IT has been remarked in the preceding section that the term “Etruscan art” admits, in many respects, of no definite restriction. The southern boundaries of the country between the Po and the Gulf of Tarention had early been colonized by the Greeks, but its artistic industry was, in the primitive historical ages, chiefly in the hands of the Etruscans, and their name alone has on this account been applied to the architecture, sculpture, and painting of all Central Italy. But neighboring races, notably the Umbrians, Latins, and Sabines, also took part in the development of this artistic civilization—advancing, in great measure, from common starting-points, and with like results. The migrations and commerce of the nations inhabiting the Italian peninsula were not less extended and active than were those of the people occupying the Peloponnesos and the islands of the Ægean Sea: the relations to the Orient, through the medium of Phoenician traders, were much the same in both cases, and it is not strange that similar phases of advance are noticeable, though restricted in rapidity and degree, among tribes dwelling in the regions more remote from the sea.

Fig. 264.—Gate of the Walls of Norba.
Fig. 264.—Gate of the Walls of Norba.

Between the Tiber and Garigliano, as well as between the Arno and Tiber, there exist extensive remains of Cyclopean masonry, as well as walls of hewn and squared stones. The former were predominant in the mountainous interior, as at Alatrium, Arpinum, Aurunca, Cora, Cures, EcetrÆ, Ferentinum, Medullia, Norba, PrÆneste, Signia, Sora, Tibur, VerulÆ, etc.; the latter in the low rolling land between the Apennines and the Tyrrhenian Sea, as at Æsernia, Antium, Ardea, Aricia, Aufidena, Lavinium, Politorium or ApiolÆ, Satricum, Scaptia, TellenÆ, Tusculum, and Rome. They frequently occur in contemporary works, as, for example, in the well-preserved polygonal ruins of Norba and Signia (the present Norma and Segni) and the horizontal courses of the Servian fortification, both of which constructions date from the period of the later kings. The age of these works can usually be roughly estimated: the Cyclopean walls of Olevano, of enormous unhewn boulders, like the fortifications of Tiryns, are evidently of greater antiquity than the carefully fitted polygonal masonry of Norba and Signia (Fig. 264), where the separate stones are tooled to plane faces and sides; while the irregular horizontal courses of unequal thickness, which form the older Latin ramparts, precede, in point of time, the exactly jointed blocks of the Servian walls of Rome. A more exact classification or chronological determination is not possible.

Among all the remains of primitive walls in Italy, those of Rome are naturally the most interesting. It unfortunately cannot be definitely proved that a part of a rampart upon the western corner of the Palatine, excavated thirty years ago from the rubbish and brick revetment of the imperial period, appertained to the fortifications which surrounded the city of Romulus. But this masonry, though not perhaps attributable to the eighth century, is certainly of an early age of Roman history. It is formed of oblong stones, exactly hewn, and laid in courses of stretchers and headers, without the use of mortar, the careful jointing showing a high degree of technical perfection. The better-authenticated remains of the circuit wall of Servius Tullius are similar in character. They have been best preserved upon the southern slope of the Aventine, east of the Via di S. Prisca, where they attain a height of 10 m., with a length of 30 m. (Fig. 265.) The arrangement of the jointing, however, is not so well considered as that in the former example, the vertical interstices of adjoining courses being frequently continuous.

The passage formed a small vestibule or chamber in the thickness of the wall, which required inner and outer portals, like those of the Temple of Janus upon the Velabrum, which, long after the ruin of the Servian fortifications, and even down to the time of the empire, were sacredly preserved as relics. A similar arrangement existed in Etruria even more frequently than in the Latin cities.

The Roman gates were so doubled as to form two passages side by side—one for entrance, the other for exit; a comparatively narrow opening could thus provide ample space for those moving only in the same direction. It is not certainly known how these Roman gates were covered. The oldest vestiges of masonry in Latium show no traces of vaulting, while other means of accomplishing the connection have been preserved almost intact, such as the heavy lintels upon vertical or inclined jambs, as at Segni, Circello, Alatri, and Olevano; or the gradual projection of the horizontal courses beyond those beneath them, as at Arpino. The primitive houses for springs, and the so-called Mamertine Prison, show that vaulting was not practised in Rome or the neighboring Latin cities during the early ages; the Prison, probably built in the time of Servius Tullius, appears to have been somewhat similar in construction to the Greek tholos. A further example of this kind is the chamber for a fountain in Tusculum, where the stone slabs of the ceiling lean so as to form a sort of continuous gable.

Rome owed more to the last fifty years of its hated kings than to the two following centuries. From the royal period dates one of the most important monuments of vaulted construction, the Cloaca Maxima of Rome, built in the reign of Tarquinius Superbus, and probably under the direction of engineers from his native Etruria. To this gigantic work, admired even in the time of the magnificent Roman empire, is undoubtedly owing the preservation of the Eternal City, which it has secured from the swamping that has befallen its neighboring plains. Its quarried stones are still visible beneath the later brick arches in the vicinity of S. Giorgio in Velabro. (Fig. 266.) The building of drains naturally led to extensive works upon the banks of the river, which protected the thickly populated city; it was forgotten that, in earlier ages, it had often been necessary to traverse the Velabrum in boats, and that the spring freshets had extended a sheet of water between the Palatine and Capitoline hills.

Fig. 266.—Cloaca Maxima.
Fig. 266.—Cloaca Maxima.

All these structures were emphatically works of engineering; the building of walls, gateways, drains, and vaulted roofs presented nothing to elevate them into independent and artistic monuments of architecture. Among the Roman temples of this period only two appear to have been of importance for the history of art—the national shrine of Diana upon the Aventine, and the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus; both built by the last three kings, Tarquinius Priscus, Servius Tullius, and Tarquinius Superbus. The first of these structures has been compared to the Artemesion at Ephesos, the national sanctuary of the Ionians; but it would be wrong to draw from this a conclusion in regard to the style of the Latin temple of the same goddess, which was most probably Tuscan, as that of the Temple of Jupiter is known to have been, from descriptions given by ancient writers as well as from the recent excavations of Jordan. According to Dionysios of Halicarnassos, the substructure of this latter building—eight hundred Roman feet in circumference—was only fifteen feet greater in length than in width; these dimensions agree well with the proportion of five to six given by Vitruvius for the temple architecture of the Etruscans. The cella of the Capitoline temple was divided into three ÆdiculÆ, another peculiarity assigned by the Roman writer to the sacred edifices of Etruria; it had three ranges of columns, of six each, before the cella, which provided a portico equal in depth to half the entire length of the building. The ornamentation, which will be treated more fully in the section upon Roman sculpture, was wholly the work of the Etruscans. This race had, indeed, settled in Rome between the Capitol and the Palatine, where the name of Vicus Tuscus preserved, until late historical times, the memory of their settlement and of the considerable part taken by them in the peopling of ancient Rome. It is even stated by Pliny (xxxv. 12, 45, and 154) that, for seventeen years after the expulsion of the kings—namely, until the building of the Temple of Ceres upon the Circus—all the sanctuaries of Rome were Etruscan; that is to say, were not only built in the Tuscan style, which might more properly be called the ancient Italian, but were erected by Etruscan artificers, or, at least, under the direction of Etruscan artists.

Even the Temple of Ceres appears to have been Tuscan in general disposition, its cella having been triply divided and its intercolumniations excessively great, as may be seen by the remains of a later restoration still existing in S. Maria in Cosmedin. In this temple, however, the influence of Greek architecture, introduced through the Hellenic colonies of Magna GrÆcia, had already begun to gain ground in the arrangement and the details, though the ancient Italian traditions were too deeply rooted to permit it essentially to alter the original distribution. The structure remained nearly square, being equally divided between the portico and the cella. This is illustrated by the Temple of Concord, erected by Camillus upon the Forum at the foot of the Capitol in 367 B.C. The limited area, defined by the neighboring buildings and by the steep slope of the hill against which it stood, prevented even later restorations from elongating its plan. The extended oblong of the Hellenic temple was naturally adopted, in place of the heavy proportions of the Tuscan temples, as soon as the execution of the entablature in stone rendered the excessively wide intercolumniations impossible, and placed insurmountable difficulties in the way of the broad front. Still, the Etruscan or ancient Italian division of the building was retained, inasmuch as the columns were usually restricted to a pronaos of great depth, such as is shown by the ruins of four temples in the Forum Romanum. The Roman prostylos, as Vitruvius terms a temple thus planned, may be regarded as the first compromise effected between the ancient Italian and the Hellenic disposition. (Figs. 267 and 271.)

