for a reason unknown to us, they avoided making a show of their persuasion, and were buried among the gentiles.

Another stray Christian military tomb, erected by a captain of the sixth battalion, named Claudius Ingenuus, was found, in 1868, in the Vigna Grandi, near S. Sebastiano. Here also we find the intention of avoiding an open profession of faith. A regular cemetery of Christian prætorians was found in the spring of the same year by Marchese Francesco Patrizi, in his villa adjoining the prætorian camp. It is neither large nor interesting, and it seems to prove that the gospel must have made but few proselytes in the imperial barracks.

We must not believe that the transformation of Rome from a pagan into a Christian city was a sudden and unexpected event, which took the world by surprise. It was the natural result of the work of three centuries, brought to maturity under Constantine by an inevitable reaction against the violence of Diocletian's rule. It was not a revolution or a conversion in the true sense of these words; it was the official recognition of a state of things which had long ceased to be a secret. The moral superiority of the new doctrines over the old religions was so evident, so overpowering, that the result of the struggle had been a foregone conclusion since the age of the first apologists. The revolution was an exceedingly mild one, the transformation almost imperceptible. No violence was resorted to, and the tolerance and mutual benevolence so characteristic of the Italian race was adopted as the fundamental policy of State and Church.

The transformation may be followed stage by stage in both its moral and material aspect. There is not a ruin of ancient Rome that does not bear evidence of the great change. Many institutions and customs still flourishing in our days are of classical origin, and were adopted, or tolerated, because they were not in opposition to Christian principles. Beginning with the material side of the question, the first monument to which I have to refer is the Arch of Constantine, raised in 315 at the foot of the Palatine, where the Via Triumphalis diverges from the Sacra Via.

ARCH OF CONSTANTINE

The importance of this arch, from the point of view of the question treated in this chapter, rests not on its sculptured panels and medallions,—spoils taken at random from older structures, from which the arch has received the nickname of Æsop's crow (la cornacchia di Esopo),—but on the inscription engraved on each side of the attic. "The S. P. Q. R. have dedicated this triumphal arch to Constantine, because instinctu divinitatis (by the will of God), and by his own virtue, etc., he has liberated the country from the tyrant [Maxentius] and his faction." The opinion long prevailed among archæologists that the words instinctu divinitatis were not original, but added after Constantine's conversion. Cardinal Mai thought that the original formula was diis faventibus, "by the help of the gods," while Henzen suggested nutu Iovis optimi maximi, "by the will of Jupiter." Cavedoni was the first to declare that the inscription had never been altered, and that the two memorable words—the first proclaiming officially the name of the true God in the face of imperial Rome—belonged to the original text, sanctioned by the Senate. The controversy was settled in 1863, when Napoleon III. obtained from the Pope the permission to make a plaster cast of the arch. With the help of the scaffolding, the scholars of the time examined the inscription, the shape of each letter, the holes of the bolts by which the gilt-bronze letters were fastened, the joints of the marble blocks, the color and quality of the marble, and decided unanimously that the inscription had never been tampered with, and that none of its letters had been changed.

The arch was raised in 315. Was Constantine openly professing his faith at that time? Opinions are divided. Some think he must have waited until the defeat of Licinius in 323; others suggest the year 311 as a more probable date of his profession. The supporters of the first theory quote in its favor the fact that the pagan symbols and images of gods appear on coins struck by Constantine and his sons; but this fact is easily explained, when we consider that the coinage of bronze was a privilege of the Senate, and that the Senate was pagan by a large majority. Many of Constantine's constitutions and official letters speak in favor of an early declaration of faith. When the Donatists appealed to him from the verdict of the councils of Arles and Rome, he wrote to the bishops: Meum judicium postulant, qui ipse judicium Christi expecto: "They appeal to me, when I myself must be judged by Christ." The verdict of the council of Rome against the sectarians was rendered on October 2, 313, in the "palace of Fausta in the Lateran;" the imperial palace of the Lateran, therefore, had already been handed over to the bishop of Rome, and a portion of it turned into a place of worship. The basilica of the Lateran still retains its title of "Mother and head of all churches of Rome, and of the world," ranking above those of S. Peter and S. Paul in respect to age.

