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The origin and development of continuous narrative in Roman art, 300 B.C. - A.D. 200
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The origin and development of continuous narrative in Roman art, 300 B.C. - A.D. 200
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Content
THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF CONTINUOUS NARRATIVE
IN ROMAN ART, 300 B.C. – A.D. 200
by
Roger David Von Dippe
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(ART HISTORY)
December 2007
Copyright 2007 Roger David Von Dippe
ii
Dedication
This Dissertation is dedicated to John Pollini,
Praeceptori Optimo.
iii
Acknowledgements
I also wish to acknowledge, with gratitude, the constructive criticism offered by
Anthony Boyle, Ann Marie Yasin and Peter Holliday and the assistance in obtaining
access to sites in Pompeii provided by Steven Ellis of the Pompeii Archaeological
Research Project, Porta Stabiae.
iv
Table of Contents
Dedication ii
Acknowledgements iii
List of Tables v
List of Figures vi
Abstract xvi
Introduction 1
PART I: Introduction. 27
Chapter 1: The Antecedents of Roman Continuous Narrative. 33
Chapter 2: The Social Context of Roman Continuous Narrative. 92
Chapter 3: The Influence of Roman Cultural Production on Narrative Art. 141
PART II: Introduction 200
Chapter 4: Continuous Narratives of the Republic and Early Empire. 217
Chapter 5: Flavian and Trajanic Continuous Narratives. 354
Chapter 6: Antonine and Severan Continuous Narratives. 435
Chapter 7: Conclusions. 506
Bibliography 514
v
List of Tables
Table 1: Types of Pictorial Narrative 15
Table 2: Classification of Visual Narrative 18
vi
List of Figures
1. Black-figure kylix. Odysseus and Polyphemus. 10
2. The Francois Vase. Death of Troilus. 11
3. The Hunter Palette. Hunters and wild beasts. 34
4. The Narmer Palette. The victories of king Narmer over his enemies. 34
5. The Tomb of Nabamun. The visit of a Syrian patient to the physician,
Nabamun. 36
6. Tomb of Tutu. The reward of Tutu for civic achievements. 37
7. Tomb of Mahu. The apprehension of a criminal by the chief of police,
Mahu. 37
8. The Battle of Qadesh. 39
9. The Standard of Ur. Scenes of battle and feasting. 41
10. The Siege of Lachish. The Assyrian army. 45
11. The Siege of Lachish. The army ascends the siege ramps. 45
12. The Siege of Lachish. The king holds audience before his tent. 45
13. The Siege of Lachish. The Assyrian camp. 45
14. Phoenician Bowl. The legendary story of a battle with an ape. 46
15. Wall painting of a Sea Battle, Thera. 48
16. Flotilla. Wall painting of an official visit by sea, Thera. 49
17a. Attic red-figure kylix. Briseis leaves the tent of Achilles. 52
17b. Attic red-figure kylix. Briseis is conducted to Agamemnon. 52
18a. Red-figure kylix. Theseus and the sow; Theseus and Sinus. 53
18b. Red-figure kylix. Theseus and Skiron; Theseus and Minotaur. 53
vii
19. Attic black-figure dinos. Deeds of Theseus and Herakles combined
with generic scenes of warriors fighting. 54
20. Scythian gorytos. Achilles on Skyros. 57
21. Red-figure hydria. Scenes from the Fall of Troy; Aeneas escaping
from Troy; Ajax raping Cassandra; Neoptolemus slaying Priam;
Andromache attacking a Greek: and the rescue of Aithra. 60
22. Apulian red-figure krater. Nestor and Phoenix beneath a canopy;
Achilles sacrificing Trojan prisoners on the pyre of Patroclus;
Automedon dragging the body of Hector. 61
23.a-e Megarian Bowl. Scenes from Euripides’ Iphegenia at Aulis. 63
24. Bactrian Silver Bowl. Scenes from several plays of Euripides. 64
25. The Telephos Frieze, Panel 12. Herakles discovers his son, Telephos. 65
26. The Telephos Frieze, Panels 38-40. Banquet of the Argive princes for
Telephos. 66
27. The Telephos Frieze, Panels 5,6. Carpenters build a boat for Auge. 66
28. The Telephos Frieze, Panel 8. Nymphs prepare a bath for the infant
Telephos. 67
29. Tabula Peutengeriana. 78
30. The Nile Mosaic. 78
31. Battle frieze from a Republican tomb on the Esquiline. 81
32. Drachma, 242 B.C. Head of Jupiter. 110
33. Victoriatus, 195 B.C. Head of Minerva. 110
34. Denarius, 106 B.C. Voting scene. 110
35. Early Roman Bronze. Togate Roman. 111
36. Relief of a Funeral Procession from Amiternum. 111
37. Tomb of the Haterii. Lying in state and funeral procession. 111
viii
38. Sacrificial Frieze from the Augustan Arch at Susa. 112
39a. Antoninus Pius Base. Decursio. 113
39b. Antoninus Pius Base. Apotheosis. 113
40. Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus. Sea thiasos. 114
41. Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus. Census Frieze. 115
42. Denarius, 31 B.C. Head of Octavian. 154
43. Tetradrachm, 39 B.C. Head of Marc Antony. 154
44. Triumphal Frieze, Arch of Titus. 156
45. Triumphal Frieze, Arch of Trajan, Beneventum. 156
46. Statue of a Roman General, ca. 125 B.C. 158
47. Statue of a Togate Roman Orator (Arringatore), ca. 80 B.C. 158
48. Republican Victory Relief. 208
49. Terracotta Plaque from the Temple of Apollo Palatinus. The struggle
of Apollo and Hercules for the Delphic tripod. 209
50. Altar of C. Manlius. Front panel, sacrificial scene. 229
51. Altar of C. Manlius. Side panel, Lar between two laurel trees. 230
52. Altar of C. Manlius. Rear panel, two scenes from the life of C. Manlius
and his family. 230
53. Frieze from the Basilica Aemilia. The Rape of the Sabines. 237
54. Frieze from the Basilica Aemilia. The Punishment of Tarpeia. 237
55a. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii. The Early History of Rome.
West Wall. 240
55b. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii. The Early History of Rome.
South Wall. 241
ix
55c. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii. The Early History of Rome.
East Wall. 242
55d. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii. The Early History of Rome.
North Wall. 243
56. Hunting scene from the frieze on the façade of the Tomb of Philip,
Vergina. 253
57. The Grave Stele of Hediste. Deathbed scene. 253
58. The Munich Relief. Sacrificial scene. 254
59. Wall painting from the Villa of P. Fanius Synistor, Pompeii. Second
Style architecture with glimpses of landscape. 255
60. Wall Painting, the House of Livia. Polyphemus and Galatea. 256
61. Monochrome Landscape from the Villa Farnesina. 257
62. Sacroidyllic Landscape from the Augustan Villa at Boscotrecase. 257
63. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 2. Arrival in the Land of the Laestrygones. 260
64. The Odyssey Frieze. Scene 3. The Laestrygonian Giants gather rocks. 260
65. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 4. Destruction of Odysseus’ ships. 260
66. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 6. Odysseus in Circe’s palace. 260
67. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 8,9. Odysseus in the underworld. 260
68. The Frieze in the Villa of the Mysteries, Pompeii. 265
69. Section of the Frieze in the House of the Cryptoporticus, Pompeii. 270
70. Stucco Frieze in the House of the Trojan Frieze, Pompeii. 270
71. Trojan Friezes in the House of D. Octavius Quarto, Pompeii. 271
72. Polyphemus and Galatea from the Augustan Villa at Boscotrecase. 276
73. Polyphemus and Galatea, Pompeii 7.4.48. 281
x
74. Polyphemus and Galatea, the House of the Priest Amandus, Pompeii. 282
75. Drawing of Perseus and Andromeda, Pompeii 9.7.16. 285
76. Perseus and Andromeda from the Augustan Villa at Boscotrecase. 286
77. Perseus and Andromeda, the House of the Priest Amandus, Pompeii. 288
78. Daedalus and Icarus, Villa Imperiale, Pompeii. 289
79. Drawing of Daedalus and Icarus, Pompeii 9.6.17. 290
80. Daedalus and Icarus, House of the Priest Amandus, Pompeii. 291
81. Drawing of Daedalus and Icarus, Pompeii 5.2.10. 292
82. Diana and Actaeon, Pompeii 9.2.16. 298
83. Diana and Actaeon. Monochrome landscape from Herculaneum. 299
84. Diana and Actaeon, Pompeii 9.7.16. 300
85. Diana and Actaeon, House of Sallust, Pompeii. 301
86. Diana and Actaeon, House of the Orchard, Pompeii. 302
87. Drawing of Diana and Actaeon, House of Epidius Sabinus, Pompeii. 303
88. The Story of Marsyas, Pompeii 5.2.10. 306
89. Origins of Rome, House of Fabius Secundus, Pompeii. 307
90. The Farnese Bull. Dirce tied to the bull. 310
91. The Punishment of Dirce, House of the Atrium Mosaic, Herculaneum 312
92. The Punishment of Dirce, Herculaneum. 312
93. The Punishment of Dirce, House of the Vetii, Pompeii. 313
94. The Punishment of Dirce, House of Julius Polybius, Pompeii. 316
95. Drawing of the Punishment of Dirce, Pompeii 7.15.2. 318
xi
96. Drawing of the Punishment of Dirce, House of the Quadriga, Pompeii. 319
97. The Capitoline Tablet. Aeneas’ escape from Troy. 331
98. The Odyssey Tablet. Odysseus and Circe. 333
99. The Minerva Frieze, Forum Transitorium, Rome. 356
100. The Minerva Frieze, Section 4. The story of Arachne. 356
101. The Minerva Frieze, Section 4. The story of Arachne, Minerva and
Arachne. 357
102. The Minerva Frieze. Section 4. The story of Arachne. Minerva
displaying her weaving. 358
103. The Minerva Frieze, Section 4. Genre scene of women weaving. 359
104. The Minerva Frieze, Section 4. Genre scene. 359
105. The Minerva Frieze, Section 5. Damaged scene and genre scene of
weaving. 359
106. The Minerva Frieze, Section 3. Pudicitia and nymphs. 360
107. The Minerva Frieze, Section 7. Unidentified scene. 361
108. The Minerva Frieze, Section 8. The story of Arachne, Minerva and
nymphs. 361
109. The Minerva Frieze, Section 2. Venus. 362
110. The Minerva Frieze, Section 6. Ruminia. 362
111. The Minerva Frieze, Section 1. Unknown story. 363
112a-d. Plaster casts of the Great Trajanic Frieze. 368
113. Fragments of an adlocutio from the Great Trajanic Frieze. 375
114. Fragment from the Great Trajanic Frieze. A Dacian swims his horse
across a river. 376
xii
115. The Alexander Sarcophagus. Battle between Greeks and Persians
and a hunting scene. 381
116. The Alexander Mosaic. Alexander puts Darius and his army to flight. 382
117. Alexander relief from Iserna. Alexander routs Darius and the Persian
army. 383
118. Mantua Relief. Battle between Romans and Gauls. 383
119. Monument of Lucius Verus. Battle relief. 384
120. Ludovisi Battle Sarcophagus. Front panel. 385
121. The Column of Trajan. 387
122. Base of the Column of Trajan. 388
123. The Column of Trajan. Council of war. 397
124. The Column of Trajan. First adlocutio. 397
125. The Column of Trajan. First suovetaurilia. 397
126. The Column of Trajan. Building operations. 397
127. The Column of Trajan. Trajan interviews a prisoner. 397
128. The Column of Trajan. The first battle. 398
129. The Column of Trajan. Dacians commit suicide. 400
130. The Column of Trajan. Last appearance of Trajan. 400
131. The Column of Trajan. Foreign auxiliaries. 401
132. The Column of Trajan. Trajan receieves foreign embassies. 401
133. The Column of Trajan. Roman ballistae. 402
134. The Column of Trajan. The testudo. 402
135. The Column of Trajan. Bird’s-eye view of an enclosure. 403
xiii
136. The Column of Trajan. Sacrifice in a port city. 403
137. The Column of Trajan. Soldiers draw water from a stream. 404
138. The Column of Trajan. Trees as scene dividers. 406
139. The Column of Trajan. The Dacians torture Roman prisoners. 407
140. The Column of Trajan. A rocky scene divider. 407
141. The Column of Trajan. Internal scene dividers. 408
142. The Column of Trajan. Two trees and shields as scene dividers. 409
143. The Column of Trajan. Trajan leads the march on horseback. 413
144. The Column of Trajan. Trajan leads the march on foot. 413
145. The Column of Trajan. The great submissio. 414
146. The Column of Trajan. Trajan as helmsman of the fleet. 415
147. The Column of Trajan. Romans treat their wounded. 419
148. The Column of Trajan. Danuvius, personification of the Danube. 421
149. The Column of Trajan. Personification of Night. 421
150. The Column of Trajan. Jupiter Tonans. 421
151. The Column of Trajan. Personification of Victory. 422
152. The Column of Trajan. Personification of Night or Dacia. 422
153. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. 438
154. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Adlocutio. 438
155. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Submissio. 439
156. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Beheading captured enemies. 439
157. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Roman soldiers. 440
xiv
158. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Bird’s-eye view of a fort. 441
159. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. A view of schematized water. 441
160. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Roman auxiliaries. 442
161. The Column of Marcus Aurelius. Scene of sacrifice. 443
162. The Arch of Septimius Severus. 445
163a. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel I. 449
163b. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel I, Bartoli Drawing. 449
164a. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel II. 450
164b. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel II, Bartoli Drawing. 451
165a. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel III. 453
165b. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel III, Bartoli Drawing. 453
166a. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel IV. 454
166b. The Arch of Septimius Severus. Panel IV, Bartoli Drawing. 454
167. Column of Marcus Aurelius. Battle scene. 460
168. Biographical Sarcophagus of a General. Los Angeles. 465
169. Biographical Sarcophagus of a General. Florence. 465
170. The Column of Trajan. Sacrifice. 468
171. Child’s Biographical Sarcophagus. Scenes of childhood, apothesis. 472
172. Child’s Biographical Sarcophagus. Scenes of childhood, education. 472
173. Child’s Biographical Sarcophagus. Birth, deathbed and apotheosis. 473
174. Child’s Biographical Sarcophagus. Education, deathbed and birth. 474
175. Mythological Sarcophagus. The Labors of Hercules. 478
xv
176. Dionysiac Sarcophagus. 479
177. Meleager Sarcophagus. Prehunt conference and boar hunt. 482
178. Meleager Sarcophagus. The boar hunt. 483
179. Meleager Sarcophagus. The boar hunt. 484
180. Meleager Sarcophagus. Prehunt conference and boar hunt. 485
181. Meleager Sarcophagus. The boar hunt. 486
182. Meleager Sarcophagus. Meleager and his uncle, Althaea casts the
brand into the fire, Meleager’s deathbed, Meleager and Atalanta. 488
183. Meleager Sarcophagus. Bringing Meleager’s body home, with child
protagonists. 489
184. Meleager Sarcophagus. Bringing Meleager’s body home. 489
185. Meleager Sarcophagus.The death of Meleager, bringing the body
home and the suicide of Althaea. 489
186. Sarcophagus of Euhodis and Metilia. Story of Alcestis. Deathbed of
Alcestis, Alcestis and Admetus reunited by Hercules. 492
187. Alcestis Sarcophagus. Deathbed of Alcestis, reunion of Alcestis and
Admetus. 494
xvi
Abstract
The dissertation investigates the continuous narrative format in Roman art,
exploring its origins in art of the ancient Mediterranean and discussing developments
in the interdisciplinary context of Roman culture and society. Although individual
examples of continuous narrative have been extensively studied, no synthesis to date
has related the various artifacts as members of a distinct genre or attempted to situate
such a genre as the product of Roman societal, cultural and intellectual
developments. The study provides a novel approach to both Roman narratology and
the investigation of message transmission between ancient artists and their audience.
Continuous narrative is one of the rare genres of Roman art for which there are
few Greek antecedents. A consensus exists that the format advanced considerably in
the Roman era, in directions that went substantially beyond extant Greek examples.
The study addresses reasons for the popularity of the style in Roman art and
investigates specific developments it underwent in Roman hands, situating these
developments in the context of Roman society and culture.
Topics addressed in Part I of the dissertation include: The origin and antecedents
of Roman continuous narrative; Roman social structures and beliefs that influenced
narrative art; Roman attitudes to Greek culture and their effect on cultural
production; and the influence of other aesthetic and intellectual disciplines on the
content and style of Roman visual narrative. Part II is devoted to the examination of
individual examples of continuous narrative in Roman art, including public relief
sculpture, funerary commemorations and paintings from a domestic context.
xvii
The study concludes that major Roman innovations in continuous narration
include the development of extensive landscape backgrounds and the invention of
the panel type of continuous narration. This new continuous format introduced the
deliberate inconsistencies in size and perspective that became a feature of visual
narratives of the Imperial period. The popularity of continuous narration in Roman
art is correlated with a proclivity for telling complex stories as completely as
possible, combined with a willingness to sacrifice the rational, realistic
representation of space and time, subordinating such considerations to viewer
reception and impartation of a desired message to an audience.
1
Introduction:
Since the beginnings of speech and image-making made human communication
possible, stories and the means by which they are conveyed have become
immeasurably more complex. However, the three basic requirements for a narrative
remain unchanged; a narrator, the storyteller; a sequence of events, the story; and an
audience. The narrator communicates with his audience by verbal or visual means, or
by some combination of the two. Three forms of narrative were available to Greco-
Roman audiences of the ancient world. The first, the purely verbal narrative, could
be in written or oral form.
1
The earliest narratives were undoubtedly oral, and the
first written stories, the Trojan Cycle, probably appeared in the early 7
th
century
B.C.
2
No evidence exists for the visual elements of illustration in any written story
prior to the 2
nd
century A.D., although Kurt Weitzmann and others have argued for a
Hellenistic origin for the illuminated manuscript.
3
The second type of ancient narrative, the theatrical performance, achieved great
popularity and acclaim, first in the Greek and then in the Roman era, a popularity
that lasted from the 6
th
century B.C. until the fall of the Roman Empire. In the theater
the story was communicated by both verbal and visual means, the words of the actors
and chorus enhanced and elaborated by means of actions, body language and
costume. The visual element of stage scenery was added in Classical Athens and
attained great sophistication in Roman spectacular productions.
4
The final form of ancient narrative was the purely visual narrative, in which
episodes from a story were shown through the medium of relief sculpture or
2
painting. Some scholars have discerned narrative elements in 8
th
century Geometric
vase paintings, and the genre of narrative art was certainly well established by the
Archaic period.
5
Archaic Greek vases tended to label the participants with names as
an aid to viewer identification, and the practice was continued to some extent in later
Greek art. A very few examples of Hellenistic and Roman visual narrative contain
excerpts from the text of a written narrative. For the most part, however, they relied
wholly on visual clues provided by the narrator to identify the story and on the
ability of viewers to recognize and process these aids to identification.
It is readily apparent that no story is ever totally complete. Restrictions of time
and space dictate that a major task of the narrator is to select what he will include
and what he will leave out, the literary story having the greatest possibility of
completeness. Aristotle ( Poet. 1459b) prefers the literary narrative to scenic
productions because a literary narrative can treat several episodes simultaneously.
For literary narratives, restrictions of time and space are less onerous than they are
for the other forms of narrative, and the author has the opportunity to editorialize, to
describe thoughts and emotions in addition to actions, and to choose any setting for
the story that can be described in words.
The ancient dramatic narrative suffered from greater restrictions than the literary
narrative. The duration of the play was defined and its action confined to the space of
a stage or arena. Although Roman spectacles aspired to casts of thousands, generally
the number of characters was limited, and, once scenery was introduced, so was the
number of scene changes and settings. Certain actions were either difficult to
3
reproduce realistically on stage or were considered unsuitable for public display, as
Horace makes clear in his Ars Poetica (180.2). The Greeks, for example, never
showed the act of murder on stage but had the deed reported by messengers or the
chorus. The Romans were less squeamish and, in the later Republican and Imperial
periods, even coerced condemned criminals into roles requiring death or
dismemberment on stage (Mart. Spect. 7.5). Even though the Romans were noted for
their realistic special effects, certain phenomena were beyond their expertise, so
dramatic presentations would always remain inferior to purely verbal productions in
the potential for complete narration.
The greatest limitations were imposed on visual narratives. The artist was
provided with a strictly defined space, usually on the two-dimensional surface of a
vessel or the wall of a building. Within this space he was required to display his
choice of moments, selected from a more extended narrative and frozen in time. The
relationship of these actions to a larger story could sometimes be suggested by the
choice of iconography and, if more than a single scene was displayed, their
continuity and sequence defined by their arrangement. However, it was ultimately
the task of the viewer to recognize the story, make connections between scenes and
supply the missing segments of the narrative, becoming, in effect, a partner in
narration.
6
In order to fulfill this dual role of narrator and audience, a degree of prior
knowledge of the story was required of the viewer, a fact made evident by the
frequent failures during the Renaissance to identify the stories of newly rediscovered
Greco-Roman art, as well as the continuation of controversies about subject matter
4
even in more recent times. It could be argued that the requirement of familiarity with
the story excludes purely visual storytelling from the category of true narrative.
Visual images do not tell a story but only refresh the memory of what has already
been assimilated from oral or written versions. A rebuttal to this exclusion relies on
the incomplete nature of all storytelling and the necessity for audience interpretation
and reconstruction.
7
Even the literary narrative does not describe every action and
every thought of its characters. Aristotle, in his Poetics (6.2) advised including only
actions that are serious, complete and of a certain magnitude. Thus Homer, in writing
the Odyssey, did not include everything that happened to the hero (Poet. 8.3). The
sophist Demetrius, (Eloc. 226), writing on literary and rhetorical style in the 1
st
century A.D., advised authors not to elaborate every detail but to leave some things
for the reader to work out for himself. Interpretation provides a sense of
accomplishment, a pride in intelligence, and predisposes the reader to regard the
work in a favorable light. More recently the application of semiotics and its
postmodernist developments to artistic and literary criticism has stressed the role of
reader or viewer in interpretation, and the resulting polysemy of meaning derives
from differences in the knowledge, background and culture of the recipients.
8
A
degree of basic societal and cultural knowledge is required for the interpretation of
any story. In the case of visual stories the greater extent of the requirement is,
therefore, a matter of degree rather than the reflection of an intrinsic difference
between visual and verbal modes of storytelling.
5
The most egregious restriction on visual narrative is the availability of space.
Various methods for increasing the number of narrative episodes that could be
shown in a given area were adopted from the earliest times by the peoples
surrounding the Mediterranean. The first of these devices was horizontal registration.
Successive groundlines were arranged, one above the other, each forming a base for
a separate incident. This method can be found in Egyptian tomb paintings, the
paintings on the palace walls of Assyrian kings, on larger Greek vases such as the
Francois vase and in an early Roman battle painting from the Esquiline.
The second method was based on the vertical division of space. Individual scenes
were shown on the same horizontal level, separated either by undivided space, as in
the majority of Greek vase paintings, by some form of scene divider reaching from
top to bottom of the pictorial space, or by horizontal arrangement on separate
architectural areas, such as the metopes of a Doric temple. The final attempt to
increase the number of episodes in a limited space involved showing successive
scenes as though they occupied the same or closely contiguous spaces, with no clear
division between distinct events. This method of presentation is termed continuous
narrative by some scholars and is the subject of this study. The object of my work is
to trace the unique development of such narratives in Roman art, to examine the
different forms of continuous narrative and to situate them in the context of Roman
culture and society.
Obviously, an analysis and discussion of the continuous narrative style requires a
comprehensive definition of this genre of narrative art, in order to distinguish the
6
style from other methods of arrangement employed for visual narratives. Various
classification systems for ancient narrative have been devised, based on both the
number of scenes and their arrangement in space. Some of these systems include
continuous narrative as a separate category, while others do not, and continuous
narrative has been defined in a variety of ways. The definition used in this study is
based on a review of the previous attempts at classification that are outlined below.
A prerequisite for scholarly attempts to classify and categorize visual narrative
should be a precise enumeration of the requirements necessary for a painting or
sculpture to be included in the genre of narrative art. This necessity was recognized
at an influential symposium on narration in ancient art, held by the Archaeological
Institute of America in 1955. The participants agreed that narrative art would be
identified as art in which the purpose of the artist was to represent a specific event,
involving specific persons and, moreover, an event sufficiently noteworthy to
deserve recording.
9
This definition was intended to address one of the two major
sources of contention in discussions focusing on narrative art. Its purpose was to
exclude from consideration the genre scene, i.e. a scene drawn from everyday life.
Also excluded were generic scenes that do not show a specific event with named or
recognizable participants. Genre scenes and generic representations have usually
been defined as non-narrative, although certain scholars have argued for their
inclusion in narrative art.
10
The second aspect of visual narrative that has engendered debate is the number of
events necessary to constitute a narrative. Definitions based on verbal storytelling
7
emphasize the requirement for a temporal sequence in narration. Gerald Prince, for
example, defines a narrative as a representation of events, one of which occurs at
time t and at least one other at a later time t
1.
11
According to this definition, a
narrative requires at least two sequential events. All representations of a single event
at a single time are non-narrative, resulting in the exclusion of the majority of Greek
art usually discussed in the narrative category and a large proportion of Roman art.
Single, isolated scenes picturing a single event are by far the most common form of
reference to established stories in Greco-Roman art. A few researchers, such as
P.G.P. Meyboom, in a study on narrative in Greek art, have agreed with this
restriction on the narrative category and consequently concluded that narrative was
rare in Greek art.
12
Others have simply ignored the requirement for a temporal
sequence and accepted the representation of a single moment in time from a single
story as fully narrative. Yet others have acknowledged the problems associated with
these so-called monoscenic representations and attempted to justify their inclusion in
the narrative category. Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell argues that a monoscenic
representation should be considered narrative provided it implies at least one
additional event in the past or future.
13
A battle scene, for example, implies a cause
in the past and an outcome in the future. Although Stansbury-O’Donnel does not
draw this particular inference, his argument hinges on the participation of the viewer
in narration that was discussed above. Any visual narrative requires the viewer to
recognize the story and fill in missing events. The task of the viewer becomes easier
as the number of events shown increases, but the requirement for viewer
8
reconstruction is in effect for both the 155 scenes on Trajan’s Column and the single
scene on a Greek vase. The time sequence and additional events needed to convert a
visual rendition into a narrative are supplied by the viewer, and to draw a distinction
between a single scene and two scenes, admitting the latter to the narrative category
and excluding the former, appears arbitrary once it is acknowledged that some events
in any narrative exist only in the mind and imagination of its audience. In other
words, neither a single picture nor a series of pictures is constituted into a narrative
until it becomes engaged with an audience.
Ancient artists adopted a variety of methods for conveying stories in visual form,
and modern scholarship has attempted to assign these different approaches to
storytelling into distinct categories. All attempts at the classification of ancient visual
narratives are essentially based on the pioneering effort of Carl Robert in the late 19
th
century.
14
Robert’s study was predicated entirely on Greek examples, as are the
majority of later classifications.
15
Robert distinguished three categories in Greek
narrative art: 1) Complete Narrative ( Kompletive Verfahren), in which objects or
figures from past or future episodes are added to a single scene from a story. 2)
Situation Narrative (Situationsbilder), in which a single moment of time from a story
is depicted in a single scene. 3) Chronicle Style Narrative (Chroniken-Stil), a general
category embracing all narratives showing two or more incidents from the same
story, regardless of how they are arranged in space.
Frantz Wickhoff, writing fourteen years later, was apparently unaware of
Robert’s work but, nevertheless, produced three similar categories of narrative art.
16
9
His complementary style is essentially the same as Robert’s complete narrative, and
his isolating style corresponds with Robert’s situation narrative. Wickhoff did not
discuss the spatially separated, individual scenes included in Robert’s chronicle style
but introduced a new category of continuous narrative, applied to an uninterrupted
sequence of scenes in frieze form. Wickhoff concentrated exclusively on Roman art.
His new category was derived from his study of Trajan’s Column, and he made a
continuous landscape background a prerequisite for continuous narrative.
17
The next important classification of ancient narrative was published by Kurt
Weitzmann, the original version appearing in 1947 and a revised edition in 1970.
18
He agreed with Robert in defining three categories of narrative art. Robert’s
complete narrative he renamed “monoscenic,” his situation narrative “simultaneous,”
and his chronicle style “cyclic.” Weitzmann’s designation of cyclic narrative
includes all methods of arranging two or more episodes from the same story, and he
did not retain Wickhoff’s continuous narrative as a distinct category.
In 1978 P.G. P.. Meyboom reviewed the previous efforts at classifying Greek art
and proposed an amended classification.
19
She rejected the single scene as non-
narrative and revived Wickhoff’s term of complementary narrative, with certain
modifications. The idea of including elements from past or future episodes of a story
in a single scene had been illustrated in various publications by a limited number of
Greek vase paintings from the Archaic period. Two feature the blinding of
Polyphemus. On a Protoattic amphora Polyphemus holds a wine cup in one hand and
attempts to ward off the stake Odysseus is driving into his eye with the other.
10
According to the story, Odysseus first made Polyphemus drunk, so that he could
blind the giant with impunity while he slept. The painting includes, in the form of the
wine cup, a reference to this earlier episode.
The second example of the blinding, on a 6
th
century Spartan cup (Fig. 1), is more
complex. The seated Polyphemus holds two
human legs, referring back to his
consumption of Odysseus’ crew. Odysseus,
backed by three of his crew members,
simultaneously offers a wine cup to the
giant and drives a stake into his eye. Two
previous incidents are referred to by the inclusion of objects that do not belong in the
same moment of time as the central action. A third example, on a Corinthian krater,
alludes to both past and future events. At the center of the single scene Amphiarus
mounts into his chariot, ready to depart. On the left his wife, Eripyle, stands holding
the fatal necklace, the cause of her treachery, and on the right the seer, Halimedes,
mourns the death of Amphiarus in the future. The most frequently cited example of
all is from the Francois Vase (Fig. 2). It features the killing of Troilus by Achilles.
The participants are labeled so we know who they are. At the center Achilles, on
foot, pursues Troilus, on horseback. Polyxena, having dropped her hydria, runs
ahead of the horse. Athena, Hermes and Thetis stand behind Achilles, and at the far
left is the fountain house, with a boy and a girl drawing water, a reference to the
Figure 1. Black-figure Kylix. Odysseus and
Polyphemus. National Library. Paris. After
Weitzmann (1970) Fig. 1.
11
situation before Achilles arrived on the scene. At the right Atenor announces the
death of Troilus to Priam, who is seated before the walls of Troy, and from a door in
the wall Hector and Polites emerge to avenge the death. Four incidents are conflated
into a single, extended scene, one event occurring prior to the central scene of
Achilles’ pursuit and two subsequent to it. A few other paintings, such as a scene
from Odysseus’ Circe adventure on a 6
th
century Attic cup, are adduced as examples
of the simultaneous method. All of the common examples, except for the scene on
the Francois Vase, are compatible with Weitzmann’s definition of simultaneous
narrative, the addition of objects or persons from past or future to a central scene.
Meyboom, no doubt realizing that the killing of Troilus did not consist of a single
scene but represented the conflation of four scenes from the story, expanded her
definition of complementary narrative to include not only the addition of figures or
objects but also of smaller scenes from past or future to a central scene. She
stipulated that there should be no repetition of the protagonists. She also revived
Wickhoff’s category of continuous narrative, defining it as the combination of a
series of scenes, as in the complementary method, but without any emphasis on a
Figure 2. The Francois Vase. The Death of Troilus. National
Museum, Florence. Afer Weitzmann (1970) Fig. 2.
12
central scene and permitting repetition of the protagonists. Meyboom considered the
method suitable for a frieze and offered the Telephos Frieze as an example. Her final
category is the cyclic classification, defined as a series of separate, monoscenic
scenes from the same story, featuring the same protagonist.
Since the publication of Meyboom’s study in 1978 a number of scholars have
observed various examples of Greek narrative art that were not accommodated by
extant categories of classification. The result has been a series of either amendments
to existing categories or the proposal of new categories. Anthony Snodgrass,
recognizing that Meyboom’s complementary category actually included two distinct
modes of storytelling, proposed a new category of synoptic narrative, which he
defined as the placing two or more episodes from the same story within a single
conflated picture.
20
The distinction between synoptic narrative and continuous
narrative resides only in the repetition of the protagonists, a prerequisite for
continuous narration that is prohibited in synoptic narrative.
Jeffrey Hurwitt inaugurated a new category of serial narrative, defined as a series
of separate, but contiguous pictures, each showing a single event from the same
story, in which individual characters appear only once.
21
The distinction between
serial and cyclic narrative consists of the number of appearances of the protagonists.
In serial narrative each character appears only once, whereas in cyclic narrative
characters appear multiple times. Hurwitt also endorsed a category, progressive
narrative, previously proposed by Evelyn Harrison.
22
Progressive narrative features a
single event shown in a single picture, but the action reveals a temporal progression
13
from one section of the picture to another. There is a degree of overlap between
Snodgrass’ definition of synoptic narrative and the idea of progressive narrative.
However, synoptic narrative features completely distinct events, whereas progressive
narrative involves a single event, such as a battle or civic ceremony, in which the
actions of the participants in one section apparently took place earlier than the
activities in a different section. From Pausanius’ description (1.15.3) of the Grand
Painting of the Battle of Marathon in the Stoa Poikile, this painting seems to have
shown such a temporal progression, from the initial attack on the left to the defeat
and route of the Persians on the right.
23
H. Alan Shapiro proposed the term “unified narrative” to describe a series of
separate pictures, showing events from the same story that occur at the same time in
different places.
24
Stansbury O’Donnell has added a new category of panoramic
narrative that is similar to unified narrative, since it features several events from the
same story occurring at the same time.
25
However, the events are shown in a single
picture within a single setting.
He references Polygnotos’ paintings of the Nekyia and
the Illiupersis in the Knidian Lesche (Paus. 10.25-27) as probable examples.
Repetition of the protagonists is obviously excluded from both the unified and
panoramic categories.
Finally, Peter von Blanckenhagen modified the category of continuous narrative,
effectively expanding it into two subdivisions.
26
At the 1955 conference on ancient
narrative art he defined continuous narrative as the representation of events,
separated in time, as though they were occurring at the same time in the same setting.
14
“Same setting” could be considered as either one uninterrupted background of
scenery defining a place as a unit, regardless of its size or extent, or, alternatively, a
compositionally unified representation in which persons are comprehended as being
simultaneously present in the same unit of time. The first type of setting is
exemplified by the continuous narrative frieze, in which the setting changes from one
scene to another, so that repetition of the characters does not appear illogical. The
Odyssey Frieze and Trajan’s Column are examples of this type. The second
subcategory is defined as a picture with a single setting. Within this setting distinct
actions, separated in time, occur, and repetition of the protagonists is more puzzling,
as they seem to be appearing simultaneously in two places. This second subdivision
of continuous narrative is exemplified by certain Third Style landscape panels
decorating the walls of Roman houses and by the central scene of the Tabula Iliaca
Capitolinum. Repetition of the characters is a defining characteristic of both types,
indicating to the viewer that the events shown must occur at different times.
In 1999 Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell provided an excellent summary of the
various categories proposed for the classification of ancient narrative art.
27
He
recognized the factors differentiating one category from another and summarized
these characteristics in a Table 1. He relied on the alternatives of single or multiple
pictures, repeats or no repeats of characters, single or multiple moments of time and
single or multiple spaces. These characteristics proved adequate to distinguish
between most categories of narrative art, except that they produce identical results
for cyclic and continuous narrative. Stansbury-O’Donnell has assigned multiple
15
Table 1: Types of Pictorial Narrative
(After Stansbury O’Donnell, Table 1)
Type Number
of Pictures
Characters Time Space
Monoscenic 1 No Repeats One Moment One Space
Syoptic/Simultaneous 1 No Repeats Multiple One
Progressive 1 No Repeats Multiple Multiple
Unified 2+ No Repeats One Multiple
Cyclical 2+ Repeats Multiple Multiple
Continuous 2+ Repeats Multiple One Landscape
Episodic 2+ No Repeats Multiple Multiple
Serial 2+ No Repeats Multiple Multiple
16
pictures to continuous narrative, presumably as a result of considering only the frieze
type of narrative found in Greek art, with its conflated monoscenic representations,
and has ignored the role of the single panel picture. Thus both cyclic and continuous
narrative have multiple pictures, multiple moments in time, repeats of characters and
multiple spaces. Stansbury-O’Donnel has discriminated between the two categories
by assigning to continuous narrative the anomalous designation of “one landscape”
instead of multiple spaces. The requirement for a landscape background to
continuous narrative appears in the definitions provided by Wickhoff and
Blanckenhagen. It is noteworthy that both these scholars were concentrating
exclusively on Roman and Hellenistic art. Experiments in three dimensional illusion
through the provision of landscape or architectural settings for actions made
advances in the Hellenistic period, when compared with attempts in the Archaic and
Classical eras, and the Romans have been credited with developing landscape in its
own right.
28
Many Roman and Hellenistic continuous narratives have landscape or
architectural settings, whereas the few Classical and Archaic examples have either
no defined background or, at best, a rock and a few stylized trees. Meyboom, who
discussed only Greek examples, eliminated consideration of background from her
definition of continuous narrative.
A comprehensive definition of continuous narrative should include both the single
picture and the frieze types and should exclude landscape requirements, so that
Classical and Archaic examples are covered by the definition. It should require
repetition of the protagonists in order to distinguish it from other categories of
17
narrative in which events are conflated, such as simultaneous, synoptic, panoramic
and progressive narratives. The following definition is proposed to accommodate
these requirements and will be employed in this study. Continuous narrative consists
of two or more events from the same story, occurring at different time periods and
featuring the same protagonist in at least two distinct activities. These sequential
events are not separated into definitively segregated regions of space. They share a
background that may contain landscape or architectural elements or may be
completely blank, consisting of so-called negative space. The style has two
subcategories. In the extended frieze type of narrative events are arranged
sequentially against a background continuous from one scene to the next. In the
single panel type, events are distributed within a single, unified setting. The
substitution of the word “background” for “landscape” permits the inclusion of
visual stories that take place before a blank backdrop, narratives specifically
excluded from the category of continuous narration by the definitions of Wickhoff,
Blanckenhagen and Stansbury-O’Donnell. Only visual stories fulfilling these
conditions will be designated as continuous narratives in the succeeding chapters.
Table 2 shows my summation of the various types of visual narrative in ancient
art. I have adopted Weitzmann’s terminology and description of simultaneous
narrative, rather than Meyboom’s term of complementary narrative, for a central
scene to which objects or figures from past or future have been added. The reason for
exclusion of the complementary style is that, as defined by Meyboom, the
classification encompasses at least two distinct types of narrative arrangement.
18
Table 2: Classification of Visual Narrative
Classification Number
of Events
Number
of Times
Number
of Pictures
Characters Arrangement Spaces
Monoscenic 1 1 1 No Repetition Separate 1
Simultaneous 1 2+ 1 No Repetition Conflated 1
Progressive 1 2+ 1 No Repetition Conflated 2+
Synoptic 2+ 2+ 2+ No Repetition Conflated 2+
Unified 2+ 1 2+ No Repetition Separate 2+
Cyclic 2+ 2+ 2+ Repetition Separate 2+
Continuous 2+ 2+ 2+ Repetition Conflated 2+
Continuous Panel 2+ 2+ 1 Repetition Conflated 2+
Serial 2+ 2+ 2+ No Repetition Separate 2+
Panoramic 2+ 1 1 No Repetition Conflated 2+
19
I have adopted Snodgrass’ term of “synoptic narrative” for the second class of
narrative arrangement included in Meyboom’s category of complementary narrative,
in order to avoid possible ambiguities. Synoptic narrative, therefore, designates two
or more continuous scenes from the same narrative that do not feature the same
protagonist. I have designated pictures as either separate or conflated, the term
“conflated” indicating that several events have been shown or indicated without
distinct divisions between these events. Other distinguishing characteristics are
single or multiple events, repetition or no repetition of characters, single or multiple
times and single or multiple pictures. I have concurred with Stansbury-O’Donnel in
considering a frieze, formed by joining monoscenic pictures end to end, to contain
multiple pictures. The classification scheme in Table 2 distinguishes ten distinct
categories of visual narrative. Of these, six employ some form of conflation, of either
time or space. These categories are panoramic, simultaneous, progressive and
synoptic narrative, and the panel and frieze types of continuous narrative. It is readily
apparent that a degree of relationship exists between the various types of conflated
narrative. It is probable that they were motivated by the same desire to indicate that
incidents in a story are connected by something more intricate than a simple, linear
progression in time, or that they represent a similar attempt to direct attention to a
theme that transcends the sequential narration of events. This study will, therefore,
not be limited strictly to the examination of continuous narrative, but include
discussion of other conflated formats that appear to cast light on the message or
purpose of continuous narration in Roman art. Synoptic narrative, in particular, has a
20
close affiliation with continuous narrative, and some examples of this style will be
analyzed in the study.
To date, numerous examples of continuous narrative have been investigated in
the scholarly literature, but no attempt has been made to correlate them as members
of a distinct genre. A comprehensive study of the style may throw light on the
specific functions of art in Roman society, because continuous narrative is one of the
few categories of Roman art that owe little to the Greeks. Etruscan influence and pre-
Greek Italic origins are discernible in some forms of Roman art, but its major
developments of content and style are Greek inspired, to the extent that Roman art is
generally regarded as part of the continuum of Hellenistic art, resulting from the
adaptation of Greek models.
29
However, for two classes of Roman art, landscape and
continuous narrative, the search for Greek antecedents yields a sparse harvest. There
is a scholarly consensus that, although the Romans did not invent either the
continuous narrative or landscape formats, both were considerably advanced in the
Roman era in directions that went beyond extant Greek examples.
30
My study
attempts to determine reasons for the popularity of the continuous narrative style in
Roman art and to examine the specific developments it underwent in Roman hands.
The investigation is intended to illuminate the purpose served by continuous
narrative and the contribution it made to Roman narrative art.
The study is divided into two parts. Part I considers the antecedents and cultural
context of Roman continuous narrative, and Part II discusses individual examples of
the style. Chapter 1 investigates continuous narrative in the art of countries around
21
the Mediterranean that may have influenced Roman art, either directly or through the
medium of Greek art. The chapter includes a survey of early Roman art, in order to
assess possible forerunners of the particular direction taken by continuous narrative
in later Roman art.
Chapter 2 addresses the context of continuous narrative by examining the society
and culture of Rome. Roman national character, ideals, ambitions, ethics, religion
and social customs are reviewed by referencing what the Romans said about
themselves, what others said about them and the syntheses of modern scholarship.
As we shall see, the Romans were primarily motivated to produce art that redounded
to the credit of the patron. Roman monuments were designed to enhance the status of
the sponsor or honoree, since the mainspring of elite society was the pursuit of gloria
in this life and memoria after death. Gloria could be achieved, above all, by military
success and, secondarily, through the civic appointments of the cursus honorum. The
accumulation of wealth was an additional aid to the acquisition of honor and status,
and, after the inundation of Greek culture as a result of Roman empire-building, a
successful man also wished to appear cultured, a goal that could be achieved by the
collection of art objects and the decoration of his house. Before proceeding to the
examination of individual monuments in later chapters, Chapter 2, in accordance
with recent advances in art historical analysis, attempts to provide an idea of the
social and cultural setting within which Roman concepts of continuous narrative
originated and developed. The pervasive influence of Greece on all forms of Roman
cultural production is discussed, together with the curious ambivalence noted in
22
Roman attitudes towards Greek culture and luxury.
31
The chapter concludes with an
evaluation of how this ambivalent attitude may have affected the style and content of
Roman continuous narrative.
Evaluation of visual narrative by critics and art historians was originally
predicated on identification of the story from action and iconography, followed by
stylistic analysis to determine dating. The idea of viewing art “in context” gained
ground towards the mid 20
th
century and resulted in a concentration on the intent of
the artist and his message in the context of the culture in which the art was produced.
By the 1970’s the application of linguistic theories included the role of the
contemporary viewer in assigning meaning to artistic output. Cultural production as
a whole is seen as a reflection of the political, religious and social institutions of a
society, resulting in a similarity of ideas in different modes of expression. If the
concept is taken a step further, the cultural output of a particular era becomes
monolithic, with free exchange between literature, rhetoric, history, philosophy and
art. One purpose of my study is to consider the proposition that developments in the
field of narrative art are related to Roman cultural and social requirements, forming
part of a continuum of change that affected all aspects of cultural production.
Chapter 3 contains a brief review of Roman developments in rhetoric, literature,
drama, historiography and philosophy and discusses how these developments may
have affected narrative art, with a view to discovering common influences and
modes of expression.
23
Chapters 4, 5 and 6, comprising Part II of the study, discuss and evaluate
individual continuous narratives selected from over 500 years of Roman art. I have
considered Roman monuments displaying continuous narration in chronological
order, so as to retain an appreciation of the evolutionary and developmental aspect of
Roman innovations and deployment of the style. Chapter 4 covers the Republican
period and the early Empire. Chapter 5 considers monuments of the later 1
st
century
A.D. and Chapter 6 deals mainly with developments in the 2
nd
century A.D., with
some references to the 3
rd
century.
The monuments have been subdivided into three major categories. The first
category consists of monuments celebrating recent military victories or recording the
fulfillment of civic duties. The second category comprises narratives detailing the
early history of Rome, and the third category contains narratives drawn from Greek
mythology. The stories of Greek myth were utilized by the Romans either as a means
of expressing devotion to traditional virtue by allegorical means or were deployed in
the decoration of the Roman house. In the private sector they served the purpose of
impressing clients, patrons, friends and honored guests with the culture, erudition,
wealth and influence of the sponsor.
The final chapter, Chapter 7, summarizes the salient findings resulting from the
study of the continuous narrative format and the conclusions reached on the
utilization and function of this genre in Roman art and society.
24
Notes: Introduction
1. Taplin (2000) 23. Both Greek and Roman cultures retained a significant oral
element, and literary works continued to be read aloud in public or private
performances, a practice continuing well into Imperial times, as is evident from
the letters of the Younger Pliny.
2. Lattimore (1951) 13.
3. Weitzmann (1970) 3-11; Birt (1907) 269.
4. Beacham (1991) 64-74.
5. For example, Stansbury O’Donnell (1999) 35-44, proposes a limited appearance
of narrative in Attic Geometric funerary ware, designed as a commemoration or
heroization of the deceased.
6. Plutarch, writing about the art of listening to lectures, says that the audience is a
participant in the discourse and a collaborator with the speaker.
7. Weitzmann (1970) 17-8. Weitzmann acknowledges that in both literature and
narrative art the reader or beholder must imagine the changes that take place
between consecutive scenes.
8. Bal and Bryson (1991) 174-208. The application of semiotics to literary criticism
and art history emphasizes that the meaning of a work of art is never fixed but
depends on the context of the viewer. This proviso sounds a cautionary note for
attempts to “view the art in context,” since the context of a contemporary audience
can never be completely reconstituted at a later date.
9. AJA 61 (1957) 44.
10. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 31-4. Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell is a persuasive
advocate for the inclusion of generic scenes in narrative art. He argues that there
is little difference in specificity between generic battles on Geometric vases and
the equally generic battles on Archaic vases that are accepted as narrative art,
except that, in the latter case, names have been appended to some of the
participants. He suggests that if specificity and discreteness are to be defining
characteristics for narrative, then honorific portraits should be included, since we
know who the figure is, and he or she is engaged in some action, even if it is only
sitting or standing.
11. Prince (1982) 145.
25
12. Meyboom (1978) 56, 67.
13. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 34-5.
14. Robert (1881) 3-51.
15. Wickhoff (1895) 9; Blanckenhagen (1957) 78-83; Weitzmann (1970) 12-36.
Three authors have included examples from Hellenistic or Roman narrative art in
their systems of classification. Wickhoff concentrated entirely on Roman art and
Blanckenhagen on Hellenistic and Roman art. Only Weitzmann, to my
knowledge, included examples ranging from the Greek Geometric to the Roman
Imperial period.
16. Wickhoff (1895) 9.
17. Ibid. 59.
18. Weitzmann (1970) 12-35.
19. Meyboom (1978) 55-82.
20. Snodgrass (1982) 3.
21. Hurwitt (1985) 173.
22. Harrison (1983) 237-8.
23. Harrison (1972) 390-402. The probable sequence of actions in the painting has
been reconstructed by Evelyn Harrison, commencing with the Greek muster and
attack on the far left, progressing through a section in the middle, in which the
battle is equal and the outcome undecided, and concluding with the retreat of the
Persians through the marshes to their ships.
24. Shapiro (1991) 324.
25. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 137-9.
26. Blanckenhagen (1957) 78-83.
27. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 7.
28. Ling (1991) 142.
26
29. Wünsche (1972) 80-82. Wünsche has compared Roman adaptations of Greek art
to the contemporary adaptation of Greek literature by the Romans, indicating that
the Romans themselves firmly believed that these adaptations represented an
advance on Greek models that was in accordance with Roman culture and ideals.
30. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81-2; Schefold (1960) 87; Dawson (1965) 198; Ling
(1991) 11. Ling, Blanckenhagen and Dawson all concur on the greater popularity
and development of continuous narrative in Roman art when compared to Greek
art, and attribute the development to a Roman predilection for telling more
complete stories. Schefold considers continuous narrative to be alien to Greek
thought because of its disregard for the unity of time and space. All authors agree
that the single panel continuous narrative, in which two or more episodes are
shown against a single background, is a Roman invention.
31. Gruen (1992) 223-71.
27
PART I: Introduction
Part I of this study represents an attempt to set the development of Roman
continuous narrative in the context of the Mediterranean past, the contemporary
Hellenistic world and the specific social and cultural environment of the Roman
state.
The first chapter investigates the antecedents of Roman continuous narrative in
the art of predecessors in the lands surrounding the Mediterranean and in the early
art of Rome itself. This endeavor is based on the concept that art represents a dialog
between past and present, images, motifs and compositions being adopted, adapted,
modified or reworked, so that there is little that is completely new in the artistic
product of a culture. The influence of the Greeks on determining the form and
content of Roman art is well established, and Greek art itself was influenced, via
Cyprus and Crete, by the art of Egypt and the Near East.
1
Ultimately this influence
spread to Rome by way of Etruria and Magna Graecia.
2
In the later Republican and
Imperial periods, when the Mediterranean had become mare nostrum, and Rome had
extended her empire to include much of the known world, a direct influence on
Roman art by the artistic products of its eastern possessions may be postulated.
It must be recognized, however, that the proposal of specific earlier influences
on Roman continuous narration should be approached with caution. The continuous
narrative style has been discovered in the art of places as diverse and different as
ancient Egypt and Buddhist India.
3
Christopher Dawson is of the opinion that the
employment of continuous narrative could easily have arisen independently in
28
several locations without any necessity for seeking a derivation from earlier
examples, and it is impossible to determine the exact degree of influence exerted by
the art of various Mediterranean cultures on Roman development of the style.
4
Despite these reservations, studying the parameters and characteristics of continuous
narrative in the works of predecessors provides a useful background for
consideration of the style in Roman art. Visual narratives are utilized to construct
both individual and national identities in accordance with the moral, social and
cultural imperatives of a society, and narrative devices, including continuous
narration, are an integral element in this construction. Tracing the deployment of
these devices in early Western art prior to the Roman era supplies a context for
examination of their use by the Romans, and correlations made between style and
culture may be applied to the study of continuous narrative in Roman art.
The second chapter addresses the social context of Roman continuous narrative,
in order to determine why the Romans utilized continuous narrative for particular
themes and why they adopted certain stylistic criteria in preference to others, with
the ultimate goal of obtaining an insight into how continuous narration contributed to
both the intended message of Roman narrative art and to audience reception.
Modern theories of message transmission and reception dictate that art should be
examined in the context of the society in which it was produced. The concept of art
as an expression of environment and ideology was first proposed in the 18th century,
when Johann Winckelmann, the so-called Father of Art History, published his
revolutionary history of ancient art. In this work he explained the perceived
29
excellence of antique Greek sculpture in terms of the beneficent climate of Greece
and the political freedoms enjoyed by the citizens of Athens.
5
Winckelmann’s ideas
were subsequently expanded, and, particularly within the last century, scholarship
has explored the powerful connection between society and art, emphasizing the
cultural context within which artistic production and reception occur. Art is
considered as both a reflection of social customs and concerns and as a formative
influence on beliefs and practices. Works of art are conditioned by social forces to
take the form they do and, in turn, strengthen or alter ideologies.
The contextual consideration of art has been reinforced by the extension of
linguistic practices for the study of meaning in language and literature to the
discipline of art history. Semiotics challenges a positivist view of knowledge,
considering interpretation of art to be indeterminate, depending on the background
and perception of the viewer.
6
This perception is governed by discursive practices,
institutional organization and systems of value. Even though semiotics has taught us
that modern interpretations of ancient art are unlikely to coincide with those of
contemporary viewers, Mary Beard has maintained the equal implausibility of there
being no overlap whatsoever.
7
Interpreting art from other times and places is,
therefore, worth doing, a partial or flawed understanding being better than no
understanding at all. In order to arrive at even an approximation of the contemporary
meaning ascribed to works of art by the Romans, it is necessary to examine the
social framework within which such meaning was constituted.
8
Chapter 2 provides a
brief overview of Roman society, ethics, ideals and ambitions, all of which
30
contributed to the Roman self image reflected and reinforced in Roman art. Certain
facets of Roman character and social structure are seen as having greater relevance
for the construction of visual narratives and the focus is on those aspects of society
and culture that are readily adaptable to visual realization.
The final chapter in this section attempts to correlate developments in narrative
art with parallel advances in other forms of cultural production. In accordance with
the views of Levy Strauss, Michel Foucault, Roland Barthes and other scholars
concerned with literary construction and reception, structural analysis defines
cultural production as a reflection of the politically and socially constituted
institutions of a society. The various forms of intellectual and aesthetic expression
produced by the Romans, including literature, art, rhetoric and philosophy, were all
subject to the same societal influences and molded by the same attitudes towards
Greek culture. As a result, concepts and methodologies that were formulated for one
mode of expression are reflected in the construction of other disciplines. For
example, the stories of Greek mythology utilized in Roman art were derived from
and influenced by written or oral literary sources, and visual accounts of actual
events were affected by Roman ideas on how to write history. Less obvious instances
of cross reaction between genres are the pervasive effects of rhetoric on literary and
artistic style and the influence of Stoic philosophy on content and interpretation of
both art and literature. The Romans themselves were well aware of this interchange
between disciplines and spoke of rhetorical history, philosophic rhetoric and
dramatic or rhetorical poetry.
9
They did not include art in this cross-fertilization of
31
ideas and styles between various forms of expression, undoubtedly because the
Romans were not inclined towards art criticism. By the time of the late Republic
neither painting nor sculpture were considered a suitable occupation for a gentleman
(Plin. HN 35.7.20), and, despite avid art collecting, we have little information
regarding Roman views on how art functioned in society.
The purpose of this final chapter in the section is to investigate the effect of other
genres on the formulation of Roman narrative art in general and the continuous
narrative format in particular, with a view to situating this method of narration in the
context of Roman cultural production and obtaining an insight into the factors that
governed choice of style and content.
32
Notes: PART I: Introduction
1. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 5-8. Phoenician silver bowls, for example, have been
discovered at Praeneste
2. Toynbee (1971) xvii.
3. Kantor (1957) 49; Ippel (1929) 19.
4. Dawson (1965) 193.
5. Winckelmann (1764).
6. Iser (1971) 60-80.
7. Derrida (1979) 81; Beard (2000) 269. Jacques Derrida, the doyen of
deconstructive criticism, says “No meaning can be determined out of context, but
no context permits saturation” These two principles of semiotics indicate the
impossibility of assigning meaning to a work of art or literature other than in the
context of its production, while iterating the polysemy of meaning within such a
context.
8. Leach (2004) 18-53.
9. Atherton (1988); Cape (1997) 212; Dominik (1997) 54; Fantham (1997) 114.
33
Chapter 1: The Antecedents of Roman Continuous Narrative.
Continuous Narration in Art of the Ancient Mediterranean.
Visual narrative, the attempt to convey to a viewer the events of a specific story
featuring a named protagonist, had its origin in Western art about 3000 B.C. The
simplest form of narrative was monoscenic, but, from its earliest beginnings in the
West, artists endeavored to include more than a single event in visual storytelling.
Telling multiscenic stories raised certain concerns, among the first of which was the
maximization of space, leading to the development of innovations designed to
increase the number of scenes that could be included in a given area. The second
problem concerned how best to indicate to the viewer that successive events were
linked as part of a single story. The nature of seeing limits a viewer to the
identification of a single scene at a time, even when separate incidents are located
close together within the visual field, so that comprehension of the connections
between multiple scenes is an important aspect of pictorial narrative.
The succeeding sections are intended to trace solutions to the telling of
multiscenic stories that were arrived at by the cultures of the ancient Mediterranean
prior to Roman dominance in the 1st century B.C., with an emphasis on the evolution
of the continuous narrative style.
Egyptian Narrative Art
Although visual narrative was relatively rare in ancient Egypt and the continuous
narrative style made a late appearance in Egyptian art, the Egyptians may be
considered to have laid the foundations of narration in Western art. They were the
34
first to show an interest in temporal sequence and the logical ordering of figures in
space. They also devoted attention to the maximization of space, introducing
registration and other methods of scene division. In
addition, the Egyptians of the early Dynastic period
produced the first representation of human activities that
can be definitively classified as a visual narrative.
Representations of the Predynastic period, whether on
pottery, walls, knife handles or slate palettes, show no
particular or consistent ordering of figures or figural
groups that can be related to the sequence of events in a
story. Figures are either randomly scattered or arranged
in horizontal or vertical rows, as on the Hunter Palette
(Fig. 3). On the later Narmer Palette horizontal
registration makes its appearance,
providing ground lines and divisions
for distinct events (Fig. 4). The
palette also represents the earliest
extant narration of a specific story
featuring a named individual, the
successful war of King Narmer
against his enemies from”papyrus-
land”.
1
Figure 3. The Hunter
Palette. British
Museum. After Davies
(1996) Fig. 7.2.
Figure 4. The Narmer Palette. Cairo Museum.
After Davies (1996) Fig. 7.4.
35
The predictability and stability of Egyptian society until the later years of the
New Kingdom appear to correlate with a loss of interest in true narrative. The vast
majority of standardized, generic scenes on the walls of tombs, palaces and temples
show the king or his subjects engaged in the day-to-day, repetitive activities suitable
to their status, and celebration of specific events is rare. The king takes part in
religious processions and festivals, grants audiences and receives tribute. The
decorated tombs of the elite display the deceased supervising agriculture, hunting
and fishing, or surrounded by his family. It was only in the 18th dynasty of the New
Kingdom, about 1700 B.C., that narrative began to assume a more individualized
character. These stories dealt mainly with the activities of human individuals, and at
no time in their history did the Egyptians show a proclivity for retailing the stories of
the gods in visual form, even though their religion possessed a fully developed
mythology.
2
Royal narratives continued to feature the official activities of the
monarch but, for the first time since the early Dynastic period, certain of these
activities concerned unique events, such as the Naval Expedition sent by Queen
Hatsepsut to Punt. Private tombs replaced some of the generic scenes of daily life
with celebrations of the professional or official activities of the tomb occupant. A
new method of registration also made its appearance at this time. A single, large
scene occupied the entire height of the picture at the left, the remainder of the space
containing smaller scenes arranged in horizontal registers. An alternative format was
to place two large scenes at the left and right with the central space between them
divided into registers. A tomb painting representing an incident in the professional
36
life of the physician, Nebamun,
is arranged in this fashion (Fig.
5). The physician is shown
seated at the left, receiving a
bouquet of flowers. The
remaining space is registered
and devoted to the voyage and
arrival of a high-ranking foreigner, who has come from Syria to consult the doctor.
Specific narrative reached its maximum development in the Amarna period of the
18th dynasty. This twenty-two year period included the reigns of Akhenaten and
Tutankhamen and was notable for a religious revolution that introduced a form of
monotheism, focused on the sun disc, the Aten. In art, monotheism found expression
in greater naturalism and individualism, and the period was also marked by the first
appearance of continuous narrative.
3
The expression of individualism in continuous
narratives of the period possessed a characteristic in common with development of
biographical narration in Republican Rome, utilizing continuous narration
principally to celebrate the personal achievements of individuals. The most common
representations in the private tombs of Amarna featured either promotion to a higher
position in the civic administration or bestowal of a reward for faithful service. In the
tomb of Tutu, the story of his promotion is anchored at each end by the
representation of a building, the palace of Akhenaten on the right and a temple on the
left (Fig. 6). The space between is registered, consisting of a lower, principal
Figure 5. Tomb of Nabamun. Theban Tomb 17.
After Gaballa (1976) Fig. 5b.
37
register, continuous with the large
panels on either side, and two
subsidiary registers above.
Akhenaten and the queen are seen
leaning from a window of the
palace. Tutu stands below in the
courtyard, raising his hands in
gratitude for the promotion he has received. He then departs through the gate of the
palace and is greeted and congratulated by family and friends. In the lower central
register he enters his chariot and drives towards the temple, presumably to offer
thanks. The two upper registers contain soldiers and townspeople respectively, who
do not participate in the narrative. This particular format for a promotion rapidly
became standardized, the king at a window or balcony in the palace, the recipient
below, followed by the chariot drive to house or temple. Some narratives of
achievement, however, were
unique and applicable only to a
specific individual. In the tomb
of Mahu, who was the chief of
police under Akhenaten, Mahu
is shown engaged in his official
duties (Fig. 7). The painting has
three registers, only the lowermost featuring continuous narrative. In the upper
Figure 7. Tomb of Mahu. Amarna. After Gaballa (1976)
Fig. 5a.
Figure 6. Tomb of Tutu. Amarna. After Davis
(1908) Pls. xxix, xx
38
register Mahu inspects stores and receives the dues of the peasants. In the second
register Mahu stands before his house, warming himself at a brazier. A messenger
brings important news and Mahu’s chariot is summoned. The right-hand portion of
the register is divided into two subregisters, in which six policemen rush to attend
Mahu. In the bottom register Mahu is shown twice, driving in his chariot and telling
his news to the vizier, who stands before the porch of his house.
The succeeding 19th dynasty was a period of uncertainty, during which Egypt
and her possessions were threatened by foreign invaders. It is understandable that in
royal narratives the peaceful scenes of official activities gave place to representations
of war and battle. It was in these visual descriptions of war that the frieze type of
continuous narrative was initiated, a narrative device also employed by the Assyrians
and Romans for telling the stories of battles. The most famous of these continuous
battle narratives are the Qadesh reliefs of Ramses II, dating from the 14th century
B.C. The reliefs portray a battle against Hittite forces at the Syrian town of Qadesh.
Both an epic poem and an official account of the battle have survived and concur in
declaring that the courage of the king saved the army from certain defeat.
4
Almost
unaided, he fought his way clear of a Hittite ambush. This achievement is celebrated
in narrative reliefs on the walls of four different temples, and the accounts agree in
all significant details. It is evident that the reliefs were designed to provide the
viewer with as much information as possible. They did not concentrate solely on the
climactic moment of the king’s courageous escape but included the topography of
the battlefield and the entire sequence of events, from the preliminaries to the final
39
victory and its aftermath. Also introduced was the use of bird’s- eye view for
enclosures, so that events inside a walled camp or city were available to the viewer.
At Abu Simbel, the relief of the battle is registered, the bottom register detailing
events before the battle and the upper register the battle itself (Fig. 8). In the lower
register the Egyptian camp is on the left, shown in planimetric view so that events
inside are visible. The tents and the pavilion of the king are in the lower section, and
in the upper section Hittite soldiers have broken into the camp. On the right the king
is seated in council, interviewing two captured Hittite spies. The conflation of two
separate events without repetition of characters results in a synoptic narrative in the
lower register. The upper and lower sections are separated by a frieze of chariots.
The upper register is a continuous narrative, the king appearing twice in undivided
scenes. At the center of the upper section the town of Qadesh is seen in planimetric
view, surrounded by canals, and the river Orontes bisects the picture. At the left, the
king in his chariot looses his bow at his enemies, driving them back towards the
town. He is shown as larger than either his foes or his supporters. The battle rages
Figure 8. Battle of Qadish. Abu Simbel Temple. After Kantor (1957) Pl.15.
40
beyond the town, and at the right the outcome is evident, since the king in his chariot
is reviewing captured prisoners. In addition to the king, his vizier and his adjutant
appear twice, carrying messages between the king and the army.
The Qadesh reliefs firmly established the concept of employing continuous
narration to furnish extensive details of a battle or war, a concept subsequently
employed by both the Assyrians and the Romans. The Egyptians themselves did not
develop it further. On restoration of stability in the 11th century B.C., royal reliefs
reverted to the standardized and repetitive themes of official rituals.
Babylonian and Sumerian Narrative Art
The Sumerian, Babylonian and Akkadian peoples who inhabited the area
between the Tigris and the Euphrates produced narrative art from about 3000 B.C. to
1200 B.C. A lack of native stone precluded the production of large scale relief
sculptures, and these peoples seem not to have favored narrative mural paintings.
5
However, registration made an early appearance, permitting the construction of quite
extensive narratives, despite the restricted surface area of the steles, vases and boxes
on which they were situated.
A new subject, the stories of the gods, was introduced into narrative art by the
Babylonians. These stories were mostly confined to monoscenic representations,
more extensive narratives being reserved for the activities of the ruler. A possible
reason for the monoscenic nature of mythic stories is that these myths were well
known to the general populace, and a single, recognizable scene would suffice to
enable viewer reconstitution of the entire story. Registration was employed solely for
41
accounts of the specific, historical undertakings of the king, including battles,
journeys and the building of temples, in order to ensure a more complete record of
his deeds. The well known Stele of the Vultures, now in the Louvre, was erected by
Eannatum, ruler of Lagash, in about 2500 B.C.. It details the entire course of a battle
in the four registers on one side, from the initial march of the army under the
leadership of the king to the mopping-up operations at the conclusion.
6
The stele is
not a continuous narrative, but the continuous style was introduced at the same early
date, serving an identical purpose to registration, the telling of more complete stories
in a strictly limited space.
The best known example of Babylonian continuous narration is the so-called
Standard of Ur, now in the British Museum, a rectangular wooden box with
registered scenes of a battle on one side and the subsequent triumphal feast on the
other, executed in a mosaic of shell and stone (Fig. 9). The date of the box is thought
to be about 2500 B.C. The two lowest registers of the war panel demonstrate a type
of continuous narrative peculiar to early Near Eastern art, in which a single activity
of an individual or group is
shown in a series of
progressively later actions, in the
manner of modern cartoon cells.
The bottom register shows four
repetitions of a chariot, drawn
by four onagers and containing a soldier and a charioteer. From the position of the
Figure 9. Standard of Ur. British Museum. After
www.wikimedia.org.
42
onagers’ legs, it is apparent that the chariot is speeding up from left to right. In the
first representation the soldier holds no weapon. In the second he has drawn a spear,
in the third he holds a battle axe, and in the fourth he once again flourishes a spear. A
similar succession is shown in the second register. In front of a file of soldiers on the
left, a prisoner lies prostrate at the feet of two guards. In subsequent scenes the
prisoner is prodded by one of the guards, and finally he is hauled erect.
7
A similar type of narrative appeared briefly in Assyria after the fall of the Hittite
empire, at the end of the 12th century B.C., but it is unknown in Greek and Roman
art. However, Babylonian visual narrative has aspects in common with the art of
these later cultures. The Babylonians were the first people to introduce mythological
themes into narrative art, and these were the themes most characteristic of Greek
visual narrative. Devices permitting extensive storytelling were limited to historic
events featuring royal protagonists, a situation similar to the restrictions imposed on
public narratives in Imperial Rome.
Assyrian Narrative Art
In the ancient Near East the most extensive use of conflated narrative is to be
found in the public art of the Assyrians. Contrary to the situation in Babylon, the
availability of stone fostered the production of large scale sculptures, and Assyria
made good use of this capability. Certain parallels may be drawn between the
purpose and content of public relief sculptures in the Assyrian kingdoms and
Imperial Rome. Both were militant nations, with national pride and power centered
on military success. The Assyrian kings decorated their palaces with relief sculptures
43
detailing their campaigns and conquests, decorations that were intended to strike
foreign visitors with awe and fear and impress Assyrian rivals with the power and
glory of the king.
8
These representations occupied entire rooms within the palace
complex, Assyrian developments of the battle narrative following the path mapped
out by the Rameside pharaohs of Egypt. From the earliest examples in the 9th
century to the latest ones in the 7th century, visual accounts of war employed a
conflated format, without divisions between successive incidents. However, the
Assyrians were even more concerned with the provision of convincing details,
including extensive topographic and landscape elements and realistic, precise visual
descriptions of armor and weaponry.
The first large compositions of battle or hunting scenes are those of Ashurnasirpal
II. The throne room of his palace in Kalakh/Nimrud contained scenes of hunting and
sacrifice and, on one wall, details of a battle arranged in three registers, each register
containing three incidents.
9
This battle relief is an example of true continuous
narrative, the king appearing more than once in the continuous scenes of each
register. In the lowest register, for example, he is shown crossing a river with his
army, passing a town and receiving captives.
In the reign of Ashurnasirpal’s son, Shalmaneser III, the Assyrians appear to have
abandoned continuous narrative in favor of synoptic narrative. Shalmaneser’s
famous bronze gates, erected at Balawat, summarized his campaigns in a series of
bands, each containing two horizontal registers. In some bands both registers refer to
the same campaign, whereas in others each register concerns a separate campaign. In
44
either case, the king appears only once per register, even though a single register
may contain several undivided scenes. The synoptic format is also adopted in the
most famous and highly developed example of Assyrian battle narrative, an account
of the conquest of the Judean town of Lachish by Sennacherib at the close of the 8th
century. The relief occupied the four walls of a room in the palace at Nineveh. It was
not registered but consisted of a continuous landscape of wooded mountains, with
groups of soldiers, prisoners and chariots arranged on undulating groundlines below
the mountain peaks, the groundlines representing higher or lower elevations. The
first preserved section shows three files of Assyrian soldiers on three separate
groundlines (Fig. 10), followed by a depiction of the walled city with siege ramps in
place (Fig.11). Beyond the city prisoners are herded towards the king, who sits
enthroned on a hillock before his tent (Fig. 12). On the far right, the walled Assyrian
camp is shown from above, the walls flattened so that siege engines and tents within
can be seen by the viewer from a horizontal viewpoint (Fig. 13).
The frieze has the evident intention of providing a recognizable and accurate
portrayal of the conditions of the siege.
10
It exemplifies a very early example of a
continuous landscape background and sets the action in a specific topography. Even
the species of trees to be found in the locale of the battle are carefully delineated. In
addition, great attention is paid to the costumes, arms, chariotry and weaponry of the
Assyrians and their enemies. The treatment of the Assyrian camp indicates that the
45
Figure 10. The Siege of Lachish. Southwest Palace, Nineveh., Slabs 11-12
After Russell (1993) Fig. 14.
Figure 11. The Siege of Lachish. Southwest
Palace, Nineveh. After Russell (1993) Fig. 14.
Figure 12. The Siege of Lachish.
Southwest Palace, Nineveh. After
Russell (993) Fig. 16.
Figure 13. Siege of Lachish. Southwest Palace, Nineveh. After Russell (1993) Fig. 17.
46
artists wished to provide complete details of all aspects of the campaign, presumably
with the intention of convincing the viewer of the verisimilitude and veracity of the
account and thus establishing the power and supremacy of the king. The same care
was expended on military details in later Roman accounts of battle.
A return to an extensive continuous narrative format is found in the hunting relief
of the last great Assyrian king, Ashurbanipal, in the 7th century B.C. This relief is
distributed in two passageways and the entrance hall of the palace. Preparations for
the hunt occupy the passages and the hunt proper is shown in three registers in the
hall itself. The central register features continuous scenes from a royal lion hunt. At
the left, the king spears a lion from horseback. He then dismounts and inspects his
prey. On the right he seizes a lion by the tail and subsequently kills it with a spear.
Finally, the king watches servants carry off the spoils of the hunt.
11
The use of multiple continuous scenes in this relief may have been influenced by
narratives on Phoenician bowls of the same
period, merchandise that that was widely
distributed by Phoenician trade around the
Mediterranean.
12
A bowl discovered at
Praeneste in Italy provides an example of
extensive scenes combined in a continuous
narrative frieze (Fig. 14). A prince rides out in
his chariot, shoots and then flays a stag. He
makes an offering to a winged goddess and is
Figure 14. Phoenician Bowl.
Palestrina Archaeological Museum.
After Güterbock (1957) Pl. 26.
47
attacked by an ape. He is rescued by the goddess, who raises him and his chariot into
the air. Returned to earth, he kills the ape and returns to the city. The format of
undivided scenes from a single story may have been suggested to the Assyrian artists
by study of Phoenician bowls, some of which also featured battle narratives.
However, the introduction of legendary content is a new departure and is not
reflected in the continuous narratives of Egypt, Babylon or Assyria. In these cultures
continuous narration was restricted to retailing recent events and was intended to
enhance the status of an individual.
Narrative Art of the Bronze Age Aegean
The art of Crete in the Minoan period, from 2800 to 1000 B.C., shows little
interest in narrative. Humans appear in vase paintings and frescoes from about 2000
B.C. The highest development of Cretan civilization occurred in the Middle Minoan
period, from 1700 to 1550 B.C., when the palace complex at Knossos was built. As
in Egypt, the frescoes of Knossos concentrate on the daily activities of the nobility
and there is no hint of any form of conflated narrative. However, two remarkable
examples of synoptic narrative were discovered on the island of Thera, the modern
Santorini, only 63 miles from Crete, whose late Cycladic civilization was
contemporaneous with the Middle Minoan culture. Thera has been called the
Pompeii of the Aegean for two reasons. As in Pompeii 1500 years later, Thera was
buried in a volcanic eruption that occurred about 1500 B.C. As in Pompeii, the walls
of private houses in Thera were decorated with extensive frescoes, although in
Mycenae, Greece and Crete such frescoes appear to have been limited to public
48
buildings and the palaces of kings. The paintings of Thera are varied, including
landscapes, figure studies, animal and floral studies. Two paintings with narrative
content were found in the same room of a building named the “West House” Each
frieze occupied the upper region of one complete wall. The first of these friezes, on
the north wall, has been named “The Sea Battle” (Fig. 15). It consists of three scenes
that are thought to represent elements of a single story, placed one above the other in
a continuous landscape without division. There is no indication that any figure
appears more than once. However, if the painting does indeed tell a coherent story,
this story has the same spatial disposition of scenes as the panel type of continuous
narrative. The setting of the painting is a village, situated on a rocky shore. In the
lowest scene a sea battle takes place off the shore, featuring dead warriors floating in
the water and three ships engaged in conflict. In the central scene a file of helmeted
warriors, armed with swords, spears and cowhide shields, walks away from a three-
doored building on the left. The upper section is a scene of peaceful village life,
Figure 15. Sea Battle. Room 5 The West House, Thera. Athens National Archaeological
Museum. After Doumas (1980) Fig. 34.
49
including the herding of cattle, women carrying water jars and men gossiping.
Various explanations have been proposed for the narrative content of the painting,
ranging from an invasion of Thera by Mycenaens to celebration of a sea festival
rather than a battle.
13
However, all these interpretations have in common the idea that
the scenes have a narrative connection as part of a larger story, the assumption being
based on the lack of division between the three distinct activities in the painting.
The second narrative event has been named the
“Flotilla” (Fig. 16) It features the voyage of eight
ships from one harbor to another. As the last ship
leaves the first harbor the leading ship approaches
the second harbor. The most remarkable aspect of
this painting is the development of specific
landscape and setting, evidently intended to
provide a recognizable point of departure and
arrival for the voyage. The harbor town from
which the ships depart lies at the bottom of a
wooded mountain, from which a stream flows to
encircle the town. On the mountain tops a herd of deer flees from a lion. The town
has multi-storied houses with flat roofs, and the population is gathered, either on the
roof tops or at the quay, to bid farewell to the departing fleet. The second harbor also
has multi-storied houses. A boat rows out to greet the fleet, and the populace is again
ranged on house- tops or on the quay. It is evident that the voyage represents a
Figure 16. Flotilla, Room 5, the
West House, Thera. Athens
National Archaeological Museum.
After Doumas (1980) Fig. 36.
50
peaceful visit. The ships are festively decorated, joyful dolphins leap among them
and the attitude of the reception committee is completely unwarlike. It is possible
that the painting represents a conflation of time and space, since Christos Doumas
has noted that the dress of the inhabitants and the architecture of the second town
show Minoan characteristics, and the hills behind this town are quite unlike those of
the first town, being bare and barren rather than watered and luxuriant.
14
It is
unlikely that the journey was across a very narrow strait, as the painting suggests,
representing rather an official visit from one island to another situated some distance
away. If this is indeed the case, the painting represents a conflation of both time and
space and possibly features an important incident in the life of the owner of the West
House.
The paintings of Thera offer confirmation for the concept that similar narrative
devices may be arrived at independently by unrelated cultures. The paintings of
Thera appear to be isolated incidences of narrative allied with landscape
development, since no trace of comparable frescoes has been found in Crete,
Mycaenae or Greece. However, the use of identifying landscape and architecture and
the solutions adopted for the treatment of space have distinct coincidences with those
employed in Roman historical narratives and continuous landscape paintings,
narratives that were developed more than a millennium after Thera was buried
beneath volcanic ash.
51
Narrative Art in Archaic and Classical Greece.
The Greeks first produced specific narratives in the 7th century B.C. and were
subsequently responsible for inventing a number of new ways in which multiple
events in a visual story could be arranged in space. Simultaneous, unified,
progressive, panoramic and serial narratives are documented for the first time in
Greek art, and the Greeks also expanded the cyclic category of narrative by
introducing a new method for separating distinct events. Instead of relying wholly on
registration, the Greeks placed sequential scenes on separate panels, whose linkage
as part of a single story was indicated by situating them on the surface of the same
building or vessel. In the category of continuous narrative, however, no significant
advances appeared in Greek art before the Hellenistic period, except on the fringes of
the Greek world.
The narrative art of mainland Greece differed from the art of predecessors around
the Mediterranean in its choice of subject matter, since it focused almost exclusively
on mythology and hero legends from the distant past, and the Greeks before the
Hellenistic age exhibited a bias against recording concrete, recent historical events.
David Castriota has attributed Greek avoidance of portraying living individuals and
their deeds to Greek concepts of sophrosyne.
15
The eulogistic commemorations
found in Egyptian and Assyrian art were considered hubristic, and immortalization in
paint or stone was reserved for gods and heroes.
16
George Hanfmann is of the
opinion that the Greeks were more concerned with generalized human experience
52
than with specific time and space and preferred to project events into the remote and
timeless sphere of myth.
17
Despite the invention of innovative approaches to the arrangement of events in
space, most Greek visual narratives were strictly monoscenic. Admittedly, the richest
source for Greek narrative art is the vase record, and the small surface of a vase does
not lend itself to extensive narration. However, the larger vases were frequently
registered, so as to accommodate more than one scene on a side, but even in these
cases the usual practice, as on the Francois vase, was to place single episodes from
unrelated stories in each register. The smaller vases were naturally divided into two
pictorial spaces by the handles, and most vases contain two distinct scenes, offering
an opportunity for a cyclic narrative. The number of vases on which the painter made
use of this opportunity is small, the most frequently quoted example being the name
vase of the Briseis painter, which shows, on one side, Briseis being conducted from
the tent of Achilles and on the other, her presentation to Agamemnon (Figs. 17a,b).
The preference for monoscenic narratives on Greek vases was noted by Carl Robert,
Figures 17a,b. Attic Red-figure Kylix by the Briseis Painter. British Museum. After
Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) Figs. 3, 4.
53
who suggested that the abandonment of the simultaneous method in the Classical
Period could be linked to the rise of tragic drama, with its Aristotelian emphasis on
the unity of time and space.
18
According to some definitions of the style, Archaic and Classical vase art is not
completely devoid of continuous narrative. Cycles of the deeds of either Theseus or
Herakles afford examples of narratives in which the protagonist appears more than
once in conflated scenes. The Greeks appear to have regarded these cycles as part of
a continuous whole, and a number of late Archaic and early Classical vases show
more than one deed of either Theseus or Herakles in a continuous series, without any
particular attention to chronology. This arrangement can be seen on a red-figure
kylix from about 480 B.C., signed by Douris (Figs. 18a,b). One side shows the
conflated episodes of Theseus slaying the sow and battling Sinus, the other side
depicts the fights with Skiron and Kerkyon. The latter two scenes are partially
separated by a large rock, but the head of Skiron projects from the first into the
second scene. On the first side there is an even greater overlap of figures from one
Figures 18a,b. Attic Red-figure Kylix by the Douris Painter. British Museum. After
Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) Figs 66, 67.
54
scene to another, indicating the connection and unity of the two events to the viewer.
The Greeks seem to have considered the deeds of Theseus and Herakles to be
analogous, possibly because they were both, at least initially, mortal heroes who rid
humanity of dangerous and pernicious nuisances. Not only were they the sole
subjects for conflated narratives in vase paintings, but
they were also linked in narratives on the metopes of
the Athenian Treasury at Delphi, which featured the
deeds of Theseus on the south wall and those of
Herakles on the north. A black-figure dinos from the
late Archaic period even combines two deeds of
Herakles and one of Theseus, together with generic
scenes of warriors fighting, in a continuous circular
frieze (Fig.19).
Considerable confusion and disagreement has arisen in categorization and
naming of those instances in Archaic and Classical Greek art where several deeds of
Theseus or labors of Herakles are combined on the metopes of a single temple or on
the surface of a single vase. The confusion is, in part, the result of classification
systems such as those of Robert and Weitzmann, where all visual narratives
containing two or more complete episodes from a story are included in a single
category. Robert’s Chronicle Style and Weitzmann’s Cyclic Style embrace all
methods for arranging multiple incidents from a single story in space. A further
complication is injected because the classification systems that do recognize
Figure 19. Attic Black-figure
Dinos from the Circle of the
Antimenes Painter. Cleveland
Museum of Art. After
Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999)
Fig. 54.
55
continuous narrative as a category distinct from cyclic narrative, those of Wickhoff,
Blanckenhagen and Stansbury-O’Donnell, insist on a continuous landscape
background as a prerequisite for the style. Wickhoff and Blanckenhagen relied on
Roman examples of the style, and Stansbury-O’Donnell apparently followed their
lead. According to these latter definitions, the deeds and labors on the metopes of the
Athenian Treasury constitute a cyclic narrative, episodes from a story showing
repetition of a protagonist, in which the scenes are definitively separated in space by
the temple triglyphs. Since no specification of a background is made for cyclic
narrative, the lack of setting is not an impediment to classifying these metopes as an
example of the cyclic style. The red-figure kylix by Douris has minimal landscape
elements of a rock and two stick-like trees, elements that can hardly be considered to
constitute a continuous landscape background. Nevertheless, Mark Stansbury-
O’Donnell classifies the conflated scenes on each side as continuous narratives.
19
Peter von Blanckenhagen, however, did not acknowledge these vase paintings as
continuous narratives, since he states that the Telephos Frieze is the only example of
true continuous narrative in Greek art.
20
Rejection of the requirement for a
continuous landscape background in the definition adopted for this study permits
inclusion of each conflated set of events on the Douris vase in the category of
continuous narrative. Kurt Weitzmann, however, has raised a further objection to
regarding the cycles of either Theseus or Herakles on temples metopes or cups as
examples of his cyclic category.
21
He regards each deed or labor as a separate story
and compares the Douris cup with a Hellenistic bowl showing three conflated events
56
from a single deed of Herakles, the subduing of the Erymanthian boar. The first
episode shows Hephaestus forging a club, followed by Athena presenting the club to
Herakles. In the last episode Herakles is carrying the subdued boar. In modern
terminology, Weitzmann regards the connection between the deeds of Theseus or the
labors of Herakles as one of pendancy, rather than as episodes in a single story.
However, the further elaboration of a single episode from the story of Hercules’
labors does not, in my opinion, preclude the entire cycle from constituting a unified
story, the atonement of Hercules for the slaying of his children. Simiarly, the deeds
of Theseus form episodes in the unified narrative of his journey from Troezen to
Athens, and the conflation of two or more deeds on a single surface should not be
excluded from the category of continuous narrative.
Charles Dawson has suggested that in the 5th and early 4th centuries B.C.
sculptors and painters outside mainland Greece, especially those on the fringes of the
Greek world, were less constrained by the severe artistic principles governing the
unity of time and space that were followed by Attic artists.
22
This supposition may be
evoked to explain an unusual development in Greek narrative art that is dated to this
period. The development is related to the discovery of art objects showing
unmistakably Greek styles in mound graves near Nikopal, in the steppes of southern
Russia. The construction of the tombs and their contents indicate that they belonged
to the ancient Scythians, described by Herodotos (4.11) as cattle-rearing nomads and
mounted archers, friendly towards the Greeks. Items of Greek manufacture are
included in important graves of the later period, the late 5th and early 4th centuries
57
B.C. These items include vases and silver bowls, plus sword sheaths and bow cases
(gorytoi) plated with gold. Most of these gold sheaths and bow cases show scenes
from Scythian life, fighting and hunting with the bow, but some feature heroic Greek
subject matter, such as the battle between Greeks and Persians on a sword sheath
from Nikopal.
23
Of particular interest for the study of continuous narrative in Greek art are two
identical, gold-plated bow cases, with reliefs in Late Classical style, that were
discovered in separate graves in the Nikopal area (Fig. 20).
24
Both are in the
Hermitage Museum. The surface of
the gold plate is divided horizontally
into two registers. The figures in
Greek dress, arranged in a single
plane in each register, were
identified by Carl Robert as forming
scenes drawn from the life of
Achilles.
25
Although there is no
landscape background, Robert’s identification ensures that the figures in the upper
register constitute a continuous narrative, according to the definition adopted in this
study. Achilles appears three times in scenes divided only by back-to-back figures.
The gorytoi are unprecedented examples of Greek continuous narrative at an early
date, prior to the Hellenistic period. In the upper register, at the left, is a single scene
from the childhood of Achilles, in which he is taught the use of the bow.
26
In the
Figure 20. Gold Plate of a Gorytos from
Chertomlyk Tomb. After Richter (1932) Fig. 12.
The Hermitage, St. Petersburg.
58
second scene Achilles stands at the center of six seated figures, five women and a
man. He is not wearing female dress and may have a sword in his hand, but Robert
interpreted the scene as Achilles revealing himself among the daughters of
Lycomedes. Achilles looks to the right, towards a woman who is either dancing or
fleeing in fright. In the final scene of the register Lycomedes and Achilles sit facing
each other, Lycomedes holding a long scepter and Achilles a sword, with his shield
propped behind him. The three seated women at the left of the lower register are
assumed to belong to the upper register, as spectators of the final scene. This
arrangement of continuing a scene in a different register is unusual, although not
completely unknown in Roman continuous narratives.
27
At the right of the lower
register Achilles is seated between two bearded men, his shield beside him, while a
third man looks on from a seat at the left. At the far right a veiled woman is bowed
over the head of the child she carries. P.G.P. Meyboom has interpreted the final
scene as an interview between Achilles and Agamemnon, but it has also been
considered as an attempt by Odysseus and Diomedes to persuade Achilles to return
to Troy.
28
The latter explanation would account for the seated figure at the left, who
would represent Lycomedes, and for the sorrowful woman at the right, identified as
Deidamia with the infant Neoptolemus.
Despite an apparent lack of interest in developing continuous narration to its
fullest extent, the Classical and Archaic Greeks of the mainland devised various
intricate methods for linking events in a story. Other forms of conflated narrative
made their appearance in Greek art before the Hellenistic age, all elaborated with the
59
same narrative intent of conserving space and indicating linkage between events in a
story. Synoptic narrative was identical to the frieze type of continuous narrative,
except that the same protagonists did not appear twice in the conflated events of the
single story. As we have seen, synoptic narrative was a common solution to narrative
construction in Egyptian and Assyrian battle narratives and would reappear in
Roman narrative friezes. It is possible that the synoptic method of narration was
more acceptable to the Greeks than continuous narrative, because, although both
time and space were conflated, the viewer was not confronted with the apparently
anomalous appearance of the same person in two places at the same time.