Fig. 267.—Temple of Fortuna Virilis. Fig. 268.—Temple of Antoninus and Faustina.
Fig. 267.—Temple of Fortuna Virilis. Fig. 268.—Temple of Antoninus and Faustina.

The early Italian manner of abutting the undeveloped back of the building upon the circuit wall of the temenos, or against a cliff, seems to have long remained in practice; but, in cases where this was impossible, the bare sides and rear of the cella appeared intolerable when compared with the outstanding wings of the Greek peripteros. Although, in some instances, the prostylos plan was adopted in later ages, as in the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina (Fig. 268) in the Forum, where the enclosing walls of the cella are treated with pilasters, this was only in cases where the sanctuary was so crowded by adjoining buildings that little else than the portico could be seen. In completely isolated structures the desire of approaching the peripteral effect led to the application of engaged columns to the side and rear walls of the cella, thus attaining, in the so-called prostylos pseudoperipteros, the highest stage of that development of sacred architecture which was peculiar to Rome. The purely peripteral form was naturally adopted in later times, primitive cellas being enclosed by outstanding ranges of columns; but two fundamental peculiarities were always retained: the pronaos always formed a deep portico, and the naos always remained a spacious hall, the peripteral columns being fitted to it, and made of subordinate importance. The dimensions of the cella were thus not restricted by the pteroma, as was the case in the temples of Greece, and especially in those of Sicily; for the chief difference between the architectural tendencies of the Greeks and the Romans was that the former devoted their attention almost exclusively to the perfection of external appearance, creating monuments of unequalled beauty, while the latter held material usefulness to be of the first importance, assigning to technical excellence a second place, and to artistic design but a third, thus creating imposing interiors admirably adapted to their purposes.

The details of their architecture were with the Romans purely decorative and applied. The Doric style, which had predominated in Lower Italy and Sicily, and must have offered the most numerous models near at hand, was nevertheless least employed. It would be difficult to decide whether this is to be ascribed to the similarity of the Tuscan and Doric styles, and their derivation from a common prototype, or to the development of the two manners of building in different directions; certain it is that the channelled shaft was not employed, and the Doric entablature appeared only in an attenuated and purely ornamental imitation, above the wide intercolumniations of the ancient Italian faÇade. The Tuscan (Fig. 269) became somewhat higher in proportion to its diameter, and was slightly altered in detail. The epistyle was diminished to a narrow band, and, in the smaller temples, was usually carved from one stone with the frieze of triglyphs, thus destroying the separate importance of these two members. The diminutive triglyphs were frequently increased in number above the intercolumniations; the chamferings were terminated above by a straight line, while the guttÆ were lengthened and had a more marked conical form. The proportionally small metopes were either entirely without sculptured ornament, or were provided with rosettes, disks, and the heads of oxen; which last were introduced as a reminiscence of the barbaric custom, prevalent in early times, of affixing the skulls of the sacrificed animals to the wooden entablature. The corona was usually not inclined like this member in the Doric cornice; the mutules lost their guttÆ, and became simplified to plain consoles. (Fig. 270.) In some instances Ionic elements were introduced into the Doric entablature, as in the sarcophagus—now in the Vatican—of L. Corn. Scipio Barbatus, who was consul in 298 B.C., where an Ionic cornice surmounts the frieze of triglyphs, and Ionic spirals decorate the lid. The Theatre of Marcellus displays a similar combination; and, in other cases, Doric forms are entirely supplanted by simplified Ionic members.

Fig. 270.—Temple at Cori.
Fig. 270.—Temple at Cori.

Fig. 271.—Temple of Fortuna Virilis.
Fig. 271.—Temple of Fortuna Virilis.

Towards the end of the third century B.C. the Ionic style was generally introduced; yet, according to the nature of Roman architecture, which did but borrow external features from foreign nations, itself supplying the general disposition and constructive forms, it became nothing more than a decorative adjunct: the Grecian style became a Roman order. Attic Ionic influences were naturally more prevalent than those of Asia Minor. This was particularly fortunate, because a canon of mathematical rules early took the place of independent development, hardening the forms into formulas. This mechanical method of design was favored by the extended application of engaged columns and pilasters which did not require the complete execution of the elaborate capital, while, in the decoration of colossal buildings of several stories, the distance from the eye rendered a simplification of the Ionic helices natural, as well as more suitable to the coarse and porous stone employed by the Roman builders. (Fig. 271.) The complicated corner capital of the Ionic style could not, however, be avoided upon the free-standing columns of the temple fronts, and the execution of this member must have been exceedingly troublesome to artisans accustomed to work everything after one model. It is therefore to be regarded as a direct consequence of the Roman architectural system that a variety of the Ionic capitals appeared in later times which omitted the rolls and displayed the spirals upon all four sides. This form, as exemplified by the Temple of Saturn upon the Clivus Capitolinus, seems to have arisen by repeating the two outer sides of the corner capital upon those remaining. The entablature was of great simplicity, perhaps because the comparatively rare employment of this order left it undeveloped.

Before the Roman had decided upon the practical but inartistic repetition of the volutes upon all four sides—by which the nature of the Ionic capital was destroyed, and the spiral treated in the early Asiatic manner as mere ornament—the Corinthian capital had come into general and popular use. It has already been explained, in the section upon Hellenic architecture, that the Corinthian capital attained no typical form in its native country, and could not be ranked with the Doric and Ionic styles, being a mere variety of the Ionic capital without any individual formation of the shaft and entablature. The Corinthian columns of the uncompleted Temple of the Olympian Zeus at Athens, which Sulla transported to Rome about the year 84 B.C. for the rebuilding of the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, were, if not the first in Rome, at least those which were in later times taken by Roman architects as typical examples of their style. The Roman architect justly preferred the Corinthian capital because of its capacity for more varied application, without that fatal difficulty at the corners inherent in the Ionic style, and because of its rich effect, even when less carefully and delicately detailed. The preference for the Corinthian may be justifiable, but that form of Composite capital into which it developed, by a multiplication of its ornaments and the addition of four spirals upon the corners, must be regarded as a debasement. (Fig. 273.) The fact should not be overlooked that this arrangement of acanthus around a concave kernel best solves the problem of the capital as a mediating member between the vertical support and the horizontal entablature, as well as between the circular plan of the shaft and the rectangle of the epistyle. (Fig. 272.)

The leaves and tendrils of the capital were at last introduced into the entablature, which thereby assumed a peculiar character, and permitted the Romans, for whom the forms of Hellenic architecture were nothing more than a decorative mask, to place the Corinthian, as an independent order, by the side of the Ionic and the Tuscan or Doric. As the Corinthian base had been formed by a combination of the Ionic and Attic mouldings, the consoles of the cornice resulted from a fusion of Ionic dentils and Doric mutules. The simplicity and slight projection of the dentils did not suffice for the requirements of florid Roman architecture; the horizontal mutules without guttÆ, characteristic of the later Tuscan style, consequently took their place, supported by the spiral brackets which had been already employed as the parotides beneath the cornices over Ionic doorways. A richly foliated ornamentation fully harmonized these new members with the acanthus capital, and gave to the entire cornice an independent importance and a certain lavish elegance, soon, however, debased by the extravagance of the decorators. Continued increase of ornament resulted in a want of attention to the general composition—a loss which the multiplication of the details could ill supply, especially as they were without even formal beauty.