Such being the state of affairs when the triumphal arch was erected, nothing prevents us from believing those two words to be original, and to express the relations then existing between the first Christian emperor and the old pagan Senate. At all events, nothing is more uncompromising than these two words, because the titles of Deus summus, Deus altissimus, magnus, æternus, are constantly found on monuments pertaining to the worship of Atys and Mithras. "These words," concludes de Rossi, "far from being a profession of Christianity engraved on the arch at a later period, are simply a 'moyen terme,' a compromise, between the feelings of the Senate and those of the emperor."15

Many facts related by contemporary documents prove that the change of religion was, at the beginning, a personal affair with the emperor, and not a question of state; the emperor was a Christian, but the old rules of the empire were not interfered with. In dealing with his pagan subjects Constantine showed so much tact and impartiality as to cast doubts upon the sincerity of his conversion. He has been accused of having accepted from the people of Hispellum (Spello, in Umbria), the honor of a temple, and from the inhabitants of Roman Africa that of a priesthood for the worship of his own family (sacerdotium Flaviæ gentis). The exculpation is given by Constantine himself in his address of thanks to the Hispellates: "We are pleased and grateful for your determination to raise a temple in honor of our family and of ourselves; and we accept it, provided you do not contaminate it with superstitious practices." The honor of a temple and of a priesthood, therefore, was offered and accepted as a political demonstration, as an act of loyalty, and as an occasion for public festivities, both inaugural and anniversary.

Picture of Orpheus found in the Catacombs of Priscilla.

In accepting rites and customs which were not offensive to her principles and morality, the Church showed equal tact and foresight, and contributed to the peaceful accomplishment of the transformation. These rites and customs, borrowed from classical times, are nowhere so conspicuous as in Rome. Giovanni Marangoni, a scholar of the last century, wrote a book on this subject which is full of valuable information.16 The subject is so comprehensive, and in a certain sense so well known, that I must satisfy myself by mentioning only a few particulars connected with recent discoveries. First, as to symbolic images allowed in churches and cemeteries. Of Orpheus playing on the lyre, while watching his flock, as a substitute for the Good Shepherd, there have been found in the catacombs four paintings, two reliefs on sarcophagi, one engraving on a gem. Here is the latest representation discovered, from the Catacombs of Priscilla (1888).

The Four Seasons, from the Imperial Palace, Ostia.

The belief that the sibyls had prophesied the advent of Christ made their images popular. The church of the Aracœli is particularly associated with them, because tradition refers the origin of its name to an altar—ARA PRIMOGENITI DEI—raised to the son of God by the emperor Augustus, who had been warned of his advent by the sibylline books. For this reason the figures of Augustus and of the Tiburtine sibyl are painted on either side of the arch above the high altar. They have actually been given the place of honor in this church; and formerly, when at Christmas time the Presepio was exhibited in the second chapel on the left, they occupied the front row, the sibyl pointing out to Augustus the Virgin and the Bambino who appeared in the sky in a halo of light. The two figures, carved in wood, have now disappeared; they were given away or sold thirty years ago, when a new set of images was offered to the Presepio by prince Alexander Torlonia. Prophets and sibyls appear also in Renaissance monuments; they were modelled by della Porta in the Santa Casa at Loretto, painted by Michelangelo in the Sistine chapel, by Raphael in S. Maria della Pace, by Pinturicchio in the Borgia apartments, engraved by Baccio Baldini, a contemporary of Sandro Botticelli, and "graffite" by Matteo di Giovanni in the pavement of the Duomo at Siena.

The images of the Four Seasons are not uncommon on Christian sarcophagi. The latest addition to this class of subjects is to be found in the church of S. Paolo alle Tre Fontane. Four medallions of polychrome mosaic, representing the Hiems, Ver, Æstas, and Autumnus, discovered in the so-called imperial palace at Ostia, were inserted in the pavement of this church by order of Pius IX. Galenus and Hippokrates, manipulating medicines and cordials, were painted in the lower basilica at Anagni, Hermes Trismegistos was represented in mosaic in the Duomo of Siena, the labors of Hercules were carved in ivory in the cathedra of S. Peter's. Montfaucon describes the tomb of the poet Sannazzaro in the church of the Olivetans, Naples, as ornamented with the statues of Apollo and Minerva, and with groups of satyrs. In the eighteenth century the ecclesiastical authorities tried to give a less profane aspect to the composition, by engraving the name of David under the Apollo, and of Judith under the Minerva. Another mixture of sacred and profane conceptions is to be found in the names of some of our Roman churches,—as S. Maria in Minerva, S. Stefano del Cacco (Kynokephalos), S. Lorenzo in Matuta, S. Salvatore in Tellure, all conspicuous landmarks in the history of the transformation of Rome.