The panoramic and progressive styles, also developed during the Archaic and
Classical periods, may be considered to have some relevance to the evolution of the
panel type of continuous narrative in Roman art. In all three of these styles several
events were conflated within a single, unified setting. In the examples of panoramic
narrative on Attic vases this setting is the city of Troy and is implicit rather than
explicit. Extant examples have only minimal landscape elements and the setting is
deduced from the nature of the conflated events, all derived from the Iliupersis, the
story of the fall of Troy. An Attic red-figure hydria by the Kleophadres Painter
(Fig.21), produced about 480 B.C.and now in the Naples National Museum, shows
five incidents from the Iliupersis, set in a circle and separated only by back-to-back
figures and a single tree. The incidents, from the left, are Aeneas escaping from
Troy; Ajax raping Cassandra; Neoptolemus slaying Priam; Andromache attacking a
Greek; and the rescue of Aithra. The events share the same general space and
60
moment of time, although they could be
regarded as occurring in a staggered fashion
rather than simultaneously, which would align
them more closely with the panel type of
continuous narrative.
29
The major difference
between the panoramic and continuous styles is
the elimination of repeated appearances of a
protagonist.
Progressive narrative also takes place within a unified pictorial field. Polygnotos’
lost painting of the Battle of Marathon in the Stoa Poikile has been tentatively
assigned to this category.
30
Pausanius’ description indicates that, within the setting of
the Marathonian plain and its bordering sea, various stages of the battle were
discernable by the viewer, involving both a time progression and a progression in
space from left to right of the picture frame. Such a progression will be discussed
further in Chapter 5, in the context of Roman battle narratives. The unified setting
for progressive events constitutes a similarity to the panel type continuous narratives,
although the illogical repetition of the same person appearing twice in the same
setting was apparently avoided in the Marathon painting.
The active potteries of Magna Graecia in South Italy provided the last examples
of Greek conflated narrative before the dawn of the Hellenistic era. The huge
Apulian kraters of the late Classical period frequently display a form of synoptic
narrative, two or three scenes from the same story placed one above the other
Figure 21. Red-figure Hydria by the
Kleophadres Painter. Naples
National Museum. After Stansbury-
O’Donnell (1999) Fig. 58.
61
without division of the pictorial space, and with some overlap of characters from one
scene to the next. The upper scenes have no definitive groundlines, each character or
group of characters being provided with their own, individual, dotted groundline.
The subjects for the stories are drawn mainly from 5th century Attic tragedy or from
the Homeric books. On an example in the Naples
National Museum, painted by the Darius painter and
known as the “Patroclus Vase,” Achilles sacrifices
the Trojan prisoners on the pyre of Patroclus in the
central scene (Fig. 22). On the upper tier Nestor and
Phoenix are shown sitting beneath a canopy,
accompanied by groups of heroes and deities. In the
lowest scene Automedon drags the body of Hector
behind his chariot. Repetition of protagonists is
carefully excluded on all known examples of
Apulian kraters, thus maintaining the Greek
adherence to unity of time and space.
Hellenistic Narrative Art.
Attention to conflated forms of narrative was revived in the Hellenistic age.
Despite a concomitant renewal of interest in historical narratives focusing on the
accomplishments of a leader that followed the advent of Alexander the Great, extant
examples of continuous narrative are confined to mythological themes. The earliest
Figure 22. Apulian Red-Figure
Krater. Naples National
Museum. Photo Naples
National Museum.
62
examples may have appeared shortly after the Apulian vases, at the very beginning
of the Hellenistic period, although some authorities date them as late as the 2nd
century B.C. The so-called Megarian bowls, terracotta vessels produced from molds,
originated in Athens and later spread throughout the Hellenistic world. These bowls
feature the same subjects as the Apulian vases, Homeric stories and the works of the
5th century Athenian tragedians, principally Euripides. The scenes are arranged in a
circular frieze and are examples of true continuous narrative, with undivided scenes,
repetition of the protagonist and some overlap from one scene to the next. In format
they are similar to the Classical and Archaic narratives featuring the deeds of
Theseus and Herakles, having either no background or including an occasional tree
or shrub. In addition, all characters are labeled, and, in a few cases, some lines of text
are inserted between the scenes. These features can be seen on a bowl in the New
York Metropolitan Museum, illustrating Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis (Fig. 23). It
contains five consecutive scenes. In the first scene, on the left, Agamemnon,
regretting his plan to sacrifice his daughter, sends a message to Clytemnestra to
prevent Iphigenia’s arrival. In the central scene, Menelaus snatches the message from
the messenger, and at the right the messenger hurries away. On the opposite side are
scenes showing the arrival of Iphigenia, Clytemnestra and Orestes in a wheeled cart
and Menelaus scolding Agamemnon for his attempt to prevent the sacrifice. Further
incidents in the play are displayed on a bowl in Berlin, and it is possible that the
bowls were offered in matched sets. Richard Brilliant has hypothesized that the
bowls were intended for commoners who could not read Greek, and Kurt Weitzmann
63
and Jerome Pollitt have
suggested that they were cheap
copies of expensive silver bowls
from either Greece or Ptolemaic
Egypt.
31
Several silver bowls
with reliefs from the plays of
Euripides have been discovered
in the area of ancient Bactria,
and these bowls were probably
copied from Greek examples.
They differ from the Megarian
bowls, however, in that the
characters are not labeled and
the consecutive scenes are from
different plays of Euripides. On some examples there is no apparent connection
between the scenes chosen, but a bowl in the Freer Gallery in Washington D.C.
reveals a paradigmatic or pendant relationship between episodes (Fig. 24).
“Paradigmatic relationship” is a term adopted from linguistic theory by Andrew
Stewart to describe a series of scenes derived from different stories but illustrating a
common theme, so that a metaphorical or analogous connection is established among
them.
32
Three episodes on the bowl have been identified by Weitzmann as derived
from Euripides’ Herakles Mainominos, Crowned Hippolytos and Peliades
Figure 23a-e. Megarian Bowl. New York Metropolitan
Museum. After Weitzmann (1970) Fig. 9a-e.
64
respectively
.33
The first episode on the
left shows a man killing a kneeling
youth with a club, while a distraught
woman in chains looks on, a plausible
representation of Herakles killing his
son in a fit of madness, in the presence
of his wife. The second scene
Weitzmann identifies as an enthroned
Theseus condemning Hippolytos, and the final scene on the right represents the
daughter of Pelias leading her aged father to the cauldron in which he has consented
to be boiled, thinking it will result in his rejuvenation. If these interpretations are
correct, the scenes on the bowl all illustrate the theme of unjust death brought about
by the machinations of conniving women, Hera in the case of Herakles, Phaedra in
the instance of Hippolytos and Medea in the case of Pelias. The pendant connection
between the scenes may be considered the rationale for including them in a
continuous format, separated only by back-to-back figures, but the reason for
conflating the apparently unrelated scenes on other bowls must be either an obscure
connection or simply the desire to compress many illustrations of Euripides’
llustrations of Euripides’ plays into a limited space.
The Telephos Frieze from the Great Altar of Zeus at Pergamon is the only extant
example of continuous narrative in Hellenistic relief sculpture.
34
The frieze was
placed on the upper section of a colonnaded wall surrounding the elevated upper
Figure 24. Bactrian Silver Bowl. Freer
Gallery, Washinton D.C. After Weitzmann
(1959) Fig. 78.
65
court of the altar. It is 1.5 meters high and 90 meters long. Only five scenes are
approximately intact and decipherable. Construction of the altar was probably
initiated during the reign of Eumenes II (197-159 B.C.), continued under Atalos II
(159-138 B.C.) and terminated when Pergamon was invaded by Bithynia.
The frieze tells the story of Telephos, son of Herakles and Auge, from birth to
death. Telephos was the legendary king of Mysia at the time of the Trojan Wars, and
Mysia was considered to occupy approximately the same area as did Pergamon in the
Hellenistic period. Telephos was adopted by the Pergamene kings of the Attalid
dynasty as an ancestor, in order to provide a dignified royal descent and a divine
parentage for the dynasty.
35
The attempt of the frieze to claim an ancient Greek
origin may possibly explain why the frieze is more
Classical in style than the frieze of the main altar,
which is a fine example of the Hellenistic Baroque.
The story of Telephos is told in a series of scenes
set against an abruptly shifting background, consisting
of both landscapes and interiors. Some scenes are
divided from a contiguous scene, either to the right or
to the left, by the insertion of a tree (Fig. 25) or a
column (Fig. 26), reaching from top to bottom of the
pictorial space. Since the undivided scenes feature the
same protagonist(s), the frieze agrees with the definition of continuous narrative
adopted in this study.
Figure 25. The Telephos
Frieze, Panel 12. State
Museum, Berlin. Photo Fine
Arts Museums, San Francisco.
66
The Telephos Frieze
displays several advances in
the representation of
background when it is
compared with Classical and
early Hellenistic versions of
continuous narrative. The
figures are reduced in size
and do not occupy the entire height of the pictorial space, the extra space being
devoted to elements that designate a
setting for the action. In addition, some
attempt has been made at perspective,
particularly in the scene in which
carpenters build a boat for Auge (Fig.
27). Auge and her attendants are seated
on a sloping rock wall at the rear of the
scene, the carpenters and the boat
occupying the foreground. The women
are appreciably smaller than the men,
although inclusion of the rock wall
precludes the necessity for describing
Figure 26. The Telephos Frieze. Panels 38-40 State
Museum, Berlin. Photo San Francisco Fine Arts
Museums.
Figure 27. The Telephos Frieze, Panels 5,6.
The State Museum, Berlin. Photo San
Francisco Fine Arts Museums.
67
any very distant prospect. In the majority of the scenes the figures are limited to a
single plane. Introduction of a second plane of figures, as in the boat building scene
or the scene where nymphs prepare a bath for the infant Telephos (Fig. 28), has
scarcely progressed beyond the device employed in 5th century vase paintings by
Polygnotos, in which more distant figures are placed
on an elevated groundline.
36
Representations of
landscape and architectural elements also show no
great advances over similar elements in Classical vase
painting, being restricted to pillars, altars and
occasional bushes or trees.
37
The Telephos Frieze
incorporates motifs and methods of handling space
from the Classical and earlier Hellenistic periods,
with some progression in the field of showing spatial
recession.
38
The frieze has the common attributes of
Greek and Hellenistic narrative, exhibiting consistent
proportions and perspective and an eye-level view of
events. In the opinion of Peter von Blanckenhagen,
the illogical element occasioned by a reappearance of
the same person in a unified setting is minimized, because the eye-level situation of
the frieze within a colonnade ensures that the observer never obtains a view of the
frieze as a whole.
39
Each scene is viewed individually, as it would be if the story
were told in the sequence of detached, framed pictures forming a cyclic narrative on
Figure 28. The Telephos
Frieze, Panel 8. The State
Museum, Berlin. After Heres
(1996).
68
the metopes of a Doric temple. If, however, it was the intention of the designers that
the frieze should be viewed as a series of distinct scenes, the only purpose served by
employing the continuous format would be the space saving achieved by the
omission of scene dividers. It seems more probable that the continuous narrative
style was an integral feature of the design, intended to convey the message that the
separate events constituted the integrated and continuous story of a heroic life. Even
though these events could not be viewed synoptically from a distance, the connection
between succeeding scenes would become obvious to the observer, since he was
required to make a viewing decision as to where one scene ended and another began.
Developments in narrative on the Telephos frieze were mostly anticipated in vase
painting, and the major contribution of the frieze to stylistic innovation consists of
the introduction of continuous narration into a prominent example of public relief
sculpture, expanding the style from an exclusive association in Greek art with the
minor private art form of vase decoration.
A final possible contribution of Hellenistic art to development of the continuous
narrative style is the Odyssey Frieze, a painting discovered on the walls of a Roman
house on the Esquline, built about 50 B.C. The frieze displays both a continuous
landscape background and repetition of the same protagonists in undivided scenes.
There is some evidence that the frieze was copied, at least in part, from a longer
Hellenistic original. Since the painting represents a starting point for the
development of the expansive Roman landscape paintings of the Third Style, its
discussion will be delayed until the consideration of landscape painting in Chapter 4.
69
Conclusion
Visual stories were told in the ancient Near East as early as 3000 B.C. A direct
influence on Roman visual narrative cannot be definitively affirmed for the art of any
predecessor prior to the Greeks. It is, however, readily apparent that many of the
same solutions to telling multiscenic stories were arrived at by the artists of cultures
surrounding the ancient Mediterranean. The basic narrative devices employed in the
construction of Roman continuous narration were complete by the Hellenistic era,
developed in the narrative art of predecessors. The earliest narrative art of the
Mediterranean area was that of the Egyptians, who initiated the alignment of figures
and objects on groundlines, in order to give an indication that events, either narrative
or non-narrative, occurred in a specific space. The introduction of horizontal
registration, resulting in an increase in the number of incidents that could be included
in a given space, was also an Egyptian innovation and was employed by all
subsequent cultures of the ancient world, including the Greeks and the Romans. The
Egyptians were responsible for inventing the partial horizontal register, whereby
additional groups, or even additional events occurring at a different time, could be
inserted into a larger scene. This device can be seen in the story of Nebamun and the
Syrian patient (Fig.5) and also in the Battle of Qadesh (Fig.8), and was used
extensively by the Romans in historical continuous narratives such as the Column of
Trajan.
Further Egyptian introductions, also designed to provide maximum information,
were, firstly, the use of planimetric elevation or bird’s-eye view for enclosures such
70
as walled camps or cities, the buildings within the walls being viewed at eye level
(see Figs.8 and 13). This device was utilized by both the Assyrians and the Romans
and was associated particularly with continuous or conflated representations of
historical events. The final Egyptian contribution was the provision of topographic
details for the site of a battle. The relationship between the city and the Orontes river
is carefully delineated in the Rameside continuous narrative featuring the Battle of
Qadesh.
Conflated Assyrian battle scene employed most of the devices introduced by the
Egyptians and added a more extensive description of the terrain. Sennacherib’s siege
of Lachish is not itself a continuous narrative, as there is no repetition of characters,
neither the king nor any other protagonist appearing more than once. The siege,
however, provides the first example of the continuous background for conflated
events that was a prominent feature of Roman developments in the continuous style.
Assyrian visual battle stories also included a very detailed and realistic description of
the arms, armor, weaponry and clothing of both victors and vanquished, a
characteristic that has been ascribed to Roman continuous battle narratives,
particularly the Column of Trajan.
Concerns with landscape background are very evident in the two conflated
paintings from Thera, which provide precedents for both continuous landscape
friezes, such as the Odyssey frieze, and the landscape panel paintings of the
Pompeian Third Style. In “Flotilla” (Fig. 16) a continuous landscape is displayed as a
background for successive scenes, whereas the “Sea Battle” (Fig. 15) shows several
71
scenes against a single, undivided landscape. The Apulian kraters of the Late
Classical period also show an affinity with the Roman single panel continuous
narratives, since they contain episodes from the same story set on individual, partial
groundlines within the same undivided pictorial space.
The continuous, circular arrangement of scenes on Phoenician bowls may well
have influenced the similar format of continuous narratives on Greek Archaic,
Classical and Hellenistic vessels, since these Phoenician artifacts have been found
throughout the Greek world, as a result of widespread Phoenician trade. The exact
subject of the narratives on these bowls has, in most cases, not been determined, but
at least some examples appear to deal with legendary or mythic stories (see Fig. 14),
although others show the more familiar subject of battle and city siege.
A consideration of methodology indicates that similarities existed between
ancient deployments of conflated narrative formats and more recent Roman
development of the genre. However, these similarities extended beyond the details of
narrative constructions and devices to include both subject matter and narrative
intent. The most extensive use of the continuous narrative style in Roman art can be
found in the fields of historical narration and mythological landscape painting. The
first of these two categories encompasses encomiastic accounts of recent events,
designed to illustrate the meritorious deeds of an individual, the purpose of such
narratives being the enhancement of status and the acquisition of praise. In Roman
art both the performance of civic duties and the attainment of military success were
considered suitable subjects for such visual biographies, and these are also the events
72
chosen for celebration in extant examples of Egyptian continuous narrative. Assyrian
narratives concentrated on success in war and added the related elite occupation of
hunting to the subjects for conflated narration, and the paintings of Thera appear to
concern leadership in war and a noteworthy civic occasion. We know little about the
social structure of Thera, but Egypt and Assyria were notably hierarchical societies,
showing great concern with the establishment of status. It is tempting to propose that
the use of a conflated style in the historical narratives of hierarchical cultures serves
to enhance an encomiastic purpose by permitting an expansion of the narrative to
include multiple events and also provides a linkage of cause and effect between
meritorious deeds and their consequences.
Antecedents can be found in the paintings of Thera and the Apulian vases for the
panel paintings of the second popular category of Roman continuous narrative. The
continuous landscape backgrounds of the Thera paintings and the mythological
subject matter and arrangement of narrative scenes on the Apulian kraters are both
related to Roman mythological landscape paintings. However, the combination of
mythological subject matter and continuous landscape does not occur before the
Hellenistic era, and the Roman mythological panel paintings in continuous format do
not appear to have had any direct predecessors in ancient Mediterranean art.
Roman Antecedents of Continuous Narrative
Examples of the fully developed continuous narrative style have been found in
Roman art from the 1st century B.C. to the late 3rd century A.D. However, narrative
art prior to the 1st century B.C. was restricted to the medium of painting, of which
73
little has survived, and it is possible that continuous narration may have been
featured in certain types of early Roman painting. The continuous narrative style is
particularly prominent in Roman narratives featuring recent history, and may have
originated in the Roman tradition of representing interesting and important events for
public consumption.
40
Numerous paintings portraying current events are mentioned
in the literature, including an account of a victory banquet that was placed on the
wall of the Temple of Liberty by T. Sempronius Gracchus in 214 B.C. (Livy,
24.16.16) and the paintings Cicero ( Sest. 93) tells us were employed by lawyers to
illustrate their cases. These paintings were possibly intended more as records than as
works of art and were undoubtedly designed to convey as much information as
possible, an endeavor that would be aided by the employment of the continuous
narrative style.
The earliest and most enduring genre of historical painting was the triumphal
painting, celebrating the deeds of individual commanders in war. These works have
received the greatest attention as possible precursors of continuous narratives on
imperial triumphal monuments, since they were formulated with the same purpose in
mind, the glorification of deeds in battle. The first commemorative paintings
recorded in the literature celebrated victories in the Italian wars. They were placed
on the walls of public buildings, and there is no record of paintings being carried in
triumphal processions before the time of the Punic Wars. According to Pliny (HN
35.19) the first battle painting was produced by the senator, Fabius Pictor, at the time
when painting was still considered an appropriate, although unusual, activity for the
74
aristocracy. It was placed on the walls of the Temple of Salus in 302 B.C. and
probably featured the victories in the Italian wars of C. Junius Babulcus, the builder
of the temple. Other paintings of Italic victories were those of T. Papirius Cursor
over the Samnites in 272 B.C. and M. Fulvius Flaccus over the Volsinii, placed in
the temples of Consus and Vertumnus respectively (Festus, De Verb. Sig. Epit. 228).
The first celebratory painting from the Punic Wars was also situated on the wall of a
public building. M. Valerius Messala’s defeat of the Carthaginians in Sicily was
painted on the wall of the Curia Hostilia, the old Senate House, in 264 B.C. (Pliny,
HN 35. 22-25). Literary accounts of later victories in the Punic Wars indicate that
paintings of battles were carried in triumphal processions and were included in the
triumph of Marcellus for the defeat of Syracuse in 211 B.C. (Livy, 26.21) and the
triumph of Scipio Africanus in 201 B.C. for the Battle of Zama (App. Pun. 66). Livy
(38.43.9) states that the triumphal paintings of M. Fulvius Nobilior, celebrating the
victory over Ambracia in 187 B.C., were later displayed in the atrium of his house,
and public display of portable encomiastic paintings was apparently not limited to
the triumph. In 146 B.C. L. Hostilius Mancinus not only displayed paintings of the
siege of Carthage in the Forum but stood beside them, explaining his part in the siege
to the passers-by. (Livy, 41.28.10).
41
Accounts of triumphs in the 2nd century B.C.
continued to include paintings of battle and victory, as Rome advanced her conquest
of the Greek world. Paintings are mentioned in the processions of Scipio Asiaticus
and Aemilius Paullus and, in the 1st century B.C., are described in the triumphs of
Sulla, Pompey and Caesar. In the Imperial period literary accounts specifically
75
mention paintings in the triumphal processions of Germanicus and Titus, but it may
be assumed that battle paintings continued to be employed in all triumphal
processions of the late Republican and Imperial periods. In keeping with the usual
Roman practice of providing a very cursory account when describing works of art,
we do not have detailed descriptions of any triumphal or early historical painting.
42
Speculation on content and style are based on sparse hints in the literature, together
with knowledge of contemporary artistic practices. Roger Ling considers that the
most probable source for the earliest paintings was Etruscan art, since the Etruscans
were more likely than the Greeks to picture actual events, as evidenced by Etruscan
tomb paintings from the 4th century B.C.
43
The most notable of these 4th century
tombs was the Francois Tomb, whose decorations included both Homeric myth and
Etruscan battle scenes featuring the Vulci, the family to whom the tomb belonged.
44
Charles Dawson believes that both the content and the style of triumphal paintings
were derived from Etruscan and Oscan tomb paintings.
45
However, by the 2nd
century B.C. it is highly likely that the painters employed to produce prestigious art
for public display in the triumph were Greeks. We know that Aemilius Paullus
imported the Greek artist/philosopher, Metrodorus, to produce paintings for his
triumph after Pydna (Pliny, HN 35.135), and the practice of employing esteemed
Greek artists continued in the Imperial period, although choice of subject matter and
style was probably determined by Roman requirements.
The portable paintings displayed in the triumph were executed on panels,
designed to be carried in the procession. Larger paintings, probably painted on cloth,
76
were mounted on wheeled floats.
46
These large paintings possibly contained more
than a single scene from a battle or siege, but the methods employed for scene
division are unknown. The triumphal paintings may have been the source for the
documentary realism displayed in descriptions of arms, armor and dress of the
combatants that was a feature of later Imperial triumphal monuments.
47
Appian’s
description (Mith. 116-117) of Pompey’s victory over Mithridates, shown in pictorial
form in his triumphal procession of 61 B.C., indicates that this complex account of
the entire war obviously occupied more than a single scene, and it is possible that the
continuous narrative style may have been used.
48
No direct evidence exists for such
a use, but the continuous style would have functioned as a method of saving space
and linking the various episodes in the course of a war. In 1860 G. Semper advanced
the idea that at least some triumphal paintings may have been in frieze form, suitable
for employment of the continuous narrative style.
49
Semper proposed that the
paintings consisted of long ribbons with intermittent supports, so that they could be
carried in the procession. However, the description of numerous scenes from the
same war could equally well have been achieved by placing a series of scenes on
separate panels carried in sequence in the procession, by registration of individual
panels, or by some type of single panel continuous narration. Josephus’ description
(BJ 7.143) of the triumphal paintings in Titus’ triumph for the Jewish War indicates
that, on this occasion, the paintings were not ribbon-like. The paintings, large enough
so that their transport caused some concern, displayed many episodes in the war, but
each was framed in ivory and gold.
77
A further characteristic of the fully developed Imperial historical narrative was
the inclusion of detailed topography and terrain. Mario Torelli has described the
Column of Trajan as consisting essentially of a ribbon-like geographical map, with
various incidents superimposed upon it.
50
Tacitus’ description (Ann. 2.4) of
Germanicus’triumphal paintings indicates that they included representations of
mountains, rivers and battles, as did the paintings for Titus’ Jewish triumph (BJ
5.5.7). The description of a specific early triumphal painting explicitly implicates the
use of a map to locate the battles of the war in space. Livy (41.28.8-10) tells us that a
painting celebrating the victory of the younger T. Sempronius Gracchus over
Sardinia in 177 B.C. was placed in the Temple of the Mater Matuta. The painting
took the form of a map of the island, with the various battles shown at particular
sites, presumably in the form of pictures. This type of pictorial cartography was
known as chorography in the Greco-Roman era. Chorographic maps consisted of an
outline, highlighted with major physical features and man-made structures in
pictorial form. Chorography was almost certainly a Hellenistic invention, brought to
Rome by Greek scholars from Alexandria and Asia Minor.
51
A recently discovered
papyrus fragment of Hellenistic date is thought to represent a section of the
Geographoumena of Artemodorus of Ephesus and includes such a map, consisting of
an outline with a few chorographic pictures.
52
There are no extant remains of Roman
chorographic maps, but we can gain an idea of their appearance from the Tabula
Peutingeriana (Fig. 29), a medieval copy of a 4th century A.D. Roman map. The map
has the form of a long ribbon. Topographical features and buildings are shown from
78
variable viewpoints, including birds’-eye
view, in order to display their most
characteristic features, and their scale is not
consistent. These features of variable
perspective and inconsistencies in size were
incorporated into Imperial continuous
narratives, providing support for the idea that
map making influenced visual narratives
employing a continuous setting for events discrete in time. Tiberius Sempronius
Gracchus’ map of Sardinia may not have been the first attempt by the family of the
Gracchi to relate the events of a campaign in the form of a map. Varro ( Rust. 1.2.1)
recounts seeing a pictorial account of the conquest of Italy in the Temple of Tellus.
The painting was commissioned by Gaius Sempronius Gracchus in about 254 B.C.,
and was probably in the form of a map.
53
The painting of the siege of Carthage,
displayed by Mancinus in the Forum, also
included a plan or map of the site.We have no
idea whether it included human figures, with or
without repetition of the major protagonist.
The Nile Mosaic (Fig. 30) is an extant work
of art that suggests a possible method of
mapping military campaigns in triumphal
paintings. The mosaic was discovered in a hall
Figure 29. Tabula Peutingeriana. Vienna
National Library. After Torelli (1982)
Fig. V.4.
Figure 30. The Nile Mosaic.
Palestrina National Museum. After
Holliday (2002) Fig. 54.
79
adjacent to the Temple of Fortuna in Praeneste. The temple is dated to the late 2nd
century B.C., but the mosaic is thought to be a copy of a Hellenistic painting
executed in Alexandria as early as the 3rd century B.C.
54
The mosaic is in the form
of a pictorial map of the Nile, from the Ethiopian hinterland in the south, shown at
the top of the map, to the delta in the north. Along the course of the river are
dispersed vignettes of landscapes, buildings and people engaged in a variety of
occupations.
55
Filippo Coarelli considers the mosaic to be an actual pictorial map,
featuring recognizable sites and buildings of the era.
56
The southern section, which is
distinctly separated from the northern region, shows a wild landscape, populated by
beasts and hunters. This section is succeeded by representations of the pharaonic
temples of upper Egypt, and the buildings in the delta are Hellenistic in style. The
mosaic is characterized by inconsistent perspective, the viewpoints of the landscape
elements and buildings varying from bird’s-eye view to eye level, and the genre to
which the mosaic belongs may have provided a model for similar inconsistencies in
later Roman continuous narratives. The mosaic itself does not qualify as a
continuous narrative, because it does not tell a cohesive, sequential story, and there is
no repetition of recognizable protagonists. However, the mosaic does initiate a
method characteristic of Roman continuous narratives, whereby vignettes of human
activity are dispersed within a continuous landscape setting.
The Hellenistic illustrated scroll provides a final suggestion for the origins of
Roman continuous narrative and has been advocated by several scholars over the
past hundred years. The idea of the illustrated scroll was favored particularly by Kurt
80
Weitzmann, following in the footsteps of Theodor Birt, who proposed that the
illustrated book roll was a primary source for Greek and Roman narrative art.
57
Weitzmann attributed the episodic nature of continuous narratives to the conflation
of the illustrations and the omission of the intervening text. This view has been
disputed by Jocelyn Penny Small.
58
Her survey of Greek and Roman narrative art has
found very few examples that follow a text exactly. Artists appear to have
formulated their own versions of a story, drawn from a variety of sources, which, in
the earlier period particularly, were mainly oral. In addition, there is no firm
evidence that illustrated narrative texts existed in the Hellenistic era, the first extant
text being dated to the 2nd century A.D. Illustrations in Hellenistic papyrus rolls are
confined to scientific or practical matters, and Small asserts that, considering the
thousands of papyri that have been discovered, illustrated stories, if they existed at
all, must have been rare.
The perishable nature of triumphal paintings has ensured that none have
survived, nor do we have any remnants of paintings on temple walls. However,
certain paintings of triumph and battle have endured in Republican tombs, where
they served the purpose of memoria, reminding the descendants of the deceased of
the past glories of their family. The most notable and the best preserved of these
paintings is also the oldest. A fragment of a painting, detached from the wall of a
rectangular tomb on the Esquiline and now in the Capitoline Museum, appears to be
part of a frieze that originally occupied all four walls of the tomb, extending for
approximately 15 m. (Fig.31). The fragment is divided into at least three distinct
81
registers, with indications of an additional
upper register. It is probable that the time
sequence should be read from bottom to top,
the usual sequence in registered Roman
narratives. The bottom register features a battle
taking place before a fortified city, whose walls
are barely visible at the left. In the second
register, two large figures, occupying the entire
height of the register, meet each other, each
man of the pair stretching out his right hand.
The figure at the left wears a short kilt, greaves
on his legs and possibly a muscle cuirass. He is obviously a soldier, presumably the
leader of one of the factions fighting below. The second figure wears a short toga
over a tunic. To the right four figures in white tunics observe the meeting of the
leaders. They are arranged one behind the other, as though standing on a slope, and
are considerably smaller than the negotiators. At the left is a soldier, seen in rear
view, who appears to be still engaged in battle. He raises his right hand, holding
either a spear or a sword. The protagonists are labeled. The soldier is M. Fanius and
the togate man is Q. Fabius. The same protagonists appear in the third register, in
much the same poses. The soldier now has a helmet and shield and the togate
negotiator carries a long spear, which is planted on the ground, point upwards. Only
his right leg and arm and a portion of his torso are intact. The figure at the left is
Figure 31. The Esquiline Frieze.
Capitoline Museum, Rome.
82
again labeled as M. Fanius but the label for the right hand figure is lost. In this scene
a city wall with crenellations is clearly visible at the left, with two small figures in
togas peering over it. They are not soldiers, so Peter Holliday asserts that the city is
either a friendly one or, more likely, has already surrendered.
59
All that is left of the
upper register is a leg and a foot that, from their proportions and appearance,
probably belonged to M. Fanius.
The most obvious interpretation of the scenes is that they represent a battle or
siege of a city and the subsequent peace negotiations. Extrapolating from the names
of the opponents, the general consensus is that the scenes are from the Second
Samnite War, and the togate figure is Q. Fabius Maximus Rutilianus, who was
granted a triumph in 322 B.C.for his capture of Sentinum in this war and died about
280 B.C.
60
The armor of various soldiers has been correlated with Samnite types of
the late 4th century B.C., and the Roman wears the short toga of the period. The
spear he carries indicates his possession of imperium as commander of the Roman
forces.
Stylistically the painting is quite advanced in its use of color and attempts at
spatial depth. The representation of figures includes foreshortening and obviously
owes much to the Greeks. However, the subject matter and treatment are specifically
Roman.
61
The painting displays a number of characteristics that find full expression
in the historical relief sculptures of the Imperial period. Most noteworthy is the great
attention paid to details of arms and armor, so that the opponents of the Romans may
be readily recognized as Samnites. Other attributes that appear in later
83
commemorations are the use of inconsistencies in size to delineate important
characters and the employment of small scale architecture to indicate locality. The
desire to describe the war and subsequent victory negotiations in detail is evidenced
by the use of registration. The practice of using registration in order to combine
several scenes from the same story in the same space is not a common characteristic
of Greek narrative art. It was used by the Egyptians and Assyrians in encomiastic
narratives, frequently in combination with continuous narration, and it is possible
that the Esquiline frieze was originally an example of the same continuous narrative
format.
62
In the present truncated state of the painting there is no evidence for the use
of continuous narrative, since the repeated appearances of the two protagonists are
definitively separated into separate registers. However, the large extent of the
original would lend itself to employment of the frieze type of continuous narration
used in Egyptian and Assyrian battle narratives.
Other surviving paintings from early Republican tombs are either very
fragmentary or poorly preserved. The Tomb of the Cornelii Scipiones, who were an
important patrician family prominent in the wars of the 3rd century B.C., was
renovated in the 2nd century and decorated with a painted frieze on the exterior
walls. The frieze was repainted three times, the two older friezes consisting of figural
paintings, whereas the final renovation was restricted to a stylized decorative motif.
63
Only a few, very damaged fragments of the two original paintings remain, enough to
determine that the friezes contained two registers and appear to have featured a
triumphal procession.
64
84
Information gathered on early Roman narrative art indicates that many
characteristic features of late Republican and Imperial continuous narratives,
particularly those in the “historical” category, were initiated in the mid-Republican
period. Narrative paintings from this era appear to have concentrated on themes of
battle and triumph and to have been designed for the purpose of imparting
information in as great detail as possible. Although there is no evidence that any of
these paintings employed the continuous narrative style, Egyptian and Assyrian
examples indicate that this style was considered appropriate for the express goal of
achieving maximum coverage of the events in a war. The development of pictorial
maps presages the inclusion of topography and the definition of precise localities that
are a feature of Imperial continuous narratives. These maps presented geographical
information on a campaign and permitted several scenes from a war to be combined
in a single picture. The introduction of registration in the Esquiline Tomb painting
provides evidence for an interest in expansive narrative at an early date, and the
realistic details of arms and armor in this painting foreshadow the concern with
appurtenances of warfare displayed in historical continuous narratives such as
Trajan’s Column.
Development of the mythological panel type of continuous narrative has left
fewer traces in early Roman narrative art. However, the chorographic map provides a
possible starting point for an interest in integrating temporally disjunct events within
a unified landscape background, and these maps were also characterized by the
inconsistencies in size and perspective found in the mythological panel paintings.
85
The Nile mosaic indicates that the concept of placing distinct and discontinuous
activities within a landscape setting was probably initiated as early as the 3rd century
B.C.
86
Notes: Chapter 1
1. Davies (1996) 216. The actual temporal sequence of the images on the Narmer
palette does not appear to follow logical arrangement. Whitney Davies has
proposed a complex scheme for reading the images, involving a flipping of the
palette from side to side, a procedure that would be extremely difficult,
considering the weight of the palette. The events portrayed are as follows: on the
obverse top the ruler inspects the corpses of his beheaded enemies; in the central
register his retainers restrain two mythical animals on leashes; and in the lowest
register the ruler, in the form of a bull, tramples his enemies before a walled
town that is shown in planimetric view. On the reverse a large scene shows the
ruler smiting a kneeling enemy. The king’s sandal bearer, in a much smaller
scale, stands on a subsidiary groundline. A symbolic rebus is also introduced, a
loaf like shape from which sprout papyrus flowers and which terminates in a
human head. The head is pulled back by a hovering falcon, by means of a hook
inserted in a nostril. This symbol is thought to indicate that the king, with the help
of Horus, has subdued enemies from the north. The lowest register shows two
fleeing enemies. Although the king appears twice on the palette, the separation in
space of these appearances excludes the palette from consideration as a
continuous narrative.
2. Gaballa (1976) 60-7.
3. Kantor (1957) 46-7. A conflated format was not itself a new development in
Egyptian art, the innovation in the Amarna period consisting of its application to
specific events. From about the 5
th
dynasty of the Old Kingdom tombstones were
decorated with reliefs detailing the complex, two-day events of an Egyptian
funeral. They were shown in a temporal sequence, in registers, without separation
between individual events and with repetition of various religious functionaries.
These functionaries were not identified as representations of specific persons, and
the generic nature of the story excludes it from the category of continuous
narrative.
4. Gaballa (1976)
5. Perkins (1957) 54.
6. Winter (1985)
87
7. It cannot be stated unequivocally that the three appearances of the prisoner and
his two guards in the second register are intended to represent the same group of
people at three different times. It is possible that the designer considered them to
be three different groups in the same procession. However, their actions do form
a logical time sequence for a single group. In the bottom register, indications that
the onagers drawing the three chariots are speeding up from left to right confirms
the supposition that the register represents the sequential actions of a single
charioteer, as he drives his chariot into battle.
8. Russell (1993) 70-1.
9. Guterbock (1957) 66-7.
10. Russell (1993) 64-5. In addition to written accounts that agree with the visual
imagery, recent excavations at the site of battle indicate that ancient Lachish
was a walled city on a mound, and remains of the Assyrian siege ramps still
remain.
11. Throughout antiquity, hunting was regarded as a substitute for war, a parallel
opportunity for displaying manly courage. Slaying of wild beasts is a metaphor
for the protection offered to the state by the king and may also be considered as
a form of civic service to farmers and other inhabitants of the area.
12. Guterbock (1957) 69-70.
13. Marinatos (1973) 59: Doumas (1983) 88-9.
14. Doumas (1983) 105.
15. Castriota (1991) 17-9.
16. Harrison (1972) 353-78. A exception appears to have been made for the Battle
of Marathon, a visual record of which, according to Pausanius (1.15.3), was
placed in the Stoa Poikile and was probably featured on the South Frieze of the
Nike Temple. This battle, a seminal event in Athenian history, was rapidly
mythicized and attained the status of epic. In the Stoa, the battle was overseen
by gods and eponymous heroes of the city.
17. Hanfmann (1957) 75.
18. Robert (1881) 129.
19. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 150-2.
88
20. Blanckenhagen (1957) 79.
21. Weitzmann (1970) 22.
22. Dawson (1965) 26.
23. Richter (1932) 109-30.
24. For discussion of the bow cases, see Ratzel (1978) 172-6; Meyboom (1978) 64-
65; Swain and Ling (1980) 171.
25. Robert (1899) 151-3.
26. The introduction of the bow as an item in the education of Achilles is the only
concession to Scythian interests demonstrated by an artist decorating a bow case
specifically for a Scythian chief.
27. See Chapter 6 for the continuation of the narrative between the middle and
lowest register of Panel II on the Arch of Septimius Severus at Rome.
28. Meyboom (1978) 65; Swain and Ling (1980) 171.
29. Snodgrass (1982) 3; Connelly (1993) 119-20. Ann Connelly considers the
episodes to be separate in time as well as in space, and has coined the term
‘episodic’ narrative to describe them, although her description coincides
essentially with that proposed by Anthony Snodgrass for synoptic narrative,
“Several conflated episodes from the same story that occur at different times and
in different spaces, without repetition of the protagonist.”
30. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 142-5.
31. Weitzmann (1970) 26-7; Brilliant (1984) 41; Pollitt (1988) 256.
32. Stewart (1983) 53-74.
33.Weitzmann (1959) 70-1.
34. Pollitt (1988) 204; Stewart (1996) 48. Jerome Pollitt instances the Telephos
Frieze as evidence that continuous narrative was a Hellenistic invention.
Presumably this contention is based on Peter von Blanckenhagen’s definition of
continuous narrative, which requires a background of landscape or architecture.
Andrew Stewart, in his discussion of the Telephos Frieze, also states that the
Greeks invented continuous narrative.
89
35. Stewart (1996) 42. Unlike many of the cities of Asia Minor, Pergamon had no
Greek mother city and, therefore, no attested ancestry for her rulers. Adoption of
Telephos was an attempt to remedy this lack.
36. In the scene of Telephos’ bath, the figure of a deity in the background is placed
on an elevated, rocky throne.
37. Heres (1996) 102. Huberta Heres affirms that the trees were considerably more
realistic than the trees on Classical and Archaic vases. They had thick, leafy
crowns and rich foliage, in which birds were fluttering.
38. Ibid. 102-5.
39. Blanckenhagen (1957) 78.
40. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81.
41. The supreme commander in the siege was Scipio Aemilianus, so Mancinus did
not merit a triumph. His action appears to have been motivated by a conviction
that his contribution to the siege had not been fully appreciated.
42. Roman descriptions of paintings concentrated on content rather than on style or
composition. For example, Appian’s description of Caesar’s triumph (Bell. Civ.
2.101) mentions twenty paintings of events in the Civil War and tells us that
they included representations of Caesar’s defeated enemies committing suicide.
He neglects to mention any details of how these events were arranged on the
twenty panels.
43. Ling (1991) 9.
44. For a complete description of the paintings in the Francois Tomb, their
allegorical and pendant relationships, see Holliday (1993) 175-97.
45. Dawson (1965) 50-1.
46. Holliday (1997) 134. Apparently some of these paintings were enormous, up to
four stories in height.
47. Hamberg (1945) 125. A characteristic of monuments such as Trajan’s Column
was a realistic description of certain military details, coupled with an unrealistic
representation of space. These attributes will be discussed further in Chapter 5.
48. Ibid. 127.
49. Semper (1860) 295.
90
50. Torelli (1982) 119-21.
51. Small (2003) 119-24 We know that at least one Alexandrian mapmaker resided
and plied his trade in Rome in 164 B.C. The exiled Egyptian king, Ptolemy VI
Philometer, lodged with an Alexandrian Topographos when he came to Rome
seeking aid against his brother (Diod. Sic. Exerpta 31.18.2); (Val. Max. 5.1.1).
52. For a discussion of the map and accompanying text, see Gallazi and Kramer
(1998) 189-208.
53. Dawson (1965) 51.
54. Meyboom (1995). Meyboom argues for a 3
rd
century date for the origin model
and that the mosaic represents a conflation of separate scenes.
55. Coarelli (1990) 225-51.
56. Ibid. Coarelli asserts that the vignettes represent events in the celebration
associated with the Grand Procession of Ptolemy II Philopater, which would
confer a narrative character on the mosaic.
57. Birt (1907): Weitzmann (1970).
58. Small (2003) 157-60. Small points out that the majority of the artists were from
the lower ranks of society. Although by the later Republic it is likely that most
could read, it is unlikely that they possessed copies of texts to use as models.
The possibility does exist that they worked from pattern books, copied from
textual illustrations or derived from the text itself.
59. Holliday (2002) 86.
60. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 115: Coarelli (1972) 200-8; Holliday (2002) 89.
61. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 115 and Holliday (2002) 89 invoke the Greeks of
Southern Italy as the source for Hellenistic elements in the style of the painting.
62. Brilliant (1963) 26.The possibility that the Esquiline Frieze was a continuous
narrative was suggested originally by Richard Brilliant and endorsed by Peter
Holliday.
63. Coarelli (1972) 36-106; Holliday (2002) 33-6.
91
64. Coarelli (1976) 22-8; Holliday (2002) 36-43. Figural paintings from the Arieti
Tomb are better preserved but consist of a number of disconnected fragments,
having been removed from the interior walls when the tomb was destroyed in
order to erect a modern building. From the preserved fragments, a poor quality
watercolor and descriptions made when the tomb was excavated in 1875, it
appears that one wall was decorated with scenes of combat and another with a
triumphal procession that included a quadriga and a number of lectors. There is
no evidence for any form of registration or conflation. The representation of
figures is very rudimentary. They are reddish brown in color, surrounded by
thick outlines and lack three-dimensionality. The date of the paintings is
disputed and they have been attributed to dates ranging from the mid-second
century B.C. to the early 1
st
century B.C.
92
Chapter 2: The Social Context of Roman Continuous Narrative.
This chapter investigates aspects of Roman social, religious and ethical
ideologies that are considered to be important influences on the content and style of
narrative art.
Roman Character and Society
Investigation of reasons for the production of art in the Roman world indicates
that artistic sponsorship was overwhelmingly dictated by a desire to establish or
enhance the status of the sponsor. Continuous narratives in Roman art may be
divided into categories reflecting the intent of the patron. The first category consists
of narratives on public monuments, designed to be viewed by the populace as a
whole. These monuments may be subdivided into official commemorations
sanctioned by the senate or local governments and private monuments funded by
individuals. The second category comprises monuments sequestered in private
houses or tombs, seen only by family and invited guests.
1
Examples of the first
category are, almost without exception, encomiastic accounts of the meritorious
deeds of an individual, performed in the service of the state, and concerns with
status were reflected in commemorative monuments celebrating both civic and
military achievements.
2
Examples in the second category, art restricted to the
private sphere, have been discovered mainly in paintings decorating the walls of
Roman houses. As in the case of commemorative monuments, the decoration of the
Roman house was designed to impress.
3
In the public section of the house, where
the owner conducted business and received clients, wall paintings emphasized the
93
dignity and wealth of the householder. In the private section, reserved for family,
friends and other invited guests, the purpose of decoration was to indicate the taste
and refinement of the master and his gentlemanly education in the heritage of
Greece, since the narrative content of Roman wall paintings is largely confined to
the subjects of Greek mythology and the Homeric stories.
A concern with status extending into all aspects of Roman life, including art, is
indicative of a noticeably hierarchical society. Niels Hannestad has opined that the
Romans were the most conscious of status in the ancient world and had the highest
degree of social stratification.
4
Roman society was, however, also characterized by
an unusual degree of social mobility, so that efforts directed towards the
enhancement of status could be rewarded by advances in both rank and privilege.
The hierarchical nature of Roman society dates back to its earliest recorded history.
After the expulsion of the kings, Rome prided itself on being a republic, but was, in
effect, an oligarchy, with government firmly in the hands of the elite classes. Only
the ranks of the equites and the senatorial class could hope to traverse the graded
political appointments of the cursus honorum or assume military commands and,
prior to the time of the late Republic, the highest rank of consul was most often held
by members of the old nobility.
5
According to Cicero, the nobility were favored
because their forebears deserved well of the state, and it was assumed that a man
would be worthy of his ancestors (Pis. 1.2). Indeed, it was believed that merit ran in
families and ancestry imposed obligations to live up to the deeds of famous
predecessors.
6
Wealth was also of importance in securing power and status. There
94
were property qualifications for admittance to the higher ranks of the senators and
equites and political appointments required a considerable outlay of money. Wealth
was derived, for the upper classes, from inherited land or from lucrative
appointments in the provinces, since the aristocracy was traditionally debarred from
trade. Upper class power resided in a network of family alliances cemented by
marriage and in the client system, whereby, in exchange for economic and legal
assistance, the client offered political and military support to his patron.
7
Below the clarissimi (the senatorial class) and the equites (the knights) in social
standing were the rank and file of Roman citizens, composed of the ingenui, the
freeborn citizens, and the liberti (freed slaves), with the slaves themselves
constituting the lowest echelon of society. Slaves composed a high percentage of
the population, up to 50% by some estimates.
8
However, the system of Roman
slavery was distinguished from that of other slave owning cultures, such as
Classical Greece, by the ease with which manumission could be obtained and by the
fact that formal manumission carried with it the privilege of Roman citizenship.
9
Consequently, considering the large number of slaves in the population, by the late
Republic the lower ranks of Roman citizens contained a high proportion of
freedmen, and those of servile descent greatly outnumbered those whose ancestors
had always been free.
10
Together, the ingenui and freedmen constituted the artisan
and commercial class, with freedmen almost invariably remaining the clients of
their former masters.
11
Some freedman became wealthy in their own right, as
evidenced by the opulent Tomb of the Baker, Eurysaces, constructed on the Isola
95
Sacra in the Flavian period, and the well-appointed house in Pompeii of the
freedmen brothers, the Vetii, decorated shortly before the eruption of Vesuvius in
79 A.D. However, hierarchical distinctions between freed and free born were
maintained. Freedmen were excluded from the magistracies and senate and denied
equestrian or senatorial status to the third generation.
12
As a class they were
regarded with contempt, as people with no ancestors, the “opfices et tabinarios et
illam omnem faecam civitatem,” ( the craftsmen and shopkeepers and all those dregs
of the city) whom Cicero considered beneath the notice of a gentleman (Flac. 18).
Although contemporary Hellnistic cities were not exempt from concerns with
status, the Romans were noted for their emphasis on recognizing and maintaining
class distinctions. Rights, duties and privileges were legally defined and rank was
made visible by distinctive dress and the hierarchical arrangement of audiences on
public occasions.
13
Efforts to define and achieve rank were a dynamic force in
Roman society and exercised a predictable influence on the construction of public
art. The visible expressions of status that could be emphasized in commemorative
statues included dress, deportment and general appearance. Visual narratives could
make a more comprehensive contribution to arousing admiration in the viewer by
showing actions compatible with ancient Roman morality and standards of
behavior. The Romans were conservative by nature, and Republican ideals from the
early days of Rome continued to be eulogized in art and literature until at least the
2
nd
century A.D.
14
96
The archaeological record indicates that the tribal ancestors of the Romans
settled in the area of the Palatine Hill in about 1000 B.C, took up agriculture and
honed their military skills in order to fight off the encroachments of their neighbors
and expand their own territory.
15
The Romans idealized these farmer-soldier
forebears and Polybius (6.53) has described how they honored wax masks of the
ancestors, keeping them in household shrines and displaying them at sacrifices and
in funeral processions.
16
To these ancestors they ascribed virtues appropriate to their
dual status as agriculturalists and warriors. The deeds of the almost legendary
heroes of the past were enshrined in the mos maiorum, the custom of the ancestors,
as the basis for Roman morality. Adherence to the mos maiorum defined what it
meant to be a Roman and distinguished their nation from the remainder of the
Hellenistic world.
The first written enumeration of these specifically Roman virtues was to be
found in the Law of the Twelve Tables, enacted in 451 B.C. to protect the Plebeians
from Patrician encroachments.
17
This law remained the basis for the Roman legal
system until late antiquity. It dealt mainly with economic affairs and the settlement
of claims in a small agricultural community, according to custom and tradition.
Honestas and prudentia were emphasized, together with frugalitas and industria,
based on an established tradition of thrift, simplicity and hard work suitable for
subsistence farmers in a harsh environment.
18
The laws also took account of what
was owed to the state and community, including religious, military, civic and
familial obligations. The concept of pietas encompassed dutiful respect for all
97
legally constituted forms of authority, not only the gods but also the state, the head
of the family and of the gens, or clan. As a constantly embattled nation, military
duties of the citizen-soldiers were a primary obligation, and the Romans prized
virtues that enhanced military effectiveness. Preeminent among these virtues was
the peculiarly Roman attribute of virtus. Virtus is usually translated as “manly
courage;” it essentially defined the character of the effective military leader, an
eager bravery with which the ruling classes were supposed to dedicate themselves to
the defense of Rome and to attacks upon her enemies. As Peter Holliday has noted,
virtus was the essence of Romanness, and was attributed in literature exclusively to
the Roman elite.
19
An additional requirement for a loyal and effective army that is
mentioned in the Law of the Twelve Tables is constantia, firmness of purpose and
steadfast loyalty. The related virtue of fides, honest good faith and trustworthiness,
was one of the first personified virtues to whom the Romans directed worship.
According to Livy, (1.21.4), the cult of Fides was founded by Numa in the early
days of Rome.
Early Roman society was patriarchal and the laws demonstrate great respect for
authority. The traditional virtues indicate the status accorded to sober, responsible
heads of families and of the state. Dignitas is the prestige gained by recognition of
worth (Cic. Inv. Rhet.. 2.166) and accrues to those holding high office, exhibiting
noble ideals and patriotism and performing honorable deeds. The closely associated
virtue of gravitas consists of taking important matters seriously and showing
98
constancy of purpose. It is evident in deportment, manner and appearance and may
be coupled with severitas, a sternly moralistic attitude towards life.
Once the Romans emerged as a world power, the qualities necessary for
leadership of state and army received greater attention. Auctoritas was an ancient
Roman concept concerning possession of the ability to inspire confidence in others
in order to accomplish important matters in the civic or military sphere. Auctoritas
resided in experience, prestige and the capability of reaching independent decisions.
Cicero discusses auctoritas (Top. 73) and considers its prime source to be past
services and honors bestowed by the people or senate of Rome.
20
Clementia was a
second virtue that came to the fore during the period of expansion, when it was
considered appropriate for the victorious general, equipped with the auctoritas of
the imperium, to show clemency to his defeated enemies, thus demonstrating
magnitudo animi.
These and related virtues were praised in Latin literature, starting with Ennius
and persisting until the 4
th
century A.D., and were exemplified in attributes and
actions celebrated in commemorative sculpture.
21
From an amalgam of traditional
virtues ascribed to the ancestors and the exempla afforded by the heroes of the
legendary past the Romans constructed a vision of the ideal Roman and leader -
sober, thrifty and industrious. Forthright in manner and in his dealings with his
fellow men, he was assiduous in his practice of the state religion, brave in battle,
imbued with authority by virtue of his experience and the recognition of his worth
and, above all, willing to sacrifice his own interests in favor of the state and people
99
of Rome. The possession of antique virtue and qualities of leadership was
considered an attribute of the upper classes, inherited from illustrious forebears, and
these attributes provided a validation for the hierarchical ranking of society. The
Romans were firm in their belief that success in war and in empire building could
be attributed to the national character and adherence to the virtues prescribed by the
mos maiorum.
22
Possibly the most famous line from Ennius is one quoted by Cicero
in De Re Publica, “On manners and on men of good old time stands firm the Roman
state.”
23
Roman estimates of their national character and the causes of their success
appear to have been accepted and validated by the Greeks. The Greek historian,
Polybius, a client of Aemilius Paullus and a member of the circle of Scipio
Africanus, wrote his history of Rome in Greek. His avowed intention was to
determine reasons why the Romans, in so short a span of time, were able to subdue
nearly the entire inhabited world (1.1.5). Despite his dependent status, Polybius is
regarded as one of the least biased historians of early Roman history. He implicated
the strength of principle demonstrated in the antique virtues of the Republic in both
the subjugation of Italy (3.1.4; 3.2) and success in the Punic Wars (6.56.13-15;
6.57.5-6). Similarly, Posidonius, the Greek historian and philosopher with whom
Cicero studied, upheld the idea of a moderate and virtuous Roman past as a reason
for Roman dominance.
The virtues, characteristics and deportment of ideal leadership were incorporated
into early Roman encomiastic art, as can be seen from the erect, frontal pose and
serious dignity of the extant portrait busts and statues erected in public places and
100
displayed on coins.
24
In the Imperial period, visual narratives in the form of
historical reliefs that were intended for public display not only emphasized the
success of the leader in war and the civic benefits he bestowed on the populace, but
also developed an iconography designed to indicate possession of the antique
virtues that were still considered emblematic of elite status and a validation of the
right to rule.
25
Notwithstanding contemporary ideas on the subject of Roman success, a Roman
characteristic that undoubtedly made an equal or greater contribution to the
establishment of empire was a fierce competitiveness at all levels of Roman society.
Competition was fostered by the combination of strict hierarchy with social
mobility. Slaves could become freedmen, freedmen could acquire wealth, and their
descendants could, and did, attain the higher ranks of society. The equites could be
promoted to the senatorial class and the elite could hope for the highest office. The
possibility of advancing in both rank and privilege spurred the competitive spirit of
the Romans, particularly among the elite, so that Sallust saw the desire for glory and
recognition as the impetus fuelling Roman imperialism (Cat. 7.3-6) and Cicero
considered this desire to be the prime motivating force behind all human activity
(Tusc.1.1.4). According to Cicero, gloria consisted of the praise and recognition of
an individual by the Roman people and was earned for great and meritorious deeds
performed on behalf of the state (Off. 2.9.31). It was similar to honos but differed in
extent. Honos was acquired by living up to the standards of behavior expected of a
man’s status, but gloria required exceptional deeds. Gloria was an immortal
101
heritage and continued after death, since it was reflected on the family and clan of
the hero. Given Roman preoccupation with family and the past, together with the
lack of a strong promise of reward in the afterlife offered by Roman religion, the
concept of memoria, remembrance of honorable deeds after death, became of
almost equal importance to the acquisition of gloria as a spur to performance.
Polybius, describing the Roman funeral oration, said that it included not only praise
of the deceased but also of other deceased members of the family (6.54.1-3). Thus,
the glory of someone who accomplished some splendid thing was immortalized and
the reputation of those who benefited the fatherland was bequeathed to their
descendants, to whom it served as an incitement to acquire similar glory in the
service of the Republic.
For the elite, the means of acquiring glory were primarily through military
campaigns or traversal of the graded ranks of the civic magistracies, the cursus
honorum. Cicero states that young men should seek gloria in war and subsequently
in politics (Off. 2.18.84) and that good leaders serve the Republic in both peace and
war (Off. 2.12.15). Military success was the single most important means of
achieving fame, and military service was a prerequisite for entering the cursus
honorum at the lowest rank. The guiding idea behind the Roman concept of gloria
was that noble deeds should be performed for the good of the state, not for
individual gain. However, Cicero realized that “Where the honor is not public, there
can be no desire for gloria” (Leg. Agr. 2.91). Accordingly, the Romans, who had a
liking for lavish ceremonies, devised a number of ways to reward service to the
102
state. The most noteworthy and the most prized of these rewards was the triumph,
awarded by the senate for notable victories in battle.
26
Other rewards consisted of
appointments to official positions, such as the governorship of a lucrative province
where wealth and status could be achieved, or the voting of commemorative statues
or monuments.
27
It is these monuments that are the major source for continuous
narratives extolling the virtues, accomplishments, successes and benefices of
Roman generals, politicians and emperors.
The quality and decoration of the Roman house was also closely linked with
social standing from the time of the mid-Republic. The increasing opulence of
houses, both in the city and on country estates, was directly contrary to the tenets of
frugality and thrift advocated by the mos maiorum, and was criticized by writers
from Cato to Tacitus
28
. However, Cicero informs us that a house suitable to his
standing is a necessity for a man of rank (Off. 1.138-139), and Tacitus comments
that a man’s reputation depends on both his wealth and his housing (Ann. 3.55). The
assurance of memoria was also dependent, to a degree, on the possession of wealth,
enabling the erection of elaborate tombs that would catch the eye of the passerby in
times to come, reminding him of the achievements of the deceased.
29
Military and political success continued to be the most potent means of defining
and enhancing status throughout the Roman period.
30
However, after the conquest
of Greece and the major centers of Hellenistic culture, the acquisition of Greek
learning came to be considered the mark of a gentleman. The Romans began to
emulate the Greeks in intellectual and aesthetic production, so that eventually the
103
definition of gloria was expanded to include outstanding performance in literature,
history and especially rhetoric. Cicero, a New Man, owed his elevation to the
consulship largely to his rhetorical skills as prosecutor or defender in prominent
court cases.
In summary, competitiveness was a defining characteristic of the inhabitants of
ancient Rome. Hannestad has categorized the Romans as a nation of social climbers
who competed for glory, status, money and influence.
31
Art, especially narrative art,
produced by or for the Romans, reflects this competitive spirit, and was designed to
maintain or enhance status by delineating the achievements of an individual. Since
the greatness of Rome was thought to be based on adherence to traditional virtues,
encomiastic art attributed these virtues to the honoree. After the conquest of Greece
and the acceptance of Greek culture and learning, art also validated elite status by
indicating erudition in the culture and mythology of Greece.
Roman Religion
Two distinct subjects for visual narratives are associated with the gods
celebrated in the official religion of Rome. These aspects of narrative consist of the
rituals of the state religion and mythological stories about the gods. Religious rites
play a prominent role in the encomiastic commemorations of recent events found on
Roman public monuments. The majority of these visual records are entirely
mundane. They focus on the sacrificant and the sacrifice, seldom including either
the cult statue or the god to whom the sacrifice is offered, although these were
customary additions to Greek representations of sacrifice. Narrative art retailing the
104
exploits of the gods and their interactions with humanity was largely confined to the
private sphere, functioning as an element in the decoration of domestic space. It is
evident that the Romans made a distinction between Roman ritual and Greek
mythology, considering the former to serve a serious purpose in the competition for
status and renown, whereas the latter was deemed suitable for the provision of
pleasure and relaxation in a private setting. The contribution of mythology to elite
status resided in an intimation that the owner of a house was educated and
conversant with Greek culture.
The dichotomy between ritual and mythology is a function of how the Romans
viewed their ancient religion. Both Roman and Greek belief systems would hardly
qualify as religions in the modern sense.
32
These systems of religious practice had
no founders, no religious revelations and did not encompass ethical systems that
told people how to behave, except in the context of relationships with the gods and
the performance of religious rites. Both Greek and Roman religions were a form of
bargaining, whereby, in return for praise and sacrifice, protection and specific
benefits were conferred on the petitioner. Roman religion was similar to the
client/patron relationship, the good client offering respect, services and loyalty to
his powerful patron. The frequent appearance of religious rites on commemorative
monuments is related to the virtual monopoly by the upper classes of the rituals that
honored the major gods. Public sacrifices and the organization of religious festivals
were included in the duties of magistrates and generals, and, as remarked upon by
Cicero (Dom. 1.8.2) the worship of the gods and the control of the state were in the
105
hands of the same men. Religious authority was exercised by the priesthood, which
was organized into the priestly colleges, each with its own area of expertise. After
145 B.C. membership in the colleges was decided by popular election, but scrutiny
of the extant lists of priestly candidates indicates that they were limited to the
elite.
33
Religious rites to secure the support of the gods were regarded as essential
to the well being of the state, and the upper classes acted as the intermediaries
between the populace and the gods. The Greek historian, Polybius, (6.56), saw the
assiduous practice of the Roman religion as a source of strength and a means by
which the elite disciplined and controlled the people.
34
The utility of sacrificial
scenes in validating both status and virtue ensured their inclusion on Roman public
monuments. Scrupulous performance of religious duties was an indication of pietas,
and, since the rites of the state religion were the sole prerogative of the upper
classes, being shown as a participant in a public sacrifice was, in itself, testimony to
elite standing.
A subject for scholarly debate has been whether the Roman elite actually
believed in their ancient religion and its accretion of Greek myths or whether the
pietas demonstrated in scenes of sacrifice and in public rhetoric was regarded solely
as a method of retaining the status quo and confirming the hierarchical division of
society. Paul Veyne, discussing the question from both the Greek and the Roman
points of view, states that the validity of religion was based on the traditions of the
past, the testimony of those who deserved respect and had nothing to gain by
lying.
35
The learned, such as Cicero, wavered between belief and disbelief, between
106
rejection of the marvelous and the persuasion of tradition. They were able to
maintain a coexistence of contradictory beliefs, speaking at times as though they
believed and at others as though they did not. For Cicero, the distinction lies
between whether he is speaking as a rhetorician or a philosopher. Veyne does not
think the rhetoric of belief was wholly cynical, the rhetor being half convinced by
his own words. Belief was contextualized, and intellectuals entertained different
beliefs in different situations, in a process Veyne has characterized as “mental
balkanization.”
The reason why mythological references were generally excluded from visual
representations of state religious rites is more complex than the rationale for
inclusion of these rites on public monuments. It involves both the Roman concept of
their own religion and the attitude towards Greek culture that was prevalent at
Rome from the 2
nd
century B.C., since the stories of the gods employed in Roman
poetry and art are almost entirely Greek in origin. It was during this period that the
Romans first began the attempt to reconstruct their own early history, including the
history of religion, which was approached from both an historical and an
antiquarian point of view. According to the Romans, the originator of Roman
religion was Romulus, who built the first temple and instituted the first festival.
36
The major priesthoods were established by Numa, who also devised the first Roman
religious calendar. Livy is the major historical source for early religion. As pointed
out by Mary Beard et al., Livy’s portrayal of religious history is embedded in the
social and political concerns of the late 1
st
century B.C.
37
He presents a picture of
107
the simple, pious rituals of the ancestors, which have degenerated in the present era
as a result of foreign accretions and a lack of assiduous observance. Livy’s account
is obviously attuned to Augustan efforts at religious reform and the revival of
ancient religious practices. The antiquarian scholars, who came into prominence in
the 1
st
century B.C., were also attempting to reconstruct and preserve the ancient
Roman religion, which was seen as superior to its contemporary manifestation.
38
The efforts of some modern scholars have had an aim similar to that of the
antiquarians. They have attempted to reconstruct the earliest Roman religion, prior
to its contamination by foreign elements, using the scanty primary records, together
with writings from the later Republican and Imperial periods. These efforts have
been largely unsuccessful because of the lack of reliable sources. However, study of
the first major gods of the Romans has suggested that they may have lacked marked
personal characteristics prior to their equation with the deities of the Greeks.
39
An
idea that appealed to scholars of the early 20
th
century was that the original Roman
gods were impersonal abstractions and that mythological histories and
anthropomorphic images were entirely the result of later Greek influence. However,
available literary and archaeological evidence indicates that the gods of the Romans
were profoundly influenced by the Greeks from a very early period. Both the
Romans and the Etruscans adopted Greek gods such as Herakles and Apollo and
sought to equate their gods with appropriate figures of the Greek pantheon from at
least the 6
th
century B.C.
40
The earliest terracotta figures of the Roman gods, from
the Forum Boarum, are dated to the late 6
th
century and are in Greek Archaic style.
41
108
There is, however, evidence that the Romans themselves believed their ancient
religion to have been originally devoid of both mythology and images of the gods.
Varro, quoted by Augustine (De civ. D. 4.31) stated that the Romans made no
images of their gods for the first 170 years after the foundation of Rome, and
implied that worship would be more reverent if they had continued to do without
such images.
42
Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Rom. Ant. 2.18-20) commended
Romulus for discarding all the scandalous stories of the gods, indicating that Roman
religion, from its foundation, was thought to be devoid of Greek mythology.
Regardless of whether later Roman ideas on early religious practices have any
historical validity, Roman reconstructions of early religion and Roman respect for
tradition provide an explanation for the exclusion of personified deities from the
visual expression of state religious rites.
Greek myth was never naturalized as part of Roman culture, despite the major
role it played in art and literature.
43
The Greeks tended to assimilate foreign imports
seamlessly, whereas the Romans were careful to retain an awareness that Greek
culture was not native to Rome.
44
For example, cults imported from Greece were
always worshipped according to the “Greek rite,” one aspect of which was that the
head of the sacrificant was not veiled. Myth was absent or marginal in the serious
concerns of Roman society. However, in order to be accepted as part of the
civilized, Hellenized world, Rome was forced to adopt the mythology that was
central to Greek art and literature. Mary Beard considers that the paradox of Roman
culture was its “simultaneous incorporability within Greek norms and its insistent
109
refusal to construct itself in those terms.”
45
As a consequence, myth was
marginalized and relegated in both art and literature to the domain of otium, the
provision of relaxation and pleasure. Compartmentalization of the different modes
of religious thought is clearly defined by Varro (August. De Civ. D. 6.5), who
divided contemplation of the gods into three separate categories. The first division
was Greek mythology, which Varro considered incompatible with the dignity of
immortal beings and suitable only for poetry and the theater. The second division
encompassed the speculations of the philosophers on the nature of the gods, and the
third division comprised the state religion, that which citizens were required to learn
and perform for the good of the state.
Influences on the Style and Content of Roman Narrative Art.
The choice of style for a work of art has obvious relevance for the impact and
understanding of an intended message. Establishing stylistic trends within the genre
of continuous narrative indicates a degree of linkage between the factors governing
stylistic choices and determinants dictating use of the continuous narrative format,
providing information on how the style functioned in Roman narrative art and what
purposes it was intended to serve.
Discussion of style in Roman art is unavoidably set within the context of an
overwhelming influence of Greece on all forms of cultural production, and the
dominant stylistic trends in Roman art are acknowledged to represent adaptations of
various Greek styles. However, the existence of an additional, non-Greek style in
Roman art has been noted since the early part of the 20
th
century. In 1900 A.
110
Furtwängler first proposed the concept of a native Italic style in Roman art,
coexisting with adopted Greek styles.
46
This native style is thought to draw on early
Italic and Etruscan elements, and, in its extreme manifestations, has little to do with
Greek art. It is characterized by figures with disproportionately large heads attached
to stocky or spindly bodies. These figures tend to be stiff, static, angular and
awkward in comparison with the more graceful and naturalistic figures
characteristic of Greek art. Faces are coarse, with prominent features, and draperies
are frequently schematized into a series of parallel straight lines. Further attributes
are a tendency towards frontality and a lack of personalized identity within groups
of figures. From an examination of Roman coinage it is apparent that these figures
represent a survival of early art. The earliest coins, those from the 3
rd
century and
the beginning of the 2
nd
century B.C., were produced in South Italy and show
obvious Greek influences. A head of Jupiter (Fig. 32), struck in South Italy in ca.
269 B.C., may be compared with a head of Minerva (Fig.33), produced in Rome in
about 106 B.C. The reverse of the Minerva coin (Fig. 34) shows a voting scene. The
Figure 32. Drachma, 242
B.C. Head of Jupiter,
British Museum. After
Strong (1976) Fig. 3A.
Figure 33. Victoriatus, 195
B.C. Head of Minerva.
British Museum. After
Strong (1976) Fig. 3O.
Figure 34. Denearius,
106 B.C. Voting Scene.
British (Museum. After
Strong 1976) Fig. 3R.
111
overlarge heads are set on small, angular bodies and the drapery folds are greatly
simplified. The few remains of early Roman bronze and
terracotta statues also show clearly the influence of Etruria. A
small bronze of a togate Roman (Fig. 35) has the Etruscan
characteristic of an overlarge head with pronounced features. The
arms are extended in awkward gestures and the drapery folds are
indicated by rudimentary lines.
47
After the 2
nd
century B.C.
features of early coinage and statuary were retained in provincial
Italian art and the art of middle and lower class Romans. An
early 1
st
century A.D. funeral procession from Amiternum
(Fig.36) exhibits short, dumpy
figures, linear drapery folds and
frontality. It also features unrealistic
use of partial, internal ground lines
in order to accommodate a number
of separate figural groups and activities in the same
picture frame. A representation of a lying in state on the
Tomb of the Haterii in Rome (Fig.37), from the later 1
st
century A.D., retains stocky figures with large heads and
gross features, clothed in simplified draperies.
48
A further
characteristic is a disregard for correct proportions.
The
funeral couch and the reclining figure of the deceased in
Figure 35. Early
Roman Bronze.
British Museum.
After Strong
(1976) Fig. 6.
Figure 36. Funeral Procession. Aquila National
Museum. After Ryberg (1955) Fig. 19b.
Fig. 37. Tomb of the
Haterii, Vatican
Museum. After Strong
(1976) Fig. 77.
112
Fig. 37 are the central focus of the scene. They are shown as disproportionately
large in comparison with mourners above the couch and the very small figures in
the funeral procession below. The procession and the couch are conflated into a
single scene. A suovetaurilia from the Augustan arch at Susa (Fig.38) emphasizes
the lack of correct proportion in provincial art. The sacrificial pig and ram are
almost equal in size to their attendants.
The elements of Greek imitation were much more prominent in elite sculpture
and painting, presumably because wealthy clients were better educated in Greek
culture and were able to afford artists and sculptors trained in admired Greek
techniques. However, certain elite monuments from the late Republican and early to
mid- Imperial periods exhibit the unmistakable characteristics of plebeian art,
frequently juxtaposed with other scenes or decorative elements that are clearly
Greek inspired. An example is the decursio on the Column Base of Antoninus Pius,
from ca. 161 A.D. (Fig.39a). The decursio consisted of a military parade, a
prominent feature of state funerals. On the base seventeen horsemen ride counter-
clockwise around two groups of five legionaries apiece. The two groups stand on
Figure 38. Frieze of the Arch at Susa. After Ryberg (1955) Fig. 52b.
113
separate ground lines, suspended at
center of the scene. The procession
is shown in vertical perspective.
Riders who should be behind the
central groups are shown above
them. Each horse in the upper group
has its front legs in the air and its
hind legs on a small, individual
ground line. The horses of the upper tier are slightly smaller than the lower ones,
representing the only attempt at conventional perspective. The figures of the
soldiers and riders are stocky, with
the large heads of Italo-Etruscan art.
The decursio is coupled on the base
with a representation of the
apotheosis of Antoninus Pius and his
wife, Faustina (Fig 39 b). The style
of this scene is largely Greek
inspired, complete with Greek
symbols of death and apotheosis.
A consistently primitive style is relatively rare on elite monuments of the late
Republican and earlier Imperial periods. The vast majority of Roman visual
narratives dealing with the mythology of Greece or the heroic past of ancient Rome
Figure 39a. Antoninius Pius Base, Decursio.
Vatican Museum. After Brilliant (1974) Fig. VI 37.
Figure 39b. Antoninus Pius Base, Apotheosis.
Vatican Museum. After Brilliant (1974) Fig. VI
38.
114
are inspired by Greek art in both style and composition, and in the genre of
historical narrative some examples owe little to the Italo-Etruscan tradition. Others,
however, exhibit an eclectic mix of Italo-Etruscan and Greek styles, similar to the
mixture of Classicism and Hellenism noted by Tonio Hölscher on Roman
monuments employing adapted Greek styles.
49
Visual accounts showing a high
degree of Italo-Etruscan influence may be paired on the same monument with other
scenes that are wholly Greek in character and style. A well- known example of this
type is found on the so-called Altar of Ahenobarbus, probably dating to ca. 97 B.C.
(see Chapter4). On this monument, which is actually a statue base rather than an
altar, a sea thiasos, featuring the marriage of Neptune and Amphitrite, is paired with
a frieze celebrating the censorship of the sponsor.
50
The thiasos (Fig. 40) is an
excellent example of the Hellenistic Baroque and may have been either
commissioned from an eastern workshop or represent spolia from an eastern
campaign. The census frieze shows the taking of the census on the left, while the
center of the composition is occupied by the sacrifice of the suovetaurilia, offered
by one of the two censors at the close of the term of office (Fig. 41) The paratactic
figures and lack of background owe a debt to Classical reliefs, as does the inclusion
Figure 40. Seathiasos, Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus. Louvre, Paris. After
Kuttner (1993) Fig. 70.
115
of Mars, the god to whom the sacrifice is offered.
51
However, the style of the
carving is dry, and plain, the figures somewhat stocky, awkward and lacking in
grace. The drapery is treated cursorily and the major figures have a marked
tendency to unrealistic frontality. The bovine victim is also of exaggerated size.
The concept of two stylistic trends in Roman art, one Greek and the other non-
Greek, was developed by scholars during the course of the 20
th
century. By 1950
Per Hamburg had discerned two styles on Imperial historical monuments and
dubbed them the”Roman Republican” and “Hellenistic Imperial” styles.
52
He
considered the Republican style to be more factual in tone and the Hellenistic style
more allegorical. Otto Brendel, in his Prolegomena to the Study of Roman Art, was
responsible for recognizing that the two styles were in use in all periods of Roman
art, rather than alternating in different eras as proposed by Gerhard Rodenwaldt.
53
Brendel was also first to propose the concept that choice of style was suited to
choice of subject matter, an idea elaborated further by Hölscher in his examination
of Greek styles in Roman art. Brendel maintained that the Italic style was limited to
historical narratives, whereas the Hellenistic style was favored for Greek mythology
and allegorical narratives. Consequently he named the two modes the “historical”
Figure 41. Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus, Census Frieze. Munich Glyptothek. After
Torelli (1982) Fig. 1.4a-d.
116
and “allegorical” styles respectively, and he also pointed out that historical
narratives were largely restricted to public monuments and allegorical stories to the
private sphere.
A final form of nomenclature for the two styles in Roman art was proposed by
Ranuccio Bianchi-Bandinelli.
54
He considered the existence of Italic and Greek
styles to result from a conflict between lower and upper class taste, and named the
Italic style “plebeian” and the Hellenistic style “patrician.” He located the plebeian
style in public reliefs and paintings dealing with historical and biographical subjects
that were designed to convey information. Greek mythology, on the other hand, was
expressed in either Hellenistic or neo-Classical Greek style.
In the genre of relief sculpture, continuous narratives are distributed in both
Brendel’s “allegorical” and “historical” categories. However, the continuous style is
far more heavily invested in the “historical” stylistic category, and is found
particularly in works that have a high degree of other non-Greek elements, such as
illogical perspective and incongruous proportions of objects and figures. In
domestic painting the continuous narrative style is largely restricted to Third Style
mythological landscape paintings that exemplify the panel type of continuous
narrative format. In addition to the basic illogicality of the style itself, these
paintings display variable perspective and size. Continuous narrative appears to be a
common element in Roman visual narratives where the logic and realism that Peter
von Blanckenhagen considers characteristic of Greek narrative art are sacrificed in
order to emphasize important aspects of the narrative and increase the amount of
117
information that can be conveyed in a limited space.
55
In addition, in historical
narratives it is most frequently associated with Italic elements in style and
composition.
An explanation for the observed dichotomy in use of Greek or Italic styles in
Roman narrative art must be sought in the attitude of the Romans towards imported
Greek culture. Prior to the 6
th
century B.C. the Romans had little art and no
literature. However, the Romans lived in a Hellenized world and archaeological
evidence indicates that the Hellenization of Latium began as early as the 8
th
century
B.C., with the establishment of Greek colonies in southern Italy.
56
By the time of
the Punic Wars, when the Romans emerged from Italy to enter onto the larger world
scene, Greek culture, spread by the conquests of Alexander the Great, dominated
the Mediterranean and Asia Minor. The conquest of these Hellenistic lands placed
the Romans in an anomalous position. It might be expected that, in the process of
acculturation following victory, the culture of the militarily and economically
superior nation would dominate and replace that of the weaker nation. This scenario
is not the invariable result of conquest and the Roman victory over the Hellenistic
East was a reversal of this sequence of events.
57
The ancient and highly developed
culture of Greece overwhelmed that of the more primitive Roman city-state, a
situation acknowledged by the Romans themselves in the words of the poet Horace
(Ep. 2.1.156).
Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit et artes intulit agresti Latio.
118
“ Captive Greece captured the uncivilized victor and carried the arts into rustic
Latium”.
Prior to direct contact with Hellenized nations, the greatest influence on
Roman cultural development had been that of the Etruscans, neighbors, and
overlords of Rome during the 6
th
century B.C. The Etruscans were a seafaring
people with wide trading connections throughout the Mediterranean. By the 6th
century Etruscan art was already showing the influence of Archaic Greek sculpture,
owing to Etruscan trading contacts with the east, so that Roman art, from its earliest
inception, was molded by the art of Greece.
58
Thus the Romans, unlike the Greeks,
were in touch with a highly developed literary and artistic tradition before they had
an opportunity to develop their own indigenous culture.
Ranuccio Bianchi-
Bandinelli explains the eclecticism of the Romans, the borrowings from many styles
and periods of Greek art, as a consequence of having a mature style thrust upon
them before they could advance steadily within their own characteristic mode of
expression.
59
When Rome began its conquest of Greece and its colonies in the late 3
rd
century
B.C., contact with the art of Greece was greatly expanded. Commencing with the
victory of Marcellus over Syracuse in 211 B.C. and continuing until Mummius’
sack of Corinth in 146 B.C., vast quantities of Greek art and artifacts were imported
into Rome in the form of war booty.
60
Accounts of the lavish display of Greek art
and luxury items in triumphs and public arenas are provided by Pliny (HN 8.24.25),
Livy (25.40.1-3) and Plutarch (Marc. 21). After the conquest of Greece was
119
completed, Greek art continued to enter Rome, though in lesser amounts, either by
purchase or by means of the depredations of Roman officials in the provinces.
59
Rome, as a result of military success and the economic benefits of empire, was
flooded with an unbelievable wealth of luxury items, and contact with the luxurious
lifestyles of the Hellenistic kingdoms catered to a Roman liking for grandeur and
display.
62
The spoils of war and opportunities in the provinces and in trade not only
provided opportunities for personal enrichment but also enabled victors to remain in
the public eye by
the donation of Greek art for display in temples and other public buildings, where it
could serve as a lasting memorial to triumph and generosity. Marcellus made
donations of Syracusan paintings and statues in the temples of Rome (Plut.
Marc.21.4), and he also vowed a temple to Virtus that was completed by his son
(Livy, 27.25.7-9; Plut., Marc. 28.1; Val. Max., 1.1.8). Pompey utilized spolia to
construct the first permanent theater in Rome, richly decorated with costly materials
and Hellenistic art (Pliny, HN 7.34). The tradition continued in the Imperial period,
commencing with Augustus’ plan for the beautification of Rome and renovation of
the temples. Succeeding emperors constructed temples and basilicas decorated with
both antique Greek art and contemporary Greco-Roman productions.
63
Display extended into the private sphere with the building of magnificent
houses, both town houses in Rome and villas in the country, and through the
amassing of private collections of Greek art. The inspiration for the expansion of the
120
traditional, simple, Roman atrium house was the luxurious palaces of the Hellenistic
aristocracy, with the addition of columned porticoes, gymnasia, libraries, picture
galleries, reception halls and elaborate bath and bedroom suites.
64
The private
collection of Greek art was also well established by the late Republic, the most
noted collector being Asinius Pollio, who also opened the first public library of
Greek and Latin texts (Pliny, HN 36.33)
The influence of the Greeks on the culture and lifestyle of the Romans was not,
however, limited to promulgation of luxury and appreciation of the value of Greek
art. Poetry, philosophy and rhetoric were also carried back to Rome and served to
transform the intellectual life of the Romans to the same degree as material luxuries
had served to transform their physical lifestyle. The original bearers of Hellenistic
culture were both free-born Greeks and slaves, war booty from the subjugation of
the civilized Greek world. The cultural spoils of war in the 3
rd
and 2
nd
centuries
appear to have found enthusiastic recipients among at least some of the Roman
elite.
65
Literate slaves were imported to teach both Greek and Latin grammar in the
3
rd
century (Suet. Gram.1) and it was at this time that the Hellenistic model of
education in grammar, literature and rhetoric was first adopted at Rome (Plut. Mor.
278E). By the end of the 2
nd
century the majority of the upper classes were fluent in
Greek and Greek teachers of rhetoric and philosophy were flocking to Rome, where
they opened schools and gave public lectures. By the 1
st
century it was customary
for the sons of elite families to complete their educations by studying with Greek
philosophers and rhetoricians, particularly in Rhodes and Athens.
66
121
The acquisition of Greek culture became a method for social differentiation and
the assignment of status and the possession of Greek art a means of establishing
prestige, so that there is little doubt of the high regard in which Greek art and
literature were held by the time of the late Republic.
67
However, Greek cultural and
intellectual pursuits and Hellenistic luxury were, in many respects, the antithesis of
the ideals and precepts of the mos maiorum, the custom of the ancestors, that the
Romans themselves and many of their Greek opponents considered the basis for the
remarkable military successes and world domination achieved by the Roman city-
state. In addition to a luxurious life-style at odds with the ancestral tradition of hard
work, simplicity and thrift, adoption or emulation of Greek poetry and philosophy
threatened Romanitas, the particular combination of ideals and virtues from a
remote agricultural past that constituted the Roman view of their own character.
68
It
appears inevitable that the conflicting claims of ancient ideals and the seduction of
Greek culture and life-style would arouse a profound ambivalence in the Romans
towards the inheritance to which they fell heir through the conquest of the Greek
world.
The attitude of the Romans towards Greek culture follows a pattern that has
been discerned by anthropologist, Michael Taussig.
69
His study of colonial
encounters in the New World led him to propose a process of interaction between
disparate cultures that he has categorized as one of “mimesis and alterity,” each
culture selecting features of the other for either assimilation or disparagement.
Assimilation is regarded as a means of capturing and controlling the power of a
122
strange culture. However, the alien nature of these assimilated features leads to
anxiety and a revulsion of feeling, so that they are again set at a distance and
denigrated. A society oscillates between a concentration on otherness by focusing
on what is different or a concentration on similarities by imitating aspects of the
alien culture in an effort to master and gain control over its alien aspects. The
response of the Romans to Greek culture is, in many respects, an explication of
Taussig’s theories. The pattern predicted by Taussig can be discerned in the
alternation of acceptance and rejection displayed in the Roman response towards the
heritage Greece.
As the conquest of the Hellenistic kingdoms proceeded in the 3
rd
and early 2
nd
centuries, the Romans appear to have initially welcomed Greek luxury and the
intellectual and aesthetic heritage of Greece, regarding these acquisitions as the
legitimate spoils of the victors. However, by the mid-2
nd
century signs of disquiet
were beginning to surface. Polybius was the first to directly attribute moral decline
among the Roman youth to infection by the laxity of Greece, acquired during the
war with Perseus (31.25.4-5). Cato, who set himself up as the epitome of ancient
virtue, was adamant in condemning luxury and the decay of contemporary
morality.
70
Cato evidently distrusted not only Greek luxury but also Greek learning.
He was instrumental in banishing three Greek philosophers who arrived in Rome on
a diplomatic mission in 155 B.C. and remained to give public lectures. Cato gave as
his reason for their expulsion a concern that the youth of Rome might abandon
allegiance to Roman law and tradition under the influence of Greek ideas (Plut. Cat.
123
Mai. 221-5; Plin., HN 7.1.12). In advice to his son Cato criticized the Greeks (Plin.
NH 29.14) and insisted that adoption of Greek learning would cause the Romans to
become corrupt and lose control of their affairs. Yet Cato himself is an example of
the dual process of acceptance and rejection of alien Greek culture. He became
fluent in Greek (Plut. Cat Mai. 2.4) and his own oratory owed much to the Greek
orators Demosthenes and Thucyides (Plut., Cat. Mai. 2.4).Cato was also
instrumental in bringing the poet, Ennius, to Rome, and, in his Origines, he sought a
civilized Greek origin for the Italian towns.
71
He exemplifies a pattern whereby elite
Romans, highly educated in the learning of Greece, embraced Greek culture with
varying degrees of enthusiasm in their private lives, but in their public utterances
denigrated the Greeks as a race and advanced Greek luxury and Greek ideas as the
major reasons for a decay in contemporary morality. Anti-Greek legislation was
most prominent in the 2
nd
century B.C., and, starting in 161 B.C., found expression
in the periodic expulsions of Greek philosophers and rhetors from Rome, together
with the banning of the eastern cultic practices of Bacchus in 186 B.C.
72
The late
Republic, when the fabric of Roman society was repeatedly shaken by political
upheavals, was particularly productive of statements assigning blame to Greek
inspired decadence for the sorry state of Roman affairs, and, in the aftermath of the
early Empire, historians and orators continued to denigrate the effects of Greek
culture on Roman morality and Roman society.
By the mid 1
st
century B.C. a stereotype of the Greek had been established,
firstly as inept in warfare and practical matters (Gell. 13.8.1-5), and secondly as
124
untrustworthy, cowardly, irresponsible and luxury loving (Cic. De Or. 2. 265), the
complete antithesis in character to the traditional, virtuous Roman. It became
customary for those who wished to get ahead as an orator in the law courts or in
politics to deny knowledge of Greek learning or its utility in public life. Marius, for
example, projected the public image of an uneducated rustic, untouched by the
contamination of Greece, who cultivated Roman virtue rather than Hellenistic
erudition. (Sall. Iug. 85.32). Cicero, the most famous of the Republican orators, was
highly educated in Greek rhetoric and philosophy and an avid collector of Greek art,
as is evident from his voluminous correspondence with his friend, Atticus, in
Athens, concerning the acquisition of Greek statuary for the gymnasium of his villa
in Tusculum (Att. 1.1.5; 1.3.2; 1.8.2). However, when acting as prosecutor in the
trial of Verres for pillaging the art works of Sicily, Cicero carefully explained to the
audience (Verr. 2.4.132) how the Greeks delight in these things, so that their loss
was bitter, although to “us Romans” it would seem much less serious, indeed hardly
noteworthy at all.
The historians and commentators of the Empire, from Livy to Tacitus, continued
in the vein first defined by Polybius, lamenting the decline of Roman morality and
tradition under the assault of foreign influence. Livy, (25.40.1-3), while defending
Marcellus’ rights to the spoils of Syracuse, dated Marcellus’ triumph as the starting
point for Roman depravity and decay. Plutarch (Marc. 21) faults Marcellus, firstly,
for leading the statues of the gods like captives in his triumphal procession and
secondly, for introducing the love of luxury to Rome, a city previously uncultured
125
but good at the things that mattered. Pliny (HN. 33.148-50), although he assigns a
section of his treatise to describing the beauties of Greek art, attributes the downfall
of Roman morality to the invasion of foreign opulence following the conquest of
Greece.
Until at least the beginning of the Late Antique period, the reaction of the
Romans to Greek culture was one of profound ambivalence. Reverence and
appreciation of Greek learning is demonstrated by its inclusion in Roman education.
Students were instructed in Greek, learned Homer and the Greek poets by heart and
studied Greek orators and historians.
73
Cultured men possessed libraries of Greek
texts and the houses of the Roman elite were decorated with Greek sculpture and
painting. However, the Greeks were reviled as a nation and, in their public
utterances, the Romans not only denied the utility of Greek learning but even
indicated that it was liable to sap the moral fiber of those who indulged in it.