Fig. 272.—Corinthian Capital from the Pantheon.
Fig. 272.—Corinthian Capital from the Pantheon. Fig. 273.—Composite Capital.

The sacred buildings of the Romans have been considered thus at length because offering the best opportunity for a characterization of the orders; yet the significance of their national architecture is not to be found in the temples, but rather in their structures for public utility and comfort. In these the technical naturally far exceeded the artistic element, and it is consequently in points of construction that the great advances of the Romans appear. In these methods they were almost wholly independent, and were by far the most important people of antiquity. Masonry of brick and hewn stones early attained great extent and perfection, furthered by the excellent materials at hand—the hard Tiburtine and Travertine limestones, the tufa so easily carved, the unequalled clay for bricks, and the famous volcanic sand and pozzuolana which, when combined with lime, harden to the firmest stone. Vaulting was generally introduced as early as the time of the kings, the walls and ceiling forming an uninterrupted mass of homogeneous materials; the vertical and horizontal members, support and covering, being blended together without marked transition. Before this system of construction was invented the spacious and monumental development of protected rooms had been possible only under great limitations; without it these chief ends of Roman architecture could not have been attained.

The building of barrel vaults with hewn stones, as observed in the Cloaca Maxima, was attended with certain difficulties; the great weight of the masonry permitted a moderately large span only when immense and cumbrous buttresses were provided. This objection was, in a great degree, obviated by the employment of bricks, but the size of the spaces covered was limited by the necessity of heavy supporting-walls at the sides. The full scope of vaulted construction was not recognized until the introduction, by the Romans, of the intersecting or cross vaults, or the so-called groined arch. This replaced the two side walls previously necessary to support the barrel vault, by piers upon the four corners, at the same time opening the covered space on all four sides. The way was thus prepared for an indefinite series of such quadrangular compartments, or bays, covering a continuous space. A third development of this principle, the hemispherical vault or cupola, was of more restricted application, having been employed only for circular buildings, or, when bisected, for apses, or semicircular additions to the plans of rectangular temples and halls. The date of the first appearance of the cross-vault can hardly have been earlier than the second century B.C.

Fig. 275.—Section of the Pantheon, in its Present Condition.
Fig. 275.—Section of the Pantheon, in its Present Condition.

Fig. 276.—Section of the Pantheon. Restoration by Adler.
Fig. 276.—Section of the Pantheon. Restoration by Adler.

Fig. 277.—Plan of the Baths of Caracalla.
Fig. 277.—Plan of the Baths of Caracalla.

Fig. 278.—Chief Hall of the Baths of Caracalla.
Fig. 278.—Chief Hall of the Baths of Caracalla.

The first secular buildings which attained monumental importance were undoubtedly those erected for public usefulness, like the extensive covered canals so requisite to the very existence of Rome. On the one hand, it was necessary, by means of gigantic sewers, to drain the low land, which was not only full of springs, but was periodically flooded by the Tiber; on the other, to provide the metropolis with good water by aqueducts extending to great distances. Still, it was not until the year 312 B.C., more than two centuries after the building of the Cloaca Maxima, that the first work of this kind, the Aqua Appia, was completed, simultaneously with the first great military road, by the famous censor Appius Claudius CÆcus. This entirely subterranean aqueduct, eight Roman miles long, was followed, down to the time of Diocletian, by no less than thirteen similar constructions of increased dimensions and magnificence. (Fig. 274.) Almost all extended to the mountains which surround the Campagna, even reaching a length of forty-two Roman miles. They provided so great a quantity of excellent water that one third part of it would have been more than sufficient for the real necessities of the city. Stupendous arches raised the conduits high above the ground, while valleys and ravines were spanned by mighty works of engineering, even rivalling the bridges upon the great military roads. The greater part of the water thus obtained was used for the baths, which were increased under the emperors to a measureless luxury, and provided the chief means by which these rulers purchased the favor of the populace. There were in Rome no less than eight hundred and fifty-six private baths open to the use of every citizen for a certain price, besides the great imperial structures which were free to the public. The first founder of these free baths was Agrippa, in 25 B.C., who appears to have followed, in their general arrangement, the type of a Greek gymnasion. The bodily exercises of early times, by which the military power of the State had been trained, were succeeded under the empire by a luxurious care for physical well-being; gymnastic drill appeared unnecessary to the sovereigns of all the known world, while the bath and the toilet became more and more important. Thus, in the Roman baths, the spaces for serious athletic contests, which had formed the principal part of the Greek gymnasion, were wholly subordinated to the departments for indolent luxury and light amusements. The primitive bathing-chambers were enlarged to magnificent halls, which offered the greatest scope for the development of that interior architecture which was cultivated with such great success by the Romans. This grandeur is evident in the imposing rotunda still remaining from the Baths of Agrippa, the remarkable circular structure which, because of its beauty, was transformed by Agrippa himself into a temple—the Pantheon—by the addition of Corinthian columns. (Figs. 275 and 276.) The building, not having been originally planned for an isolated position, is wholly undeveloped upon the exterior, but its massive construction and harmonious proportions have merited the admiration accorded to it in all ages. From the existing remains it cannot be surely determined whether the Baths of Nero, Titus, Trajan, and Commodus, which followed the great creation of Agrippa, surpassed it in dimensions and magnificence; but it is certain that this was the case with the enormous structures of Caracalla and of Diocletian, as the entire plan of the former, with parts of the mosaic pavements, still remains; while the main hall of the latter, in almost perfect preservation, forms the chief part of the Church of S. Maria degli Angeli. The principal structure was usually surrounded by an extensive enclosure, which, in the case of the Baths of Caracalla (Fig. 277), was formed upon the front (a) by a series of separate cabinets. Upon the sides were segmental projections, or exedras (b), with various chambers (c), probably intended for intellectual entertainments, such as rhetorical and poetical dissertations, etc.; while the rectangle was closed by a one-sided stadion, with spaces for gymnastic purposes (d), and a reservoir for water (e). The central building provided upon either side enormous halls for games, preparatory to the ablutions (g, p), between them (i, k, l) the spaces for the cold, tepid, and hot baths; while the adjoining smaller chambers served as rooms for dressing and the manifold processes of the toilet. Between this chief structure and the enclosure race-courses and promenades, with fountains and beds of flowers, added the charms of nature to the magnificence of architecture. The public Baths of Alexander Severus, Decius, and Constantine appear to have been less extended; but these were far surpassed in size by the constructions of Diocletian, which could accommodate three thousand bathers. The Roman buildings for the circus, the theatres, and amphitheatres were of scarcely less importance. The extreme simplicity of the Circus Maximus recalls the early Greek hippodrome; the slopes of the Palatine and Aventine served as a station for the spectators, while the level ground in the valley between formed the arena. It was not until 327 B. C. that the barriers (carceres) were architecturally embellished, and even the rebuilding of the whole by CÆsar was limited to the erection of the lower stories of the auditorium in stone. The wooden superstructure was not replaced by a more permanent and monumental construction until the time of Domitian and Trajan. The general plan was adopted from the Greek model, the peculiarities of the Roman arrangement being a low division wall, or spina, the position of the barriers, and the moat which surrounded the arena (euripis), intended to protect the lower tiers of spectators during the combats of wild beasts. The spina, connecting the two turning-posts (metÆ), was ornamented with memorial columns, altars, Ædiculas, statues, obelisks, and the like; it did not follow a direction precisely parallel to the side seats, but allowed a considerably broader space upon the right than upon the left, so that the many chariots here crowded together early in the race might not be too greatly impeded. That all the competitors might have an equally favorable position when brought into line, it was necessary that the starting-points should be arranged in the segment of a circle, the centre of which was a little to the right of the spina. This plan may be recognized in the best-preserved Roman circuses, as, for instance, in that at BovillÆ, near Albano, and that of Romulus, the son of Maxentius, upon the Via Appia. (Fig. 279.) The Circus Maximus, like all the other structures of its kind in Rome, has been entirely destroyed.