I shall mention one more instance. The portrait bust of S. Paul, of silver gilt, from the chapel of the Sancta Sanctorum, was loaded with gems and intaglios of Greek or Græco-Roman workmanship, among which was a magnificent cameo with the portrait-head of Nero, which had been worn, most probably, by the very murderer of the apostle.17

Ancient Candelabrum in the church of SS. Nereo ed Achilleo.

In the next chapter I shall speak of ancient temples as museums of statuary, galleries of pictures, and cabinets of precious objects. I need not describe the acceptance and development of this tradition by the Church. To it we are indebted for the inexhaustible wealth in works of art of every kind, of which Italy is so proud. But in the period which elapsed between the fall of the empire and the foundation of the Cosmati school, the Christians were compelled, by the want of contemporary productions, to borrow works of art and decorative fragments from temples, palaces, and tombs. The gallery of the Candelabra, in the Vatican museum, has been formed mostly of specimens formerly set up in churches. The accompanying cut represents the candelabrum still existing in the church of SS. Nereo ed Achilleo, one of the most exquisite and delicate works of the kind. The Biga, or two-horse chariot, in the Vatican, was used for centuries as an episcopal throne in the choir of S. Mark's. In the church of the Aracœli there was an altar dedicated to Isis by some one who had returned safely from a perilous journey. This bore the conventional emblem of two footprints, which were believed by the Christians to be the footprints of the angel seen by Gregory the Great on the summit of Hadrian's tomb. Philip de Winghe describes them as those of a puer quinquennis, a boy five years old.18 This curious relic has been removed to the Capitoline Museum.

The indifference with which these profane and sometimes offensive works were admitted within sacred edifices is astonishing. The high altar in the church of S. Teodoro was supported, until 1703, by a round ara, on the rim of which the following words are now engraved: "On this marble of the gentiles incense was offered to the gods." Another altar, in the church of S. Michele in Borgo, was covered with bas-reliefs and legends belonging to the superstition of Cybele and Atys; a third, in the church of the Aracœli, had been dedicated to the goddess Annona by an importer of wheat. The pavement of the basilica of S. Paul was patched with nine hundred and thirty-one miscellaneous inscriptions; and so were those of S. Martino ai Monti, S. Maria in Trastevere, SS. Giovanni e Paolo, etc. We have one specimen left of these inscribed pavements in the church of SS. Quattro Coronati on the Cælian, which may be called an epigraphic museum.

The Templum Sacræ Urbis (SS. Cosma e Damiano).

In the third chapter I shall have occasion to describe the transformation of nearly all the great public buildings of imperial Rome into places of Christian worship, but it falls within the scope of this chapter to remark that, in many instances, the pagan decorations of those buildings were not affected by the change. When Felix IV. took possession of the templum sacræ urbis, and dedicated it to SS. Cosma and Damianus, the walls of the building were covered with incrustations of the time of Septimius Severus representing the wolf and other profane emblems. Pope Felix not only accepted them as an ornament to his church, but tried to copy them in the apse which he rebuilt. The same process was followed by Pope Simplicius (a. d. 468-483), in transforming the basilica of Junius Bassus on the Esquiline into the church of S. Andrea.19 The faithful, raising their eyes towards the tribune, could see the figures of Christ and his apostles in mosaic; turning to the side walls, they could see Nero, Galba, and six other Roman emperors, Diana hunting the stag, Hylas stolen by the nymphs, Cybele on the chariot drawn by lions, a lion attacking a centaur, the chariot of Apollo, figures performing mysterious Egyptian rites, and other such profanities, represented in opus sectile marmoreum, a sort of Florentine mosaic. This unique set of intarsios was destroyed in the sixteenth century by the French Antonian monks for a reason worth relating. They believed that the glutinous substance by which the layer of marble or mother-of-pearl was kept fast was an excellent remedy against the ague; hence every time one of them was attacked by fever, a portion of those marvellous works was sacrificed. Fever must have raged quite fiercely among the French monks, because when this wanton practice was stopped, only four pictures were left. Two are now preserved in the church of S. Antonio, in the chapel of the saint; two in the Palazzo Albani del Drago alle Quattro Fontane, on the landing of the stairs.20

Mosaic from the church of S. Andrea.