The Romans were fully aware that their cultural achievements were not de novo
creations but rested firmly on a Hellenistic base. Such a realization may have been a
source for the anxiety and conflict affirmed by Taussig as the basis for denigration
of an alien cultural heritage, as it was contrary to a deep-seated belief in the
superiority of the conquerors over the conquered, a superiority that was the basis for
military success and the favor of the gods. The Romans took great pride in their
military and administrative ability. These attributes were singled out by Cicero as
the greatest achievements of the city-state and the means by which Rome achieved
domination over the terrestrial globe (Mur. 22), and by Livy (praef. 3) as the reason
126
why the Romans held sway over the entire world. Roman rule was conceived as an
aspect of natural law, whereby the strong dominate the weak (Cic. Rep. 3.37). As
the victor over lesser races, the Romans should hold undisputed first place, and they
therefore emphasized those attributes in which they excelled, giving military ability
precedence in importance over learning and culture. In the Aeneid, Anchises makes
a statement that epitomizes the official Roman attitude towards Greek culture
(6.847-53). He says that others may excel in works of marble and bronze, in rhetoric
and science, but the Romans will rule over all nations and their arts will consist of
bringing peace, clemency and the humbling of the proud. The native arts of Rome
were proclaimed as warfare and just government and cultural production was
relegated to the domain of the inferior Hellenistic races. The strong vein of anti-
Greek prejudice among the elite found expression in contempt for Greek military
inability and inefficiency in administration.
The Romans, while categorizing the arts as of lesser importance, were not
content to leave the field to the Greeks. Their approach to Greek art and literature
exemplifies an attempt to gain power and control by imitating those aspects of an
alien culture considered to be most valuable, Roman competitive spirit and sense of
fitness urging them to excel in all aspects of interaction with a conquered race.
Ancient practice ensured that competition took the form of emulation. The classical
idea was that excellence could be achieved by copying the great practitioners of the
past.
74
The first century A.D. rhetorician, Longinus, said that a good imitation is not
a theft (13.2.3-4) and that Greek historians and poets of the past could serve as an
127
inspiration to elevate our thoughts, while Cassius Dio considered that there was no
way to attain first rank other than by competing with those who are first (6. 4.17).
The Romans distinguished three levels of imitation, interpretatio, the exact of
translation of a Greek work, imitatio, a personal interpretation that departs from the
original, and aemulatio, a synthesis with no precise Greek antecedents, partaking of
many styles and models to produce a completely new work.
75
By the late Republic
the Romans had attempted to convince themselves that aemulationes of Greek
models could produce works that equaled or exceeded the Greek originals, at least
in the context of Roman society. Quintilian, writing on the utility of imitation in the
teaching of rhetoric (Inst.10.2.2-8), defends the practice by stating that the conduct
of life is based on doing well what we admire in others. Imitation is not enough. We
have to improve on the past, or we would still be sailing on rafts. Pliny the Younger
(Ep. 7.9) advises honing literary skills by translating Greek into Latin, since
imitation of the best models leads to an aptitude for new composition. A writer may
attempt to improve the passage by translating it into his own words, and may even
outstrip the original. Thus the Roman desire to be second to none resulted in the
claim that they could surpass the Greeks in excellence, even in the lesser field of the
arts.
As conquerors, the Romans undoubtedly considered the possessions of the
Greeks, including their cultural heritage, as a spoil of war that could be legitimately
utilized for private enjoyment or for public display, to enhance Roman civic,
intellectual or religious life. The Greek gods could be co-opted for the protection of
128
the Roman state, Greek art displayed for the enjoyment of the Roman people and
the intellectually inclined could exercise their minds with Greek literature and
philosophy. However, Greek culture was rigidly excluded from negotium, the
conduct of serious business, and relegated to otium, relaxation and pleasure enjoyed
in the time that could be spared from fulfilling duties to the state.
Cicero’s Pro
Archia stresses the utility of Greek poetry in the construction of rhetorical style and
as an after-dinner entertainment, situating it in its proper place as a pleasant
diversion. Paul Zanker has pointed out that there was little Roman subject matter in
the decoration of Roman villas.
76
There were few portraits of great Romans or
legends of the heroic past. Instead, men such as Cicero displayed statues of Greek
poets in the library and copies of Greek athletes in the gymnasium.
Erich Gruen is of the opinion that this compartmentalization of Greek culture
and its exclusion from public affairs was sufficient to allay the fears of the majority
of the Romans concerning the incompatibility of Greek ideas and Roman tradition.
77
He is convinced that Roman intellectuals were comfortable with Greek learning
and, provided it did not interfere with official duties, its pursuit was regarded as not
only permissible but laudable. James Zeitel, however, believes that even Romans
such as Cicero, most comprehensively imbued with the knowledge of Greek
learning, were uncomfortable with their profound Hellenism.
78
Zeitel argues that
Cicero was genuinely distrustful of both Greek learning and the Greeks themselves
and thought that there should be limits on the role of Greek culture in Roman
society. The arguments attributed by Cicero to the orator, Crassus, in the De
129
Oratore (1.22.4), reinforce this view. Crassus proclaims that Greek philosophy is
too idealistic and is incompatible with normal life and Roman civic customs.
Zeitel’s conclusion is that Cicero believed an excessive immersion in Greek
aestheticism and intellectual activity undermined Roman morality and social values.
The continuing attribution of moral decline in the Imperial period to neglect of
ancient tradition and adoption of Greek luxury is probably an indication that this
belief of Cicero’s was shared by many intellectuals throughout the Roman era.
However, the idea of Romanitas and the moral superiority of the Romans over the
decadent east was rooted in the early Republic and the antique virtues were evolved
in the context of a small agrarian community. Undoubtedly these ideals became less
applicable as Rome expanded from an Italic city- state to a cosmopolitan world
empire with power concentrated more and more in a single individual. Roman
conservatism and reverence for the past ensured their survival long after political
and social realities should have decreed their demise. Alain Gowing contends that it
took more than a century to purge the memory of the Republic and its ideals from
the Roman imagination and, indeed, they were never entirely purged.
79
Until the
mid-Imperial period historians, including Livy, Velleius Paterculus and Plutarch,
continued to make Republican virtue the basis for success and Greek decadence the
cause of moral decay. Valerius Maximus, in Facta et dicta memorabilia, and the
younger Seneca, writing on moral questions, deployed Republican examples of
antique virtue to serve as moral exempla and Quintilian advocated their use in
130
rhetoric, affirming that no better teachers on the subject of virtue could be found
than the heroes of the Republic.
Augustus and the Julio-Claudian emperors sought to assert continuity with the
Republic, and the Republican past was viewed as a source for moral examples in
both literature and art. Co-option of Republican virtues to affirm the supremacy of
the emperor commenced with Augustus and continued until Late Antiquity. Horace,
in Ode 1.12, compared Augustus with the ancient Roman kings and heroes, who
served as a standard of moral excellence, and Augustus decorated his forum with
the statues of the summi viri, famous Romans from the history of Republican
Rome.
80
Pliny, in the Panegyricus (13.4-5), performed the same function for Trajan
that Horace had afforded Augustus, defining his good qualities in terms of ancient
virtue and adherence to the traditions of the ancestors, an adherence that validated
his right to rule.
Although, according to Gowing, the Republic had ceased to serve any
ideological political function after the time of Trajan, the ancient Republican virtues
continued to provide a standard for Imperial behavior and a justification for the
assumption of supreme power, in both art and literature.
81
As late as 193 A.D.,
when Septimius Severus included statues of prominent old Romans in the grandiose
funeral procession of his murdered predecessor, Pertinax (Dio Cass. 74.4.1), the art
of the Romans still attributed to their leaders the agrarian virtues of remote
ancestors from the early days of Rome, and, even in Late Antiquity, Ammianus
Marcellinus and Claudian included Republican exempla of virtue in their histories,
131
indicating an inability throughout the period of Roman domination to disengage
from the pre-imperial past. The restriction of native Italic stylistic features in elite
art to public narratives designed to enhance status and reputation serves as an
indication that such features were considered as a reminder of the traditional virtues
and Republican ideals that continued to be honored until Late Antiquity. Their
inclusion on a public monument was designed to encourage attribution of these
antique virtues to the individual in whose honor the monument was erected.
Conclusion
In Roman art the continuous narrative style is concentrated in historical reliefs
and in the mythological landscape paintings of the Third Style, both genres that
developed in directions showing little reliance on models provided by Greek
predecessors. Examples of relief sculpture and painting showing the continuous
narrative style can be correlated with an express intention to enhance the status of
the honoree or sponsor. In historical narratives competition for honor and gloria
was the guiding principle determining content and style, and in domestic painting
the impetus was provided by a desire to appear wealthy and educated in the culture
and heritage of Greece.
A second characteristic of the continuous narrative style was its association with
stylistic features that were decidedly unGreek, such as inconsistencies in size and
perspective and, in the case of historical narratives, strong indications of a
“primitive” Italic style. These non-Greek attributes served as a visual expression of
Roman ambivalence towards the culture of conquered Greece. The Roman attitude
132
towards Greek culture has been characterized as an alternation between mimesis
and rejection. In narrative art a dichotomy was maintained between depicting the
stories of Greek mythology, the principal subject of Greek art and poetry, and
delineating the serious affairs of the Roman state. The latter frequently employed
the native Italic style as an assurance of Romanitas and devotion to traditional
Roman virtue on the part of the sponsor and were exhibited on public monuments
designed to garner praise for honorable deeds. The former were sequestered in the
private domain, where they fulfilled the lesser purpose of relaxation and the
cultivation of intellectual pursuits, and they were usually in some variant of adapted
Greek style.
133
Notes: Chapter 2
1. Leach (2004) 18-53.
2. Holliday (2002) ix-xx.
3. Wallace-Hadrill (1994) 3-4.
4. Hannestad (1988) 13-4.
5. Cornell (1995) 335-6.
6. Treggiari (2003) 139-64. Cicero himself did not have noble forebears to emulate
but hoped for his own deeds to live on and inspire future generations, becoming
himself a noble ancestor.
7. Wallace-Hadrill (1989) 63-87. The extent of a man’s patronage was also
considered a measure of his prestige.
8. Hopkins (1978) 68. Keith Hopkins has assessed the number of slaves as 50% of
the population in the late Republican period. Slavery was an accepted institution
of ancient societies and the Romans adopted the Aristotelian view (Pol. 1.2.) that
certain people were slaves by nature and, as the result of inborn inferiority, were
destined to occupy the lowest rank of civilized society.
9. Tregiarri (1969) 78; Wiedermann (1981) 51. The high rate of Roman
manumission has been attributed to the provision of an incentive for slaves to
work well and remain loyal to their masters, particularly since freedman seemed
content to adopt the ethics and ambitions of mainstream Roman society, thus
maintaining stability in a slave owning culture.
10. Frank (1918) 696; Taylor (1961) 231-5..Estimates of citizens with servile
ancestry in the late Republic and early Empire vary between 75% and 90%.
11. Joshel (1992) 34.
12. Duff (1958) 66-7.
134
13. Edmondson (1996) 69-112; Zanker (1988) 110-1. Hierarchical seating in the
theater and arena became the norm in the Imperial period. Statius describes
segregated seating for women, the plebs, the equites and the senatorial order
(Silv. 1.6. 43-4), and in the new Augustine theater at Pompeii, slaves were
confined to an upper tier. The representation, on coins and public buildings, of
adlocutiones delivered by the Emperor indicates that here, too, the audience was
hierarchically divided, senators and togati in front and commoners to the rear.
14. An exaggerated Roman respect for the traditions of the past was observed by
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who commented on the Romans’ constancy in
observing the rites of the archaic state religion, rites that remained unchanged
for almost a thousand years (Ant. Rom. 2.23.5-6).
15. Cornell (1995) 48-57.
16. See Flower (1996) and Pollini (2007) for Roman reverence for the ancestors and
its role in constructing aristocratic identities.
17. Cornell (1995) 272-88. Only fragments of the original text exist but it has been
largely reconstituted from references in ancient sources.
18. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 23-7.
19. Holliday (2002) 3-4. Pliny (NH 7.130), Livy (1. praef. 11) and Nepos (Han. 1.1)
all praise Roman virtus and consider Roman preeminence to result from the
exclusive possession of this virtue. Cicero attributes success in war to the virtus
of the entire Roman race (Phil. 4.3).
20. Lind (1979) 33-4. There is no Greek precedent for auctoritas, since it is based
on a Roman respect for authority and experience, custom and law.
21. Litchfield (1914) 1-71. Litchfield searched the literature in order to compile a
list of traditional virtues mentioned by ancient authors. The list includes virtus,
aequitas, fides, pietas, severitas, fortitudo, constantia, continentia, pudicitia,
clementia, moderatio, gravitas, dignitas, concordia and comitas.
135
22. Lind (1979) 11-5; Monroe (1901) 329-46. Whether the traditional virtues were
actually prized and practiced in Roman antiquity is a matter for debate. Paul
Lind maintains that the concept of the mos maiorum was a product of patriotism
and Greek philosophy and had little basis in reality. A sentimental and
simplistic view of ancient history produced an exemplum virtutis that was
interpreted as adherence to a moral code. Paul Monroe, however, has pointed
out that inclusion of many traditional virtues in the Law of the Twelve Tables
indicates that such a moral code did indeed exist as early as the 5
th
century
B.C. and that it was a code quite distinct from that fostered by the Greeks.
23. Leigh (2000) 296.
24. Brilliant (1963) 30-1. The “Arringatore,” one of the few extant examples of
mid-Republican portrait sculpture, shows the sponsor with the attributes of high
status, the toga and senatorial shoes, and emphasizes his dignity of posture and
gravity of expression.
25. Ibid. 9.
26. For the origins and development of the Roman triumph, see Versnel (1970) and
Künzl (1988).
27. Beacham (1991) 107-58. Wealth itself was a requirement for the full expression
of elite status. Triumphators were expected to sponsor games and gladiatorial
contests and vied with one another to produce the most costly displays. In the
late Republic the production of games and theatrical events was part of the
duties of the aediles and praetors, the lowest ranks of the cursus honorum. The
cost was inadequately defrayed by the state and in order to produce a show that
redounded to his credit, the sponsor was forced to dip into his own pocket.
Victors who wished to remain in the public eye were also constrained to finance
the erection of public buildings, such as Pompey’s theater, built in 55 B.C. to
provide a permanent reminder of his triumph. Games, festivals and building
projects continued to be sponsored by the emperors in the Imperial period, as a
means of ensuring the loyalty of the people. Livy states (7.2.13) that the
theatrical productions of the early Empire had become so lavish that they were
beyond the means of a wealthy kingdom.
28. See Leach (2004) 56-68 for the rapid increase in the luxurious appointments of
the Roman house during the later Republic.
136
29. Clark (1991) 208-15; Joshel (1992) 124-8. Competition for status and public
recognition was not limited to the upper classes but trickled down to lesser
inhabitants of the Roman cities, particularly the freedmen, some of whom had
the wealth necessary to emulate their betters. Although the erection of
commemorative and triumphal monuments was denied them, grandiose tombs
and houses were within their reach. Petronius’ Cena Trimalchionis, in his
Satyricon, has provided us with a satire describing the vulgarity and ostentation
displayed in the houses and tombs of such freedmen. As a
satire it is undoubtedly exaggerated, but it finds echoes in the lavish decoration
of the House of the Vetii in Pompeii, with its emphasis on money as the basis of
status.
30. In the Imperial period the assumption of military and judicial power by the
princeps undoubtedly curtailed ambition and competition for status among the
elite. However, the letters of Pliny the Younger indicate that the impetus towards
the acquisition of fame persisted. Pliny was proud of his forensic rhetoric, wrote
out and polished his speeches, circulated them to his friends and gave public
readings (Ep. 2.5.1-3; 2.7.12). It is apparent that the offices of the cursus
honorum were still avidly pursued by young men hoping to make their mark in
public life. Pliny expresses great anxiety over the question of whether a young
protégé, Julius Naso, will succeed in the magisterial elections (6.6). A further
letter (6.18), details how the emperor had to enforce the law against bribery and
gifts being offered in election campaigns and discusses the scandalously high
expenditure on such campaigns. Pliny is also convinced that the love that his
wife, Calpurnia, holds for him is based on his aspirations to fame (4.19.6).
31. Hannestad (1988) 13-4.
32. Feeney (1998) 14
33. Beard et al (1998) 99.
34. Foucault (1978). Polybius’ ideas on the sequestration of religious power and
knowledge may be equated with the theories of Michel Foucault, who postulated
that restriction of access to knowledge is a method of elite control.
35. Veyne (1988) 20; 50-7.
36. Beard et. al. (1998) 99.
37. Ibid. 8-9.
137
38. The premiere Roman antiquarian was Marcus Tarentius Varro, (116 B.C-A.D.
27). His major work on Roman religion is lost, but it is extensively quoted by
later, mainly Christian, writers.
39. Cornell (1995) 161.
40. Beard et al. (1998) 10-11.
41. Ibid. 12. The equation of Greek myth with a Roman deity can be assigned to the
early 6
th
century as a result of a discovery in the lowest level of the Roman
Forum. A black-figure pottery shard, showing Hephaestus, has been found in the
shrine of Vulcan, arguing for the equation of the two deities at this early date.
42. Varro’s statement, taken with the Roman chronology for the founding of Rome,
would result in the first images being produced in 583 B.C., a date compatible
with the archaeological data for the first production of terracotta images of the
gods.
43. Feeney (1998) 50-66.
44. Bremmer and Horsfall (1987) It has been suggested that, in Greece, myths were
intended for society at large and were integrated into the culture. At Rome the
myths were limited to a leisure occupation for the elite.
45. Beard (1993) 64.
46. Furtwängler (1900) 289.
47. Brilliant (1974) 224. Richard Brilliant has summarized the characteristics of
early Etruscan sculpture, (500-300 B.C.), illustrated by a terracotta statue of
Apollo from Veio. The figure has an awkward, lurching gait, and the arms are
extended in abrupt, graceless gestures. The features of the overlarge head are
pronounced and the powerful legs heavily muscled. The drapery is arranged in a
“nervous, linear pattern.”
48. Strong (1976) 139. The tomb is extremely crowded, containing numerous scenes
set one above the other or side-by- side, scenes that include several funerals, the
construction of the mausoleum and its finished state
49. Hölscher (2004) 11-15.
50. Kuttner (1993) 98-229. The constitution of this controversial monument will be
discussed further in Chapter 4.
138
51. Ryberg (1955) 122. The god is also distinguished by hierarchical size. He is
taller than the participants in the sacrifice.
52. Hamberg (1945) 46. Hamberg considers that the Republican style was used for a
factual presentation of actual events and the Hellenistic style for allegorical
accounts.
53. Rodenwaldt (1931); Brendel (1979) 104-37. Brendel’s study was first published
in 1955 and reissued in an expanded version in 1979.
54. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 137-8.
55. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81.
56. Cornell (1995) 161. Finds of Greek pottery in the lowest level of the Forum
Boarum indicate that there may have been a Greek settlement in this area in the
8
th
century B.C.
57. Veyne (1988) 1-27.
58. Brilliant (1974) 224-6. Etruscan art had many indigenous features at this period.
The influence of Greece increased in the succeeding centuries, although both
Etruscan and Italian provincial art retained their distinction from the art of
Greece, at least through the 2
nd
century B.C.
59. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) x-xi
60. Pollitt (1988) 155-74; Gruen (1992) 94-130.
61. Gaius Verres, propraetor to the governor of Sicily in 73-70 B.C., was the most
notorious of these plunderers. He was prosecuted before the senate after the
Sicilians complained of his sequestrations, and Cicero, the principle prosecutor,
described the vast extent of the objects he stole (Verr. 2.1.49-51).
62. The extravagance of rulers such as Ptolemy II Philadelphos, whose festival
pavilion, hung with tapestries and decorated with marble statues, gold and silver
furniture and flowers, was described by Athenaeus (196B), served as a model
for the lavish productions of the Romans, both theatrical and triumphal. The
temporary theater erected by the aedile, M. Scaurus, in 58 B.C., was remarkably
similar to that of the Hellenistic monarch (Pliny, NH 36.113-115) and Pliny’s
description of Pompey the Great’s third triumph (NH 37.12-14), its opulence of
gems, gold statuary and furniture, together with a portrait of Pompey executed
solely in pearls, rivals the festival procession of Ptolemy IV Philopater
(Athenaeus 201C).
139
63. Pliny (NH 10.27-29) records that both Augustus and Tiberius employed Greek
art to adorn their forums and decorate temples.
64. Leach (2004) 87-8. Eleanor Leach quotes the villas of Lucullus, military victor
and consul in 74 B.C., as the pinnacle of the Hellenized life style Republican
aristocrats loved to cultivate.
65. Gruen (1992) 229-33.
66. Ogilvie (1980) 120. Cicero went to Athens to study, at the age of twenty two,
and Julius Caesar studied rhetoric at Rhodes.
67. Holliday (2002) 196-201
68. Kurke (2000) 144. As early as the 5
th
century B.C. Herodotus distinguished
between “hard” and “soft” cultures. The hard peoples came from rough country,
were poor, with little refinement, but they enjoyed political freedom. The soft
cultures indulged in luxurious living and were ruled by centralized monarchies.
In war the hard nations conquered the soft peoples. In time, they became soft
and fell prey to the next hard culture. Herodotus’ examples, naturally, were the
Greeks and the Persians, the Persians originally having been “hard” under
Cyrus.
69. Taussig (1993).
70. Astin (1978) 173-4. Astin asserts that Cato, in the surviving speeches, did not
make any direct connection between Greek influence and Roman luxury.
However, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that he regarded the Greeks as
the origin of luxury, particularly when other evidence of his anti-Greek stance
is considered.
71. Leeman (1963) 70. Cato adopted the idea that the original Italian towns were
founded by the Greek heroes of the Trojan War. A more widespread concept,
generally accepted by the time of Augustus, held that the Trojans themselves
were the ancestors of the Romans, a solution that also provided a civilized origin
and insured the acceptance of the Romans as part of the Hellenized world.
72. Beard et al. (1998) 91-6.
73. See Bonner (1977) for the development and content of Roman education.
74. Small (2003) 68.
140
75. See Wünsche (1972) and Ridgway (1984) for the application of the literary
concept of aemulatio to explain eclecticism in Roman art.
76. Zanker (1988) 25.
77. Gruen (1992) 223-71.
78. Zeitel (2003) 120.
79. Gowing (2003) 3-4.
80. Nisbet (1997) 144.
81. Gowing (2003) 121-5.
141
Chapter 3: The Influence of Roman Cultural Production on
Narrative Art.
The following sections consider briefly the role of rhetoric, historiography,
literature and philosophy in Roman society, with a view to discovering how they
may have influenced the construction and content of narrative art.
Rhetoric
Of the various forms of expression inherited from the Greeks, rhetoric was
probably the most pervasive influence on Roman society, and, by the 1
st
century
B.C., rhetorical modes of thought permeated all aspects of Roman culture. Rhetoric
reflected the values of the Romans and is seen as lying at the heart of Roman
literary and artistic forms.
1
Undoubtedly the persuasive use of speech is as old as language itself. Speeches
put into the mouths of characters in the Iliad and a description of the education of
Achilles, designed to make him a “speaker of words and doer of deeds,” indicate the
importance attached to effective use of language by the Greeks as early as the 7
th
century B.C.
2
The Classical Greeks were, however, the first to systematize oral
persuasion, and the formal discipline of rhetoric is supposed to have been initiated
in Sicily about 460 B.C
3
Teachers of rhetoric were established in Athens in the 5
th
century B.C. and schools of rhetoric opened by the 4
th
century. Rhetoric had a
utilitarian use in Athenian society, as it was employed for political speeches in the
Assembly and by both the prosecution and the defense in the courts of law.
A number of treatises and handbooks were written on rhetoric in the 4
th
century,
although only Anaximenes’ Rhetorica ad Alexandrum and Aristotle’s Rhetorica
142
survive.
4
These books laid the basic framework for rhetorical structure and theory
that was adopted by the Romans in the 2
nd
century B.C. Aristotle (Rh. 1.3.1-3)
divided oratory into three classes, according to its purpose. Judicial oratory was
employed in the law courts, deliberative oratory for political speeches and epideictic
oratory, the oratory of praise or blame, was used mainly for funeral orations. This
latter branch of rhetoric was later expanded to include any speech that was not
designed to persuade the audience to a course of action but was intended primarily
to promote the acceptance of a particular system of values.
5
Aristotle also initiated
the three methods of rhetorical proof.
6
Ethos established the good character of the
speaker, so that it would be assumed that he spoke the truth. Logos employed reason
in argument and pathos aroused emotion in the listener. For deliberative oratory
arguments were divided into those urging the utility to the state of a particular
course of action and those that were based on morality and honor.
Schools of rhetoric continued to flourish in the Hellenistic kingdoms, and
rhetoric was introduced as a subject in secondary schools.
7
The only form of post-
secondary education in the ancient world consisted of the schools of rhetoric and
philosophy, and it became customary for elite young men to attend one or other of
these schools, with some attaining a background in both philosophy and rhetoric.
Under the Hellenistic rulers, rhetoric became the elegant accomplishment of a
gentleman and the practice of declaiming on set themes was introduced.
Suetonius (Rhet. 1) says that rhetoric was introduced to Rome in the second half
of the 2
nd
century B.C., in the wake of the conquest of Greece, and it was firmly
143
entrenched by the 1
st
century B.C. Hellenistic education was adopted by the end of
the 2
nd
century, and rhetoric rapidly became influential in Roman society. Cicero
says that the Romans were enthusiastic about learning the art of speaking well (De
Or. 1.14) and the reason for the popularity of this new discipline is not far to seek.
Rhetoric had the same applications in Roman society that it did in Athens, an aspect
that made it more attractive than philosophy to the practical Romans. Deliberative
oratory was employed in the senate and the popular assembly, judicial oratory in the
law courts and epideitic oratory for military speeches, funeral orations and
panegyrics. All three types of oratory were the sole prerogatives of the elite,
rhetorical ability rapidly becoming a mark of education and status and providing an
additional arena for elite competition. Men wanting to make their mark in politics
could catch the attention of the public in the law courts, where trials soon became a
form of popular entertainment, and speeches in the senate and assembly could shape
public policy and opinion.
8
By the time of the late Republic the two great
accomplishments of the elite were to be a first class warrior and a brilliant orator.
9
Oratory held a central place in public life and the goal of the imported Hellenistic
educational system was to produce effective public speakers.
10
The golden age of Roman rhetoric was the 1
st
century B.C., when rhetorical
prowess resulted in the maximum political influence, and the greatest exponent of
the rhetorical art was Marcus Tullius Cicero. Two extant handbooks of Latin
rhetoric date from this period, the anonymous Rhetorica ad Herennium and Cicero’s
youthful effort, the unfinished De Inventione. Cicero wrote numerous additional
144
works on rhetorical theory, including the Partitiones Oratoria, Topica, Brutus,
Orator and De Oratore. The remaining comprehensive treatment of rhetoric is
Quintillian’s Institutio Oratoria, written about 93 A.D. and intended as a systematic
reference for rhetorical education. Similarities between these works indicate that
they were based on the same Greek models.
11
In both Latin and Greek rhetorical treatises the emphasis is on stylistic
practices, and the effect of rhetoric on narrative art is mainly an effect on style.
Cicero (De Or. 3.142-3) defends what could be considered by the Romans to be an
excessive concern with style over subject matter by stating that style was necessary
for expression, even for a wise man, and added grace to wisdom. Four virtues of
style were propounded by Aristotle (Rh. 3.7) and reiterated by Cicero, Quintilian
and others. Style should have clarity, correctness of grammar, suitable
embellishment in order to make the speech memorable and should be appropriate to
the subject matter, the last two requirements being applicable to style in narrative
art. The concept of suiting style to subject matter led to elaboration of the three
major stylistic divisions of rhetoric (Rhet. Herr. 4.11; Cic. De Or. 21.68-9). The
Grand style dealt with weighty or elevated subject matter, was grandiose, elaborate
and emphatic and moved men to action by exciting their emotions ( Demetr. Eloc.
77-8). The Middle style was not employed for serious subjects but was designed to
give pleasure by its elegance and grace (Demetr. Eloc. 146-7). This style was
praised by Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Comp. 21-4) as charming, smooth and
florid. The Plain style used prosaic language and was noticeably lacking in
145
ornamentation. It provided an exact narrative with great detail and completeness, so
as to give an idea of factuality and reality (Demetr. Eloc. 209). The three styles were
correlated by Cicero (De Or. 2.115) with the three functions of the orator, to move,
to charm and to teach, so that not only the subject matter but also the purpose of the
oration was involved in the choice of style.
12
In Quintilian’s opinion the style should
be appropriate to the speaker, the subject, the audience and the purpose of the
speech (Inst. 11.1.4).
Embellishment or ornament in style relied on tropes, figures of speech and
figures of thought to add vividness and interest and contribute to persuasion by
pleasing the audience. A trope was defined by Quintillian as the turning of a single
word from its proper meaning to that of another (Inst. 8.6.1), the most common
trope being metaphor, replacement of a word with another that has some degree of
similarity. Figures of speech were similar to tropes but involved more than a single
word, the simile being the figure of speech corresponding to the trope of metaphor.
Figures of thought included entire paragraphs of colorful digression, designed to
add interest to a speech and provide proof for a specific point the speaker had
made.
13
Figures of thought included descriptio ( ekphrasis in Greek), vivid and
colorful descriptions of scenes as though they appeared before the eyes, and the
interjection of moral maxims, the sententiae or the more extended loci communes,
stories of a moral nature that could function as proofs.
The most commonly
employed figure of thought was the extended comparison, which, according to the
146
Rhetorica ad Herennium (4.45.59), carries over an element of likeness from one
thing to a different thing. The idea of using mythological or
historical examples as a comparison was initiated by Aristotle and endorsed by
Cicero (Inv. Rhet. 1.28.42) and by Quintilian (Inst. 8.3.72-81), who considered an
historic example one of the strongest aids to proof.
14
The 1
st
century B.C. was the period during which the two major stylistic trends
in Roman rhetoric were elaborated, both styles being firmly based on Greek
prototypes. Atticism favored restraint and elegance in speech and gesture and was
modeled on the speeches of the Classical Athenian orators, Lysias, Thucydides and
Xenophon. Adaptations of Hellenistic rhetoric were characterized by an emotional
and highly ornamented style that the Romans dubbed Asianism. The two styles
varied in the degree of public favor they enjoyed at different periods in Roman
rhetorical history. Cicero was inclined towards Asianism in his early career but
adopted a more Attic style in later life, in response to alterations in popular taste.
Asianism was revived in the later Julio- Claudian period, particularly by the
Younger Seneca, and became known as the “New Style.”
In the Imperial period there was an undeniable decline in the opportunities for
rhetoric and in its contribution to political power.
15
Large, public, political trials
gave way to more private Imperial hearings and speeches in the senate deferred to
the will of the princeps. Some criminal and civil cases were still held in public,
although Pliny the Younger (Ep. 6.2.4-10) laments that hours rather than days were
allowed for their presentation and defense. Nevertheless, Pliny took great pride in
147
his forensic orations. He polished them and circulated them to friends (Ep. 2.5.1-3;
2.7.1-7). He described a speech he gave in the circumviral court that drew great
attention and he declared that oratory is still held in honor (Ep. 4.16.1-3). Indeed,
rhetoric played too great a role in Roman cultural life and was too deeply embedded
in the definition of elite standing to be easily abandoned, even when its practical
applications declined in importance. Rhetoric continued to be the backbone of the
Roman educational system, and Maud Gleason has compared public speaking to an
anvil on which young men forged their self-presentation and elite identity.
16
This
identity involved a stereotyped repertoire of gestures, patterns of speech, thought
and movement considered appropriate to high social standing.
A further opportunity for rhetorical competition was provided in the early
Imperial period by the elevation of the school declamation into a public
performance. Declamation was one of the final rhetorical exercises in secondary
education. These practice speeches were divided into two categories. The suasoriae
debated moral, social and scientific questions, such as the obligation of a man to
marry, whether city or country life was preferable, or evidence for the size of the
earth.
17
The controversiae were modeled on actual or fictitious court cases and the
student could speak for either the prosecution or the defense. In the Republican
period, debates of this nature were engaged in by the elite, in private competitions
(Cic. Tusc. 1.4.7). However, in the early Imperial period declamations became
public events, engaged in by professional rhetors and functioning as a popular form
of entertainment.
18
Catering to current taste, the subject matter of declamations
148
became increasingly melodramatic and fabulous. The abstract philosophical and
moral questions of the school suasoriae were transformed into advice offered to
mythological or historical personages in specific circumstances and the
controversiae were converted into an application of the laws to imaginary cases
involving lurid situations, such as capture by pirates, enforced prostitution of high
born maidens, parricide, poisoning and adultery.
19
A number of sources, from the
Younger Seneca (Ep.114) to Tacitus (Dial. 28), indicate that the extravagant Asiatic
style, lurid subject matter and lack of practical application for declamation resulted
in considerable criticism of the genre.
20
However, declamation retained its
popularity with both the populace and the elite until the 3
rd
century A.D., and well-
known declaimers obtained entrée into the highest circles of society.
21
It is apparent that rhetoric retained its prestige and its association with high
status throughout the Roman period. It continued to provide educated personnel for
the Imperial administration and Richard Brilliant has equated learning to speak well
with learning to behave properly in public affairs.
22
The central position occupied
by rhetoric in the education, culture and politics of the Roman state ensured that its
influence extended beyond the immediate concerns of oral persuasion. The clearest,
most readily apparent influence of rhetoric is on literary style.
23
It is acknowledged
by ancient and modern scholarship that a considerable proportion of the literature of
Greece, both prose and poetry, was greatly influenced by rhetorical stylistic criteria,
and this tendency became even more marked in the Roman period. However, it is
only in recent years that the influence of rhetoric on the visual arts has begun to be
149
considered.
Much of Roman art, especially encomiastic narrative art, was intended
to be persuasive, advocating either a system of values or a course of action, and it is
logical to suppose that the rhetorical cast of Roman thought would dictate choice of
content, arrangement and style in accordance with the tenets of rhetorical theory.
24
Public political art in particular, had a close connection with deliberative and
epideictic oratory. Its purpose was to persuade to action or to praise the
accomplishments of an individual. It required a theme or message and images that
illuminated this theme, serving as proofs of its validity. In addition, the images
needed to be arranged in the most effective order for a maximum impact. As in
deliberative oratory, the theme could emphasize either ethos, the morality of an
action, or expediency, its practical advantages to the state. Orator and sculptor had
the endorsement of Aristotle for glossing over historical reality in the encomium,
enhancing noble deeds in order to make the praise more emphatic. Encomiastic
Roman monuments followed the prescription of Aristotle (Rh. 1.9) for the
encomium, the provision of a noble example for others to follow, a prescription
adhered to by Pliny in his Panegyricus (3.18.1-2) addressed to Trajan. His stated
goal was to reinforce the virtues of the emperor with sincere praise and provide an
example for future leaders to emulate.
The use of rhetoric in encomiastic art was associated with the high status
enjoyed by oratory. From the earliest recorded Roman portrait statue of the
Arringatore to the images of late antiquity, the adlocutio, an address to either
civilians or the military, was an accepted symbol of membership in the elite and was
150
used prolifically on coinage, statues in the round and historical reliefs.
25
The
Column of Trajan contains eight addresses to the troops (Fig. 124) and a popular
statue type of Augustus, the Prima Porta type, features a figure in military dress
with the right arm raised in the gesture of those about to engage in formal speech
26
A portrait statue of Titus shows him as a civilian orator and Hadrian addresses the
population of Rome on the Arco di Portogallo, as does Constantine on his Arch.
A further important connection between the art of rhetoric and the visual arts
was the employment of gesture, facial expression and body language. Gesture,
together with the use of the voice, constituted the third task of the orator, pronuntio
or delivery. Both the Romans and the Greeks considered delivery of at least equal
importance to the substance of the speech in successful persuasion.
27
However, only
Quintilian, in Book 11 of his treatise, devotes any great attention to describing the
use of gesture in Roman oratory. The most important function of gesture was to
convey emotion, and specific gestures were used to express specific emotions. An
extremely complex code of standardized gestures had to be mastered by the orator,
gestures involving the entire body but particularly the hands and arms. Quintilian
lists twenty hand gestures, which, with minor alterations in the positions of the
fingers, could express a range of emotions, from wonder and admiration to horror
and fear. The deployment in rhetoric of a formalized system of gesture accustomed
Roman audiences to the use of expressive gestures designed to influence others in
the conduct of public affairs
28
. The symbolic and stadardized nature of rhetorical
gesture encouraged the establishment of conventions of gesture in Roman art that
151
were understood by Roman audiences, and public art formulated a programmatic
iconography of motifs and gestures that was designed to exalt the individual and his
deeds. By the late empire this visual rhetoric no longer depended on historical fact
but on a standardized and complex imagery emblematic of elite status and
accomplishment.
Although rhetoric undoubtedly influenced both the structure and content of
narrative art throughout the Roman period and a man who wished to assert high
status continued to adopt the persona of the orator in commemorative art, the
greatest interaction between art and rhetoric was in the area of style. Both Roman
rhetoric and Roman art were molded by the culture of Greece. By the 1
st
century
B.C. the entire range of Greek production was available for emulation and
adaptation, from the speeches in Homer and Archaic sculpture to the products of the
late Hellenistic courts and workshops. The division of rhetorical style into the two
broad categories of Atticism and Asianism is reflected in the influence on Roman
art of artistic styles from the Classical and Hellenistic eras respectively. The calm
gravity and dignity of early and high Classical statues may be equated with the
restraint and elegance of the Attic style and the florid exuberance of the Hellenistic
style with the emotional Asiatic style. Choice of style for a specific speech was
governed partly by the varying popularity of the two styles in a particular era and
partly by individual preference, the Attic style appealing to the Roman desire for
dignity, clarity and directness and the Asian style to the equally Roman taste for
extravagance and display.
29
Gregory Aldrete has noted the constant tension in
152
Roman rhetoric between appealing to the emotions of an audience and maintaining
the dignity befitting a member of the Roman artistocracy.
30
This ambivalence
resulted in the same eclectic mixture of styles that is a leading characteristic of
Roman art. Notwithstanding fluctuations in popular taste, both styles of rhetoric
were simultaneously in use in all eras of Roman rhetoric, the same orator employing
Asian or Attic styles at different periods of his career and also for different speeches
delivered during the same period.
31
The concept that style should be chosen to suit
the subject matter was first propounded by Aristotle (Rh. 3.1) and extended in Latin
rhetorical treatises from the Rhetorica ad Herennium to Quintilian. Cicero, for
example, (Brut. 95) considered that the Asian style was unsuitable for the gravity
and dignity demanded in official orations, a view supported by Dionysius of
Halicarnassus in the Imperial period. The net conclusion of Roman discussions on
style was that it should be adjusted to suit different audiences, different speakers,
different subjects and different circumstance.
Roman determinations on style and subject matter, together with the array of
Greek examples simultaneously available to the Roman orator, provide an
explanation for the eclecticism inherent in rhetoric of the Roman era. A similar
explanation has been proposed to account for the synchronic employment of
diachronically developed Greek styles that characterizes Roman art.
32
Tonio
Hölscher has studied examples of both relief sculpture and sculpture in the round
and discovered that, although either the Classical or Hellenistic styles enjoyed
increased popularity in a particular era and there was a diachronic progression in the
153
way marble was worked, the entire range of Greek art was imitated to a greater or
lesser degree in all periods of Roman art.
33
In narrative relief sculpture Classical and
Hellenistic styles are frequently found on the same monument. Hölscher references
Classical influences on the major frieze of the Ara Pacis and compares the frieze
with the Hellenistically inspired panel reliefs.
34
However, close analysis reveals that
even within the same scene different figures or groups of figures follow different
Greek stylistic models. In the panel scene of sacrifice, the head of Aeneas is in high
Classical style, whereas the sacrificial attendants and landscape setting are derived
from Hellenistic examples. Hölscher concludes that choice of style was ultimately
dictated by subject matter.
35
The Classical style was employed for prestigious
themes, deities, heroes and state ceremonies, and the Hellenistic style for lesser
figures and scenes with high emotional content, such as battles. According to
Hölscher, the process of assigning different styles to different subjects elevated art
to the level of providing ethical models rather than being restricted to the enjoyment
of sensual impressions. A coincidence of ideas on style in art and rhetoric, is
provided by Roman use of examples from Greek sculpture to illustrate the
importance of subject matter on choice of appropriate style in rhetoric. For example,
Quintilan (Inst. 12.10.7) praised Pheidias for grandeur, majesty and supreme beauty
and considered his style particularly suited to portraying the gods. Polykleitos was
ideal for young athletes and heroes and Lysippos and Praxiteles were valued for
realism (Inst. 12.10.9). Each artist was considered to possess particular stylistic
qualities appropriate for specific themes. Eclecticism in rhetorical style was
154
illustrated and defended in the Rhetorica ad Herennium ( 4.6.9) by reference to an
anecdote in which Lysippos showed Chares a head by Myron, a torso by Polykleitos
and arms by Praxiteles as models to follow.
An additional intersection between style in art and rhetoric is provided by the
contest between the young Octavian and Mark Antony.
36
Both leaders identified
themselves with gods, Anthony with Dionysus, the
bringer of joy and plenty, and Octavian with Apollo, a
symbol of dignity and morality opposed to Antony’s
Hellenistic decadence. The attributes of Classical
dignity and Hellenistic opulence were reflected in rival
imagery on coins issued by the two enemies The head
of Octavian on a coin produced before 31 B.C. (Fig. 42)
is restrained and idealized, the delicate, classicizing
features forming a contrast to the gross features and
Baroque realism of Antony’s portrait (Fig. 43).
Suetonius informs us that the rhetorical style of the
rivals was also in keeping with their adopted persona
and choice of artistic style, Octavian favoring an
elegant and restrained speech, (Aug. 79), and Antony a
florid, Asian style (Aug. 86).
A second classification of rhetorical style that resonates with stylistic choices in
narrative art was the division into plain, middle and grand styles. This division was
Figure 42. Denarius, 31
B.C. Head of Octavian.
British Museum. After
Zanker (1990) Fig. 41.
Figure 43. Tetradrachm, 39
B.C. Head of Marc
Anthony. British Museum.
After Sutherland (1974)
Fig. 172.
155
more clearly based on subject matter than the choice of Attic or Asian styles, the
unornamented, direct, plain style being used for didactic subjects, the middle style
for orations designed to please and the grand style for solemn and important
subjects. Cicero (Brut. 74) considered that the three styles could be combined in the
same speech, according to variations in the subject matter. All three styles had
Greek antecedents. However, the plain style was regarded as most Roman in spirit,
its simplicity and directness being equated with Romanitas. It was the style of the
“Old Roman,” Cato the Elder, and continued to be affected by those who wished to
underline devotion to ancient virtue and tradition, with the idea that plainness and
rusticity guaranteed honesty.
37
Crassus, in De Oratore, criticized Cotta for affecting
a country accent, thinking that rustic speech would make him appear more
venerable and believable, and Marius, in his rhetoric, projected the image of an
uneducated rustic who honored Roman tradition rather than Hellenistic refinement
(Sall. Iug. 85. 32).
The existence of a second stylistic trend in Roman art, in addition to the use of
adapted Greek styles, has been noted in Chapter 2. A style with marked Italo-
Etruscan elements was employed for non-elite and provincial art in the late
Republican and Imperial periods and makes an appearance on certain elite
monuments of the same date. The Italo-Etruscan style is limited, in elite narrative
art, to encomiastic historical monuments, and it was proposed that its inclusion on
these elite monuments was intended to imply a devotion to Republican ideals and
Romanitas on the part of the honoree. It has been suggested that the census frieze on
156
the “Altar of Ahenobarbus,” which displays elements of Italo-Etyruscan style, may
be equated with the plain style in rhetoric, whereas the decorative Hellenistic
thiasos on the same monument conforms to the middle style.
38
This suggestion
points the way to a possible connection between choice of style in Roman rhetoric
and Roman art. The primary use of the plain style in rhetoric was in treatises
designed for didactic rather than political or forensic purposes. Some examples of
the Italo-Etruscan style fulfill the same function. Two important historical
monuments combine panels in Greek style
with minor friezes that have obvious Italo-
Etruscan elements. The Arch of Titus (Fig.
44) and Trajan’s Arch at Beneventum (Fig
45) both display panels celebrating the
deeds and successes of the emperor in
adaptations of mainly Greek style. In
addition, minor friezes describing triumphal
processions encircle the monuments and are
designed to supply details about the
sequence, route and composition of the
processions, together with descriptions of the captives and booty. Although the
minor friezes do have an encomiastic purpose, as they display the great extent of the
processions, the richness of the booty or the large number of captives, their
emphasis is on providing information. The anonymous figures on the minor friezes
Figure 44. Frieze, Arch of Titus, Rome.
After Ryberg (1955) Fig. 82c.
Figure 45. Frieze, Arch of Trajan,
Beneventum. After Ryberg (1955) Fig.
82.
157
are squat and large-headed, drapery treatment is perfunctory and inappropriate
frontality is a frequent feature, leading Inez Scott Ryberg to characterize these
friezes as close to popular art.
39
An additional use of the plain style in rhetoric was its deployment in order to
create an impression of sincerity and honesty, in an endeavor to persuade the
audience of the speaker’s adherence to ancient tradition and virtue. In art, mistrust
of Greek culture and the lingering survival of Republican egalitarianism ensured the
inclusion of native Italo-Etruscan elements in commemorative portraiture and
historical visual narratives of both the Republican and Imperial periods. As in
rhetoric, adoption of a plain, unvarnished style was intended to distance the sponsor
from Greek decadence by equating primitive artistic conventions with primitive
virtue.
The second style favored by Roman orators was the grand style, rich in both
emotion and ornamentation, and employed for weighty and serious subjects, such as
the panegyric. The earliest examples of Roman encomiastic art provide evidence of
a similar dualism between the plain and factual and the Hellenistic grand style. The
honorific statue of a Roman general (Fig. 46.) produced about 150 B.C., may be
compared with the Arringatore, (Fig. 47) the sedate togate orator from 50 B.C.
40
The statue of the general is modeled on the portraits of Hellenistic rulers and
celebrates superhuman strength and power, borrowing pose and nudity from Greek
statues of gods and heroes. The statue of the orator, on the other hand, emphasizes
simplicity and honorable verisimilitude in keeping with Roman tradition. These two
158
stylistic trends continued to exist on Roman encomiastic monuments, at least until
the 3
rd
century A.D., and choice of a particular style was predicated not only on
subject matter but also on message, the image that the sponsor wished to project for
reception by his audience. He could choose to portray himself as the semi-divine
favorite of the gods or lay claim to ancient Republican virtues as an embodiment of
Romanitas and tradition.
The allegorical grand style, wholly Greek in character, was favored for
narratives of the ancient past, either legends of the Greek heroes or Rome’s own
distant history. The middle style, characterized by charm and grace, was the
principle style employed by the Romans in both rhetoric and art for recounting the
stories of Greek mythology. These narratives, found mainly in the private sphere,
were executed, almost without exception, in decorative Greek styles. The attitude of
the Romans towards Greek mythology ensured that the middle style, designated
solely for pleasure and entertainment, would be deemed most appropriate for
Figure 46. Roman
General. Rome National
Museum After Stewart
(1990) Fig. 862.
Figure 47.
Arringatore (Orator)
Florence National
Museum After Zanker
(1990) Fig. 4.
159
relating the adventures and misadventures of the Greek gods. From their earliest
inception, statues of the gods decorating temples were in Greek style.
41
In summary, approximate equivalents of rhetorical stylistic categories may be
recognized in Roman narrative art. Italo-Etruscan elements and a factual,
unornamented style may be equated with the plain style in rhetoric. The plain style
in narrative art was limited to the portrayal of recent historical and biographical
events, and choice of the plain style was dictated by a desire to profess Romanitas
and the possession of antique virtue. An alternative choice for historical narration
was the grand style, derived from art of the Hellenistic ruler cults. This style,
employed for statues of Greek gods and heroes, conferred a superhuman gloss on
achievement, reflecting the divine favor accorded to the rulers of the Hellenistic
monarchies. Greek styles were also favored for narratives of Rome’s semi-
legendary past, the choice being motivated by a desire to valorized the actions of
ancient Roman heroes by emphasizing their equivalence to the admired Homeric
heroes of Greece. An artistic equivalent of the rhetorical middle style, designed for
enjoyment and decorative qualities, was most frequently chosen for recounting the
stories of Greek mythology, and Italo-Etruscan elements were usually excluded
from such stories. The Romans employed continuous narrative in all stylistic
categories. However, it is most prominent in narrative displaying non-Greek
stylistic elements, such as historical encomiums with a high content of Italo-
Etruscan style. Continuous narration is also associated particularly with the Roman
innovation of extensive landscape background and the deliberate inconsistencies in
160
size and perpective that were introduced into elite art in the Second and Third Style
mythological paintings on the walls of Roman houses.
It must be emphasized that recognition of two distinct influences on the style of
Roman narrative art does not necessarily permit the assignment of specific works of
art to one or other of two mutually exclusive categories. As Hölscher discovered in
his study of Greek styles in Roman art, many Roman visual narratives contain
elements of both Italic and Greek stylistic trends. For example, in the relief of a
Hadrianic adlocutio from the Arco di Portogallo, the major influence is Greek
classicism. However, the deliberately out-of -proportion temple façade in the
background is wholly Roman in inspiration.
History
The Roman practice of utilizing visual records of events from the recent past as a
means to further the political career of an individual or glorify his memory
evidently preceded the production of written accounts serving the same purpose.
The earliest “historical” paintings on the walls of public buildings or tombs date to
the 4
th
century B.C., whereas Roman historiography did not emerge until the late 3
rd
century B.C. However, Roman ideas on how to write history undoubtedly exerted
an influence on later visual narratives that concern the historic past.
Continuous narrative is prominent in two types of visual records, encomiastic
accounts of individual performance in war or the civic duties of the state and
excerpts from the early history of Rome. The latter are derived, ultimately, from
literary or historical sources, such as Ennius’ Annales or the histories of Livy, and
161
the former owe a debt to histories of more recent events that were produced from
the 2
nd
century B.C. until the end of the Imperial period.
The Roman concept of historiography is firmly rooted in Greek ideas and Greek
precedents exist for the majority of its characteristic features and modes of
expression. The earliest written historical records of the Greeks consisted of the
annals produced by the city-states, year by year enumerations of important
happenings within the city and its environs that were maintained for official
purposes.
42
The first true history, encompassing more than a bald tabulation of
sequential events, was Herodotus’ account of the Persian War, written in the mid
5th century B.C. The stated purpose of Greek historiography was to record the
memorable deeds of men. In his preface Herodotus declares that his aim is to
preserve glorious deeds that should not be forgotten and to investigate the causes for
the actions of men
43
His successor, Thucydides, retained the idea that
historiography consisted of recording the memorable deeds of men (3.90.1), a
concept endorsed by Aristotle, who defined history as the investigations of those
who write about deeds (Rh. 1.1360A). Thucydides’ record of the Peloponnesian
War initiated the genre of political history, concentrating on war and political
relations between states, with little intrusion of social, cultural or economic
policies.
44
Thucydides was also the first to proclaim that the primary function of
history was to tell the truth (38. 4. 7-8) without editorial bias, and he ascribed a
utilitarian purpose to history, as actions and their outcomes in the past may act as a
guide for the future. However, despite their practical applications, the early Greek
162
historians did not consign histories to the category of didactic treatises, considering
them to be primarily literary works. As a result, ideas on rhetorical style were
applied to historiography and Thucydides initiated the practice of inventing
speeches for his characters.
45
Under the Hellenistic rulers history became increasingly rhetorical and dramatic,
designed to charm and divert, and Hellenistic historians were intent on arousing
emotion in their readers. Scenes such as battles and sieges concentrated on the terror
and desperation of the losers, evoking the emotions of fear and pity that Aristotle
described specifically as the attributes of tragedy. Hellenistic history had, in
addition, an increased tendency to moralize, passing judgment on actions with the
intent of inspiring emulation or avoidance.
46
After the conquests of Alexander the
Great a greater emphasis was placed on the role of the individual leader in
determining events, and the histories of the Hellenistic kingdoms tended to be
encomiastic.
47
The idea of writing history, particularly political history, appealed to the
traditionalist Romans, who took great pride in their ancestry and their past successes
in war. Consequently, historiography was one of the first literary endeavors
undertaken by the Roman elite and it remained an elite occupation throughout the
Roman period, employing the tools of rhetoric to present the past so that it reflected
the ideology and interests of the upper classes.
48
Polybius first prescribed the
necessity of having both political and military experience for effective
163
historiography (12.25) and it was common for retired generals and senators to
continue their service to the state by writing history.
The first of these retired statesmen was the senator, Fabius Pictor. His history of
Rome, from its foundation to the present, concentrated on the Punic Wars. Only
fragments survive, but literary references indicate that his work set the tone for early
histories. His Annales was an annalistic account of Rome’s greatness, intensely
patriotic and biased in favor of Rome (Polyb.1.14) and sought to place Rome on an
equal footing with the Hellenistic kingdoms by providing a civilized origin for the
state.
49
Fabius Pictor was followed in the 2
nd
century by a number of historians in the
annalistic tradition, including Calpurnius Piso and Cassius Hemina, and in the 1
st
century by the later annalists, Antias, Quadrigarius and Macer. No works of the
annalists survive, but the 1
st
century proponents of annalistic history are assumed to
be sources for the later Imperial historians.
50
The most important primary source for
early history consisted of the Annales Maximi, a digest of the tabulae pontificis
gathered in the 2
nd
century B.C. The tabulae were accounts, produced by the
pontifex maximus, that recorded major events of the year.
51
Other sources were the
libri lintei, the lists of magistracies, and private family records.
52
Polybius, writing in the second quarter of the 2
nd
century, introduced the ideas
of Thucydides to Rome. A major purpose of his history of Rome, covering the years
between 284 B.C and 146 B.C., was to determine the causes for Roman success
(3.32). He also endorsed the Aristotelian concept of useful history, proposing that
164
historical accounts provide an exemplum for military and political life, attained by
studying the vicissitudes of the past. He agreed with Thucydides that history should,
above all else, tell the truth, even rejecting the use of rhetorical devices such as
speeches, unless they represented the actual words spoken at the time (5.12.25).
Polybius adopted the Hellenistic view that the virtues and vices of the leader are of
prime importance to the outcome of a war, and attributed Roman success to the
upright moral character of the Roman leaders.
53
He was responsible for introducing
the idea that proved so persistent in Roman histories, namely that a lapse in present
day morality was the result of contact with Greek decadence and luxury.
The tradition of Thucydides was continued in the 1
st
century B.C. by Sallust,
who, on retirement from civic and military duties, wrote moralizing history based
on the theme that a decline from ancient glory could be attributed to the debilitating
effects of Greek culture.
54
It was also during the 1
st
century B.C. that a new form of
Roman historiography made its appearance, the biography or autobiography, which
bears a direct relationship to encomiastic visual accounts, as it is designed to
explain, justify or glorify the actions of a military leader or politician.
55
The use of
historiography to further political careers was apparently widespread in both the late
Republican and Imperial periods. In a letter addressed to Luceius (Fam. 5.12),
Cicero attempted to persuade the historian to immortalize his handling of the
Catiline affair. The letter illustrates Cicero’s contention that the encomiastic
monograph differs from history (Brut. 61). The author is permitted a departure from
the strictest adherence to truth, a departure that results from an exaggeration of the
165
good qualities and actions of the biographical subject. Cicero urged Luceius to
neglect the laws of history and embellish his deeds more than they perhaps
deserved. In the Imperial period Pliny addressed a similar request to Tacitus (Ep.
7.3.3) asking him to include in his history a very flattering account of Pliny’s
forensic triumph, achieved in the prosecution of the governor of Baetica.
An example of a self-serving autobiography is provided by Julius Ceasar’s
commentary on his actions in the Gallic Wars. The account is probably modeled on
the traditional style and format for a general’s report to the senate.
56
The precision,
clarity and unembellished brevity of the monograph lend verisimilitude to Caesar’s
account as an unvarnished record of fact. Nevertheless, it represents a rhetoric of
praise, because Caesar did win his war and his activities and decisions are shown as
the major reason for this victory. In the Imperial period the encomiastic account of
the emperor’s deeds and character became a standard feature of both
commemorative monuments and autobiographies such as Augustus’ Res Gestae.
Fulsome appreciation of the emperor’s achievements was also a feature of the
panegyric, exemplified by an address delivered to Trajan by Pliny the Younger.
Praise for Trajan elevated him above his subjects but also indicated that an emperor
is required to have moral qualifications in order to be first among the citizens of
Rome.
Titus Livius was the first Imperial historian of note. Livy, one of the few
professional Roman historians, came to Rome from Transpadine Gaul. His Ab Urbe
Condita consisted of one hundred and forty six books and took forty years to
166
complete. Only thirty six books survive, those covering the period up to 146 B.C.
Livy’s patriotic purpose was to give Rome a history worthy of her greatness (Praef.
1. 9-12). He indicated his belief that this greatness was the result of adherence to
the standards of the mos maiorum and that contemporary moral decline was due to
contact with imported foreign mores and luxury. He reiterated the utility of history
as an indication of what to imitate and what to avoid in order to benefit the state,
and he continued the tradition of concentrating on the actions of individual leaders.
The success of Livy’s history was, in large part, due to his ability for vivid
description of both scenes and people. He wrote in a time of hope and renewal and
catered to Roman patriotism by portraying the city as divinely guided to establish
the Pax Romana under Augustus. His emphasis on religious piety and Republican
morality may have been influenced by Augustus’ program to revive ancient
monuments and religious customs and to rebuild Rome on a moral basis.
57
In the later Imperial period the writing of history suffered from severe
constraints, owing to the overwhelming influence of the emperor on political life
and expression. Instead of being a record of the deeds of great men, history became
an account of the achievements of the emperor. Both Pliny ( Ep. 5.8.12-14), writing
at the end of the 1
st
century A.D., and Ammianus Marcellinus (26. 1.1), writing in
the 4
th
century, mention the dangers of dealing with current affairs because of the
possibility of making enemies or incurring the censure of the emperor. Even
accounts of the more distant past had to consider the sensibilities of those in power
and avoid any appearance of criticizing the principles of imperial rule.
167
Historiography tended to either concentrate on the antique period or adopt a
sycophantic attitude designed to please the princeps. For example, Dionysius of
Halicarnassus, writing in the Augustan era, confined his Antiquitates Romanae to
the period before the Punic Wars and Velleius Paterculus adjusted his digest of
Roman history to please Tiberius. An exception to this sycophantic history can be
found in the works of Tacitus. Written in the time of the “good emperors,” Nerva
and Trajan, his account of the Julio-Claudians after Augustus (the Annales) and of
the preceding Flavian dynasty (the Historiae) is highly critical. He states (Hist. 1.1)
that objective history again became possible under Trajan. Tacitus’ account of
dynastic history is bitter and disillusioned, a bleak and cynical view of the first
decades of imperial rule.
58
It does, however, retain the aim of being useful by
providing an opportunity for learning from the past.
This brief survey of Roman historiography indicates that Roman histories and
visual accounts of the past had certain characteristics in common, many of which
were inherited from Greek predecessors. The Romans agreed with Herodotus and
Aristotle that the task of the historian was to narrate the deeds of men (Quint. Inst.
2.4.2). The most important of these deeds was the waging of war. Polybius, for
example, omitted Egyptian history from his account because the Ptolemies achieved
nothing of note, being involved in no wars and engaging in no battles on land or sea,
and Statius described the subject matter of history as armed conflicts and
distinguished deeds of men on fields that were pouring with blood (Silv. 1.2.96).
The Romans retained the Hellenistic concept that history is caused by the actions of
168
leaders and heroes. Livy (20.22.14) postulated that great heroes symbolize the
qualities that made Rome great and their individual actions and virtues are the
reason for Roman supremacy.
59
These ideas held in common between
historiography and commemorative art provide a justification for concentrating in
visual narratives on the activities of a leader and on successful wars, implying that
victory was, in large part, attributable to the efforts of a single, exceptional man.
Both the Romans and the Greeks agreed that history should tell the truth.
Thucydides (38.4.7-8) was first to proclaim that the aim of history was to give an
accurate account of the past, and this view was endorsed by both Cicero (De Or.
11.62) and Lucian (Hist. conscr. 39). However, Peter Holliday has characterized
Roman history as partaking more of the nature of rhetoric than of unbiased truth.
60
As an elite production, Roman history was designed to persuade and influence
public opinion in accordance with the ideals and interests of the upper classes, using
the tools of rhetorical persuasion. The first purpose of Roman historians,
particularly those who recorded the early years, was to glorify the Roman past and
persuade the audience of Roman suitability for world leadership. Patriotism and
pride would inspire Romans of the present day to offer their support to the state and
to fulfill their civic and military obligations. The Roman record of success and
moral rectitude was also designed to impress the Greeks and other conquered
nations. Livy’s glorifying history, for example, depicted the Romans as a master
race, morally superior to other nations and divinely chosen to rule the world (1.4.1).
Roman history was, from the very beginning, envisioned as a didactic instrument,
169
fulfilling the purpose of moral instruction. In Late Antiquity, Ansellius (Fr. 2) saw
history as more than a day-to-day record of events. It should make the reader eager
to defend his country and slow to do wrong. It was hoped that the example of
famous ancestors would inspire modern Romans to emulate their virtues, providing
an antidote to the perceived decadence resulting from contact with the Greeks and
other foreigners (Livy praef. 3; Dion. Hal. 1.6.4). In addition, history could serve
the utilitarian purpose of providing future leaders with lessons from the past,
identifying what should be emulated and what avoided (Polyb. 3.31; Livy
praef.1.10-11; Tac. Ann. 3.65). Visual records of the semi-legendary history of
Rome, set up in public places, fulfilled the same purpose as the written histories,
asserting Roman moral superiority and inspiring pride and emulation. Private use of
legendary history in tombs represented a statement of solidarity with ancient virtues
and a possible implication of elite status, with ancestors dating back to the early
days of Rome. A final elite purpose was served by the historical autobiography or
biography, monographs concerning the deeds of an individual that were usually
encomiastic in nature. These biographies represented personal advertisements and
justifications for the actions of a military or political leader. They provided a written
parallel for encomiastic monuments designed to promote the career of an individual,
having the same intent of demonstrating both virtue and success. A visual record
would ensure a more effective means of public display, available to the lower
classes and to foreigners who did not read Latin.
170
The Romans produced both verbal and visual rhetorical history whose purpose
was to persuade to either a course of action or a particular ethical view of past
events. Cicero (De Or. 2.36) considered that historiography was a task for the
orator. It required elegance of style as it treated grave subject matter. It was
intended to persuade the populace, ensure blame for the guilty and defend the
innocent. It also provided praise for inspired leadership and moral rectitude, thus
partaking of the qualities of deliberative, judicial and epideitic oratory. Historians
tended to be judged on the quality of the speeches in their works and these speeches
followed the divisions of rhetoric.
Examples of all three styles of rhetoric are to be found in Roman historiography.
Some historians, such as Polybius, adopted the heavy, elaborate language of
Hellenistic court rhetoric.
61
According to literary accounts of their work, some early
annalists, possibly influenced by the dry, factual nature of their sources, adopted a
plain, unvarnished and archaic style. Thereafter, historians such as Sallust, Julius
Caesar and Tacitus, who insisted on the unbiased nature of their reports, indulged in
deliberate archaisms or a plain style as evidence of honesty and impartiality. The
Hellenistic idea that history could be read to provide entertainment resulted in the
employment of a dramatic Asian style intended to arouse emotion in the reader, the
style criticized by Polybius (2.56.7-12) as representing a confusion between history
and tragedy. Cicero (Fam. 5.12.4-6) agreed that history should be entertaining but
advocated employing the charm and elegance of the rhetorical middle style. Livy
followed this prescription for writing enjoyable history, favoring a pleasant, easy
171
and flowing delivery.
62
The same stylistic divisions were adopted in visual histories,
depending on whether the primary purpose was to convince the viewer of the
impartiality and veracity of the account or to arouse emotion.
Hellenistic “tragic history” is the most obvious example of co-opting literary
attributes to enhance the appeal of historiography, and Tonio Hölscher has proposed
that similar co-options were common in Roman visual histories.
63
Charles Fornara
has suggested that Roman historiography had additional aspects in common with
tragic drama, as it made explicit the moral and ethical consequences of actions and
events.
64
Roman histories also had some similarities to epic poetry, particularly
those histories that featured the early days of Rome. These accounts tend to be
episodic, concentrating on individual valor in battle and invoking the intervention of
the gods, thus bestowing the status of divinely chosen heroes on the early founders
and leaders of Rome. The epic designation of legendary history is reflected in art,
where it is accorded the same treatment as stories from Greek mythology and the
Homeric stories.
In summary, the strongest connection between art and history in the Roman
world is to be found in the content and construction of encomiastic historical
monuments. These monuments share many of the characteristics of Roman
historiography. They delineate the deeds of men, concentrating on the exploits of a
single individual. Success in battle is the most popular subject, followed by civic
and political service to the state. The closest parallel to historical narrative art is the
encomiastic biography, praising the actions of a single individual. Both represent a
172
rhetoric of praise masquerading as objective history, choosing and portraying events
so as to persuade the audience to adopt an interpretation flattering to the subject,
and both consider the virtues of a leader to be decisive factors in the success of an
enterprise. The difficulty of describing these virtues through the medium of art is
overcome by adopting Polybius’ dictum that a description of his actions alone is
sufficient to confer praise or blame on a leader (11.10.21). Detailing his activities
and their consequences is an indication of his character. Some monuments and
biographies, such as Trajan’s Column and Caesar’s De Bello Gallico, espouse a
plain style to compel belief, whereas others, including the Great Trajanic Frieze,
adopt the grand style in order to inspire reverence and awe. It may be concluded that
encomiastic history and encomiastic art are inextricably interrelated by the Roman
preoccupation with rhetoric and the arts of persuasion.
Literature and Theatrical Productions
The literary products of a culture could conceivably influence either the style or
the content of narrative art. The close relationship that existed in the Greco-Roman
world between style in literature and rhetoric makes it difficult to assess an
influence of literary style that is separate and distinct from that of rhetoric. As a
result, the majority of discussions on the involvement of literature in Roman art
have been limited to the relationship between literary narratives and the narrative
content of art.
No remnants of literature produced by the ancient Italic peoples remain, and the
first Roman efforts in this field relied exclusively on Greek models.
65
The earliest
173
and most influential of Greek narratives were the stories of the Trojan cycle. These
tales were undoubtedly part of an oral tradition of storytelling dating back as far as
the Bronze Age, but they were first written down in the late 7
th
or early 6
th
century
B.C.
66
The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer were followed shortly by Hesiod’s
Theogony, an attempt to bring traditions and stories about the gods into a consistent
sequence of relationships and events. In the 5
th
century B.C. the production of
shorter narrative poems on mythological themes was introduced, these poems being
specifically designed to be read aloud.
67
In the Hellenistic era the theme of romantic
love in an idyllic, pastoral setting was introduced in Theocritus’ Idylls and the
Alexandrian poets, the most notable of whom was Callimachus. Apollonius Rhodius
made further contributions to narrative poetry on mythological themes.
68
A second rich source of Greek narrative was provided by tragic drama. Greek
drama is thought to have originated some time in the 6
th
century B.C., with its roots
in performance poetry, i.e. poetry composed for specific occasions such as
weddings, funerals and festivals and intended to be spoken aloud with
accompanying gestures.
69
The great age of Greek drama was centered in 5
th
century
Athens, when poetic, theatrical and athletic contests became a feature of religious
festivals. In the later classical period these festivals were held throughout the Greek
world, and by the Hellenistic era theaters were to be found in all Greek towns of any
size.
The Greek literary topoi that were incorporated into Roman continuous
narratives consisted of the siege of Troy, its aftermath, and the mythology of the
174
Greek gods. It was in the form of epic poetry, shorter narrative poems and tragic
drama, and the Romans adopted both subject matter and format from the Greeks for
their own early attempts at literary production. A partial compensation for the lack
of an indigenous Roman mythology was achieved by adding early Roman history to
the list of subjects suitable for serous literature, thus conferring a mythic status on
the origins of the Roman state.
The earliest Latin literature, from the 3
rd
century B.C., was the product of freed
slaves and dependent foreigners who relied on aristocratic support and catered to the
interests of their noble patrons. Early Roman tragedies, such as the plays of Livius
Andronicus, a freedman from Tarentum and a client of Livius Salinator, were
essentially aemulationes of 5
th
century Greek drama. However, the first epic,
written by Naevius, an Italian provincial, was on the subject of the Punic Wars.
Naevius was also responsible for introducing the fabulae praetextae, dramas based
on Roman history.
70
The most admired work of early Latin literature, hailed as
second only to Homer, was the Annales of Ennius, an epic covering the entire
history of Rome from its foundation to the present day. The poem projected an
image of Roman heroism and virtue as the basis for the success of the Roman state.
Ennius also wrote a number of tragedies, modeled on the plays of the 5
th
century
Athenian playwrights. He took pride in the Greekness of his style, an attitude
endorsed by Horace (Ars P. 268-9), who urged playwrights to imitate Greek
models. Ennius was succeeded by his nephew, Pacuvius (220-130 B.C.), whom
Cicero considered to be the greatest Roman tragedian. Accius (170-86 B.C.) was the
175
last of the early tragedians. His works, and those of Pacuvius, continued to be
performed, at least throughout the period of the Late Republic.
Although only fragments of these works survive, later references enable us to
conclude that the subject matter of early Latin literature consisted of Greek
mythology and Roman history, the same subjects popular in narrative art.
Mythology was the theme chosen for tragedies modeled on 5
th
century Athenian
originals and history was the subject of epics and dramas designed to enhance
Roman status in the civilized world and invoke the favor of the gods as a validation
for Roman expansionism.
Various forms of comic entertainment preceded the advent of tragic drama at
Rome and retained their audience long after tragedy ceased to be a popular
performance art. Despite their popularity, comic themes had little effect on the
subject matter of art and were largely excluded from house decoration. However, a
new form of theatrical entertainment was introduced to Roman audiences in the
Augustan era and may have provided a source for mythological continuous
narratives in private houses. This new genre, pantomime, evoked a very favorable
audience response and soon acquired a huge following. It was a form of interpretive
dance. Narrative, character and emotion were expressed solely by the movements
and gestures of a single male actor, who played different parts sequentially.
71
Traditionally, the art was introduced from Alexandria and the east and was first
produced at the funeral games held for Marcellus in 22 B.C. The subject matter was
drawn from the Greek myths, dramatic and sensational episodes being favored, and
176
the actors wore splendidly embroidered costumes and elaborate masks with closed
mouths. As in the case of rhetoric, a stylized repertoire of gestures was evolved to
express specific emotions. Lucian, in his De Saltatione, has left us a detailed
commentary on pantomime, and from this account it is apparent that the audience
was familiar with both the Greek myths and the ritualized gestures employed in the
dance.
By the end of the 1
st
century B.C. Roman public entertainment consisted of
pantomime and the comic genres of mime and Atellan farce, combined at games
and festivals with chariot races, athletic and gladiatorial contests and spectacles with
elaborate stage effects that were first initiated in triumphal processions. Roman
theater, as a whole, was dedicated to pleasing the mob and courting popular favor
and few serious plays were publicly produced during the Imperial period.
72
Scenes
from 5
th
century Greek dramas continued to be a favored subject for wall decoration
but are unlikely to be attributable to either the artist or his audience having actually
witnessed a public production of the play in question.
Despite the decline in serious theater by the end of the 1
st
century B.C., the
same period saw the flowering of Latin literature. The late Republic and the
Augustan era have been dubbed the Golden Age of Roman literature. Virgil’s
masterwork, the Aeneid, was written during this period, when he was firmly
established in the friendship and protection of Augustus.
73
The epic features the
founding of the Roman state under the guidance of Aeneas, after his escape from
Troy. Augustus’ adopted family, the Julii, claimed descent from Aeneas, and the
177
encomiastic intent of the poem is clear. Aeneas is shown as a divinely chosen
leader, replete with antique Roman virtues, and three prophecies presage the
establishment of empire under Augustus: Jupiter prophesizes to Venus,
guaranteeing the never-ending rule of Augustus and his descendants (1.278-96);
Anchises, in the underworld, confirms the ascendancy of Augustus (6.781-807); and
the shield made by Vulcan for Aeneas depicts Augustus receiving the homage of all
nations after Actium. The political purpose of the Aeneid is readily apparent and
Virgilian imagery was prominent in narrative art of the later Augustan era.
74
However, although the fame of the Aeneid, which replaced Ennius as a school text,
long survived the death of Augustus, the story of Aeneas in visual form is quite rare
after the Julio-Claudian period, in common with other evocations of Rome’s early
history. Its value as an encomium is limited quite specifically to Augustus.
The other well known narrative of the later Augustan period is Ovid’s
Metamorphoses, which had a far more lasting effect on narrative art. Ovid was
responsible for popularizing Greek myth in the Heroides and the Metamorphoses.
These works represent examples of Latin literature intended for both elite and non-
elite audiences and went far towards turning Greek myth into a contemporary
Roman property. The Heroides features fifteen letters purporting to have been
written by mythological women who were abandoned by husbands or lovers. The
Metamorphoses contains two hundred and fifty stories, drawn from mainly
Hellenistic sources but including a few Romano-Italian episodes.
75
The only
unifying theme was that all stories featured people who were turned into animals or
178
inanimate objects by the machinations of the gods. These tales were immensely
popular with a wide segment of society, and the Metamorphoses is credited as the
most common source for mythological domestic paintings.
After the Augustan age, the production of literary efforts joined historiography
as an elite occupation for industrious otium. Pliny (Ep. 4.20.10-12; 5.15; 5.17)
provides evidence that the Roman upper class intelligentsia exchanged
compositions in various literary genres, seeking criticism and approval, and that
these exchanges made a contribution to prestige.
76
Reading as a pastime had
proliferated in the late Republic, owing to an increase in both literacy and book
production.
77
Booksellers were established in Rome and the first public library was
established by Asinius Pollio in 39 B.C. Under the Empire scholarship and creative
writing gained in prestige and even some emperors wrote history or poetry. The
possession of a library became an article of status, and Seneca said that ignorant
men bought books, not to read but as a decoration for the dining room. The trickle-
down effect of status seeking is illustrated in the Satyricon. The vulgar and ignorant
Trimalchio attempts to show that he received a secondary education and is familiar
with Greek mythology, which, according to him, he read in Homer in his boyhood.
In the later 1
st
century and the 2
nd
century A.D. it is probable that circulation of
new tragedies and poetry was largely limited to the literati of the upper classes.
Both Pliny and Tacitus indicate that these literati were prolific producers of tragic
drama, but there are few mentions of public productions in a theater, and the only
examples that survive are the tragedies of Seneca the Younger. Epic is well
179
represented at this period and the surviving manuscripts display a continuing
dichotomy in subject matter between Greek myth and Roman history. However,
none of the narrative poetry of the period achieved the wide popularity and
dissemination of the Aeneid or the Metamorphoses, and it is unlikely that it
influenced the choice of subject matter by the artists, the sculptors or their patrons.
This review of Roman literary production reveals that the two most popular
subjects for narrative were Greek mythology and excerpts from Roman history.
These are also the subjects that appear frequently in Roman narrative art, providing
a basis for the assumption made by many art historians that a close relationship
exists between literary texts and the content of narrative art, even to the extent of
using art to reconstruct fragmentary or missing texts.
78
More recent scholarship has
rejected this assumption. Working in the context of Archaic and early Classical vase
painting, Guy Hedreen has assembled evidence that a number of different sources
may have contributed to the representation of a single myth, since scenes on
different vases vary as to who was present and the exact nature of an occurrence.
79
Possibly as little as 1% of Archaic vases illustrating the Trojan story show evidence
of Homeric influence.
80
Hedreen situates Archaic vase painting in the context of an
ongoing oral tradition, in a culture that was strongly oral and in which literacy and
access to texts was strictly limited. In the Hellenistic and Roman periods literacy
and the availability of texts improved, and by the end of the 1
st
century B.C. it is
possible that even the sons of some wealthier freedmen and artisans received a
secondary education that included exposure to both Greek and Latin poetry.
180
Representations of scenes from plays increased in the Hellenistic era, sometimes, as
in the case of the Megarian bowls, including lines from a specific text, and on the
Roman Iliac Tablets a synopsis of the epic accompanied illustration of the Trojan
story.
Notwithstanding these examples of text and story combined, Jocelyn Penny
Small has concluded that, prior to late antiquity, Roman visual narratives seldom
illustrated specific texts.
81
Artists drew on several available sources, including the
memory of texts read and plays attended in the past. The introduction of stock
motifs in both Roman historical relief sculpture and Roman painting indicates that a
fruitful source was the work of other artists, either copied directly or obtained from
pattern books. It has been noted that a number of Roman wall paintings dealing with
the same subject have a fundamental similarity of composition, even when some
figures are added, inverted or eliminated.
82
The ultimate source for these
compositions is thought to be lost Hellenistic or Late Classical paintings and the
originals have been assiduously sought, mainly in the descriptions of Greek
paintings to be found in Pliny’s Natural History.
83
The concept of artistic borrowing
from either Greek sources or later Roman adaptations is in keeping with Roman
ideas on emulation and the transfer of ideas to a new context.
Although it is unlikely that many artists consulted specific literary sources
before commencing a project, it is probable that texts, particularly in the Roman
period, contributed to the memories on which visual representations of a story were
based. In some cases textual influence is reasonably clear. Ovid, in particular,
181
appears to have been a source for both wall paintings and mythological sarcophagi,
according to an analysis by Richard Brilliant.
84
Ovid had a popular readership and
catered to the taste for versatility and high drama evident in pantomime and Roman
spectacular productions. In his detailed accounts of battles and wounds he indulged
the Roman fascination with violence and bloodshed, and he produced extended
descriptions of people, places and events, so that his poetry lent itself to illustration.
Artists of the early Empire probably gleaned much of what they knew about Greek
mythology from Ovid, and his work continued to be a source for mythological
stories throughout the early modern period. Many of the mythological themes
popular in Roman continuous narrative occur in Ovid or in Theocritus, another
source that possibly found its way into the oral tradition of Greek myth. For
example, the story of Daedalus and Icarus is told twice by Ovid, and Peter von
Blanckenhagen has found elements of both versions in Pompeian wall paintings of
this myth.
85
In addition, Eleanor Leach has traced the origins of the Diana and
Actaeon myth in Campanian painting to Greek and Latin sources and related
paintings of Polyphemus and Galataea to Theoctitus’ Idyll 11.
86
The evidence provided by Roman narrative art indicates that artists did not
consistently consult original sources but frequently worked from memory of what
they had heard or read in the past. An artist’s own conception of a story was derived
from a variety of sources, including written texts, oral presentations and the work of
other artists. The principal literary sources appear to have been tragic drama and
various forms of narrative poetry. Comedy, despite its popularity, seems to have had
182
little effect on subject matter, although the development of a stylized system of
gesture may have influenced narrative art.
87
The exclusion of comic scenes may be
related to the role of narrative art in promoting status. A knowledge of tragedy and
poetry was considered indicative of erudition and refinement, but appreciation of
comedy would have no such effect. Pantomime, however, was thought to be a more
refined form of entertainment, suitable for elite enjoyment, and Charles Dawson has
pointed out that the emotional and dramatic scenes popular in pantomime coincided
with those chosen for the mythological landscape paintings of theThird Style, the
genre in which the majority of mythological continuous narratives are to be found.
88
The interrelationship between art and literature was not limited solely to the
literary provision of sources for narrative art. Both genres were produced in the
same social and political milieu and similar influences are reflected in a coincidence
of subject matter and approach. The most serious and prestigious forms of early
Roman literature, epic and tragic drama, were devoted to heroic Greek mythology
and the early history of Rome. The adoption of the epic and tragic formats directly
from Greek models explains the concentration on mythological subjects, but the
innovation of introducing early history as a subject for serious literature reflects
Roman concerns with tradition and ancient ideals. These concerns were reiterated in
narrative art of the Republican and early Imperial period, when the legendary
history of Rome was celebrated in both public and private settings.
89
After the
Augustan age the representation of early history declined in both art and literature.
This decline may be attributed to the waning of an essentially Republican ideal
183
under successive years of imperial rule and to the co-option of art, literature and
rhetoric for the purpose of lauding the emperor.
Literature and art praising the individual and his achievements were an enduring
Roman tradition, evident in the earliest narratives produced during the initial period
of Republican expansion. There is ample evidence in Livy, Pliny and Plutarch for
the popularity of triumphal narratives in early art and the encomium was the major
subject for imperial public display. A similar tradition is to be found in literature,
starting in the 3
rd
century and enduring throughout the Roman period. Naevius
produced a play recounting the victory of Claudius Marcellus over the Gauls and
Ennius celebrated the victories of his patron, Fulvius Nobilior, in the concluding
episodes of his Annales and in a separate production, the Ambracia.
90
The poetic
encomium was revived in the time of Augustus, and appears in the poetry of
Horace, Propertius and Tibullus. Statius, who was a professional poet, relying on
the patronage of Domitian, produced an epic account of the emperor’s German
victories.
In both art and literature the more frivolous themes of Greek mythology, the
amours of the gods and Hellenistic romantic inventions, were largely excluded from
serious consideration in epic, tragedy and representations on public monuments.
These themes appear in shorter narrative poems designed for popular entertainment
and in the decoration of private houses, where they were intended to enhance the
pleasures of otium and relaxation.
184
Simonides of Keos first enunciated the perception of a relationship between art
and poetry that was prevalent in the ancient world, characterizing a painting as mute
poetry and a poem as a “speaking picture.” The association was reiterated by
Horace in the famous comparison ut pictura poesis. Richard Brilliant considers that
“a particularly close relationship between word and picture exists when an artist
composes an image or series of images that attempts to make an entire discourse
visible all at once in the form of a narrative.”
91
This survey of Roman narrative
literature indicates that a high degree of interaction between narrative art and
narrative literature existed in ancient Rome, both in the choice of subject matter and
the characteristics of its expression.
Philosophy
The concept of the wise man, or sage, originated in Greece prior to the 6
th
century B.C. The term “sophist” was applied to such men, who excelled in
intellectual achievement of any description.
92
By the 5
th
century the Greeks were
beginning to explore the nature of the universe and of ethical behavior, and were
recording these ideas in prose treatises. The sophists of the 6
th
century traveled the
Greek world, lecturing on a variety of topics, including ethics, mathematics and the
sciences. Socrates first separated philosophy from practical instruction as a form of
intellectual endeavor devoted to discovering the sources of virtue and the good. In
the 4
th
century schools of philosophy were established, including Plato’s Academy
at Athens. The Academy was succeeded by Aristotle’s Lyceum, which also offered
instruction in more practical subjects such as science, literature and politics.
185
Philosophy and the investigation of metaphysics retained their popularity in the
Hellenistic kingdoms and, in due course, were exported to Rome. The first
philosophers to visit Rome, in 155 B.C., were the Stoic, Diogenes, the Peripatetic,
Critolaus and the Sceptic, Carneades. They delivered lectures and aroused
considerable interest among the Roman elite. An influx of philosophers
accompanied the rhetoricians after the conquest of Greece, and many settled at
Rome under elite patronage. Philosophy became part of the Roman educational
system by the end of the 2
nd
century B.C. Many young men studied at the schools of
philosophy in Athens, Rhodes and Asia Minor, and the practice continued in the
Imperial period. However, philosophy never attained the popularity and influence
that rhetoric enjoyed in Roman society. Philosophy lacked the practical applications
of rhetoric, and abstract speculation was regarded as very Greek. Particularly in the
early years, there was a real fear that philosophy would seduce youths away from
traditional behavior and lead to disobedience and sedition. Cato adduced this
concern as the reason for the expulsion of the three Greek philosophers who came to
Rome in 155 B.C. Most young men who studied philosophy did so in order to attain
a veneer of Greek sophistication, and it was a general consensus that philosophical
speculation belonged in the schools of philosophy. The masses should not be
exposed to philosophical arguments, as such ideas could corrupt them and seduce
them from their duties and obligations.
93
Despite the somewhat contemptuous attitude of most Romans towards
philosophy, two philosophical belief systems did have a significant influence on
186
Roman society and behavior and a concomitant effect on the content of art and
literature. These two philosophies emerged during the Hellenistic period. Epicurus
of Samos, the founder of Epicureanism, came to Athens in 307 B.C. and established
his school, known as the Garden. Epicurus taught that life was made miserable by
fear of pain and death. The wise man should seek pleasure and freedom from pain
as the greatest good. Pleasure, however, was not defined as hedonistic indulgence of
the senses but as attainment of an unruffled serenity of mind. This serenity was best
achieved by intellectual development and the exercise of self-restraint in
experiencing sensual delights. The Epicureans advocated a withdrawal from public
life, preferably to the countryside, where a man could pursue his intellectual
interests in quiet serenity. Stoicism was founded by Zeno of Cyprus, who came to
Athens in 313 B.C. and held his discourses in the Stoa Poikile. The Stoics believed
that a divine essence pervades all matter. This essence, which they called Nature or
Providence, is a normalizing force for the good and governs the universe by
enforcing inalienable laws.
94
He who lives according to Nature acquires wisdom and
virtue. Such virtue is the only good and constitutes happiness. Emotion and passion
are to be avoided and moderation exercised in all things. Only the sage is admirable,
and reason, in accordance with Natural law, is the only criterion of behavior.
The reason why these particular philosophies appealed to the Romans was
debated even in the ancient world. Epicureanism, in particular, appears to be very
un-Roman, but its beliefs enjoyed a period of popularity in the late Republican
period, attracting adherents such as Cicero’s friend, Atticus. In the same period
187
Lucretius wrote a poem, De Rerum Natura, expounding the doctrine of Epicurus
with a view to abolishing the fear of the gods. Cicero (Cael. 40.1) explained the
popularity of Epicureanism as the result of a lax moral outlook in the late Republic,
but, in retrospect, Epicurean escapism probably owed its appeal to the stress and
danger resulting from the political climate of the time.
95
Stoicism was considerably
more in tune with Roman beliefs than Epicureanism. The philosophy was
introduced to Rome by Panaetius, a client of Scipio Africanus, who opened the first
school of Stoic philosophy at Rome. His successor, Posidonius, made efforts to
adapt Stoic philosophy to the ideals of the Roman elite. His neo-Stoicism placed
greater emphasis on ethics than on theory. The idea of Natural Law was translated
into the concept that men who follow reason and virtue inevitably succeed, and
those who give way to emotion and vice will fail.
96
For many Romans, Stoic
doctrines provided a rationalization of their own beliefs on traditional behavior and
virtue, as Stoic standards of decorum, restraint, courage and justice were very
similar to those of the mos maiorum (Cic. Tusc. 1.2), and the Stoics also believed in
teaching by example.
Epicureanism disapproved of ambition and power politics (Diog. Laert. 10.118),
although performance of civic and religious duties was sanctioned in order to avoid
conflict and unpleasant consequences. The Stoics, however, urged their adherents to
participate in politics and serve the state in order to promote virtue and restrain
vice.
97
Stoicism, therefore, did not interfere with the civic, social and military duties
that were the basis of the Roman state.
98
The acquisition of material benefits was
188
considered neither intrinsically good nor bad and was permissible, provided it did
not conflict with the pursuit of virtue, so that Stoicism was not a curb on Roman
competition for wealth or status.
In the field of religion, Epicurean beliefs were also contrary to the tenets of the
state religion. In the Epicurean view, the gods existed in a state of remote
tranquility, indifferent to the concerns of mankind, so that the rituals and offerings
of the state religion were useless, and participation was premised only on the desire
to escape public censure. The Stoics had various beliefs on the nature of the gods.
The oldest view was that the gods were a manifestation of the purest kind of divine
essence, a belief not too far removed from the early Roman view of numina
pervading nature.
99
Sacrifice and prayer beseeching benefits and protection were
considered to be of no avail, because fate is immutable, governed by Natural Law.
Posidonius modified these beliefs in order to conform with the demands of the state
religion. He accepted that the gods exist as elements of the principle of reason, and
considered their worship to be an incentive to a moral life, representing the
honoring of an ancient and admirable tradition.
100
The reconciliation of Stoicism
with Roman beliefs and practices is undoubtedly the reason why Stoicism endured,
whereas the influence of Epicureanism waned after the Augustan era. The
popularity of Stoicism is attested until the 3
rd
century A.D. Augustus included Stoic
philosophers in his household and enthusiastic adherents of Stoicism include the
Younger Seneca and the emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Some Stoic philosophers, such
as the philosopher-historian Arrian, rose to high public positions.