Fig. 280.—Scheme of the Roman Theatre, according to Vitruvius.
Fig. 280.—Scheme of the Roman Theatre, according to Vitruvius.

In the earlier periods of Roman history, the theatre did not receive the recognition and assistance of the government; and the law in force until the end of the republic, which permitted no theatre with seats to be constructed within the limits of the city, prevented any monumental development in this direction. Dramatic representations, however, were not to be suppressed after an acquaintance with the Greek drama had once been formed. Comedy was especially popular, and Roman authors devoted their attention to it with success. But these plays were performed only upon festival days, and were undertaken by individuals. The creation of the improvised stage, for transient usage, thus fell to the lot of those politicians whose desire it was to win the favor of the populace. In the latter days of the republic structures were reared which equalled the extravagant magnificence of the Diadochi; the Ædile M. Scaurus, for instance, erected a gigantic theatre, to stand only a few days, which provided seats for no less than eighty thousand spectators, the stage being ornamented by three hundred and sixty marble columns and three thousand bronze statues. This boundless waste was brought to an end through the building of the first stone theatre in Rome, by Pompey, who, notwithstanding his great political power, could succeed in silencing the objections made by the conservative party against this innovation only by the pretence that the stone seats were the steps of a temple, which he erected upon the summit of the cavea. This first permanent structure was succeeded during the reign of Augustus by two other theatres, those of Marcellus and of Balbus; the first could seat but a quarter as many spectators as did the theatre of Pompey—namely, twenty thousand—while that of Balbus provided places for only eleven thousand six hundred. In later imperial times even this capacity was found too great. The theatre lost much of its attraction after the Roman people had once seen blood flow in the arena. Yet in all the Roman empire there was scarcely a city of importance where a stone theatre was not erected during the reign of Augustus; even small towns like Tusculum, where the remains are particularly well preserved, boasted of these monuments. The characteristic differences between the Roman theatre and the Greek, its prototype, were that the orchestra did not exceed a semicircle, the front of the stage (A A) being so advanced as to form its diameter, which thus brought the actors nearer to the spectators. (Fig. 280.) The open half of the circle was not, as in Greece, reserved for the evolutions of the chorus, but was occupied by the senators and the higher classes of citizens, who brought thither their own seats. The auditorium, which, with the orchestra, had been restricted to a semicircle, assumed a peculiar form upon the exterior, the entire building standing in a plain, and only rarely, as in Tusculum, occupying a natural slope. With the introduction of vaulting, massive foundations of masonry were rendered unnecessary. Barrel vaults were placed one above another, terminating upon the exterior in a series of arcades, the decorative features of Roman architecture being usually so applied that the lower story displayed engaged Tuscan columns, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian pilasters, with their respective entablatures. This treatment of the exterior is shown in the best preservation by the remaining amphitheatres; but vestiges of theatres may still be seen sufficient to serve as illustrations, like that of Marcellus (Fig. 281), and those at Orange in Southern France, at Aspendos in Asia Minor, etc.

Fig. 282.—Plan of the Flavian Amphitheatre.
Fig. 282.—Plan of the Flavian Amphitheatre.

Fig. 283.—Section of the Auditorium of the Flavian Amphitheatre.
Fig. 283.—Section of the Auditorium of the Flavian Amphitheatre.

Imposing as the architectural appearance of the Roman theatre was, magnificently and suitably as it was planned, it could never attain great national, and consequently historical, importance, because tragedy was never popular and comedy never political. The warlike and bloody scenes presented by the mortal combats of gladiators and wild beasts had a far greater attraction for a people who, by nature, felt more reverence for Mars than for the Muses. It was long, however, before these exhibitions were provided with especial arenas. After the introduction of the gladiatorial contests by Marcus and Decius Brutus, in 264 B.C., upon the occasion of funeral games, the prisoners of war had fought together upon the Forum; and the slaughter of powerful animals, inaugurated under Metellus by the killing of elephants taken from the Carthaginians in 252 B.C., and continued under Æmilius Paullus by the sacrifice of deserters to beasts of prey, had taken place in the Circus. But this could not have been well suited to the purpose, as its limited width was impeded by the spina, and its side barriers could not have offered sufficient protection to the spectators from the desperate attempts of the infuriated animals to escape. As early as 59 B.C., Caius Curio had surprised the Roman people with two wooden theatres, built back to back, and arranged so as to turn bodily upon their axes after the conclusion of the scenic performances, so that the two auditories faced one another, and left between them an arena for the succeeding combats of gladiators. It is not certain whether this was the original of the amphitheatre, or whether the oval plan arose from simply giving broader proportions to that form of stadion, like the one at Aphrodisias in Caria, which was terminated by a semicircle at each end. But it is scarcely to be doubted that the wooden Theatrum Venatorium of CÆsar had the disposition which was repeated, with but few alterations, in the stone amphitheatre of Statilius Taurus, built during the reign of Augustus, and in those of wood erected by Augustus, Tiberius, and Nero. By the time of the Flavians it was recognized that no gift was so acceptable to the Roman populace as the provision of a magnificent place fitted for these inhuman games, and thus arose that most gigantic edifice of all ages—the Colosseum. (Figs. 282 and 283.) Even provincial towns like Reggio, Pompeii, Herculaneum, Albanum, Tusculum, Sutri, Pola, Verona, Nismes, Treves, Constantine, etc., were provided with edifices of this kind, fully as important in proportion to the number of their inhabitants.

The mausoleums and monuments erected in honor of prominent citizens constitute an important class in the architectural history of Rome. In early times a tumulus form, similar to that of the Etruscan tombs, seems to have predominated. The older monuments in the vicinity of Rome were thus constructed. A tumulus, the lower cylinder of which appears to have been elevated upon a square substructure decorated with Tuscan pilasters, may be assumed to have existed above the remarkable sepulchral labyrinth of the Scipios, outside the Porta Appia, and within the present Porta S. Sebastiano. In course of time the circular drum of masonry increased, while the original cone was diminished to a pointed roof; the magnificent tombs of CÆcilia Metella, the wife of Crassus, and of the Plautii upon the Via Appia and Via Tiburtina, show it as already preponderating. The tumulus of Augustus upon the Via Flaminia, at present within the Porta del Popolo, displays a cylinder of 24 m. in diameter, decorated by thirteen niches once provided with statues; while the cone of earth above, which was archaistic agreeably to the affectation of Augustus, was planted with cyprus-trees and terminated by a colossal image of the imperial builder. Even more gigantic was the mausoleum built by Hadrian, the lower portion of which now forms the substructure of the Castle of S. Angelo. It was once surmounted by a second smaller cylinder bearing a conical roof. When the area at disposal was too limited for the adoption of so extended a base, the monument rose, like a tower, to a great height, in successive stories of decreasing dimensions, with or without columns, as in the fine example of St. Remy in Southern France. The endless rows of tombs upon the Via Appia vary from simple piers and subterranean burial-chambers (called columbaria, from the thousands of niches for funeral urns resembling the nests of doves) to colossal mausoleums. The remains of bulwarks prove that many of these elevations were utilized for mediÆval fortresses. Even foreign forms were employed; the so-called Tomb of the Horatii at Albano resembles that of Porsena, while the Egyptian pyramid is reproduced in the mausoleum of C. Cestius near the Porta di S. Paolo. The conformation of the land presented but little opportunity for the execution of rock-cut tombs with a front carved in the cliff; but one remarkable example has been preserved upon the Lake of Albano, called, from the twelve fasces introduced in its decoration, the Tomb of the Consuls. In the mountainous provinces of the East these sepulchres were more common, as, for instance, in Petra, where numbers of faÇades hewn in the rock, with a kind of decorative temple-like architecture, betray magnificence rather than good taste. (Fig. 284.)

Fig. 284.—FaÇade and Section of a Rock-cut Tomb at Petra.
Fig. 284.—FaÇade and Section of a Rock-cut Tomb at Petra.

Fig. 285.—Triumphal Arch of Titus.
Fig. 285.—Triumphal Arch of Titus.