Intarsios of the same kind have been seen and described in the basilica of S. Croce in Gerusalemme, in the church of S. Stefano Rotondo, in that of S. Adriano, etc. When the offices adjoining the Senate Hall were transformed into the church of S. Martina, the side walls were adorned with the bas-reliefs of the triumphal arch of M. Aurelius, now in the Palazzo dei Conservatori (first landing, nos. 42, 43, 44). One of them, representing the emperor sacrificing before the Temple of Jupiter, is given opposite page 90.

The decoration of the churches, like that of the temples, was mostly done by private contributions and gifts of works of art. The laying out of the pavement, for instance, or the painting of the walls was apportioned to voluntary subscribers, each of whom was entitled to inscribe his name on his section of the work. The pavement of the lower basilica of Parenzo, in Dalmatia, is divided into mosaic panels of various sizes, representing vases, wreaths, fish, and animals; and to each panel is appended the name of the contributor:—

"Lupicinus and Pascasia made one hundred [square] feet.

"Clamosus and Successa, one hundred feet.

"Felicissimus and his relatives, one hundred feet.

"Fausta, the patrician, and her relatives, sixty feet.

"Claudia, devout woman, and her niece Honoria, made one hundred and ten feet, in fulfilment of a vow."21

Theseus killing the Minotaur in the labyrinth of Crete, and labyrinths in general, were favorite subjects for church pavements, especially among the Gauls. The custom is very ancient, a labyrinth having been represented in the church of S. Vitale at Ravenna as early as the sixth century. Those of the cathedral at Lucca, of S. Michele Maggiore at Pavia, of S. Savino at Piacenza, of S. Maria in Trastevere at Rome (destroyed in the restoration of 1867), are of a later date. The image of Theseus is accompanied by a legend in the "leonine" rhythm:—

Theseus intravit, monstrumque biforme necavit

The symbolism of the subject is explained thus: The labyrinth, so easy of access, but from which no one can escape, is symbolical of human life. At the time of the Crusades, church labyrinths began to be used for a practical purpose. The faithful were wont to go over the meandering paths on their knees, murmuring prayers in memory of the passion of the Lord. Under the influence of this practice the classic and Carolingian name—labyrinth—was forgotten; and the new one of rues de Jerusalem, or leagues, adopted. The rues de Jerusalem in the cathedral at Chartres, designed in blue marble, were 666 feet long; and it took an hour to finish the pilgrimage. Later the labyrinths lost their religious meaning, and became a pastime for idlers and children. The one in the church at Saint-Omer has been destroyed, because the celebration of the office was often disturbed by irreverent visitors trying the sport.22

In Rome we have several instances of these private artistic contributions in the service of churches. The pavement of S. Maria in Cosmedin is the joint offering of many parishioners; and so were those of S. Lorenzo fuori le Mura and S. Maria Maggiore before their modern restoration. The names of Beno de Rapiza, his wife Maria Macellaria, and his children Clement and Attilia are attached to the frescoes of the lower church of S. Clemente; and that of Beno alone to the paintings of S. Urbano alla Caffarella. In the apse of S. Sebastiano in Pallara, on the Palatine, and in that of S. Saba on the Aventine, we read the names of a Benedictus and of a Saba, at whose expense the apses were decorated.

We cannot help following with emotion the development of this artistic feeling even among the lowest classes of mediæval Rome.23 We read of an Ægidius, son of Hippolytus, a shoemaker of the Via Arenula, leaving his substance to the church of S. Maria de Porticù, with the request that it should be devoted to the building of a chapel, "handsome and handsomely painted, so that everybody should take delight in looking at it." Such feelings, exceptional in many Italian provinces, were common throughout Tuscany. When the triptych of Duccio Buoninsegna, now in the "Casa dell' opera" at Siena, was carried from his studio to the Duomo, June 9, 1310, the whole population followed in a triumphant procession. Renzo di Maitano, another Sienese artist of fame, had the soul of a poet. He was the first to advocate the erection of a church, "grand, beautiful, magnificent, whose just proportions in height, breadth, and length should so harmonize with the details of the decoration as to make it decorous and solemn, and worthy of the worship of Christ in hymns and canticles, for the protection and glory of the city of Siena." So spoke the artists of that age, and their language was understood and felt by the multitudes. Their lives were made bright and cheerful in spite of the troubles and misfortunes which weighed upon their countries. Think of such sentiments in our age!