101
189
By the end of the 1
st
century B.C. Greek philosophy in its various manifestations
was firmly established as a component of elite education. However, philosophy
never became intrinsic to Roman intellectual life as rhetoric did, and many upper
class Romans adopted the views ascribed by Cicero to Cotta in his De Natura
Deorum (3.5-7). After questioning Stoic and Epicurean views on the gods, Cotta
decided to adhere to the beliefs of the ancestors, as these were the basis for Roman
greatness. Attempts at moral reform, such as those of Augustus and Domitian, did
not invoke philosophical concepts of morality but were built on the traditional
mores, that, according to popular belief, were responsible for Rome’s preeminence.
Stoicism did, however, provided a theoretical basis for these traditional values and
helped to create a social environment in which a humane and just rule was at least
regarded as a desirable goal.
Philosophy did not have the direct and easily traceable influence of literature or
rhetoric on the subject matter and style of continuous narrative. Nevertheless, the
contribution of philosophy towards shaping the moral and intellectual climate of an
era influenced all forms of cultural production, including art. Epicureanism is
associated with the pastoral tradition in both poetry and landscape painting, as both
genres reflect a withdrawal from contemporary society and the seeking of refuge in
an idealized rustic past. Epicureanism also encouraged concentration on
development of the intellect and on the finer things in life. Atticus, for example, was
renowned for the collection and acquisition of Greek art after he withdrew from the
political scene and made his home in Athens. Finally, Stoic ideas on virtue as the
190
only good reinforced the concept of attributing ancient virtues to the emperors in the
rhetorical panegyric and visual narrative and may have influenced the choice of
moralizing subjects for mythological narratives in art.
Conclusion
Ideas formulated in rhetoric, historiography, literature and philosophy were
influential in the development of content and style in Roman continuous narratives.
Some encomiastic monuments may be regarded as visual expressions of the
rhetorical panegyric, while others adhere just as closely to the self-serving historical
biography. Rhetorical considerations determined the style of these monuments and
historiography was influential in choice of subject matter and arrangement. Poetry
and drama affected the selection of myths chosen to decorate Roman walls, and
pantomime has been implicated in the choice of subject matter for mythological
continuous narratives. Philosophical precepts had a less direct influence on the
moral and intellectual climate of the time.
It may be postulated that narrative art had a reciprocal effect on other modes of
expression. For example, the visual record of Trajan’s wars, including the battle
sketches sent home from the front, could affect written accounts of the wars, and the
persuasive visual rhetoric of encomiastic biographies may have influenced how an
individual was viewed by future historians. Popular representations of myth and
legend may have entered the oral tradition and found expression in poetry and
drama. Narrative art also served to validate status seeking by providing an
191
additional arena for competition and a form of expression exposed to a wider
audience than was available for written forms of self-advertisement.
192
Notes: Chapter 3.
1. Calboli and Dominik (1997) 11.
2. Carey (2000) 192.
3. Kennedy (1994) 3.
4. Calboli and Dominik (1997) 4.
5. Kennedy (1994) 33.
6. Carey (2000) 194.
7. Clarke (1996) 3.
8. Fantham (1997) 125. Elaine Fantham has indicated how much significant public
trials contributed to popular entertainment, likening them to rock concerts,
complete with ticket scalping and excessive displays of emotion by the audience,
including laughter, boos, cheers and tears.
9. Clarke (1996) 62.
10. Aldrete (1999) 3.
11. Calboli and Dominik (1997) 4.
12. Kirby (1997) 17.
13. Clarke (1957) 88-100.
14. Leeman (1963) 40. The popularity of historical exempla and comparisons in
Roman rhetoric is attested by the publication, in the time of Tiberius, of
Valerius Maximus’ Factorem ac Dictorium Memorabilium Libri, a book of
examples from the past intended for the use of rhetoricians. The book includes
many instances of specific ancient virtues, such as clemency, piety and duty.
Leeman explains Roman fondness for historical examples in terms of reverence
for the past.
15. Fantham (1997) 123-5.
16. Gleason (1995) xxiv-xxvi.
193
17. See Bonner (1949) 31-8 for a list of known subjects employed in early school
declamations, and for private debates in the Republican period.
18. Kraus (2000b) 445-6. Declamation was a phenomenally popular activity for the
leisured class in general, and even emperors declaimed and listened to
declamations. It was enthusiastically received by the cultured elite throughout
the 1
st
and 2
nd
centuries A.D..
19. Bloomer (1997) 119-225. The major source for our knowledge of declamatory
subjects is a work of the Elder Seneca, the Oratorium Sententiae Divisiones et
Colores, written in the time of Tiberius. The book contains excerpts from
declamations delivered in the recent past and attempts to elevate declamation to
the status held by oratory in the late Republic.
20. Brink (1989) 472-503. Quintilian, for example, criticized the unrealistic subject
matter (Inst. 2.10.3) and the unnatural and affected style (Inst. 8.3.56-8). He did
not, however, advocate the abolition of declamation, but rather its reform, so as
to become again a scholastic preparation for speeches in the law courts and
forum.
21. Gleason (1995). Maud Gleason has traced the illustrious careers of two most
unlikely candidates for imperial favor, the declaimer Favorinus, a Gallic
hermaphrodite, and Polemon, who achieved great recognition in the Hadrianic
era, based solely on his declamatory prowess and skill in self-presentation.
22. Brilliant (1963) 9.
23. Baldwin (1999) 3-17. The analysis of rhetorical style was instituted in 5
th
century Athens and was extended by the Peripatetics of the Academy to
encompass literary criticism. Thereafter there was no clear distinction in the
Greek and Roman worlds between literary criticism and rhetorical theory.
Examples from the poets were used indiscriminately with rhetorical examples to
illustrate figures of speech or thought, so that the influence of rhetoric was not
limited to prose writing, and works such as Horace’s Ars Poetica were indebted
to rhetorical teaching.
24. Cicero (Part. 14.5) indicated that the oratory of praise should include not only
deeds but also virtues, good looks, wealth, ancestry and other favorable
attributes. Encomiastic monuments were obviously limited to those attributes
that were amenable to visual expression.
194
25. Brilliant (1963) 60. Richard Brilliant has conducted an exhaustive survey of
gesture in Roman public art. According to Brilliant, the military address
signifies inspired leadership and the civilian adlocutio is symbolic of a dignified
civic presence to augment military success.
26. See Pollini (1995) 262-82 for the rhetorical nature of the hand gesture of the
Prima Porta statue.
27. The anecdote concerning Demosthenes’ response to the question of what
constitutes the most important aspects of oratory is told by Cicero on three
separate occasions and repeated by Quintilian (Inst. 11.3.6), as well as by most
other Roman and Greek treatises on rhetoric. Demosthenes is supposed to have
listed delivery as first, second and third in importance.
28. Brilliant (1963) 9-10; Brilliant(1986) 27-38.
29. Leeman (1963) 128.
30. Aldrete (1997) 64-9.
31. Dominik (1997) 65-8. Dominik cites examples from Tacitus, Cicero and
Quintilian to illustrate the insistence of Roman rhetoric on suiting style to
subject matter, speaker and audience.
32. Elsner (2004) 271-5) Jas Elsner has discussed the plurality of styles in the late
Imperial period, styles that either looked back towards Greek naturalism or
forward to the abstraction and schematization of medieval art.
33. Hölscher (2004) 11-5. Neither the neo-classical revivals of Augustus and
Domitian nor the Flavian and Antonine preference for the Hellenistic baroque
precluded the use of other Greek styles. Style was diverse in every era.
34. Ibid. 76-80.
35. Ibid. 96.
36. Zanker (1990) 44-53.
37. Connors (1997) 71-87.
38. Kuttner (1993) 219.
39. Ryberg (1955) 147.
195
40. Zanker (1990) 5-11.
41. Ryberg (1955) 21. Ryberg indicates that these early remains from a late 2
nd
century B.C. temple on the Caelian Hill also exhibited the Greek characteristic
of hierarchical size, the human attendants being smaller than the gods.
42. Fornara (1983) 1-27.
43. Usher (1982) 3-6. Herodotus’ account, however, is based mainly on oral
traditions, and is filled with digressions and stories heard on his travels, a
mishmash of geography, ethnography and legend.
44. Kurke (2000) 133-55. This method of historiography remained the preferred
approach throughout the Roman period and for many centuries thereafter.
45. Walsh (1967) 23-4. The classification of histories as literary works has been
attributed to Isocrates, but Thucydides had received literary training from the
sophists and adopted a simple, though elegant style.
46. Ibid. 21-5.
47. Fornara (1983) 34. The deeds of a leader were described as though he were a
Homeric hero and solely responsible for the outcome of a battle or war.
48. Kraus (2000a) 329.
49. Ogilvy (1980) 36-8. This history was written in Greek, still regarded as the
international written language, and was probably designed to impress the Greek
world with the might of Rome.
50. Cornell (1995) 4-30. The annalists of the 1
st
century are believed to have been
less scrupulous than their 2
nd
century predecessors, inventing facts when they
were unknown. We have, however, no direct evidence for the factuality of
either the earlier or later annalists, nor do we know the extent to which they
served as sources for the later historians.
51. Frier (1979) 85-105.
52. Ibid. 133-9.
53. Usher (1982) 110-2. Polybius did make the concession that historians may,
through patriotism, treat their own nation sympathetically, provided the account
does not distort the facts.
196
54. Fornara (1983) 84. Sallust was noted for his pessimistic outlook and for his
attempt to develop a literary style adapted specifically to the writing of history.
This style was abrupt and filled with archaisms. It provided a direct contrast to
the style employed by historians such as Coelius Antipater, who emulated the
dramatic and ornamented Hellenistic histories.
55. A Greek precedent for this format existed in Xenophon’s Anabasis, an account
of his actions following participation in the campaign of Cyrus II of Persia. In
1
st
century Rome Antias wrote in praise of Sulla’s activities in the Social War
and Macer performed the same function for the wars of Marius.
56. Leeman (1963) 156-7. The use of the third person was possibly a characteristic
of such reports and serves to set Caesar and his concerns at an apparent distance.
57. Ogilvy (1980) 154. Ogilvy has pointed out that Livy constructed moral episodes
designed to display specific ancient virtues from the bare bones of ancient
records. Each of these episodes culminates in a speech, providing an
opportunity to display Livy’s rhetorical eloquence. Camillus, for example, after
actions demonstrating his piety, addresses the Romans, urging them not to
neglect their religious tradition.
58. Kraus (2000b) 461-3.
59.
Unlike the Hellenistic Greeks, the Romans showed little interest in the histories
of other peoples, unless they impinged on Roman interests. Livy (4.25.8) stated
that it is not worth discussing wars between other peoples, based on the
assumption that the primary focus of Roman history should be Roman wars.
60. Holliday (2002) 11-12.
61. Leeman (1963) 86-7. Such language was intended to convey the authority and
gravity attached to state documents.
62. Walsh (1967) 125-6. Livy was, however, an exponent of a Roman practice
employed by both rhetoricians and historians, the variation of style to suit
different subject matter. For certain dramatic subjects, such as battles and
impressive speeches he employed the grand, heavily ornamented Hellenistic
style.
63. Hölscher (2004) 31-45.
64. Fornara (1983) 171.
65. Ogilvy (1980) 27.
197
66. Taplin (2000) 23. Both Homer and Hesiod speak of poet-singers who presented
poems about gods and heroes to an audience, so the Iliad was not the first Greek
poem but the first written poem.
67. Kurke (2000) 58. The best known examples of shorter narrative poems can be
found in the works of Pindar and Baccylides.
68. Lightfoot (2000) 235-6. 3
rd
century Alexandria, under the Ptolemies, was a
center for the arts and it was at this time that the study of literature was added to
Hellenistic education.
69. Wilson (2000) 89-90. Peter Wilson postulates that that the song and dance
associated with the worship of Dionysus was adapted to become the tragic
chorus.
70. Leigh (2000) 298.
71. Beacham (1991) 129-31. The praetextae may be regarded as an early example
of Roman self promotion. They frequently dealt with recent historical events.
72. Ibid. 152-3.
73. Morgan (2000) 360. Literary patronage, more or less in abeyance during the late
Republic, was revived in the Augustan era, and its effects on the poetry of both
Virgil and Horace can be seen in deference paid to the views of the patron.
74. Dihle (1989) 31; Morgan (2000) 391; Galinsky (2003) 275-94. The voluminous
scholarship on the subject of the Aeneid has discovered deeper meanings
underlying the more obvious political intent. Llewelyn Morgan, for example,
finds a subtle message in the Aeneid, considering that the trials of Aeneas
address the sufferings Augustus was forced to inflict on the Roman people in
order to rebuild a greater Rome. Karl Galinsky sees a a tragic dimension in the
Aeneid and a turning away from the epic tradition, because Aeneas, as a good
Roman should, places communal values and the good of the state above the
individual quest for glory characteristic of Homeric epic. Dihle, however,
emphasizes that Aeneas is not a tragic character, as he is not at odds with fate
and the gods. In art, however, the use of the Aeneid focuses on the more blatant
aim of flattering. Augustus by including the stories of his putative ancestor in
public and private narratives.
75. Hardie (2000) 418. The sources were varied, including tragedy, hymns, elegy,
pastoral poetry and romantic Greek novels.
198
76. Pliny’s letters provide evidence that these exchanges included history, poetry,
oratory, philosophy and tragic drama. Pliny describes reading his own verses to
a select group of friends and gives the reasons why these reading were held.
Firstly, a public reading causes an author to be more critical of his own work,
for fear of inviting public censure. Secondly, he wants advice and an
opportunity to judge the worth of a work by gauging audience reaction.
77. Ogilvy (1980) 13-7. Most Romans could read and write by the 1
st
century A.D.,
as is testified by graffiti on the walls of Pompeii and elsewhere. Most free men
received a primary education and the better off citizens went on to secondary
school, where they learned Greek and Latin poetry by heart.
78. Robert (1881) 5-11. The idea that visual narratives illustrated texts was initiated
in the 19
th
century by Carl Robert. In the 20
th
century Karl Weitzmann was a
strong advocate for this view.
79. Hedreen (2001) 3-12.
80. Lowenstam (1997) 21-76.
81. Small (2003) 155-60. Small’s study is directed towards discovering whether
ancient visual narratives represent exact replications of specific texts or are
drawn from a variety of sources, including the oral tradition.
82. Stenico (1963) 33-4.
83. Maiuri (1953) 73; Pollitt (1966) 208. Pollitt has affirmed that Roman paintings
should not be considered as exact copies but as adaptations of Hellenistic works.
84. Brilliant (1984) 74, 81, 130-1. The combination of Echo and Narcissus in the
same story appears for the first time in Ovid and the forty paintings of the
subject in Pompeii are obviously based on his text. The same origin can be
found for representations of Pyramus and Thisbe and Apollo and Daphne.
85. Blanckenhagen (1968) 134. Blanckenhagen noted some details that are not
mentioned in Ovid and, therefore, concluded that Ovid is not the source for the
paintings.
86. Leach (1981) 307-27.
87. Aldrete (1999) 51-2. Gregory Aldrete considers that the plebs were educated in
the use of gesture by its inclusion in popular entertainment.
88. Dawson (1965) 178-9.
199
89. An example of early historical narrative employed in a private context is the
fresco found in the tomb of the Statilii. The reliefs of early Roman history in the
Basilica Aemilia are examples from a public context.
90. Gruen (1990) 92-113.
91. Brilliant (1984) 53.
92. Nightingale (2000) 156-91. Areas for intellectual achievement included the
sciences, mathematics and poetry.
93. Brunt (1989) 187-90. Cicero (Nat. D. 1.61) was firm on this point, although he
was an advocate of an orator obtaining an education in Greek philosophy.
94. Rosemeyer (2000) 99-119.
95. Leeman (1963) 201. It was customary for those who were threatened by the
ascendancy of political opponents to retire to their country estates, hoping to
escape notice by maintaining a low profile. Cicero, after backing the wrong
candidate in the struggle between Pompey and Caesar, wrote in retirement on
the safe subjects of philosophy and religion.
96. Walsh (1967) 50-60. Both Livy and Cicero (Nat D. 2.7) applied the concept to
Roman history. The triumph of Rome was preordained because the virtuous
conduct of the Romans ensured divine protection, and the general who neglects
his duty to the gods is destined to fail.
97. Arnold (1971) 393.
98. Atherton (1988) 405-08. Cicero (Fin. 3.68) has Cato argue that it is our duty to
take part in government, as Natural Law makes us wish to benefit our fellow
men.
99. Walsh (1967) 60.
100. Arnold (1971) 274. An additional advantage enjoyed by Stoicism in the
Imperial period was its elitist and undemocratic nature. Stoicism tended to
favor monarchical rule, harking back to Plato’s Republic and the concept of
rule by the wise man or sage.
101. Ibid. 389-91.
200
PART II: Introduction
The second part of this study consists of an examination and analysis of Roman
continuous narratives from the early 1
st
century B.C. to the 3
rd
century A.D.
The continuous narrative style is found in two major categories of Roman art,
both of which have Greek antecedents but underwent extensive developments in the
Roman era, in directions that reflect specifically Roman concerns and ideologies.
The first of these categories consists of biographical and historical narratives
concerning recent events, whereas the second category includes visual retellings of
the myths and hero tales of ancient Greece. To this second category the Romans
added their own semi-legendary history of the early days of Rome.
The genre of historical and biographical narrative has a long history in art of the
ancient Mediterranean. From the 3
rd
millennium B.C. members of the ruling classes
employed visual records of recent events primarily as a means of persuading the
populace that the well- being of the state rested on their efforts in both war and
peace and that their actions had the sanction of the gods. Visual commemorations of
meritorious deeds were most common in societies that had a strictly hierarchical
social structure and placed great emphasis on the acquisition of personal power and
status. They are found in the art of Egypt and Assyria but are rare in the art of
Greece before the Hellenistic era.
1
After the conquests of Alexander the Great,
techniques of political persuasion were adopted from the art of the Near East by the
rulers of the Hellenistic kingdoms and were inherited in turn by the Romans.
2
201
The Romans excelled in creating images of power and success. They agreed, in
principle, with the Greek idea that art should glorify only the gods and the state.
However, from its earliest beginnings, Roman commemorative art was dedicated to
rewarding the individual for good service and noble deeds, the Romans, according
to Cicero (Leg. Man. 9.21), being greedy for praise and reward. The glorification of
an individual by the erection of a laudatory monument could always be explained as
the provision of an incentive towards equally meritorious behavior in the future.
3
In
the Pro Archia Cicero rationalized the praise bestowed on great men as reflecting
honor on the entire people of Rome and resulting in the strengthening of the state.
4
The task confronting those who designed and executed Roman visual
biographies and histories was complex, because the audience for whom these
histories were intended was far from monolithic. Ideally, the message should reach
all classes of Roman society and, from the mid-Republic on, also be intelligible to
the inhabitants of far-flung subject states. The message should impress the general
public and the army, whose support was necessary to ensure retention of the
existing order, it should gain political backing from other members of the elite
classes and it should intimidate enemies and subject peoples while inspiring
confidence at home.
The intention of placing a sponsor in the public eye and evoking admiration and
awe in the viewer is implicit in the earliest productions of Roman historical art, the
triumphal paintings exhibited in public that were discussed in a preceding section.
An additional reward for signal service to the state that dates to the same early
202
period of the Latin Wars was the erection of honorific statues in public places.
5
The
first such statue mentioned by Pliny (HN 34. 21-22) was erected in 439 B.C. in
honor of L. Minucius, the prefect of the grain supply, and Livy (8.13.9) cites statues
honoring the commanders in the First Latin War of 338 B.C. Statues of envoys
killed on a diplomatic mission were established in the same period (Pliny, HN
34.24), indicating that honor was accorded for both military and civic service at this
early date. By the 3
rd
century statues proliferated in public spaces, as the elite
classes erected commemorations honoring both themselves and their ancestors.
6
These statues could celebrate either military or civic service or laud personal virtue
and adherence to tradition. Statues honoring a civic persona showed a togate citizen,
erect and dignified, holding the rotulus of office or engaged in rhetorical speech.
Statues praising military success were cuirassed, equestrian or displayed heroic
semi-nudity, spear in hand, in order to indicate the military nature of the
commemoration. In the Imperial period the emperors usurped public encomiastic
art, particularly relief sculpture. Statues continued to be erected to both ordinary
citizens and the elite, but imperial permission was required for public
commemorations (Pliny, Ep.1.7). These celebrations followed the same pattern as
the imperial monuments, honoring civic, military and religious duties.
A further method employed by the Romans for advertising themselves and their
ancestors was commemorative coinage. Until the late Republican period visual
imagery on Roman coinage was in the control of the elected moneyers. The earliest
images of the 3
rd
century B.C. were mostly allegorical in content, the obverse of a
203
coin being devoted to portraits of the gods and the reverse to symbols of the
Republic, such as Roma or the Lupa Romana. In the 2nd century these portraits
were replaced by those of the moneyers’ ancestors and in the 1
st
century by portraits
of the moneyers themselves. The reverse was devoted to their deeds, both military
and civic.
7
Relief sculpture, the medium for the majority of extant Roman historical art in
the continuous narrative style, was a relative latecomer. The Romans did not
employ marble until the last century of the Republic and no examples of terracotta
historical reliefs are known. Narrative reliefs may be divided into the categories of
biography and history. Mario Torelli has categorized historical narratives as those
celebrating actions important to the city or state, actions that altered the course of
history.
8
The activities recorded in biographical narratives were designed to
establish only the status and history of an individual and had little or no impact on
the state. Civic and military deeds were celebrated in both categories, sometimes on
the same monument, and both categories included religious ceremonies, a result of
the Roman proclivity for seeking the approval of the gods for individual and state
enterprises. The historical continuous narratives are usually found on major state
monuments erected at government expense and the biographical data on votive
altars, statue bases and sarcophagi.
Although Roman historical monuments celebrated actual, historically verifiable
events, they were rhetorical rather than factual in content and style, designed as
much to impress and persuade as to convey information about the past. Starting in
204
the late Republican period, the Romans evolved a series of types and motifs that
glorified the individual and memorialized his deeds, resulting in a standardized
imagery of virtue and success. Constant repetition ensured that this imagery was
readily recognized and interpreted by its intended audience, resulting in what
Richard Brilliant has termed a “rhetoric of power,” a symbolism that, by Late
Antiquity, had little to do with historical fact.
9
Throughout the Roman period historical narratives continued to privilege
success in war as the most definitive criterion for status and fame. However, a
repertoire of ceremonies was evolved that accompanied, and eventually replaced,
scenes of actual battle. A similarly complex system of ceremonies was elaborated to
designate the virtues of the princeps and the benefits he bestowed on the populace.
Ceremonies related to war included the profectio and adventus, adlocutiones
delivered to the troops, the submissio of defeated enemies, clementia displayed to
the defeated, acclamations by the troops, triumphal sacrifices and processions. Civic
ceremonies focused on the congiarium and alimentum, the distribution of food and
money to the populace, public sacrifices and a variety of addresses to the people.
The ceremonialization of official art served to distance the princeps from the people
and elevate him to a god-like status. This endeavor culminated in the relief sculpture
of late empire, although it was evident even on early Imperial monuments,
restrained at this point by the memory of Republican ideals.
The second category of Roman continuous narrative comprises narratives on the
subject of Greek mythology and legend, together with the semi-legendary history of
205
Rome’s early beginnings. As conquerors of the Hellenized lands, the Romans
considered themselves entitled to exploit all aspects of Greek culture, including
their mythology, and free to adapt it for their own purposes. However, the action of
imitation provoked a feeling of disease, because the culture was, in many ways,
antithetical to Roman beliefs and traditions, resulting in a complex process of
inclusion and rejection.
10
As a consequence of Roman ambivalence, although Greek
mythology was freely introduced into Roman cultural production, it was
compartmentalized rather than internalized to become completely Roman.
11
In art,
compartmentalization took the form of favoring mainly Greek styles for narratives
featuring Greek mythology or hero cycles. The eclectic mix of Greek stylistic trends
used in Roman representations of Greek myth has been regarded as a Roman
innovation, resulting in a characteristically Roman form of art. Elements of Italo-
Etruscan style were generally excluded, being reserved for the narration of recent
history and biography, thus conferring a specifically Roman character on these
specifically Roman events. As detailed in Chapter 2, the compartmentalization of
style practiced by the Romans has been recognized by a number of scholars,
resulting in the stylistic divisions of “historical” versus “allegorical,” Republican”
versus “Imperial”or “plebeian” versus “patrician” styles.
12
Otto Brendel’s
classification of “historical” versus “allegorical” style acknowledged that variation
in style was premised on subject matter, but I have made the additional assumption
that choice of style was additionally predicated on the message that an encomiastic
monument was intended to convey. Sponsors who wished to evoke awe and
206
reverence in their audience chose the Hellenistic Grand style for their portraiture
and battle narratives, whereas honorees who wished to emphasize their devotion to
ancient Republican virtue opted for the plain and unsophisticated Italo-Etruscan
style. Visual celebrations of ancient virtues, either on public monuments or in a
funerary context, served to arrogate support for these virtues to the sponsor of the
monument or the owners of the tomb. In contrast to more recent history, the semi-
lengendary past of ancient Rome was usually presented visually in Greek style,
presumably in an attempt to confer the same high cultural status on these stories that
was enjoyed by the ancient history of the Achaeans, as told in the Homeric books.
12
The category of continuous narrative in Roman art that involved Roman
exploitation of Greek myth and legend may be divided into two subdivisions. The
first division, the use of Greek myth on public monuments and funerary
commemorations, had the same purpose as the historical and biographical
narratives, the enhancement of political prestige and the assertion of elite status. In
the case of the historical monuments this purpose was clear and unequivocal. The
use of Greek myths or the legends of early Rome demanded greater interpretative
input from the viewer, together with a familiarity with the story and its implications.
Myths employed for encomiastic or political purposes were required to have a
suitable allegorical meaning that could be applied to a current situation and permit
conclusions to be drawn concerning the actions or virtues of the sponsor. Angus
Fletcher has defined the basic characteristic of allegory as a double meaning,
underlying the surface praxis.
13
Greek myths were originally promulgated either as
207
an explanation of natural phenomena - thunder, the passage of the sun across the
sky or the rotation of the seasons, or, more commonly, required a moral exegesis of
the consequences of defying the gods. The combination of two or more myths on
the surface of a vase provided an opportunity for a paradigmatic connection
between two stories illustrating a common theme, but such connections are rare and
disputable in Greek vase paintings. However, a pendant relationship between
different myths and an extension of meaning underwriting a political purpose has
been recognized on certain Greek public buildings. On the metopes of the
Parthenon, for example, the mythic battles of the Greeks and their gods against
various uncivilized and inferior beings were employed to symbolize the defeat of
the Persians at the hands of the Greeks.
14
The underlying theme prefigures the
emphasis placed on moral and cultural superiority in securing victory that may be
seen on the Great Trajanic Frieze and other battle narratives of the Romans. An
additional political use of myth has been postulated for the mythic cycles of the
heroes, Herakles and Theseus, which were incorporated into political programs by
the ruling dynasts of Athens in the late 6
th
and early 5
th
centuries B.C. The
Peisistratids’ adoption of Herakles as an icon and protector of the house is espoused
by John Boardman, and Pausanius’ account (1.17.2-6) of the construction and
decoration of the Thesion by Kimon indicates clearly that he made a political
investment in the legend of Theseus.
15
These dynastic adoptions of legendary heroes
foreshadow Augustus’ adoption of Aeneas as the founder of both his family and the
Roman people.
208
The use of Greek myth for political purposes was possibly introduced into
Roman narrative art in the 1
st
century B.C. with the marine thiasos on the so-called
Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus, although Greek personifications were employed
considerably earlier. For example, two
winged Victories are to be found on a relief
fragment (Fig. 48), dated to the 2
nd
century
B.C.
16
Both their own gods and
personifications and those adopted from the
Greeks appear on 3
rd
century coinage, and a
personification of Roma dates from the
same period.
Allegorical personifications were prevalent in both Greek and Roman religion
and served to illustrate the place of man in the universe, his relationship with nature
and his views on what was important in the social milieu. The personification of
abstract concepts indicated the preeminence of humanity in both Greek and Roman
thought, and allegorical figures proliferated in Imperial art. However, a distinction
must be made between allegorical and mythic images. Allegorical figures are not
featured in mythic narratives and have no existence outside the symbolic
representation of abstractions. Roger Hinks affirmed that they were used on Roman
public monuments to represent aspects of character and personality and did not play
an active role in narration.
17
Figure 48. Victory Relief. Palace of the
Conservators, Rome. Photo DAIR
41.2317.
209
The direct use of myth and legend in political persuasion became popular in
Roman narrative art during the Augustan period and was a feature of the political
programs initiated by Octavian in his struggle with Antony. Mythological models
were used to attack Antony in both rhetoric and art.
18
Plutarch equates Antony and
Cleopatra with Hercules and Omphale, since Omphale emasculated Hercules,
removing both his lion head headdress and his club (Vit. Ant. 3.3) Clay bowls of
Augustan date, modeled on silver bowls of the same period, show Hercules/Antony
as an effeminate man, seated in a chariot drawn by centaurs and followed by
Omphale/Cleopatra in a second chariot, wearing his
headdress and wielding his club. The analogy of
Antony and Hercules was continued on a terracotta
plaque decorating the Temple of Apollo Palatinus
that was completed by Augustus in 28 B.C.
19
The
plaque (Fig. 49) is in Neo-archaic style. It depicts
the struggle between Hercules and Apollo for the
Delphic tripod, a transparent synonym for Antony
and Octavian’s struggle for Rome.
The three surviving representations of the early history of Rome that display a
conflated style also served a political purpose. They are from the early years of
Augustus’ principate, when great emphasis was placed on the legendary origins of
Rome. This focus was a result of Augustus’ claim to descent from both Aeneas and
Romulus, and it gained impetus from Augustus’ program of moral renewal, which
Figure 49. Terracotta Plaque.
Palatine Antiquarium, Rome.
After Kleiner (1992) Fig. 62.
210
was based on the morality attributed to the ancestors of the Roman people and
demonstrated in the actions of the early heroes of the city.
The second use of mythic and legendary subjects is the employment of Greek
myths for decoration in the private domain. Otto Brendel has pointed out that there
was a fundamental difference in Roman thought between res publica and res
privata, the former serving the needs of the Roman state and the latter catering to
the interests of the private individual.
20
This difference was reflected in the subject
matter of public versus private art. The Roman house was the focus of private life
and narrative art in the domestic sphere was largely restricted to the themes of
Greek mythology and legend, subjects suited, in Roman eyes, to pleasure and
relaxation from the cares of public office. However, the concept of Roman domestic
space as completely private requires considerable modification. Unlike the Greeks,
who conducted business and politics in the public areas of the city, the Romans did
not utilize their houses solely to provide shelter for themselves and their families.
The domicile served also as an office, where the paterfamilias received clients and
transacted business, and it was the primary site for fulfilling the social obligations of
entertainment required of the elite. Eleanor Leach has characterized the Roman
house as a framework for civic status, used to enhance both political and social
prestige.
21
Its decoration and appointments formed part of a mutually understood
code of communication whereby the owner conveyed to his visitors whatever he
wished them to understand concerning his status and his cultural interests.
211
In the Augustan era the architect, Vitruvius (6.5), explicitly stated that the
requirement for impressive housing was correlated with the requirement for
accommodating visitors, the number of visitors to the house being a function of a
man’s standing in the community. The common people did not need the grand
reception areas necessary in elite houses. They did not receive visitors, being
themselves the clients and suppliants of others, upon whom they attended. Bankers,
financiers and others of intermediate status and wealth required more commodious
and better decorated premises, while those of the highest class, the magistrates and
office holders prominent in civic life, needed expansive reception rooms, elegant
dining facilities, peristyles, libraries, picture galleries, gymnasia and basilicas, not
only to impress but to accommodate the public nature of their business.
It was also Vitruvius (6.5.1) who conceived the division of the Roman house into
public and private areas, portions of the house open to all comers or reserved for the
paterfamilias, his family and his invited guests. The major public areas included the
atrium and tablinum, the site where the morning ceremony of the salutatio was
conducted, the paterfamilias receiving the greetings and considering the petitions of
his clients. Private apartments consisted of dining and bathing facilities, smaller
reception rooms and bedroom suites, areas also employed for the reception of guests
but where admission was privileged, open only by invitation.
Building on the descriptions of the Roman house in Vitruvius and other ancient
authors and on the excavated houses of Pompeii and Herculaneum, Andrew
Wallace-Hadrill has divided the rooms of the Roman house along two axes of
212
differentiation, grand versus humble and public versus private.
22
Grand, public
spaces include the atrium and peristyle, while grand, private areas are those reserved
for the family, personal friends and important visitors. Wallace-Hadrill classifies the
rented shops on the street façade as humble and public, whereas the kitchens, work
areas and servants quarters are humble and private. As indicated by Vitruvius
(7.4.4) the decoration of rooms should be consistent with their function, dignified
and impressive in the grand, public areas, elegant and refined in the grand, private
rooms and poor or nonexistent in the humble portions of the house.
Vitruvius’ designation of private and public areas within the house recognizes
the dichotomy the Roman elite made between negotium and otium. Negotium was
active engagement in public affairs, whereas otium was the time that could be
spared from official duties. The enjoyment of otium functioned as a status symbol.
Membership in the upper economic classes enabled a man to have spare time and
also to possess the background that permitted him to fill this time with intellectual
and cultural pursuits. Only those with the luxuries of wealth, education and leisure
could enjoy artistic and literary pleasures.
23
It was considered laudable and an
excellent character trait to employ leisure productively, engaged in purposeful
cultural activity. Cicero (Off. 3.41.4) portrays Scipio Africanus as never so busy as
when he was at leisure, and Pliny’s letters ( 1.3.1-5; 3.1.1-12) provide us with an
account of his periodic retreats to his country estate, where he led an orderly life
devoted to intellectual pursuits and serious conversation. The implication was that
the upper classes deserve leisure, both as a reward for service and because they are
213
equipped to make good use of it. Otium provided an opportunity for elite Roman
contributions to literature and history and also for the appreciation of Greek art,
which, as conquerors of the Greek lands, was the undisputed possession of the
Roman people. The center in which the privilege of otium was exercised was the
private portion of the Roman house, and its decoration reflects the provision of
suitable subjects for relaxation and cultivation of the Greek cultural heritage.
The majority of the myths chosen by the Romans for either political ends or
decorative purposes had a moral dimension. Moralization of the myths was an
ongoing Hellenistic and Roman preoccupation. Already in the 5
th
century B.C.
Anaxagoras was attempting to find moral truths in Homer. The project was
approved by Aristotle and continued by the Stoics into the Roman era. Roger Hinks
opined that Roman moralization of Greek myth was divorced from the concept of
finding spiritual solace in myth and was undertaken for social ends, to be applied to
the conduct of society.
24
The visual representation of myth and its moral
interpretation served the purposes of both political propaganda and domestic
decoration in the Roman world.
For the discussion of monuments displaying the continuous narrative style a
chronological basis has been selected in preference to a categorical division. This
format has been chosen in order to emphasize the developmental aspect in Roman
deployment of the continuous narrative style. The fourth chapter reviews
monuments from the Republic to the end of the Julio-Claudian era, when
Republican ideals had the greatest relevance for cultural production. The fifth
214
chapter covers the later 1
st
and earlier 2
nd
centuries A.D., by which time imperial
rule was firmly entrenched, although the ideas of the Republic were still honored
and continued to exert an influenced on the production of art. The sixth chapter
reviews visual narratives from the remainder of the 2
nd
century, when the Republic
was becoming no more than a nostalgic memory, in the process of being displaced
by the ideologies of Late Antiquity.
215
Notes: PART II: Introduction
1. Castriota (1991) 184-6.
2. Castriota (1986) 26; Hölscher (1978) 315-57. David Castriota has suggested that
Near Eastern political art was adopted by the Hellenistic Greeks in order to
establish dominance over indigenous populations in familiar and acceptable
terms. The same motivation was influential in Roman political art and its
adoption of Hellenistic themes.
3. Pliny the Younger (Ep. 2.7.1-7) comments on the statue of a deceased young man
that was being erected by the senate. The man had excellent character and
achievements, and the reason for erecting the commemorative statue was to
encourage leading citizens to produce children, with the prospect of happiness if
they survived and a splendid consolation if they did not.
4. Pliny (Ep. 1.17). Pliny considers that the commemoration of famous men and
one’s own famous ancestors indicates a love of virtue.
5. Hölscher (1978) 315-57; Lahusen (1983).
6. Flower (1996) 55. Permission of the senate or people was required for the
erection of statues in public places, but unauthorized examples were increasingly
erected until the Imperial period. For example, Scipio Asiagenis erected a statue
of himself wearing a Greek cloak (Val.Max. 1.8.11) and the followers of the
Gracchi erected statues of both brothers. By the 2nd century B.C. Roman public
space was apparently so cluttered that the censors of 158 B.C. ordered the
removal of all statues not directly sanctioned by the senate or assembly. The
effect must have been only temporary, as the literature continues to record the
erection of statues throughout the late Republic.
7. Crawford (1983); Hannestad (1988) 24-34; Flower (1996) 79-80. The
iconography was similar to that of the statues, cuirassed or equestrian soldiers
indicating military success and togate orators standing for dignity. Symbols, such
as the curule chair, the fasces and the Roman eagle were also employed. Imperial
iconography on coinage was adapted from relief sculpture and statues in the
round.
8. Torelli (1982) 124. There is some overlap between the two categories,
particularly in the Imperial period, when even minor activities of the emperor
would have an impact on public affairs.
9. Brilliant (1986) 27.
216
10. Feeney (1998) 14-21.
11. Gruen (1992) 223-7; Zeitel (2003) 123-6.
12. Archaic, neo-Classical or Hellenistic Greek styles are the general rule for the
visual narratives of early Roman history and legend, except for rare examples in
the genres of domestic painting and relief sculpture.
13. Fletcher (1964) 4-5.
14. Castriota (1991) 17-9.
15. Boardman (1972) 57-82. The Theseion was constructed by Kimon as a
repository for Theseus’ bones, purported to have been discovered on Skyros. It
was decorated with scenes from the life of Theseus.
16. Hölscher (1988) 384-6. The relief is one of several fragments discovered in the
Piazza della Cosolazione in 1937. The fragments show triumphal imagery of
trophies, Victories and shields, and Tonio Hölscher has suggested that they are
from the base of a monument celebrating Sulla’s Mithridatic victories.
17. Hinks (1976) 15-6. See also Gombrich (1972) on the personification of ideas in
art.
18. Zanker (1990) 58-9. Messala delivered two lost polemics against Antony that
probably castigated both the decadent Dionysiac statues of Antony and his
florid, Asiatic style of oratory.
19. See Kellum (1993) 75-83, for the political context of the decorative program in
the Augustan Temple of Apollo on the Palatine.
20. Brendel (1979) 155.
21. Leach (2004)18-9.
22. Wallace-Hadrill (1994) 11-4.
23. Connors (2000) 509-18.
24. Hinks (1976) 123-7.
217
Chapter 4: Continuous Narratives of the Republic and Early
Empire.
The first great turning point in Roman history was the overthrow of the
monarchy and the establishment of the Republic in the late 6
th
century B.C. As
indicated in Chapter 1, extant narrative art from the early and mid-Republic is
sparse, being limited mainly to triumphal and mural paintings, most of which have
not survived. The single extant example of narrative relief sculpture from the 2
nd
century B.C. is not a continuous narrative. The frieze on the monument of Aemilius
Paullus, erected in 168 B.C. in order to celebrate his victory over the Macedonians
at Pydna, was executed by Greek sculptors in the Greek city of Delphi and is mainly
Greek in style. The sole surviving historical relief from the later Republic, the
census frieze from the “Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus”, is, however, a continuous
narrative and may have been influenced by earlier representations of civic events
painted on the walls of public buildings.
The Battle of Actium in 31 B.C. marked a second pivotal event, resulting
essentially in the restoration of the monarchy. Augustus, however, on assuming the
supreme leadership of the state, attempted to allay the fears of the people
concerning tyranny and the rule of one man by styling himself as princeps, the first
among equals, and retaining the trappings of Republican government. He sought to
ally himself with Republican ideals by renewing the ancient religion and instituting
a moral revival based on the virtues reflected in the mos maiorum. By so doing, he
218
set the stage for future emperors to arrogate to themselves the virtues of the
Republican past as an emblem of the right to rule.
Augustus himself chose to proclaim possession of these virtues, appropriate for
the designated leader who was destined to revitalize the Roman state, by adopting
the grave and dignified neo-Classical style for his official portraiture and for the
only extant Augustan example of recent history in public relief sculpture, the Ara
Pacis. This choice of style essentially ruled out a contribution of continuous
narration to elite encomiastic art, and conflated forms are represented only in
provincial and lower class art in this category during the Julio-Claudian era. An
investigation of the Altar of C. Manlius, an Italian provincial commemorative
monument from this period, has been included in the study. Although the style of
the narrative is synoptic rather than continuous, the altar exemplifies the persistence
of conflated forms in provincial art, a topic that has relevance for the endurance and
development of conflated formats in encomiastic art of the 1
st
century A.D.
Despite its omission from official narratives of recent history, major
developments in continuous narration occurred in the late Republican and early
Imperial periods. A conflated style was considered suitable for the stories of
Rome’s early history that were a feature of Augustan visual rhetoric, associating his
family with both the founder of Rome and the founder of the Roman state. In the
field of domestic painting the single panel type of continuous narration was
established for the first time. This form of narrative relied on an extensive landscape
background to integrate and unify distinct activities in the same story and also
219
introduced the inconsistencies in size and perspective that were a feature of later
Roman continuous narration.
The Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus.
The so-called Altar of Ahenobarbus is the first confirmed example of a visual
narrative in which the Romans employed the the conflated format to link disjunctive
episodes into a continuous story, a narrative in which these episodes combine to
emphasize a unifying theme. The sequence of scenes is designed to inform the
viewer of the success, devotion to duty and virtue of the sponsor. It is also the first
public biographical monument uniting continuous narration and the deliberate
election of a plain style with marked Italo-Etruscan elements. Choice of these
stylistic criteria reinforces the claims of the sponsor to the antique Roman virtues of
piety and duty.
The monument has been the subject of much controversy and has provided few
definitive answers. Sponsor, purpose and site have been debated without any firm
conclusion being reached, and the monument has been assigned dates ranging from
the 2
nd
century B.C. to the Augustan era.
1
The scarcity of Republican
commemorations is one reason for the interest displayed in the monument, but an
equally potent cause is that it features two anomalous friezes in close proximity,
with completely different styles and subject matter. The monument has been
reconstructed as an oblong base, with the two short sides and one long side
decorated with a marine thiasos, an account of the wedding of Neptune and
Amphitrite, in late Hellenistic style (Fig. 40). The remaining long side is devoted to
220
duties of the Roman censorship, in a style that has been characterized as stiff,
awkward, clumsy and influenced by mid-Italic art (Fig. 41).
2
The friezes were discovered in 1637 during excavations undertaken for the
purpose of building the Church of San Salvatore, close to the area of the Campus
Martius occupied by the Circus Flaminius. The friezes were removed from the base
and used to decorate the interior walls of the Palazzo Santacroce and, at a later date,
they were sold separately to the Munich Glyptothek and the Louvre.
A. Furtwängler, in 1896, was the first scholar to realize that the friezes were
derived from the same monument.
3
Filippo Coarelli verified this conclusion in
1968, from a study of the Santacroce archives that led to a revival of interest in the
monument, its site and its purpose.
4
The original proposal as to purpose was that the
monument represented an altar dedicated to Neptune. This idea was based on the
existence of a temple in the vicinity of the Circus Flaminius, excavated in the 19th
century and later identified as the Temple of Neptune erected in 200 B.C. by Gn.
Domitius Ahenobarbus. Scholars soon abandoned the conception of the base as an
altar because the estimated size of the monument does not conform to the
dimensions of republican altars. Recent studies agree that the friezes decorated a
base supporting a statue group, and efforts have been directed towards determining
the nature of this group.
5
The latest suggestion, accepted by the majority of scholars,
is that the base supported a commemorative statue group celebrating the
achievements of the specific individual whose tenure as censor is recorded in the
censorship frieze.
6
221
Subsequent discussions of the monument have focused on the identity of the
censor, considering the censors who held office from the late 2
nd
through the 1
st
century B.C. An additional requirement is that the censor should have achieved a
naval victory prior to attaining the censorship. This proviso is based on the
supposition that the sea thiasos was a symbol of marine victory and triumph in
Hellenistic art.
7
The earliest choice of censor was Gn. Ahenobarbus, censor in 115
B.C., and was based on his censorship and his association with the Temple of
Neptune, since he is not credited with any naval victories. Another possibility was
his descendant of the same name, who refurbished the temple and also won
distinction as a naval commander in the Civil Wars.
8
Later proposals have tended to
focus on Marcus Antonius, grandfather of Mark Antony and censor in 97 B.C., who
celebrated a triumph over the Cilician pirates in 100 B.C.
9
Stylistic differences between the thiasos and the census frieze make it unlikely
that they are the products of a single workshop. In addition, they are cut from two
different types of marble, the marble used for the thiasos being from eastern Greece
and the marble employed for the census frieze having an Italian origin. Possible
provenances for the thiasos frieze are either a contemporary commission from an
eastern Greek workshop or a more ancient Greek origin. The frieze shows evidence
that it was cut to fit a new location, so that the latter possibility is the most likely. A
recent proposal is that the thiasos frieze represents booty from a naval campaign,
used to decorate the base of a statue group celebrating both a naval victory and civic
achievement.
10
A final explanation for the linkage of the two friezes on the same
222
monument contends that the marine thiasos does not symbolize a naval victory but
signifies instead a secure and peaceful control of the sea.
11
In addition, the census
frieze does not refer to a specific censorship but consists of a generalized selection
of events related to the office as a whole, as a reference to stability and order in the
state. Erich Gruen believes that the monument was erected by the censors of 70
B.C., in order to celebrate both the reinstatement of the censorship after a thirteen
year hiatus under Sulla and the stable situation resulting from Pompey’s campaign
to clear the sea of pirates. He considers that the statue group supported by the base
need not have been a tribute to either the censors or to Pompey, who never held the
censorship, but was more in the nature of a symbolic celebration of peace and
stability on land and sea. If so, this monument was quite unusual for Rome of the 1
st
century B.C. Roman coinage of the 2
nd
century B.C. provides the last extant
examples of visual memorials to the glory of Rome that do not contain references to
an individual, and later Roman monuments in general seldom celebrated the
institutions of Rome in a generic fashion.
12
The sea thiasos is a typical example of the Hellenistic Baroque. The happy
couple, Neptune and Amphitrite, are placed at the center of the composition in a
chariot drawn by seahorses and are surrounded by Nereids, Tritons and other marine
creatures, the fluid, graceful lines of the marine frieze providing a sharp contrast to
the spare, stiff style of the census frieze. A further difference between the two
friezes is the use of conflated narrative on the census frieze, whereas the thiasos
adheres to the Greek unities of time and space. The census frieze contains two, or
223
possibly three, conflated scenes that are read from left to right. At the far left a
seated, togate man holds a large, open codex on his lap. Six similar books are piled
to the left of his seat. Before him a second togatus stretches out his right hand to
touch the open book. He holds tablets in his left hand, and the two men may be
interpreted as representing an official receiving the personal data and property
records of a citizen for the purpose of the census. Two additional togati are to the
right of the first group, one seated and the other standing. The second standing man
is also holding tablets, so we may assume that he, too, is involved in presenting
census data. His right arm is bent at the elbow and he points to the right with his
forefinger, as though indicating the succeeding scene.
13
These groups at the left,
representing the recording of the census, are separated from the central scene of
sacrifice by two foot soldiers, facing in different directions. The one on the left
looks towards the census scene, raising his right hand to his helmet rim, as though
shading his eyes, whereas the second soldier faces the sacrifice. Their back-to-back
placement indicates a break in the composition between census and sacrifice.
The sacrificial scene occupies the center of the composition. It represents the
suovetaurilia, the sacrifice to Mars of a bull, a ram and a pig that concluded the
lustration of the army and was performed by one of the two censors at the close of
the term of office. The central figure of the entire frieze is the censor, veiled and
laurel crowned, who stands frontally to the right of the altar. He holds a patera, and
is accompanied by three small attendants and two musicians. At the left side of the
altar is the frontally placed figure of Mars, the recipient of the sacrifice. He wears a
224
Hellenistic muscle cuirass, a kilt and double plumed helmet and carries an upright
spear in his right hand.
The sacrificial procession approaches the altar from the right, each victim
accompanied by an attendant. The bull, contrary to the usual order of this sacrifice,
is first in line and is enormous, taller than his victimarius. Two additional figures
are in a second plane behind the sacrificial animals. A laureate man, waving two
laurel branches, is behind the bull. Behind the ram walks a togate man, laureate and
veiled like the censor, and carrying a vexillum. The frieze closes with the
representation of three soldiers, two foot soldiers and an eques, who have the same
dress and arms as the two foot soldiers on the left hand side of the frieze. They do
not appear to be part of the sacrificial procession. The soldier on the left faces away
from the procession and the eques has his back to the viewer, his left hand on the
mane of his horse, as though he is about to mount.
All descriptions of the frieze agree that the sequence contains a conflation of
scenes, although there is disagreement as to whether two or three scenes are
represented.
14
The conclusion on the number of scenes depends mainly on whether
the sacrificial procession is regarded as a separate scene or as part of the central
sacrifice. The decision on whether the scenes should be regarded as a continuous
narrative depends on which of the togate men is thought to represent the censor.
Unfortunately, the heads of both the togate man at the far left and of the sacrificant
have been heavily restored, so that, if an attempt at portraiture was made, it cannot
be used for identification.
15
The sacrificant is universally recognized as one of the
225
two censors. However, according to some scholars, neither of the censors is
represented in the census taking scene.
16
The two seated men are described as
scribes or iurators, takers of formal oaths. Erich Gruen, however, proposes that the
man seated at the far left is the censor.
17
He is certainly the most impressive figure
in this section of the relief, and Gruen points out that, according to the lex Iulia
municipalis, the censor himself received information from the citizens. Since the
emphasis of the frieze is on a successful performance of the duties of the
censorship, it appears likely that the censor would be represented in all scenes
showing various aspects of these duties.
The decision as to whether the sacrifice and procession should be divided into
two scenes hinges on the question of whether the censor appears once or twice in
this section of the frieze. A standard method of representing sacrifice on Imperial
monuments is to show an altar at which the sacrificant stands, together with the
approach of the victims and victimarii towards the altar. To my knowledge, it has
not been suggested that this arrangement represents a conflation of either time or
place. However, the sacrifice on the census frieze is a suovetaurilia, the culmination
of a lustral procession of the victims, led by the sacrificant, and there is some
indication that the procession on the frieze represents a conflation of the lustral
procession and its conclusion at the altar. The two figures on a second plane behind
the animals belong to the lustral procession, the man waving laurel branches and the
togate man who carries the vexillum. The procession was led by the same censor
who conducted the sacrifice, and it was his duty to carry the vexillum.
18
It is,
226
therefore, probable that the censor appears three times in three conflated scenes, the
taking of the census, the sacrifice at the altar and the lustral procession. However,
the possibility must be acknowledged that the three scenes are generic and do not
designate a specific censor, in which case, in a strict sense, the frieze cannot be
classified as a narrative.
A further problem in the interpretation of the frieze concerns the choice of scenes
to which the two groups of soldiers should be assigned. The two soldiers on the left
function as a scene divider, one looking back towards the census scene and the other
turned towards the sacrifice.
19
The hand-to- forehead gesture of the soldier on the
left tends to demonstrate that he is viewing an event taking place at a distance, an
indication that the census and the sacrifice occurred in different places, so that a
conflation of both time and space is represented on the frieze. The gesture of the
fourth togatus, pointing towards the succeeding scene, provides a linkage between
the two scenes, implying that they are part of a continuous, temporal sequence of
events, scene two depending on the successful completion of the duties in scene
one. Inclusion of the soldiers in the frieze is an obvious reference to the purpose of
the census, the maintenance of the armies of Rome, and is indicative of the service
to the state performed by the two censors.
The soldiers at the right could be participants in the lustral procession, but their
poses suggest that they are not. The first soldier in the group is facing away from
the direction of the procession, and the eques is not mounted, as he would be if
taking part in the procession of the knights. Ann Kuttner thinks that the frieze
227
should be read left/right/center, attaching the second group of soldiers to those on
the left.
20
However, the three soldiers on the right appear to act as a coda, closing
the narrative and linking the three scenes, census, sacrifice and lustration, as a single
endeavor, the replenishment, purification and protection of the army under the
direction of the censors.
The style of the census frieze conforms with the “historical”. “plebeian” or plain
style and is markedly different from that of the exuberant and graceful thiasos.
However, Kuttner perceives similarities between the compositions of the two friezes
and categorizes coincidences in the posture, pose and position of both humans and
animals, even finding the flag of the census frieze to be reminiscent of the fins and
tails of the Tritons around Neptune’s chariot.
21
She proposes that the census frieze
was specifically carved to set up a series of oppositions between the two friezes,
consisting of Greek/Roman, war/peace, military/civic. virtus/pietas,
otium/negotium, florid/austere and mythic/historic. Given that the thiasos is an
emblem of military victory, these dualities exist, independent of any compositional
similarities between the friezes. The style of the census frieze has been regarded as
a deliberate choice of primitivism in order to convey an impression of dignitas and
gravitas in keeping with ancient Roman morality, the language of annalistic history
and didactic oratory.
22
The linkage of the two friezes represents a cooption of both Greek sculpture and
Greek myth to serve a Roman purpose, the designation of victory that results from
an austere Roman devotion to duty and pietas. Such an appropriation would be
228
regarded as the right of the victor, particularly if the thiasos was obtained as
manubiae from a successful campaign in the Greek east. Combining the thiasos
with a stern representation of Roman civic obligations may have been intended to
present an effective rhetorical statement of antithesis between pleasure and duty,
and between Greek decadence and Roman virtue as the ultimate reasons for Greek
defeat and Roman success.
23
Displaying the thiasos in the context of the attainment
of high office emphasizes the generosity of the sponsor and his donation of booty
for the enjoyment of the entire populace, so that the monument serves as a political
statement of achievement and success, triumph in war, completion of an exalted
civic appointment and benefices bestowed on the population of Rome. By placing
the two friezes on the same base, a linkage is established between the peace and
prosperity following defeat of the enemies of Rome and the institution of the
census, seen as underwriting the military strength of Rome and contributing to
future victories. The lustration and sacrifice ensure the continued support and
protection of the gods for Roman military enterprises, a protection mediated by the
censor himself. Continuous narrative contributes to the persuasive message by
combining the virtues and attainments of the censor to form a definitive and unitary
statement of duty, piety and commitment to the objectives and welfare of the state.
The Altar of C. Manlius.
A small altar of the early Imperial period provides evidence that conflated forms
of biographical narration were retained on some biographical monuments of the
early Empire, despite their absence from Imperial monuments. The monument is not
229
a continuous narrative, since the sponsor is not shown more than once in continuous
scenes. However, it is highly probable that it represents a synoptic narrative,
featuring two conflated scenes from the same story. The altar was discovered in
1846, in the ruins of the theater at Caere, associated with statues of Tiberius,
Claudius and other members of the Julio-Claudian family. The front of the altar
bears the inscription C. Manlio c.f. Cens. Perpet. Clientes. Patrono., indicating that
the altar was dedicated to C. Manlius, a censor perpetuus, by his clients.
The altar has been dated to the Claudian era by Erika Simon, although Mario
Torelli prefers an early Augustan date.
24
A garland,
hanging from bucrania, separates the inscription from a
sacrificial scene below (Fig.50). This scene delineates
the sacrifice of a bull at a small altar. The sacrificant,
togate and veiled, stands to the right of the altar, holding
a patera over the altar flames. Behind the altar a
sacrificial attendant pours from a pitcher and the head
and shoulders of a second togate man are sketchily
indicated. To the left of the attendant are a flute player
and a second attendant, who is carrying a mallet and a shallow bowl. The bull
occupies the left foreground in front of this attendant. He faces the altar, and his
head is pulled down by two kneeling victimarii, in order to receive the axe blow of a
popa on the left. The short sides of the altar are decorated with almost identical
Figure 50. Altar of C.
Manlius, Sacrifial Scene.
Vatican, Museo Gregorio
Profano. After Ryberg
(1955) Fig. 39 a.
230
representations of a Lar (Fig.51). Clad in a short, fluttering
skirt and holding a rhyton and a patera, he stands on a
rocky projection between two laurel trees.
The rear altar panel exhibits two conflated scenes (Fig.
52). They are divided symmetrically by the figure of a
goddess, enthroned on a rocky eminence. This scene
division does not extend all the way to the top of the
picture frame, so that the background is continuous from
one scene to the next. All attempts at identifying the events
shown in the two scenes have made the assumption
that they represent incidents in the same story. If
this assumption is correct, the panel is an example
of synoptic narrative, a conflated narrative with no
repetition of the protagonists.
The enthroned figure of the goddess holds a
cornucopia in her left hand and a patera in her
right, and her throne is at an angle so that she faces
slightly to the left. The scene on the left consists of
three women, veiled and wearing the stolae of
matronae. The nearest woman rests her hand on the knee of the goddess. A second
woman raises her left hand in prayer, while her right hand holds an object, possibly
a laurel twig. A third woman, standing on the left, raises an object aloft in her left
Figure 51. Altar of C.
Manlius, side panel.
Lar. Vatican, Museo
Gregorio Profano.
Photo DAIR 81.2874.
Figure 52. Altar of C. Manlius,
rear panel. Vatican, Museo
Gregorio Profano. Photo
DAIR 81.2875.
231
hand. The right-hand scene contains three togate men. The man on the left, nearest
to the throne, rests his right hand on the rocks of the pedestal and leans forward as
though watching events at the right. The man at the center faces forward but twists
his torso to the right, so as to place his hand on the neck of a third man, who faces
him at the right.
To date, no definitive explanation has been provided for the nature of the sacrifice
on the front of the altar, the identity of the goddess, the events on the rear panel or
the relationship among the three scenes. The interpretation offered by Mario Torelli
affirms that all three scenes represent different ceremonies involved in the reception
of a client by Manlius.
25
The scene on the right of the rear panel is interpreted as
the civil ceremony of acceptance, in which Manlius places his hand on the shoulder
of his prospective client in a gesture expressing power. The scene on the left rear is
considered to be a private religious ceremony, in which the family of the client
accepts the Lares of the new patron as their own. According to Torelli, the object
held by the woman at the far left is a statue of a Lar, and the goddess in the center is
Fides. The sacrifice on the front panel is to the Lares genialis of the Manlius family,
which now includes the client and his dependents.
The interpretations of the front panel proposed by Inez Scott Ryberg and Lily
Ross-Taylor agree that the sacrifice is to the Lares Augusti and the genius Augusti,
and the goddess on the rear panel is identified as Concordia.
26
Ross-Taylor proposes
that the scene on the right rear panel represents protection offered by Manlius when
a client is arrested for debt. The women at the left are supplicating Concordia to
232
affect reconciliation between the men at the right. Ryberg considers that the scene at
the right shows some form of civic disturbance that was settled by Manlius in his
role as censor. The scene on the left portrays the thanksgiving offered to Concordia
for this successful resolution. She postulates that the object held aloft by the third
woman is a statue of a winged Victory.
Interpretation of the scenes on the rear panel is greatly hampered by severe
erosion of certain key details, most notably the objects held by the two women in
the scene on the left and the right hand of the central man in the scene on the right.
The object held aloft by the woman on the far left can only be discerned as an
oblong shape with protrusions at the top. The existence of a number of early
Imperial reliefs in which statues of deities are held by worshippers does lend some
weight to the supposition that the object is a statuette, and the object held by the
woman in the center can be seen as slender and twig like.
27
The blurring of the
raised hand belonging to the man in the center of the right-hand scene makes the
nature of his gesture uncertain. He does not appear to place his hand on the shoulder
of the man to the right. Close examination reveals this shoulder to be completely
clear of any object, and the interpretation of Ross-Taylor that the hand of the man at
the center of the scene is placed on the throat of the third man appears to be correct.
This determination casts doubt on Torelli’s explanation that the gesture is one of
potestas, making the gesture more likely to be an expression of hostility, as
proposed by Ryberg. The stance of the third man corroborates this explanation, as
he rears his head backwards in avoidance.
28
233
The identity of the goddess is also speculative, as her characteristics are
compatible with a number of female deities or personifications. Torelli does not
adduce any specific evidence for calling her Fides. Ryberg and Ross-Taylor, who
both accept a Claudian date for the monument, have investigated the iconography
on coins and concluded that the statue is most compatible with Claudian
representations of Concordia and also with descriptions of the cult statue in the
Temple of Concordia Augusta, reconsecrated by Tiberius in A.D. 10.
29
Further
evidence for Ryberg’s version of the incident on the rear panel is provided by Livy
(9.46.6) and Pliny (NH 33.19), attesting that the successful resolution of civic strife
was an occasion for a sacrifice to Concordia. The accounts specifically mention the
presence of matronae and that the worshippers carried laurel twigs.
The presence of the Lares on the short sides of the altar provides an indication
that the sacrificial rite on the front panel involved the Lares, either the Lares
familiares of the Manlius household or the Lares Augusti. The bovine sacrifice
ensures that the rite does not represent the private offering of fruit and incense
conducted at a household altar. Torelli’s explanation requires that the rite should
involve Lares specific to the family of C. Manlius and he has invoked a sacrifice to
the Lares of the gens to which the family belonged, making the assumption that
such a sacrifice would be a Vota Publica, requiring an animal victim. However,
according to Wissowa, “there are no Lares of persons or groups of persons, and the
representation of the Lares is always associated with a place.”
30
It is difficult to
234
envision the members of a gens as being the sole inhabitants of a specific,
circumscribed locality.
An indication that the Lares on the side panels are intended to represent the Lares
Augusti is provided by the placement of the figures between two laurel trees, a
reference to the door of Augustus’ house, which, by a decree of the senate, was
adorned with a corona civica and flanked by two laurel trees. Throughout the
Imperial period most altars dedicated to the cult of the emperor’s genius featured
the corona civica and two laurels on one side of the altar. If the Lares were
represented, they were shown as statuettes carried by the worshippers. However, at
least two other examples of altars celebrating a sacrifice to the genius feature Lares
on the side panels, where they are shown standing between two laurel trees.
31
The Altar of C. Manlius, dedicated by grateful clients, was undoubtedly intended
to honor noteworthy achievements of the patron. It is probable that the sacrificant in
the scene of sacrifice is Manlius himself. If Manlius is indeed the sacrificant and the
sacrifice is intended, as appears likely, to represent a sacrifice to the genius of the
emperor, Manlius must have been a priest of the imperial cult, although the
inscription does not include such a designation. These positions, as sevir or
Augustalis, were generally held by freedmen, and C. Manlius was not a freedman,
as the dedication of the altar gives his filiation. However, according to A. M. Duff,
in some Italian cities equal numbers of ingenui and freedmen served as severi
Augustales.
32
It is also possible that the sacrifice on the front panel was offered to
some other deity, and is included on the monument as an attestation to the piety of
235
the patron. The Lares on the side panels must then represent the Lares familiares of
the Manlius household, a symbol of the protection afforded to his family and to any
client who joined his household. The inclusion of the laurels could represent an
expropriation of imperial iconography for private use.
It is not possible to provide a firm identification of the incident on the right rear
panel, although it may be inferred that it represents an episode in the career of C.
Manlius that demonstrated the fulfillment of his duties as either censor or patron.
Ryberg’s suggestion, an incident involving a civic disturbance successfully handled
by the censor, provides a plausible explanation, particularly when the scene is
linked with the thanksgiving offered to Concordia that concluded such an incident.
A narrative detailing successful fulfillment of a public duty would have greater
value for the enhancement of status and reputation than the more private obligations
of patronage favored by Ross-Taylor. It would be satisfying to explain all three
scenes on the altar as episodes in a single story, as Mario Torelli attempts to do.
However, as indicated above, there are a number of reasons for rejecting his
suggestions. The conflation of the two scenes on the rear panel does argue for their
inclusion in a synoptic narrative as part of the same story, a linkage which is
provided by the expositions of both Ryberg and Ross-Taylor. Nevertheless, the
possibility must be acknowledged that the scenes are related only in so far as they
are all represent encomiastic episodes in the life of C. Manlius and his family.
According to this interpretation the function of the sacrifice is to demonstrate the
pietas of the patron, the offering to a goddess indicates that this dutiful piety is
236
shared by the women of his family, and the final scene testifies to the fulfillment of
civic responsibilities.
Regardless of the precise explanation proposed to account for the details of the
three scenes, the monument indicates that encomiastic visual narratives of
individual achievement were adopted by members of Roman society in the early
Imperial period as a means for the enhancement of reputation and status. Conflated
narrative served the same purpose on these monuments as it did on later Imperial
monuments, an increase in the number of episodes that could be shown in a given
space. In Chapter 2 attention was drawn to conflation of the events of a funeral on
the Tomb of the Haterii and the use of internal ground lines in the funeral
procession from Amiternum, both monuments of the lower classes, from the Flavian
and Augustan periods respectively. The Altar of C. Manlius may also have
employed conflation to assert linkage between scenes that have a closer connection
than a mere recounting of separate and unconnected events in the life of the
honoree.
The Frieze from the Basilica Aemilia.
The Basilica Aemilia was constructed for public use in 174 B.C. by Domitius
Ahenobarbus Aemilianus. A continuous sculptured frieze circled the entire interior
of the building, situated on the entablature of the lower story.
33
The frieze
exemplifies a second category of continuous narrative, records retailing events from
the early days of Rome. It provides evidence that a conflated format was considered
237
appropriate as a means of indicating a pendant relationship among the distinct
episodes that constitute early Roman history.
The frieze is badly fragmented, but sufficient reconstruction has been possible
to allow identification of the subject
matter. Each distinct episode occupies a
single slab. The slabs are 3m in length,
and the dimensions of the building
indicate that it could accommodate sixty
slabs. It has been possible to identify the
subjects of only four slabs; the escape of
Aeneas from Troy; the building of a city,
either Lavinium or Alba
Longa; the rape of the
Sabines (Fig. 53); and the
punishment of Tarpeia (Fig.
54). The last two slabs are in
the best condition.
Stylistic criteria indicate a late 1
st
century B.C. date for the frieze, and it is
thought to have been installed in either 34 B.C. or 14 B.C., dates when the building
was rehabilitated.
34
The figures show clear indications of Greek influence and the
frieze was possibly an attempt at reproducing the grand sculptural style of
Pergamon. It has no background, and the figures exhibit exuberant movement. The
Figure 53. Rape of the Sabines. Frieze
from the Basilica Aemilia, Rome. Forum
Antiquarium. Photo DAIR 1939.722.
Figure 54. Punishment of Tarpeia. Frieze from the Basilica
Aemilia, Rome. Forum Antiquarium. Photo DAIR 1939.
721.
238
arms of the Sabine women are flung wide, the man to the right on the Tarpeia panel
lunges diagonally to the left and the draperies of the women float freely around
them. Some of the faces are classicizing, and the dress of the majority of figures is
that of 5
th
century Greece. This introduction of Greek style into Roman legend
probably represents an attempt to idealize ancient Roman history and raise it to the
status of Greek epic. However, there are also strong Italo-Etruscan elements in the
relief, specifically in the modeling of the figures, which are short and stocky with
overlarge heads. Disproportion and lack of grace are particularly evident in the
portrayal of the squat soldiers on the Tarpeia panel. It is not possible to determine
whether these lapses from Greek style were a deliberate intrusion of Romanitas or
the result of insufficient skill on the part of the sculptors.
The punishment of Tarpeia is the only scene in which all the figures have been
reconstituted. Those at the borders of the panel face inward, towards Tarpeia at the
center, delimiting the scene from preceding and succeeding events and providing
the only form of scene division. Despite the continuous sequence of undivided
scenes, Peter von Blanckenhagen has firmly excluded the frieze from consideration
as a continuous narrative, based on the lack of a both a continuous landscape
background and repetition of the protagonists.
35
It may also be argued that the
scenes on the frieze represent separate and distinct stories, so that it cannot be
classified as a synoptic narrative. Richard Brilliant, however, has asserted that the
incidents have a paradigmatic connection, since they illustrate a common theme, the
early history of the Roman state.
36
They form part of a larger assembly that gives
239
deeper meaning to the individual episodes, and the continuous format may have
been an attempt to invest these incidents with significance, as, taken together, they
constitute a history of the Roman people.
The choice of early Roman history to decorate an important public building
tends to implicate Augustus’ revival of foundation myths in its construction and a
use of this history to bolster Augustan social and political programs. It is probable
that the entire stories of Aeneas and Romulus were included in the sixty incidents
on the frieze, underlining Augustan claims to heroic and divine descent. A further
possibility is that these longer stories may have occupied more than a single panel
and featured repetition of the protagonist in undivided scenes. A precedent for such
an arrangement is provided by the frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii, to be
considered in the next section, where more than a single type of narrative
arrangement is featured in the same frieze. The rape of the Sabine women suggests
Augustan social policies advocating marriage and the production of children. The
efforts of the Sabine women to mediate between their new husbands and enraged
fathers is an illustration of concordia, which became a popular Roman virtue by the
time of the Late Republic, whereas the punishment of Tarpeia, who placed personal
adornment above loyalty to her city, functioned as an endorsement of the sumptuary
laws passed against excesses in dress and ornamentation. In toto, the frieze was
probably designed as a subtle form of propaganda for the new regime, flattering to
Augustus on a personal level and an endorsement of his social and political
programs. The source of the stories may well have been Livy’s or Ennius’
240
glorifying history, designed to attribute virtue to the earliest ancestors of both
Augustus and the Roman people.
The Painted Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii
The columbarium of the powerful Statilii family was excavated on the Esquline
hill in Rome in 1875. The rectangular tomb contained painted friezes on all four
walls.
37
These friezes are further examples in the category of conflated narratives
concerned with early Roman history. The subject matter was recognized by E.
Brizio, who first published the tomb in 1876 and determined that the friezes should
be read from right to left.
38
The friezes are 36cm high and bordered on all four sides
by a narrow band of deep red. The nature of the wall construction (opus
reticulatum) and the hairstyles of the women, with hair drawn into a small chignon
at the nape of the neck, places construction of the tomb in the late 1
st
century B.C.
Less than half of the frieze on the short, west wall is intact (Fig 55a). The scene
at the right shows men building a city wall,
in the presence of a female figure clad in a
long robe. The woman is standing to the
right of a pillar that separates this scene
from the next. The scene to the left
represents the final scene of the frieze, as it is bordered in red at the left. It contains
two warriors in Greek armor attacking a naked enemy, who is armed with only a
stick and a long shield. Wounded and dead enemies occupy the lowest level. The
city being erected on the west wall has been identified as Lavinium, and it is
Figure 55a. Frieze from the Tomb of the
Statilii, West Wall, Rome National
Museum. Photo Palazzo Massimo.
241
generally assumed that the lost portion of the frieze featured the arrival of Aeneas in
Italy.
39
The final section should probably be assigned to the battle occurring in the
succeeding frieze, as the warriors and their opponents are dressed and armed
identically to the combatants in the frieze on the south wall.
The frieze on the long southern wall is complete (Fig 55b). At the right, a
winged Victory, carrying a palm frond, is about to crown an armed warrior. To the
left of this group a bearded old man is seated. He carries a marsh reed and is semi-
naked, an obvious personification of a river. The initial event on the south wall has
been interpreted as the apotheosis of Aeneas, who, according to Dionysius of
Halicarnassus, (1.64.4), disappeared at the Battle of the Numicus River, either by
drowning in the river or by being assumed into the sky. A lively battle is at the
center of the frieze. Men in Greek armor engage enemies clad in short kilts or
loincloths. A bearded old man in a blue drape, similar in appearance to the river god
at the right, is seated on a rock at the left of the battle. The conflict terminates at the
left with a truce or peace treaty. The leaders, one with a round shield and the other
with a rectangular shield, meet face to face and clasp hands, their spears resting on
the ground. The reiteration of the river god indicates that this is the Battle of the
Figure 55b. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii, SouthWall, Rome National Museum.
Photo Palazzo Massimo.
242
Numicus River, between the Rutules of Ardea, led by Turnus, and the Trojans under
Aeneas, aided by the Latins and their leader Latinus.
40
The battle scene is continuous with a second scene of men building a city. A
draped female is seated at the left against a pillar. She is a personification of a city,
as she wears a turrita crown. Beyond the pillar is an indoor scene involving a group
of women, one of whom is seated at the front, and a single man, standing at the left.
The scene is damaged and the details are not clear. The city is thought to be Alba
Longa and the last scene has been variously interpreted. Possibly the most likely
explanation is that it represents Amulius ordering Rhea Silvia to become a Vestal
Virgin and belongs with the story of Rhea Silvia featured on the east wall.
The frieze on the short east wall has suffered the same type of damage as the
final scene on the south wall (Fig 55c). It is still possible to determine that the
continuous scenes tell the story of Rhea Silvia, the daughter of King Numentor of
Alba Longa. Numentor was deposed by his brother, Amulius. Amulius put to death
the son of Numentor and forced his daughter, Rhea Silvia, to become a Vestal, in
order to preclude any problems with the succession. Rhea Silvia, while drawing
water in a grove sacred to Mars, was raped by the god and gave birth to the twins,
Figure 55c. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii, East Wall, Rome National Museum. Photo
Palazzo Massimo.
243
Romulus and Remus. As a punishment for violating her vows of chastity as a
Vestal, she was either thrown into the Tiber or, according to the annalistic tradition,
was imprisoned.
The first scene on the east wall shows a group of seated and standing women at
the right and an enthroned man at the left and probably represents the installation of
Rhea Silvia as a vestal. The central scene features the encounter between Rhea
Silvia and Mars, taking place in a grove that is indicated by a single tree. The god is
at the left, advancing on the Vestal. The scene includes a winged female figure, a
reclining, partially draped male figure, probably a river god, and a nymph, carrying
a cornucopia as a symbol of fertility. The final scene has standing and seated
figures, both male and female, and may signify the condemnation and banishment
of Rhea Silvia.
A little over half of the long frieze on the north wall is intact, the remaining
portion being the right hand fragment (Fig 55d). The first scene has suffered
damage but appears
to belong to the
Rhea Silvia saga. It
shows a cloaked
woman standing at
the right and a young man, with his head in his hands, seated on a pile of rocks. The
scene possibly represents the imprisonment of Rhea Silvia. For unknown reasons
the scenes from the story of Rhea Silvia that form the east frieze and parts of the
Figure 55d. Frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii, North Wall, Rome
National Museum. Photo Palazzo Massimo.
244
south and north friezes appear to have suffered selective and purposeful mutilation
with a sharp instrument.
The remaining scenes on the north wall commence with the exposure of
Romulus and Remus on the banks of the Tiber, symbolized by a river god at the left.
A pillar acts as a scene divider from a scene showing two shepherds and their
flocks, together with the semi-nude figure of a woman reclining on a large rock. The
original interpretation of this scene was that it represented the adolescence of the
twins, growing up in the care of the shepherd who rescued them.
41
Rosanna Capelli
has challenged this interpretation.
42
In the sequence of events forming the legend of
Romulus, the suckling of the twins by the she-wolf is the most seminal and the most
frequently represented episode of all, and it highly likely that it was recorded on the
missing portion of the north frieze. It should, however, precede any representation
of the twins as grown men or adolescents. Capelli prefers to regard the shepherds as
Faustulus, who rescued the twins, and his brother Faustinus. The woman on the
rocks may be Faustina, wife of Faustulus, a female deity or a nymph.
The frieze contains Hellenistic motifs, winged Victories, river gods and
personifications of cities. Landscape and background elements are limited to a
single tree, rocks and indications of a river. The figure types are also Hellenistic, as
is the use of vivid, naturalistic color.
43
The battle scenes follow Hellenistic models
of vigorous action and contorted poses, although they are less crowded than typical
scenes in Hellenistic and later Roman relief sculpture. The painting has marked
similarities to the Esquiline tomb painting of the 4
th
century B.C., both in figure
245
modeling and use of light and shade for perspectival effects.
44
An additional
similarity is the interest shown in arms and armor, which is a persistent trait of
Roman battle art. As in 2
nd
century A.D. battle reliefs, there are no dead or wounded
Trojans on the battlefield, and Roman superiority in warfare is extended to their
distant ancestors.
The continuous narrative style is clearly employed, at least in the section of the
frieze on the east wall, the recounting of the Rhea Silvia legend. Rhea Silvia appears
three times in undivided scenes, and Amulius appears twice. It is this portion of the
frieze that forms the most integrated story, in which cause and effect, action and
reaction, are most evident and the Fates most actively at work. Conceivably the
undivided scenes of battle and building on the south wall may constitute a
continuous narrative as well. Ascanius may be featured in the battle, the truce and
the building of Alba Longa. The illegibility of the original identifying labels makes
it impossible to say for certain whether this section of the frieze is a synoptic or a
continuous narrative. It is also possible that the missing portions of the first and last
friezes may have featured continuous narratives. E. Brizio stated that the left margin
of the final scene on the north wall contained a trace of red paint in which the
outline of an infant’s hand could be discerned, which could indicate that the myth of
the Lupercal was depicted at the left, without the intervention of a scene divider.
45
The insertion of columns, which play no part in the narrative, is clearly intended as
a means of dividing one scene from another. On Trajan’s Column definitive
dividers, such as trees, mark a change in place from one topographic location to
246
another or delineate the elapse of a considerable time period between incidents, a
device that was initiated on the Telephos Frieze. The columns on the Statilian frieze
appear to fulfill a similar role to the columns on the Hellenistic frieze. A column
divides the building of Lavinium from the scene of battle on the west wall, a battle
which belongs with the later episodes shown mainly on the south wall. The second
column divides the first episode in the story of Rhea Silvia from the building of
Alba Longa, a story involving different characters, which took place at an earlier
time. There are no column dividers on the east wall, since all the events are part of
the same story and occur in a fairly close time sequence. The final column, on the
north wall, divides the concluding episode of the Rhea Silvia saga, the exposure of
the twins to whom she gave birth, from the subsequent history of Romulus and
Remus.
Within the continuous portions of the south and east friezes scene divisions are
not clearly marked. The frontal figure of the river god acts as a terminus for the
scene of apotheosis, as the first battling warrior beyond him is facing to the left. The
seated figure at the left margin of the battle, also assumed to be a river god,
performs the same function, demarcating the battle from the scene of negotiation.
The negotiator on the left faces right, and the first participant in the building of Alba
Longa faces left, providing a minimal division between the battle and its peaceful
aftermath. Scene division is even less definitive on the east frieze. The first scene
terminates with the enthroned figure of the king and an attendant, facing to the right
beside his throne. Two shepherds, who belong to the scene in the grove, hasten
247
towards the right, but look back towards the left. A nymph, facing right, together
with the reclining personification at the left, terminate the rape scene, while a
frontally facing figure initiates the final scene. Three sections of the frieze include a
single scene from a succeeding or previous story, which is separated by a column
from the principal narrative on the section. The battle on the west wall belongs with
the battle on the south wall. The final scene on the south wall features Rhea Silvia,
and the first scene on the north wall is also part of her story. This device forms a
linkage between the separate stories, as part of a larger history, that of the people of
Rome.
Despite similarities in style, the subject matter of the Statilian friezes is very
different from that of the frieze in the earlier Republican tomb excavated on the
Esquline. The Republican frieze was clearly intended to represent an historical
record eulogizing the deceased by praising his deeds. The choice of legendary
history does not fulfill this purpose directly. However, Peter Holliday has explained
the use of ancient history in a family tomb as a means of suggesting that the family
has an association with the antiquity of the Roman people and a distinguished
ancestry.
46
Recounting the stories of Augustus’ ancestors may have served the same
political purpose as the Aeneid, catering to the Augustan revival of the foundation
myths, particularly since the owner of the tomb was a close friend and associate of
Augustus. T. Statilius Taurus fought with Octavian and celebrated a triumph after
Actium.
47
The frieze may well be a copy of a painting on an Augustan public
monument, reproduced as a compliment to the princeps, or may have been
248
influenced by reliefs on a building such as the Basilica Aemilia. As on this latter
monument, the frieze from the Tomb of the Statilii demonstrates the utility of the
continuous format in linking scenes from disparate episodes in early history and
strengthening the implication of a pendant relationship among the different stories.
The device of placing a single scene from a previous or subsequent story on each
frieze is particularly effective in suggesting this paradigmatic association. In the
closely linked scenes of the Rhea Silvia story, the episodes from a single story are
joined to form a true continuous narrative.
The Decoration of the Roman House.
A second format for continuous narrative in Roman art, which is quite distinct
from the historical narrative friezes of the preceding sections, is the single panel
continuous narrative. This format has its genesis in landscape paintings executed on
the walls of Roman houses, principally during the last years of the Republic and in
the Augustan era. The single panel landscape is a development resulting from the
Roman proclivity for decorating the interior walls of their houses with mural
paintings. Archaeological evidence indicates that, as early as the 6
th
century B.C.,
houses in Rome employed painted stucco on inner walls.
48
Based on 19
th
century
excavations, the wall paintings of Campania were assigned to four manners or styles
by August Mau in 1899.
49
Although there has been considerable disagreement
concerning the chronological and stylistic boundaries of the four styles, they,
nevertheless, still provide a rough framework for the discussion and classification of
Roman wall painting.
50
A notable characteristic of all four styles is that they attempt
249
to foster an illusion that the spaces of a house are more spacious and its decorations
more costly than they are in actuality.
The First or “masonry” Style is derived from the decoration of public buildings,
palaces and temples in the Hellenistic east. Roman houses excavated in Delos,
Rome, Ostia and Campania that date to the 2
nd
and early 1
st
centuries B.C. are
decorated in this style, which features stucco walls painted to simulate marble and
other expensive materials. The Second Style emerged in the early 1
st
century B.C.,
when painters began to elaborate on the solid surface of the wall, with the addition
of impressive, illusionistic architectural elements, including columns, arches and
doorways. Later examples of the style, from ca. 50 B.C., opened up the wall by
showing elaborate vistas, seen through simulated openings in the architecture. These
vistas included both further architecture and gardens, providing the illusion that the
house was situated in a setting of considerable magnificence.
By the last quarter of the 1
st
century B.C. the Third Style was established, in
which panels mimicking framed paintings were placed in the central zone of the
wall, providing the major decorative element. Central zone panel paintings
continued to be the focus of decorative schemes in the Fourth Style. The framed
panels on Roman walls can be considered an imitation of the pinothacae established
in the houses of the wealthy.
51
After the conquest of Greece the practice of
displaying Hellenistic and late Classical paintings in wealthy homes is well
documented. In the Imperial period Greek paintings continued to be purchased and
shown in the private pinothecae or picture galleries of the cultured elite. We know
250
from Pliny (HN 35.1.18) that Hellenistic artists painted on framed wooden panels,
suitable for hanging on the central spaces of a wall. The similarity in the subject
matter of Third and Fourth style panel paintings to that of the paintings described by
Pliny, together with evidence for the use of pattern books in their construction, has
led to the assumption that the original models for these paintings were the
Hellenistic “Old Masters” displayed in Roman public and private buildings. Roger
Ling has concluded that iconographic formulae derived from Hellenistic
masterpieces were adapted and reinterpreted according to the taste of the period and
the requirements of the context.
52
However, the late 1
st
century B.C. also saw the
development of two genres of Roman wall painting that had few antecedents in
Greek art. These genres are landscape for its own sake and the single panel type of
continuous narrative.
53
The Antecedents and Development of Landscape in Roman Art
The emergence of defined landscape backgrounds facilitated the more extensive
use of continuous narration in Roman art when compared with the art of Greek
predecessors. It is noteworthy that a continuous landscape background is considered
a prerequisite for the continuous narrative style in classification systems of ancient
narrative art that place this style in a separate category, except for the system of
Meyboom that was based solely on Greek examples. The elaboration of such
backgrounds was one of the major Roman advances in narratology, and defined
background was a device utilized in continuous narration for indicating continuity
or division between scenes. In Roman painting, continuous narration is inextricably
251
linked with the importance assumed by landscape in panel paintings of the late
Second and Third Styles. These landscapes are by far the most common source of
continuous narrative in Roman painting, and the landscape itself makes a decisive
contribution to implementation of the continuous format. A fully elaborated
landscape background is rare in Fourth Style panel paintings, the majority of which
feature megalographic figures arranged against the limited backdrop characteristic
of Hellenistic art. In contrast, the genre known as the Third Style mythological
landscapes is characterized by extensive settings that assume an equal or greater
importance with the small human figures that are integrated into these surroundings.
The reasons for the popularity of landscape in Roman art, when compared to the
narrative production of the Greeks, has been investigated by Charles Dawson, who
enumerated two requirements for the successful development of landscape depiction
in the art of a specific time and place.
54
A society must have acquired an interest in
landscape for its own sake and must have the necessary skill to represent three
dimensional space realistically. Prior to the 1
st
century B.C. the representation of
landscape in art of the Mediterranean area labored under a lack in one or both of
these requirements. Art of Egypt and the ancient Near East made an attempt to
portray nature, but these efforts were hampered by a rudimentary knowledge of
perspective and an inability to locate objects in space. The device of successive
groundlines to indicate recession was the only significant advance in perspectival
rendering, and unrealistic variations in size and perspective were a common feature
of ancient Near Eastern art.
252
The paintings of Bronze Age Thera, from about 1500 B.C, were more successful
in providing a background for narrative art, but the grasp of perspective and relative
proportions was tenuous at best. There is no recession in space, and the lack of
consistent proportions is particularly evident in the “Flotilla” painting, where the
size of the inhabitants of the two cities is quite disproportionate to the size of their
houses.
Greek artists of the Archaic and Classical periods are noted for a lack of interest
in the natural world. On black-figure vases of the 7
th
and 6
th
centuries B.C.
representation of nature is limited to a few stick-like trees and rocks, or wavy lines
depicting water. Figures are arranged in a paratactic, frieze-like arrangement before
a blank background, so that actions occur in a non-space, a universal nowhere.
55
The Classical period saw an increase in the quantity of landscape but only a very
limited improvement in quality. More rocks, trees and buildings were added to vase
paintings, and Polygnotos disturbed the frieze-like arrangement of the figures by
situating them on undulating groundlines at various levels.
56
The paintings of the
late 4
th
and early 3
rd
centuries, the great age of Greek painting, are described by
Pliny in his Natural History but have not survived. Landscape is not mentioned
specifically, either by Pliny or by most other ancient authors who discuss Greek
painting, and Charles Dawson considers that only two paintings, both by Euanthes,
are likely to have featured a landscape background.
57
Extant remains of actual Classical and Hellenistic paintings are extremely rare
and limited almost entirely to a funerary context. The discovery of painted 4
th
253
century Macedonian tombs at Lefkadia, Kazanlak and Vergina has expanded our
knowledge of Greek painting and indicated that advances were made in the use of
color and light, in order to represent figures in space. However, there was little
advance in showing space itself. A single
example of a painting with a landscape
background has been discovered, a hunt scene
adorning the façade of a tomb at Vergina (Fig.
56).
58
Hunters and dogs pursue boars against a
background of a few barren trees, shown as
somewhat small in proportion to the human
figures, who continue to be the main focus of interest.
Other examples of Hellenistic painting on
grave steles and a number of small, marble
reliefs indicate some advances over Classical
depictions of space. Figures do not occupy the
entire pictorial space, in some cases more distant
figures are reduced in size, and details of setting
are provided. These characteristics can be seen
on the painted stele of Hediste from the early 2
nd
century, now in the Archaeological Museum at
Volo ( Fig. 57) and on a votive relief from the
same period in the Munich Glyptothek (Fig. 58). However, the figures in these
Figure 56. Hunting Scene. Tomb of
Philip, Vergina. After Ling (1991)
Fig. 2.
Figure 57. The Stele of Hediste.
Volo National Museum. After
Pollitt (1972) Fig. 62.
254
scenes are not integrated into the setting, and a lack
of spatial depth continues to be a feature of these
2
nd
century works.
59
The Telephos frieze is the only extant example
of a Hellenistic continuous narrative with a
landscape background, and the Hellenistic era must
be credited with the concept of utilizing changes in
a defined background to delineate changes in scene, in the context of the frieze type
of continuous narrative. However, as discussed in Chapter 1, in the elaboration of
landscape backgrounds the Telephos Frieze hardly advanced beyond use of the
occasional trees, rocks and pillars found in vase paintings of the Classical era.