The monuments commemorative of individuals do not, as in Greece, deserve to be treated in the section upon sculpture; in Rome the architectural pedestal was more important than the statuesque carving, and, indeed, the image was frequently supplanted altogether by inscriptions. Statues were often placed upon columns. These were often provided with characteristic decorations—as is the case with the prows of vessels upon the shaft of Duilius, erected in 260 B.C.—and were often of gigantic dimensions, thus withdrawing the figures upon their summits from close inspection. The most sumptuous example of these monuments is presented by Trajan’s Column, the base of which contained the sarcophagus of that emperor. The surface of the shaft was either covered with reliefs of many figures which, like the interior staircase, ascended spirally upward, as upon the Columns of Trajan and of Marcus Aurelius, or were merely treated with architectural forms like the granite column of Antoninus Pius, the relief upon the pedestal of which is given below. (Fig. 304.) There are similar shafts, dating from the Roman occupation, at Cussi in France, at Alexandria, Constantinople, and Ancyra. In all these works the portrait was far exceeded in importance by the monument; sculpture was rendered subordinate to architecture. This was the case in a still greater degree in the triumphal and commemorative arches. As the equestrian statues and quadrigas have disappeared from all the works of this kind now preserved, it might easily be forgotten that these figures were in reality the principal part of the composition, and the arches beneath them little else than pedestals placed above the streets, and consequently provided with passages. Festive portals constructed of light timbers and decorated for gala-days doubtless afforded the prototype for these works. Triumphal arches were comparatively rare in the time of the republic, but very common under the emperors. They express the nature of Roman art better, perhaps, than any other class of structures: the mass of masonry, encased in columns and entablatures which were merely ornamental features without constructive functions; the reliefs of small figures crowded together as in a chronicle; the numerous decorative statues above the columns as well as upon the top; the extended inscriptions upon the attic above the arches, which thus formed, in a more restricted sense, the pedestal of the crowning group—these all express characteristic tendencies, and present the best example of the solid but ostentatious construction which predominated in Roman architecture, subordinating ideal beauty to the temporary purpose. Augustus, Trajan, and Hadrian were the chief builders of these monuments, which have remained in all the provinces of Rome: at Benevento, Ancona, Rimini, Susa, and Aosta in Italy; at St. Remy, Orange, BesanÇon, Cavaillon, and Rheims in France; at Alcantara, Merida, Bara, and Caparra in Spain; at Theveste and El Casr in Africa, etc. There are four of these arches in Rome—two with a single passage (those of Drusus and of Titus [Fig. 285]), and two (those of Septimius Severus [Fig. 286] and of Constantine) with additional openings on either side. The Arch of Constantine surpasses its known predecessors in beauty of composition and proportion only because it was patterned after an arch of Trajan, and even built with the same materials. This arch is at once the memorial of one of the most important victories recorded by history, the battle near the Milvian Bridge, and of that unexampled poverty of artistic invention, or rather want of productive energy, which characterized all Roman intellectual life after the time of Constantine.

Fig. 286.—Triumphal Arch of Septimius Severus.
Fig. 286.—Triumphal Arch of Septimius Severus.

The so-called Janus portals were erected above the streets and squares of Rome, much in the same manner as the triumphal arches. They were commonly simple, like the three Jani upon the Forum Romanum, but were increased at street-crossings to extensive quadrifrontes, or structures presenting the same face upon all four sides. The former bore two-faced Jani upon their summits, the latter a four-faced combination like that upon some figures of Hermes—an image well adapted to represent the watcher over the crowded thoroughfares. The Janus Quadrifrons upon the Forum Boarium (Fig. 263) is, with exception of the attic, particularly well preserved; it was richly ornamented by the statues of deities, no less than thirty-two niches being provided upon its walls.

Fig. 287.—Section.
Fig. 287.—Section.

Fig. 288.—Plan of the Primitive Roman Basilica. Restoration by Reber.
Fig. 288.—Plan of the Primitive Roman Basilica. Restoration by Reber.

Fig. 289.—Plan of the Basilica of Maxentius.
Fig. 289.—Plan of the Basilica of Maxentius.

The buildings which surrounded the public squares corresponded in lavish magnificence to the altars, statues, dedicatory columns, and triumphal arches. Broad colonnades with shops formed the enclosure, interrupted by temples, and courts of justice, or curias, which can have differed but little in external appearance from the sacred edifices. Most important among these public buildings were the basilicas, which, in name, purpose, and form, were derived from Greek prototypes. As halls of justice and places for commercial traffic, they may be regarded as covered extensions of the open squares. Several of these buildings, erected during the imperial epoch, are known by considerable remains, but they deviate so greatly in disposition as to have no plan in common beyond that of a hall surrounded by narrow aisles. The oldest Roman structure of this kind, the Basilica Porcia built by Cato in 185 B.C., was of an oblong shape, abutting with one of its ends upon the Forum, while the other was enlarged by a small exedra, or apse. (Figs. 287 and 288.) The chief space was surrounded upon all four sides by two-storied aisles, the central hall, however, not rising above them, as in the Christian basilica, this being difficult of construction because of the slightness of the shafts, and not necessary for the introduction of light. A portico with a flat roof was erected above the entrance, enlivening the bare and extended front wall. Thus the Basilica Porcia did not differ in principle from the early Christian church, and the similarity appears also in the other basilicas of the Roman republic, all of which had their front upon the smaller side. In the courts of the imperial epoch, however, this primitive type was treated with great freedom, and nothing remained of the original arrangement but a large central hall surrounded by a double passage of arcades upon piers, without columns and without an apse. The normal basilica, described by Vitruvius, with two-storied side aisles, faced with its greatest length upon the public square, and had an apse; the basilica at Fanum, built by the Roman writer, was similarly arranged upon the facade, but a clere-story supported upon gigantic columns rose above the lateral passages. These passages opened, from the end opposite the entrance, into an adjoining temple, the pronaos of which served as the tribune of the forensic court. The basilica at Pompeii, of which the narrow side was the front, had no apse, while the Basilica Ulpia had great exedras upon both ends, with the entrance portal upon the longer side. The Basilica of Maxentius (Fig. 289), which was completed by Constantine, was an exception in every respect, being entirely vaulted, and having two apses upon adjoining sides opposite to the two chief entrances. The whole formed one of the most remarkable and important halls of antiquity, with the consideration of which the history of Roman architecture may well be terminated. The original type of the basilica was wholly neglected by later architects, who treated the problem of a forensic hall without restrictions, utilizing the accidental formations of the ground, while endeavoring to combine suitability and the display of ingenious constructions with magnificent novelties of their own invention.

Fig. 290.—Section.
Fig. 290.—Section.

Fig. 291.—Plan of the House of Pansa in Pompeii.
Fig. 291.—Plan of the House of Pansa in Pompeii.

Fig. 292.—Flavian Palace. A. Tablinum; B. Lavarium; C. Basilica; D. Atrium; E. Dining-hall (Œcus); F. NymphÆum.
Fig. 292.—Flavian Palace.
A. Tablinum; B. Lavarium; C. Basilica; D. Atrium; E. Dining-hall (Œcus); F. NymphÆum.

Fig. 293.—Court of the Palace of Diocletian at Spalatro.
Fig. 293.—Court of the Palace of Diocletian at Spalatro.

The Roman dwelling-house was, in the earliest ages, identical with that of Etruria, and, indeed, of all Central Italy. Although related to Hellenic prototypes, the peculiarly Italian atrium, without columnar supports for the roof, remained in use even after the general introduction of the Greek peristyle. At Pompeii a combination of these two varieties of court is met with, the front space being a simple atrium, and that further within a peristyle. Each enclosure was surrounded by chambers. (Figs. 290 and 291.) The mosaic and painted decoration of the floors and walls will be treated in a later section. The small chambers were lighted only through doors opening from the inner courts, and did not share in the architectural importance assigned to the larger halls, which, in the last years of the republic and in the imperial period, transformed the houses of the wealthy into veritable palaces. With the luxury of the table, the magnificence of the dining-room was increased; and, with the growing taste for literature and art, extensive libraries and galleries of pictures became prominent features. Many of the forms adopted for this palatial architecture appear to have been derived from the later Greeks; the designation of halls, as those of Egypt and of Kyzicos, employed by Vitruvius, pointing to the sovereignties of the Diadochi. This enlargement of extensive rooms by columns was, however, in a great degree supplanted by vaulting, in which case the columns were introduced merely as decorative members. Much attention was devoted to a lavish enrichment of these rooms, the shafts being colored marble monoliths, the lacunÆ of the vaulted ceilings overlaid with bronze or richly gilded, and the capitals being sometimes formed of solid metal. One of the halls in these palatial residences, the private basilica, though it may not have been universal, deserves especial consideration because of its great importance in later times. Such courts of justice are mentioned by writers of the Augustan age as forming part of the dwellings of men of condition, “because in their houses councils were held upon public and private matters, and civil cases decided.” These halls were naturally modelled in a great degree after the public basilicas upon the forums, such as the Porcian, Æmilian, Sempronian, and Opimian basilicas, which had been built during the republic; but they appear, when compared with the primitive type of the Roman basilica, to have differed fundamentally in two respects. In the first place, the hall, being surrounded by the chambers of the dwelling, could not be provided with windows like the free-standing, forensic basilicas, and a clerestory rising above the adjoining rooms was consequently adopted. This rendered necessary a second modification. To impose a heavy wall of masonry, besides the timbered ceiling and roof, upon a double story of columns must have seemed inadmissible to the Roman taste for substantial construction. The aisles upon the front and rear were consequently given up, the columns and galleries remaining upon the sides only, the massive masonry of the enclosure thus receiving the thrust of the clere-story wall, and greatly increasing its stability. (Fig. 292.) This loss of continuity could have been of no great disadvantage in the private basilica, as it did not serve, like the free-standing public structures, for traffic and promenades, as well as for sessions of justice. The galleries over the side aisles were frequently omitted, and it appears to have been in these halls that the connection of columns by arches, in the place of lintels, was first introduced. Such archivolts are first known by examples built during the reign of Diocletian, as at Spalatro (Fig. 293); but they soon came into general usage, their practical advantages outweighing the want of Æsthetic fitness inherent in such curved entablatures. It was from these private basilicas that the first Christian churches were architecturally developed. The believers had assembled, during the imperial ages, in the houses of wealthy converts; and as these halls of justice had been used for religious services during times of persecution, it is not strange that, after the recognition of Christianity by the Roman government, their arrangement and even their name should have been retained.

Fig. 294.—Fragment of the Cista PrÆnestina.
Fig. 294.—Fragment of the Cista PrÆnestina.

In Roman architecture were found great intelligence in the solution of the constructive problems involved in the enclosing of large spaces, great independence in the development of technical perfection, and a masterly conformity to the purpose of the structure; but Roman sculpture, although of very extended application, had less independence and significance. The Romans, originally too practical to provide a place for the beautiful beside the useful, first gave decided admission to this art when the political growth of the world’s metropolis had reached the acme of its power; and even then they transferred the question of sculpture to foreign artists in their employ. In the earlier republican period, their practice of this art was scarcely worthy of mention; in the time of the kings, or, at least, until the year 170 of the city, sculpture seems not to have existed in Rome, or only to have been employed in the ornamentation of utensils like the Cista PrÆnestina (Fig. 294) with Phoenician-Etruscan anthemions and figures of animals riveted on. If these may be considered rather as a direct importation from Etruria and the neighboring Grecian and Phoenician colonies than as their own work, it may be said that the Romans of this period had no images of the gods.

The first work of statuary which appears to have been exhibited in Rome was by an Etruscan, Volcanius, or Volca, from Veii. This was the colossal Jupiter sitting upon a throne, ordered by Tarquinius Priscus for the Capitoline Temple. Formed of terra-cotta, the face colored red, and wearing upon the head a chaplet of oak-leaves—originally, perhaps, of bronze, but afterwards of gold—it appears, with the exception of the head, to have been but slightly modelled, as it was covered with an embroidered garment. A Hercules within, and the quadriga upon the gable of the same temple, both also of terra-cotta, are ascribed to this artist. The chariot was, in 296 B.C., replaced by a bronze, which ninety years later was gilded.

Even from the beginning the tone of Roman sculpture was affected by Grecian as well as by Etruscan influences. The image in the Temple of Diana built by Servius Tullius upon the Aventine was a xoanon—a rude puppet of wood imitated from the Artemis of Massalia (Marseilles)—a work after the manner of the Ephesian Artemis, and consequently still undeveloped, and, at the best, Daidalian. Two generations later a more advanced Hellenic style obtained, when, in 493 B.C., two Greeks of Lower Italy, Gorgasos and Damophilos, decorated the Temple of Ceres with paintings and figures of terra-cotta. Eight years later, these were followed by the three divinities of the temple—Ceres, Liber, and Libera—which were the first bronze statues in Rome. But, at the same time with the work of the Grecian artists, and as if to prevent a decided Hellenic preponderance, the wooden image of Juno Regina was brought from Veii to Rome; and this cannot have been without effect upon the figures of Fortuna Muliebris, consecrated four or five years later, in 487 or 486 B.C. In the epoch next following, rife with civil wars and misfortunes of every kind, the pursuit of art seems to have languished, and its necessities to have been met chiefly by booty from the conquered cities of Etruria, though many of the subjects were Roman, like the Janus Geminus, copies of which have been preserved upon coins. (Fig. 295.) Of this period are the Vertumnus and the Lavinian Penates, and especially the first portrait statues of heroes like those of the Ephesian Hermodorus, the interpreter among the lawgivers of the Decemvirate, in 450 B.C.; of Ahala and L. Minucius, as protectors from usurpation, in 439 B.C.; and of the four ambassadors murdered by the Fidenates, in 438 B.C.

Art first became more active when, at the close of the Samnite war, in 288 B.C., the Roman authority began to make itself felt in the Grecian towns of Lower Italy. Then originated the rich sculptured ornaments of the Forum—the statues in honor of MÆnius, Camillus, Tremulus, and Duilius, and also of the Greeks Pythagoras and Alkibiades, commanded by the oracle; further, as shown by Detlefsen to be probable, portraits of the Sibyls, and of Attus Navius, Horatius Cocles, M. ScÆvola, and Porsena, falsely attributed to earlier times. The Capitol was decorated by statues of the seven kings, and of Tatius and Brutus; and the Via Sacra, besides those of Romulus and Tatius, with an equestrian statue of Cloelia. Nothing remains of these works, which were almost exclusively of bronze, and only one sacred figure gives any illustration of their technicalities and style—the Wolf—now preserved in the Capitol. Although the two sucking children are lost, it is probably the one consecrated by Ogulnius under the Ruminal fig-tree, in 295 B.C. (Fig. 260.) Without doubt, the characteristics of this period were more Italian, or, according to the usual term, Etruscan, than Greek; and, in considering the sculptures generally, the predominant influence in the portrait-statues may be ascribed to the Etruscans, and, in those of a devotional character, to the Greeks, since it was from the Greeks that the Romans chiefly borrowed this type.

Two other works preserved from the third century B.C., and designated in the inscription as by Roman artists, show plainly the conflict of the two tendencies. The first of these is the celebrated Cista of Ficoroni, made in Rome, with the inscription of Novius Plautius engraved in the ancient character, found near Palestrina (the ancient PrÆneste), and now in the Kircherian Museum in Rome. Its chief feature, an episode from the legend of the Argonauts, represented in sgraffito upon the vessel, is so purely Greek that it might be regarded as imported ware were it not for the accessories—the bulla, bracelet, and shoes—which point to Italy, perhaps to Lower Italy. According to Mommsen, Plautius was from Campania. The handle and feet, on the contrary, are entirely Etruscan, and exhibit quite a different tendency. Though the name of the artist and the dedicatory inscription are placed upon the handle, they cannot relate to these castings, which are of quite ordinary manufacture, but rather to the engraving, Plautius having obtained the vessel ready-made in Rome, where he worked. The second of these works, nearly contemporary with the other, is a small head of Medusa, in high-relief, with the artist’s name upon it, C. Ovius, from the Tribus Aufentina. In this the two factors, Grecian and ancient Italian, which formerly stood side by side, appear to blend, and thus to perfect what must be designated as the specifically Roman style.