From the available evidence, both visual and literary, it may be concluded that
the Hellenistic Greeks, although they showed a greater interest in setting and the
natural world than their immediate predecessors, did not develop landscape
paintings with an expansive view of the countryside. Settings did not include vistas
in the distance, which was invariably cut off by a wall, a curtain or a tree, leading
Erwin Panofsky to propose that “the very conception of the infinite was somehow
repugnant to the classical mind.”
60
The limited use of landscape in Greek art has
been recognized since the 19
th
century and ensures that Roman interest in setting
cannot be attributed directly to the Greeks.
61
The Etruscans, the second major
influence on Roman art, did show some degree of concern with nature, as evidenced
Figure 58. The Munich Relief.
Munich Glyptothek. After
Stewart (1990) Fig. 824.
255
by paintings in 6
th
century B.C. Etruscan tombs. However, these paintings, despite
evidencing a delight in the natural world, show no hint of spatial recession.
62
Whether their interest was stimulated by their Etruscan mentors, by lost Hellenistic
paintings or, as some scholars have asserted, was arrived at independently, the
Romans demonstrated a propensity to provide settings for narrative art
63
Both the
Assyrians and the Egyptians endeavored to locate visual records of their wars in
identifiable spaces, and it is very possible that the earliest Roman paintings of
battles and triumphs may have made a similar attempt. The first definitive literary
evidence of landscape in triumphal paintings is from the Imperial period, but the
lack of detailed descriptions in ancient authors does not preclude a much earlier
landscape component in triumphal art.
In the domestic sphere the first extant examples of landscape painting are
provided by vistas glimpsed through openings in late Second Style illusionistic
architecture. These views included both
architectural fantasies and gardens (Fig.
59). When, in the late Second and early
Third Styles, framed panels began to
replace architecture in the central zone of
the wall, the Romans evidenced a desire to
locate the mythological stories pictured on
the panels in a specific space. The early
paintings, from about 30 to 20 B.C., had fairly extensive architectural and landscape
Figure 59. Villa of P. Fannius Synistor,
Boscoreale. After Ling (1991) Fig. 27.
256
settings, with the figures reduced to one half or
one third of the picture height. However, the
figures remained the major focus of interest, and
the Hellenistic propensity for closing off the
distant prospect persisted, as can be seen in a late
Second Style painting of Polyphemus and
Galatea, discovered in the House of Livia on the
Palatine (Fig. 60), where a large rock dominates
the background.
Two non-narrative forms of Roman landscape painting that appeared in the later
phases of the Second Style show an unmistakable influence on development of the
panel type of continuous narrative. The so called “mononchrome” landscapes
consist of either friezes, placed above the Second Style decoration or in passages, or
of blocks inserted within the fictive architecture.
64
They contain groups of buildings
and people scattered across a featureless backdrop, painted in a single color, usually
white, blue or yellow. The horizon in these paintings is either very high or
completely lacking, so that the viewpoint should be from directly above. However,
the groups of buildings and people that are distributed across the painted surface all
have their own, individualized vantage point, most being seen at eye level. These
characteristics of variable perspective demonstrate an affinity with chorographic
maps and are a common feature of Roman continuous narratives with a landscape
background.
65
The subjects of the paintings include a variety of landscape and
Figure 60. Polyphemus and
Galatea. House of Livia, Rome
After Ling (1991) Fig. 113.
257
architectural elements arranged in small groups that show little or no relationship
between one group and the next. Humans engaged in various occupations are
associated with the buildings, but they are greatly reduced in size and sketchy in
execution, having almost the status of staffage figures. An example from the Villa
Farnesina in Rome, now in the National Museum, exhibits a villa on the banks of a
lake, with a fishing harbor
where men fish from boats
or the bank. (Fig.61).
Hunters and a traveler on a
donkey occupy the
foreground.
A second development in which landscape takes
precedence over humans also emerged in the late
Second Style. One element of monochrome paintings
was the rustic shrine and its worshippers. The
paintings known as the sacroidyllic landscapes
isolated this motif and placed it in the central space of
the wall, either framed or as a vignette.
66
The
landscapes were pastoral, consisting of a small shrine,
column or statue of a deity, set in a sacred grove (Fig.
62). Incidental figures and architectural elements
derived from the sacroidyllic paintings are frequently
Figure 61. Monochrome Landscape Panel. Rome National
Museum. After Leach (1988) Fig. 22.
Figure 62. Sacroidyllic
Landscape, Naples National
Museum. After
Blanckenhagen and
Alexander (1990) Pl. 24.
258
inserted in the Third style panel landscapes, and these earlier paintings may be
regarded as precursors of the fully developed pastoral landscape.
67
The Odyssey Frieze
The Odyssey frieze is the earliest, possibly the most impressive, and certainly
the most singular of the paintings on Roman walls that feature mythological or
legendary stories and continuous narrative. This frieze, now in the Vatican Library,
was found in a house excavated on the Esquiline hill, whose Second Style
decoration dates to about 50 B.C.
68
The frieze is, therefore, contemporaneous with
the initiation of the monochrome and sacroidyllic landscapes. The painting
encompasses the first known use of a fully realized and naturalistic background as a
means of delimiting scene divisions in a continuous narrative frieze. In addition, one
section departs from the frieze format to anticipate the arrangement in the single
panel type of continuous narrative found in the Third Style mythological
landscapes, a format which it predates by about forty years. There is evidence that
the frieze was copied, at least in part, from an earlier original, either Greek or
Roman. However, the frieze is completely anomalous in the context of know
Hellenistic landscape developments or contemporary Roman examples of the genre.
It indicates either that Hellenistic or Late Classical painting had progressed to the
point where it was possible to depict space realistically or that Third Style Roman
landscapes were anticipated by sophisticated Greco-Roman advances in the
representation of space.
259
The frieze occupied the upper level of a wall in a small oecus, above the Second
Style architectural elements. It is assumed originally to have covered all four walls,
but, when discovered, was partially intact on only one. The continuous frieze is
interrupted at regular intervals by illusionistic, painted pillars. These pillars do not
function as scene dividers. They do not coincide with the divisions between scenes
and, on occasion, bisect figures or obscure parts of the narrative. The wall contained
eleven scenes, of which seven survive well enough to be described. These scenes
are derived from books 10-12 of the Odyssey, and concern Odysseus’ adventures in
the land of the Laestrygonian giants and in Circe’s palace.The first five scenes have
a continuous landscape background, seen from a somewhat high vantage point,
consisting of wild hills and the sea. The figures are small in comparison to the
landscape and are rendered in a sketchy, impressionistic style.
69
Characters,
particularly Odysseus himself, are repeated more than once in undivided scenes.
The first five scenes show the following sequence; the arrival of Odysseus’ ships
in the land of the Laestrygones; an encounter with a Laestrogonian princess (Fig.
63); the Laestrygones gathering sticks and rocks for an assuault (Fig. 64); the attack
on the ships (Fig. 65); and the departure of the sole surviving ship, that of Odysseus,
for the land of Circe. The smooth flow of landscape from scene to scene is lost at
this point. In the next scene the viewer is looking at the courtyard of Circe’s palace,
an impressive building with towers and a colonnaded portico (Fig. 66). Within the
courtyard, Odysseus and Circe both appear twice, signaling an abrupt and illogical
transition to the panel type of continuous narrative style that now makes its first
260
documented appearance in Roman art. On the left, Circe greets Odysseus at a door
between two towers. At the right, Odysseus, leaning on his sword, confronts a
kneeling Circe after her enchantments have failed. The seventh scene is illegible,
and the continuous frieze format is resumed in scenes 8 and 9, which feature the
visit of Odysseus to the underworld, where he encounters the shades of figures from
myth and legend (Fig. 67). Scenes 10 and 11 are largely indecipherable.
Figure 63. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 2.
Vatican Library. After Leach (1988) Fig. 1.
Figure 64. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 3.
Vatican Library. After Leach (1988) Fig. 2.
Figure 65. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 4.
Vatican Library. After Leach (1988) Fig. 3.
Figure 66. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene 6.
Vatican Library. After Leach (1988) Fig. 4.
Figure 67. The Odyssey Frieze, Scene
8,9. Vatican Library. After Leach
(1988) Fig. 5.
261
The first five scenes of the Odyssey frieze are probably the work Peter von
Blanckenhagen had in mind when he defined the frieze type of continuous
narrative.
70
According to his definition, the continuous landscape can be
experienced by the viewer as though he is walking through it. The representation of
landscape in the frieze has advanced far beyond any previous Hellenistic examples,
including the Telephos frieze. Naturalistic representation of trees, rocks and the sea
is achieved, and the distant prospect is opened up for the first time. The high
vantage point is also unprecedented in Hellenistic art. Both Blanckenhagen and
Eleanor Leach have pointed out that the landscape by itself would present a
coherent picture, if the humans and animals were removed.
71
The colors are vivid
and naturalistic and the landscape enhances the story by contributing an
atmospheric component. The wild, savage scenery and boundless sea evoke nature
in the raw and the dangers threatening Odysseus and his crew.
72
The unique nature of the Odyssey frieze has evoked a variety of opinions as to its
antecedents and origin. Certain similarities to the Third Style mythological
landscapes, including the opening up of the background and the small size of the
human figures, have caused scholars such as Karl Schefold and Charles Dawson to
regard the frieze as a Roman creation and a predecessor of the mythological
landscapes of the Third Style.
73
Peter von Blanckenhagen, however, has made a
persuasive argument for the frieze having been copied in part from a major
Hellenistic painting of the 2
nd
century B.C., situated in a colonnaded public
building, an opinion shared by Roger Ling.
74
The reasons advanced by
262
Blanckenhagen are, firstly, the high situation of the frieze, which should be viewed
at eye level. The small size of the figures ensures that the high position necessitated
by the Second Style decoration of the room renders the story essentially illegible.
However, legibility was not a major concern in antiquity, and other small friezes in
Roman houses are equally unavailable to the viewer.
75
The contraction and abrupt
transitions of the latter part of the frieze are attributed by Blanckenhagen to a
condensation and adaptation of the original in order to fit it into the more restricted
space available in a relatively small room. The evidence for copying and contraction
of the frieze is compelling. However, it does not give any indication as to whether
the original was Greek or Roman, or whether it was situated in a public building or
in a more expansive domestic setting. The consistent perspective and proportions
have also been cited as evidence of a Hellenistic origin, although Eleanor Leach has
discerned that, particularly in the scene of the destruction of the ships, the horizon is
too high in comparison with the eye level view of figures in the foreground, and
figures on the rocks in the background are disproportionately small.
76
Ling has
drawn attention to the Greek labels and mistakes made in spelling as evidence for
uneducated copying of a Greek original.
77
However, labels on Roman paintings of
Greek legendary subjects were invariably in Greek prior to the late 1
st
century B.C.,
and spelling mistakes could equally well be attributed to a poor grasp of written
Greek on the part of either the original artist or an adapter.
The Odyssey Frieze has been related to the genre of legendary painting referred
to by Vitruvius in his list of subjects placed on late Second Style walls. (7.5.2).
263
After discussing the varieties of landscape subjects in Second and Third Style
paintings (see n. 67), he continues “in some places they put statues, images of the
gods or representations of legends, such as the battles of Troy and the wanderings of
Ulysses over the countryside, with other subjects taken from nature.”
Blanckenhagen considers that the “images of the gods” refers to the megalographic
mythological paintings, generally regarded as Hellenistic in inspiration, and that the
“wanderings of Ulysses” would, by association, also be Hellenistic in derivation, a
somewhat speculative conclusion. Both Blanckenhagen and Ling propose that the
original was in Magna Graecia, because the landscape of the frieze is reminiscent of
South Italy or Sicily.
78
Certain scholars have challenged the idea that the Odyssey frieze is copied from
a specific Hellenistic painting. Jerome Pollitt does not regard either the Nile Mosaic
or the Odyssey frieze as derived from some hypothetical 2
nd
century work.
79
He
considers them to be essentially Greco-Roman works of art produced for a Roman
audience, the natural culmination of landscape developments resulting from the
fusion of two cultures. Andrew Stewart thinks that the Odyssey frieze was
constructed from pattern books, according to the usual creative synthesis of
Hellenistic elements, and adapted to suit Roman taste.
80
This conclusion is
consistent with Roman approaches to the incorporation and adaptation of Greek
styles and subject matter into Roman works of art.
All discussions of the frieze agree that the scene in Circe’s palace is Roman in
origin, representing either a later insertion into a Hellenistic original or a scene
264
intrinsic to the original Roman conception. The conflation of two separate incidents
in a single setting is the first intimation of a new style of continuous narrative, and
from this point in time painters would be free to choose between two types of
continuous narration. The Odyssey Frieze, regardless of whether its origin is
Hellenistic or Roman, or whether it represents a synthesis of Roman and Hellenistic
ideas, constitutes a watershed for the subsequent development of continuous
narrative in Roman art. The major portion of the frieze extends the concept, first
introduced on the Telephos Frieze, whereby a continuously changing background is
synchronized with changes in both the time and place of the action. Scene 6
introduces the innovation of integrating two actions, occurring at different times,
within a single, unified space. In the Odyssey Frieze the two major methods utilized
in future examples of Roman continuous narrative are combined within a single
work of art.
Narrative Friezes in Pompeii
The panel method of continuous narrative dominated in Pompeian mythological
landscape paintings, but the frieze continued to be produced to a limited extent in
Second to Fourth Style wall paintings.
A second unusual frieze, painted at about the
same time as the Odyssey Frieze and almost as singular in its content and style, has
been classified by some scholars as a continuous narrative.
81
The frieze was
discovered
in 1909, in the Villa of the Mysteries, a well appointed Second Style
house just outside Pompeii.The frieze occupies all four walls of a large oecus,
interrupted by the main door on the west wall, a smaller door on the north wall and
265
a large widow on the south wall (Fig. 68). It consists of megalographic, almost life-
size figures and its content is considered to
be related to celebrations of the Dionysiac
cult. A viewer entering through the main
door is confronted by a youthful Dionysus
on the short east wall. He is sprawled on the
lap of a woman whose upper torso is
missing, but who is most commonly
identified as Ariadne.The god is accompanied on the left by a Silenus and two
satyrs. At the right a kneeling woman unveils a phallus and a winged female figure
raises a whip. The recipient of her blow is on the south wall, a kneeling woman with
bared back, who buries her face in the lap of a seated woman. Beyond the pair a
nude maenad dances. On the north wall a startled woman with a billowing cloak is
affrighted by either the vision of the god or the unveiling of the phallus.
The north wall appears to read from left to right. It commences with a veiled
female, walking towards the left. She approaches a seated woman, who is listening
as a nude child reads from a scroll. Beyond this group a woman carries a tray of
cakes towards a second seated woman, who draws a veil from a box as a servant
washes her hand. The ritual of lustration is succeeded by the intrusion of mythic
characters, a Silenus and a group of satyrs, followed by the startled woman in a
billowing cloak. A single scene is placed beyond the window on the south wall. It
consists of a young woman having her hair dressed in the six-lock coiffure of the
Fig 68. The Frieze in the Villa of the
Mysteries, Pompeii.
266
Roman bride, while a Cupid holds up a mirror. A second Cupid with a bow also
belongs to this scene, but he is situated on the west wall, beside the main door. On
the other side of the door a richly dressed matron is seated alone. All walls contain
an admixture of mythological characters and humans, and the arrangement of the
mural indicates to the viewer that it is intended to be read as an integrated whole,
since elements of scenes overlap from one wall to the next.
The frieze has a voluminous bibliography, both because of the high quality of
the painting and the enigmatic and unusual nature of the events it describes. A total
of seven megalographic friezes have been discovered in Pompeii, only one of which
has a style similar to the frieze in the Villa of the Mysteries. However, this frieze, in
the House of P. Fannius Synistor, is not considered to be a narrative.
82
The events in
the Villa of the Mysteries have no landscape or architectural background, and the
figures are modeled in an impressive Hellenistic style. As a result, in some scholarly
evaluations, particularly the earlier ones, the frieze was held to be a copy of a
prestigious Hellenistic painting involving some rearrangements and omissions,
made in order to adjust the original to the dimensions of the room.
83
Later
investigations have concluded that the scenes fit too neatly into the proportions of
the room for it it to have been designed for any space other than that which it
occupies, and the concept that the painting represents a Roman original is
reinforced by the use of stock figures and motifs that are widely disseminated
throughout the Greco-Roman world.
84
The prevailing consensus is that the frieze
267
was constructed by the synthesis and adaptation of Late Classical, Hellenistic and
South Italian elements, according to the usual practices of Roman eclecticism.
85
The interpretation of the narrative has not been so readily agreed upon. Gilles
Sauron has recently listed thirteen distinct interpretations of the painting and
supplied a fourteenth.
86
The Dionysiac elements and the nuptial connotations have
resulted in the most frequently adopted explanation, whereby the scenes represent a
prenuptial initiation into a cult of Dionysus/Bacchus. However, almost nothing is
known of Bacchic cultic practices. These rituals were successfully kept secret and
are very unlikely to have been publicized in a domestic painting.
87
Most recent
analyses associate the frieze with nonspecific bridal rituals that evoke Dionysiac
imagery and with a piety that Molly Swetnam-Burland has linked to the prevalence
of Bacchic worship in the public and private life of Pompeii.
88
John Clarke, for
example, has suggested that the scenes are drawn from tableaux originating in semi-
public festival processions of Dionysus.
89
The frieze has frequently been designated as a continuous narrative, featuring the
activities of the same woman in undivided scenes. She appears first on the north
wall, undergoes lustration, is affrighted by the unveiling of the phallus, suffers
flagellation, dresses for her wedding and is shown as a sober matron. This
interpretation was first proposed by Jocelyn Toynbee, who, despite the lack of
coincidences in dress and the absence of unequivocal portrait features, discerned a
sufficient relationship between the various portrayals to justify considering that
different activities were engaged in by the same woman.
90
The alternative
268
explanation, that the north wall depicted a single scene involving a number of
different women, was espoused by Margarete Bieber and Amadeo Mauiri.
91
The
interpretation of Toynbee has generally prevailed, although Roger Ling has pointed
out that the scenes cannot be read sequentially from left to right, as this would imply
that the vision of the god was accorded prior to the unveiling of the phallus and the
flagellation.
92
However, the order adopted places the most important Dionysiac
scene in a central position, where it is seen first by a viewer entering through the
main door. The proclivity of ancient artists to accord the central position to the most
prominent scene in a narrative will be discusssed further in Chapter 5.
Although the artist may have intended to indicate that the various ritual activities
were performed by the same woman, a critical question remains that must be
addressed before classifying the frieze as a continuous narrative. This query
concerns the problem of whether the frieze should be considered as a true narrative.
John Clarke has rejected the frieze as a narrative, designating it as a combination of
related images that occur throughout the Mediterranean world, an association of
human themes and references to myth and mystery religions.
93
The recent tendency
to regard the images as only loosely related reinforces this conclusion. Shoshanna
Kirk agrees with the assessment of the frieze as non-narrative and adduces the
combination of Dionysiac imagery with genre scenes on South Italian vases as a
source for the melding of myth and human activities in the frieze.
94
An example is
provided by an Apulian krater, showing, on the upper level, a reclining Dionysus
269
accompanied by nymphs and satyrs. On the lower tier a woman prepares to sacrifice
a goat, while a second woman bears an offering of cakes on a tray.
Thus the most recent scholarship on the frieze in the Villa of the Mysteries
rejects an interpretation featuring the story of an initiation into a mystery cult and
also casts doubt on the narrative content of the frieze. The frieze does, however,
indicate a Roman tendency to conflate multiple events in a frieze format and to
arrange them in a sequence that ensures a maximum impact on the viewer. This
proclivity achieved its fullest expression in the continuous narratives on Imperial
public monuments.
Two additional Second Style friezes in Pompeii have a definitive narrative
content, featuring the “Trojan battles” mentioned by Vitruvius as an element in
Second and Third Style decorations.
95
The two friezes, one painted and the other
consisting of stucco figures on a blue background, do not show advances over
Hellenistic examples of visual narrative. The painted frieze is in a partially
underground passage, a cryptoporticus, from which the House of the Cryptoporticus
derives its name. This small frieze is on the uppermost region of the wall and is
separated into sections by painted Hermes. The frieze is 3m above the floor and
only 34cm in height. In the ill-lit hall, its 300 feet of pictures would have been very
difficult to interpret, and the sequence of the story almost impossible to follow. The
poor state of preservation and the lack of complete publication at an early stage,
when the frieze was in better repair, make it difficult to determine the narrative
arrangement of the individual sections. It is possible that the frieze may contain the
270
combination of single scenes and continuous narration found in the Tomb of the
Statilii and postulated for the Basilica Aemilia frieze. The twenty five partially
recognizable episodes are drawn from
the Iliad, Aithiops and Iliupersis. The
figures occupy the entire height of the
frieze and are Hellenistic in style (Fig.
69). They are labeled in Greek, and the
scenes have a bare minimum of
landscape elements, arguing for a
Hellenistic derivation for the frieze.
The stucco frieze is in the adjoining house, which originally formed part of the
same dwelling. It is located in a sacrorium dedicated to Venus and Diana, where it
occupies three sides of an alcove (Fig. 70). The story is from the last books of the
Iliad. The figures are paratactic and
classicizing and there is no hint of a
background. The central wall has a
single scene, the duel between Hector
and Achilles. The side walls each
have two scenes. On the left wall
Priam returns the dead body of
Hector to Troy and Hector sets out to
meet Achilles in battle. On the right
Figure 69. Frieze in the House of the
Cryptoporticus, Pompeii. After Borda (1958)
Pg. 170.
Figure 70. Frieze in the House of the Trojan
Frieze, Pompeii. After Guzzo and d’Ambrosio
(2000) Pg. 134.
271
wall Achilles drags Hector’s body behind his chariot and Priam ransoms Hector’s
body. The scenes on the side walls are separated by representations of the gates of
Troy, so that they are not truly conflated. In addition, the sequence is not
chronologically correct.
Neither of these two Second Style friezes can be firmly associated with the
continuous narrative style, and they follow essentially Greek models with respect to
figure modeling and the minimal use of background. The same is true of two
additional friezes with Trojan subject matter, discovered in the Fourth Style house
of D. Octavius Quarto in Pompeii (Fig.71). The friezes are arranged one above the
other in a triclinium and are
visible from the dining
couches. The upper, larger
frieze follows the story of
Hercules’ dealings with King
Laomedon of Troy, and the
smaller frieze has scenes from
the Iliad. In the upper frieze
the scenes are divided by
pillars, but the lower frieze is continuous, except for the occasional insertion of a
pillar between scenes. The upper frieze has megalographic figures, Hellenistic in
style, whereas the figures in the lower frieze are somewhat reduced in size, and it
has some landscape elements
96
These Trojanic friezes, with their minimal interest
Figure 71. Friezes in the House of D. Octavius Quarto,
Pompeii. After Borda (1958) Pg. 247.
272
in landscape, have little in common with the Odyssey frieze. They bear a closer
relationship to the narratives of Classical and Hellenistic Greece, the vases and
Megarian bowls, than to the specifically Roman developments in continuous
narrative that were facilitated by concomitant developments in the depiction of
landscape. These developments included providing a defined background setting for
events arranged in the form of a frieze, enabling the viewer to distinguish between
successive actions that occurred not only in different spaces but also at different
times. In panel paintings an integrated background allowed two or more events to be
linked as part of the same story, by placing them in a continuous setting.
Continuous Narrative in Roman Mythological Landscape Paintings.
Roman production of continuous narrative in mythological landscape paintings is
centered in the panel paintings of the Third Style and has characteristics that are, in
many respects, the antithesis of those ascribed by Peter von Blanckenhagen to
Hellenistic narrative art. The majority are seen from a high vantage point,
permitting an expansive field of action.
97
The perspective is inconsistent, changing
from one section of the painting to another, and the relative dimensions of objects
are frequently inappropriate and incongruous. Landscapes feature the grandeur of
nature and human figures are shown as small and insignificant when compared with
the majesty of the setting. Although the details are usually realistically painted, the
changes in dimensions and viewpoint impart an atmosphere of mystery and
enchantment to the perception of the viewer.
273
The subject matter of the Third Style landscapes is exclusively Greek
mythology, except for a single known example recounting the Roman legend of
Rhea Silvia. The scenery is either wild and savage, featuring rocky peaks and the
sea, or it reiterates the pastoral idyll of the monochrome and sacroidyllic
landscapes.
98
Motifs are imported directly from these genres, temples and villas
adorning the background and shepherds, fishermen and travelers providing
spectators for the stirring events. Figure style varies from Hellenistic models in
miniature, found particularly in the earlier examples, to the sketchy, impressionistic
figures more common in later examples. It is Ronald Strong’s contention that both
these figural types are completely integrated into the setting, and, for the first time
in Greco-Roman art, actions take place within the landscape rather than in front of
it.
99
Charles Dawson’s exhaustive survey of the Roman mythological landscapes has
enumerated seventy six paintings in which landscape is a dominant element and
human figures of lesser significance. The earliest examples, such as the Odyssey
frieze, are assigned to the Second Style, and a few paintings are found as part of
essentially Fourth Style decorative schemes. A small number of additional paintings
have been discovered since Dawson’s study was published. Of these approximately
eighty paintings, sixteen (20%) exhibit the continuous narrative style. Dawson also
calculated that thirty five out of the seventy six paintings deal with only four
subjects, the stories of Polyphemus and Galatae , Perseus and Andromeda, Icarus,
and Actaeon.
100
Hercules and Hesione and Dirce are also popular subjects, but other
274
stories are usually represented only once in the houses of Pompeii and
Herculaneum. The stories may be divided on the basis of theme. The Roman
proclivity for moral tales is very evident in the popularity of stories presenting the
evil consequences of either presumption against the gods or transgression of the
Roman moral code.
101
The myths of Actaeon, Marsyas, Icarus and Dirce may be
classified in this category. A second, well represented group has a romantic theme
and includes the stories of Perseus and Andromeda, Polyphemus and Galateae,
Endymion and Hesione. Examples of continuous narrative are distributed among the
more popular themes, with only two paintings having unique subject matter. The
stories of Marsyas and Rhea Silvia appear only once, in continuous narrative form.
Unlike the frieze type of continuous narrative, single scene panel paintings do not
employ distinctive dividers that enable the viewer to identify successive incidents in
the story. However, the artists devised various methods to distinguish areas of the
landscape in which specific events occurred or else contrived to arrange episodes so
that their sequence is readily apparent. The first method was to use differences in
vantage point, perspective or lighting to segregate areas of the landscape in which
different events are taking place. A second method was to arrange events
sequentially on the slope of a hill, the sequence to be read either from bottom to top
or top to bottom of the slope. A final device was to adapt the landscape to resemble
that of a frieze by introducing a gradual change in background from one side of the
painting to the other. Two or more incidents could also be viewed simultaneously
275
by adopting a high vantage point or by inserting a second incident as a smaller
vignette within the space of the major incident.
Examination of some of the more popular themes in Roman mythological
landscape painting has been undertaken in order to assess the contribution made by
the continuous format to the overall impact and effectiveness of the narrative and to
investigate the methods employed by the artists in the construction of continuous
narratives. The painters appear to have borrowed from a variety of sources, both
Greek and Roman, and there is evidence that they copied from contemporary works,
either directly or from pattern books. In some cases, when two or more events from
a story are combined to produce a continuous narrative, monoscenic antecedents
treating the themes separately can be traced in Greek or Roman painting. In other
examples continuous narrative seems to be a de novo creation, with no known
monoscenic antecedents in Greek or Roman art.
Polyphemus and Galatea.
One of the earliest and most imaginative of the Roman mythological landscapes
is the continuous narrative from an Augustan villa at Boscotrecase, featuring the
romance of Polyphemus and the sea nymph, Galatea (Fig.72). This painting may
represent the initiation of deliberate inconsistencies in viewpoint and size that were
a characteristic of later Roman continuous narratives and is also an example of
distinctive backgrounds being employed to distinguish between two events that are
separated in time. The story does not lend itself to the continuous narrative format,
as it features only a single dramatic incident, and the continuous narrative from
276
Boscotrecase is made possible by combining the
romance with a second myth, related to the main
story only in so far as it has one of the same
protagonists.
The story of Galatea was unknown before the
5
th
century B.C., and seems to have originated in a
poem by Philoxenus, who was a poet attached to
the court of Dionysius, ruler of Syracuse. He was
condemned to the stone quarries for intriguing
with Galatea, mistress of the tyrant, and
composed a satirical dithyramb as a form of
literary revenge. It tells the story of Polyphemus, the Cyclops, who fell in love with
the fair sea nymph, Galatea. He gave up his crude and cannibalistic ways in an
attempt to please her, learning to play the lyre and dance.
102
The theme was taken
up by Theocritus as a subject for Idyll 6 and Idyll 11, and was later elaborated by
Ovid in book 13 of the Metamorphoses. Similarities to the setting described by
Theocritus for Idyll 11 indicate that this poem is the most likely source of
inspiration for the Roman painter of the Third style landscape. Polyphemus is seated
on a rugged shore with his flocks, and Galatea floats in the sea, riding on a dolphin.
The poem tells of Polyphemus’ unlikely passion and his rejection by the delicate
nymph. The only literary hint that the myth may have figured in Hellenistic painting
comes from Philostratus’ Imagines. He describes a painting in which the Cyclopes
Figure 72. Polyphemus and
Galatea from Boscotrcase. New
York Metropolitan Museum.
After Blanckenhagen and
Alexander (1990) Pl. 43.
277
are harvesting grapes. Polyphemus stands apart from the others under an Ilex tree.
He is gazing at Galatea, who rides the sea in a chariot drawn by four dolphins.
The known examples of the theme in art are all paintings from a domestic
context, produced in the late 1
st
century B.C and the early 1
st
century A.D. The
earliest painting is from the House of Livia (Fig. 60). It is Hellenistic in style and of
high quality. Polyphemus stands chest deep in the sea. Galatea is riding a sea horse
in the left foreground, and her attendant nymphs sport in the background. The
further prospect is cut off completely by rocks and a tree. The painting has no
known descendants and cannot be postulated as a Hellenistic predecessor for later
Campanian versions of the theme. No other painting shows Polyphemus in the sea,
where he is apparently acting out his desire, expressed in Idyll 11, of joining
Galatea in her watery domain.
A total of seventeen Campanian paintings are known on the subject of
Polyphemus and Galatea. Those that are still legible adhere faithfully to the
composition of Ployphemus on the shore and Galatea in the sea, riding on one or
two dolphins. Some variety exists in background and pose, particularly in the last
two paintings in Fourth Style houses. The Third Style paintings all have the pastoral
setting of Idyll 11. They are exemplified by the continuous narrative painting from
the Augustan era villa at Boscotrecase (Fig. 72) Peter von Blanckenhagen considers
this painting to be the earliest example of the theme after the representation of
Polyphemus and Galatea in the House of Livia. The villa at Boscotrecase probably
belonged to Agrippa Postumus, left to him on his father’s death, which dates the
278
construction to about 11 B.C.
103
This date would place the decoration of the villa in
the early Third Style, a conclusion in keeping with its style and content. The
Polyphemus painting and its companion painting were discovered in a cubiculum of
the elite villa, a room enjoying a magnificent sea view. The large panel shows a
naked Polyphemus seated on a rocky ledge that forms part of a promontory jutting
into a blue-green sea. He holds his pipes in his left hand and his pedum (shepherd’s
crook) rests against his right knee. Polyphemus is turned slightly to the left, his
single eye gazing out to sea. In the right foreground the promontory is connected to
a small island by a simple bridge. On the island a short pedestal supports the statue
of a woman holding a cornucopia.
104
Five goats are distributed on the island, the
bridge and the mainland. Galatea floats in the sea on the left, sitting on the back of a
single dolphin. She is swathed to the hips in a yellow garment and holds a billowing
blue scarf above her head.
105
A hill crowned with cypresses is behind Galatea, and
a small, pillared temple can be seen at its base. Occupying the promontory behind
Polyphemus is a tall column, supporting a bronze urn. At the right the background is
filled with towering, jagged cliffs that meld with the blue-green sky, fading into an
illimitable and mysterious distance. At the base of the nearest cliff a second, much
smaller Polyphemus is about to hurl a rock at the departing ship of Odysseus.
Peter von Blanckenhagen points out that the painting is not precisely a
continuous narrative because the two incidents, although they feature the same
protagonist, are from two different stories, a pastoral romance and an epic tale.
106
According to the definition adopted for this study, he is technically correct.
279
However, the intent of the artist appears to be to invoke the dreadful fate awaiting
the Cyclops, as a means of intensifying the pathos of his hopeless love. The
conflation of the two scenes is not arbitrary. It serves a narrative purpose, justifying
inclusion of the painting in the category of continuous narrative. The painting is
firmly based on Theocritus’ eleventh Idyll, which pictures Polyphemus seated on a
rock, gazing out to sea and features a landscape that includes bays, slender cypress
trees and a waterfall.
107
The distinction between the pastoral and epic episodes is
clarified by a division in the landscape background. The foreground and left
background of the painting are calm and pastoral, the Cyclops playing the part of a
lovesick shepherd, tending his flocks, playing on his pipes and singing of his
unrequited love. Motifs are imported from the sacroidyllic landscapes, a rural
shrine, a sacred column and a votive statue, all evidence for the world of men. The
Cyclops is more primitive than his setting, the remnant of an earlier age, described
in the Odyssey (9.191-2) as resembling the wooded peak of a high mountain. On the
right, his section of the painting is defined by raw nature, untouched by man before
the intrusion of Odysseus’ ship, a landscape of harsh beauty and untamed
grandeur.
108
The painting has the characteristics that have been noted as an accompaniment of
the continuous narrative format in Roman mythological paintings. Objects and
figures are painted with detailed realism, but perspective and proportions are
incompatible and incongruous. All the architectural elements and humans are seen
at eye level, regardless of elevation. The second Polyphemus is small in relation to
280
his representation in the foreground, a device employed by the painter to distinguish
major and minor themes. The statue of a goddess, which is closest to the viewer, is
also disproportionately small. No distinction is made between sea and sky, the blue-
green of the sea merging imperceptibly with a sky of the same color. The inability
to establish firm spatial relationships gives a dreamlike quality to the landscape, so
that the viewer enters an enchanted world where perceptions are constantly
changing.
109
The indeterminate quality of the landscape rationalizes the two
appearances of Polyphemus in the same panel, as events occurring in a dream rather
than in reality. This conclusion is reinforced by reference to Theocritus. In Idyll 11
the poet tells us that Polyphemus saw Galatea in the flesh a single time. Thereafter
she appeared to him only in his dreams and vanished when he awoke. The existence
of Galatea as an apparition in the mind of her would-be lover explains why she and
Polyphemus both look out to sea and appear completely unaware of each other.
Both the poem and the painting invest the monstrous giant with a degree of pathos,
arousing pity for his lonely existence on a barren shore and his dream of an
impossible love. The painting adds a further dimension of sorrow, presaging his
reversion to savagery and his horrible fate.
Peter von Blanckenhagen was of the opinion that the Boscotrecase painting is a
Roman original that not only influenced later Third Style panel paintings but also
initiated the deliberate use of inconsistencies in size and perspective.
110
If this
surmise is correct, the painter of Boscotrecase had an influence extending far
281
beyond domestic landscape painting to encompass important Imperial monuments
such as Trajan’s Column, as we shall see in the next chapter.
Unfortunately, many of the Third Style paintings on the theme of Polyphemus
and Galatea are too fragmentary or faded to permit a firm determination of their
relationship to the Boscotrecase painting. An early painting in Pompeii 9.7.16 is
reasonably intact and preserves the iconography of the Boscotrecase example,
except that Galatea is riding a seahorse and there is no trace of a second incident. In
Pompeii 7.15.2 the figure of Polyphemus is lost, but Galatea is on a dolphin, her
veil flying in a curve over her head. Two further paintings provide evidence for
progressive modifications of the theme in the Fourth Style. In the painting from
Pompeii 7.4.51 Polyphemus is standing at the left on a rocky foreshore, instead of
being seated on a rock.at the right. Galatea, mounted on a dolphin, is in the sea on
the right. She carries a palm leaf fan, has no mantle and is accompanied by a Triton,
while Eros holds a parasol to shade her head. A long, curved portico and a hill,
crowned by an elaborate villa, can be seen in the
distance, an obvious borrowing from Fourth Style
villa landscapes. A final large painting, in
Pompeii 7.4.48 (Fig. 73), has transferred
Polyphemus and Galatea to a completely urban
setting. Polyphemus sits on the left hand shore of
a bay, accompanied by a single goat, and Galatea
floats in the bay, riding two dolphins. The shore
Figure 73. Polyphemus and
Galatea. Pompeii 7.4.48. After
Leach (1992) Fig. 11.
282
on both sides of the bay is lined with a clutter of variegated buildings, juxtaposed
seemingly at random. In the distance a vineyard occupies the slopes of a hill. For
some reason the artist has decided to replace the anonymous incidental figures of a
Fourth Style architectural landscape with specific characters from myth, indicating
an adaptation of the original theme in Fourth Style paintings.
A painting of Polyphemus and Galataea that has an undeniable association with
the continuous narrative in Boscotrecase is situated in an oecus of the House of the
Priest Amandus in Pompeii (Fig. 74). It is readily apparent that the painting is
adapted from the original in Boscotrecase, but the
mood is completely different. Alterations in the
landscape and the poses of the protagonists have
succeeded in converting the bittersweet story of
unrequited love into an erotic romance and the
setting from a primeval, enchanted shore into a
more mundane and civilized sphere. The colors
are brighter and bolder and the luminous, misty
quality of the Boscotrecase painting is lost. The
towering, ominous cliffs of the epic section are
missing, the background containing only cypress
trees and an elaborate building, situated on the
left. Polyphemus is seated at the base of a single cliff, while his flock strays on the
shore of an island in the sea. Galatea rides her dolphin on the left. Both figures are
Figure 74. Polyphemus and
Galatea. The House of the Priest
Amandus, Pompeii. After
Blanckenhagen and Alexander
(1990) Pl. 58.
283
much larger in proportion to the pictorial space than they are in the Boscotrecase
counterpart. Polyphemus is turned to the right but gazes over his shoulder, directly
at Galatea. She, in turn, is oriented to the left, with her back to the viewer, but also
looks over her shoulder to meet the gaze of Polyphemus. Other changes in the
foreground are relatively minor. The column behind Polyphemus has lost its bronze
urn and the single tree has been moved to the front of the column. The statue on a
pillar has exchanged Fortuna for an ithyphallic Priapus, a more significant
alteration, hinting at increased eroticism.
A major difference is the elimination of the second Polyphemus, who does not
belong in this more civilized setting. However, the ship of Odysseus is retained,
floating in the sea to the right of the island. The meeting of gazes between
Polyphemus and Galatea indicates that the vision of Galatea is no dream. She poses
enticingly and her nudity is flaunted, her drape sagging suggestively to reveal her
buttocks.
111
However, in the House of the Priest Amandus, conversion of the
painting into a simultaneous narrative by including the ship of Odysseus indicates
clearly that the final outcome of the romance will not be happy. There is no division
of the landscape into epic and pastoral sections in this painting, and comparison
with the painting from Boscotrecase provides evidence for the contribution of
landscape to mood and atmosphere. Small changes in composition are subordinate
to alterations in landscape in the conversion of a dark tragedy into a romance and a
lost and mysterious realm into a pastoral pleasance.
284
Perseus and Andromeda
The paintings of Polyphemus and Galatea in Boscotrecase and the House of the
Priest Amandus were both accompanied by companion pieces illustrating the
romance between Perseus and Andromeda. This story is yet another of the popular
themes in Campanian landscape painting. The mythological landscapes contain
seven, or possibly eight representations of the subject, all of which have the same
basic composition. Andromeda is chained to a tall cliff, the monster is in the sea
below, and Perseus flies in to her rescue.
The story does not appear in extant literature before the 5
th
century B.C. but must
have been known earlier, as it is found on a Corinthian amphora from the first half
of the 6
th
century.
112
In the 5
th
century it appears in Herodotus, and both Sophocles
and Euripides wrote plays on the subject. The Euripidean version seems to be the
basis for most visual representations of the myth. In Euripides’ Andromeda,
Andromeda is the daughter of Kepheus, king of Ethiopia, and his wife, Kassiopeia.
Kassiopeia angered the Nereids by boasting that her beauty was greater than theirs.
The enraged Nereids persuaded Poseidon to send a flood and a man- eating monster
to plague the kingdom. The god Ammon advised Kepheus that the only remedy for
the situation was to expose Andromeda to the monster. Accordingly, Andromeda
was chained to a cliff beside the sea, to await the coming of the beast. Perseus,
flying home after killing the Medusa, chanced to see the fair maiden and fell
instantly in love with her. He negotiated with Kepheus for her hand, in exchange for
killing the monster. After Perseus had slain the beast with his harpe (sickle), he
285
released Andromeda and claimed her over the objections of a former suitor, with
whom he was forced to fight.
The story was well known in the Roman world, appearing in plays by Livius
Andronicus, Ennius and Accius, and was elaborated by Ovid. The story has been
traced by Kyle Phillips on Archaic and Classical vases, the Apulian craters of South
Italy and Etruscan urns.
113
A very elaborate treatment of the theme is featured in
Philostratus’ Imagines (1.29). The flying figure of Perseus does not appear on any
Greek vase, but a Hellenistic painting by Euanthes, described by Achilles Tatius
(3.7) in the 3
rd
century A.D., seems to have had an iconography closely similar to
the Pompeian paintings.
114
Andromeda, with arms outstretched, was chained to a
rock that was hollowed out to resemble a tomb. Perseus flew in to battle a monster,
whose head and open mouth could be seen above the sea. Little is known about the
painter, but speculation about his antecedents places him in the early 1
st
century
B.C. The first Campanian painting showing Perseus
flying to the rescue is from Pompeii 9.7.16, and it has
the gabled frame typical of the earliest Third Style
paintings (Fig.75). A similarity to the Euanthes
painting is readily apparent. Andromeda is chained to a
conical cliff, which has two trees growing from its
sides, one living and one dead and blasted. At her feet
are her grave goods, an open jewel casket, a basket and
a mirror. The monster is in the sea to the left, having a
Figure 75. Drawing of
Perseus and Andromeda.
Pompeii 9.7.16. After
Phillips (1968) Fig. 3.
286
long, scaled tail, horns and a feathered mouth. He spouts water at Perseus, who flies
in from the left, clad in a mantle, traveling hat and winged sandals. His harpe is in
his raised right hand, and he carries the head of the Medusa in his lowered left hand.
Six additional Third Style paintings appear to have the same iconography,
although some lack either Perseus or Andromeda, due to quite extensive damage.
The two continuous narratives in the series, in the Boscotrecase villa and the House
of the Priest Amandus in Pompeii, have the same compositional scheme but have
added a second scene at the right. The Boscotrecase example (Fig. 76) has the
melding of blue-green sea and sky seen in its
companion painting and the same luminous
quality and fairy tale atmosphere. Andromeda
stands on a ledge in the central cliff, her open
jewel box and a crown at her feet. A woman,
probably representing a sorrowful Kassiopeia, is
seated on a lower ledge in a dejected attitude. A
magnificent monster spouts water in the sea, and
Perseus, carrying harpe and Medusa head, flies in
from the left. At the right margin a vignette seems
to float in the middle distance. Perseus is shaking
hands with Kepheus, who has emerged from the
porticoed entrance to his palace at the head of a
Figure 76. Perseus and
Andromeda from Boscotrecase.
New York Metropolitan
Museum. After Blanckenhagen
and Alexander (1990). Pl. 43.
287
retinue. In the far distance at the left is a promontory, edged with cypress and
supporting dimly seen buildings.
Peter von Banckenhagen considered that the continuous narrative element of the
Perseus and Andromeda painting from Boscotrecase is far less successful than the
introduction of an epic theme to its companion piece, as it adds no new dimension
to the story and is essentially superfluous.
115
I believe that it does, however, enhance
the atmosphere of enchantment, opening a small, bright window in the vastness of
sea and sky, a window in which the viewer can see from the present into the past.
The inset also provides a contrast between the world of raw nature, mythic beasts
and magic, and the more mundane human world of agreements and marriage
contracts.
The painting does not possess the dark and mysterious power of the Polyphemus
painting. Blanckenhagen found it bland and proposed that it was mainly the work of
an assistant, acting under the direction of the Boscotrecase master, who, however,
reserved painting of the excellent monster for himself.
116
Blanckenhagen may have
been correct in his speculation about who performed the actual work. However, the
lighter, brighter atmosphere suits a romantic story with a happy ending and may
well have been a design of the master painter himself.
The painting of the theme in the House of the Priest Amandus (Fig. 77) has the
same increase in the size of the protagonists as its companion work, when compared
with the paintings in Boscotrecase. A chalky blue has again been substituted for the
luminous blue-green of the original. Some additional details have also been altered.
288
Andromeda is oriented towards the right
instead of the left, so that she gazes
directly at Perseus instead of out to sea.
The extent of the background has been
reduced, and there are no buildings at the
left.
117
The direct gaze of Andromeda and
the more mundane setting may be intended
to dramatize the story, so that it becomes
emotionally charged rather than
representing a timeless journey to an
enchanted world.
118
There is no hint, among
extant works of art, of scenes resembling the
secondary incidents inserted into the paintings of Polyphemus and Galatea or
Perseus and Andromeda.
119
The addenda were probably chosen by the Boscotrecase
painter as a means of enhancing the dreamlike quality of his paintings, transporting
the viewer to a world where anything can happen, past, present and future having
lost their separation and identity.
Daedalus and Icarus
The method for distinguishing separate events in a single panel continuous
narrative by a change in perspective and lighting is adopted for the sole
representative of the continuous narrative style that tells the story of Daedalus and
Icarus. This popular theme has been investigated extensively by Peter von
Figure 77. Perseus and Andromeda.
House of the Priest Amandus. Pompeii.
289
Blanckenhagen, who enumerated ten examples of the story in Roman domestic
painting and indicated how separate, monoscenic themes from the same story could
be combined in Roman wall paintings to produce a continuous narrative.
120
The Campanian paintings may be divided into two groups, those showing Icarus
already dead and those showing Icarus falling. The single continuous narrative
combines both major motifs. The theme of Daedalus and Icarus was not popular in
Greek art, but Blanckenhagen postulated that the earliest painting in the first group
is a close copy of a prestigious Hellenistic work from the 2
nd
century B.C., the
remaining three members of Group I representing increasing Roman adaptation of
this Hellenistic original. This early painting (Fig. 78) is from the Villa Imperiale, a
well decorated and relatively luxurious villa in
Pompeii. The panel has megalographic figures and
minimal landscape, sufficient only to convey an
atmosphere of stark desolation. The body of Icarus
lies on a narrow foreshore, framed by two towering
cliffs, between which a narrow vista of sea and sky
may be glimpsed. Seated on the right hand cliff is a
woman whom Blanckenhagen names as an Acte, a
personification of a cliff or promontory. She gazes
compassionately at the body below. Two additional
women can be discerned standing before the cliff at
the left, and Daedalus, seeking his son, flies above the water. The painting, dating to
Figure 78. Daedalus and Icarus.
Villa Imperiale, Pompeii After
Leach (1988) Fig. 29.
290
the very early Third Style, is of high quality. The modeling of the figures is
Hellenistic, the proportions and perspective realistic and coherent, agreeing with
Blanckenhagen’s specifications for Hellenistic visual narratives.
A second painting, from Pompeii 9.6.17 (Fig. 79), is of slightly later date. It
preserves the basic composition of cliffs, foreshore and sea vista and has the same
five figures in the same poses and positions.
However, the figures are considerably reduced in
size, and the landscape is more expansive and
detailed. Trees have been added to the cliffs and a
town on a promontory to the distant prospect. A
third painting, also from the Third Style, is similar
except that the woman on the cliff at the right has
been eliminated and the vista of sea and sky
replaced by a view of distant hills. The fourth and
latest painting in Group I is a small, square
painting from a house with Fourth Style decorations, where elements from the
second group, a temple and a fishing boat, have been added.
The second group of paintings has retained the flying figure of Daedalus,
searching the sea for his lost son. However, in all six paintings of the group Icarus is
falling from the sky above his father, and the chariot of Helios has been added to the
upper left hand corner of all but one of the representations. In the single example of
continuous narrative (Fig. 80), Icarus also lies dead on the foreshore. In this second
Figure 79. Drawing of Daedalus
and Icarus. Pompeii 9.6.17. After
Leach (1988) Fig. 30.
291
group the cliffs have been reduced in size or
eliminated completely, so that the prospect is
considerably enlarged, and a number of
additional features and spectators have been
added. The second group is far more variable
than the first, but all examples retain the figure
of Daedalus and have at least one Acte on the
foreshore. A constant addition is one or two
boats filled with fishermen. A city, presumed to
be Knossus, is present on an island or
promontory in five out of the six paintings, and a statue of Poseidon appears on the
cliff at the left in four members of the group. Various buildings, adopted from
monochrome or sacroidyllic landscapes, appear in most paintings of the second
group. Unlike the first group, where the horizon is relatively low, these paintings are
characterized by a high horizon, variable and inconsistent perspective and
anomalous proportions.
It was Blanckenhagen’s contention that the second group was based on a high
quality Roman painting of the Third Style, painted before 10 B.C.
121
The general
setting and the figure of Daedalus were derived from the Hellenistic original, but the
moment in the story chosen for representation was altered to the more dramatic
incident of Icarus’ fall, the landscape was enlarged by various additions and the
number of incidental figures was increased. Blanckenhagen considered that a
Figure 80. Daedalus and Icarus.
House of the Priest Amandus,
Pompeii. After Leach (1988) Fig. 32.
292
painting in Pompeii 5.2.10 (now lost and surviving only in the drawing, seen in Fig.
81) has most of the elements present in the Roman original.
The horizon of this painting is very high, and the chariot of
Helios is in the sky. Daedalus flies across the sea, and
Icarus falls precipitously above him. The city of Knossus is
situated on an island in the sea, and three fishermen view
the fall from a boat. A statue of Poseidon with his trident is
on the cliff at the left and two women stand on the narrow
shore. An additional Acte is seated at the right.
Blanckenhagen’s thesis that the two groups represent
adaptations of two distinct originals, one a Hellenistic painting from the 2
nd
century
B.C.and the other a Roman original of the early Third Style, is based on his
conception of differences in Hellenistic and Roman narrative style.
122
He asserts that
Hellenist visual narratives are characterized by realistic perspective, all objects
being viewed from the same low vantage point. In addition, the relative size of all
objects is consistent and naturalistic. The Romans were responsible for introducing
incoherent perspective that varies from point to point and also tended to correlate
size with importance, ignoring correct proportions.
Blanckenhagen included the
type of continuous narrative found in the mythological landscapes in his catalog of
illogical Roman innovations. Although only a single continuous narrative exists
among the ten paintings on the theme of Daedalus and Icarus, Blanckenhagen
considered that the remaining members of Group II are concealed continuous
Figure 81. Drawing
of Daedalus and
Icarus. Pompeii
9.6.17. After Leach
(1988) Fig. 31.
293
narratives.
123
In addition to the dramatic central incident, they refer back to both the
beginning of the story by the inclusion of Knossus and to the end by adopting the
figure of Daedalus searching for his dead son. The painter of the story in the House
of the Priest Amandus (Fig.80) chose to make the end of the story explicit by
including the dead body of Icarus on the shore. Although this inclusion makes the
entire painting illogical by Greek standards, it does rationalize the figure of
Daedalus, whose attention is directed downwards in his search, and who appears to
completely ignore the dramatic event taking place directly above his head.
The date of the continuous narrative painting is somewhat uncertain, but it was
probably painted in the early years of the 1
st
century A.D., in the middle period of
the Third Style. It is of high quality, comparable to the first painting in the Villa
Imperiale, and, except for the introduction of continuous narrative, may closely
resemble Blanckenhagen’s hypothetical Roman original. Roger Ling has quoted this
work as an excellent example of Roman visual incoherence in narrative landscape
painting.
124
It is also an example of variation in viewpoint and light intensity,
adopted in order to differentiate between two conflated events from the same story.
The upper portion mirrors the example in Pompeii 5.2.10, with the positions of the
figures reversed. The city of Knossus has also been altered from the left margin to
the right. The figure of Daedalus, assumed to be a direct quote from the 2
nd
century
B.C. Hellenistic painting, appears to be identical in position and posture. However,
this figure has suffered extensive damage in the continuous narrative example, only
the two wing tips remaining. The lower half of the continuous narrative is
294
completely different from the monoscenic versions of the second group. A second
boat of fishermen has been added, and the occupants of the two boats gesticulate
excitedly, pointing at the phenomenon in the sky. The cliffs have been completely
eliminated, along with the Acte seated at the right. The two remaining Acte stand at
the left, beside a tall column supporting a vase. One gestures towards the foreshore,
on which lies the small, crumpled body of Icarus, discovered by a traveler, the other
indicates the events in the sky. The sizes of figures and objects in this painting are
completely disproportionate to each other and to their situation in the landscape.
The figures of Helios and Icarus, high in the sky, are much larger than the
fishermen, who are close to shore. The Actae are larger than the dead body of Icarus
or the traveler, all of whom are on the foreshore, and Daedalus is largest of all, quite
out of proportion to his surroundings. Relative size may be related to relative
importance and to the desire of the artist to emphasize certain aspects of the story.
The figure of Daedalus dwarfs all others because the myth is his story, a tragedy
brought about by his defiance of the gods and the natural order. The horrible
outcome shown both above and below him is the direct consequence of his hubris.
The body on the shore acts as a coda to the drama above, its small size emphasizing
the pathetic aspect of the story. The Actae fulfill the function of spectators and also
draw attention to the action and its consequences, pointing to Daedalus and Icarus in
the sky and to the body on the shore. The traveler and fishermen serve as incidental
figures to add interest to the landscape, and their small size is in keeping with their
subsidiary capacity.
295
Variations in viewpoint and lighting function to divide the painting into visual
registers, reading from top to bottom. The light falls consistently from the right but
varies in intensity from section to section. The upper region, containing Helios and
Icarus, is seen head on and is lit with moderate brightness. The large figure of
Daedalus is brilliantly lit and seen head on, indicating his centrality to the story, and
the walled city of Knossus, also well lit, is seen from above, so that details of its
buildings are apparent to the viewer.
125
The fishermen are moderately lit and seen
from a slightly high vantage point. Figures on the foreshore are again seen at eye
level and the dead Icarus is poorly lit, the gloom and the small, crumpled body on
the shore emphasizing the pathos of an early death.
The proposed method of constructing the ten paintings of Daedalus and Icarus
involves adaptation of a prestigious Hellenistic or Roman original. Core elements of
this original have been retained throughout the series .However, adaptation and
expansion, which includes the addition of scenes in the continuous narrative style,
leads, in both cases, to distinct departures from the original. The paintings in the
Daedalus series that appear closest to a Hellenistic predecessor concentrate on
arousing emotion at the expense of narrative content. Emphasis is on the pathos of a
premature death and the anguish of a distraught father. Roman moralizing
tendencies resulted in the introduction of the second theme in the continuous
narrative painting, representing a crime and its punishment, the hubris of Daedalus
leading directly to the fall of Icarus, and the painting results from a combination of
principal themes from the first and second groups. This example of continuous
296
narrative encapsulates the entire story, its origins in Knossus, the flight itself,
symbolized by the excited fishermen, its consequences and the dreadful coda of the
dead body on the foreshore.
The literary and artistic origins of the Icarus myth have been extensively
debated.
126
The story was not popular in Greek vase art, and Dawson cites only a
single example, a late 5
th
century vase on which Daedalus is adjusting Icarus’
wings. The story is given in Euripides’ Cretans and also in Apollodorus. Ovid tells
the story twice, in the second book of the Ars Amatoria and in the eighth book of
the Metamorphoses. Ovid does not mention the dead body on the shore. The only
evidence Daedalus finds of his son’s fate is a wing floating on the water. In any
event, the inspiration for the proposed Hellenistic original could hardly be attributed
to Ovid, although the incidental figures added to the second series of paintings,
those attributed to a Roman model, have connections with Ovid’s accounts. He
mentions observers of the flight, a fisherman (Ars Am. 2.77-8), and in the
Metamorphoses (8.217-20), a fisherman and a plowman, who mistakes the flying
figures for gods. The story was well known by the 1
st
century B.C., and it is not
necessary to postulate a specific source for the paintings, although the addition of
spectators may have been influenced by Ovid’s account of the flight.
127
Diana and Actaeon
Two incidents in the popular story of Diana and Actaeon provided the focus for
two separate series of monoscenic Pompeian landscapes. As in the painting of
Daedalus and Icarus in the House of the Priest Amandus, the two incidents were
297
combined in single panels to produce a number of continuous narrative paintings of
the myth. Individual members of the Diana and Actaeon series show considerable
variation, attributable to similarly variable versions of the story in ancient literature,
and it is not possible to postulate a single, original monoscenic painting as a source
for each theme.
128
This varaiability provides evidence that the painters of domestic
wall paintings drew on a number of sources for inspiration, sometimes deriving
details from more than a single story. The earliest account of the myth appears in
Hesiod’s Catalog, where Zeus calls on Artemis to destroy Actaeon for his
presumption in aspiring to the hand of Semele. In Eurypides’ Bacchae, Actaeon is
turned into a stag and torn to pieces by his hunting dogs, as a punishment for his
boasting claim to be a better hunter than Artemis. The Alexandrian poet,
Callimachus, in his Bath of Pallas, first promulgated the version in which Actaeon
is an innocent victim. While hunting, he happened upon Artemis bathing in a pool
in the forest. His sight of the naked goddess violated the proscription of Saturn,
whereby it is forbidden for humans to look upon the gods when they do not wish to
be seen. His punishment followed at the hands of the enraged goddess, taking the
same form as in the Bacchae. Ovid’s Metamorphoses follows Callimachus in
making Actaeon the unwitting victim of circumstances. Later Imperial versions,
including those of Hyginus, Apuleius and Nonnus, following an unknown source,
promoted versions in which Actaeon was motivated by lust into deliberately spying
on Diana/Artemis. Confronted with a wide choice of sources, each artist presumably
298
chose to portray his own apprehension of the myth, resulting in a range of nuance
and interpretation.
The myth was a popular subject for Greek vase art from the 6
th
century through
the Hellenistic period. However, extant versions concentrate on the punishment of
Actaeon, usually in the presence of Artemis, and the nature of his crime is not
specified. In some cases the transformation into a stag has commenced, and horns
spring from Actaeon’s head. Actaeon encountering the naked goddess does not
appear in art before the late 1
st
century B.C., although Dawson speculates that it
may have been a subject for Hellenistic paintings.
129
Twenty one representations of this myth have been found in Pompeii and
Herculaneum. They were discovered in houses decorated in both the Third and
Fourth Styles, and, in contrast to the Icarus myth, the story of Actaeon appears to
have enjoyed equal popularity in both periods. Some examples follow the Greek
precedent of showing only the punishment of
Actaeon. These monoscenic representations, found in
both Third and Fourth Style houses, do not seem to be
based on a common precursor in either Hellenistic or
Roman style. One of the earliest versions, in Pompeii
9.2.16 (Fig. 82) has many of the characteristics of a
Hellenistic painting. The background is obscured by
two huge rocks and the portrayal of the two
protagonists is megalographic and Hellenistic in style.
Figure 82. Diana and
Actaeon. Pompeii 9.2.16.
After Dawson (1965) Pl. I.1.
299
Beside a stream in the shallow foreground, Actaeon is attacked by three dogs, his
transformation indicated by horns springing from his brow. Diana, fully clothed,
carrying her bow and accompanied by a third dog, peers from behind the rocks at
the left. Although content and style are compatible with an adaptation or copy of a
Hellenistic original, no other painting bears a close resemblance to this work, and it
cannot be postulated that it served as a general precursor for the theme in
Campanian wall decoration.
An unusual early painting of the punishment departs from the Greek precedent of
showing Actaeon under attack by his dogs. In a blue monochrome of the late
Second Style (Fig. 83), Diana and Actaeon are
shown on either side of an elaborate betylus
monument, which receives more detailed
attention than the two protagonists. Diana,
dressed in a short chiton and holding a spear, is
on the left. She is accompanied by a dog, and a
second dog is behind her, on the slope of a hill.
Actaeon is on the right, posed in a defensive
posture with raised right arm, but no dogs are in
his vicinity. Eleanor Leach regards the painting
as an experiment in adding meaningful figures to the typical Second Style
monochrome, where the usual concentration was on architecture or landscape and
humans were limited to incidental figures of travelers, worshippers or shepherds.
130
Figure 83. Diana and Actaeon.
Herculaneum After Blanckenhagen
and Alexander (1990) Pl. 51.3.
300
Six Pompeian paintings are monoscenic versions of Actaeon discovering Diana at
her bath. The basic elements of the composition are the same in all six, a naked
Diana beside a pool or stream and Actaeon peering at her from the rocks above.
However, the pose of Diana is not constant. In some cases she is crouching and in
others she stands erect, and the landscape background varies from expansive to
vestigial. All but one of the paintings are megalographic examples of the Fourth
Style. The single Third Style landscape is from Pompeii 9.7.16. (Fig. 84), a house
decorated in the middle period of the Third
Style.
131
The figures are greatly reduced in size in
comparison with those in Figure 82, but the distant
prospect is still obscured by towering rocks. The
foreground has been expanded and is watered by a
meandering stream. Diana crouches on the right
bank, her clothing laid aside on a rock. Her right
arm shields her breast, and her left arm is raised
towards Actaeon, who stands in the rocks above,
looking down. From his attitude, which is one of
immobile concentration on the scene below, it is not possible to determine whether
he has come upon the naked goddess inadvertently or is actively engaged in spying
on her.
The majority of Campanian representations of the myth are continuous narratives.
In ten paintings, both the crime and its punishment are included in a single, unified
Figure 84. Drawing of Diana
and Actaeon. Pompeii 9.7.16.
After Dawson (1965) Pl. I.2.
301
setting. Three paintings are megalographic, Fourth Style versions, showing the
naked goddess, with Actaeon being attacked nearby, in a minimal landscape setting.
The theme of Diana and Actaeon is unusual, as it continues to be represented in a
conflated format in Fourth Style narratives. Continuous narrative is rare in Fourth
style panel paintings, possibly because they tended to be produced by the adaptation
of Hellenistic originals. The Fourth Style continuous narratives of Diana and
Actaeon may represent conflations of two separate works, one featuring a bathing
goddess, either Aphrodite or Artemis, and the other being one of the numerous
examples of Actaeon’s punishment found in Greek art. An example of such a Fourth
Style continuous narrative is a painting in the House of Sallust (Fig.85). Diana
kneels in a grotto at the base of a rocky hill. A much
larger Actaeon defends himself from his dogs to the
right of the grotto, and among the rocks a very much
smaller Actaeon shades his eyes as he peers into the
distance. The relative sizes of the protagonists are
incongruous, and it is possible to trace how the
composition may represent the conflation of two
disparate paintings, with the addition of a small
figure in the rocks at the left. The two paintings are
poorly integrated and there is no continuation of landscape from one to the other.
The figure of Actaeon at the right has no background, in keeping with Classical
Figure 85. Diana and Actaeon.
House of Sallust, Pompeii.
After Dawson (1965) Pl. XIII.
2.
302
Greek representations of the subject, whereas the grotto on the left is found on many
South Italian vases with mythological subjects.
The two most elaborate versions of the myth are both Third Style continuous
narratives. The best preserved painting is in the House of the Orchard in Pompeii
(Fig. 86). The landscape is unified and events are
identified only by being set in different spaces. The
setting is a woodland clearing surrounded by
mountains. A brook runs at the left, descending in a
series of rocky cascades to the foreground, where it
turns to run to the right. In the lower right corner a
large tree shades a statue of Diana on a plinth. A
naked Diana crouches to the right of the brook, and
her discarded clothing can be seen on a rock. She is
very large in comparison with both the surrounding
landscape elements and the other figures in the painting. A much smaller Actaeon
appears twice, towards the center of the landscape. At the left he emerges from a
rocky arch in the hills, shading his eyes to view the scene below. At the right he has
entered the clearing and is defending himself against three dogs. Two additional,
somewhat ambiguous figures have been added to the painting. At the lower left a
woman, wearing clothing similar to that laid aside by Diana while bathing, leans her
folded arms on a short column. She must be considered as an additional rendition of
the goddess. Whether she should be assigned to events before or after the bath is not
Figure 86. Diana and Actaeon.
The House of the Orchard,
Pompeii. After Leach (1988)
Fig. 25.
303
clear. However, she seems to be gazing intently at the punishment of Actaeon, and
may represent Diana taking satisfaction in her revenge. A third figure, assumed to
be Actaeon, is bowing before the statue of the goddess at the right. Eleanor Leach
has suggested that Actaeon paused in his flight from the enraged goddess to plead
for mercy before her statue.
132
A further possibility is that the scene represents an
earlier incident, Actaeon invoking the assistance of Diana for a successful hunt.
The version described in the House of the Orchard is probably that of
Callimachus, in which Actaeon stumbles inadvertently on the naked goddess. The
second elaborate version of the tale is one of the few examples where Actaeon is
shown deliberately spying on Diana. It also displays a more advanced form of the
panel continuous narrative, in which individual scenes are placed in distinctive
settings. The painting is from the late Third Style House of Epidius Sabinus in
Pompeii (Fig. 87), and it survives only in the form of a drawing. A similar stream is
flowing down the left margin in a series of cascades, originating in the distant
mountains at the upper left hand corner. A temple, whose
votive offerings of spears and a bow indicate that it is
dedicated to Diana, occupies a central position at the upper
margin of the painting. It serves to mark a transition from
the wild, rocky landscape on the left to a peaceful, pastoral
scene, where goats and cattle graze. The right hand portion
of the scene is indicated as part of the civilized world by the
inclusion at the upper right of a porticoed villa, a tall tower
Figure 87. Drawing of
Diana and Actaeon.
House of Epidius
Sabinus. After Leach
(1988) Fig. 26.
304
and a statue on a plinth. Diana is kneeling by a waterfall in the course of the stream,
interrupted in her bath by the appearance of Actaeon in the temple. Actaeon is
actually within the temple itself, spear in hand to indicate that he has been hunting.
His penetration of the sacred precinct is a clear indication of his culpability, as he
has deliberately invaded sacred space. Below the temple a second Diana, armed
with a spear and wearing the clothing laid aside in the scene to the left, is
accompanied by a dog as she pursues Actaeon, driving him from her forest realm
back to the world of men. Here his fate overtakes him, and he is attacked by one of
his dogs at the right.
This painting, with its juxtaposition of civilization and wilderness, is the most
explicit illustration of the basic premise of the myth, namely that Nature, as
exemplified by Artemis/Diana, possesses arcane secrets men are not meant to know.
An attempt to penetrate these mysteries brings about its own retribution, and the
myth serves as a warning to mankind to confine themselves to their own sphere of
knowledge and action.
Peter von Blanckenhagen speculated that subjecting the panel paintings of the
Actaeon myth to the same type of analysis he performed for the myth of Icarus
would enable reconstitution of Hellenistic and Roman originals.
133
However,
investigation of the paintings on the theme indicates that there was probably no
single work, either Hellenistic or Roman, which served as an initial model for later
paintings.
134
It is highly likely that individual figures and groups were adapted
from a variety of Greek sources. The braced, defensive stance of Actaeon in the
305
punishment scene is found on Attic and South Italian vases, Etruscan cinerary urns
and free standing Greek statues. Charles Dawson has suggested that the figure of
Diana bathing was based on types more suitable for Aphrodite than for Artemis and
has proposed the crouching Aphrodite of Doedalsus as a suitable model for Diana in
many Pompeian representations.
135
The Story of Marsyas
The last category of continuous narrative landscapes, those in which the artist
arranged successive incidents on the slope of a hill, contains paintings with the
greatest number of separate incidents and the most intricate story lines. Arranging
characters on successive groundlines is one of the oldest of the devices employed in
narrative art for the purpose of increasing the amount of available space. It was
utilized in Assyrian battle narratives, reintroduced by Polygnotos in 5
th
century
Greece and appears in the Hellenistic relief of Archaloas of Priene. Situating
participants in an action at different vertical levels within a single, unified setting is
intended to convey to the viewer that these characters are arrayed on a slope. The
innovation introduced by the Roman landscape painters was the location of
successive events in a single story on the slopes of a hill, enabling more incidents to
be clearly visible than could be achieved by arranging them from left to right on the
same level. Two such continuous narratives are discussed by Dawson, both
representing the sole example of the theme in the mythological landscape paintings.
The first painting tells the story of the satyr, Marsyas. The source of the story is
uncertain. It appears in 5
th
century dithyrambs and was probably a subject for satyr
306
plays. The statue group by Myron indicates that the story was known in the 5
th
century B.C. It is found in Apollodorus, a 2
nd
century sculptural group and on a
single South Italian vase, where Athena is playing the double flute while Marsyas
holds a mirror before her. In the version of Apollodorus, Athena, having invented
the flute, discarded the instrument, because it distorted her cheeks when she played
it. Marsyas picked it up and quickly learned its performance. He then challenged
Apollo to a music contest, to be judged by the Muses. Apollo was adjudged the
victor and had Marsyas flayed for his presumption. The version in Pompeii deals
only with the preliminary incidents. The punishment meted out to Marsyas,
although included in a Hellenistic statue group, was left to the imagination of the
viewer.
The representation in Pompeii is in a cubiculum of Pompeii 5.2.10 (Fig. 88).
Athena is seated at the base of a pile of rocks, wearing
her helmet, with her shield propped beside her. She is
attempting to play the double flute, her cheeks puffed
with effort. Marsyas is poised above the rock pile,
observing the scene below. He appears a second time at
the base of a hill to the right of Athena. He starts to
ascend the hill, clutching an object assumed to be the
discarded flute. In his third appearance he is halfway to
the top, playing merrily on the flute. At the top of the hill
are a group of people, presumably the Muses and Apollo.
Figure 88. The Story of
Marsyas. Pompeii 5.2.10.
After Dawson (1965) Pl.
VIII. 1.
307
These people are appropriately smaller than those at the base of the hill. However,
all representations of Marsyas are the same size and are seen at eye level, regardless
of elevation. The landscape setting is quite extensive. At the base of the rocks is a
sacred gate, familiar from sacroidyllic landscapes. The top of the hill is crowned at
the left by a walled city, seen from an inappropriately high vantage point and
reminiscent of Knossus in the continuous narrative of Daedalus and Icarus. Further
buildings and hills are dimly visible in the far distance. This treatment of the
Marsyas myth is quite unusual because it must be read in two different direction,
from top to bottom at the left and from bottom to top at the right.
136
Both
Blanckenhagen and Dawson agree that the painting was probably a Roman
invention, a synthesis from a variety of sources that were combined by this specific
painter.
137
The Story of Rhea Silvia
The second painting that deploys separate scenes at various levels on the slope
of a hill is also unique, its singularity depending on its
subject matter. The painting, discovered in the Third
Style House of Fabius Secundus (Fig.89), features the
legendary origins of Rome, the story of Rhea Silvia
and the twins that appeared at about the same time in
the Tomb of the Statilii. References to Roman legends
and myths were very sparse in Roman domestic arts.
In Roman eyes, the division between serious matters
Figure 89. The Origins of
Rome. House of Fabius
Secundus, Pompeii. After
Dawson (1965) Pl. XVIII. 2.
308
of the Roman state and Greek artistic diversions extended to cover even events in
the distant past. The history of Troy was a favored subject, but the flight of Aeneas
was pictured in only two known frescoes, one of which is a parody of the other.
138
The painting in the House of Fabius Secundus is the only extant version of the Rhea
Silvia story in domestic painting.
In the painting events are read from the top to the bottom, arranged on the slopes
of the Palatine Hill. In the background is a more distant hill, crowned by the palace
of the king. A small temple occupies the right hand corner, placed highest on the
slope. Rhea Silvia is asleep to the left of the temple, and Mars, fully armed, flies in
from above left. Lower down the slope on the left is a second temple, before which
three men in togas confer, possibly deciding on Rhea Silvia’s fate. Still lower, at the
center, Rhea Silvia and an attendant, are being conducted away. At the bottom of
the slope is a pool. On its banks a man points out the wolf, feeding the twins in a
cave. Father Tiber is on a rocky pinnacle at the left, and he is matched at the right
by a female figure with outstretched hands. The chariot of either Luna or Helios is
above Mars in the sky.
Due to its faded state, the iconography of the painting is not always clear.
However, it undoubtedly tells the same story as the frieze in the Tomb of the
Statilii, the only major difference being that the domestic painting follows the
version given in Ovid, where Mars surprised the sleeping Rhea Silvia. The Tomb of
the Statilii favors the older version, in which Rhea Silvia was raped while drawing
water from a spring. In the painting, distance from the viewer is not taken into
309
account, either in the size of the figures or in viewpoint, all figures being
approximately the same size and viewed at eye level.
The Punishment of Dirce
The employment of a hill, used as a compositional device to enable more
incidents to be viewed unambiguously, can also be seen in a painting from the
House of Julius Polybius in Pompeii. The painting was published after Charles
Dawson completed his account of the Roman mythological landscapes, and it is not
included in his total of five mythological landscapes featuring the Punishment of
Dirce. The primary source for all the paintings appears to have been Eurpides’
Antiope, which has come down to us in a summary by Hyginus (Fab. 7 and 8). This
play was one of the most popular and best known of all Euripides’ works. It was
translated into Latin by Pacuvius, and, according to Cicero ( Fin. 1.2.4), both
versions were performed in 1
st
century B.C. Rome. In the version given by Hyginus,
Antiope, daughter of the king of Thebes, was seduced by Zeus and bore twin sons,
Zethus and Amphion. They were exposed on Mount Cithaeron but were rescued by
a shepherd, who raised them. Driven by shame, the king committed suicide, but he
adjured his successor, his brother Lycus, to punish Antiope. Lycus and his wife,
Dirce, abused and imprisoned Antiope until she managed to escape. She found her
sons by chance and appealed to them for help. They, however, not believing her
story, rejected her, and she was recaptured by Dirce, who had come to the
countryside to participate in the rites of Dionysus. Upon obtaining confirmation for
Antiope’s story from the shepherd, Zethus and Amphion rescued their mother from
310
the Dionysiac procession and punished Dirce for her inhumanity by tying her to the
sacrificial bull. Lycus was also pursued but was rescued through the intervention of
Hermes. Amphion, according to Zeus’ decree, became king of Thebes and
magically raised new walls for the city by playing the stones into place with his
lyre.
Artistic representation of the myth prior to the 1
st
century B.C. is quite prolific
and includes coins, cameos, Volterran urns and two South Italian vases, in addition
to the statue group known as the Farnese Bull (Fig.90). This group is a Roman copy
of a Hellenistic original, usually identified with the 2
nd
century B.C. sculpture attributed by Pliny (HN 36.34)
to Apollodorus and Tauriscus of Rhodes. The Roman
copy, excavated from the Baths of Caracalla and now
in the National Museum at Rome, shows Zethus and
Amphion binding Dirce to the bull, and the original
has been considered the inspiration for all
representations of this theme.
139
The dramatic punishment of Dirce is the climactic episode in the myth, and,
without exception, visual representations focus on this event. The punishment may
be divided into two distinct phases, the struggle of the twins to subdue the bull and
bind Dirce securely and the actual dragging of the unfortunate woman to her death.
Heide Lauter-Bufe proposes that the group of Campanian paintings concentrating
on the earlier incident are modeled on the original of the Farnese Bull, whereas the
Figure 90. The Farnese Bull.
Naples National Museum.
After Leach (1986) Pl. 52.
311
second group, in which the binding is complete and the bull is released, are based
on a painting that predates the sculpture.
140
Eleanor Leach has also suggested that
the paintings may be equated with a common source that served as a model.
141
Investigation of the paintings that belong to the two groups reveals a very broad
similarity in composition and iconography within a group but considerable variation
in the details.
Eight paintings featuring the Punishment of Dirce have been recovered from
Pompeii and Herculaneum. Two of these are megalographic representations from
the late Third and late Fourth Styles respectively. The remainder are Third style
mythological landscapes, three of which are in the continuous narrative style. Three
of the paintings show the attempt to bind Dirce to the bull, and in an equal number
Dirce is dragged by the bull. In two paintings Dirce is already attached to the bull,
but it is standing placidly among a crowd of onlookers.
In the first category, the struggle to subdue the bull, paintings follow the
Farnese Bull in grouping the two brothers, Dirce and the bull at the center of the
composition. In the sculptural group, the brother identified by Leach as Zethus
grasps the left horn of the rearing bull with his right hand and holds the muzzle with
his left, while Amphion attempts to restrain the animal with a rope tied to its right
horn.
142
Zethus is at the head of the bull, facing left, and Amphion stands towards
its rear, facing right. Dirce sprawls on a rock, almost beneath the hooves of the bull,
her torso twisted to the right, her left arm raised but not yet bound, her right leg
trailing on the ground and her left leg bent at the knee to hang down from the rock.
312
In the first painting on the subject, from the House of the Atrium Mosaic in
Herculaneum (Fig. 91), Zethus and Amphion are attempting to attach ropes to the
bull, after having bound Dirce. Zethus is standing at
the head of the rearing bull and Amphion is at his
tail. The bull faces right and Dirce reclines on the
ground with upraised right arm, her head to the right
and her feet to the left. The binding takes place on
the slope of a hill, but, in this monoscenic
representation, the hill is not utilized to arrange
separate incidents in the story. A second painting
from Herculaneum is badly damaged but is preserved as a drawing (Fig. 92). The
bull faces left and Zethus grasps both his horn and
his muzzle, as in the statue group, while Amphion
holds his tail. Dirce kneels before the bull, facing the
viewer, with her left arm raised, possibly in
supplication. At the left, the meeting of two cliffs
forms a natural arch, from which a man in a short
chiton and a cloak emerges. In the middle distance is a
walled city, shown in the usual bird’s-eye view so that
the numerous buildings within its walls are visible.
Neither of these Campanian paintings showing the binding of Dirce can be
regarded as a particularly close match for the sculpture of the Farnese Bull. In the
Figure 91. The Punishment of
Dirce. House of the Atrium
Mosaic, Heculaneum. After
Leach (1986) Pl. 56.2.
Figure 92. Drawing of The
Punishment of Dirce.
Herculaneum. After Leach
(1986) Pl. 57.1.
313
House of the Atrium Mosaic the orientation of the figures is the same as those of the
sculpture, but all three protagonists are much further from the bull so that the
compact grouping of the sculpture is lost. Zethus holds a horn of the bull but not its
muzzle, and Dirce faces outwards towards the viewer. In the drawing of the second
example the orientation of the group has been reversed and the bull is less rampant.
The stance of Zethus is similar to his attitude in the statue group, but Amphion is
now behind the bull and Dirce kneels facing the
viewer. The final painting showing the binding of
Dirce is from the House of the Vetii in Pompeii
(Fig. 93), a late Fourth Style work with
megalographic figures and little background. This
painting shows the greatest similarity to the
Farnese sculpture. The bull, facing right, is rearing
wildly, and the pose of Amphion is similar,
although he appears to place his arm on the back of
the bull rather than hold its tether. Zethus, however, does not grasp the bull. He
faces the viewer, holding a rope in his left hand. Dirce is not seated on a rock. She
sprawls on the ground, head to the right and feet to the left, with both arms in the
air.
No origin has been suggested for the two paintings in which Dirce has been
bound to the bull but is not being actively dragged. Both are late Third Style
paintings with relatively large figures, occupying one third to one half of the
Figure 93. The Punishment of
Dirce. House of the Vetii,
Pompeii. After Leach (1986) Pl
55.1.
314
pictorial height, and both possess quite extensive backgrounds. The paintings are
from Pompeii, the first from the House of the Grand Duke and the second from the
House of the Menander. The first painting is of good quality, with figures modeled
in the Hellenistic style. The background is closed by a rocky hill, crowned with
trees and supporting a rock arch that resembles a dolmen. The bull, facing left,
stands in the shallow foreground held on a tether by a figure in a short tunic at the
far left. Dirce is bound to the bull by a single arm. A woman stands at the left,
regarding her with a degree of compassion. Presumably, this is Antiope. Only one
of the brothers is present, standing beyond the bull on the right, conversing with an
older man. The second painting, from the House of the Menander, has a only a
marginal similarity to the example in the House of the Grand Duke. The bull faces
in the opposite direction. Zethus holds its head by both horns, but Amphion is
talking to Hermes at the left, his back to the viewer. Dirce is tied to the bull by both
wrists. The background is a rocky valley between two hills and the painter has
peopled it with a number of incidental figures, Bacchantes and satyrs, plus two
figures in white, who are spectators of the events.
This summary of scenes from Campanian paintings that feature preliminary
activities before Dirce was dragged to her death indicates considerable variation in
who was present at the scene, where it took place and how the participants were
arranged. The bull is the center of every composition but faces either right or left.
He rears up on his hind legs, as he does in the sculpture of the Franese Bull, or
keeps his four feet planted firmly on the ground. Zethus is always shown at the head
315
of the bull, but in two cases, the paintings in the House of the Grand Duke and the
House of the Vetii, he does not touch the bull. In only one instance, the drawing
from a destroyed Herculanean painting, does his stance mimic that in the sculpture,
grasping the right horn and muzzle of the bull. In the painting from the House of the
Atrium Mosaic he grasps one horn with his right hand, raising the other in the air. In
the scene from the House of the Menander, Zethus holds both horns of the placid
bull. The stance of Amphion at the rear of the bull is even more variable. He is
either detached from the bull, holding its tail, laying his arm on its back, or, in the
House of the Grand Duke, is absent from the scene altogether. In no case does he
attempt to restrain the bull by means of a rope tied to its horn, as he does in the
group of the Farnese Bull. Dirce is placed on the ground in front of the bull in all
representations. She faces right or left, sprawled on the ground, with her torso raised
and feet trailing. She has one or both arms raised in the air but is definitely bound to
the bull in only two cases. In the other two paintings the reason for her upraised
arms is problematic but may represent a desire on the part of the painter to retain a
pose from a painting or sculpture in which Dirce was already bound to the bull.
Three paintings in Pompeii show Dirce bound by one wrist to a bull that is in
full gallop. Two of the paintings have been classified as continuous narratives. The
continuous narrative which is the best preserved and is also of the highest quality is
an early Third Style painting in the House of Julius Polybius in Pompeii (Fig. 94).
The story told in this painting is one of the most elaborate mythological narratives
to be found on Roman walls. It contains four conflated scenes and repetition of four
316
different protagonists. Two of the incidents are
arranged on a gently sloping hill in the left hand section
of the painting, with a time progression from top to
bottom of the hill. The remaining two incidents occur
in the right hand section, taking place at a later time
and representing the consequences of the events at the
left. The two sections are partially separated by a sacred
column bearing a bronze urn, which occupies the center
of the painting. The column stands before a rural shrine,
with a statue of Dionysus on a ledge beside it.
In the left hand section a road meanders down from a walled enclosure with an
elaborate gate, within which cattle are penned. In the far distance is a large villa,
against a backdrop of further hills. A man stands before the gate, wearing a short
tunic and a large hat. He leans on a staff, his dog at his heels and goats scattered
around him. This man is assumed to represent the shepherd who reared Zethus and
Amphion. He provides a reference and reminiscence of stirring events in the past.
Strung out beside the shrine at the bottom of the hill is a procession of Bacchantes,
identified by their ivy garlands and the thyrsoi they carry. They are led by Dirce,
and Antiope is third in line, identified by her lack of both garland and thyrsus and
her pleading gesture. Zethus and Amphion are on either side of Dirce, grasping her
arms in order to drag her away. The shepherd appears a second time, rushing out
from behind the shrine and indicating Antiope by pointing with an outstretched arm.
Figure 94. The Punishment
of Dirce. House of Julius
Polybius, Pompeii. After
Leach (1992) Fig. 24.
317
This identification should have taken place before Zethus and Amphion arrested
Dirce, when Antiope raised her hand to ask for help. The scene is, therefore, a
conflation of two incidents, close in time but quite distinct.
An extensive foreground lies before the procession and the shrine, linking the
right and left hand sections of the painting and forming a contrast to the pleasant
landscape on the left. It is rocky and bleak, with a pool and scattered plants, on
which a few goats are grazing. The starkness of the foreground is continued in the
right hand section, where a towering peak looms to the right of the shrine. It is
linked to a second peak by a natural arch of rock, which frames Dirce, tied to the
bull. The bull is rearing on its hind legs, about to leap from a rocky ledge. Dirce is
attached to its midsection by one wrist. Her body forms an unnatural diagonal in the
air, stiff as a board, her draperies seemingly unaffected by gravity. Only her cloak is
hanging downwards.
143
Two small figures can be seen in the rocks above the arch.
At the highest point, Amphion, identified by the same red cloak he wears in the
scene at the left, is playing his lyre, while his brother leans over the rocks at a lower
level. This final appearance of the twins may be interpreted as an intimation of the
future, Amphion’s kingship and role in rebuilding the walls of Thebes.
The painting is extremely effective as a continuous narrative. As in the Marsyas
painting, the action commences at the upper left, moves to the lower left, continues
on the lower right and concludes on the upper right. The first and last episodes
recall the distant past and the distant future. The figures in these scenes are much
smaller than in the incidents, closely linked in time, that occupy the foreground,
318
distance in space being equated with distance in time. The sequence alludes to a
crime in the past, the present punishment and the reward of a dutiful son in the
future. The separation of the landscape into the pastoral setting where the twins
were reared, and the ominous backdrop of raw nature, where the punishment takes
place, is reminiscent of the Boscotrecase painting of Polyphemus and Galatea, with
its similar separation into contrasting realms.
A second painting featuring the theme of Dirce being dragged by the bull
comes from a house (Pompeii 7.15.2) that was extensively remodeled after the
earthquake of A.D. 62 (Fig. 95). Only the bottom section of the painting remains,
and this portion is so faded that
interpretation must rely on a sketch made
when the house was excavated. The details
are sufficient for Eleanor Leach to detect a
close similarity to the painting in the House
of Julius Polybius.
144
The foreground shows
the same pool, set among rocky ledges and grazing goats. At the right, Dirce is
dragged by the bull, the poses of the two participants closely following those in the
earlier painting. A sloping rock wall at the right undoubtedly formed part of a rock
arch, and a building at the left of the arch can be identified as the shrine. It has two
thrysoi and a votive tablet propped against it that are identical to those in the
original painting. To the left of the shrine the legs and feet belonging to a group of
three people can be discerned, the upper bodies being lost. The central figure wears
Fig. 95. Drawing of the Punishment of
Dirce. Pompeii 7.15.2. After Leach
(1986) Pl. 59.1.
319
a long garment and the bare legs of the two remaining figures are arranged in
precisely the same poses as the legs of the twins in the capture scene from the
House of Julius. Polybius.
A third painting showing Dirce dragged by the bull was discovered in the
House of the Quadriga (Fig. 96), a house with late Third or very early Fourth Style
decoration. Once again, we are forced to rely on a
somewhat perfunctory sketch for discovering its
content. The drawing does not give many
landscape details, sufficient only to discern that
the action takes place on the shore of a body of
water, beneath an enormous arch of rocks.
145
The
bull is dragging Dirce through this arch. Dirce,
bound to the bull by one wrist, is completely
naked, and her body is in the same stiff, extended
pose seen in the two other paintings on the subject. On the far side of the arch, on a
higher groundline, is a male figure, wearing only a cloak. On the same level as the
bull, a male in a short tunic, with a cloak over his arm, is walking to the right,
looking back at the bull. Next to the water, in the center foreground, a naked male
figure on the ground is threatened with a spear by a man in a short tunic and cloak.
At the left two figures, wearing traveling hats, appear to be engaged in a struggle.
Dawson names the naked figure in the upper portion of the painting as Amphion
and the man walking away from the bull as Zethus.
146
The man on the ground is
Figure 96. Drawing of the
Punishment of Dirce. House of
the Quadriga, Pompeii . After
Leach (1986) Pl. 56.1.
320
Lycus and his attacker is Zethus. Leach identifies the naked figure in the
background as Zethus and the clothed figure as Amphion. She agrees that the naked
figure on the ground is Lycus, but his opponent is Zethus. The two struggling
figures are Amphion and Hermes.
147
Both interpretations result in a continuous
narrative style for the painting. However, the representation has at least two
enigmatic features that make attempts at interpretation unsatisfactory. Firstly, it is
unusual that Lycus should be naked and his opponent clothed, heroic nudity being
reserved, in general, for heroes, although Greek iconography sometimes showed
victims naked, in order to indicate helplessness. The second anomaly resides in the
hats worn by the men struggling at the left. Hermes is frequently shown wearing a
traveling hat, in his role as messenger of the gods. Such a hat is not appropriate for
either Amphion or Zethus. but could be attributed to ineptitude and muddled
thinking on the part of the painter.
148
Apart from the rock arch, the painting has little
in common with the two other representations of Dirce being dragged by the bull.
Dirce is naked rather than clothed, the stance of the bull and the viewpoint are
different, as is the choice of additional incidents from the story.
Construction of Continuous Narrative in the Mythological Landscape
Paintings.
In one respect, the series of Campanian paintings featuring the story of Dirce
resembles the collection on the subject of Daedalus and the series dealing with the
myth of Diana and Actaeon. All three series may be divided into categories that
concentrate on two distinct incidents from the story. The Daedalus paintings show
Icarus either falling from the sky or lying dead on the foreshore. Peter von
321
Blanckenhagen has proposed a prestigious Hellenistic original for the series of
paintings depicting the dead body of Icarus on the foreshore and a Roman original
that retains certain features of the Hellenistic original as the initial source for the
second group. In the Actaeon panels, Actaeon is either spying on Diana or
undergoing punishment for his crime. Both themes adopt Hellistic motifs and poses
for the figures of Diana and Actaeon, although the variability in poses and settings
precludes a single original for either of the two categories of painting. In the Dirce
series the earlier paintings focus on the final event, Dirce being dragged to her
death, and the later paintings favor the struggle of Zethus and Amphion to subdue
the bull. In the Daedalus and Actaeon series paintings displaying the continuous
narrative style are constructed by combining the two incidents featured in the
monoscenic versions. However, this is not the method used to constitute the three
continuous narratives of Dirce’s story. These three paintings all show Dirce dragged
by the bull, but none of them incorporate the earlier incident of subduing the bull.
The question of Greek models for Campanian paintings on the theme of binding
Dirce to the bull has kindled considerable scholarly interest, particularly since the
discovery of the version in the House of the Vetii.
149
The early assumption that the
original of the Farnese Bull was the inspiration for all such scenes is possibly
correct, in so far as the statue group may have provided the impetus for the
depiction of this particular incident. However, the extreme variability evident in
how Dirce and the two brothers relate to the bull precludes exact copying from a
single model.
150
The precise duplication of poses, commonly found for entire
322
groups on mythological sarcophagi, is rare in the Third Style mythological
landscapes.
151
The genre contains three examples of continuous narrative pairs, in
which two paintings have closely similar compositions. These are the paintings of
Polyphemus and Galatea in Boscotrecase and the House of the Priest Amandus in
Pompeii, together with the companion paintings of Perseus and Andromeda in the
same two locations. The third example consists of the continuous narratives of
Dirce in the House of Julius Polybius and Pompeii 7.15.2. Peter von Blanckenhagen
considered the Boscotrecase paintings to be Roman originals and initiators of the
panel type continuous narrative, whereas the paintings in the House of the Priest
Amandus are thought to be adaptations of these Roman originals.
152
The same status
of a Roman original and an adaptation could be accorded to the Dirce painting in
the House of Julius Polybius and its companion in Pompeii 7.15.2. These paintings
are unique. Nothing similar is known in Greek art or in the later paintings of Dirce
that appear to rely on Hellenistic models to some considerable extent. The
complexity of the narrative, particularly its referral to past and future events,
exceeds even that of the Polyphemus painting in Boscotrecase. Such allusions are
not seen in Greek narrative art after the simultaneous narratives on Archaic vases
were abandoned. A Hellenistic legacy is evident in the figure modeling, and the
procession of the Bacchantes is a common theme in Greek art. However, the
complex synthesis of events, the use of space and treatment of perspective have
little relation to Greek art.
153
In general, the construction of continuous narrative in
the mythological landscape paintings is an excellent illustration of the complex and
323
variable process whereby the Romans adapted Greek myth in order to produce a
new form of art that is specifically Roman.
Cultural Influences on the Mythological Landscapes
In the late 1
st
century B.C. the first intimation of a literary renewal after the
Civil Wars was the revival of pastoral poetry modeled on the Idylls of Theocritus.
The concept of a simple rural existence, free from the cares and conflicts of city life,
had a particular appeal during the turmoil of civil conflict, and the bucolic pursuits
of herdsmen and their flocks were hymned in Vergil’s Eclogues, written during the
Second Triumvirate.
154
The Georgics continued the rustic theme, couched as advise
on farming.
155
Horace and Tibullus extended this appreciation of rural life, centred
in the Italian countryside rather than in Arcady.
156
Bettina Bergmann has suggested
that literary fascination with a simple country existence may have played a role in
Augustan moralizing debates and the Augustan idea of moral reform, applying the
mystique of Rome’s origins as a nation of freedom-loving farmers, devoted to the
good of their country.
157
The idealization of rural life that is evident in the pastoral
poetry of the early Empire is readily apparent in the sacroidyllic landscapes and is
also reflected in the mythological landscapes. Motifs borrowed from sacroidyllic
iconography abound in these paintings, and many of the settings have pastoral
themes.
The escapist tendency evinced in the literary output of the Civil War period and
its aftermath has been implicated in the popularity of Epicurean philosophy in the
same period, but the mythological landscapes show a greater influence of Roman
324
neo-Stoicism in both choice of subject matter and execution. Posidonius, principal
purveyor of Stoicism to the Romans, adopted the viewpoint of Chrysippus that
myths represent allegories of universal truths, with the purpose in mind of
reconciling Greek myths with Roman religious practices. Roman ideas on proper
conduct were reinforced by the Stoic belief in moderation and restraint, resulting in
a moralistic view of behavior that was quite distinct from Roman cultic religious
practices. Roman moralization and allegorizaton of myth appears to have influenced
the choice of narratives to be displayed on Roman domestic walls, providing an
explanation for an emphasis on the reward of virtue and the punishment of vice.
An additional implication of Stoic beliefs resides in the Stoic attitude towards
nature, which may have influenced paintings such as the Boscotrecase narratives
and certain examples of the Actaeon and Dirce series that show nature in its most
awe inspiring and majestic aspect. In these paintings the towering crags, tangled
forests and limitless distances of sea and sky dwarf the human figures,
subordinating them to the grandeur of raw nature. According to the teachings of the
Stoa, nature was the Logos, the power of supreme reason that ruled the universe by
promulgating inalienable laws. Nature was also the repository of secrets, the
secretoria, that went beyond the understanding of mere men. The Stoic concept of
nature has an allegorical connection with the persona of Artemis/Diana, guardian of
the wilderness and its mysteries. The small, helpless figure of Actaeon exemplifies
the Stoic tendency to regard contemplation of nature as a cure for self
importance.
158
In the preface to Book 4 of the Epistles, a condemnation of flattery,
325
Seneca advises Lucilius to contemplate the majesty of the Nile as an antidote to the
pride engendered by his appointment as governor of a rich province. Seneca also
discusses the mysterious aspect of nature (Ep. 90.34), making the assumption that
nature is the repository of secrets placed beyond our sight and understanding.
The Stoic idea of nature leads naturally to the concept of the sublime, first
postulated in chapter 4 of Longinus’ On the Sublime. This treatise, written in the 1
st
or 2
nd
century A.D., is rhetorical in form and was intended to help the student of
rhetoric achieve an elevated style by studying Greek models.
159
Longinus conveys
the idea that only the great of soul are capable of the elevated thought that can
produce sublime speech. Contemplation of the grandeur of nature can induce such
thoughts in those who possess the necessary greatness of soul. Longinus does not
offer an exact definition of the sublime, but his examples, mostly drawn from
descriptive passages in Homer, indicate that the sublime is that which, in the works
of man or in nature, arouses emotions of awe and astonishment to the point of fear,
but, nevertheless, causes pleasure. Longinus considered that the mind is naturally
elevated by the sublime, and pride in such lofty thoughts and aspirations contributes
to the pleasure associated with its apprehension (1.4.30).
Longinus’ attempts to analyze the emotions aroused by viewing the more awe
inspiring aspects of nature indicate an increased awareness of the natural world in
the early Imperial period, an interest that had already been expressed in the
background provided for visual narratives. A similar appreciation of nature and
philosophical rationalization of the pleasure aroused by contemplation of natural
326
grandeur were associated with a revival of landscape painting in the 18
th
century. In
1763 Emmanuel Kant wrote a disquisition on the sublime that had ideas in common
with both Longinus and the Stoic view of nature.
160
Kant agreed with Longinus that
an exceptional moral and mental capacity was necessary in order to appreciate the
sublime. Confronted by the overwhelming power of nature the judgment of the
superior man determines that nature must obey transcendental laws. Although
unavailable to the present stage of man’s understanding, his reason assures him that
such laws must exist, in order to make sense of apparent chaos. Realization of his
ability to reason and pursue a moral end raises him above unreasoning nature and
gives him a sense of higher purpose. The pleasure of the sublime is explained as due
to this feeling of superiority in the face of terrifying natural forces.
A coincidence between Kantian philosophy and Roman Stoicism is a belief in
the secret laws of nature, unavailable to the understanding of mankind. Kant
associated these secrets with the statue of the veiled Diana at Ephesos, an
expression of the unknown and unknowable in nature, a principle that operates
outside order and reason.
161
The tension
between chaos and order, between nature
and civilization, is evident in the Polyphemus painting from Boscotrecase and in the
Dirce painting from the House of Julius Polybius, where the landscape is divided
into regions of civilization and untamed nature. It is most apparent in the
representation of Diana and Actaeon in the House of Epidius Sabinus, where
Actaeon flees in terror from the cruel and mysterious realm of nature, seeking
refuge in the known, the ordered, civilized world of man.
327
Although the sublime was not a popular subject for philosophical or rhetorical
speculation before the end of the 1
st
century A.D., elements that would later be
attributed to the sublime may be discovered in the mythological landscapes. They
feature vast landscapes fading into unimaginable distances; humans are shown as
small and insignificant in comparison with the grandeur and power of nature; the
actions chosen are designed to arouse the feelings of fear and pleasure characteristic
of the sublime; and the choice of Greek mythology ensures entry into a world
divorced from the mundane, where magic and the supernatural will be encountered.
The pastoral elements present in the vast majority of the mythological
landscapes also have a mythic significance. They express a nostalgia for an
apocryphal Roman past, a lost age of innocence that is equivalent to the Golden Age
of Hesiod’s Works and Days (108-203), when mankind was in tune with nature and
the gods. Each succeeding generation of the Silver, Bronze and Iron ages saw a
degeneration in morality and in the quality of life, as evil, pain and toil entered the
world. The concept found favor with Roman writers, including both Vergil and
Ovid, because it reflects Roman ideas of a fall from grace since the earliest rustic
beginnings of the Roman state. A pleasurable melancholy arises from contemplation
of the inexorable march of time and the loss of much that was praiseworthy and
beautiful.
The pervasive influence of rhetoric on Roman cultural production is less blatant
in the construction of mythological narratives than it is in the encomiastic
biographical accounts on public monuments. However, the extensive use of the
328
locus communis in rhetoric had accustomed Roman audiences to consider
mythological themes as an element of both decoration and persuasion. This figure
of thought employed examples from the past, usually of a moralistic nature, as a
means of proving a point and to add interest and variety to a speech. A further
figure of thought that may have stimulated extensive landscape treatments in art was
ekphrasis, the vivid description of places, people and scenes that enabled the
audience to visualize word pictures in the mind’s eye.
162
The increasing popularity
of declamation in the Augustan era is also reflected in the choice of subjects for
mythological paintings. Declamation, as taught in the schools, employed examples
of positive or negative behavior to illustrate an argument, and the public
demonstrations of declamatory skill indicated a Roman liking for bloodshed and
drama.
163
Great relish was evident in descriptions of suffering, a proclivity also
apparent in the visual mythological narratives that show malefactors undergoing
bizarre and painful punishments, such as being flayed, trampled to death, broken on
the wheel or torn to pieces by demented Maenads.
Theatrical scenery may have influenced the provision of a background for
narrative paintings as early as the 5
th
century B.C. According to Pliny (HN 35.60),
advances in the understanding of perspective occurred in the latter part of the 5
th
century B.C., in connection with the design of stage scenery. Agarthus of Samos
introduced the first stage set for a production of Aeschylus and wrote a treatise on
spatial recession in painting that stimulated research on optics by the sophists.
Vitruvius (7. praef. 11) discusses the use of perspective by the Greeks in the
329
development of stage scenery. He indicates (7.5. 2) that they designed scenery on a
large scale in the tragic, comic and satiric modes, and (5.6.9) defines the tragic
mode as consisting of columns, pediments, statues and other objects suited to kings.
Scenery for the comic mode consisted of the facades of ordinary houses, whereas
the scenery for satyr plays featured a landscape of trees, caverns and mountains.
Several scholars have implicated theater scenery in the landscape backgrounds of
specific mythological paintings. Eleanor Leach, for example, speculates that the
cavern, the rural shrine and the distant pastoral prospect of the Dirce painting in the
House of Julius Polybius were derived from theatrical productions the artist
attended in the local theater.
164
Charles Dawson, however, favors pantomime
productions as a more probable source for both subject matter and scenery, pointing
out that tragedies were rarely performed publicly on the Roman stage after the end
of the Republic.
165
The elaborate scenery constructed for Roman stage spectacles is
a possible source for scenic backgrounds and the list of pantomime subjects given
by Lucian ( Salt. 40-56) coincides with many of the themes popular in mythological
landscape painting. Lucian recognized the similarity between declamation and
pantomime ( Salt. 65), both of which featured the dramatic and bloodthirsty subjects
found on Roman walls.
Changes in the focus of rhetoric that started in the Augustan era, the decline in
importance of forensic and deliberative oratory and the rise of declamation, form
the basis for the similarities discovered between rhetoric and domestic decoration.
However, at a far earlier date a similarity of purpose existed between the cultivation
330
of rhetorical ability and the care lavished on decoration of the Roman house. Both
rhetoric and decoration functioned as a means to satisfy the Roman impetus towards
self presentation, serving to affirm social standing, wealth and education and
offering scope for the competitive spirit existing at all levels of Roman society. By
the late Republic, demonstrating a knowledge of Greek learning was a means of
gaining prestige in Roman social interactions. Cicero (De Or. 2.154) acknowledged
that friendship with Greek intellectuals added to a man’s consequence, and Velleius
Paterculus (12.3) praised Scipio Aemilianus for both his Roman virtue and his
learning. Familiarity with the heritage of Greece could be indicated by inserting
references to Greek mythology into rhetorical speeches, by writing plays or poems
on mythological themes, or by employing mythology on political, religious or
funerary monuments. A final deployment of mythological stories was in the
decoration of the Roman house.
Tabulae Iliacae
The majority of narrative art recovered from a domestic context consists of
mural paintings. However, a genre of narrative reliefs, thought to have served a
decorative purpose in Roman houses, consists of a group of twenty small plaques
known collectively as the Tabulae Iliacae. They were found in and around Rome
and in Roman Campania and were published by Otto Jahn in the late 19
th
century.
These tablets are dated from the late 1
st
century B.C. to the mid 2
nd
century A.D.
They are carved in low relief on some form of marble, including piombino. None
are completely intact, but reconstruction puts the largest of them at about 25cm x
331
41cm. On eleven tablets of the group the subject of the narrative is the Iliad, and six
deal with the Iliupersis. The remainder feature other books of the Trojan cycle,
except for a tablet retelling the apotheosis of Hercules and one with an account of
Alexander’s victory at Arbela. The narratives are accompanied by text, varying in
length from the name of the work and labels on characters to quite extensive
synopses. Five of the tablets are inscribed with the name “Theodorus,” thought to be
that of the craftsman rather than the author of the text.
Two of these tablets contain a central panel that displays a continuous narrative
of the same type common in the mythological landscape paintings, featuring two or
more incidents from the same story integrated within a unified setting. Both tablets
are thought to be from the Augustan era, the same time period to which the
mythological landscapes belong, so that it is possible to postulate a connection
between the two genres.
The best known, earliest and best preserved of the
tablets is the Tabula Iliaca Capitolinum (Fig. 97), now
in the Capitoline Museum.
166
The major portion of the
relief consists of a central panel. At the right are twelve
stacked registers, separated from the central panel by a
pilaster that is inscribed with a very condensed version,
in Greek, of the first twenty four books of the Iliad.
Each register contains one or more scenes from books
thirteen to twenty four (book twenty is missing).When
Figure 97. Capitoline
Tablet Capitoline Museum,
Rome. After Leach (1988).
Fig. 11.
332
more than a single incident is shown, the scenes are continuous and some registers
have repetitions of the same character(s). The left hand portion of the tablet is
missing, but is thought to have contained similar registers, featuring books one to
twelve. A single relief band runs across the top of the tablet and has seven scenes
from book one. Two shorter registers at the bottom of the tablet show scenes from
the Parva Ilias and the Aithiops. The miniature figures are labeled for identification.
The continuous narrative exhibited in the registers is of the frieze type, found in
Hellenistic art and in a number of mural friezes featuring the Trojan story that have
been discovered in Pompeian houses. The central panel, however, displays the panel
type of continuous narrative, thought to be a Roman invention. The narrative
recounts the final episodes in the fall of Troy, set in a single, unified landscape
comprising the walled city and the seashore before its gates. The focus of the story
is on the escape of Aeneas from the doomed city and his departure by sea. The
enclosure of the city is shown in bird’s eye view, whereas the human figures are
seen at eye level. Various events are taking place within the city and on the coastal
plain, and Aeneas appears illogically in three different places, engaged
simultaneously in actions that occurred sequentially in time. Two spaces are
enclosed within the walls by three-sided porticoes, the uppermost being the precinct
of Athena’s temple, where Cassandra is raped by Ajax. The lower portico surrounds
the palace of Priam, where Priam and Astynax are slaughtered and Helen meets
Menelaus at the left. In the area below the palace Aeneas receives the penates.
Leading Ascanius by the hand, he also emerges from the gates of Troy. At the lower
333
right Aeneas makes his final appearance, boarding a ship with his family in order to
depart from Troy.
The panel narrative, showing simultaneous or sequential actions in a unified
space, is well suited to the variety of events involved in the fall of Troy. The city is
spread out, as though seen from directly above, and events, located at the appointed
site, are seen at eye level. In the case of the Augustan Tabula Iliaca Capitolinum, a
new element is included that was lacking in the panoramic narratives on Greek
vases featuring similar incidents in the fall of Troy. The events that initiated the
founding of the Roman state are added and integrated into the story of Troy, using
the continuous narrative format to include all important aspects of Aeneas’
departure.
A tablet showing events from the tenth book of the Odyssey employs a similar
bird’s-eye viewpoint to ensure that events within a walled enclosure are visible to
the viewer.
167
In this case the enclosure is the courtyard of Circe’s palace. Odysseus
is shown in three separate scenes, dispersed
within the architectural framework, and Circe is
shown twice (Fig. 98). Outside the walls,
Odysseus meets with Hermes, who provides
him with the herb, Moly, that enables him to
resist Circe’s enchantments. In the lower right
section of the courtyard Odysseus threatens
Circe with a sword, after she has attempted to enchant him, and at the upper right
Figure 98. Drawing of the Odyssey
Tablet. After Weitzmann (1959) Fig.
46.
334
Circe raises a wand, preparing to disenchant Odysseus’ crew, who emerge from the
palace, complete with animal heads. Odysseus is an interested spectator of this
event.
The purpose served by the Iliac tablets has been the subject of some debate. The
original idea, that they were constructed as classroom aids for education in Greek
literature, has essentially been rejected.
168
The tablets are too small and too fragile,
and teachers would be unlikely to tolerate the inaccurate summaries and poor
grammar. A second suggestion, that they were votive offerings, has also been
rejected, because they were discovered mainly in domestic settings rather than in
the vicinity of temples. The most acceptable conclusion is that they were intended
for the non-elite, and possibly functioned as library decorations in the homes of the
newly rich, such as Trimalchio, who wished to appear cultured and possessed
libraries of Greek and Latin texts.
The combination of the panel type of continuous narration with inconsistencies
in size and perspective is a characteristic of the mythological landscape paintings.
The discovery of similar attributes on examples of non-elite art raises the possibility
that the panel type of continuous narrative was initially developed in popular art and
adapted for use in landscape painting. The employment of incoherent perspective
and inconsistent size found on the Iliac Tablets is also a frequent accompaniment to
the continuous narrative style in Roman relief sculpture, and can be seen on
Imperial monuments exhibiting this style. Peter von Blanckenhagen, commenting
on the Odyssey tablet discussed above, noted the similarities to the narrative on the
335
Column of Trajan.
169
He saw the inconsistencies as the result of an unsophisticated
artist attempting to provide as many details of landscape and architecture as
possible, a motive consistent with the purpose of continuous narrative, which is
geared to supply maximum information in minimum space. Blanckenhagen did not
regard the use of incongruous size and perspective as a consciously formulated
stylistic decision but as a form of primitivism, allied to popular art and a lack of
artistic sophistication. Although it is possible that primitivism and poor ability may
be a factor in the non-elite production of the Iliac tablets, they are unlikely to figure
in the production of Imperial public monuments. By the time of Trajan, Roman
narrative art had demonstrated a firm grasp of the principles of perspective, in both
painting and relief sculpture. The decision to abandon realism and naturalism on
elite monuments cannot be regarded as other than a conscious stylistic choice,
featuring the adaptation of popular art for the purposes of rhetorical persuasion.
Conclusion
We possess little tangible evidence for the format of Republican narrative art
before the 1
st
century B.C., but literary descriptions of the triumphal paintings and
the historical and biographical records placed on the walls of public buildings
indicate a strong possibility that these works may have included the continuous
narrative style. The sole surviving example of a Republican continuous narrative,
the census frieze from the “Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus,” may represent a
further development of scenes celebrating civic occasions and religious ceremonies
from the mid and late Republican periods. This narrative resonates with the Roman
336
interest in telling expansive stories that was clearly demonstrated by later Imperial
monuments and also provides an elaborate linkage between the civic and religious
duties of an elite individual and victory in war.
Although there is no record of any employment of the continuous narrative style
for official visual histories of the Augustan or Julio-Claudian periods, the evidence
for conflation employed on non-elite monuments and in a visual boigraphy from a
provincial Italian city indicates that conflated formats were possibly a characteristic
of Italic art, a supposition endorsed by the major association of continuous narration
with non-Greek elements in Roman art.
The narratives of Rome’s early history associated with the revival of
foundation myths in the Augustan era confirm a continued interest in conflated
forms of narration and their utility in either linking the scenes of an extended
narrative or emphasizing a paradigmatic connection between the episodes in the
story of Rome’ origins.
A final and distinctive contribution to continuous narrative in the late Republican
and Augustan eras was the elaboration of the single panel type of continuous
narrative in Roman painting and the Iliac tablets. The continuous narrative panel
paintings of the Third Style furnish a definitive example of how the Romans
adapted Greek art and Greek myth to suit their own purposes. The intention of
reproducing the pinothecae of wealthy households motivated Third and Fourth Style
decorative schemes and dictated that the centerpieces of these decorative ensembles
should consist of square or rectangular panels placed in the central space of the
337
wall. Imitations of the framed wooden panels of late Classical and Hellenistic
paintings that were favored for elite display also ensured that the subject matter of
the wall paintings would be Greek mythology. It has been proposed that the
majority of the Fourth Style panels were, to a greater or lesser degree, inspired by
actual Hellenistic art.
170
However, the mythological paintings of the Third Style are
less likely to have relied on Greek originals, representing instead a contemporary
fascination with landscape, attributable in part to current social and political
conditions, and a possible adaptation of format and forms from popular art.
Extensive backgrounds, plus the concomitant reduction in figure size, made possible
the introduction of more than a single episode from a story, dispersed within the
framework of a continuous landscape setting. The resultant expansion of the story
line catered to the Roman desire for complete story telling. The use of
inconsistencies in perspective, viewpoint and size ensured that all episodes were
clearly visible to the viewer and enabled the arrangement of episodes and individual
characters in an order of relative importance. The resultant visual chaos owes
nothing to the Greeks, and it is not surprising that Hellenistic influence is restricted
to the occasional figure or group that may have been abstracted from the corpus of
Hellenistic art. Mythological stories thus provided the subject matter for a
completely new form of visual narrative, for which there is no precedent in either
Greek art or the earlier narratives of the ancient Mediterranean.
It may be concluded, from a survey of works from the Republican and early
Imperial period, that Roman continuous narratives featuring the stories of Greek
338
mythology or Roman legend involved a condensation or rearrangement of mythic or
legendary material to give new meanings, resonating with Roman concerns and
serving to enhance status, memoria and religion.
339
Notes: Chapter 4.
1. The scholarly literature on the monument is quite extensive. Important sources
include Furtwängler (1896); Castagnoli (1945); Kähler (1966); Coarelli (1968);
Torelli (1982); Gruen (1992); Kuttner (1993); and Holliday (2002).
2. Ryberg (1955) 33; Kähler (1966) 29-30; Bandinelli (1970) 52-5; Brilliant (1974)
236; Strong (1976) 51-2. Kähler has identified parallels between the carving of
the unrestored heads and heads on Etruscan urns and sarcophagi.
3. Furtwängler (1896) 35.
4. Coarelli (1970) 241-76.
5. Kuttner (1993) 200-4. A possible candidate is a statue group by Skopas,
described by Pliny (NH 30.26) as containing Neptune, Tritons and Nereids, all of
whom are present in the thiasos frieze. However, the number of figures
enumerated by Pliny would not fit on the surface of the base. Other suggestions
were that the base could have supported a cult statue for either the Temple of
Neptune or the nearby Temple of Mars, built in 138 B.C. The census frieze
features a sacrifice to Mars, who is shown as actually present at the altar, a reason
for the inclusion of a cult statue dedicated to Mars as a possible identity for the
statue supported by the base. Ann Kuttner has pointed out that this explanation is
unlikely, since the base of a cult statue would not be decorated with details from
the personal story and career of an individual.
6. Castagnoli (1945); Gruen (1992) 148-52. These authors disagree with the
assessment that the frieze focused on the career of an individual, preferring to
regard the frieze as a generic celebration of the censorship as a Roman institution.
7. Scholars who support this theory include Kähler (1966), Coarelli (1968) and
Kuttner (1993). For a discussion of the marine thiasos in Greek sculpture see
Lattimore (1976).
8. See Goelhart (1931) 31, for a defense of the earlier Domitius Ahenobarbus as the
censor of the frieze, and Ryberg (1955) 32-4, for the argument in favor of his
descendant.
340
9. Gabba (1976) 315-26; Kuttner (1993) 210-11. Kähler, Coarelli and Kuttner have
all championed Marcus Antonius as the censor whose career is celebrated on the
base. Various scholars (Torelli !982, 13-5; Simon 1986) have maintained that he
is not a suitable choice, because the frieze must be dated before 107 B.C., when
Marius reformed the property qualifications for enrollment in the military, and
the census ceased to have military significance. However, Kuttner and Gabba
have cited literary evidence that the census continued to function beyond this date
as a venue for enrollment, and Kuttner argues that, at least through the Augustan
period, the Romans continued to view the censorship as related to the strength
and protection of Rome’s military might (Livy 1.42).
10. Kuttner (1993) 205-6. It should, however, be borne in mind that there were
methods of acquiring Greek art other than as war booty. The 1
st
century B.C.
was the period when Roman officials such as Verres were prosecuted for
plundering the provinces under their control.
11. See Note 6.
12. Ryberg (1955) 22.
13. Pollini (1983) 572. John Pollini draws attention to the difficulty of interpreting
gestures accurately and contends that this figure may not be pointing but holding
a fold of his toga.
14. Coarelli (1968) 220; Gruen (1992) 142; Kuttner (1993) 205; Holliday (2002)
161.
15. Bonanno (1976) 7-8.
16. Kähler (1966) 27; Torelli (1982) 10; Holliday (2002) 161. Torelli, for example,
thinks that the first seated man is a iurator, an oath taker, the outstretched arm
of the man he interrogates indicating that he is accepting sworn testimony The
hand of the first standing togatus appears to be actually touching or about to
grasp the pages of the book, a gesture incompatible with the taking of an oath.
17. Gruen (1992) 145-50.
18. Ibid.
19 Torelli (1982) 12.
20. Kuttner (1993) 213.
21. Ibid. 263.
341
22. Gruen (1992) 51-2; Kuttner (1993) 211-12. Gruen concurs that the stylistic
contrast between the two friezes was a conscious decision, evoking ancient
tradition and the mos maiorum.
23. Zanker (1990) 14. Zanker comments on the proximity of the “naked Nereids”
and “lascivious Tritons” to a solemn religious ceremony and postulates that they
must have had a disturbing effect. The explanation for this incongruous
placement is likely to have involved a conscious decision aimed at contrasting
Greek and Roman proclivities and characteristics.
24. Simon (1963) 759; Torelli (1982) 20.
25. Torelli (1982) 16-20.
26. Ross-Taylor (1921) 387-95; Ross-Taylor (1925) 299-320; Ryberg (1955) 84-7.
In the later publication Ross-Taylor amended her identification of the goddess to
Terra Mater.
27. See Ryberg (1955) 88-9, for examples of early Imperial altars featuring
statuettes of gods held by worshippers.
28. Pollini (1983) 572. This explanation is also favored by John Pollini.
29. Ross-Taylor (1921) 393-5; Ryberg (1955) 86. Ryberg and Ross-Taylor
reference the popularity of the cult of Concordia in the late Augustan and
Tiberian periods. For example, the temple built in Pompeii by Eumachia in A.D.
22 was dedicated to Concordia Augusta and Pietas.
30. Wissowa (1912) 49. The Lares familiares were associated with a specific house
and its inhabitants, the Lares compitales protected a district and the Lares
praesites were guardians of the area containing the city of Rome.
31. An example is the altar of the Vicus Aesculeti, showing the sacrifice of the four
Vicomagistri coupled with the corona civica between two laurels and with a Lar
holding a laurel branch on each side panel. The two laurel trees are also shown
in a painting of the Lares in a lararium in Pompeii, an appropriation of Imperial
iconography for private use. A second altar, in Soriano del Cimino, has the
Lares on the side panels, standing between two laurel trees as on the Altar of
Manlius.
32. Duff (1958) 79.
33. Bartoli (1950) 289-94; Carettoni (1961) 5-78; Furuhagen (1961) 135- 55;
Bonanno (1976) 12-15; Bauer (1988) 200-12; Kampen (1991) 448-58.
342
34. Dates ranging from 79 B.C. to A.D. 60 have been proposed for the frieze, with
the dates of the renovations in 34 B.C. and 14 B.C. receiving the most support.
Carettoni (1961) 8-78 and Bonnano (1976)12-15 favor the earlier date because
the Hellenistic style is considered incompatible with an Augustan date. Bauer
(1988) 200-12 and Kampen (1991) 448-58 support the Augustan date of 14 B.C.
because of the enthusiasm for antiquarian subjects at this time, particularly those
concerning the foundation of Rome, and the relevance of the frieze for
Augustus’ program of moral reform. The inclusion of Hellenistic motifs and
style on the panels of the Ara Pacis tends to negate the contentions of an
incompatibility of the style with the Augustan era.
35. Blanckenhagen (1957) 78.
36. Brilliant (1984) 28-30.
37. Brizio (1876)
38. Brizio (1876) 8-15; Robert (1879) 234-74; Borda (1958) 3-10; Nash (1961)
359-65; Capelli (1998) 51-8.
39. For discussions on the content of the frieze, see Borda (1958) 172-5; Dawson
(1965) 195; Brilliant (1984) 30; Capelli (1998) 51-8.
40. Borda (1958) 173. The figures in the battle scene were originally identified by
inscriptions, most of which have faded into illegibility. One of the negotiating
figures is labeled as Mezekius, king of Caere, who was an ally of the Romans.
41. Robert (1879) 256.
42. See Capelli (1998) 55-6, for variations in the visual representation of the Rhea
Silvia myth.
43. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 118-9.
44. Capelli (1998) 56.
45. Brizio (1876).
46. Holliday (2002) 33.
47. Capelli (1998) 58.
48. Carradini (1970) 97-9.
343
49. Mau (1899)
50. Ling (1991) 12-100.
51. Leach (2004) 132-52. Eleanor Leach has discussed literary and archaeological
evidence for the role played by elite pinothecae in development of framed
pictures as the focus of Third and Fourth Style decoration.
52. Ling (1991) 128-40.
53. Dawson (1965) 79; Ling (1991) 114.
54. Dawson (1965) 1.
55. Hurwitt (1991) 36; Hedreen (2001) 1-2. Landscape elements are to found on
less than 5% of Archaic vases, if plucked or portable greenery and flowers are
excluded.
56. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1989) 203-5; Stansbury-O’Donnell (1990) 215-35. There
is also a possibility that the Grand Paintings, murals adorning 5
th
century Greek
public buildings, may have developed landscape to a greater degree than the
vase paintings. Large scale paintings would undoubtedly be more amenable to
the depiction of extensive landscape than the restricted area of the vases.
Pausanius’description of the Battle of Marathon in the Stoa Poikile (1.15.3),
cursory as it is, does mention topographic features, such as the marsh into which
the fleeing Persians were driven and the Persian ships moored at a beach on the
right. Similarly, Stansbury O’Donnell’s reconstructions of Polygnotos’
paintings in the Knidian Lesche have incorporated the architecture of Troy and
the beach from which Menelaus and Helen’s ship departed.
57. Dawson (1965) 10-1. These paintings, situated in the Temple of Zeus at
Pelusium, were described by Achilles Tatius (Erot. 3.6-8). They pictured
Andromeda rescued by Perseus, and Promethius freed by Herakles. The
descriptions include an elaborate landscape setting.
58. Pollitt (1988) 190-2; Cohen (1997) 54-5.
344
59. Lehmann (1941) 16-44: Bryson (1994)16-44. A further source for
reconstruction of Classical and Hellenistic paintings is the description, or
ekphrasis, of paintings in Roman rhetoric and poetry, such as the writings of
Lucian and Philostratus. The Imagines of Philostratus the Elder is most
frequently quoted. This treatise, written in the late 2
nd
century A.D., purports to
be a lecture delivered on the paintings in a private pinotheca on the Bay of
Naples. Some scholars have championed the idea that the descriptions are based
on actual paintings, while others are of the opinion that the paintings existed
only in the minds of the rhetorician and his audience. Despite the highly
rhetorical favor of the discourse, two paintings may be isolated as possible
landscapes. Number 9 describes a marsh, surrounded by pine and cypress trees
and inhabited by waterfowl. Number 17, titled “Islands,” appears to be an
illustrated map of islands in the sea, with a description of activities on the
inhabited members of the chain.
60. Panofsky (1953) ii.
61. Hurwitt (1991) 34.Various explanations have been proposed to account for this
lack of interest in natural surroundings.
The explanations for Greek indifference
to nature range from Schiller’s idea that the Greeks were too close to nature to
see it as a subject for representation, to Alexander Humboldt’s explanation that
Greek anthropomorphism caused them to regard nature only as a setting for
human action. Humboldt’s explanation is supported by Plato (Cortias 177C),
who says that we do not pay attention to landscape in painting, as the major
subject is the human figure.
62. Ibid. 39.
63. Schefold (1960) 87: Dawson (1965) 79; Ling (1991) 142. Both Dawson and
Ling consider that landscape in its own right is a Roman invention. Schefold
states that the expansive landscape was inconceivable in Greek art and only
timidly anticipated in Hellenistic art.
64. Leach (1988) 96-9; Ling (1991) 142-3.
65. Ptolemy, in his Geography, says that a cartographer must be a painter, providing
further evidence for a pictorial component in Hellenistic maps, and endorsing
their similarity to Roman monochrome painting.
66. Leach (1988) 95-8.: Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 33-4; Bergmann
(1992) 21-46.
345
67. Ling (1977) 1-16. Precedents for the monochrome paintings can be found in the
Nile Mosaic and pictorial maps. However, a remarkable similarity exists
between the content of the monochrome paintings and a list of subjects that
Pliny (NH 35.37.115) attributes to a specific painter with a Roman name. Pliny
says that Spurius Studius first painted walls with pictures of country houses,
porticoes, landscaped gardens, groves, woods, hills, fishponds, canals, rivers
and coasts, together with sketches of people strolling, riding on donkeys and in
carriages, fishing, hunting, fowling and gathering the vintage. Vitrivius,
speaking of earlier paintings of the Second and Third Style (7.5.2) enumerates
similar subjects for friezes decorating covered passages. He says that they used
varieties of landscape gardening, harbors, groves, hills, cattle and shepherds.
Roger Ling believes that Pliny’s description conflates monochrome paintings
and the detailed paintings of villas that were an element of the Fourth Style,
whereas Vitruvius is combining the content of monochrome and sacroidyllic
paintings.
68. Blanckenhagen (1963) 100-46; Pollitt (1988) 185-8; 205-7; Leach (1988) 42-54;
Ling (1991) 108-11; Stewart (1996) 39-52.
69. Dawson (1965) 9-10; Pollitt (1988) 91-2. The use of an impressionistic style for
figures appears also in the monochrome and sacroidyllic landscapes and in
certain small, Fourth Style landscapes, narratives and genre scenes. It has been
proposed, based on hints in the literature, that impressionism was invented in
Alexandria, specifically by the painter, Antiphilus. Petronius complains (Sat. 2)
that Egyptian brevity and use of short-cuts has ruined painting, and Quintilian
(Inst. 12.10.6) attributes facilitas in brushwork to Antiphilus. Pliny (NH 35.138)
credits him with the use of light for shading and a fondness for cariacture. As
Dawson comments, these references provide only a shaky foundation on which
to erect the construct of a Greek origin for impressionism. More concrete
evidence for a Hellenistic origin is provided by an actual painting, recovered
from a Macedonian tomb at Vergina. A representation of Pluto abducting
Persephone exhibits impressionistic, rapid brushstrokes, a lack of definitive
outlines and the use of mixed colors for shading. The painting is
megalographic and has no background, so that an innovative employment of
impressionism to represent small figures in a landscape may be attributable to a
Roman adaptation.
70. Blanckenhagen (1957) 80.
71. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81; Leach (1988) 46-7.
72. Hesberg (1988) 344. Hans von Hesberg has stated that the atmosphere evokes
not so much the deeds of Odysseus as a lost world of natural wonders and the
realm of the dead.
346
73. Schefold (1960) 87-92; Dawson (1965) 192.
74. Blanckenhagen (1963) 111-34; Ling (1991) 110-1.
75. The frieze in the House of the Cryptoporticus is in the upper level of a covered
passage and is almost impossible to follow from ground level.
76. Leach (1988)
77. Ling (1991) 111. Similar mistakes can be found on labeled Archaic vases.
78. Blanckenhagen (1963) 130; Ling (1991) 112.
79. Pollitt (1988) 205-7.
80. Stewart (1996) 51.
81. Ling (1991) 101-3; Clarke (1991) 99-105; Gazda (2000) 1-10. A recent
anthology, edited by Elaine Gazda, has an extensive bibliography on the Villa of
the Mysteries frieze.
82. Ling (1991) 104. In the frieze from the Villa of P. Fanius Synistor at Boscoreale
the figures are arranged in groups that have no apparent narrative connection,
and they have no cultic associations.
83. Scholars who have supported a Hellenistic original for the frieze include P.
Mudie-Cooke (1913) 157-74, Jocelyn Toynbee (1929) 67-87, and Erika Simon
(1961) 111-72. A Greek origin was challenged by Margarete Bieber (1928) 326,
330, Amadeo Maiuri (1947) 174-75 and Otto Brendel (1980) 123-125.
84. Bieber (1928) 301. Bieber found analogous poses on coins, cameos and statues.
85. Clarke (1991) 99-100; Ling (1991) 102-3; Veyne (1998) 17. The idea of a copy
has persisted to some degree. It was reiterated by Paul Veyne as recently as
1998.
86. Sauron (1984) 151-74.
87. Gazda (2000) 6. One of the more illuminating hints concerning Bacchic rituals
was found on a statue base of Agripinilla, from the 2
nd
century A.D. The base
has a list of what appears to be the complete membership of a Bacchic cult. Of
the twenty one titles listed, nine include women and two are reserved
exclusively for women.
347
88. M. Swetnam-Burland (2000) 59-73. Bacchus was the most common deity added
to household shrines in Pompeii, presumably because of the importance of the
wine industry in the region. The Temple of Bacchus in Pompeii was built long
before Pompeii became a Roman colony in 80 B.C.
89. Clarke (1991) 99.
90. Toynbee (1929) 67-87.
91. Bieber (1928) 298-330; Maiuri (1947) 100-2.
92. Ling (1991) 103.
93. Clarke (1991) 105.
94. Kirk (2000) 98-115.
95. Borda (1958) 169-71; 247-9; Brilliant (1984) 61-5.
96. Clarke (1991) 205-6. At the midpoint the small frieze reverses the direction in
which the scenes should be read, from right to left to left to right. John Clarke
has postulated that this anomaly may be explained as an accommodation to the
positions of the dining couches. The first part of the frieze is read as the diners
progress from the door to their couches and the second part from the couch
itself.
97. Dawson (1965) 181. Dawson contends that the horizon tends to be lower in
paintings that show a high degree of Hellenistic influence and the highest
horizons are found in examples with the continuous narrative style.
98. Ling (1977) 14-5; Schefold (1960) 87.
99. Strong (1976) 134.
100. Dawson (1965) 116.
101. Schefold (1960) 87.
102. Dawson (1965) 145; Leach (1992) 29-46. The poem itself is lost, but its
content is given by several Hellenistic scholiasts of 5
th
century texts.
348
103. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 1-3. Peter von Blanckenhagen has based
this assumption on graffiti recovered from the villa, which suggest such an
ownership. He explains a single inscription that mentions a Tiberius Claudius
Eutyches, an Imperial freedman, by postulating that he was the manager of the
estate at a later time.
104. Ling (1991) 114; Leach (1988) 339. The presence of a cornucopia has
caused Leach and Ling to identify the statue as Fortuna, a designation
indicating that Polyphemus’ hopes are in the balance.
105. This scarf is mentioned by Theocritus and is a constant feature in the Pompeian
paintings. It is also described by Philostratus in his account of a painting on
the subject of Polyphemus and Galatea (2.18.371), providing further evidence
that Theocritus’ Idyll 11 was the source for the various versions of the story in
art.
106. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 32.
107. Leach (1992) 339-40. Eleanor Leach proposes that the inspiration for inclusion
of the epic episode was provided by Theocritus’ mention of a prophecy the
Cyclops has heard, concerning a stranger who will arrive in his land by ship.
108. Blunt (1958) 299. Anthony Blunt, discussing Nicholas Poussin’s painting of
Polyphemus in a Landscape, has considered the Cyclops as one of the earliest
beings, a representative of Hesiod’s Golden Age before the invention of
agriculture. He is a remnant of a primeval age, lingering on into the later Age
of Heroes.
109. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 32.
110. Ibid. 38-40. Blanckenhagen does caution that the painting may have had an
early Third Style predecessor in Rome or elsewhere, in which case this earlier
model would represent the innovative beginnings of the panel type of
continuous narrative.
111. Leach (1988) 368-9. From these hints Eleanor Leach concludes that we are
meant to infer a love affair that was at least partially successful In a Fourth
Style painting from Herculaneum a complacent Polyphemus receives a billet
doux from Eros. The painting may indicate a Hellenistic source in which
Polyphemus actually attained some degree of success in his courtship of
Galatea. More probably, the variation in the story is a Roman invention, the
Romans having become accustomed to the happy endings of popular
Greek romances.
349
112. Phillips (1968) 1. The painting is quite unusual and does not seem to have
influenced later vases. Perseus is pelting the monster with rocks, while
Andromeda looks on.
113. Ibid. 8-12. In the earliest versions Andromeda is tied by the wrists to one or
two planks, columns or trees. She is transferred, first to a cave in a cliff and
later to the face of the cliff itself. Perseus is absent from the early groups, and
only in the final versions from South Italy does he do battle with the monster in
the sea.
114. See note 57.
115. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 37.
116. Ibid.
117. Leach (1988) 365; Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 39. Leach draws
attention to the increase in Kepheus’ escort, who are also more heavily armed
in the Pompeian painting. She thinks this episode indicates that Perseus will
still have to fight the rejected suitor for his bride.
118. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 37.
119. A megalographic Fourth Style painting in the House of the Menander shows
Perseus conferring with Kepheus in a room of the palace. It has a minimal
architectural background.
120. Blanckenhagen (1968) 106-43.
121. Ibid. 134.
122. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81; Blanckenhagen (1968) 130-5.
123. Blanckenhagen (1968) 134.
124. Ling (1991) 114-5.
125. Leach (1988) 349. Eleanor Leach has suggested that the city in the paintings
may not represent Knossus but refer to Ovid’s vivid account of the flight, as
seen in bird’s eye view through the eyes of Icarus.
126. Blanckenhagen (1968) 134; Dawson (1965) 140-1; Leach (1988) 349.
350
127. Ling (1991) 130. Ling has drawn attention to the frequent Roman modification
of Hellenistic themes by the addition of incidental figures or spectators.
128. Leach (1981) 308-9.
129. Dawson (1965) 112-3.
130. Leach (1981) 318.
131. Dawson (1965) 117. Dawson considers this painting to be “hardly more than a
romantic genre scene with an Alexandrian flavor,” suggesting a Hellenistic
influence on its conception. However, as discussed previously, no definitive
Hellenistic examples exist in which the figures are small in comparison to the
landscape elements, as they undoubtedly are in this painting.
132. Leach (1988) 317. Leach has also suggested that the scene may represent
Actaeon boasting of his hunting prowess, according to Euripides’ version of
the story. This version does not include Diana’s bath and would necessitate the
conflation of events from two different original versions, which is certainly not
impossible, given that the Pompeian narratives were based on what a particular
painter remembered of the story.
133. Blanckenhagen (1968) 135-6.
134. Leach (1988) 317.
135. Dawson (1965) 139-40.
136. Blanckenhagen (1957) 87.
137. Dawson (1965) 155; Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 141.
138. Ling (1991) 165. One of the few visual references in Pompeii to Aeneas and
the flight from Troy is a “straight” adaptation of an Augustan statue group,
consisting of Aeneas, accompanied by his son, carrying Anchises and the
Palladium. The painting was on a shop façade in Pompeii, accompanied by a
painting of Romulus. A parody was installed in the Basilica of Eumachia. It
showed the same figures with the heads of dogs and very prominent sexual
organs. Such ridicule may indicate, as Ling suggests, a certain exasperation
with the cliché of the “pious Aeneas,” but it surprising to find it on display in a
public building.
139. Sogliano (193-94) 1-9
351
140. Lauter-Bufe (1967); Leach (1986) 170-1. Leach draws attention to a Lucanian
vase of the late 5
th
century which may follow a model for the second group.
Dirce is being dragged by the bull, while Zethus and Amphion stand behind the
bull.
141. Leach (1986) 170-1. Leach suggests a papyrus illustration of Euripides’ play as
a possible source. As discussed previously, such a source is unlikely, because
there is no evidence for illustrated copies of plays at this early date.
142. Ibid. 165. The brother at the head of the bull is usually identified as Amphion
because of his more prominent role in the story. Leach, however, invokes a
scene from Seneca’s Oedipus, in which Zethus grapples a horn of the bull with
his right hand. Leach deduces that Seneca was referring to the original of the
Farnese Bull that would have been well known to Seneca’s audience.
143. Ibid. 170. Leach has commented on the poor quality of this section of the
painting, in comparison with the rest, stressing the awkward foreshortening of
the arms, which seem to be attached to the neck rather than the shoulders.
144. Ibid. 180-2. Leach has provided evidence that this second painting was
produced during remodeling after the earthquake of A.D. 62. Therefore, if one
painting is an original and the other a copy, the original must be the painting in
the early Third Style House of Julius Polybius.
145. Phillips (1968) 11-2.; Leach (1986) 172-4. Both Kyle Phillips and Eleanor
Leach have discussed the prevalence of a rock arch or grotto in the Roman
mythological landscapes. The arch served as a frame for the dead or those
about to die, and it is found in landscapes from the Odyssey Frieze to the
Fourth Style paintings.
146. Dawson (1965) 93-4. Dawson, following the first publication of the painting in
the 19
th
century, identifies the group as Zethus and Amphion attacking Lycus,
who wears a kingly robe. The mistake is understandable, since the painting in
the House of Julius Polybius had not yet been published when he wrote his
survey.
147. Dawson (1965) 94. The struggling men in the left foreground are not named in
Dawson’s account.
148. Leach (1986) 168, n.3
149. See Heide Lauter-Bufe (1967) 29-30 for a discussion of the concept that the
Farnese Bull provided a model for groups showing Zethus and Amphion
restraining the bull.
352
150. Leach (1986) 164-8. Leach essentially endorses this conclusion. She considers
that the sculptural group lies behind later Pompeian representations of Dirce
but points out variations in the positions and relationships of Zethus, Amphion
and Dirce.
151. The precise repetition of poses that is found on Roman sarcophagi can be seen
on Volterran cinerary urns featuring the binding of Dirce to the bull. A
repetitive group appears on three out of the four urns with this theme.
152. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 38-40.
153. The same caution offered by Blanckenhagen concerning the originality of the
Polyphemus painting from Boscotrecase must be exercised in a claim to
originality for the Dirce painting. The quality is unusually high for a painting
from a provincial context, and it is possible that it was copied from a
prestigious painting in the Roman capital.
154. Frazer (1992) 49-61. Vergil (Ecl. 10.42-44) for example, praises the assumed
idyllic existence in rural Italy prior to the conquest of Greece, portraying the
farmer stretched at ease in the grass and enjoying the fruit of his vines.
155. Ogilvy (1980) 115-39. The book was modeled on Hesiod’s Works and Days. It
was not intended as a didactic handbook such as Cato’s De Agricultura, but
designed to convey Vergil’s love of the countryside and the simple, rustic life.
156. See Tibullus 1.1 and Horace Sat. 2.2; 2.6.
157. Bergmann (1992) 30-1.
158. Rosemeyer (2000) 103-6.
159. Kennedy (1994) 191-2.The origin of this treatise is disputed, but it is probable
that its author was Dionysius Longinus, who wrote in the late 1
st
or early 2
nd
centuries A.D.
160. Kant (1752) 20-6; 111-5.
161. Kant (1760) 413-39.
162. It is noteworthy that poets and rhetors from Homer to Philostratus commonly
employed ekphrasis to describe works of art, reconstructing them for the reader
or audience.
163. Bonner (1949) 28-30; 58.
353
164. Leach (1986) 176-7.
165. Dawson (1965) 173-9.
166. Sandurska (1964); Brilliant (1967) 225; Brilliant (1984) 55-9; Leach (1988)
81-2.
167. Weitzmann (1970) 164-81.
168. Horsfall (1979) 26-48.
169. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81.
170. Ling (1991) 125-35.
354
Chapter 5: Flavian and Trajanic Continuous Narratives.
The period from 69 A.D to the end of the Hadrianic era represents a time during
which Imperial rule had become the undisputed norm for the Roman Empire. The
Flavian dynasty and the assumption of power by Trajan were founded on military
proficiency and success, so that public monuments tended focus on victory in war.
Extant Flavian reliefs celebrating victory continued the tradition of the Ara
Pacis in having no background and concentrating exclusively on human figures and
personifications. There is some possibility that the profectio and adventus of the
Cancellaria reliefs, featuring Domitian in both panels, may have been intended for a
related context and, if they had been set up as originally intended, would have
constituted a continuous narrative. However, there is no evidence for this
supposition, and the only confirmed continuous narrative from the Flavian years is
an unusual relief, the Minerva Frieze from the Forum Transitorium, representing the
allegorical use of Greek mythology for political purposes.
The full flowering of the historical continuous narrative style found expression
in two contrasting Trajanic reliefs. The Great Trajanic Frieze employed the grand
Hellenistic style to impress the viewer with the god-like accomplishments of the
emperor. The Column of Trajan, a lengthy account of two military campaigns that
continued to exert an influence on historical visual narratives into Late Antiquity
and beyond, placed greater emphasis on the attribution of Republican virtue to
Trajan and favored Italo-Etruscan stylistic elements. No continuous narratives are
355
known in the somewhat scanty remains of Roman painting from the mid- or later
Imperial periods.
The Minerva Frieze in the Forum Transitorium
Judging from extant remains, extensive narratives on Greek mythological
themes were never a prominent feature of visual storytelling on Roman public
monuments. Those that do exist, such as the sea thiasos from thr “Altar of Domitius
Ahenobarbus,” generally possess an allegorical content that serves to underline a
political agenda. The sole example of the genre in continuous narrative style is to to
be found in the frieze on a colonnaded wall in the Forum Transitorium, the site of a
temple dedicated to Minerva by Domitian in the last decade of the 1
st
century A.D.
The content of the frieze served to signify the support of the sponsor for the antique
values and morality of early Rome. Domitian claimed the special protection of
Minerva for the Flavian dynasty, as an element in a campaign aimed at acceptance
of the dynastic succession.
1
The temple and its associated wall formed part of a
program of cultural renewal, modeled on that of his predecessor, Augustus. The
program included both a building plan and a moral revival, featuring a return to
ancient virtue. Minerva was a suitable choice for the dedication, as she was a
warrior, a patroness of married women and of the craft of weaving, a craft
associated specifically in Roman tradition with virtuous matrons. She could direct
success in war and sponsor the renewal of moral values as the basis of Roman
greatness.
356
The temple itself is completely ruined, and only a fragment of the wall, which
originally circled three sides of the Forum, is intact. The frieze is arranged across
the recessed bays between the columns of the wall. Each bay is divided into the rear
wall, the two side walls and additional short
segments above the columns themselves. The
surviving sections include one complete bay, the
left side wall and part of the rear wall of the
succeeding bay, plus the right hand side wall of
the preceding bay (Fig. 99) I shall follow the
designations given the sections in Figure 99.
In the intact bay and the partial bay at the right the continuous narrative style
serves to link scenes of weaving and the work of virtuous women in the home with
the story of Arachne, who transgressed against the traditional status accorded
women in ancient Rome and was
punished for her transgression. In Section
4 (Fig. 100) on the rear wall of the intact
bay, Minerva can be identified at the
center by her helmet and aegis. She raises
her left arm, which possibly holds a
spindle, as if to strike a blow. Before her,
a woman kneels, with her arm
outstretched in supplication.
2
The scene
Figure 99. The Minerva Frieze.
Forum Transitorium, Rome. After
D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 45.
Figure 100. Minerva Frieze, Section 4.
Forum Transitorium, Rome. After D’Ambra
(1993) Fig. 57.
357
has been interpreted as the punishment of Arachne for her temerity in challenging
Minerva to a weaving contest.
3
Arachne, a young Lydian woman, was renowned for
her great ability as a weaver. Pride in her great skill caused her to engage Minerva
herself in a weaving contest. Arachne produced a tapestry of outstanding perfection,
but Minerva, greatly angered, tore her work to shreds and struck her on the head
with a spindle. Overcome with shame, Arachne hanged herself. Minerva revived her
and changed her into a spider, doomed to weave perpetually.
Peter von Blanckenhagen envisions the remaining scenes featuring weaving as
the preparations of the local weavers for the celebration of Minerva’s feast day, an
explanation which fails to account for the inclusion of the Arachne myth. An
alternative explanation is that the emphasis on
weaving, coupled with the punishment of Arachne,
provides a contrast between the tasks emblematic of
ideal Roman womanhood and the presumption of
Arachne, who overstepped the bounds of prescribed
womanly behavior. The Arachne myth, in
conformity with this reading, represents the
subversion of women’s place in society, an allegory
of the punishment that follows abrogation of the matronly virtues of modesty and
humility.
4
The punishment of Arachne is given prominence both by its central
position and by being placed directly below a a considerably larger representation of
Minerva in the attic.
Figure 101. Minerva Frieze,
Section 4. Forum
Transitorium, Rome. After
D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 55.
358
The remaining scenes to the left of center show earlier episodes in the story of
Arachne. At the far left a woman, seated in an elaborate chair before a swag of
curtain, holds a distaff before a standing woman (Fig. 101). Both women are
headless, but the scene probably represents Minerva teaching a devotee to weave.
5
It
is possible that the standing figure is Arachne, and that the incident represents an
earlier event in the story, since Ovid (Met. 6.1.23-25), the principal source for the
story, states that Arachne’s skill was thought to derive from the teaching of Minerva
herself. Although Arachne herself indignantly denied being a pupil of Minerva, the
scene may represent a revival of this supposition.
To the right of the first scene is a second indoor scene in which three women
hold a piece of fabric while a fourth
woman observes (Fig. 102). The
scene may be interpreted as either
Minerva or Arachne viewing her
weaving before the contest, the
headless condition of the woman at
the left again preventing a firm
identification. The central scene of punishment is to the right, followed by three
females hurrying towards Minerva, an old woman, a matron and a young girl (see
Figure 100). They represent the three stages in the life of a woman. They witness
the punishment and are required to draw the obvious moral conclusion: a woman
must consent to her predestined role throughout her lifetime. They function as a
Figure 102. Minerva Frieze, Section 4. Forum
Transitorium, Rome. After D’Ambra (1993) Fig.
56.
359
reinforcement of the message the frieze is intended to convey, emphasizing
Domitian’s support for traditional morality.
Two scenes at the right (Figs. 103,104) are genre scenes of women involved in
the work of weaving. They are linked with the story of Arachne and provide a
contrast to her arrogance, the women humbly fulfilling their appointed tasks, as did
the ideal Roman wife, Lucretia, in the
early days of Rome.
The scenes on the right hand wall of
the bay, Section 5 (Fig. 105), act as an
addendum to the central scenes. The left
hand scene is indecipherable because the
three figures have been removed. Two of
these figures were placed beneath an
awning.The third, probably a river or
Figure 103. Minerva Frieze, Section
4. Forum Transitorium, Rome.
After D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 59.
Figure 104. Minerva Frieze, Section 4.
Forum Transitorium, Rome. After
D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 60.
Figure 105. Minerva Frieze, Section 5.
Forum Transitorium, Rome. After D’Ambra
(1993) Fig. 61.
360
mountain god, reclined below a rocky mound that supports schematized rushes. The
juxtaposition of indoor and outdoor settings may have had some connotation for the
focus of women’s lives within the home. To the right of this scene a woman
displays a piece of cloth, while a second woman holds a pair of scales over a wool
basket.
6
A plausible explanation of this scene is that it represents the contribution of
industrious matrons to the household economy, the scales symbolizing the
supervision of household commodities and expenditure. Weaving traditionally
furnished such a contribution, supplying household needs or being sold to augment
income.
7
Section 3 (Fig. 106) provides an additional
gloss on the action in Section 4. At the left a
seated, veiled woman is identified as Pudictia
(Modesty) in accordance with named images on
Roman coins.
8
A woman in matronly dress
salutes her. The remaining women in the scene
are possibly nymphs, as they are associated with
a reclining river god. Pudicitia and the nymphs
could symbolize contrasting aspects of womanly chastity and profligacy, forming a
non-narrative addendum to the central scene and illustrating support for the theme
of ideal versus non-ideal womanhood.
Figure 106. Minerva Frieze, Section
3. Forum Transitorium, Rome.
After D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 50.
361
Section 7 (Fig. 107), on the left hand wall of
the succeeding bay, is difficult to interpret. It
consists of a seated woman holding a hank of
wool above the enlarged, outstretched hand of a
woman standing before her. Further women,
both seated and standing, are engaged in
weaving.
9
Section 8 (Fig. 108) is incomplete,
only about two thirds of its length being intact.
At the left a woman is seated on a rocky mound,
with three additional women standing beside
her. A semi-nude, male personification reclines
below. Minerva is seated to the left of center on
a rocky throne. She may be identified by her
sacred olive tree and the remnant of her helmet
plume. Two women stand before her, the closest one offering an object that may be
a hank of wool. Facing Minerva is a second woman seated on a rocky chair. At the
far right three women concentrate on a standing loom. Eve D’Ambra identifies the
scene as occurring at Minerva’s temple on the Aventine and does not consider it to
be a mythic event associated with the story of Arachne.
10
The personification is
interpreted as the deity of a road on the Aventine and the arched entrance beyond
the loom on the right as the entrance to Minerva’s precinct or a gateway to another
Figure 107. Minerva Frieze, Section
7. Forum Transitoriun, Rome. After
D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 68.
Figure 108. Minerva Frieze, Section
8. Forum Transitorium, Rome.
After D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 74.
362
part of the city, where a scene on the lost portion of Section 8 took place. However,
the association of women with an outdoor setting and a personification of the
countryside echoes the nymphs and deities on Sections 3 and 5, and this section of
the frieze may represent the nymphs, who according to Ovid (Met. 6.15-6) came to
marvel at Arachne’s skill. It also appears to concern an early episode in the Arachne
story, Minerva teaching young women to
weave. The girl who offers wool to Minerva
is possibly Arachne herself, and the women
at the right are setting up a loom to practice
the skills taught them by Minerva The small
sections fronting the pillars, Sections 2 and
6, contain personifications representing the
two major aspects of womanhood, as sexual
object and mother. Based on coinage, the
partially draped woman in Section 2 (Fig.
109) is Venus, and the woman seated on a
rocky mound in Section 6 (Fig. 110) is
Ruminia, patroness of nursing mothers.
11
The only intact portion of the preceding bay is
the right hand wall, Section (Fig. 111). The
scene shows a naked, male figure, either a
Figure 109. Minerva Frieze, Section 2.
Forum Transitorium, Rome. After
D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 49.
Figure 110. Minerva Frieze, Section
6. Forum Transitorium, Rome. After
D’Ambra (1993) Fig. 66.
363
deity or personification, arising out of a rocky hill down which a stream of water
flows. At the right, a man in a short tunic must represent a member of the lower
classes, either a slave or laborer. Blanckenhagen has proposed that this figure is a
fuller, come to draw water for his craft, thus providing an introduction to the scenes
involving weaving.
12
However, it cannot be considered strictly necessary to attempt
a correlation between this scene
and the activities in the bay to the
right. It was suggested as early as
1877 that the lost bays of the wall
may have featured narratives
dealing with gods other than
Minerva.
13
More recently, this
suggestion was modified by a proposal that the frieze was confined to displaying
various aspects of Minerva, a decoration more suitable for the precinct of her own
temple.
14
If the latter course was followed, Section 1 may be part of a different
narrative concerning Minerva Ergana, patroness of craftsmen.
Stylistically, the frieze leans heavily towards the Classical style, exhibiting
paratactic, static figures and an absence of defined background. The choice of
primary style validates the concept that the Romans elected mainly Greek styles for
portraying Greek myths. Roman eclecticism is evident in the inclusion of
Hellenistic motifs, such as the personifications of river gods and the Hellenistic
influence evident in the group of three running figures, representing age, maturity
Figure 111. Minerva Frieze, Section 1. Forum
Transitorium, Rome. After D’Ambra (1993).
364
and youth, in Section 4. The quality of the carving is quite variable. The figures in
Section 7 and 8 have slender, graceful proportions and crisper carving of the
draperies than in the remainder of the frieze, and Peter von Blanckenhagen has
attributed these sections to a different sculptor.
15
Conversely, the carving and
proportions on the two sections above the pillars, Sections 2 and 6, are cruder than
on the other sections. The representation of the draperies is rudimentary and the
proportions of the stocky, large-headed figures are reminiscent of the Italo-Etruscan
style. It may be that these minor sections were entrusted to local workmen.
Multiple, undivided scenes are present in most sections of the frieze, even the
shorter side panels, although narrative content is less defined in these subordinate
segments. The central episode of the Arachne story is on Section 4, arranged for
emphasis below the relief of Minerva on the attic. Two additional incidents in the
story are shown on the left and two genre scenes of weaving on the right. Loss of
the heads on most figures makes it impossible to state with certainty that the scenes
to the left constitute a continuous narrative, but it is likely that Minerva appears
three times and Arachne twice. Scenes are defined by swags of curtain in the
background and by standing looms, which also serve to indicate that the scenes
occur indoors. The participants are arranged in groups, clearly defined by back-to-
back figures, each group constituting a separate scene. The major events of the
Arachne myth are linked in a sequence of cause and effect by the continuous
narrative format, conveying a moral message. The first scene illustrates that
Arachne owes her skill to the teaching of Minerva, while the second scene
365
emphasizes her ingratitude in challenging her divine instructor. The punishment that
follows takes central place and the moral contrast between virtue and vice concludes
the section.
Section 4 is linked at the left to Section 3 by the continuation of a rocky hill,
impinging inappropriately on an indoor setting. However, this linkage serves to
enhance the approval expressed for womanly virtue on the rear panel, since Section
3 confirms the contrast between virtue and vice. Pudicitia is sitting on a throne-like
chair, indication of an indoor setting for the homage paid to her by the woman
standing before her throne. A woman, standing frontally at the center of the scene,
separates Pudicitia and her worshipper from the nymphs attending the river god at
the right. The motif of a reclining deity and a rocky mound is repeatedly employed
on the frieze to indicate the outdoors.
The first scene on the right hand wall appears to have provided an even more
marked contrast between indoors and outdoors, defined by the rocky mound and its
attendant deity on the left and the lost activities beneath two swags of curtain at the
right. The persistence of the weaving motif in the scene at the right, with its
connotation of virtuous women working within the home, suggests that the two lost
figures beneath the awning were a further elaboration of this theme.
Section 7 remains essentially mysterious. All that can be stated with certainty is
that it continues to involve the theme of women weaving, in the presence of seated
authority figures, who cannot be identified. Section 8 is more amenable to analysis.
The pile of rocks and a reclining deity indicate an outdoor, mythic setting for the
366
scene at the center, confirmed by the rocky seats of the women. The group of
women at the right is placed before a loom, with an arched entrance beyond,
possibly indicating a change to an indoor venue for the lost scene beyond. Its setting
may be the temple precinct of Minerva that is proposed by D’Ambra as a location
for the entire scene. The arch forms a definitive scene divider, so that, even if
Minerva and/or Arachne appeared beyond the arch, Section 8 would not meet the
requirements for a continuous narrative. Continuous narration that can be positively
identified is thus limited to Section 4 on the intact rear wall. In this section it is
extremely effective in linking the events of the Arachne story into a continuous
whole, while emphasizing the moral message of the myth by providing a contrast
between the unacceptable actions of Arachne and the accepatable behavior of
proper Roman matrons, in accordance with the political program of Domitian.
The myth itself is probably derived from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, as the
somewhat limited number of incidents correspond with Ovid’s version. The
designer has added some touches of his own, such as including the three ages of
women as spectators. He has also made extensive use of the rhetorical device of an
extended comparison, repeatedly contrasting the behavior of virtuous and depraved
women as a form of rhetorical persuasion. The story of Arachne and its inclusion in
the program of the Forum follow the prescription for the locus communis in
rhetoric, the insertion of a moralizing narrative in order to prove a point that the
orator has made. The Forum, as a whole, provides a rhetoric of praise for Domitian,
asserting his pietas and the protection afforded his dynasty by Minerva. The
367
decoration of the wall functions as an illustrative digression that proves a specific
point, the devotion of Domitian to the traditional values of Rome.
The Great Trajanic Frieze
The first of two monuments celebrating the success of Trajan in war is the Great
Trajanic Fieze. Although the monument honors an attested victory, it makes little
attempt to convince the viewer of the historicity of the narrative, relying instead on
an allegorical account, linking virtue and success in the continuous narrative style,
as a means of praising the emperor. Eight slabs of the relief sculpture are inserted
into the Arch of Constantine in groups of two. The slabs appear to celebrate the
victories of Trajan in the Dacian Wars of the early 2
nd
century A.D., and overlap of
figures between slabs confirms that they formed a continuous frieze in their original
situation. Plaster casts made from the slabs in 1937 (Fig 112a,b,c,d) have been used
to reconstruct the appearance of the intact frieze and are on display in the Museum
of Roman Civilization in Rome.
16
The remnants of partially erased figures and
armor at the margins of slabs 1 and 8 indicate that the frieze contained additional
slabs at the right and left borders, and various fragments have been found and
attributed to the frieze on the basis of size, style and content. The height of each slab
is just under 3m, and they are all 2.3m long. Even without extensions, the frieze it is
too large to have functioned as part of a triumphal arch, and it is probable that its
original location was on a wall in the Forum of Trajan, a situation in keeping with
the emphasis of the forum decorations on Trajan’s Dacian Wars.
368
Figure 112a. Plaster Cast of the
Great Trajanic Frieze. Slabs 1,2.
Museum of Roman Civilization,
Rome After Leander-Touati
(1987) Pl. 56.
Figure 112b. Plaster Cast of the
Great Trajanic Frieze. Slabs 3,4.
Museum of Roman Civilization,
Rome After Leander-Touati
(1987) Pl. 56.
Figure 112c. Plaster Cast of the
Great Trajanic Frieze. Slabs 5,6.
Museum of Roman Civilization,
Rome After Leander-Touati
(1987) Pl. 56.
Figure 112d. Plaster Cast of the
Great Trajanic Frieze. Slabs 7,8.
Museum of Roman Civilization,
Rome After Leander-Touati
(1987) Pl. 56.
369
The scenes on the frieze represent a conflation of at least two episodes,
occurring at different times and in different places, with no definitive scene dividers
between the separate events. The emperor Trajan appears twice in these undivided
scenes, so that the frieze may be classified as an example of the continuous
narrative style. The first slab features an adventus of the emperor and his army at
the city of Rome, and the remaining seven slabs recount events occurring during the
Dacian campaigns. The frieze employs continuous narrative to link cause and effect,
the virtus and superior ability displayed by Trajan and his army in the battle scenes
resulting in a triumphant return to the city of Rome.
In the adventus scene on slab 1 the city of Rome is indicated by a partial
archway at the upper left, an arch that would have overlapped into the preceding
slab and served to link the scenes at the left. A lance projecting over the arch from
the left must have been held by a soldier positioned on the previous slab. The center
of the slab is dominated by three figures in very high relief. The central figure is
that of the emperor. Part of his right arm is missing but it appears to have been
extended in a gesture of greeting. Trajan wears a muscle cuirass, a short military
tunic and a cloak. On his feet are the Gottestiefel, the high boots crowned with lion
heads that were traditionally reserved for the gods and heroes.
17
A winged Victory
hovers to the right of the emperor, her feet not quite touching the ground. Her right
hand is extended to hold a crown (now missing) over his head. Her fluttering
draperies extend over the border of the second slab.
370
To the left of the emperor is an Amazon-like personification, wearing a short
tunic that bares her left breast, a plumed helmet and lion-head boots. Her
iconography has been deemed suitable for either Virtus or Roma.
18
The
identification of the personification slightly to her rear as Honos favors the former
interpretation because of the coupling of the pair on coins.
19
This third
personification, whose identification is confirmed by coinage, appears as a young
man, standing in the second plane of the relief between Virtus and the emperor. He
is bareheaded, wears a muscle cuirass, cloak and boots similar to those of the
emperor and carries the fasces over his left shoulder. The third plane of the slab is in
low relief. Nine bareheaded Roman soldiers, seen in profile with standardized,
classisizing features, represent the army accompanying Trajan on his triumphal
return. Projecting above them, to the limit of the pictorial space, are eight lances
together with two cloth vexillae, one of which overlaps into slab 2. The only
indications of setting are the arch at the left and a rocky groundline in the forefront
of the scene.
The events of the war on the remaining eight slabs can be readily divided into a
number of distinct episodes. Anne-Marie Leander-Touti has characterized the action
as a battle to the right on slab 2; a battle to the left on slab 3; the charging army on
slab 4; the charge of the emperor on slab 5; defeat, flight and surrender of the
Dacians on slab 6; presentation of prisoners on slab 7; and soldiers proceeding to
the army on slab 8.
20
In the foreground of slab 2 two Romans engage two Dacians,
the Romans facing towards the right and the Dacians towards the left. Below these
371
groups a dead Dacian lies on his back in a contorted pose. In the background further
Roman soldiers can be seen in low relief. A few pine branches project into the scene
from the top right hand corner. Slab 3 again features two Romans attacking two
Dacians, but in this scene the Romans are on the right and the Dacians are on the
left, fighting above the bodies of dead and wounded Dacians. The heads of a horse
and soldier are visible in the left background, before some damaged tree branches
on which a single oak leaf can still be discerned. In the background at the right are
two horn players, heading towards the next slab.
Slab 4 features the entourage of the emperor and is closely linked with the charge
of the emperor on slab 5. This entourage consists of two cavalrymen and further
musicians. In slab 5 are three signiferi carrying the standards, closely following the
central figure of the charging emperor, who occupies the entire height of the picture.
Astride a rearing horse that tramples a crouching enemy, the emperor wears a
billowing cloak, a muscle cuirass and the lion-head boots of the first scene. His arm,
missing from the elbow, is drawn back, probably in order to deliver a lance blow to
a Dacian opponent on the succeeding slab.
The left portion of slab 6 is occupied by the recipient of the emperor’s charge, a
Dacian pileatus who bends on one knee to receive the onslaught. Behind him a foot
soldier faces a standing Dacian, who is turned to the right as if in flight, looking
back at his opponent. Two Dacians attempt to flee on horseback, but the wounded
horse of the foremost has sunk to the ground. At the right-hand border of the slab a
foot soldier faces the emperor, holding a severed Dacian head by the hair, and the
372
arm of another soldier projects from slab 7, holding a second head. An oak branch
can be seen in the background.
On slab 7 a further soldier holds a third severed head. An additional soldier is
seen in profile before a Dacian hut in the background, beside which is a projecting
pine branch. At the center of the scene a captive Dacian pileatus stands frontally
between two guards, looking towards the emperor at the left.,his hands bound
behind him. To his right a Dacian brandishing a curved sword menaces a mounted
Roman. This cavalry man, mounted on a horse that rears above two dead or dying
Dacians, is on slab 8. He raises his lance to stab the attacking Dacian. The
remainder of slab 8 is cut off by a diagonal, rocky divider, separating two cavalry
men who ride peacefully towards the left in the direction of the battle. This scene
occurs in the vicinity of a Dacian village, designated by a hut in the background.
The scene is terminated on the right by a maple tree, with a broken branch from
which a pail or basket hangs.
A consecutive consideration of the narrative elements that make up the Great
Trajanic Frieze indicates that there are problems involved in reading the frieze, the
most obvious being that an adventus should take place after a battle, not before. The
more usual Roman practice of reading visual narratives from left to right does not
apply to the frieze. However, Jocelyn Penny Small has described numerous
additional examples of ancient narrative in which this order is not observed.
21
Her
contention is that order was optional and was governed by considering a hierarchy
of importance in the placement of scenes, the central position being reserved for the
373
most important event. Most scholars continue to regard the adventus as occurring
after the battle on the slabs to its right, although a suggestion has been made that the
adventus refers to the end of the 1
st
Dacian War, in A.D. 101-102, and that the battle
is part of the 2
nd
Dacian War.
22
Viewing the battle slabs as a single, integrated scene
also presents difficulties. Leander-Touti’s division of separate activities on each
slab specifies a time progression from left to right, and there are also unequivocal
indications of a progression in space. Slabs 2 and 3 represent battles in which the
Dacians, although decidedly unsuccessful, are still offering resistance. Slabs 4 and 5
belong together, featuring the charge of the emperor and his suite. Slab 6 is devoted
to the Dacians who receive the charge and either crumble or flee. However, their
flight brings them up face to face with Roman soldiers holding severed Dacian
heads, who are flanked by a Dacian prisoner. Also partially on this slab is what
appears to be a return to hostilities, as an unvanquished Dacian faces off with a
cavalry man on the next slab. A definite rocky divider, of the type familiar on
Trajan’s Column, blocks off the final scene. Also of importance in defining separate
actions are elements in the background that indicate specific locales, consisting of
either tree branches or Dacian huts. Slab 2 has a pine branch and slab 3 an oak
branch. Slabs 4 and 5 have no identifying background indication of locality, and
slab 6 has an oak branch at the left. Slab 7 has both a pine branch and a hut. A hut
also appears in slab 8, and the slab is terminated by an entire maple tree, stretching
from top to bottom of the picture, except that the bottom of the tree is hidden behind
a shield that must belong to a further slab on the right, as it serves no purpose in
374
slab 8. In accordance with both place markers and action, the battle may be divided
into six conflated scenes. Slab 2, Leander-Touati’s “battle to the right,” in which the
Romans face right and the Dacians face left, is defined by the pine branch as
occurring out of doors, possibly at a high elevation, and constitutes scene 1. In the
“battle to the left” the positions of Romans and Dacians are reversed and change of
setting is indicated by replacement of the pine with an oak branch. This conflict
constitutes scene 2, a later stage in the battle. Slabs 4 and 5 and most of slab 6
contain the central event of both the battle and the frieze, the heroic charge of
Trajan at the head of his army and the resounding success of this charge,
constituting scene 3. The events on slab 7, the display of enemy heads and the
presentation of a prisoner, obviously occurred at a later time than the charge. The
presence of the emperor is demanded for the display of heads, but it is
inconceivable that this event took place while the emperor was actively engaged in
battle. A decided shift in scene is indicated by the presence of a pine branch, which
confirms a new location for this fourth scene. A Dacian hut in the background
determines a location for scene 5, the conflict between a Dacian and the cavalry
man on slab 7, and dead Dacians beneath the hooves of the horse indicate that this
location is a battle field, either the same one pictured previously or a different one.
The final scene, scene 6, is decisively separated from the rest of the frieze,
presumably taking place at a different time and in a different space.
The battle episodes in scenes 1 and 2 establish a reference for the central episode
featuring the emperor, allowing the viewer to comprehend that the charge was a
375
decisive event in a larger battle, and scene 4 represents the aftermath. The greatest
problems in deciding on the sequence and interpretation are posed by the two final
scenes. Leander-Touati has suggested that a return to battle in scene 5 is an
indication that the fighting is not completely over and pockets of resistance still
exist.
23
Renewal of battle could also function as a notification to the viewer that the
war itself is not over and a continuation can be expected in the lost portion of the
frieze. Scene 6 appears to be cut off, both from what went before and what will
follow after, as it is decisively divided from preceding and succeeding scenes. The
scene appears to refer to a quiet interregnum between more stirring events, as
Roman soldiers patrol peacefully in a village where daily life has resumed, as
evidenced by the basket hanging from a maple tree. It is even possible that the scene
indicates, very briefly, the intervening years between the 1
st
and 2
nd
Dacian Wars,
and that the lost sections on the right portrayed the second war.
An examination of the numerous
fragments attributed to the frieze may be
of some use in determining what scenes
were included in the lost portions of the
frieze. Three large fragments in the
Villa Borghese present evidence that the
continuation of the frieze included a
submissio of the type found on Trajan’s
Column, the emperor standing at
Figure 113a,b. Fragments from the Great
Trajanic Frieze. Villa Borghese, Rome. After
Leander-Touati (1987) Pl. 44.4, Pl. 45.
376
ground level before his massed troops (Fig. 113).
24
The fragment including the
Dacian petitioners has not been recovered. A fragment, now in the Villa Medici,
provides evidence that, in addition to ceremonials, more active scenes were
included. A Dacian crossing a river on horseback looks anxiously backwards (Fig.
114) Presumably he is attempting to escape. A similar incident, found on the
Column of Trajan (scene xxxi), is attested by
Cassius Dio during the First War. A Dacian attack
was routed and many fleeing Dacians drowned
while attempting to swim their horses across a
river. These fragments indicate that further scenes
from the war were included in the extension of the
frieze, either to the left or to the right.
It is of interest to note that if the extant scenes
in Dacia are separated from the scene in Rome,
the result is a progressive narrative, a time
progression within a single event, with the
protagonist appearing only once. Except for the tree and rocky scene divider
separating the final scene, the scenes of the frieze are defined mainly by the device
of back-to back figures, oriented in different directions. The linkage between the
conflated events, the adventus and the various incidents of the battle, is maintained
by a partial overlap from one scene to the next. At the edge of slab 1 Victoria’s
draperies and part of her left foot overlap into the next scene, obscuring the hind
Figure 114. Fragment of the
Great Trajanic Frieze. Villa
Medici, Rome. After Leander-
Touati (1987) Pl. 48.
377
quarters of a horse. The second vexillum is partly in the adventus scene and partly in
the battle scene. This overlap implies that the same vexillum, carried in battle, was
returned triumphantly to Rome. The Dacians terminating scene 1 of the battle and
initiating scene 2 are back-to back, and a soldier in the background, facing forward,
is partially in each scene. Scene 2 is firmly linked to scene 3 by the musicians at the
upper right corner, who are continuous with the musicians on slab 4. The two
horsemen, who belong to the battle in scene 2, face leftwards, and the musicians and
cavalry of the charge face towards the right. Terminating the charge and its fleeing
victims, the soldiers holding severed heads in scene 4 face the emperor, two on slab
6 and one on slab 7. The Dacian at the right border of slab 7 faces to the right, away
from the Dacian prisoner. The focus on this slab is leftwards, towards the emperor,
except for the defiant Dacian, who appears to ignore the scene on the left. Despite
the emphatic division between scenes 5 and 6, the tail of the cavalry man’s horse
overlaps into scene 6, indicating that the scenes are part of the same expansive
story. The portion of a shield at the base of the maple tree in scene 6 performs the
same function of linkage between this scene and whatever followed on the
remainder of the frieze.
The frieze is in the Grand style, modeled on the monuments of the Hellenistic
rulers. The style is reminiscent of the Hellenistic baroque, characterized by extreme
crowding on multiple levels that fill the entire pictorial space and by chaotic,
exuberant movement. The figures are derived from late Classical and Hellenistic
prototypes, drawn mainly from battle scenes, and a degree of eclecticism is
378
practiced in accordance with the subject matter. Depiction of the Romans relies
more on Classical types and that of the Dacians on Hellenistic models.
The message of the Great Trajanic Frieze is framed as a rhetorical and
allegorical statement of overwhelming success, attributed to the superiority of the
Roman army and the virtues of its supreme commander. On the Arch of
Constantine, the frieze has two inscriptions, probably added after adaptation to the
Arch; liberatori urbis ( to the liberator of the city) and fundatori quietus ( to the
founder of the peace). Per Gustav Hamberg has suggested that the implicit message
of the frieze in its original location was Virtus Augusti (the manly courage of the
Augustus), Gloria exercitus (the glory of the army) and Victoria Romanorum (the
victory of the Romans), all tags to be found on coins of the Trajanic era.
25
The
virtues and achievements of the emperor are firmly established by both the adventus
scene, where he is accompanied by Honos and Virtus and crowned by Victory, and
by his heroic charge at the head of his army, a charge which is presented as the
decisive event of the war. The association of Trajan with personified virtues is made
explicit by a coincidence of dress. Virtus, Honor and the emperor all wear the
Gottestiefel, the special high boots trimmed with lion-heads that were reserved for
gods and heroes. Both Trajan and Honos wear the muscle cuirass, the ceremonial
dress of the supreme commander, and Honos, Virtus and Trajan wear the short,
wide military cloak, the paludimentum.
Gloria exercitum is made manifest by the very evident superiority of the Romans
over the Dacian enemy. The Roman soldiers are shown as self-confident,
379
disciplined and united, whereas the Dacians are confused, over excitable and
undisciplined. The Roman have stereotyped, classical features, suitably grave and
lacking in expression, whereas the features of the Dacians are twisted with grief and
fear, perpetuating the dichotomy between civilized restraint and barbarian emotion
that originated on the Parthenon metopes as a method of distinguishing between the
Greeks and their barbarian enemeies.
26
A series of binary oppositions between
Romans and Dacians is promoted on the frieze , in order to emphasize Roman
superiority and provide a rationale and justification for Roman victory. These
oppositions embrace not only posture and expression but even relative position on
the frieze. The Dacians, both living and dead, are found in the lower portion of the
pictorial space, whereas the Romans occupy the upper regions.
27
The mounted
emperor is the only figure on the frieze to occupy the entire pictorial space, reaching
from top to bottom, and a hierarchical ranking of attributes is established, with the
emperor representing the highest echelon and the Dacians the lowest. This hierarchy
is reflected in dress, armor and equipment. The muscle cuirass of the emperor is
unique in the battle scenes, but the armor of the ordinary soldiers, described in great
detail, is also ceremonial in nature. The helmets of the Roman soldiers are of an
ancient Attic style, ornamented with elaborate plumes or crests, and their lances are
a ceremonial type not used in battle.
28
Conversely, very little attention is paid to the
dress or weaponry of the Dacians. They all wear the same tunic and trousers and are
shown with little individuality or elaboration. Even the trappings of the horses show
380
a hierarchical distinction, the horse gear of the emperor’s steed being the most
elaborate and that of the Dacian horses the simplest and most primitive.
29
The final victoria Romanorum is a natural consequence of Roman military and
moral superiority, and this victory is shown as overwhelming. There are no dead
Romans to be seen on the frieze, but dead and dying Dacians form the lowest level
of all battle scenes, where they are trampled beneath the feet of rearing Roman
cavalry horses, including the horse of the emperor. Only a single Dacian shows any
form of opposition to the Romans. The remainder are either dead, dying, defending
themselves against Roman attacks, fleeing or taken prisoner.
The frieze functions almost entirely on the allegorical level as a triumphal
monument for the emperor and his army and makes little pretence of being a realist
historical record. In the adlocutio scene Trajan is accompanied by allegorical
personifications symbolizing his virtue and success. He is heroized in the battle
scene, leading the charge in person, in defiance of accepted military practice. Both
Trajan and his army are clothed in ceremonial dress, with connotations of the
triumphal procession rather than the realities of battle, and these realities, in the
form of Roman deaths, are not permitted to intrude. The emperor’s horse and those
of the mounted Romans in the foreground are shown as rampant, about to crush a
kneeling or prostrate enemy beneath their forefeet. This pose is derived from
ancient battle topoi, and signifies heroic victory. Ada Cohen has traced its origin
from the Babylonian Standard of Ur, through Assyrian battle scenes, Greek vases
and Hellenistic and Roman commemorative monuments.
30
The motif of the rearing
381
horse is featured on a long side of the Alexander Sarcophagus (Fig. 115), an
allegorical representation
of battle between Greeks
and Persians that has much
in common with the
Trajanic frieze.
31
The
sarcophagus was probably
commissioned by King Abdalonymus of Sidon, who was placed on his throne by
Alexander in 332 B.C. The battle frieze commences and terminates with a Greek,
mounted on a horse that rears above the figure of a fallen barbarian. The rider on the
left is Alexander, identified by his lion-head headdress, adopted as a mark of
descent from Herakles. Between these two riders Greeks battle Persians in a series
of one-on-one encounters, as on the Trajanic Frieze. The poses of Alexander and
Trajan are closely similar, and both wear a flowing cloak, a Classical symbol of
heroic status. The allegorical nature of the Alexander frieze is made evident by the
semi-nudity of the Greeks, in contrast to the fully clothed barbarians. The
overwhelming victory of the Greeks is confirmed by the presence of five dead
Persians underfoot and only a single dead Greek.
The remaining pictorial narrative of Alexander’s wars, the Alexander Mosaic
(Fig. 116), also shows an affinity with the Trajanic Frieze. The mosaic was
excavated in 1831 from the House of the Faun in Pompeii and is thought to be a
copy of a late 4
th
century Hellenistic painting, the mosaic itself being dated to ca.
Figure 115. The Alexander Sarcophagus. Istanbul
Archaeological Museum. After Stewart (1990) Figs. 592, 593.
382
100 B.C.
32
In many respects the battle on the mosaic is more realistic than that on
the sarcophagus. The heroic duels have been replaced by a meeting between massed
armies that results in the flight of the Persians, surrounding the chariot of the
Persian king, Darius. Heroic nudity has been abolished, and Alexander is in military
dress. Great attention has been paid to details of the clothing and weapons of both
Persians and Greeks. The face of Alexander expresses only a grave determination,
but the expressions of the defeated Persians range from fear to horror and despair.
As on the Trajanic Frieze and the Alexander Sarcophagus, the victor is seated on a
rearing horse and draws back his right arm to hurl a weapon at an enemy. This
enemy is on a fallen horse, as is Alexander’s opponent on the sarcophagus. On the
Trajanic Frieze the emperor’s opponent is a foot soldier, but the motif of an enemy
on a fallen horse has been included. The action on the mosaic occupies less of the
Figure 116. The Alexander Mosaic. Naples National Museum. After Cohen (1997) Pl. 1.
383
pictorial space than it does on the sarcophagus, and the additional space is filled
with a frieze of lances, as it is on the Great Trajanic Frieze.
There are sufficient similarities between the two Hellenistic battle scenes and
the Trajanic Frieze to provide assurance that Hellenistic battle reliefs were highly
influential on the construction of the Roman frieze. The crowded battles of Scenes 2
and 3 relate more to the duels on the sarcophagus, whereas the charge of the
emperor and his army has greater affinity with the encounter on the mosaic.