But at the close of the second Punic war, about 200 B.C., began the extensive importation of statues, first from the Grecian cities of Italy, afterwards from Greece proper. It has been related how Rome, in 150 B.C., became the central point of Grecian activity in art, and the seat of that renaissance which followed the past stages of Hellenic artistic development in reversed succession. As the Roman deities had become throughout almost identical with those of the Greeks, and as the statuary that ornamented the squares, streets, gardens, baths, fountains, houses, and villas were either Grecian spoil or copied from celebrated Hellenic originals, there remained for the peculiarly Roman art, as it had arisen from the combination of Etruscan and Hellenic elements, only a comparatively small field.

The Grecian stamp was given, so far as might be, even to those deities, such as Juno Lanuvina, who, on account of their decided individuality, could not be exchanged with those of the Greeks, nor with the gods borrowed from the Oriental mythology. This did not, indeed, flourish in the West until the late times of Hellenism, two centuries B.C., and appeared, for the most part, still later in Rome, as shown by the worship of Isis, and the frequent statues of that goddess (Fig. 296) and of Harpocrates, and by the Persian homage to Mithras, with its sacrifice of bulls. (Fig. 297.) It was the same with the uncommonly numerous Roman personifications and allegories, the individual type of which was, as a rule, quite commonplace and without expression, the intention of the artist being recognizable only by attributes. A draped female figure, such as the Flora or Pudicitia, might be a Concordia, Constantia, or Fides; a Pax, Libertas, or Securitas; a Virtus, Justitia, or Æquitas; a Salus, Pietas, or Annona—according to what was placed in the hand, upon the head, or at the feet; the age, garments, or position being rarely taken into consideration. With the male representations the difference in regard to nudity and manner of clothing (Figs. 298 and 299) was greater, and the interchange of related deities facilitated, as in the use of Hermes for Bonus Eventus. In personifications the character, garments, and attributes were doubtless more marked. To the most celebrated works of this kind belong the figures of the fourteen nations conquered by Pompey in the Porticus ad Nationes. These were executed by Coponius, the only distinguished sculptor certainly known with a Roman name. We may, perhaps, consider these as analogous to the Germania Devicta (Thusnelda) in Florence, but probably, after the manner of representations of Asiatic cities upon the base of Puteolani, they were more varied and less cold than the mere allegories of abstract ideas. Generally, in carrying out these conceptions, individuality of characterization in the figure or the action was not attempted, a certain common correctness, grace, and superficial beauty being held to suffice.

In portraiture, the Roman sculpture developed far more speciality and meaning. The early tendency of ancient Italian art towards the individual has already been described, and it may easily be understood that, in the line of portraiture, this had an important influence, even after Hellenic art had completely established itself upon the Tiber. In this province it best served its purpose. Still, it is evident that the vacant, external individualization peculiar to the primitive works of Etruria and Rome, such as the wax masks of their ancestors, required improvement by greater expression of life and character, for which Lysippos, in portrait-sculpture, had so decidedly opened the way. By the combination of these two elements, the portraits became the most successful works of Roman sculpture. The Hellenic tendency to idealize prevailed in those statues which presented the person heroically—as Achilles, for instance—or were rendered divine by attributes of Zeus, or Apollo, Juno, Ceres, Venus, and others. The figure was then usually nude, and was only so far imitated from life as to give to the head the true features, with a certain transfiguration. This treatment, exemplified in many of the statues of Antinous, had prevailed in Hellenic art since the time of Lysippos, the great master of portrait-sculpture. The native Italian tendency, on the contrary, had sway in the so-called “iconic” statues; in those, namely, in which the personal and human character was carried out. In these the clothing was given with more detail and significance; as, for example, in the figures of the emperors wearing the toga (statuÆ togatÆ), or the presidents of the senate. Others are represented as high-priests, with the drapery drawn over the back of the head; others (statuÆ thoracatÆ) as field-officers, in coats of mail, as, among many examples, in the celebrated Augustus of the Vatican, found, in 1863, before the Porta del Popolo. (Fig. 300.) In these the action generally chosen seems to have been that of address to the senate or to the army. Equestrian statues belonged chiefly to the thoracatÆ, though they appear also in conception like Achilles, nude, or clothed only with the himation. As they were all of bronze, few remain; so that the Marcus Aurelius upon the Capitoline, notwithstanding its hardness and other faults, is the most celebrated, and has become the standard for countless modern statues. The figures upon chariots, on the contrary, and especially those which ornamented the triumphal arches, were, for the most part, togatÆ. The mention of triumphal groups with six pairs of horses, or of elephants, shows to what extreme of tastelessness Roman art had become debased in the time of the emperors. The better works of this class are most suitably represented by the four bronze horses, falsely ascribed to Lysippos, which were brought by the Venetians from Constantinople in 1204, and which have been placed over the portal of St. Mark’s Church in Venice. Iconic female statues are distinguished by careful imitation of garments falling in rich folds, and, even in the early times, by exaggerated head-dresses, which gave them the appearance of fashion-plates. Noble ladies, sitting comfortably, and with dignity, in arm-chairs, are among the most successful of Roman works. Yet there is in all these portrait-statues, especially in the usual oratorical gestures, a typical character as little to be mistaken as is the softening influence of Hellenic idealism in most of the heads. Without injuring the individuality, it increases the beauty and heroic elevation of the entire figure. Not unfrequently, however, instead of inner significance, we find merely richness of drapery and detailed accessories, particularly in reliefs upon coats of mail, etc.

Fig. 301.—Equestrian Statue of Nonius Balbus, Jun. (Sculptor unknown.)
Fig. 301.—Equestrian Statue of Nonius Balbus, Jun. (Sculptor unknown.)

The same combination of native Italian tendency with Hellenic enlightenment, found in portrait-sculpture, is shown in the reliefs which thereby became specifically Roman. These appear to have been very numerous, as it pleased this people to leave few vacant surfaces upon their monuments, which were not only ornamented, but literally covered with reliefs and inscriptions. Thus sculpture became as much a written chronicle as a decoration. In limited spaces, such as pedestals and capitals, and the key-stones of arches, it became merely ornamental; the subjects of the ornamentation, in keeping with the style, being chiefly allegorical, such as Victories bearing trophies, the Seasons, etc. Upon large surfaces sculpture completely took the nature of chronicles and inscriptions, and thus were developed the truly Roman historical reliefs in connection with inscriptions.

These, in accordance with the Italian view of art in general, rested almost entirely upon a realistic foundation. Mythology disappeared, and allegory alone still exercised a small influence; as, for example, the Genius of Immortality bearing upward a deified emperor, Roma with the triumphal quadriga, Victory upon a shield perpetuating the memory of conquest; while personifications of cities or rivers, and even of swamps, indicated the locality of the action, or Jupiter Pluvius signified the coming of the saving rain. After the Antonines, the events are related with simple truth to nature, as a mere chronicle, without any idealization at all. The subjects of Roman reliefs are distinguished from the Grecian only by the Greeks having substituted, whenever possible, mythological for human or common events; and there was no less difference in the artistic treatment. The Greek never lost sight of that conventional law in sculptural reliefs by which the figures are conceived in a situation to give the most pleasing outline. The whole procession of persons, one behind the other, excluding all effect of foreshortening and perspective, was displayed upon a surface, and developed, so far as the figure would permit, in harmonious unity, and, whether represented sitting on horseback, or on foot, occupying the same space in regard to height and in regard to the depth of relief. It resulted that the design was arranged in reference to two planes only—the original surface of the stone, which disappeared with the work (except in the highest points), and the common background. Roman sculpture, on the other hand, freed itself from all such laws of style. The profile position no longer predominated, and the figures in the mutilated remnants, where the details are lost, appear like formless masses, which, in the Hellenic system, would have been impossible. The outline loses its significance, and the figures are arranged with such disregard of the surface upon which they are placed that they rather resemble portions of statues. The projection from the background also varies, many parts, particularly the head and arms, standing entirely disengaged. In the arrangement of several figures, one behind another, against a landscape or architectural background, an attempt was made to distinguish the forms in front from those behind by higher or lower relief, with something of the effect of perspective. (Fig. 302.) From this ensued a confusion of lines and a want of clearness, atmospheric effect not assisting in sculpture, as in painting, to separate the farther object from the nearer, and thus to define the distance. This crowding was still more objectionable when, besides being grouped one behind another, the figures were placed one over another, representing the scene as if from a bird’s-eye view.