Although there are few surviving scenes
of historic battle in Roman art prior to the 2
nd
century A.D., a number of mythic and
legendary battle scenes attest that the
Hellenistic model of battle had reached
central Italy by the end of the 2
nd
century
B.C. A late 2
nd
century relief from Isernia
(Fig. 117) is very evidently a crude borrowing
from the original of the Alexander Mosaic or
a similar lost work, representing both
Alexander on a rearing horse and Darius
fleeing in his chariot.
33
Provincial reliefs of
the 1
st
century A.D., on the Arch of Orange and the Julii Monument, feature mythic
battles that follow the crowded Hellnistic format, and the Julio-Claudian Mantua
Relief (Fig. 118), showing a legendary battle between Romans and Gauls, is
Figure 117. Alexander Relief. Iserna
National Museum. After Bianchi-
Bandinelli (1970) Fig. 32.
Figure 118. Battle Relief. Palazzo
Ducale, Mantua. After Strong (1976)
Fig. 40.
384
completely Hellenistic in concept. It includes the motif of the rearing horse, and
dead or living barbarians occupy the lowest level of the relief.
34
In the later
centuries of the Imperial era Hellenistic versions of battle continued to be an option
for commemorative monuments. The monument erected by Lucius Verus in 170
A.D. at Ephesos (Fig. 119), in order to celebrate
his Parthian victory, has a crowded Hellenistic
composition. The emperor is placed unrealistically
in a chariot, beneath whose wheels the dead and
dying Parthians exhibit agony and despair on their
twisted features.
35
The ultimate Roman
development of the Hellenistic battle scene is to
be found in the chaotic battle sarcophagi of the
late 2
nd
to mid 3
rd
centuries A.D., on which the entire pictorial space is filled with an
overlapping mass of battling bodies, at the center of which is the deceased, often
with portrait features. An outstanding example of these battle sarcophagi is the
Ludovisi Sarcophagus from the mid 3
rd
century (Fig. 120). The genre preserves
various standardized topoi of ancient origin, such as the barbarian mounted on a
fallen horse, the rearing horse trampling a fallen opponent and the division of
pictorial space, with the Romans triumphant above and enemies, dead, dying or
vanquished, below.
Although the Great Trajanic Frieze is framed in the context of Trajan’s Dacian
Wars, it has little to do with historical fact. It follows the prescription for the
Figure 119. Monument of Lucius
Verus. Kunsthistorisches
Museum, Vienna. After Hölscher
(2004) Pl. 22.
385
panegyric of epideictic oratory in Aristotle’s Ars Rhetorica (1368.10), whereby
praise may be amplified and historical reality glossed over. Both Cicero (Orat.
37.42) and Quintilian (Inst. 3.4.13) argued that
epideitic oratory should be showy and actions
should be embellished with a wealth of figures.
Comparison with outstanding historical
examples and the introduction of allegorical
analogs were considered particularly effective
methods of praise (Cic. De Or. 2.85.34),
providing a persuasive rationale for the introduction of Honos and Virtus in the
adventus scene and the parallelism between Trajan and Alexander in the battle
scene. Other rhetorical tropes employed to good effect are synecdoche, the nine
soldiers in the adventus scene standing in for Trajan’s entire army, and an extended
antithesis, the contrast between the Romans and the Dacians serving to provide a
reason for the overwhelming victory and a moral justification for the war. In
accordance with the divisions of argument in deliberative oratory, both Roman
historians and the persuasive arguments of Roman visual histories took into account
the topoi of expediency and morality in presenting the utility of military actions.
Cicero ( Rep. 3.37) saw the rule of the strong over the weak as a consequence of a
natural law that was ultimately of benefit to both the conquerors and the
vanquished, and Vergil (Aen. 6.851-3) viewed Roman superiority as a mandate to
Figure 120. Ludovici Battle
Sarcophagus. National Museum,
Rome. After Strong (1976) Fig. 139.
386
rule, bringing peace, justice and the benefits of civilization to the barbarians under
the sway of Rome.
36
Stylistically the Trajanic Frieze and its Hellenistic antecedents coincide with
Quintilan’s characterization of the extravagant Asiatic style (12.10.73), which he
described as vivid, dramatic, filled with emotion and subject to discontinuities and
rapid shifts of focus. Within the limits of a visual rather than a verbal narrative, this
description is remarkably suited to the battle scenes on the Trajanic Frieze., a vivid,
dramatic narrative with frequent shifts of focus and the incongruity of severed heads
displayed to Trajan while he is engaged in the heat of battle. The frieze appeals to
the emotions, arousing feelings of patriotism and pride in Roman achievement. The
pathos engendered by the sufferings of the defeated Dacians may be equated with
the Hellenistic concept of tragic history, embraced by Roman historians such as
Livy, who believed that history should arouse emotion and not be limited to the dry
and didactic reportage of facts. Tragic history, which appropriated the emotions of
pity and fear from the Aristotelian attributes of tragedy, concentrated on the
sufferings of the defeated and was promoted in the work of 3
rd
century Hellenistic
historians, such as Phylarchus. Tonio Hölscher has traced its use in Hellenistic
battle art, particularly the art of Pergamon, and its further application to Roman
scenes of battle, including the Trajanic Frieze.
37
On the frieze the dying Dacians
show visible wounds, often with drops of blood clearly depicted, and display
contorted, pain-wracked attitudes and suffering expressions.
387
The employment of rhetorical tropes and Hellenistic topoi of victory remove the
Trajanic Frieze from any association with objective history and place it firmly in the
category of allegorical and rhetorical panegyric, lauding the success of the Roman
army and its leader. The use of continuous narrative permits the viewer to make an
unequivocal connection between cause and effect. The battle scenes provide the
setting for the heroic charge of the emperor and its successful aftermath, leading to
a triumphal return accredited to the virtues of the supreme commander, each event
linked both materially and causally with its successor.
The Column of Trajan
The Column of Trajan (Fig. 121) is one of the most highly visible and best
known monuments of ancient Rome and also one
of the best preserved. The Column survived the
vicissitudes and iconoclasm of the Dark Ages and
the medieval period to become greatly esteemed in
the early modern era, as evidenced by motifs
adapted from the Column in Renaissance painting
and sculpture and the preparation of plaster casts of
the frieze for the benefit of three French
monarchs.
38
The Column represents a work of art
in which the continuous narrative style makes an
immense contribution to the overall success of the
narrative and to reception of its message. The narrative links the virtues and abilities
Figure 121. Column of Trajan,
Rome. After Coarelli (2000)
Fig. 13.
388
of an inspired leader in the Republican tradition and the backbreaking toil of the
army in inhospitable terrain to the achievement of ultimate and inevitable success.
The Column stands in the Forum of Trajan, situated originally to the northwest
of the Basilica Ulpia and flanked on either side by Trajan’s two libraries of Greek
and Roman texts. The shaft consists of a slightly tapered cylinder of Luna marble,
100 Roman feet (29.6m) in height. It rests on a square base, 13.5m to a side, is
supported on a torus in the shape of a laurel wreath and was originally topped by a
gilded statue of Trajan. A chamber in the base provides access to a spiral staircase
that led to an observation platform at the top. The reliefs on the base represent piles
of enemy arms arranged as trophies, and the
corners of the base are decorated with statues of
eagles, supporting oak leaf garlands in their
talons. An inscription, flanked by reliefs of
winged Victories, is placed above the door to
the inner chamber and staircase (Fig. 122). The
shaft itself supports a continuous spiral of
scenes from Trajan’s two Dacian Wars in A.D.
101-102 and A.D. 105-106, winding counter
clockwise from bottom to top and interrupted
only once by a representation of Victory,
standing between two trophies of arms and writing the names of the victors on a
shield. The spiral increases slightly in width from bottom to top, from 0.89m to
Figure 122. Column of Trajan ,
Base. After Coarelli (2000) Fig. 19.
389
1.25m, with a corresponding increase in figure size. The scenes are carved in low
relief and are arranged in the continuous narrative format, each scene blending into
the next. The narrative on Trajan’s Column was the basis for Franz Wickhoff’s
definition of the continuous narrative style, scenes from a single story arranged
against a continuous background and containing repetition of the protagonist, since
Trajan appears 59 times in the undivided scenes of the helical spiral.
39
Trajan owed his adoption by Nerva and his subsequent assumption of the
principate primarily to his qualities and successes as a military leader, and it is
natural that his Forum would stress the greatest of these victories, the triumph over
the Dacians that secured the frontiers of the empire. The forum was financed with
the spoils of war, and, according to Aulus Gellius (13.5), it was filled with statues
and other reminders of the Dacian campaigns. The context of the Column, the
subject of the spiral frieze, the trophies of arms on the base and the culmination of
the frieze in the great, gilded statue of Trajan emphasized the function of the
Column as a victory monument to martial success. However, the inscription above
the door makes no mention of the war, apart from including the title “Dacicus” in
the honorifics accorded to Trajan.
40
. Many ingenious ideas have been proposed to
account for the omissions in the inscription, but it continues to represent an
essentially unsolved mystery.
41
Cassius Dio (64.2.3) indicates that Trajan’s Column served as his tomb, the
ashes of both Trajan and his wife, Plotina, being encased in golden urns and placed
within the Column. This statement has resulted in a debate on whether the Column
390
was built to function primarily as a tomb, or whether it was assigned this purpose
only after Trajan’s death. The question of whether the Column was originally
intended as a memorial or as a triumphal monument has some relevance for the
interpretation of its message. Arguing against the idea that the Column was intended
for a funerary context from the beginning is the prohibition against burial within the
pomerium, the ritual boundary of the city. Hadrian would have had little difficulty,
considering the popularity of Trajan, in obtaining an exception to the prohibition
after Trajan’s death, as burial within the pomerium was an ancient tradition, an
honor reserved for some victors, as attested by Cicero (Leg. 2.23.58).
42
However, it
would have been considerably more difficult to make such a request, or for the
senate to confer such an honor, prior to the death and deification of the princeps,
and Hadrian himself built his tomb outside the pomerium.
The principal argument in favor of the Column having always been intended as a
tomb is the presence of a series of chambers in the base, a feature lacking in the
Column of Marcus Aurelius. An antechamber gave access to a staircase on the right
and to a second chamber on the left. The left hand chamber led to a windowed room
containing a masonry shelf, faced in marble and supporting two brackets suitable
for holding cinerary urns. Various functions have been assigned to these rooms,
including a suggestion that the shelf was a sacrificial altar and an idea that the
rooms were a repository for military memorabilia of the Dacian Wars.
43
Amanda
Claridge supports the alternative concept that the Column was not designated as a
tomb until after Trajan’s death, and, in addition, proposes that the spiral decorations
391
were also added in the time of Hadrian.
44
Trajanic coins showing the spiral and the
doorway in the base tend to refute the idea that either the tomb chamber or the spiral
were added in the time of Hadrian.
45
The suitability of the architecture and
arrangement of the rooms in the base to function as a tomb, together with the
similarity of the Column base to the design of Republican tombs and the prevalence
of symbols denoting apotheosis in the decoration of Trajan’s Forum, have led many
scholars to sanction the idea that the Column was always intended as a tomb for
Trajan, in anticipation of both deification and the necessary permissions.
46
Articulation of the Column as a tomb does not negate its triumphal purpose as a
demonstration of victory and success, both during Trajan’s lifetime and after his
death. It was customary, at least from the mid-Republican period, to decorate tombs
with records of success in war that functioned as a source of pride for descendants
of the deceased and as an assurance of memoria after death.
The erection of triumphal monuments and civic memorials was an accepted
component of Roman public life from the earliest period, and, according to Pliny
(HN 34.12.37), the Romans had already adopted the idea of raising honorific statues
on a column by the late 5
th
century B.C., for the purpose of elevating the honoree
above ordinary mortals. However, the arrangement of scenes in a continuous spiral
appears to have been a new departure, and the inspiration for this unusual format
has been assiduously pursued. The spiral arrangement of scenes has been attributed
to a variety of models, the earliest suggestions focusing on the illustrated book
roll.
47
However, as discussed in the first chapter, such illustrated rolls are unlikely to
392
have existed at the beginning of the 2
nd
century A.D.
48
Another possibility is that
the idea of the spiral was derived from triumphal paintings inscribed on a ribbon
(see G. Semper in Chapter 1), or that the custom of wrapping either garlands or
painted cloths around the columns of temples on feast days may have provided the
original model.
49
Despite the originality of the format, the content of the scenes on the Column
undoubtedly owes a debt to the triumphal and commemorative monuments of
Republican and Imperial predecessors. Josephus (BJ 7.139-52), for example,
indicates that the triumphal paintings of Titus included many of the same themes
that are to be found on the Column, battle, slaughter, siege, fugitives in flight,
suppliants and captives. As has been suggested for triumphal paintings, the source
of the scenes on the Column may have been field sketches made by artists
accompanying the campaign.
50
The subjects of these sketches were the two
campaigns waged against the Dacians under their capable leader, Decebalus. The
ancient source for this war is Cassius Dio, whose account, written in A.D. 207-219,
survives only as an epitomized version by Xiphilinus from the 11
th
century and as
an Exerpta made for Constantine VII in the 10
th
century. According to these
sources, the Danube had been established as the western frontier of the Empire in
the time of Augustus. Under Domitian, the tribes across the river, including the
Dacians, became hostile to Rome. In A.D. 88 Domitian made a treaty with
Decebalus, who became a client of Rome and received a subsidy to keep peace
along the frontier. According to Dio, Decebalus used the subsidy to arm his tribe
393
against Rome, the reason cited for the first Dacian War, which was intended to
punish the Dacians for breaking the treaty. The war ended when Trajan defeated the
Dacians in a major battle and Decebalus sued for peace. A year later the terms of
the peace treaty were violated, and, in the second campaign, Trajan advanced over
the new bridge built across the Danube by Apollodorus after the first war and
captured the Dacian capital of Sarmizegethusa. Decebalus and many of his nobles
committed suicide rather than suffer capture by the Roman army.
The Column of Trajan follows the campaigns in a chronological sequence, from
the arrival of Trajan and his army at the beginning of the first war to the mopping
up operations at the close of the second war. The scenes on the Column were not
available for detailed study until the end of the 19
th
century. The height of the
Column and the low relief ensure that only the lower spirals are completely visible
to a viewer on the ground. In addition, the helical arrangement of sequential scenes
necessitates circumambulation of the Column in order to follow the scenes in order.
The production of plaster casts of the Column for Napoleon III in 1861, their
assembly into a complete sequence and the photographic plates produced by Conrad
Chicorius in the 1890’s made the Column available in its entirety for the first time.
Early researchers, including Chicorius himself, made the assumption that the
Column represented an annalistic history in stone, providing an authentic record of
places and events, and could be used to clarify the course of Trajan’s war.
51
The
concentration of these earlier researchers was strictly historical, aimed at filling in
the gaps in ancient records and reconstructing the line of Trajan’s advance. Karl
394
Lehmann-Hartleben, in 1926, first realized that the Column reliefs had an extra-
historical dimension as a work of art and a significance and symbolism that went
beyond the bare record of fact.
52
During the remainder of the 20
th
century
investigations of the Column focused on art historical issues, and the most recent
interest has been in political ideology, message and viewer reception.
Research on the message and impact of the Column has accentuated the puzzle
of why such an elaborate and important work of art was constituted in a format that
would result in a very limited legibility for the contemporary viewer, leading to a
conviction that some method of viewing intrinsic to the Column made the essence
of the message visible to a viewer at ground level. Werner Gauer proposed the idea
of vertical correspondences.
53
By showing Trajan, slightly larger than other figures
and probably brightly painted, in a variety of repeated situations and actions visible
from any particular aspect of the Column, a viewer could gain a general idea of the
message. In addition, by placing significant events on the same vertical axis, their
importance would be emphasized. For example, the initial scenes of both invasions
are lined up, one beneath the other, on the southwest side. More recent analysis of
scenic arrangement has gone beyond the concept of vertical correspondences to
propose a complex visual linkage between specific scenes on various faces of the
Column, in order to form a distribution of figures grouped in distinct tableaux.
54
These tableaux are postulated to provide an illusion of continuity, making visual
sense and focusing viewer attention on the figure of Trajan.
55
Some skepticism has
been expressed concerning the validity of these complex schemes. Several scholars
395
are of the opinion that the proposals for viewing are far-fetched, too intricate and
unlikely to have occurred to the designers of the Column.
56
An alternative explanation for the illegibility of the Column may reside in the
apparent indifference of ancient artists towards the visibility of art works. The
Parthenon frieze, for example, is extremely difficult to discern from ground level,
and the reliefs on the Column have been likened to images in Gothic cathedrals that
were not intended for potential observes but for duration in eternity.
57
The clarity
and precision of the sculptured scenes at the summit of the Column are equal to
those that can be more readily seen near the base, leading to the assumption that the
Column was intended to be viewed by someone, as were the Parthenon Frieze and
the sculptures in medieval cathedrals. The obvious answer to the question of the
intended viewer’s identity is that these records were meant to be read by the gods.
Edith Porada has made the suggestion that the indecipherable reliefs high on the
palace walls of the Assyrian ruler, Ashernaserpal II, represent an accounting to the
gods, with whose help the victories were won.
58
In the specific case of Trajan’s
Column, the reliefs may have been intended primarily for the delectation of an
audience of one, Trajan himself, both in life and after death. When the Column was
designed it was probably abundantly clear that Trajan would achieve deification,
and it is also probable that the Column was intended, from the beginning, to
function as his tomb. The story on the Column would be completely
comprehensible only to someone such as Trajan, fully versed in the minutiae of the
war and familiar with arms, armor, tactics and the Dacian landscape. It would serve
396
as a justification to the gods for his deification and as a lasting memorial to Trajan
and his army.
The narrative of the Column was originally divided by Chicorius into 155
scenes, 77 devoted to the first war and an equal number to the second war, the two
wars being separated at the halfway mark by the representation of Victory.
The
number of scenes was reduced to 100 by Gauer but the numbering of scenes
adopted in this study is that of Chicorius. The direction of the action is from left to
right, and the extent of the scenes is limited, so that the majority can be seen in
entirety from a particular aspect of the Column. Lino Rossi postulated that all
scenes are in chronological order and that movement to the east or northeast, in the
forward direction of the spiral, represents movement towards Dacia, down the
Danube and away from Rome.
59
The content of the scenes was studied by Karl
Lehmann-Hartleben, who concluded that that they could be divided into six major
categories, and that similar scenes were repeated throughout the length of the
Column.
60
His six categories are as follows: 1) formal addresses 2) sacrifices 3)
building operations (including roads, fortifications and bridges) 4) Formal
interactions with the enemy, including receptions, embassies, interviewing of
prisoners and submissions 5) marches and journeys 6) battles. In effect, the story of
the wars as told on the Column is constituted from ceremonial scenes focused on
Trajan that are embedded in a framework of the day-to-day work of the army, and
there are surprisingly few examples of actual battle scenes. The first twenty eight
scenes, readily visible from ground level, contain examples of all the repetitive
397
scenes categorized by Lehmann-Hartleben, a strategy that may have been adopted to
counter the invisibility of the upper scenes and permit viewer appreciation of the
Column content and message. Trajan appears for the first time in scene v, holding a
council of war with his officers (Fig. 123). A formal address is exemplified by
Trajan’s first adlocutio (Fig. 124), and the scenes include the first of eight sacrifices
on the Column (Fig. 125), a suovetraurilia undertaken for the purification and
protection of the camp. Building operations, involving construction of a fort, a
bridge and a road, are
shown in scenes xi, xvi
and xix (Fig. 126), and
Trajan interrogates Dacian
prisoners (Fig. 127). The
arrival of the army at the
port is included, and the
Figure 123. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
vi. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 7.
Figure 124. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
ix. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 14.
Figure 125. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
viii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 55.
Figure 126. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
xvii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 16.
Figure 127. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
ix. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 10.
398
first battle is in scene xxiv (Fig. 128). Trajan is fully involved in all the activities of
the army. He is shown inspecting the work of fort building and road making. He
surveys the countryside and the location of a hillside fort. In the battle he is
directing affairs from his station on a rise at the left, and his status as commander is
emphasized, since it is to him that the heads of decapitated enemies are displayed.
These standardized scenes, with some variations and individualization, are
repeated throughout the Column. After a pursuit of the Dacians and a second battle,
the army reaches the capital city of Sarmizegethusa, where the last battle of the first
war is concluded by a great surrender, scene lxxiv, and the final address of Trajan to
his troops before leaving for Rome. The second war starts with the embarkation of
Trajan and his army from a port on the Adriatic. One third of the scenes from the
second war are devoted to the arrival and journey, and to the enthusiastic reception
accorded Trajan and his troops by the inhabitants of Roman occupied territories
along the march.
61
The parallel activities of the Dacians are shown, together with an
enemy attack on a Roman fort. This attack was repulsed, following on the arrival of
Figure 128. Plaster Cast, Column of Trajan, Scene cxl. Museum of Roman Civilization, Rome
After Coarell (2000) Pl. 22, 23, 24.
399
Trajan and the army after a forced march. Prominently featured is the crossing of
the Danube on the great bridge, built by Apollodorus in the years between the two
campaigns, and the advance, for the second time, on the capital of Sarmizegethusa.
The final battle is an elaborate representation of the assault on the city, including the
ritual taking of poison by the besieged inhabitants when the fall of the city is
inevitable. The remaining scenes encompass the suicide of Decebalus, the mopping-
up operations and the deportation of the populace. Finally, as the spiral once again
narrows and winds down, humans are absent and only the animals remain, as peace
returns to the countryside.
The style of the Column, which includes the use of continuous narrative, is of
equal or greater importance to the content in its contribution to the impact of the
Column on its audience. The Column of Trajan is an excellent example of Roman
eclecticism, the tendency to combine styles from the Greek and Italic past in a
single work of art. It has been cited as an example of mid-Italic style, unrelated to
Augustan classicism.
62
However, the modeling of figures and drapery on the
Column is firmly rooted in the Classical Greek tradition, while the more dramatic
scenes, battles, sieges and the death of Decabalus, have a greater Hellenistic content
63
The stiff angularity of pose and more static quality of scenes featuring solely
Roman activities is set aside in scenes of battle and descriptions of Dacian grief and
despair. The use of specific Hellenistic motifs has been noted, such as the pose of
the Dying Gaul from Pergamon, adopted for the suicide of a Dacian at the
conclusion of the second war (Fig. 129).
64
The limitation of the Hellenistic style to
400
dramatic incidents and the portrayal of barbarians is
consistent with the ideas of Tonio Hölscher, who
determined that the Romans employed the Hellnistic
style for lesser beings and barbarians.
65
The sculptors
of the Column appear to have adopted the idea of
equating simplicity with Romanitas. The figure of
Trajan, particularly when engaged in ceremonial
activities, tends to be dignified but somewhat awkward in pose. For example, the
final appearance of Trajan on the Column (Fig.130) has elements in common with
the Republican statue of the Arringatore. Trajan is
seen frontally, within a fortified encampment. The
wall of the camp has been cut away, so that he can be
seen in his entirety. He clasps his right hand to his
diaphragm, his left hand hanging at his side. His stiff
and static stance bears little relation to classic grace
and fluidity and lends support to Karl Lehmann-
Hartleben’s contention that Trajan’s Column
represents an art work from the beginning of the Late Antique.
66
The style and content of Trajan’s Column contribute to one of the more complex
messages in Roman narrative art. The Column can be read either as an historical
record, intended to convey information on the two Dacian campaigns, or as an
ecomiastic celebration of Trajan’s success. There is ample evidence that the scenes
Figure 129. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene cxl.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 166.
Figure 130. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
cxli. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 167.
401
on Trajan’s Column were intended to serve a didactic purpose, an intent consistent
with the plain style in rhetoric and with Otto Brendel’s “historical style” in Roman
art. Great attention is paid to providing realistic details of costume, weapons,
military equipment and techniques of the Romans, their allies and the barbarian
enemy. These details are amazingly precise, although they are not necessarily
pictorially realistic with respect to perspective and
proportions.
67
The dress worn by various
components of the Roman army, both legionaries
and foreign auxiliaries, is detailed in scene cviii
(Fig. 131), when the army is advancing through the
mountains. In the upper tier are the signiferi and a
Roman officer, followed by legionaries in traveling
dress. Below are auxiliaries belonging to a variety of
units in the army.
68
An equal attention to detail is
evident when Trajan interviews embassies composed
of different peoples from the eastern empire (Fig.
132). At least six different tribes or nations can be
identified by dress, physiognomy or hairstyle. The
same effort is expended on a careful delineation of
military equipment, siege techniques and camp life,
details which has been of use to military
archaeologists in reconstructing Roman methods of
Figure 131. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene cviii.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 132.
Figure 132. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene c.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 120.
402
warfare.
69
In scene lxvi Roman auxiliaries await a barbarian onslaught outside a
fortified camp. Inside the camp balisitae are visible, and a further weapon is
stationed in a protective enclosure built of stacked logs (Fig. 133). Scene lxxi (Fig.
134) illustrates the use of the testudo, a formation of interlocking shields employed
in a siege to protect the besiegers against missiles thrown from above. The reason
for the attention lavished on realistic details and the
didactic aspect of Trajan’s Column may be
considered as an attempt to provide an illusion of
reality and give historical veracity to the account on
the Column.
70
A further characteristic strengthening the
historical and didactic purpose of the Column is the
consistent intent of the narrative to provide a
maximum of information in a minimum of space.
The continuous narrative style is one aspect of this
endeavor. The Column also devotes an unusual
degree of attention to topography and the definition
of setting. However, in the process the illusion of
realistic space is sacrificed in the interests of
including as much detail as possible. A deliberately
primitive aspect of the style on Trajan’s Column,
frequently found in conjunction with continuous
Figure 133. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene lxvi.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 72.
Figure 134. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene lxxi.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 80.
403
narrative, is the use of variable perspective and proportions, particularly in the
representation of landscape and architecture. No attempt is made at a unified
perspective, each object having its own, individualized viewpoint, and the
background elements are usually small and out of proportion in relation to the
figures that dominate the foreground.
71
The frequent walled enclosures of camp and
city are usually shown from a high viewpoint in order
to reveal their contents and the action occurring
within their walls. Scene xliii (Fig. 135) reveals a
walled camp from above. Inside the enclosure are
crammed eight Dacian prisoners and two guards. A
single tent, indicating that the structure is a camp,
and a building with a barred window, presumably the
prison, are small in proportion to the humans. The
enclosure acts as a type of shorthand, conveying, in a
minimum of space, the Roman treatment of
prisoners.
72
The use of individualized size and
perspective is particularly apparent in the
representation of cities. The buildings and
monuments of a port city on the Danube are
delineated in such detail that they would
undoubtedly have been recognized by someone
familiar with the area (Fig. 136). Each building is
Figure 135. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene xliii.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 47.
Figure 136. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
lxxxvi. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 101.
404
shown from a vantage point which makes its characteristic features most readily
available to the viewer. All buildings are diminished in size, in relation to Trajan
and his soldiers in the foreground.
73
The use of unrealistic proportions and schematization is readily apparent in the
abundant representation of landscape and terrain on the Column. Trees have
progressed beyond the stick-like representations on Archaic Greek vases, and care is
taken to describe the various species by a careful
delineation of the leaves. However, the trees are
short and spindly, seldom taller than a man in height.
Mountainous terrain is indicated by trees and
schematized, rocky ridges, and water by wavy lines.
Scene xxiv shows soldiers filling water jars from a
stream (Fig. 137). The stream is seen from above and
appears to flow directly downwards, like a waterfall.
Schematization and inconsistent proportions of landscape and architecture serve
the same purpose as continuous narration, maximization of information in minimum
space. Details of topography are included without the necessity of providing a
comprehensive landscape background, compatible in perspective and proportion to
the human activities in the foreground. A further device, akin to the rhetorical trope
of syndoche, is employed on the Column for the same reason. A single soldier
represents a platoon, a single tree a wood and a single hut a village. Several units
together expand the meaning to an army, a forest or a town.
74
Such abbreviation is
Figure 137. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
lxxiv. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 85.
405
an obvious ploy to enable a more expansive account of the war to be displayed in
the available space and has already been noted on the Trajanic Frieze, where nine
background heads in the adventus scene represent Trajan’s entire victorious army.
Continuous narrative is an intrinsic and vital element in the style and makes a
contribution to the success of the Column as both a triumphal monument and an
historical record of events. The 100 to 155 scenes are arranged in an ascending
spiral with a single break, the figure of Victory at the midpoint, allowing a
connection to be made between scenes separated by a time lapse and fostering the
illusion of continuous action. The arrangement of continuous scenes in a helical
spiral is one of the most distinctive and innovative features of Trajan’s Column.
Although undoubtedly adopted in order to maximize the amount of information, a
constant preoccupation in the design of the Column, the continuous spiral makes
additional contributions to the impact and effectiveness of the narrative. Events on
the Column are not isolated but form a complex story whereby the daily tasks of the
army, the voyages, marches and battles, together result in final victory. The unity
provided by the continuous narrative style adds emphasis to the cumulative nature
of the various activities engaged in by Trajan and his army, and the spiral form can
be considered as uniquely suited to the story it attempts to convey. The repetitive
helices echo the repetitive nature of the tasks performed by the army, the idea of
two steps forward and one step backwards imposed by the difficulty of the terrain
and the ferocity of the Dacians in battle. The spiral, however, winds its way
406
inexorably upwards, culminating in Victory and the figure of Trajan triumphant,
each scene contributing in a cumulative and causal fashion to ultimate success.
In order for the sequence of events to be intelligible, a requirement for the
continuous narrative style is the adoption of methods permitting a viewer to
distinguish between activities occurring at different times and in different spaces.
The most common form of scene division is the inclusion of vertical framing
devices to mark the borders between adjacent scenes. In keeping with the concept of
the continuous narrative style, these divisions cannot be completely artificial and
must be related to either the background or the action taking place in the scenes.
The most definitive vertical divider employed on the Column of Trajan is a tree,
stretching from top to bottom of a helical band. Trees are used particularly at the
beginning and end of a series of scenes that together constitute a specific episode in
the war, such as the storming and capture of
Sarmizegethusa at the end of the second war.
Framing between groups of two trees apiece is used
to emphasize a particularly significant scene, such as
the final appearance of Trajan on the Column (see
Fig. 130). In scenes taking place in a forested
environment, a distinction is made between trees
serving as vertical scene dividers and those
functioning as landscape elements, by employing different species of tree for the
two distinct purposes. In scene lxvi (Fig. 138) a poplar tree serves as a scene divider
Figure 138. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene lxvi.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 75.
407
at the right, and in the scene itself Dacians are cutting down oak trees in a wood
outside Sarmizegethusa.
A second type of vertical divider is provided by the wall of a building. In
Trajan’s first adlocutio (Fig. 124) the wall of a fort being built in the succeeding
scene acts as a vertical boundary. A less definitive division is formed by placing
figures at the borders of adjacent scenes in a back-to-back positions. In scene xliv
Trajan bestows awards on his legionaries, and in the
next scene Dacian women torture naked Roman
prisoners (Fig. 139). The figures at the border
between the two scenes are facing in different
directions, the only firm indication of a change in
time and place, although a decrease in size of the
figures in the second scene also suggests a separation
between the sequential activities.
A final method employed to delimit a scene is the
use of a rocky divider, similar to the divider used to
demarcate the final scene on the Trajanic Frieze. An
example is provided by the scene in which Trajan
receives tribute from soldiers who are climbing up a
path edged with a wooden railing. A rocky divider,
with a schematized pathway zigzagging down
towards an arched doorway, separates the scene on the right (Fig. 140). This type of
Figure 139. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene xlix.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 48.
Figure 140. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene i.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 52.
408
ridge is also frequently utilized as a partial horizontal divider within a single scene,
dividing it into several segments. Horizontal dividers serve the same purpose as
they did in Egyptian narratives, usually defining several distinct spaces in which
separate events are occurring at the same time. An excellent example is scene xxx
(Fig. 141), the aftermath of the first battle, which is
isolated between two tree dividers. A horizontal
ridge bisects the scene for most of its width. Above,
at the left, soldiers fire a Dacian village. At the right
Trajan gestures towards a ship that will carry away
highborn Dacian women captives. Below the ridge
Dacian civilians are driven from the battlefield by
Roman soldiers. A further ridge at the right encloses
the bodies of slaughtered herd animals.
In some cases, when two scenes are separated by a long time lapse, a complete
change in location or a significant break in the action, this break is symbolized by
the use of more than a single vertical divider. Scene xci represents a sacrifice
offered at six altars, in an important town within the area along the Danube
controlled by Rome. It is the final event in Trajan’s journey at the start of the
second war. The subsequent scenes involve a Dacian attack on a Roman fort, and
they are separated from the peaceful scene of sacrifice by a double tree divider and
a vertical row of shields (Fig.142). It is apparent that the choice of scene dividers on
Trajan’s Column fulfilled additional functions, apart from enabling the viewer to
Figure 141. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene xxx.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 29.
409
decide where one scene ended and another began.
They could be used to indicate linkage between
scenes that constitute distinct episodes in the war,
serve to underline discontinuities of time or space, or
be employed to designate major incidents. It should be
emphasized that, in some cases, change of scene is
characterized only by abrupt changes in the
background. These changes are not a naturalistic
realization of continuous space but serve to set each scene in its own individualized
context.
75
The ultimate importance of Trajan’s Column in the context of contemporary
Rome resides in the message it was intended to convey. The earliest concept of
Trajan’s Column, promulgated by scholars such as Chicorius, who were themselves
historians, was that it served as an annalistic record of facts, based on a written
record.
76
As indicated above, the idea of the Column as an historical record is
favored by the evident desire to include as much information as possible, evidenced
by the height of the Column, choice of the spiral format and the continuous
narrative style, which permit the delineation of 155 individual scenes from two
wars. The concentration on geographic location, terrain, and recognizable features
of specific towns, together with the inclusion of realistic details of clothing, arms
and methods of warfare, all lend color to the identification of an historical intent in
the design of the Column. However, careful choice of episodes which redounded to
Figure 142. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene xci.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 108.
410
the credit of Trajan and his army has undermined the status of the Column as an
unbiased account of historical events. More recent scholarship has considered its
function as a triumphal monument celebrating the qualities of Trajan, and its role as
an instrument of propaganda validating success in the Dacian wars.
77
The historical
aspect continues to be acknowledged, and Werner Gauer has recognized the
historical content of the sequential events, which he has grouped into episodes
mentioned in Cassius Dio, but the situation of the Column in the Forum of Trajan,
the major monument of a program focused on success in the Dacian Wars, makes it
inevitable that the Column was intended as a triumphal monument to victory and
virtue.
78
The methods chosen to praise Trajan and his army are heavily influenced by the
criteria of rhetoric, particularly the rhetorical panegyricus. Careful selection of
episodes and the emphasis on ceremonials featuring Trajan indicate that the Column
functions, first and foremost, as a rhetoric of praise for Trajan and his army, and the
narrative provides a Ciceronian exemplum for the emulation of honorable deeds
(De Part. Orat. 69.70).
79
To the degree that a visual record may mimic a verbal
presentation, the images on the Column follow the prescription given in the Greek
and Roman handbooks of rhetoric for the organization of a rhetorical speech.
According to Aristotle (Rh. 3.16), the exordium, or introduction, was intended to
capture the attention of the audience, make them well disposed, and provide a
foretaste of what to expect from the speech. The base of Trajan’s Column, with its
trophies of arms, laurate torus and personifications of Victory, fulfills this function
411
of indicating the content that will follow, and the reference to booty implicit in the
trophies would tend to assure the approval of a contemporary Roman audience. The
narratio was a statement of events and facts, and, according to Quintilian (Inst.
4.2.31), these events were chosen to persuade. They could also function as proofs
for the premise of a speech (Inst. 4.45.59). It was not necessary that the events
should be in a completely correct time sequence, and they need not be the actual
facts, but only whatever it was expedient for the audience to know. On the Column
the narratio provides the required proof for the premise that Trajan is worthy of
laus and aemulatio. The conclusio, or peroration, was a summing up of the
arguments and an appeal to the emotions. On the Column of Trajan the Victory at
the halfway mark and the statue of Trajan triumphant at the top served as a
conclusio, arousing emotions of pride and admiration in the Roman viewer.
The Great Trajanic Frieze was also a component of the program of the Forum,
contributing to the glorification of the emperor. However, the method chosen on the
Column to actualize the preeminence of Trajan in the victory and to praise his
virtues was very different from the Hellenistic portrait of a god-like ruler
promulgated on the Frieze. Alain Gowing has set the end of Trajan’s principate as
the limit beyond which Republican ideas on virtue ceased to have any ideological
purpose.
80
However, Pliny’s Panegyricus, addressed to Trajan, indicates that in the
early 2
nd
century A.D. the ideal of Romanitas still provided a standard for Roman
leadership, and Pliny credits Trajan with recreating an atmosphere in which
Republican virtue is once again valued and rewarded (44.6). Pliny defines Trajan’s
412
good qualities in terms of standard Republican examples of virtue and praises
Trajan for devotion to the mos maiorum, a devotion which makes him fit to rule
(13.4-5). Trajan becomes an exemplar of the ideal leader of the state (73.4-5) and
Pliny postulates that the people see Trajan in the light of old-time Roman generals
(2.2; 76.9). On Trajan’s Column the role of the princeps in victory is couched in
the same terms employed by Pliny in the Panegyricus, an epideitic rhetoric of praise
for his possession of Romanitas and Republican virtue. The approach taken on the
Column adheres closely to Aristotle’s prescription for epideitic oratory, given in his
Ars Rhetorica. He states that the purpose of epideitic oratory is to make clear the
honorable and the disgraceful ( 3.16.8). The method of persuasion should be to use
examples from the past to illustrate praise and blame (3.17.10), and praise should be
founded in actions, not words, since acting according to moral principles is the
characteristic of the worthy man (1.9.32). The moral purpose of this oratory is to
provide examples for either emulation or avoidance, so that the audience may take
better counsel for the future (3.16.17). According to this exposition, the activities of
Trajan take on a new, extra-historical dimension as a rhetorical proof, attesting to
the accomplishments and virtues of the supreme leader. Trajan is present in 59 of
the 155 scenes on the Column. The selection of six repetitive activities can be
viewed as an exposition of the leading role played by Trajan in all aspects of the
campaign and as an affirmation of excellence. Such selection is validated by
Aristotle, who states “It is necessary to go through only those actions which form
413
the subject of the speech. To praise or blame famous people it is not necessary to go
through all their actions, because everyone knows what they did” (Rh. 3.15.16).
In this new, rhetorical context of the Column, careful choice and repetition of
illustrative activities displays Trajan as worthy of praise and emulation. Aristotle
states that the actions chosen for praise should be those esteemed by a particular
audience (Rh.1.9), and it is apparent that the image Trajan wished to project on the
Column was that of the perfect Roman leader,
possessed of the virtues validated by the mos
maiorum. The six categories of action on the Column
are expressly designd to illustrate those character
traits that the Romans considered preeminent in
ensuring virtus and elite status. The program on the
Column encompasses everything the ideal Roman
male should exemplify, not only courage but also
pietas, clementia, concordia, dignitas and auctoritas.
Throughout the scenes on the Column Trajan
demonstrates his auctoritas, his position of leadership
and ultimate responsibility for the outcome of the war,
since he is clearly in charge. He directs the battle,
receiving the emblems of success, the severed heads
of the enemy (Fig. 128), and leads the march on
horseback (Fig. 143) and on foot (Fig. 144). In the six
Figure 143. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
xcvii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 116.
Figure 144. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
lxxix. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 129.
414
sacrifices on the Column, Trajan takes the role of sacrificant, ensuring the safety of
the camp and the army, entreating the gods and offering thanks for success, a clear
demonstration of his pietas (see Fig. 66). In the great submission scene at the close
of the first war (Fig. 145) he displays clemency to the defeated Dacians, and in
numerous councils of war he and his officers plan the course of the war,
demonstrating the virtue of concordia (See Fig. 123). Trajan is ubiquitous in
inspecting and directing the work of the army, the building of roads, fortifications
and bridges, a clear indication of the industria of the Roman army and its leader.
When, in the solemn ceremony of the adlocutio, Trajan addresses his army, he
displays dignitas and gravitas (Fig. 124). Mounted on a dais, surrounded by his
officers and attended by the legionary standards, he speaks to his attentive troops.
At the start of the first campaign Trajan is introduced in the guise of a military
leader, conducting a council of war, and his second appearance is as a priest in the
suovetaurilia. In the numerous scenes of sacrifice on the Column Trajan is shown as
an intermediary between the gods and men, with no indication of superhuman
attributes. He is usually in military traveling dress, combining the attributes of
Figure 145. Plaster Casts, Column of Trajan, Scene lxxv. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After Coarelli (2000) Pls. 86, 87, 88.
415
general and priest, except in the suovetarilia, when he is priest only, with capito
velate.
81
Trajan’s role as princeps, the first among equals in the army and the state,
is made clear in scene xxxiv (Fig.146), one of the more symbolic scenes on the
Column. Trajan is shown as helmsman of the
flagship as the fleet sets sail on the Danube to relieve
the embattled legions in Lower Moesia., an analogy
for his role in steering the state and guiding the war.
The portrait of Trajan provided on the Column
emphasizes that the exercise of supreme power is a
duty, not a privilege.
82
Trajan is shown as the servant
of the people and there is no flattery in his portraiture.
In the great surrender scene he looks more like a judge than a conquering hero.
The careful attention to realistic details on the Column was intended to enhance
the implicit message, the praise of Trajan’s republican virtues. According to Cicero
(De Or. 3.104-5) provision of such details was very important in rhetoric, as it made
a speech appear trustworthy. The presentation on the Column is designed to
persuade the viewer that the scenes are a straightforward record of actual events, the
plain style and the deliberate use of archaistic conventions of size and perspective
serving to validate the historicity and honesty of the account.
In addition to incorporating Roman ideas on rhetorical persuasion, the detailed
historical content of the Column ensures that it was intended to be read as a valid
record of actual events and that Roman ideas on effective historiography were
Figure 146. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
xxiv. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 34.
416
applied to the construction of this record. It has been suggested that the historical
source for the events on the Column was Trajan’s own history of the Dacian Wars,
scenes on the Column representing an exposition of the text in stone.
83
Trajan’s
Dacica, a Commentarii de Bello Dacico,is attested by Priscianus (Inst. 6.13), who
quotes four words, the remainder of the text being lost.
84
Based on the structure,
historical content and style of Trajan’s Column, several scholars have proposed that
Trajan’s Dacica owed much to Caesar’s Commentarii de Bello Gallico, his
commentary on the Gallic Wars.
85
Caesar’s account starts with a description of the
geographical setting and terrain, similar to the initiating scenes on the Column, and
continues to place great emphasis on both topography and engineering details.
86
As
on the Column, Caesar is the central personage and his deeds are related in great
detail. Although the account appears to be an objective history, episodes are chosen
which are particularly flattering to Caesar, designed to persuade the reader to adopt
a favorable image of its author, and Caesar’s Gallic Wars may be classified as a
rhetorical history with encomiastic intent.
87
The account of the Dacian Wars on Trajan’s Column has many characteristics of
the rhetorical brand of history favored by Cicero and Livy. According to Cicero (De
Or. 2.36) history should be written by orators.
88
Cicero envisioned history as a
didactic instrument for moral persuasion, providing exempla of good and bad
behavior for moral exhortations. He (De Or. 2.63) believed that histories should
include not only the actions of a protagonist but also an estimate of his moral
character, although agreeing that a description of actions is also a means of
417
demonstrating character traits. The character traits that determine an ideal leader are
listed by Livy (22.3.4-5) and include pietas, concordia, disciplina, clementia, virtus,
dignitas and gravitas, the same Republican virtues attributed to Trajan on the
Column and attested by his actions. The Column follows Cicero’s prescription for
history, at least to the extent that a visual record can mimic a written account.
Cicero (De Or. 2.15.62-3) maintained that history consists of events and speeches. It
is required to have a temporal sequence and should contain a description of sites.
The author should indicate which deeds he approves or disapproves and provide a
character assessment of the major protagonists. The Column concentrated on
selecting deeds that either illuminated the character of Trajan or changed the course
of the war. Also in keeping with the Roman concept of effective rhetorical history
was the inclusion of tragic history on the Column, to an even greater extent than on
the Great Trajanic Frieze. The second war, in particular, features the type of event
favored by Hellenistic historians, calculated to arouse pity for the desperate plight
of the defeated barbarians. The siege and fall of Sarmizigethusa provided an
opportunity to demonstrate the horror and despair of the inhabitants, culminating in
the ritual suicides that were a feature of Hellenistic tragic history. The use of a more
Hellenistic style in these scenes emphasizes their relationship to Hellenistic methods
of historiography.
89
The unusual degree of sympathy and respect with which the
Dacians are treated on the Column has been noted in several sources.
90
The
narrative insists on their stubborn resistance, the courage of their mass suicide and
the pathos of the wretched families forced from their land and their homes.
418
According to Tonio Hölscher, recognition of the good qualities of an enemy does
not detract from glorification of the victors, because the conquerors are shown as
immeasurably superior to the defeated.
91
However, the attitude shown on the
Column towards the Dacians is also compatible with the epic tradition of the worthy
foe, exhibited particularly in the Homeric poems. Defeating a worthy opponent in
battle represented the height of glory, and the victor deserved greater praise than if
his enemy had been inferior or despicable.
92
Cassius Dio (67.6) portrayed Decebalus as a shrewd commander and a worthy
adversary. The history on the Column, however, displays a degree of ambivalence
in assessments of the Dacians as warriors. In addition to glorifying the victor, the
purpose of encomiastic historical biographies such as Caesar’s De Bello Gallico
was to provide a justification for the war. In this endeavor the histories followed the
prescription of deliberative oratory, employing arguments from either expediency or
morality (Quint. Inst. 3.8.31- 40). On Trajan’s Column arguments from expediency
are readily apparent. The Dacian Wars are portrayed as having secured the frontiers
of the empire and removed a dangerous threat to the stability of the state.
Arguments from morality relied on showing that the war was a just conflict. This
end could be achieved by demonstrating the moral superiority of the Romans over
their barbarian opponents, who would benefit by the conferral of Roman ethics,
Roman civilization and the Pax Romana. The narrative of the Column was required
to indicate the general inferiority and barbarity of the Dacians, when compared with
the civilized Romans. The actions of the Dacians on the Column are designed to
419
show that they are emotional and hasty, and emphasizes the superiority of the
Romans over the barbarians, as a result of greater discipline and self restraint.
93
Consequently, the Dacians, despite their fierce courage, are doomed to lose. There
are few battle scenes on the Column, a general characteristic of Imperial historical
art which Per Gustav Hamberg attributes to an emphasis on the Pax Romana.
94
Under the rule of Rome war had become unnecessary and the blessings of peace and
prosperity were bestowed on conquered nations.
Certain scenes on the Column are calculated to address directly the more
civilized approach to war exhibited by the Romans and contrast Roman
humanitarianism with Dacian barbarity. Scene xl (Fig. 147) shows the Romans
treating their own wounded at a field dressing
station, while the Dacian wounded lie untreated by
their comrades, and in scene xliv (Fig. 139) naked
Roman prisoners are tortured by Dacian women
wielding flaming brands. Furthermore, incidents
unfavorable to the Romans are strictly excluded from
the Column. There is no mention of the plot,
described in Cassius Dio, to have Trajan assassinated
by Roman deserters, very little attention is paid to Roman reverses and, as on the
Trajanic Frieze, there are no dead Romans on the Column.
95
This approach can be
correlated with the intent of encomiastic history to provide a justification for war.
Figure 147. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene xi.
Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 42.
420
In addition to the elements of rhetoric and rhetorical history on the Column, a
suggestion has been made that the narrative displays epic dimensions. The idea was
first proposed by Per Gustav Hamberg, who characterized the story as a
mythologized epic with cosmic and allegorical allusions, set in a framework of
historicizing facts.
96
Hamberg sees Trajan as an epic hero, around whom events are
grouped, and cites the repetition of stock scenes as characteristic of the repetitive
phrases used in epic to describe particular characters. He envisions Decebalus as a
great, tragic adversary analogous to Hector in the Trojan cycle.
97
Unlike the Greeks,
who restricted the genre to mythic and legendary subjects, the Romans did write
epics based on contemporary history. Pliny the Younger, in a letter to Caninus
Rufus (Ep. 8.4), indicates that he considers the account of the Dacian Wars to be
suitable for the epic Rufus is proposing to write. He lauds the subject as having such
great scope, an immense wealth of material and a poetic theme of almost legendary
stature, although the facts are true. Pliny supposes that Rufus will write of bridges
built over rivers, camps clinging to precipices, a king driven from his capital to find
final death, but courageous to the end, and a divine hero whose achievements will
be celebrated. As presented by Pliny, the material undoubtedly has epic
possibilities. However, an epic treatment does not appear to have been the approach
taken on the Column. Epic may deal with historical subjects but is permitted to
allow for the play of imagination and is not required to follow historical facts,
whereas the scenes on the Column are in reasonably good agreement with the
known facts.
98
Epic usually involves the intervention of the gods and is filled with
421
ambiguities, the fickleness of fate and chance. Despite
Hamberg’s reference to cosmic forces and allegorical
allusions on the Column, these allusions are very
limited, and allegorical figures are isolated within their
own enclosures in individual scenes. A subject of
debate has been whether they could be considered to
exert any influence of the course of events or are
included solely as an indication of time, place or the
conditions of nature.
99
The first personification is
Danuvius, the river god of the Danube, in scene iii (Fig.
148). He is benign in appearance and may indicate
assistance afforded to the Romans by river traffic, or
may serve only as an indication of place. The figure
identified as Night in scene xxxviii (Fig. 149) can be
assumed to denote a Roman attack under cover of
darkness, an interpretation confirmed by Dacians
sleeping under their wagons on her left.
100
Jupiter
Tonans appears in scene xxiv, the first battle (Fig.
150), where he directs his thunderbolt towards the
Dacians and could be assisting the Romans. Chicorius,
however, interpreted his appearance as denoting an
actual thunderstorm during the battle.
101
The
Figure 148. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
iii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 4.
Figure 149. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
xxxvii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 39.
Figure 150. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
xxxvii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 24.
422
significance of Victory at the halfway mark is readily apparent (Fig. 151). The
remaining female personification, in scene cl (Fig. 152) at the close of the second
war, has been variously interpreted as a second appearance of Night, sorrowing
Dacia or Diana.
102
From the limited use of supernatural presences or
interventions, it appears that the designers of the
Column took to heart Cicero’s dictum for the writing
of history ( Inv. Rhet. 1.27; Rep. 2.19.18-9), the
exclusion of the fabulous and the provision of a clear
distinction between history and legend. The
concentration of epic is on dramatic and fateful
incidents. It does not usually relate practical details and
the day to day activities of an army, with battles
subordinated to the daily round. Trajan is not presented
in heroic mode and makes a very prosaic epic hero. His
preeminent virtues are good leadership and foresight.
There are no epic duels on the Column and Trajan’s
heroic valor in battle is not demonstrated, as it is on the
Trajanic Frieze.The influence of tragic drama is also notably lacking in the story
told on Trajan’s Column, except, as noted by Hamberg, for the character of
Decebalus, who has all the attributes of a tragic hero.
103
He is a man of great ability,
Figure 151. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
lxxviii. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 92.
Figure 152. Plaster Cast,
Column of Trajan, Scene
cxlix. Museum of Roman
Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 175.
423
whose downfall is encompassed by a fatal flaw, a lack of foresight and careful
planning.
104
The Column of Trajan presents a concrete expression of Roman social and
cultural values. It functions primarily as a triumphal monument, a fulfillment of the
Roman desire for laus and gloria, and as a justification for the conduct of a war.
The method chosen to magnify the victory was to emphasize the historicity of the
record, so that it would be accepted as a valid reason for praise. Contributing to this
validation was adoption of the plain style of didactic rhetoric, together with a
realistic account of the war that depends as much on grinding toil, craftsmanship,
planning and dedication as it does on bravery in battle. The illusion of realistic
space is sacrificed in order to provide specific details of setting and terrain. The
Column presents a modest and unheroic portrait of the princeps, who is awarded
virtues characterizing Romanitas and the perfect Republican leader. Although the
two monuments celebrated the same victories in war and probably occupied
contiguous spaces in the Forum of Trajan, the Column provides a distinct contrast to
the Great Trajanic Frieze. The latter adopts both content and style from the
monuments of Hellenistic Greek rulers, whereas the Column embraces the traditions
of the Roman Republic for its impact and message. The Frieze involves the
allegorical recreation of a god-like hero to impress the viewer, while the Column
attempts to convince its audience of the historicity and actuality of the events
described. However, although the two monuments employ different methods, they
both have the same purpose of rhetorical persuasion and the same premise, that the
424
deeds of Trajan are worthy of respect, praise and emulation. Continuous narration
plays a decisive role in the success of the narrative on the Column. Without the
continuous style the journeys, ceremonials, sacrifices and battles would be episodic
and disconnected. The format links the events into a continuous whole, whereby the
virtus of Trajan and the industria of the army lead inevitably to ultimate success.
Conclusion
By the beginning of the 2
nd
century A.D. the various trends in the development
of Roman continuous narrative on public buildings were fully realized. The sole
extant Flavian continuous narrative relies on Augustan examples that utilize Greek
myth to endorse a political agenda. It adheres to the concept of using mainly Greek
styles for relating Greek myths, but promulgates a new departure, the combination
of myth with references to Roman tradition. The motif of women weaving in the
home recalls the legend of Lucretia, with its emphasis on the ideal Roman wife, and
it attributes to Domitian a respect for the moralistic traditions of the antique Roman
state.
The Great Trajanic Frieze represents a Roman adaptation of Hellenistic ruler
iconography for the triumph of an army and its leader, destined by the gods to
establish Roman control over the furthest reaches of a mighty empire. The Column
of Trajan is the fruition of developments initiated in Republican narratives, whereby
elements of Italic and lower class art were adapted in order to provide the portrait of
a perfect Republican general, skilled in warfare, devoted to the interests of Rome
and replete with traditional virtues. These two incongruous portrayals of the same
425
man were almost certainly placed in close juxtaposition in Trajan’s Forum,
providing representations of the princeps that, to modern sensibilities, appear
incompatible and contradictory. However, Roman ability to compartmentalize and
the education of the Roman populace in reading the rhetoric of Roman encomiastic
monuments enabled them to accept disparate versions of the reasons for Trajan’s
success.
On the Great Trajanic frieze continuous narrative was employed to link battle
and triumphal return in a sequence of cause and effect. The style is an integral
feature of the message provided on the Column, and this monument epitomizes the
Roman willingness to sacrifice logic and spatial realism for the purpose of
providing information and promoting a specific message.
426
Notes: Chapter 5.
1. D’Ambra (1993) 5-6.
2. Picard-Schmitter (1965a) 47-63.; Picard-Schmitter (1965b) 296-321. Marie-
Therese Picard-Schmitter believes that the scene and its associated scenes of
weaving represent Minerva receiving the homage of the weavers, an explanation
that does not recognize any allegorical context for the frieze.
3. Blanckenhagen (1940) 118-27; D’Ambra (1993) 15-7.
4. Leach (1974) 102-3.
5. D’Ambra (1993) 57.
6. Ibid., 58. D’Ambra identifies the woman with the scales as Moneta, a
personification of the Royal Mint associated with just government.
In her view,
such a personification is relevant to the theme of punishment for vice shown on
the rear wall. However, just government and monetary policy had little to do with
the lives of Roman matrons, and this explanation fails to account for the
continuation of the weaving motif in this scene.
7. Picard-Schmitter (1965a) 50. Picard-Schmitter identifies the women as Fates,
who are involved in weaving the life lines of human beings.
8. D’Ambra (1993) 56.
9. Ibid. 66-8.
D’Ambra has attempted to implicate the scene in the worship of
Diana of the Aventine, a protector of women whose cult included the offering of
garments and thread. This interpretation is based mainly on the dress of a woman
standing before a wooden frame, whose mantle is rolled at the waist in the
fashion of cultic acolytes. The explanation appears somewhat tenuous, and the
return of the focus to Minerva in Section 8, on the rear wall of the bay, makes it
less appealing. D’Ambra identifies the seated figure at the right as Diana, and her
mirror image as a cult devotee mimicking her actions. There is, however, no
iconography in the scene that confirms the identification of Diana and her
worship.
10. Ibid. 69-70.
11. Blanckenhagen (1940) 21; D’Ambra (1993) 61.
12. Blanckenhagen (1940) 120.
427
13. Blümner (1877) 5-36.
14. Schürmann (1985) 113.
15. Blanckenhagen (1940) 133.
16. The Great Trajanic Frieze has not attracted the same degree of attention as
Trajan’s Column. Since the publication of the casts, the following are the major
references on the subject: M. Pallatino (1938); P. Hamberg (1945) 162-180; G.
Koeppel (1969); W. Gauer (1973) 318-50; A. Leander-Touati (1987). Anne-
Marie Leander-Touati has published the most definitive study of the frieze,
which includes an extensive bibliography.
17. Stuart-Jones (1905) 216-23.
18. Leander-Touati (1987) 38-9.
19. Bieber (1945) 33; Hamberg (1945) 57; Vermeule (1959) 101; Koeppel (1969).
Among others, Bieber and Koeppel have opted for Virtus, whereas Hamberg
and Vermeule favor Dea Roma.
20. Leander-Touati (1987) 14-26.
21. Small ( 1999) 562-75.
22. Kähler (1965) 265
23. Leander-Touati (1987) 32. Leander-Touati appears to link the scene behind the
divider, also on Slab 8, with the Dacian who offers resistance. However, this
scene is definitively divided from the rest of the frieze on both sides, by a rocky
divider and a tree.
24. Gauer (1973) 329-31. The explanation of an adlocutio for this scene was
rejected by Gauer, using comparisons from the Column of Trajan. The emperor
stands at ground level in front of his massed troops. In adlocutiones on Trajan’s
Column he is usually elevated above them and they stand before the dais.
25. Hamberg (1945) 176.
26. The Athenians employed this distinction to good effect on the metopes of the
Parthenon, and the topos was incorporated into Hellenistic art.
428
27. Hamberg (1945) 170; Leander-Touati (1987) 77-8. Relative positions of the
Romans and Dacians were noted first by Per Hamberg and reiterated by Anne-
Marie Leander-Touati.
28. Leander-Touati (1987) 50. Leander-Touati links the use of ceremonial lances
with the propagation of ideas on sovereignty and majesty.
29. Ibid. 39-40.
30. Cohen (1997). In the original Near Eastern motif, the enemy was crushed by a
horse attached to a chariot. The rearing horse that tramples a fallen opponent
was introduced in the Late Classical period.
31. For discussion of the sarcophagus and its iconography, see Schefold (1979) 22-
3; Stewart (1993) 294-306; Cohen (1997) 168-9.
32. Cohen (1997) 51-82; Hölscher (2004) 31-3. The rationale for believing that the
mosaic is derived from a Hellenistic painting is extensively discussed by Ada
Cohen. See Hölscher for details of the iconography that support this belief.
33. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 29-30.
34. Ibid. 235. The positioning of the enemy in the lower portion of a frieze appears
to have been a Hellenistic invention. Bianchi-Bandinelli noted the placement of
the gods above and the giants below in the Gigantomachy on the frieze of the
Great Altar at Pergamon.
35. Hölscher (2004) 43.
36. Gruen (1984) 273-87. See Gruen for attitudes of the Greeks towards expansion
of the Roman empire.
37. Hölscher (2004) 31-45. Hölscher believes that the concept of tragic history may
have been incorporated into the triumphal paintings of the late Republic,
including the death of Mithridates and his entire family, pictured in the triumph
of Pompey. Caesar’s triumph of 45 B.C. contained details of the tragic deaths of
his enemies that, according to Appian, moved the crowd to tears.
38. Coarelli (2000) 16-8. The French rulers, Francis I, Louis XIV and Napoleon III
all obtained permission for the making of casts, and Chicorius’ photographs
were made for a German ruler. Coarelli speculates that this royal interest was
partly induced by a conception of Trajan as the ideal ruler, but the French
monarchy was particularly interested in reproducing antique art for purposes of
decoration and prestige.
429
39. Chicorius (1896): Gauer (1977). Conrad Chicorius originally divided the spiral
relief into 155 scenes but uncertainties as to where one scene begins and another
ends have led Werner Gauer to reduce the number of scenes to 100. The
numeration and divisions of Chicorius are followed in this account.
40. The inscription (CIL VI 960) declares that the monument was dedicated to
Trajan by the senate and people of Rome. After giving Trajan’s titles and
appointments, the final sentence reads as follows: Ad declarandum quantae
altitudinis mons et locus tant[is ope]ribus sit egestis. The portions in
parentheses have been obliterated and are subject to interpretation, but a
generally accepted translation reads “To indicate how high (was) the
mountainous place (that) was leveled to build a work of such magnitude.” See
Mansuelli (1969) 124-38. The inscription appears to indicate in the concluding
sentence that the purpose of the monument was to demonstrate the height of the
mountainous place that was leveled in order to build a work of such magnitude.
A passage in Cassius Dio (148.16.3) corroborates the message of the inscription,
stating that the entire area was hilly and had to be cut down for a distance equal
to the height of the Column, in order to make the forum level. However,
archaeological exploration in the late 1800’s revealed that the area occupied by
the forum was the site of previous structures of both Imperial and Republican
date and that removal of a saddle of the Quirinal hill was undertaken, not for
construction of the forum, but for the erection of Trajan’s market complex.
41. Coarelli (2000) 5-6. Filippo Coarelli, for example, has proposed that the
obliteration of the saddle would have involved destruction of important
Republican structures, including the Atrium Libertas and part of the original
walls of Rome, an action that would have offended the traditionalist sentiments
of the Roman populace.The Atrium Libertas housed the first public library in
Rome and also functioned as a basilica, a meeting place, so that the Basilica
Ulpia and the libraries served as a replacement for these lost structures.
42. Ibid. 12-4. Julius Caesar was accorded the same honor (Cassius Dio 44.7.1) and
Coarelli has drawn attention to the eagles decorating the corners of the base as a
symbol of apotheosis, opining that the Column was intended as a tomb from the
initiation of the project.
43. Luigi (1946) 333 suggested the idea of an annual sacrifice held in the tomb.
44. Claridge (1993) 5-22 supports the idea that the original purpose of the rooms
was to hold book scrolls and military standards.
430
45. Lepper (1988) 193-7. Trajanic coins depicting the Column can be divided into
those topped by a statue holding a spear and those in which the statue is
replaced by an owl. All the “statue” coins indicate both the base and the spiral,
though in some cases the direction of the spiral is reversed. Of the three coins
topped by owls, one has neither a base nor a spiral . The explanation of the
“owl” coins proposed by Lepper is that an actual owl perched on the
uncompleted column, was regarded as a favorable omen and consequently
recorded in coinage.
46. Zanker (1970) 499-544; Lepper (1988) 21-2; Davis (1997) 41-65; Coarelli
(2000) 25-6. Penelope Davis has ingeniously linked the spiral format of the
Column to its purpose as a tomb. The spiral forced a viewer to circumambulate
the tomb in the base, such circumambulation forming a part of many Roman
rituals, including funerary rites. Davis points out that the architectural
arrangements in the tombs of both Augustus and Hadrian force the visitor to
circumambulate the ashes in the central space.
47. Strzygowski (1901) 4; Birt (1907); Weitzmann (1971) 96. In this later
publication Karl Weitzmann acknowledged that such illustrated manuscripts
probably did not exist before the Byzantine period.
48. Coarelli (2000) 11.
49. Hamberg (1945) 125; Becatti (1960) 21; Lepper (1988) 208.
50. Rossi (1971) 35; Richardson (1982) 4. Rossi and Richardson have drawn
attention to the use of topographical symbols on the Column that have a marked
similarity to those employed on the Tabula Peutingeriana. Villages, for example
are shown as a few houses and large towns as schematized buildings enclosed
within a city wall.
51. Chicorius (1896); Petersen (1899); Stuart-Jones (1910); Wickhoff (1912) 124ff.
52. Lehmann-Hartleben (1926).
53. Gauer (1977) 48.
54. Brilliant (1984) 90-4; Settis et al. (1988) 218.
431
55. Del Monte, Ausset and Lefevre (1987) 403-12. The schemes of Brilliant and
Settis rely to a considerable extent on the assumption that the figure of Trajan
was brightly painted, making him easier to pick out from a low vantage point.
Recent scientific investigation of marble fragments from the Column indicates
that paint was applied to the Column, over a plaster overlay. Red was associated
with Trajan’s cloak and a yellow-orange with a tree trunk.
56. Lepper (1988) 29-34; Beard (2000) 269. Frank Lepper cautions against
attributing overly sophisticated methods of reading the Column to the designer,
stating that “he had enough to think about without devising exercises in
cryptography for the delectation of academic researchers.” Mary Beard opines
that “an interplay of emblematic scenes is unconvincing to anyone who has
stood in the Forum of Trajan or the Palazzo Colonna and looked upwards to see
only a jumble of legs.”
57. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 139; Coarelli (2000) vii.
58. Porada (1986) 15-24. Porada opines that the images were also intended to
provide a satisfaction for the king’s own self esteem and a personal reassurance
of his power.
59. Rossi (1971) 4ff; Lepper (1988) 34. Rossi’s conclusion is disputed by Frank
Lepper. He considers that the ideas on movement constitute only a trend,
pointing out that on several occasions succeeding scene move between actions
of the Romans and the Dacians that are occurring simultaneously in different
areas.
60. Lehmann-Hartleben (1926) 11-108.
61. Lepper (1988) 125-6 Lepper has explained the extended account of Trajan’s
journey as a result of the desire not to concentrate on warfare in the Second
War. Trajan had already taken the title of Dacicus and victory coins had been
struck. He did not wish to minimize the declared victory by emphasizing the
fighting in the Second War.
62. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1943)191.
63. Strong (1976)151.
64. Coarelli (2000) 210. The kneeling Dacian who raises his dagger to stab his own
chest mimics the pose of the Dying Gaul in the Pergamene votive statue.
65. Hölscher (2004) See note 32, Chapter3.
432
66. Lehmann-Hartleben (1926) 1-10.
67. Richardson (1982) 4
68. Detailed descriptions of dress and acoutrements are provided for eastern archers
in long skirts and conical caps, bare chested Germans and Balearic slingers.
69. Hannestad (1988) 159-60
70. Richardson (1982) 4; Brilliant (1984) 100; Hölscher (2004) 33. Richardson
attributes the great attention paid to military details and the apparent accuracy to
sketches made by artists accompanying the army, presumably for the express
purpose of making these sketches available for monumental or literary accounts
of the war.
71. Hamberg (1945) 110. According to Hamberg, the lack of consistent perspective
is less obvious in the case of human figures. However, each figure or group of
figures is also seen from its own viewpoint.
72. Lepper (1988) 29. Eight enclosures on the Column are shown from high vantage
points and, according to Lepper, the use of more extreme bird’s eye view
increases towards the top of the Column. This contention is borne out by the
three suovetuariliae on the Column. The lowest, in Scene viii, is viewed almost
from eye level, the second from a somewhat higher elevation and the last from
almost directly above.
73. An amphitheater outside the walls is seen in bird’s-eye view so that the interior
seats are visible, and an arch surmounted by a chariot is located on the wharf.
The town on the Adriatic from which Trajan departed on the second campaign
also has highly recognizable features, two temples and an arch surmounted by
three nude, heroic statues. The city has been tentatively identified from literary
accounts as Ancona.
74. Blanckenhagen (1957). According to Peter von Blanckenhagen’s definition,
these abrupt changes in background disqualify Trajan’s Column from
consideration as a continuous narrative. The definition adopted in this study has
been modified to permit such abrupt changes to be included in the continuous
narrative style. However, it should be noted that, as on the Telephos frieze,
certain sections of the Column are separated by definitive tree dividers
that isolate entire episodes, or even single scenes, from the continuous flow of
events. The narrative is also divided into two distinct halves by the insertion of
Victoria at the midpoint, in a scene that is symbolic rather than narrative in
intent.
433
75. Wickhoff (1912) 124.
76. Hannestad (1988) 158-9. Niels Hannestad, for example, sees the content of the
scenes as an instrument of Imperial propaganda, with a principal theme of the
superiority of the Romans over the barbarians.
77. Zanker (1970 ) 499-544; Gauer (1977) 55-75.
78. Coarelli (2000) 29. Filippo Coarelli has likened the stock episodes on the
Column to the topoi of a rhetorical speech.
79. Gowing (2003) 63.
80. Ryberg (1955) 109-14. Ryberg considers that the insistence on Trajan’s priestly
function was a measure to counteract the excesses of Domitian, who attempted
to introduce the cult of the living emperor.
81. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 226. Rannuccio Bianchi-Bandinelli attributes this
view of the principate to the influence of Stoic philosophy
82. Coarelli (2000)13-4.
83. The four words quoted by Priscianus are “inde Berzobim, inde Arzi
processimus.”
84. Brilliant (1984) 102; Lepper (1988) 17.
85. Leeman (1963) 106. Leeman has suggested that the De Bello Gallico is
probably a reflection of a general’s report to the senate in both style and
substance, its indirect style being a characteristic of such reports.
86. Fornara (1983) 186.
87. Cape (1997) 212-27.
88. Hölscher (2004) Hellenistic conventions of hieratic size in representations of
Decebalus, in both the submission scene and his final suicide, indicate the
employment of tragic historical conventions for these scenes and emphasize that
the Romans used the Hellenistic style for barbarians and lesser races.
89. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970)126; Rossi (1971) 19.
90. Hölscher (2004) 38-41.
434
91. See Gregory Nagy (1999) for concepts of the worthy foe in the Homeric texts.
92. Rossi (1971) 19; Hannestad (1988) 154-67.
93. Hamberg (1945) 110.
94. The plot, mentioned by Cassius Dio (68.11.3), planned to employ Roman
deserters, but they were captured and tortured before reaching Trajan.
95. Hamberg (1945) 104;
96. Strong (1976) 151; Brilliant (1984) 102. Hamberg’s concept of an epic
dimension to the Column has drawn some scholarly support. Ronald Strong
draws attention to the glorification of Roman victories and the heroization of the
defeated foe, both in the Homeric tradition. Richard Brilliant suggests that
Trajan represents the hero of an epic history play.
97. Fornara (1983) 175.
98. Lepper (1988) 32, 42, 68.
99. Hamberg (1945) 117.
100. Chicorius (1896) 11, 116
101. Lehmann-Hartleben (1926) 94.The suggestion of Diana relies on the sylvan
setting of the scene and the presence of wild animals.
102. Hamberg (1945) 117.
103. Lepper (1988) 130-1.
Frank Lepper has proposed an additional influence of
drama on the final scenes of Trajan’s story. The exodus is the portion of a
Greek tragedy between the final choral ode and the end of the play, during
which the actors withdraw behind the scenes and the chorus sings a few
concluding lines. Lepper envisions the scenes after the last appearance of
Trajan and the death of Decebalus as having traits in common with the exodus.
The minor characters conclude the mopping up operations, and in the final
scenes the stage is empty of players, only the scenic setting and the animals
remaining, as the spiral winds down.
435
Chapter 6: Antonine and Severan Continuous Narratives.
The major continuous narratives on public buildings of the 2
nd
century A.D.
were strongly influenced by the Column of Trajan. The Column of Marcus Aurelius
and the historical narratives on the Arch of Septimius Severus adopted both the
extensive record of events in a war and the continuous narrative style. This imitation
was presumably encouraged by the success of the Trajanic Column as an encomium
and by the respect accorded to Trajan himself. Although the format owed much to
the Trajanic Column, the image of the leader promoted on these monuments was
entirely different. Now that the egalitarianism of the Republic was a fading
memory, the emperor was presented as immeasurably superior to both the common
man and the aristocracy, closer to the gods than to his subjects, and the
representation of traditional virtue was in the process of being transformed into the
standardized and formal iconography of the Late Antique.
The innovation of burial in stone sarcophagi provided an additional opportunity
for private narratives that functioned as a eulogy of the deceased. Biographical
sarcophagi adopted motifs from elite monuments, particularly the Column of
Trajan, with the idea of attributing the virtues of an ideal leader to the occupant. The
mythological sarcophagi continued to adapt the iconography of Hellenistic art,
although those that employed continuous narration frequently added additional
scenes with a Roman genesis to the Hellenistic groups on the sarcophagi, providing
a more comprehensive explication of the story that was compatible with a Roman
desire to tell complete stories.
436
The Column of Marcus Aurelius
The impact of Trajan’s Column on both form and content of Roman triumphal
monuments is evident in the construction of at least three additional columns
featuring a continuous helical arrangement of the events in a war. The Column of
Marcus Aurelius was dedicated in A.D.180 and the columns of Theodosius and
Arcadius were erected in Constantinople in the 4
th
century A.D. The latter two
columns are lost, but Renaissance drawings indicate that the number of spirals was
reduced and the figures were considerably larger than on the Column of Trajan.
1
Despite its obvious similarities to the Column of Trajan, the ideological basis and
the message conveyed by the scenes on the Aurelian Column demonstrate a
progressive alteration from the concepts on which the earlier narrative was based.
The Column of Marcus Aurelius pays only cursory attention to Roman traditional
virtues. It is premised on portraying the emperor as a divinely appointed ruler and
the Roman army as an instrument fulfilling a god-given destiny to subdue the
barbarians and impose Roman rule on the known world.
The Column was erected on the Campus Martius in the area that is now the
Piazza Colonna, its purpose being to celebrate victories of the emperor over the
Germanic tribes along the Danube frontier. It is composed of nineteen blocks of
marble and, mimicking Trajan’s Column, is one hundred Roman feet in height. The
number of spiral bands is reduced from twenty two to twenty, the figures are larger
and the relief is cut much deeper. The Column is set on a square base and topped by
a statue of the emperor. The base was originally decorated with reliefs showing
437
ceremonies of the submissio. These reliefs were chiseled down in 1529, but their
subject may be determined from drawings. In 1896 a complete set of photographic
plates of the spiral reliefs was published by E. Petersen, who determined that the
spiral could be divided into 116 scenes versus the 155 on the Column of Trajan.
2
The scenes are separated by the figure of Victory at the halfway mark. The larger
figures and deeper relief result in greater visibility than is afforded by the Column
of Trajan. In addition, the scenes are less crowded with minutae and have fewer
figures. The background has been simplified, most scenes taking place before a
blank, textured backdrop, with few architectural or landscape elements. As a result,
figures in even the topmost scenes have a degree of visibility from ground level.
Richard Brilliant has concluded that the Aurelian Column represents a
celebratio to a far greater extent than it does a historio, concentrating on the
triumphal aspect of glorifying the emperor so that the historical content becomes
disjointed and episodic.
3
The number of ceremonial scenes featuring the emperor is
increased at the expense of the connecting narrative scenes detailing the activities of
the army.
4
Brilliant contends that dramatic and important events are centralized on
the principle face of the Column, the face visible from the Via Flaminia, producing
a vertical, paradigmatic arrangement that disrupts the narrative flow (Fig. 153).
5
The
episodic nature of the narrative may be due, in part, to the fact that Marcus
Aurelius’ Germanic wars were not a single campaign but a series of punitive actions
against a variety of tribes.
6
They did not feature a dramatic and tragic opponent such
as Decebalus and were not based on a definitive text such as the Dacica.
438
Consequently the narrative element is weak at best and dramatic scenes are
introduced out of context in order to retain the vertical arrangement of important
events.
An example of narrativity sacrificed to alignment is provided by the two
supernatural events that, in contrast to the exclusion of
divine intervention on the Column of Trajan, are
introduced into the narrative of the Aurelian Column.
Two “miracles,” both attested by Cassius Dio (61.8-10),
indicate the favor of the gods. Scene xxiv features the
Miracle of the Rain in the land of the Quadi. A
rainstorm occurred when the Roman army was under
siege, relieving the thirst of the besieged and sweeping
away the besiegers in a flood. The second miracle was
occasioned by a thunderbolt which struck and destroyed an enemy siege engine.
These two events occupy a prominent
place on the principle face of the Column
and may be seen in Figure 153.
7
In the frequent ceremonial scenes the
emperor is the focus of all attention. He is
usually shown frontally, elevated above
the other participants.
8
In the adlocutio of
scene xiv (Fig. 154), for example, Marcus Aurelius is on a dais, facing forwards,
Figure 153. Column of
Marcus Aurelius, Rome.
After Brilliant (1967) Fig.
66.
Figure 154. Column of Marcus Aurelius,
scene lxvi. After Brilliant (1967) Fig. 86.
439
and the aides on either side incline deferentially towards him. The soldiers below
gaze upwards in awe of his majesty. In the submissio of scene xlix (Fig. 155) the
emperor is again elevated at the center
of the scene and flanked by differential
figures. In contrast, Trajan, in the
adlocutio of scene ix (Fig. 124) stands
at the left in profile, and the two
accompanying officers to the rear do
not show any excessive degree of
deference. Conversely, the historical aspect of the Aurelian Column receives little
attention when compared with the treatment on Trajan’s Column. The careful
detailing of arms, armor and methods of warfare is lacking, as is the delineation of
topography and ethnography. Landscape has reverted to the blank background of
Greek vase art, with a few marsh plants or trees to indicate locale, and there are no
elaborate city scenes on the Aurelian Column. The
dress and physical characteristics of the barbarian
enemy merit scant attention, so that they become
almost interchangeable (Fig. 156). A further
difference from the Trajanic Column is the lack of
interest shown towards providing a moral
justification for the war. The conquest of inferior
peoples is regarded as the prerogative of the strong
Figure 155. Column of Marcus Aurelius,
scene xlix. After Brilliant (1967) Fig. 82.
Figure 156. Column of Marcus
Aurelius, scene lxi. After Strong
(1976) Fig. 146.
440
overcoming the weak. The Column shows scenes of Romans torturing and
executing prisoners, dragging off women captives and removing their children, and
it was not thought necessary to emphasize the moral superiority of the Romans over
their barbarian enemies. Instead, the brutality of war and the punishment of those
who dared to oppose the might of Rome is a constant theme on the Aurelian
Column.
9
On the Column of Marcus Aurelius the major preoccupation is with visibility
rather than with the delivery of maximum information, and the continuous flow of
events found on the Column of Trajan gives way to a jerky sequence of
discontinuous actions.
10
Nevertheless, the Column retains the continuous narrative
style and employs the same types of scene dividers found on Trajan’s Column. A
tree divider separates the adlocutio scene at the right hand border (Fig. 154) and the
submissio is delimited from the scene at the right by back-to-back figures (Fig.
155). A new type of border is introduced on the Column, a divider that bears little
relation to the action or to any element of background. In scene xxxi (Fig. 157)
Marcus Aurelius receives a barbarian
embassy against a completely blank
backdrop and the scene is closed off at the
right and above by an indented, cylindrical
ridge of stone that must represent the camp
wall, seen in completely planimetric view
from directly above, although the figures
Figure 157. Column of Marcus Aurelius,
scene xxxi. After Brilliant (1967) Fig. 85.
441
within the wall are seen at eye level. In addition, this scene illustrates the common
practice on the Column of placing figures on projecting, individualized groundlines,
similar to the groundlines found in the decursio on the column base of Antoninus
Pius (Fig. 39b). Also retained from the Column of Trajan are the archaic
conventions of individualized perspective,
inconsistencies in size and schematization of
landscape elements. The fortified camp in scene ci
(Fig. 158) is shown almost in bird’s-eye view,
crammed with soldiers, and the even larger soldiers
outside tower above the walls. In scene xxxiii (Fig.
159) schematized rivers provides two groundlines, supporting boats filled with
oversized soldiers, and also form scene dividers on both sides.
Stylistically, the Column of Marcus
Aurelius has come close to abandoning the
Classical model of figure carving that is still
evident on Trajan’s Column. The carving is
less crisp, the figures are stockier, the heads
larger, the features more promiment and the
representation of drapery has almost reverted
to the parallel lines of the early Italo-Etruscan style. These characteristics have led
Rannucio Bianchi-Bandinelli to classify the Column as an example of the plebeian
style.
11
However, the content of the scenes, the emphasis on glorification of the
Figure 158. Column of Marcus
Aurelius, scene ci. After
Brilliant (1967) Fig. 83.
Figure 159. Column of Marcus
Aurelius, scene xxxiii. After Brilliant
(1967) Fig. 96.
442
emperor at the expense of didactic and narrative content, his centrality and frontality
in scenes of ceremony, are an intimation of the Late Antique ceremonial style rather
than an insistence on Republican simplicity and
virtue. This conclusion is reinforced by the cursory
treatment accorded both soldiers of the Roman army
and the barbarian enemy. The three bowmen in scene
xv (Fig. 160) are standardized and interchangeable,
closer in their anonymity to the subsidiary figures on
the Arch of Constantine than to the highly individual
soldiers on the Column of Trajan.
Although the ceremonies illustrated on the Column of Marcus Aurelius still
relate to the virtues of auctoritas, pietas and clementia, these virtues can no longer
be considered to encompass a portrait of the ideal Republican leader. They have
metamorphosed into the symbolic attributes of a semi-divine ruler. The status of the
emperor is indicated by his hieratic, ceremonial pose, full length, frontal and
elevated above ordinary mortals, in contrast to the naturalism of the poses assumed
by Trajan, who is usually shown in the attitude most suited to his current activity.
The portrait of Marcus Aurelius as a ruler in preference to a competent general is
emphasized by his frequent appearances in toga, as in the adlocutio of Figure 154,
whereas Trajan invariably wears military dress, except when participating in the
solemn rite of the souvetaurilia. The sacrifices on the Trajanic Column are shown in
great detail, underlining the role of Trajan as intermediary between the gods and the
Figure 160. Column of Marcus
Aurelius, scene xv. After
Brilliant (1967) Fig. 107.
443
army and as both priest and commanding general, whereas the sacrificial scenes on
the Aurelian Column are perfunctory and abbreviated.
11
The sacrifice in scene lxxv (Fig. 161) appears to represent
no more than a slight hiatus in the action, sufficient for the
emperor to pour a libation at a small altar. No attendants
or sacrificial animals are in evidence. Little interest is
shown in Marcus Aurelius as a priest, attention being
focused instead on his role as a divinely chosen and
anointed ruler.
12
The treatment on the Column of Marcus Aurelius functions as a rhetoric with
epic dimensions. As on the Column of Trajan, the illustrative actions of the emperor
provide proofs for an epideitic oration of praise, although with a different premise,
the persuasion that Marcus Aurelius possesses the required attributes for the ruler of
a far-flung and glorious empire. His semi-divine nature is far closer to that of an
epic hero than the character attributed toTrajan on his Column, and the episodic
nature and intervention of supernatural forces are also characteristic of epic
narratives. However, Marcus Aurelius exhibits little personal involvement in battle
and has more the nature of a deus ex machina, a director of events, than the
character of an epic hero.
The narrative on the Column of Marcus Aurelius represents a further step on the
pathway leading away from Republican ideals. Stylistically, in narrative content
and in the symbolic character assigned to the emperor, Republican ideas are
Figure 161. Column of
Marcus Aurelius, scene
lxxv. After Ryberg
(1955) Fig. 68.
444
approaching the status of a nostalgic reminiscence of the distant past. The
contribution of the continuous style to an effective narrative is far less vital on the
Aurelian Column than it is on the Column of Trajan. It fails to coalesce the
disjointed narrative into a cohesive whole, and there is little continuity between the
conjoined scenes. The lack of a background also detracts from the effectiveness of
the narrative style. On the Column of Trajan the ever changing and continuous
background located events in space. The audience could imagine that they were
following Trajan and his army through the Dacian countryside, whereas the actions
on the Aurelian Column are detached, isolated and remote from the viewer.
The Arch of Septimius Severus
In the last major public monument of the mid-Imperial period exhibiting the
continuous narrative style, the Arch of Septimius Severus, the process of consigning
Republican ideals to the category of purely symbolic attributes was essentially
complete. The emperor is portrayed almost as a divinity, and the god-given mission
of the army to subdue opposition to Roman rule is made completely explicit. The
style, content and employment of continuous narrative have also departed further
from the model provided by the Column of Trajan.
The Arch of Septimius Severus was erected in the Roman Forum in A.D. 203, in
order to celebrate the victories of the emperor and his sons, Geta and Caracalla, in
several campaigns against the Parthians and their allies, conducted between A.D
195- 199.
13
The monument had the additional purpose of legitimizing the new
Severan dynasty, which owed its institution to the status of Septimius Severus as an
445
army commander and to his popularity with the legions under his control. This
purpose was attested by a lengthy, gilded inscription, covering the attic on both
sides of the arch and giving the titles and achievements of the emperor and his
sons.
14
The Severan Arch is a new departure in both triumphal and historical
monuments, as, for the first time on a commemorative arch, it combines a relatively
lengthy account of a war with the iconography of victory and triumph. Rectangular
in shape, the monument is pierced by three arched openings, a larger one in the
center and two smaller ones at the sides. (Fig. 162). Free standing columns,
supported on pedestals, are positioned in front of the
piers on either side of the smaller arches and are
connected to the entablature. Four historical panels are
situated above the smaller arches, two on each face of
the monument. The spandrels of the main arch on each
side contain four figures apiece. Pairs of winged
Victories above are extending trophies towards the
figure of Mars, who occupies the main keystone of the
arch. Below each Victory is a figure representing one of
the four Seasons, in the form of a winged youth. The lower spandrels of the side
arches are filled with figures of River Gods, in an abbreviated landscape setting.
Immediately below each historical panel is a narrow band of relief sculpture,
detailing the composition of a triumphal procession. The three exposed surfaces of
Figure 162. Arch of
Septimius Severus. After
Brilliant (1967) Pl. 1.
446
the pedestals that support free standing columns are decorated with relief panels
showing a Roman soldier and his Parthian captive. The decorative program of the
Severan Arch makes a connection between victory, triumph and the prosperity of
the Roman world. Success in war, detailed in the historical panels and the pedestal
reliefs, is celebrated by the Victories on the spandrels and the triumphal parades on
the smaller arches. The prosperity and fruitfulness resulting from peace are made
manifest by the Seasons and River Gods, symbolizing the arrival of the felicitas
imperii hymned on Severan coinage.
The exposed position and high relief of the panels has resulted in considerable
weathering, particularly to the figure of the emperor, whose image was especially
deeply cut. Assistance in deciphering the reliefs is provided by 17
th
century
drawings prepared by Pietro Bartoli and Cassiano Dal Pozzo respectively.
Unfortunately, the drawings are not always accurate, as can be ascertained even in
the present poor state of preservation of the panels, and many details of the narrative
are irretrievably lost.
15
The historical events that supply the basis for the narratives on the panels are
given by two contemporary historians, Herodian and Cassius Dio. Herodian (3.5.1)
regards the First Parthian War in A.D. 195 as no more than a prelude to the second
war, but Cassius Dio (75.1.1-3) distinguishes a first war against the Adiabeni,
Osroeni and Arabians, with the relief of Nisibis as its focus, and a second war in
A.D. 197-199 (75.9.13) against the Parthians. The Second War involved the siege
and capture of Nisibis, Seleucia, Babylon and the Parthian capital, Ctesiphon
.16
An
447
historical framework was required to support the narrative of the panels, and it was
necessary that it should embody a degree of accuracy in order to be effective as
Imperial propaganda. The accounts on the panels follow Cassius Dio’s record of the
war reasonably closely, and the prominence of city siege and surrender in the
campaigns was chosen as the focal point of the visual narrative. In 1676 J.M.
Suaresius was first to point out that the events related on the panels are grouped
around the siege and capture of four different cities, each taking place within a
specific topographic area.
17
Suaresius labeled the time sequence of the panels as
Panel I on the SE Forum side of the Arch; Panel II on the NE Forum side; Panel III
on the SW Capitoline side; and Panel IV on the NW Capitoline side. More recently,
Richard Brilliant has proposed that the panel order should align with the order of the
Seasons on the spandrels.
18
The order followed for the Seasons on Roman
sarcophagi is Winter, Spring, Autumn and Summer, and
Brilliant maintains that the
same order should be followed for the panels. The resultant labeling of the panels
becomes Panel I, SE and Panel II, NE, both on the Forum side; Panel III, NW and
Panel IV, SW , both on the Capitoline side. The cities involved in siege and capture
were Nisibis and Edessa in the First War, Nisibis again, together with Seleucia,
Babylon and Ctesiphon in the Second War. Since Nisibis was featured in both the
First and Second Wars, it is probable that its siege is included on the panels, and
Ctesiphon, as the capital city, should also be featured. Brilliant has assigned Panel I
to the capture of Nisibis in the First War, mainly on the basis of a figure with a
rotulus, standing in the gateway of an empty city after its capture
19
. He considers
448
this person to be a governor, left behind to govern the new Roman province of
Mesopotamia established after the First War, with Nisibis as its capital. He assigns
the city of Edessa to Panel II, an attribution relying on the hilly terrain, since
Seleucia and Babylon were in the flat plain between the Tigris and Euphrates. In
addition, Edessa surrendered without a fight, which is the situation of the city on
Panel II. The last panel must represent Ctesiphon, which fell at the close of the
Second War, and Brilliant has decided that Panel III represents the siege of
Seleucia, since Babylon was almost devoid of inhabitants at this time.
Each of the panels is 3.92m high, 4.72m wide, and the figures are 0.6 to 0.8
meters tall. The amount of space in which to relate the details of two wars was
considerably less than that available on the two historical columns, and some form
of synopsis was essential. Suaresius was also instrumental in drawing attention to
the composition of the panels, consisting of scenes arranged in registers, with the
siege of a city or a battle in the lower registers and a ceremonial involving the
emperor, either a submissio or an adlocutio, in the upper registers.
20
By the device
of reducing the action in each panel to the siege of a single city in a single
topographic location, omitting all scenes dealing with the day to day activities of the
army and concentrating on ceremonials, the designers were able to reduce the spiral
turns of the columns to the format of horizontal registers in a rectangular frame. The
registered panel has a long history in the record of Roman battle narratives,
commencing with the account of the Samnite war of 328 B.C. The panels have
characteristics in common with these battle paintings of the Republican era, and
449
they may have been adapted from large, descriptive paintings used in the triumph of
Septimius Severus. We know from Herodian (3.19.12) that the emperor sent such
paintings home at the conclusion of the campaign and ordered that they should be
displayed in public.
Panel I is greatly damaged (Fig. 163a) and
analysis must rely heavily on the Bartoli
reconstruction (Fig. 163b). The panel has three
registers and, as is the case for all four panels,
the registers are read from bottom to top.
Brilliant has numbered the scenes alphabetically,
in chronological order, and the same numbering
system will be followed in this study.
21
The
bottom register, Scene A, features the departure
of the army from its camp. The soldiers emerge
from a doorway in the wall and spread out in
both directions. At the right they climb a hill
which leads up to the second register, where a
battle is raging. The groundlines separating the
second and third registers do not extend all the
way to the right margin of the panel, so that the registers are essentially connected,
as are the continuous, spirally arranged scenes on the columns. From the battle
scene an enemy on horseback, probably the enemy leader, escapes on the right via a
Figure 163a. Arch of Septimius
Severus, Panel I. After Brilliant
(1967) Pl. 61.
Figure 163b. Arch of Septimius
Severus, Panel I, Bartoli Drawing.
After Brilliant (1967) Pl. 60a.
450
rocky pathway that emerges on the third level, before the walls of a depopulated
city, presumably the conquered city of Nisibis.
Both Bartoli and Dal Pozzo indicate that soldiers behind the camp in Scene A
overlap the groundline separating Scenes A and B, and the limbs of sprawling dead
and wounded in Scene B hang down into Scene A. Roman soldiers and the fleeing
enemy scramble up to the highest register in the area where the groundline becomes
indistinct at the right, but they do not impinge over the more defined groundline at
the left. Here the emperor, separated from the city by a rocky ridge, conducts the
final adlocutio, addressing his victorious troops from an elevated position. Panel I is
clearly a rather confused attempt to compress the spiral of the column narratives to
fit a rectangular, registered format, while retaining the continuous temporal and
spatial flow and attempting to link the activities of the three registers.
Panel II (Fig.164 a,b) is in better condition. It is also divided into three registers,
but these registers are complete and isolate
all three sections of the narrative from one
another. Continuity is maintained by
extensive use of continuous narrative, the
emperor appearing five times, often in
undivided scenes. In Scene A the Roman
army, surrounding a huge siege engine, is
approaching a city. The inhabitants, both
inside and outside the walls, express great agitation and do not offer any resistance.
Figure 164a. Arch of Septimius
Severus, Panel II. After Brilliant (1967)
Pl. 67.
451
The leader of the Romans undoubtedly represents the emperor, and an officer on an
internal groundline at the left could also
conceivably be Septimius Severus, engaged in
a ceremonial activity.
22
This officer forms
part of a group of four Romans in civilian
dress, who are elevated above three men in
the barbarian dress of trousers and Phrygian
caps.
23
Scenes B and C in the second register
involve an adlocutio at the left and a submissio at the right, both involving
Septimius. If the practice on the columns is followed, a submission occurs after a
battle, followed by an adlocutio, and the order of reading these scenes is from right
to left. A bird’s eye view of the siege engine is included between the two scenes,
encircled by its own rocky enclosure and jutting up into the register above, where it
acts as a reminder of the reason for success. The upper register has a group of men
at the left, surrounding the emperor. Beyond this group two grooms hold saddled
horses. The emperor and entourage are divided by a rocky ridge from two soldiers,
one mounted and the other leading a horse.
24
These cavalrymen are outside a walled
enclosure that appears to be a fortified camp, shown in semi-planimetric view with
the front wall cut down so that the figures inside are completely visible. Inside the
enclosure the emperor stands frontally before his officers. Richard Brilliant names
this scene as Scene D and considers it to represent a council of war occurring after
the adlocutio in the previous register.
25
The scene on the left, Scene E, is a departure
Figure 164b. Arch of Septimius
Severus, Panel II, Bartoli Drawing.
After Brilliant (1967) Pl. 66a.
452
scene, the emperor and his army leaving the area after their military tasks are
accomplished. However, the order of these two scenes may be reversed. The
definitive divider between the departure scene and the cavalrymen at the center
indicates a break in the action and suggests that these soldiers belong with the
fortified camp rather than supplying mounts for the emperor and his suite, a task
reserved for the grooms on the far left. The camp at the right may represent a
destination rather than a departure point. If Panel II features the initial campaign of
the Second War rather than the close of the First War, the camp may be situated at
or on route to a further city, indicating continuity between this panel and the next.
The soldiers in the center could be taking care of the mounts after the arrival of the
emperor, and the council could concern plans of attack rather than the details of
departure. The adlocutio on Panel I is a grander affair than the address on Panel II.
It is attended by the signiferi and the legionary standards and is altogether more
suitable for the conclusion of a war. If the camp represents Scene E, then the
sequence of reading the scenes follows the sequence of a flattened spiral, moving to
the right on the first register, to the left on the second register and again to the right
on the third register.
Panel III (Fig. 165) consists of only two scenes, each occupying a complete
register. However, both scenes are divided into two distinct levels by internal
dividers. In Scene A Roman soldiers assail a walled city, which is supported at the
center of the upper level on a rocky base. A river flows from its walls at the left, and
at the right a divider runs from the wall to the border of the panel. Some of the
453
inhabitants are resisting, and Roman soldiers
in the lower level below the walls raise their
shields to ward off missiles. However,
inhabitants are also fleeing from both sides
of the city, along the upper bank of the river
and along the ridge to the right, representing
a conflation of two distinct activities in a
single scene. At the lower right, the Romans
man a large siege engine.
26
Scene B is
completely separated from Scene A by a
solid groundline and is dominated by a
representation of the same city that appears
in the lower register. The city, situated in
the upper level of the scene, may be
recognized by its river, with the same,
peculiar, cistern-like structure in its waters,
and by a unique building with a roofed turret, which appears within the walls of
both representations. Projection of the tower in Scene A over the groundline of
Scene B proclaims a linkage between the two scenes. The repetition of the city in
both registers serves to indicate that the events on the panel all occur in the same
topographic location. Also in the upper level of Scene B, the emperor receives the
submissions of both the inhabitants of the city and a group of barbarians on a lower
Figure 165a. Arch of Septimius Severus,
Panel III. After Brilliant (1967) Pl. 77.
Figure 165b. Arch of Septimius Severus,
Panel III, Bartoli Drawing. After
Brilliant (1967) Pl. 76a.
454
level. Files of Roman soldiers to the right and left complete the lower level. Panel
III has a single appearance of the emperor, and the only firm reminiscence of the
columns is the complex arrangement of the two registers, with separation between
upper and lower levels within the same scene.
Panel IV (Fig. 166) is very similar in
construction to Panel III, two distinct
scenes in two registers, each being
subdivided into upper and lower levels. In
Scene A Roman soldiers on two levels,
separated by internal groundlines, man a
siege engine which is aimed at a city on a
rocky base. The inhabitants supplicate for
mercy with outstretched arms, while a
single escapee flees to the right. Roman
soldiers stand below the city, looking
upward. Scene B, in the upper register,
features an adlocutio by the emperor, who
is standing on an internal groundline with
his troops massed below. To the left, on an
even higher eminence, is a city, devoid of
inhabitants, presumably representing the Parthian capital. Below the town is a group
of officers and at least two horses, held by soldiers. The siege engine from Scene A
Figure 166a. Arch of Septimius Severus,
Panel IV. After Brilliant (1967) Pl. 87.
Figure 166b. Arch of Septimius Severus,
Panel IV, Bartoli Drawing. After
Brilliant (1967) Pl. 86a.
455
is to the left of the emperor. A group of men with horses stands below it, and a
saddled horse, intended for the emperor, is held in the top left hand corner. As in
Scene C on Panel I, the emphasis in this scene is on the end of a war, the final
adlocutio, complete with vexillae, the empty city and the preparations for departure.
This description indicates certain similarities in the construction, content and
composition of the panels. All four panels have buildings in the lowest and
uppermost registers. In Panel I these buildings are a Roman camp and a deserted
city. In Panel II a city is under siege in the lowest register, and a Roman camp is in
the highest register. In Panel III the same city is besieged in the lower register and
sues for peace in the upper register. In Panel IV a city is also under siege in the
lower register and lies empty at the close of the campaign in the upper register.
Belligerent action involves a siege in all panels except Panel I, where the middle
register shows the only pitched battle on the Arch. The deserted cities on Panels I
and IV may signal the end of a war, when the area will be resettled with Roman
colonists. The formidable siege engines of Panels II and IV make repeat
appearances in the upper registers, an emphasis on the Roman engineering skill that
was important in winning the war and an echo of the care taken to demonstrate
mechanical expertise on Trajan’s Column. The most anomalous of the panels is
Panel I, with its lack of a city siege and its attempt to mimic the effect of a
continuous spiral. However, all panels have reduced belligerent activity to a single
action, which is concentrated in the lower portion of the panel, reserving the upper
section for one or more ceremonials involving the emperor, either a submission or
456
an address. The tendency on the Aurelian Column to reduce the number of scenes
showing everyday activities of the army has progressed to the point where such
scenes are completely lacking. Of the twelve scenes on the panels, seven are
devoted to ceremonies, and the action has become totally episodic, with the
elimination of any linkage between siege and ceremony.
The influence of the Aurelian Column on the panels is, in most respects, much
stronger than that of Trajan’s Column, representing the continuation of a
progression towards the stylistic and iconographic conventions of the Late Antique.
The panels are primarily concerned with legibility and elevation of the emperor
above the status of his mortal subjects. They follow the Aurelian model of high
relief, reduction in the number of figures and elimination of linkage scenes, in order
to ensure that the emperor is highly visible. The panels also carry the concept of
vertical alignment to the limit of registration, with only important scenes included in
a vertical array. Simplification of the background, initiated on the Aurelian Column,
is continued on the panels, where actions are set against a similar, stippled
background with only an occasional tree or rocky ridge to indicate landscape and
terrain. Internal groundlines are prolifically employed on the panels, as they are on
the columns, in order to increase the amount of information that can be conveyed in
the available space. Their employment on the panels is far closer to their usage on
the Aurelian Column, where they are not integrated into the terrain but serve as
platforms to give prominence and symbolic meaning to some aspect of the
narrative, usually functioning to elevate the emperor and his suite. An example can
457
be seen on Panel III, where, in the upper register, the emperor and his companions
are balanced on two elevated groundlines to the right of a city.
The content and composition of the ceremonies on the panels are modeled after
similar scenes on the columns. The foremost figures in the submissiones and
adlocutiones are difficult to discern, as they have suffered much abrasion. Niels
Hannestad has suggested that these figures usually represent the emperor, flanked
by his two sons and backed by a wedge of anonymous heads..
27
The frontality of
the emperor and the centrality of the three scenes of address are derived from the
Aurelian Column rather than the Column of Trajan, where the emperor is usually at
the left hand side of the scene and is shown in profile.
The submissio in Scene B of Panel III is a combined submission of the
inhabitants of the city and of the file of barbarians below the city, both made to the
emperor, who stands on an elevated groundline at the upper right. The submission
in Panel II, Scene A, is made to the emperor at the head of his army, by the
inhabitants of a city. No precedent exists on the columns for such scenes. In the
remaining submission, also on Panel II, the emperor stands at ground level,
followed by his army. No similar submission occurs on the Column of Marcus
Aurelius, and this scene is probably modeled on the great submission of Trajan’s
Column, where the emperor, backed by his army, receives the obeisances of the
Dacians, although the orientation of emperor and petitioners has been reversed. This
scene is the most extensive and probably the best known on the Column of Trajan,
and was the starting point for delineating submissions on Roman historical reliefs.
28
458
The Severan panels have retained the use of schematized buildings and
landscape elements and the inconsistencies in size and viewpoint that characterized
the narrative on the two 2
nd
century columns. The cities in the lower registers are
invariably shown from high view points, either in planimetric elevation or from a
vantage close to bird’s eye view, and the buildings or enclosures are greatly reduced
in size in comparison with their human occupants. In contrast to the Column of
Trajan, where the viewpoint for enclosures becomes progressively higher as the
narrative proceeds up the column, buildings in the upper levels of the panels are
viewed from a considerably lower elevation. The two deserted cities in Panels I and
IV are seen at eye level, and the viewpoint for the city in Scene B on Panel III is
only slightly elevated. The partial planimetric view of the camp in the upper register
of Panel II permits the occupants to be seen without resorting to an elevated
viewpoint. According to Brilliant, the lower viewing level for scenes in the upper
registers is related to the concentration of ceremonial scenes in these registers.
29
The
viewer is constrained to stand before the frontal majesty of the emperor. The
beleaguered cities are all in the lower registers, and a high elevation is required in
order to view the activities within their walled enclosures.
Apart from rocky ridges, the only prominent landscape element on the panels is
the river Tigris in Panel III. It is represented as the usual wavy lines, seen in bird’s
eye view between its banks. The stippled background does away with the illusion of
spatial recession, and there is no attempt at a continuation of the background from
459
scene to scene, resulting in an enhancement of the episodic and disjointed nature of
the narrative.
On the Aurelian Column the stylistic conventions of Greco-Roman art were
already beginning to disintegrate, and progression towards the style of the Late
Antique continues on the panels of the Arch. The stocky figures, with
disproportionately large heads and coarse features have been described as a
reversion to the style of popular art and a deliberate abandonment of the Classical
tradition in favor of Italic conventions of art.
30
The style of the historical panels is,
however, not a regression to the past but an intimation of late antiquity, a distinction
recognized by Richard Brilliant.
31
He finds stylistic differences between the various
panels and assigns them to different designers, whom he has named the Antonine
and Severan masters respectively. He considers that Panels I and III still show the
influence of Classical ideas on style in figural plasticity. Panels II and IV, on the
other hand, have rejected the Antonine repertoire of figural types. They favor
anonymity and an emphasis on the centrality of the emperor, becoming the
progenitors of later Roman art. Differences in style cannot be correlated with
differences in composition and intent. Panels I and II on the Forum face of the Arch
are still attempting to mimic the continuous spiral format of the columns, whereas
Panels III and IV on the Capitoline side have a simplified structure of two registers,
less narrative content and greater concentration on ceremonials.
On the Severan Arch a stylistic dichotomy is also evident between dramatic
incidents and formal ceremonies and between barbarians and Romans. The
460
convention of employing Hellenistic styles for highly charged, emotional incidents
is retained to a considerable degree on the Arch of Septimius Severus. From
Bartoli’s reconstruction it appears that the single battle, on Panel I, was derived
from typical Hellenistic, crowded battle scenes and was similar to battles shown on
the Column of Marcus Aurelius (Fig. 167). The scenes of siege and/or flight on the
remaining panels also employed Hellenistic
motifs of enemies fleeing on horseback, with
streaming cloaks, and barbarians making
exaggerated gestures of submission or despair.
The movement and plasticity of these figures
provides a decided contrast to the static, blocky
and repetitive figures in the ceremonial scenes.
The Classical figural types favored for serious and ceremonial scenes in the earlier
Imperial period have been replaced in the Severan era by the undifferentiated
immobility of Late Antique art.
The historical panels on the Arch of Septimius Severus retain remnants of the
continuous style of their antecedents, the columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius.
Panels I and II show clear evidence of having been derived from a continuous
spiral, either by means of a reduction to interconnecting registers or by the
employment of continuous narration. The new continuous method displayed on
Panel I provides a linkage between scenes separated in time and space. It consist of
incomplete registration, as the ground lines separating the panel into three registers
Figure 167. Column of Marcus
Aurelius, scene xcix. After Brilliant
(1967) Fig. 94.
461
do not extend all the way to the right margin of the pictorial space.
32
The resulting
connections between the scenes on the panel cannot, however, be considered to
constitute a true continuous narrative. Identification of individuals on the panel is
difficult in the present state of preservation, but, according to the Bartoli
reconstruction, the emperor appears only once on the panel. The narrative may,
therefore, be considered synoptic. Panel II provides the only clear example of
continuous narration. The central register shows the emperor twice, and it is
possible that he also appears twice in the lowest register. The adlocutio and
submissio in the second register are combined with a representation of the siege
engine from the lowest register, linking the ceremonies that indicate success with a
symbol signifying the reason for victory, the superior arms and tactics of the Roman
army and its leader. In the Bartoli version, the upper register appears to contain two
undivided scenes, both featuring the emperor. However, close examination of the
original and the Dal Pozzo reconstruction indicates a definite, rocky ridge
separating the two appearances of the emperor. Such a separation may imply that
the left hand scene represent the final departure from the successful siege of a city,
separated from the initial arrival at a new location.
The panels on the Arch of Septimius Severus function as an epideitic rhetoric
dedicated to praising the emperor, a rhetoric that employs historical examples as a
means of persuasion. However, the premise of this glorification is not based on
attributing Republican virtues to the emperor. The ceremonies on the panels consist
of the submissio and the adlocutio, the submissio being symbolic of clementia and
462
the adlocutio of dignitas and virtus. However, the stiff formality and impersonalized
nature of the submissions robs them of human emotion and they have become a
symbol of success and victory rather than an expression of mercy. Niels Hannestad
has affirmed that the only praise on the Arch is directed at success on the battle
field.
33
The message conveyed by the Arch was that a restoration of peace and
prosperity resulted from the efforts of the new Severan dynasty, themselves the
recipients of divine favor. All four panels stress the might and invincibility
concentrated in the person of the emperor and symbolized by the massive siege
engines of the Roman army. Before this threat and the awesome majesty of the
Roman ruler, cities crumble with little resistance, barbarians flee or abase
themselves, and the Romans leave no dead on the field of battle.
The decrease in the historical content noted on the Aurelian Column has
intensified in the narrative of the panels. Although the panels are probably arranged
in correct chronological order and feature actual events in Septimius Severus’
Parthian campaigns, the reduction of these campaigns to four episodes of siege and
surrender has severely compromised their utility as an historical record. The wars
become essentially an opportunity to display the emperor in scenes of ceremony that
emphasize his supremacy and command of events. The conventions of tragic history
are observed in a cursory fashion, by adopting Hellenistic motifs demonstrating fear
and horror for portraying the barbarians, either defeated, fleeing or under siege.
The Arch of Septimius Severus is part of a Roman tradition that begins with the
Column of Trajan, consisting of the extended account of a recent war in relief
463
sculpture, displayed on a prominent public building. These records employed
various devices, including registration and continuous narration, to increase the
amount of information made available to the viewer. The narrative and historical
elements, so prominent on the Column of Trajan, have decreased steadily in its
successors to be replaced by standardized ceremonials with a largely symbolic
content. The continuous format was retained on the Aurelian Column, but on the
Arch of Septimius Severus continuous linkage between scenes is restricted to the
first two panels, where it serves as a reminiscence of the antecedent columns. It is,
however, completely eliminated from the remaining panels, with a concomitant
decrease in narrativity. The ceremonials that replaced narrative content are designed
to set the emperor apart from ordinary men and provide him with god-given
authority, as leader of the army and the empire. The ancient humanistic tradition
and belief in Republican virtue, still very evident on the Trajanic Column, were
giving place to a new, impersonal and monolithic authority centered in a divinely
appointed ruler.
Biographical Sarcophagi
A change in Roman burial customs from inhumation to cremation began in the
1
st
century A.D. and was essentially complete by the 3
rd
century.
34
The use of
marble sarcophagi for inhumation provided private individuals with an additional
opportunity for personal aggrandizement. By recounting meritorious deeds and
achievements in visual form the sarcophagi served the purpose of memoria,
remembrance after death.
35
Tthe earliest sarcophagi, from the first half of the 2
nd
464
century, tend to be individualized, detailing scenes derived from the life of a
specific individual, frequently in the continuous narrative format .In the latter half
of the century the biographical narratives on sarcophagi adopted a formulaic
iconography and style that were derived from 2
nd
century Imperial historical
monuments. In the 3
rd
century continuous narration was essentially abandoned in
favor of a single, heavily symbolic scene.
The earliest extant funerary commemoration with details of the Vita Humana,
the life story of a human being, is to be found on a monument discovered on the Via
Portuense, just outside Rome.
36
The monument, dated to the early 2
nd
century A.D.,
was first published in 1949 and consists of a funerary couch supporting a reclining
man and a seated woman. Below the couch is a frieze, covering all four sides of the
monument. The front panel is devoted to scenes of childhood and youth. The
continuous scenes include a woman watching the first bath of her infant son; the
infant learning to walk; the declamation or reading lesson of a youth; two children
playing with hoops; and a declamation delivered by a young man, probably
representing a first public speech. The frieze on the back and sides is heavily
damaged, but the remnants of scenes lead to the conclusion that they were devoted
to the private pursuits of a country gentleman, supervising the workers on his
country estate. The scenes are in the continuous format, without division between
sequential events, as is customary for Roman narrative sarcophagi with more than a
single scene on the same panel. Adoption of this convention is undoubtedly due, in
465
part, to the very limited space available on a sarcophagus, but in many cases the
linkage has an additional significance, involving narrative effect or message.
The scenes of adult life on the Via Portuense monument are completely
individual and are concerned with the private life of the deceased. By the Antonine
period a more formulaic iconography had developed for the biography of an elite
individual, a formula which included the performance of both public military duties
and the civic responsibilities of the upper classes. A group of sarcophagi from the
second half of the 2
nd
century are
known as the “generals’
sarcophagi.” Four closely similar
examples of the genre exist, in the
Los Angeles County Museum (Fig.
168), the Uffizi Gallery in Florence
(Fig. 169), the Louvre and the
Palazzo Ducale in Mantua
respectively. They contain four
standardized scenes on the front
panel, scenes which are read from
left to right and are in the continuous narrative style. Repetition of the protagonist is
firmly attested on the Mantua and Uffizi examples, where the general has
pronounced portrait features. It is somewhat less certain on the Los Angeles
sarcophagus, as the features are not as definitively individualized, and on the
Figure 168. Sarcophagus of a General. Los
Angeles County Museum of Art. After Ryberg
(1955) Fig. 92.
Figure 169. Sarcophagus of a General. Uffizi
Gallery, Florence. After Ryberg (1955) Fig. 91.
466
sarcophagus in the Louvre the heads are missing from all but one representation of
the general. Gerhard Rodenwaldt first interpreted the scenes as being symbolic of
the virtues of virtus, clementia, pietas and concordia.
37
Virtus is designated by a
scene crammed in at the left, representing either battle or the hunt.
38
The second
scene, denoting clementia, is a submission. The general wears a cuirass and kilt,
except on the Uffizi sarcophagus, where he is in military traveling dress. He stands
on a slight rocky elevation, facing right, and is backed by a female personification,
Roma on the Los Angeles and Mantua sarcophagi and Victory on the Louvre and
Uffizi examples. Before him is a cringing female barbarian, whose stooped pose is
identical on all four sarcophagi. A male barbarian stands behind her, and she is
accompanied by a child on the Mantua and Uffizi sarcophagi.
The central scene on the sarcophagi is a sacrifice, symbolizing pietas. The
general, in traveling dress, stands beside a small altar. On three of the sarcophagi he
is to the left of the altar, facing right and extending a patera over the altar flames
with his right hand. On the right of the altar a victimarius pulls down the head of a
bull, to receive the axe blow of the popa to the right. On the Los Angeles
sarcophagus, the positions of sacrificant and victim are reversed. Behind the altar is
either a sacrificial attendant or a flautist, and in the background is a frontal
representation of a small temple with an oak wreath on the tympanum. The scene on
the far right consists of the dextrarum iunctio of the marriage ceremony, the togate
general and his veiled bride clasping right hands, while Concordia stands between
467
the couple. A semi-naked amorino is also present, except on the Los Angeles
sarcophagus.
Although the details are somewhat variable, the four sarcophagi in the group
undoubtedly employ the same standardized scenes to indicate possession of the
Republican virtues that are praised on Imperial public monuments and were
considered by Livy to encompass the moral character of a Roman leader. The
reasons for choosing virtus and pietas to exemplify an ideal leader are obvious, as
they were the primary attributes endorsed by the mos maiorum. Clementia became a
popular attribute in the late Republican and Augustan eras and was attributed by
Livy (6.26.1) to Camillus, who spared the Tusculans when their city did not resist.
Livy stressed the origin of concordia in the struggle between the Patricians and
Plebeians (6.27.11), and it was a prominent feature of Augustan patriotic literature.
Choice of the dextrarum iunctio of the solemn marriage ceremony, reinforced by
the presence of Concordia between the bride and groom, presented a visual
exemplum of this virtue and also permitted the inclusion of a civic duty in the
catalog of meritorious actions.
Gerhard Rodenwaldt made the assumption that the imagery on the generals’
sarcophagi was derived from lost triumphal monuments, and subsequent analyses
have also concluded that the sarcophagi exemplify the cooption of Imperial
iconography for private use.
39
Although the sarcophagi are of Antonine date, the
primary influence is exerted by the Trajanic historical monuments of the early 2
nd
century. The style is closely modeled on that of the Trajan’s Column, with
468
classicizing figure proportions and drapery, except that the barbarians, particularly
the sinuous pose of the woman captive, are closer to Hellenistic style. The use of
small scale architecture in the form of a temple is also reminiscent of Trajan’s
Column, where such architecture is employed to convey information on the locale
of specific events. The stance of the general in the sacrificial and submission scenes
echoes certain poses of the princeps on Trajan’s Column. In the submissio the
general stands facing right with his weight on his left leg and his right leg slightly
bent. His right arm is across his body and his left arm slightly raised. This pose is
probably the most typical stance of Trajan on the Column, and can be seen in the
adlocutio of Figure 67. He is usually facing left and seen in profile, in contrast to
the centrality and frontality displayed by the emperor on the Aurelian Column. The
stance of the general in the sacrificial scenes also echoes that of Trajan in specific
sacrifices on the Column. On the Mantua, Louvre and Uffizi sarcophagi the general
stands to the left of a small altar, His right leg is
slightly back and his head inclined downwards.
He holds a patera over the altar and wears
military traveling dress, including a cloak. This
exact pose can be seen in scene lxiii (Fig. 136)
of the Column, the sacrifice on a wharf upon
arrival for the Second War. The anomalous
stance of the sacrificant on the Los Angeles
sarcophagus is identical to that of Trajan in scene xc (Fig. 170).
Figure 170. Plaster Cast, Column of
Trajan, scene xc. Museum of
Roman Civilization, Rome. After
Coarelli (2000) Pl. 106.
469
Despite the similarities between the sacrificial scenes on the sarcophagi and
those on Trajan’s Column, the sacrifices on the sarcophagi represent private rites
offered in the city of Rome. The possibility of a triumphal sacrifice is ruled out,
since full triumphs were limited to the emperor and his family in the Imperial
period. A nuptial sacrifice is also eliminated by the nature of the victim and the
traveling dress of the sacrificants.
40
The remaining possibilities are a private
sacrifice celebrating the return from a successful campaign, or a vota susceptum
seeking good auspices for a military command. The oak wreaths on the temples in
the background indicate that the sacrifice was to Jupiter, the correct deity for a
thanksgiving, and celebration of a successful return would result in a correct time
sequence of battle, submission and celebration.
41
The cringing pose of the barbarian woman in the submissio is closely similar on
all four sarcophagi, and it is probable that the figure is derived from an Imperial
triumphal monument. A comparable figure cannot be found on either the Trajanic or
Aurleian Columns, and it may have appeared originally on some other monument in
Forum of Trajan. The child who accompanies the woman on two of the sarcophagi
may have been part of the same group. The barbarian behind the woman on the Los
Angeles sarcophagus is typical of lower class Dacians on Trajan’s Column, with
regard to both dress and hairstyle, and the woman on the Uffizi sarcophagus has a
hairstyle characteristic of Dacian women on the Column.
The abbreviated scenes at the far left of the sarcophagi are more Hellenistic in
style than the ceremonial scenes. This observation is particularly true of the battle
470
scene on the Los Angeles sarcophagus, which partakes of the conventions
established on the Great Trajanic Frieze. Two mounted Romans occupy the upper
level, their rearing horses trampling a barbarian below. The contorted and anguished
pose of this fallen enemy fulfills the requirements for Hellenistic tragic history. The
iconography of the marriage scene, indicating the fulfillment of a civic duty, is
unrelated to the triumphal imagery of the Trajanic and Aurelian Columns. The
dextrarum iunctio is an ancient motif in Etruscan and Roman art, where it functions
as a sign of concordia. It is found on the Etruscan cinerary urn of a general, where
he shakes hands with the leader of his funeral cortege, and it appears as early as 250
B.C. on the sarcophagus of Hesti Afunei, where it functions as a symbol of concord
between a man and his wife.
The continuous narrative style is mandated on the sarcophagi, both by the
influence of the Columns and by the extremely limited space in which the four
scenes are deployed. The continuous arrangement is particularly appropriate
because the scenes are meant to represent highlights and memorable events that
together constitute a greater whole, the virtuous life of the deceased. The cramped
conditions of the relief preclude the use of elaborate scene dividers and back-to-
back figures are the major means of scene separation. The battle scene on the Los
Angeles sarcophagus has a small rocky divider situated at the groundline on the
right. The Uffizi sarcophagus is the only member of the group to make a limited use
of background to delimit separate scenes. The submission is backed by a single tree,
the sacrifice by a temple, and a curtain is draped behind the marriage scene,
471
indicating an indoor setting. The only form of background on the other sarcophagi is
the temple in the sacrificial scene.
The generals’ sarcophagi continue a Roman tradition of verbal and visual
biographies designed to record the deeds of distinguished men for posterity, so that
they may provide an example for future generations. They are related to encomiastic
historical biographies of the late Republican and Imperial periods, such as Caesar’s
accounts of his wars and the laudatory biography of his father-in-law, Agricola,
produced by Tacitus in the early 2
nd
century A.D. The funerary context allies the
biographies on the sarcophagi more particularly with the genre of the funeral oration
and epideitic oratory. The earliest example of a visual biography on a funeral
monument, the tomb on the Via Portuense, is highly individual in content and
iconography. The narratives on the Antonine sarcophagi are increasingly formulaic
and symbolic, a tendency already noted on the Column of Marcus Aurelius.
42
Nevertheless, style and motifs were closer to those displayed on the Column of
Trajan, a preference that may be attributed partly to the private nature of these
commemorations. The purpose of the Aurelian Column was to present Marcus
Aurelius as a semi-divine ruler, an image that would be inappropriate for even the
highest echelons of contemporary society. By electing to imitate the more
egalitarian presentation of Trajan, a claim could be laid to his projection as an ideal
leader, a characterization still within the grasp of a successful member of the elite
classes.
472
The second group of Roman sarcophagi that display the elements of a
Curriculum Vitae consists of certain sarcophagi designed specifically for children,
also from the Antonine and Severan periods The scenes common on these
sarcophagi include the first bath, education, chariot rides, apotheosis and funeral
rites.
43
When more than a single event in the life of a child is shown, these events
are arranged continuously on the front panel, not necessarily in chronological order,
and the direction of reading is not necessarily from left to right. As on adult
biographical funeral monuments, the earliest examples of the genre display the
greatest individuality and variation. The first known biography of a child is on a
sarcophagus in the National Museum,
Rome, from the first quarter of the 2
nd
century (Fig. 171). The sequence of events,
which reads from right to left, first shows
the parents and the infant in a horse drawn
cart. At the center a toddler is learning to walk, using a Roman walker. He is
separated by a single tree from an older child, who is playing with a large bird. At
the left the parents and child are in the same carriage as they occupied previously. A
Cupid flying above the horses suggests the
promise of apotheosis, and the torches at
the corners provide the funerary context. A
slightly later sarcophagus in the Louvre
(Fig.172), from ca 150 A.D., introduces the
Figure 171. Child’s Sarcophagus. Rome
National Museum After Huskinson
(1996) Pl. 1.3.
Figure 172. Child’s Sarcophagus.
Louvre, Paris. After Huskinson (1996)
Pl. 2.1.
473
ubiquitous theme of childhood education. At the left the mother holds the infant,
while the father, leaning on a short pillar, looks on. In the next scene the father is
holding the baby. At the center the child, now considerably older, drives a ram
drawn cart, and at the right, scroll in hand, he delivers a lesson to his seated father.
The father has portrait features and the scenes are arranged chronologically from
left to right.
The first intimation of a formulaic sequence, having little to do with individual
history, was introduced in the last third of the 2
nd
century. A sarcophagus in the
Palazzo Doria Pamphilia shows the first bath, a symbol for birth, at the left,
followed by a lesson and a scene of apotheosis at the right. This sarcophagus also
introduces allegorical personages to glorify the life of a child, Fates at the birth, the
Muses included in the scene of education and psychopomps conducting the
apotheosis. A sarcophagus now
in the Museo Torlonia (Fig.
173) adds the standard death
bed scene that was a
characteristic of 3
rd
century
sarcophagi. The mother watches a nurse bathing the child at the left. The education
scene follows, consisting of the child, his seated tutor and a Muse holding a comic
mask. In the prothesis, or death bed scene, the deceased reclines on a couch, flanked
by his veiled mother and father. Behind the couch are three mourners. On this
sarcophagus the deceased appears as an adult, bearded man, although he is a child in
Figure 173. Child’s Sarcophagus. Museum Torlonia,
Rome. After Huskison (1996) Pl. 3.1.
474
all the other scenes, including the subsequent apotheosis. This anomaly can be
explained by proposing that the man is a proleptic image of the adult the child might
have become if he had not been terminated by an untimely death.
44
Unlike the biographical sarcophagi of adults, choice and arrangement of scenes
on children’s sarcophagi are quite variable, although they are restricted to the
formulaic subjects of birth, education, death and apotheosis. On a sarcophagus in
the Louvre (Fig. 174) the sequence starts with education, the boy reading to his tutor
in the presence of other children
and his slave, who is carrying a
basket. In the death bed scene he
lies on the couch, attended by his
parents and by professional
mourners, gesticulating and tearing their hair. His possessions, including his shoes,
are arranged beneath the couch. The scene symbolizing birth is at the right, although
the bath is missing. The child is presented to his mother in the presence of the Fates.
The sarcophagi of girls were fewer in number and were limited to the death bed
scene alone.
45
By the 3
rd
century the biographical sequences of male children were
also replaced by a single scene, either educational in content or a death bed scene.
All children’s biographical sarcophagi containing more than a single scene are
in continuous narrative style, an even greater necessity than on adult sarcophagi,
considering their smaller size. The connected events were designed to give the
impression of a continuous progression from birth to death. Scene dividers are again
Figure 174. Child’s Sarcophagus. Louvre, Paris.
After Huskinson (1996) Pl. 3.2.
475
limited to back-to back figures on the later sarcophagi. On the less crowded early
sarcophagi, such as the sarcophagus shown in Figure 171, all figures face to the left
and the only scene divider is the tree at the center. The style of children’s
biographical sarcophagi is also very variable. The style of decoration on the
sarcophagus in Figure 171 is close to that of popular art, whereas the Torlonia
sarcophagus, although displaying some residual awkwardness, makes an attempt at
mimicking the graceful Hellenistic style. Stylistic differences may reflect the
culture, social standing and wealth of the family commissioning the sarcophagus,
but little information is available on the status of those who invested in sarcophagi
for their dead children. Diane Kleiner’s study of Roman funerary altars of the early
Imperial period, most of which were dedicated by freedmen, has led her to postulate
that this social group placed particular emphasis on the commemoration of
childhood death.
46
These children represented hope for the future and an
improvement in status. However, according to Janet Huskinson, it is far more
difficult to determine the social class of those who commissioned sarcophagi for
children.
47
Many of these sarcophagi do not have inscriptions, and those that do
seldom indicate the standing of the family. Attempts to correlate style or
iconography with class should, in Huskinson’s opinion, be treated with great
caution.
The commissioning of biographical sarcophagi for both children and adults was
undertaken with essentially the same purpose in mind, the intent to demonstrate the
wealth and high status of the family and the virtues of the deceased. On children’s
476
sarcophagi the biography is inevitably restricted to the private sphere, as the child
did not live to attain high office. What was emphasized was his potential for
achievement and the loss to the family prestige occasioned by his premature death.
The focus on death, which is lacking on adult sarcophagi, was intended to underline
this loss. The events related were idealized, designed to demonstrate the exceptional
abilities of the child and his possession of the virtues valued by Roman tradition. In
an attempt to maximize his limited achievements, he is frequently associated with
divine and heroic children. The use of the first bath as a symbol for birth may be
related to Dionysiac sarcophagi, where the bath functions as both a metaphor for
birth and a symbol of epiphany.
48
The attendance of the Muses or the Fates at the
bath indicates either the unusual abilities of the child or presages his early death.
The inclusion of childhood education served multiple purposes. The presence of the
Muses and other allegorical figures has overtones of the education of Achilles and
provides an intimation of unusual intelligence. A declamation to father or tutor was
an indication of the public career for which the child was destined if death had not
intervened and served to emphasize the social standing of the family. Scenes of
apotheosis are a substitute for this lost career. The child is carried off to the next
world in a chariot, attended by deities and psychopomps, in a scene appropriate for
gods and heroes, providing a final indication of his exceptional status and the great
loss his death represents to his family and to society.
The biographical sarcophagi of both adults and children represent an
appropriation of an Imperial tradition to serve as a commemoration in the private
477
sphere. The eulogistic and anhistorical account of a life reflects glory on the
surviving family and provides a lasting memorial to the deceased. The use of
continuous narrative unifies events, constituting them into either the epitome of the
military and civic career suitable for a member of the Roman elite or linking scenes
that encapsulate a brief life, cut off before the exceptional promise they reveal could
be achieved.
Mythological Sarcophagi
Mythological and legendary themes were the most popular form of decoration
on Roman sarcophagi before the Christian era. They represent an expropriation of
Greek culture for Roman funerary purposes, namely the memorialization of the
dead and the provision of exempla for their living descendants. Roman death rituals
ensured that sarcophagi were not on public display and, once purchased, they were
generally viewed only by the family of the deceased and any others who took part in
the entombment.
49
Sarcophagi were usually placed in the tomb prior to the funeral
procession, which entailed carrying the body on a bier from the house to the tomb,
where it was placed in the sarcophagus. Thereafter, the sarcophagus was seen by the
family, either when a further interment took place in the tomb or at the annual
festivals of the dead that were celebrated by a funeral meal partaken at the tomb.
A memorialization of the deceased that could also serve as an enduring
exemplum could be achieved by recounting the highlights of an illustrious career,
the most obvious method of attaining these objectives. However, the number of
biographical sarcophagi is small in comparison with those where the choice of
478
narrative has focused on scenes derived from the myths and legends of Greece. In
considering how this form of decoration may have fulfilled Roman requirements for
funerary art, it should be borne in mind that the number of the dead who had
actually engaged in the privileged careers outlined on the generals’ sarcophagi was
very limited. Although some citizens, such as the baker Eurysaces, gave details of
far more ordinary lives on their funerary dedications, Greek mythology provided a
dignified alternative. Alfred Nock has proposed that mythological scenes on
sarcophagi served as a cultured reference to antiquity that enhanced the
remembrance and status of the occupant.
50
A additional means of imparting
significance to the Greek mythological stories that decorate Roman sarcophagi is to
assume that a symbolic association was made between the life of a deceased family
member and the characters or story of the chosen myth. The popularity of heroic
themes, such as the life of Achilles and the Labors of Hercules, indicates that the
Romans favored mythic characters renowned for their virtus, and that the choice of
these warriors for a sarcophagus was intended to symbolize the virtues possessed by
the occupant.
51
Hercules, in particular, seems to have functioned as an allegory for
dangers endured, risks taken and duty meticulously performed. It was customary to
portray the Labors of Hercules by
arranging them in chronological order
from left to right on the front panel,
sometimes with an extension on the
side panels (Fig. 175) Each labor was
Figure 175. Hercules Sarcophagus. Uffizi
Gallery, Florence. After Sichtermann and Koch
(1975) Pl. 48.2.
479
represented by Hercules battling his current opponent, without division between
adjacent incidents. An indication that this string of magnificent deeds is intended to
be equated with the duties undertaken by the deceased in his lifetime is provided by
showing the first representation of Hercules as a beardless youth. An age
progression leads to the final figure of a bearded man past his prime, and the
continuous narrative style links the separate scenes into a unitary whole, the
representation of a life well spent.
Other myths that have been associated with specific virtues include the Indian
victory of Dionysus, considered to be symbolic of both success in battle and the
virtue of clementia. The events of Dionysus’ childhood were frequently employed
on children’s sarcophagi as an allegory for the birth and epiphany of a remarkable
child.
52
On a sarcophagus in the Capitoline Museum from about 160 A.D. (Fig.
176), the discovery and epiphany of the divine child is shown on the left, separated
from the first bath, attended by the
Muses, by a scene of Silenus
punishing a satyr.
53
Dionysiac
imagery, in general, is related to the
third purpose served by the Greek
myths that are included on Roman sarcophagi, the assurance of an afterlife that was
implicit in the mystery religions of the Empire.
54
The hope of survival after death
motivated the popularity of myths featuring protagonists who were able to return
from the underworld or survived after death in altered form, such as Proserpina,
Figure 176. Dionysus Sarcophagus. Capitoline
Museum, Rome. After Huskinson (1996) Pl.
8.2.
480
Alcestis and Endymion. Also favored were heroes who died young, particularly
Meleager, Achilles and Hippolytus, who were among the most common subjects on
the sarcophagi of both adults and children. The short lives and premature deaths of
these heroes explains why they were considered suitable for the sarcophagi of
children, but their employment for mature or elderly adults is more difficult to
understand. However, early and heroic death resonates with several important
themes in the Roman concept of death and memoria. The premature death of a
beloved and greatly mourned individual, such as Achilles or Meleager,
encompassed the inexorable nature of Fate that overtakes even the best and brightest
and the death that comes to all men, including the occupant of the sarcophagus.
Inclusion of the Fates at the deathbed scenes of the heroes emphasized this aspect of
the myth. The heroes most frequently portrayed, Achilles and Meleager, both
elected duty and the risk of a dangerous path, achieving death and glory rather than
dishonor or a life without renown. The deceased was endowed with these virtues by
association and by the decision to tell their stories on his sarcophagus.
The treatment of a mythological story, its adaptation for Roman use and the
contribution made by continuous narrative are illustrated by the various incidents of
the Meleager story and their combination on Roman sarcophagi. Guntram Koch
tabulated these incidents and their appearance on Roman sarcophagi, and the list
was reviewed and revised by Richard Brilliant.
55
Meleager was the son of Oeneus,
king of Caldydon, and Althaea, daughter of Thestius. Shortly after the birth of their
son, the Fates prophesied that he would die when the brand burning in the fireplace
481
was consumed. Althaea snatched the brand, extinguished it and hid it in a closet.
After Meleager was grown and had engaged in various heroic pursuits with the
Argonauts, Oeneus, in the usual forgetful fashion of Greek monarchs, omitted
Artemis from a sacrifice to the gods. In revenge, she and her brother, Apollo, sent
an enormous boar to ravage the Calydonian countryside. A hunt was proposed and
invitations sent to various heroes to participate. Those who responded included
Atalanta, and she and Meleager fell in love. After due deliberation, the hunting
party set out. Meleager was responsible for killing the boar, and a celebratory hunt
feast was organized. As victor, the choice meat belonged to Meleager by traditional
right, and he assigned it to Atalanta. However, his uncles, the Thestides, usurped
this right. Meleager attacked and slew them, a necessity under the heroic honor code
of ancient Greece. Also in accordance with this code, Althaea was bound to revenge
her blood kin. She removed the hidden brand and cast it into the fire. Meleager was
killed by Apollo and his body carried back to Calydon, where it was greeted with
great sorrow. His mother, Althaea, committed suicide in grief and anguish over her
unbearable choice.
As might be expected from the resonance of the hunt with Roman virtus, the
actual killing of the boar is the most popular scene on Roman sarcophagi. The
events surrounding it, the preparations for the hunt, the feast, the killing of the
Thestides, Althaea burning the brand, Meleager’s death and Althaea’s suicide are
frequently included, either as a continuous narrative on the front panel or as
addenda on the side panels. On children’s sarcophagi the same narrative choices are
482
made as for adults, although pathos is sometimes intensified by replacing the
participants with children or youths. When the hunt is chosen as the main event on
the front panel, it tends to be the sole focus of attention. In some cases a subsidiary
scene is inserted at the left, showing a group conference before the hunt. This group,
consisting of Oeneus, Meleager and Atalanta, can be seen on a sarcophagus in the
Capitoline Museum (Fig. 177), dated to ca. A.D. 160.
Selections of scenes that do not
include the hunt are almost
invariably combined as two or more
incidents in the continuous narrative
format. The monoscenic character of
the hunt scene can be explained by its dramatic nature and its ready recognition by
the viewer, a recognition which, it has been suggested, was in part the result of
using a famous Hellenistic painting or relief sculpture as a model.
56
The boar hunt
has a long history in Roman art prior to its appearance on 2
nd
century sarcophagi.
The 1
st
century B.C. Monument of the Julii in St. Remy features both the boar hunt
and the death of Meleager in a continuous narrative, and Peter von Blanckenhagen
has suggested that this narrative is derived from the conflation of two Hellenistic
paintings.
57
The standardized iconography and composition of the hunt scene on
Roman sarcophagi indicates derivation from a common source, and, if the original
was indeed a Hellenistic painting, it is unlikely to have been a continuous narrative.
The standardized composition and characters can be seen in a monoscenic
Figure 177. Meleager Sarcophagus. Capitoline
Museum, Rome. After Sichtermann and Koch
(1975) Pl. 103.2.
483
representation of the hunt on a sarcophagus from A.D. 180, now in the Galleria
Doria (Fig. 178). Oeneus stands at the left, slightly to the rear of a semi-nude
huntsman with a dog, who carries
an axe over his shoulder. Atalanta,
in a short tunic and boots, stands
frontally to the right of the
huntsman. Meleager, in an active,
diagonal and typically Hellenistic
pose, occupies the center of the
composition. He rests his weight on his left leg and thrusts at the boar with a long
spear. He exhibits heroic semi-nudity, his only garment being a short cloak, looped
over his left arm and pinned on the right shoulder. Behind him are the two Dioscuri,
one of whom grasps his right arm, presumably urging him on or attempting to
restrain him from a fateful action. In the background, behind Meleager’s spear, is a
second female figure, seen in profile. She has the same dress and hairstyle as
Atalanta and has the same type of bow case on her back. However, she holds a
drawn bow. To the right of the boar, seen almost from the rear, is a man holding a
bundle of spears and wearing a cloak similar to that of Meleager. Beneath his feet is
a wounded man, and the scene concludes with a further naked hunter, leaning on a
long spear. The second woman is probably intended for Artemis, although her
similarity to Atalanta is confusing. Artemis would have an interest in the hunt,
Figure 178. Meleager Sarcophagus. Galleria Doria,
Rome. After Sichtermann and Koch (1975) Pl. 95.
484
having supplied the boar as a method of revenge, and a second appearance of only
Atalanta seems unlikely.
The representation of the hunt on a slightly later (A.D. 190) sarcophagus in the
Campo Santo, Pisa (Fig. 179) has an identical sequence of characters, with closely
similar poses and dress. The
distinction between Atalanta and
Artemis is better defined on this
sarcophagus, by a difference in
hairstyle and headgear. It may be
concluded that these two monoscenic
versions of the hunt closely resemble the original Hellenistic model. The
sarcophagus in Figure 177 has a more tenuous adherence to the model, which can,
however, still be recognized as contributing to the arrangement of figures. Not only
is a second appearance of Atalanta and Meleager inserted at the left, but the
frontally facing Atalanta to the right of this group is followed by two additional
hunters placed between her and the Dioscuri. The pose of Meleager is slightly
modified, as he turns more towards the front, and the hunter seen from the rear is
cut off decisively from the main scene by a rocky divider of the type common on
the Column of Trajan. He is accompanied by two robed figures whose nature is
difficult to discern. This sarcophagus is different from the later examples in several
respects. The style lacks the Hellenistic exuberance of the other representations, the
figures being paratactic and static. With its two additional scenes, it appears to be
Figure 179. Meleager Sarcophagus. Campo Santo,
Pisa. After Sichtermann and Koch (1975) Pl.
103.2.
485
based only loosely on the model followed by the other hunt sarcophagi and
represents the construction of a continuous narrative by Roman additions to a
Hellenistic monoscenic core.
A sarcophagus from A.D. 190 (Fig. 180), also in the Capitoline Museum, has
reinstituted the additional scene
at the left. The only resemblance
between this scene on the later
and earlier Capitoline sarcophagi
resides in the figure of Meleager,
who stands in the same pose,
holding his spear diagonally. On the earlier sarcophagus he faces Atalanta, who is
standing to the left in profile, and the robed Oeneus is to her left. A huntsman is to
Atalanta’s right. In the later example Oeneus has been eliminated and Atalanta is
the center of the group, facing forward with Meleager on her left. The hunter at the
far left has been replaced with a huntress in a spiked cap, presumably a member of
Atalanta’s train. The group is terminated by Meleager, facing left, and he is
followed on the right by a second representation of Attlanta, facing forwards as on
the monosceneic versions of the hunt. However, the figure of the hunter with an axe
on his shoulder is inserted between Atalanta and the Dioscuri. The remainder of the
scene, the killing of the boar, is identical to that on the monoscenic versions.
This brief account gives some indication of how the Romans displayed
repetitive figural types, groups and poses in the construction of a particular mythic
Figure 180. Meleager Sarcophagus. Capitoline
Museum, Rome. After Brilliant (1984) Fig. 4.17.
486
event on the front panels of 2
nd
century sarcophagi. The same standardized groups
and sequences can be seen on the biographical general’s sarcophagi, where it has
been demonstrated that the source for this private art form was a borrowing from
Imperial iconography. In the case of the Meleager hunt sarcophagi, the source is
postulated to be one or more Hellenistic paintings or relief sculptures, judging from
the overall Hellenistic nature of the poses and style. The core element is the group
of Meleager and the boar, which is repeated unchanged, except for details of
features and hairstyle, on all sarcophagi of the group. The major difference in the
monscenic versions is the addition or deletion of the huntsman between Atalanta
and the Dioscuri. The addition of a scene referring back to an earlier time was
almost certainly Roman in inspiration, added as an explanatory addendum of
previous history. No Hellenistic precedent is likely to have existed for its content
and composition, so the individual sculptors drew on the extensive repertoire of
Hellenistic types associated with the hunt.
A considerably later monoscenic version
of the hunt, from the end of the 3
rd
century,
is to be found on a sarcophagus in the
Palace of the Conservators (Fig. 181). It
shows the same tendency to simplify and
focus on a single incident that was evident
in the later biographical sarcophagi. The
number of figures is reduced and only the core group of Meleager, Artemis and the
Figure 181. Meleager Sarcophagus.
Palace of the Conservators, Rome. After
Sichtermann and Koch (1975) Pl. 108.
487
boar is retained from the 2
nd
century versions. The other figures consist of two very
similar hunters on foot, striking identical poses at the far left, and a third hunter at
the far right, who is their mirror image. Two youthful equestrians on rearing horses
are added at the right and left of the central group. The influence of the original
Hellenistic model has been considerably diluted and exchanged for an interpretation
more characteristic of Roman art of the period.
Richard Brilliant has divided the sarcophagi portraying other aspects of the
Meleager story into two major groups, those focusing on the death of Meleager and
those showing the return of his body to Calydon.
58
Both these themes concentrate
on the pathos and grief occasioned by an unexpected and premature death, together
with the role of Fate and the inevitability of death. The six sarcophagi featuring the
death of Meleager are all continuous narratives. The central event on these
sarcophagi takes the form of a deathbed scene similar to those found on child
sarcophagi, and it seems unlikely that it was modeled on a Hellenistic original. The
scenes with which it is combined are those that can be considered causative factors
in Meleager’s death, the fight with his uncles and the burning of the brand by
Althaea. The function of continuous narration is to link these incidents into a
sequence demonstrating the inevitable consequences of fateful events. The complete
sequence can be seen on a sarcophagus in the Villa Barberini, in Castel Gandolfo
(Fig. 182), dated about A.D. 230. At the left, a naked Meleager confronts one of his
uncles in an outdoor setting, designated by a pile of rocks. A robed Fate stands
between them. To the right, Althaea casts the brand into a brazier, her face averted
488
in aversion. She is
accompanied by three Fates,
in order to emphasize the
predestined nature of her
action. At the center, the dead
body of Meleager reclines on
his death couch, his helmet and sword on the dais below, while his family mourns.
At the far right Meleager is accompanied by Atalanta in an outdoor setting,
indicated by a tree. This scene is intended to represent either their falling in love or
the moment of their triumph, a reminder that death strikes even the most
transcendent life. The insertion of a scene from an earlier and happier past after the
death bed scene serves to increase the pathos associated with this untimely death. It
illustrates a Roman proclivity for adding small vignettes from past or future to a
central scene in the construction of mythological continuous narratives, a proclivity
that is seen in the story of Dirce from the House of Julius Polybius and in the
painting of Polyphemus and Galatea from Boscotrecase.
The theme of the return of Meleager’s body may well have had a Hellenistic
prototype, as a repetitive core of poses and groups can readily be discerned on all
2
nd
and 3
rd
century sarcophagi with this theme. The model can be reconstructed by
comparison of two monoscenic versions of the return of Meleager’s body, an A.D.
160 child sarcophagus in the National Museum at Basel (Fig. 183) and an early 3
rd
century adult sarcophagus in the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston (Fig. 184). On
Figure 182. Meleager Sarcopagus. Villa Barberini, Castel
Gandolfo. After Brilliant (1984) Fig. 4.15.
489
the left is the chariot that has
conveyed the body home. At
center, four men carry the body
by arms, shoulders and legs, the
body slumping, face up between
its bearers. It is received by the
distraught parents and their
household. The disposition and
gestures of all figures in the two
renditions are identical, despite
the substitution of children for the protagonists on the Basel sarcophagus, arguing
for derivation from a common model. Brilliant has designated the Houston
sarcophagus as containing two scenes, considering that the grief stricken figure of
Althaea at the right represents her suicide.
59
He assigns the slaying of Meleager by
Apollo and the suicide of Althaea as companion scenes for the return of the body
and considers all sarcophagi in this group to have at least two scenes. The full
sequence of all three scenes is present on a sarcophagus in the National Museum of
Istanbul (Fig. 185), from A.D.
150. At the left Apollo slays a
semi-naked Meleager, who has a
helmet and shield. At the right,
the core group of the
Figure 183. Meleager Sarcophagus. Antikenmuseum,
Basle. After Koch And Sichtermann (1982) Fig. 187.
Figure 184. Meleager Sarcophagus. Museum of Fine
Arts, Houston. After Brilliant (1984) Fig. 4.16.
Figure 185. Meleager Sarcophagus. Istanbul National
Museum. After Koch and Sichtermann (1982) Fig. 186.
490
monoscenic sarcophagi is exactly replicated, including the despairing Althaea and
the maid who attempts to comfort her. At the far right a second Althaea kneels,
plunging a dagger into her breast. Remnants of the slaying of Meleager by Apollo
can be found on a sarcophagus in Perugia, and seem to indicate that this, too, may
have been a standardized scene. Thus the sarcophagus in Istanbul may represent an
additional method of constructing a continuous narrative, a method already
suggested for the panel painting of Daedalus and Icarus, the conflation of two or
more original monosenic models of either Hellenistic or Roman provenance.
Families who chose the hunt scene as a subject for memorializing the dead
celebrated heroic virtus and relied on the viewer to recall the ancilliary themes of
death, Fate and grief. Alternatively they could address these themes directly and
anticipate that the viewer would call to mind the noble character of the analog they
had elected for the deceased. The limited space available forced epitomization,
although the placement of additional scenes on the side panels and lid served to
extend the range on certain sarcophagi. The lid of the sarcophagus in Figure 180, for
example, has a continuous narrative, including the return to Calydon and the suicide
of Althaea, both of which follow the iconography of these scenes on front panels,
with the addition of the Dioscuri on horseback, functioning as a scene divider
between the two events.
The majority of myths on Roman sarcophagi can be assigned to the categories
of hero stories, where the virtus of the protagonist may be ascribed to the occupant,
pathetic tales featuring early death, or myths that intimate the possibility of an
491
afterlife. Other stories, such as excerpts from the Trojan War, the Odyssey, or plays
of the 5
th
century Greek dramatists, appear to serve as reminders of the culture and
education of the deceased. A fifth category consists of myths with a moralizing
bent. Most themes in this rather ill defined category are represented by only one or
two examples of a particular myth, in which either virtue is rewarded by the gods or
neglect and defiance of their edicts is punished. In the first category we find the
story of Cleobis and Biton and also the tale of the faithful wife, Alcestis.
Representatives of the second group include Marsyas, Daedalus and Actaeon.
Richard Brilliant has theorized that choice of these stories was a reflection of the
Roman tendency to moralize myth and was encouraged by the popularity of Stoic
philosophy.
60
Choosing such a myth for a Roman sarcophagus would indicate a
respect for the gods and for traditional virtue on the part of the deceased.
The moral story of Alcestis on a Roman sarcophagus has been extensively
investigated by Susan Wood.
61
The myth is interesting because it has multiple
layers of allegorical meaning, all of which are attested on the sarcophagus. The
myth defines marital love and family loyalty, together with the virtues of courage,
devotion to duty and their reward. It also intimates the possibility of life after death.
It is featured in both Aeschylus and Euripides, the Euripidean version being
followed, to a large degree, on Roman sarcophagi. Admetus was a king of Pherae in
Thessaly, who married Alcestis, daughter of Pelias. Yet again, this Greek ruler
neglected to include Artemis in the marriage sacrifice, and was condemned by the
vengeful goddess. Apollo, who owed Admetus a favor, commuted the sentence.
492
Admetus need not die if he could find someone willing to perish in his stead. In
Euripides’ play, Admetus and Alcestis enjoyed several years of married life,
producing two children, before Fate intervened. However, the fateful day of death
arrived and Admetus attempted to find a substitute, pleading first with his parents,
who refused. Alcestis then nobly volunteered and was struck down by Artemis.
Herakles, because of hospitality offered him by Admetus, who was noted for his
piety, journeyed to the underworld to retrieve Alcestis, and the couple was reunited.
The sarcophagus studied by Wood is that of C. Junius Euhodus, a carpenter and
member of their guild, and his wife, Metilia Acte, described in the inscription as a
most saintly woman and a priestess of the cult of the Magna Mater at Ostia. The
sarcophagus (Fig. 186), now in the Museum Chiaramonte of the Vatican, is dated to
A.D. 160-170. The
inscription indicates that
the occupants were of the
craftsmen class and, from
their Greek names and
assignment to the Palatine
tribe, were of servile descent. Freedmen and their descendants were particularly
prominent among the devotees of the foreign mystery cults.
62
These cults, probably
including that of the Great Mother in which Metilia was a priestess, believed in an
afterlife. Wood has deduced that the choice of the Alcestis myth was, at least in
part, due to its emphasis on the return of Alcestis from the dead.
63
The relief on the
Figure 186. Alcestis Sarcophagus. Vatican, Museum
Chiaramonti. After Sichtermann and Koch (1975) Pl. 17.2.
493
front panel is a continuous narrative, both Admetus and Alcestis appearing at least
twice in undivided scenes. The first figure, at the left of the panel, is that of a man
standing before an arched doorway, carrying a spear over his shoulder and holding a
dog on a leash. This figure was considered by Carl Robert to be Thanatos, with
whom, according to Euripides, Herakles wrestled for possession of Alcestis in the
underworld.
64
More recent scholarship has identified this figure as Admetus, his
guise as a hunter emphasizing his masculine virtus.
65
He is accompanied by a
servant and Apollo is to the right, identified by his bow. The central scene is the
deathbed of Alcestis. Her husband, who has been given portrait features, strides
towards the couch from the left. Alcestis, also with portrait features, reclines on the
couch, supported on her left elbow and holding out her right hand to clasp that of
her husband. One of Alcestis’ children kneels beside the couch clutching his
mother’s draperies. A second child is on the dais, resting his chin in his hands and
supporting them on his upraised knees. To the right of the couch Hercules reunites
the couple. Admetus/Euhodus is on the left, grasping the right hand of Hercules in
the gesture of the dextrarum iunctio. Hecules is identified by his club. To his right is
the heavily veiled figure of Alcestis. The rescue of Alcestis from death is made
explicit by the inclusion of figures from the underworld. A cave-like opening below
the clasped hands of Admetus and Hercules shelters the monster, Cerberus, and, at
the right of the reunited husband and wife, a veiled Persephone, holding a torch,
stands at the shoulder of her enthroned husband, Pluto.
494
The two additional 2
nd
century sarcophagi that portray the myth of Alcestis in
continuous narrative style have retained the deathbed scene but substituted other
groups for the remainder of the narrative. On a sarcophagus in the Museum
Gregoriano Profano of the Vatican (Fig. 187) that is of approximately the same date
as the Euhodis
sarcophagus, the attitude of
Alcestis on the couch is the
same as on the sarcophagus
from Ostia, and her two
children are included in the
same poses, raising the distinct possibility that this group is an adaptation from a
Hellenistic or Roman original.. However, Alcestis’ outstretched hand is taken by an
old man, presumed to be either her father or the father of Admetus, and an old
woman is stationed behind the couch. On the left Admetis tries to persuade his
father to take his place, and representation of Apollo is eliminated. At the right of
the couch no deities or underworld figures are shown, and Hercules is not present.
Only the reunited couple are in evidence, walking towards the right. In this second
appearance, Admetus assumes the same pose as the striding figure to the left of the
couch on the sarcophagus of Euhodus and Metilia. A third sarcophagus, now in the
Villa Faustina in Cannes, has an identical composition to that of the sarcophagus in
the Villa Albani, except that Hercules has been reintroduced to the right of the
spouses, in the same pose as he holds on the sarcophagus of Euhodus. These
Figure 187. Alcestis Sarcophagus. Vatican, Museum
Gregorio Profano. After Sichtermann and Koch (1975) Pl.
17.1.
495
sarcophagi indicate yet again the Roman proclivity for adopting core groups and
adapting them to form continuous narratives by inserting ancilliary figures, drawn
either from the corpus of Hellenistic art or else of a strictly Roman origin. Wood has
suggested that the reunion of Alcestis and Admetus on the sarcophagus bears a
close resemblance to the marriage scenes symbolizing concordia that appear on
biographical sarcophagi.
66
The resemblance is particularly noticeable in the heavy
veiling of Alcestis and the gesture of the dextrarum iunctio, even though it occurs
between Admetis and Hercules rather than between husband and wife.
The Alcestis myth is usually interpreted as an illustration of wifely duty and
marital accord. The inclusion of children indicated that the couple had fulfilled the
civic obligations of marriage. The myth was more commonly employed on the
sarcophagi of women, and its use for a married couple may explain the attribution
of virtus, by inclusion of Admetus as a hunter, and suppression of the somewhat
shameful scene in which Admetus urges his father to replace him in death.
67
The
myth has an additional funerary symbolism beyond the reward of virtue by the gods,
as it belongs to the category of myths that refer to the possibility of life beyond the
tomb. Wood has postulated that this aspect received additional emphasis on the
sarcophagus of Euhodis and Metilia through the inclusion of denizens of the
underworld on the front panel.
68
These reminders of death, Cerberus, Pluto and
Persephone, are not mentioned in Euripides’ play and are either absent or relegated
to the side panels on other sarcophagi that retell the Alcestis myth. The reason for
this insistence on the afterlife was the adherence of Metilia and her husband to the
496
cult of the Magna Mater, which is underlined by inclusion of cultic objects, carved
on the lid.
In the five extant examples of the Alcestis story carved on Roman sarcophagi,
Peter Blome has noted the same tendency towards epitomization and symbolism on
the later sarcophagi that was evident in the Meleager series.
69
The last sarcophagus
in the group, now in Genoa, dispenses with continuous narration and concentrates
on the reunion of Admetus and Alcestis, which has been transformed into the
typical concordia scene of the Roman marriage ceremony, echoing the progression
towards epitomization found on the generals’ biographical sarcophagi.
As for the Meleager sarcophagi, Roman patrons who chose to illustrate the story
of Alcestis on their sarcophagi were free to make a choice, not only of a particular
myth but also from a range of iconography, the majority of which was based on
Hellenistic Greek art. The most popular source for the adaptations of Greek myth
appearing on Roman sarcophagi was the tragedies of Euripides, and the earlier
sarcophagi adhered quite closely to the story line given in his plays. It is unlikely
that the designers had actually attended a production of any Euripides play.
However, the popularity of Euripides in the Hellenistic era may have ensured that
his versions of the myths entered the popular culture, to be inherited by the Romans
and incorporated into entertainments such as pantomime. The repetitive
iconography is almost certainly Hellenistic in origin, adapted from well known
monuments and preserved in cartoons and pattern books by individual workshops or
the sculptors’ guild.
70
The sculptors may have borrowed from more than a single
497
source, combining figures and groups to produce a product that was suited to
Roman purposes. The introduction of continuous narrative was one such Roman
adaptation, clearly seen in the Calydonian hunt series, where the Hellenistic core is
readily distinguishable from the Roman additions. These additions were intended to
provide greater clarity and set the narrative in context by referring back to earlier
events.
The use of mythological stories on Roman sarcophagi has a distinct relationship
to their employment in Greek epic narratives. In Homer, a number of mythic tales
are inserted into the greater narrative, usually in order to illustrate a particular point
of view or as a means of persuasion towards adopting a specific course of action. In
the Iliad, for example (9.529-599), Phoenix tells a version of the Meleager myth to
Achilles, in an attempt to persuade him to lay aside his anger against Agamemnon
and rejoin the Greek forces. In rhetoric, the mythic tale fulfilled the same purpose of
proof or persuasion, in the form of the locus commumis, as it did on the sarcophagi,
where myths were intended to persuade of the virtues and worthiness of the
deceased by analogy with the characters in a story.
Conclusion
From ca. 300 B.C. to Late Antiquity the Romans produced visual histories that
parallel the verbal productions of historiography and encomiastic biography. The
historical content of these accounts varied, but they were essentially rhetorical in
nature, designed to convince the contemporary viewer that the honoree deserved
praise for meritorious behavior that was in accordance with Roman tradition. Earlier
498
accounts tended to be more individualized, relying to a greater extent on specific
incidents to provide a convincing appearance of historical validity and the
possession of Republican virtue. By the 2
nd
century A.D. visual biographies were
evolving a repertoire of standardized ceremonies designed to provide a readily
recognizable shorthand for the virtues enshrined in the mos maiorum. The ideals of
Romanitas and the ideal Roman leader had become attenuated and largely symbolic
by the beginning of the 3
rd
century, to be replaced by the concept of the emperor as
absolute ruler, sanctioned by the gods and elevated above ordinary mortals.
However, the encomiastic intent of Roman historical commemorations remained
constant into Late Antiquity, featuring a concentration on proving that the behavior
of an individual was deserving of approval, praise and emulation.
Roman visual histories provide firm evidence that the practice of tying scenes
together by presenting them in a continuous format dates from at least the 1
st
century B.C. It is possible that continuous narrative appeared even earlier in
triumphal paintings. Continuous narration may be utilized in any visual story in
order to indicate to the viewer that sequential events are connected to form a unitary
narrative. It is, however, a particularly effective device in laudatory histories or
biographies, because the separate events, taken together, have the cumulative effect
of showing the honoree to be replete with the virtues and successes attributed to
Roman leaders and members of the elite. Children’s sarcophagi indicate that this
preoccupation with status was shared by members of the non-elite, who employed
the continuous narrative style to link events in the short life of a child.
499
Roman mythological sarcophagi furnish an excellent example of the cooption of
Greek culture and Greek art for Roman use, the adaptation of Greek myth providing
a memorial to deceased forebears that will reflect honor on the family in the years to
come. Continuous narrative contributed not only by enabling more than a single
incident to be shown on a very limited surface area but also by providing a linkage
between isolated episodes from the same or related stories and between an action
and its consequences.
500
Notes: Chapter 6.
1. Hamberg (1945) 160.
2. Petersen et al.(1896). The Column of Marcus Aurelius has garnered considerably
less scholarly attention than the Trajanic Column. The photographic plates were
republished in 1955 by Caprino et al, generating some additional interest. See
most recently the anthology edited by J. Scheid and V. Huet (2000), for an
extensive bibliography on the subject.
3. Brilliant (1984) 114-5. Although the Aurelian Column has fewer scenes, Marcus
Aurelius appears sixty two times to Trajan’s fifty nine appearances.
4. The narrative contains only a single scene detailing building activitiesof the army.
In scene lxxxii soldiers are shown constructing a camp.
5. Other scholars have proposed additional vertical correspondences for additional
types of scene. For example, Galinier (2000) 141-60 has drawn attention to
scenes of navigation and crossing of the Danube on bridges of boats that are
arranged vertically on the N.E. face of the Column.
6. Hamberg (1945) 154.
7. Hamberg (1945) 104; Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 322. According to Bianchi-
Bandinelli, the desire to align the two “miracles” and place them in the lower
region of the Column resulted in a lack of correct chronology and contributed to
the episodic nature of the narrative. He attributed the inclusion of the supernatural
to the prevalence of eastern mystery religions in the time of Commodus.
8. Even in non-ceremonial scenes the emperor is frequently shown with
inappropriate frontality. In scene xcviii he is leading the army across a bridge of
boats and poses frontally, spear in hand.
9. See Zanker (2000) 165-174, for an account of the treatment of women and
children on the Column, and Pirson (1996) 139-179, for scenes of brutality shown
to captives.
10. Brilliant (1984) 115. Richard Brilliant has compared the scenes on the Aurelian
Column to the isolated panels of a codex, replacing the flow of the book roll
found on Trajan’s Column.
11. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1970) 323
501
12. Ryberg (1955) 127-8.
13. The monument was initially published by J.M. Suaresius in the 17
th
century. The
definitive modern publication on the monument is that of Richard Brilliant
(1967). For a more recent bibliography see D. Baharai (1996).
14. The lines referring to Geta were removed, following his damnatio memoriae.
The situation of the Arch, diagonally opposite the Parthian Arch of Augustus,
was an unsubtle reference to the victories of a famous predecessor.
15. The preference of 17
th
century patrons for the Greek Classical style has caused
both artists to provide more classical outlines for the figures, and Dal Pazzo, in
particular, decreases the number of figures or alters their placement.
16. Strong (1976) 219. The subsequent siege of Hatra in A.D. 199 was unsuccessful,
and it was probably not included in the account on the Arch.
17. Suaresius (1676) 7ff. An architectural description of the Arch was published at
about the same time by A. Desgodetz.
18. Brilliant (1967) 174-5.
19. Ibid. 178-9.
20. Suaresius made the mistake of reading the panels from top to bottom.
Consequently, the adlocutiones and submissiones precede the battles and sieges
in his attempts to align the actions on the panels with ancient historical accounts.
By analogy with the two columns, the adlocutio succeeded a battle or major
incident.
21. Brilliant (1967) 177.
22. Sceratto (1955) 199-204.
23. Brilliant (1967) 189. One of the Romans is to the fore of the upper group and is
shown frontally, the usual method for portraying the emperor on both the Arch
and the Aurelian Column. The groups could indicate the formal reception of an
embassy, a common occurrence on the Column of Trajan, although Trajan was
always in military dress on these occasions. However, the attention of the
barbarians is directed towards the siege engine, and it seems more probable that
they are allies of the Romans.
24. The detail of the rocky divider separating the upper register into two distinct
sections is omitted by Bartoli, although it is clearly visible in the original.
502
25. Brilliant (1967) 193.
26. The siege engine is represented very poorly by Bartoli, who gives it the
appearance of a small shed. Dal Pozzo’s rendering is closer to actuality.
27. Hannestad (1988) 262-7.
28. The submissio became the standard method of representing clementia in
Imperial iconography.
29. Brilliant (1967) 236.
30. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1971) 68; Strong (1976) 220. Ranuccio Bianchi-Bandinelli
attributes this abandonment to the sacred character imparted to the emperor, in
accordance with ideas imported from the east that were best expressed by the
plebeian tradition.
31. Brilliant (1967) 246-7.
32. Bianchi-Bandinelli (1971) 223. Mosaics from the early 3
rd
century indicate that
the concept of dividing a single topographic space with partial registers was
already established in the decorative arts. Floor mosaics showing different
activities occurring in various areas of large villa estates have been found in
North Africa and Sicily. A hunting mosaic from Carthage has essentially the
same construction as Panel I on the Arch. The mosaic is divided into three
registers, but the fence which forms part of the lower groundline does not
extend all the way to the right hand border. It swings to the left to form a
section of the upper groundline, also incomplete at the left hand side. A
pathway, down which a dog is running, connects the top and middle
registers.
33. Hannestad (1988) 267. Hannestad draws attention to the inscription on the Arch,
where the praise bestowed on the emperor and his sons is based only on military
proficiency.
34. See Toynbee (1971) and Morris (1992) for a discussion of Roman burial
practices and funerary rituals.
35. For bibliography on Roman biographical sarcophagi see Huskinson (1996);
Whitehead (1984), (1993); Koch and Sichtermann (1982) 97-106; and Kampen
(1981).
36. Berezelly (1978) 49-74; Kampen (1981) 47-9.
503
37. Rodenwaldt (1935) 1-27.
38. The Los Angeles and Louvre sarcophagi show an abbreviated battle on
horseback. On the Uffizi sarcophagus the battle is replaced by a lion hunt and on
the Mantua sarcophagus there is no battle, the space being occupied by a winged
Victory.
39. Rodenwaldt (1935) 8; 16; Brilliant (1963) 157.
40. Ryberg (1955) 164. The victims for the marriage sacrifice were a sheep and a
pig.
41. The temple is obviously not intended to represent the Temple of Jupiter Optimus
Maximus on the Capitol. It is lacking the distinctive triple doors, and triumphal
sacrifices, which took place at this temple, were limited to the Imperial family.
After the construction of the Temple of Mars Ultor by Augustus, returning
generals dedicated symbols of their victories in this temple, according to Cassius
Dio (55.10.2-4). Possibly the temple is more symbolic than actual, relying on
the association of Jupiter with triumph to indicate a successful campaign.
42. Kampen (1981) 57.
43. Amedick (1993) 143.
44. Pollini (1993) 275-6; Huskinson (1996) 93. Huskinson considers that the adult
on the couch embodies the lost future that is being mourned and is in keeping
with the theme on the sarcophagi of children, that death has deprived the family
of a member who would have brought honor to the family name. John Pollini
has compared the visual prolepsis on this sarcophagus with literary meditations
on the unfullfilled potential of an early death, such as Quintillian’s reflections
on the death of his son (Inst. 6. pr. 10-3) and Virgil’s lament for the death of
Marcellus (Aen. 6.882-3)
45. Huskinson (1996) 95-6.
46. Kleiner (1987) 82-5.
47. Huskinson (1996) 82-5.
48. Kampen (1981) 50.
49. Toynbee (1971) 50-5.
504
50. Nock 1946) 140-66.
51. Koortbojian (1995) 7.
52. Huskinson (1996) 30-2. The education of Achilles serves the same purpose of
associating the child with the childhood of a hero or deity as an indication of
precocity or virtue.
53. Turcan (1966) 169-70. Dionysiac iconography is very complex, displaying a
number of intersecting themes that are suitable for a variety of funerary
contexts.They have been studied in detail by Turcan, in his work on Dionysiac
sarcophagi.
54. Schefold (1976) 767.
55. Sichtermann and Koch (1975) 79; Brilliant (1984) 145-7.
56. Kleiner (1972) 7-19.
57. Blanckenhagen (1957) 81.
58. Brilliant (1984) 153-8.
59. Ibid. 156.
60. Ibid. 130.
61. Wood (1993) 84-103.
62. Duff (1958) 131-2.
63. Wood (1993) 84-5. The portrait faces bestowed on Alcestis and Admetis
indicate that the myth was intended to relate directly to the married couple.
64. Robert (1897) 31-33.
65. Blome (1978) 435-45. The features of this figure are not readily identified as
identical to those of the other two representations of Admetis on the
sarcophagus. However, the cloaks and the physiques are the same, and, as Wood
points out, it was probably more difficult for the sculptor to render this face as a
recognizable portrait of Euhodis, because it is seen in three quarter view, as
opposed to the profiles of the other versions.
66. Wood (1993) 89.
505
67. Euripides’ version of the story was the first to bring out the far from admirable
behavior of Admetis in soliciting his parents to die in his place.
68. Wood (1993) 91.
69. Blome (1978) 452.
70. Ling (1991)217-9; Clark (1998) 19-55; Clark (2000) 227-8.
506
Chapter 7: Conclusion
A survey of ancient narrative art in the areas surrounding the Mediterranean
reveals that continuous narrative and other forms of conflated story telling appeared
first in the art of early Dynastic Egypt and persisted until the Roman Late Antique.
Continuous narrative enjoyed varying degrees of popularity in different times and
different places and was employed for a wide variety of story telling. In ancient
Egypt it is found in funerary commemorations and official public accounts of
military victories. In the ancient Near East its use was restricted to encomiastic
histories of the exploits engaged in by kings and rulers, whereas in Greece
continuous narrative was employed solely for mythological and legendary stories.
The Phoenicians and the Romans seem to have been the only nations that used the
continuous narrative style for visual narratives concerning both myth and recent
historical events.
The popularity of the continuous narrative style in Roman art was rivaled
only by its employment in the encomiastic narratives of the Assyrian kings.
Although Greek art was the origin and starting point for most developments in
Roman art, advances in the genre of continuous narration are unprecedented in the
art of Greece. It was a consideration of these advances and their extensions in
Medieval art that prompted Frantz Wickhoff to regard Roman art as a progression
rather than the degeneration of a noble tradition.
1
Major Roman innovations consist,
firstly, of the invention of a entirely new type of continuous narrative, the single
panel type, for which no direct antecedents have been discovered in earlier narrative
507
art. Secondly, by the Imperial period, the Romans had supplied a far more detailed
background for continuous narratives than was found on the Telephos Frieze, the
only confirmed Greek example of the style that included more than an occasional
tree, rock or pillar as a backdrop for human action.
The introduction of an extensive landscape background in the single panel
narrative was accompanied by a further development in Roman narrative art, the
employment of deliberate inconsistencies in both viewpoint and scale, resulting in
an exacerbation of the visual confusion in spatial relationships engendered by the
narrative format itself. In the Imperial period anomalies in relative size and
perspective were transferred from the mythological landscape paintings to examples
of public historical narrative in the frieze format and became a prominent feature of
Roman narrative style. These inconsistencies in size and perspective are known in
the art of many civilizations and in many epochs. However, in Roman art they were
applied at a time when realistic perspective was known and in common use, so that
their employment in specific paintings and relief sculptures was obviously intended
to serve a purpose related to either reception of the message or its impact on the
viewer. It has been noted that the continuous narrative style, a mode of narration
seldom encountered in Greek art, is often accompanied by the other non-Greek
elements of inconsistent size and viewpoint. In historical relief sculpture continuous
narrative is frequently associated with the Italo-Etruscan stylistic characteristics that
have been implicated in conveying a message of devotion to Romanitas and antique
Roman virtue on the part of the sponsor. Anomalous size and perspective are
508
features of unsophisticated art that can be seen on the Esquiline Frieze from the 4
th
century B.C., the earliest extant Roman painting. It may be postulated that
continuous narrative was a feature of early Roman painting and that the non-Greek
characteristics of antique Republican art may have been combined in visual
narratives such as Trajan’s Column in order to reinforce the portrait of Trajan as an
ideal Republican general.
Both inconsistencies in size and perspective and the continuous narrative
style fulfilled an additional role in Roman art, catering to the Roman propensity for
telling complete stories. Continuous narrative permitted more episodes to be
delineated in a given space. The inclusion of disproportionately small landscape
elements, together with buildings seen from viewpoints that emphasized their most
recognizable attributes, permitted topographic features to be shown in great detail.
These considerations were specifically involved in historical and biographical
narratives that relied for their impact on the cumulative effect of deeds performed
by the honoree. According to Cicero (De Or. 144-5), a wealth of detail makes an
account appear more trustworthy, and the provision of additional information served
to validate the historicity of such monuments as an authentic record of fact. In the
mythological landscapes the combination of variable size, changes in perspective
and the illogical features of continuous narrative contributed to the constitution of
an irrational and magical world where natural laws have ceased to operate.
2
Fascination with the continuous narrative style may also be correlated with a
Roman proclivity for complexity in visual stories. Otto Brendel considered that
509
stories in Roman art are seldom simply told.
3
More often than not, they are part of a
broader context, illustrating a moral or political message or some other underlying
concept, and were intended to impress, instruct, express abstractions or evoke the
arcane. The ambition to tell complex stories in visual form labors under certain
difficulties, recognized by Aristotle in his Poetics (1459b). He considered that the
superiority of poetry over art resided in the ability to address several themes at the
same time. Roman developments in continuous narrative may be regarded as an
attempt to circumvent the disadvantages inherent in the visual mode of story telling.
An aspect of continuous narrative that may have appealed greatly to the Romans is
its ability to suggest linkages among apparently disconnected events, functioning as
an aid to viewer interpretation. Understanding complex narratives involves an
interpretation of how certain actions resulted in a final resolution. According to Guy
Hedreen’s assessment of narrative reception, “Looking for significant causal
relationships among the parts of a story is a fundamental response to narration as a
genre.”
4
Continuous narrative facilitated interpretation, not only by increasing the
number of episodes that could be displayed but by providing a linkage between
them, so that the outcome may be envisaged as the cumulative consequence of a
complete sequence of events. The linkage of cause and effect was well suited to the
Roman concept of a didactic role for history. The utility of history resided in its
ability to determine the consequences of good and bad behavior, in order to provide
examples for the future conduct of affairs. The single panel type of continuous
510
narrative also enhanced the moral implications of myth by linking a crime and its
punishment within a single, expansive picture.
A further advantage of employing the continuous narrative style was its
tendency to mitigate the necessarily episodic character of visual narratives.
Limitations of space dictated that a select number of disjointed episodes from a
story must be elected for display. Linkage within an undivided setting indicated to
the viewer that these events were connected to form a single, continuous story. The
continuous style was particularly appropriate for the portrayal of an ongoing story
without a definitive beginning or end, such as the story of Rome shown on the frieze
of the Basilica Aemilia. The continuous arrangement of scenes implies a
paradigmatic connection among the events that overrides their apparent
dissimilarity.
Roman continuous narrative of the single panel type sometimes served the
same function as the simultaneous narratives on Archaic Greek vases, supplying a
linkage to events in the past or future. On the Tabula Iliaca Capitolinum, for
example, the narrative links the last episode from the story of Troy to the first
episode in the story of Rome by following the activities of Aeneas within the
context of the fall of Troy. The story of Dirce in the House of Julius Polybius
contains references to both past and future, linked to the major episodes of Dirce’s
capture and punishment, and the Polyphemus painting from Boscotrecase refers to
the bleak fate awaiting the Cyclops in the distant future.
511
The unrealistic and irrational nature of continuous narrative may offer an
explanation for its almost complete abandonment by the Classical Greeks and also
for its acceptability to the Romans. Peter von Blanckenhagen has characterized
Greek narrative art as devoted to realism and naturalism, with a reliance on the
unities of time and space enunciated by Aristotle for tragic drama.
5
Continuous
narrative is always illogical to a certain degree, because it implies that a protagonist
is simultaneously engaged in more than a single activity. In the frieze format the
viewer may more readily envisage that the successive episodes, viewed
sequentially, are occurring at different times and in different spaces, and all known
continuous narratives before the 1
st
century B.C. were of the frieze type. The
Telephos Frieze, representing a major Hellenistic revival of the continuous narrative
style, features a frieze with elements of landscape and architecture, seen from a
consistent viewpoint and with appropriate proportions of figures, trees and pillars.
The Roman invention, the single panel type of continuous narrative, was less easy
to rationalize. Combining two episodes in a single setting required what Roger Ling
has called “a suspension of belief,” because the same person appears to occupy two
distinct spaces at the same time.
6
Tracing the history of Roman visual narrative
from its earliest manifestation in triumphal art indicates that the Romans were
always prepared to sacrifice the rational, realistic representation of space and time,
subordinating such considerations to viewer reception and conveyance of a desired
message to a varied audience. Even in the genre of decorative mythological
paintings the Romans were unwilling to leave outcomes or causes to the
512
imagination of the viewer. The popularity and development of the continuous
narrative style in Roman art may be attributed to a Roman concentration on telling
complex stories as completely as possible and ensuring that an audience made the
“correct’ interpretation. Continuous narrative enhanced the reception of messages as
diverse as the preeminence and success of a general and the moral implications to
be drawn from a mythological story. It may be considered as one of the most
complex and successful Roman developments in the field of narrative art and as a
major artistic achievement.
513
Notes: Chapter 7.
1. Wickhoff (1895) Wickhoff’s comparison of the medieval illuminated manuscript
of the Genesis in Vienna and the narrative of Trajan’s Column was responsible
for his definition of continuous narrative, which specified a continuous landscape
background.
2. Blanckenhagen and Alexander (1990) 43.
3. Brendel (1979) 28.
4. Hedreen (2001) 15.
5. Blanckenhagen (1957) 80.
6. Ling (1991) 115.
514
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Abstract (if available)
Abstract
The dissertation investigates the continuous narrative format in Roman art, exploring its origins in art of the ancient Mediterranean and discussing developments in the interdisciplinary context of Roman culture and society. Although individual examples of continuous narrative have been extensively studied, no synthesis to date has related the various artifacts as members of a distinct genre or attempted to situate such a genre as the product of Roman societal, cultural and intellectual developments. The study provides a novel approach to both Roman narratology and the investigation of message transmission between ancient artists and their audience.
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University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
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Asset Metadata
Creator
Von Dippe, Roger David
(author)
Core Title
The origin and development of continuous narrative in Roman art, 300 B.C. - A.D. 200
School
College of Letters, Arts and Sciences
Degree
Doctor of Philosophy
Degree Program
Art History
Publication Date
12/13/2007
Defense Date
09/04/2007
Publisher
University of Southern California
(original),
University of Southern California. Libraries
(digital)
Tag
Art History,narrative,OAI-PMH Harvest,Roman
Language
English
Advisor
Pollini, John (
committee chair
), Boyle, Anthony (
committee member
), Yasin, Ann -Marie (
committee member
)
Creator Email
rvod20@aol.com
Permanent Link (DOI)
https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-m980
Unique identifier
UC151936
Identifier
etd-VonDippe-20071213 (filename),usctheses-m40 (legacy collection record id),usctheses-c127-491566 (legacy record id),usctheses-m980 (legacy record id)
Legacy Identifier
etd-VonDippe-20071213.pdf
Dmrecord
491566
Document Type
Dissertation
Rights
Von Dippe, Roger David
Type
texts
Source
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Repository Name
Libraries, University of Southern California
Repository Location
Los Angeles, California
Repository Email
cisadmin@lib.usc.edu
Tags
narrative
Roman