It thus happened that Roman sculpture in relief was characterized rather by a realistic and picturesque tendency than by well-conventionalized composition. But the forms remained Hellenic, at least so far as the circumstances represented in Grecian examples would permit. When, however, a river was to be represented, for which the Greeks always placed a local deity as symbol, or when the besieging of towns, castles, or bridges was given, the Romans approached more nearly to the conception of Oriental nations. As the subject was of more importance than the composition, the deed than the artistic illustration, a certain common and formal correctness sufficed—an artistic handwriting, so to speak, which might be easily read. Their work might be termed an unconscious translation from the Assyrian or Egyptian into the Roman language.

Fig. 302.—Relief from the Arch of Titus in Rome.
Fig. 302.—Relief from the Arch of Titus in Rome.

It does not appear that the sculpture of historical reliefs was developed much before the time of the Empire; at least, not more of these remain than of the Roman portrait-statues that can be imputed to a more remote period. Historic sculpture was best exhibited in triumphal monuments. To this class belong the two world-renowned columns of Trajan and of Marcus Aurelius. With more than five thousand figures and over two hundred scenes, they are among the most magnificent sculptural representations of all times. Upon these ascending spiral reliefs are unrolled the chronicles of the Dacian and Marcomannic wars. The main events are recognizable throughout, and the barbaric tribes may be distinguished by their costumes, arms, and physiognomy; so that if written history were wanting, the reliefs upon Trajan’s Column would be an important source of information in regard to the biography of this emperor and Roman imperial history. Vigorous in treatment and skilful in drawing as it must be admitted that they are, still their artistic value, from want of style in composition, is very small.

Fig. 303.—Relief of Trajan, from the Arch of Constantine in Rome.
Fig. 303.—Relief of Trajan, from the Arch of Constantine in Rome.

The oblong tablets of relief upon the triumphal arches occupy a somewhat more favorable position, because the frame led to a more formal, and the duplication to a more harmonious, composition. The reliefs upon the Arch of Titus, particularly those on the sides of the two large passages, notwithstanding the ignorance which they betray, are of far higher importance in art; and the same may be said of the reliefs upon the monuments of Hadrian and Trajan. (Fig. 303.) How far the graces of form and order, inherited from the Greeks and hitherto prevalent, had disappeared even in the time of the Antonines, and given place to a formal and vacant hardness, is shown by the relief upon the pedestal of the lost statue of Antoninus Pius. (Fig. 304.) This represents the apotheosis of Antoninus and Faustina, who appear seated upon the back of a stiff, floating Genius of Immortality, in the weakest of compositions, while cold and all-controlling Allegory places by the side of Roma a personification of the Campus Martius, recognizable by the attribute of the obelisk which was erected there by Augustus.

Fig. 304.—Relief upon the Pedestal of the Column of Antoninus Pius.
Fig. 304.—Relief upon the Pedestal of the Column of Antoninus Pius.

Roman sculpture reached its highest point under Hadrian. This emperor filled all spaces with sculpture, as Trajan covered them with inscriptions commemorating his restorations, acquiring thus, in later times, the nickname of the “Lichen.” Even the golden house of Nero was, in this respect, surpassed by the Villa of Hadrian at Tibur, where it pleased him to reproduce all the wonderful works of architecture and of sculpture which he had noticed in his extended travels through the Roman world. After the death of Hadrian, however, who, as an enthusiastic admirer of Greek art, naturally directed the artistic industry of his time to the best possible reproductions of the highest products of Hellenic art, the Romans began to follow the works of the later ages. The lower they placed their aim, and the farther they were removed from the original source of inspiration the more rapid was their decline.

Ideal art degenerated into increasing formalism, carelessness, weakness of sentiment, and shallowness, though still retaining much that was good, because the originals, though copied and recopied, still dated back to the best periods. Portraiture naturally retained more independence; but this also would have been stifled by the enormous requirements, even if the declining art had possessed fresh vigor. To understand this excessive demand, it is only necessary to bear in mind the rapid succession of emperors after Antoninus, with the consequent changing of imperial statues in all the cities of the Roman empire. With the Antonines expired the ideal element in sculptural portraits; and prosaic realism, as it had existed in ancient Italian art, obtained exclusive mastery. Anxious struggles after external likeness in small and inartistic details, like wrinkles, and abnormities such as the curly and frizzled hair of the Antonines, and of L. Verus, with locks like porous pumice-stone, took the place of the lost ideal—remarkable examples, which failed to preserve the lifelike expression. Within a century art had altogether lost the capacity for characterization, even in portraiture; and the numerous busts of the later empire can hardly be distinguished one from another. They are mostly portraits of emperors, empresses, and princes, whose heads are stiffened and hardened into a common type. Previously, with a change of the sovereign, they had altered the heads of the Achilleic and iconic imperial statues; but it now sufficed merely to vary the inscription, and, at most, the accessories. But it was not difficult to change the face also, since it pleased them, in making busts, to combine marbles of different hues, so as to realize the local colors. Thus the mask was of simple white, the hair of dark marble, the garments of red, green, and gray marble or granite, and even the band for the forehead and the clasp for the toga were of a suitable hue. In the heads of ladies this disagreeable polychromy had the advantage that, upon the portrait of the same sovereign, not only the mask, but the wig, could be altered, which, according to the fashion of the day, might be blond, red, or dark, with any desired mode of dressing the hair.

Carving in relief, after the Antonines, suffered a similar decline. The sculptures upon the Column of Marcus Aurelius, in comparison with those of Trajan’s Column, notwithstanding their unmistakable dependence upon the older example, show the want of energy, of appreciation of form, of variety, and of technical ability which characterizes the loss of creative power, and the mere reproduction of models. The reliefs of the Arch of Marcus Aurelius, once upon the Corso at Rome, now in the palace of the Capitol, betray the same vacuity of expression and hardness of form, in comparison with the illustrations from the life of Trajan upon the Arch of Constantine; even when compared with the sculptures upon the pedestal of the Column of Antoninus Pius, a decline is visible from the time of the older to the younger Antoninus. But even these are superior to the reliefs upon the Arch of Septimius Severus, erected in 201 B.C., which, in the main parts, have a fourfold division, in order to gain space for the utmost possible number of representations. From the nature of the design, the spiral reliefs upon the columns of Trajan and of Marcus Aurelius exhibited such parallel rows, one above another; but here the same method is employed upon a plane surface, although it crowds the subject to such an extent that the figures become insignificant and, at a little distance, indistinct. In these four lines are given scenes of war, not, apparently, so much to celebrate combat and victory in general as to register especial facts, battles fought with various weapons, sieges, capitulations, and the transport of booty. Though many of the details were vigorous, the forms in general tolerably correct, and the technical ability considerable, yet the composition appears barbaric, the grouping awkward, and the filling of the given space, the composition, and the artistic construction altogether unfortunate.

After Septimius Severus, statuesque art degenerated into mere stone-cutting; the portraits are unrecognizable, the reliefs without expression or effect, except, as in Egyptian art, from the number of figures and accessories. In religious sculptures, finally reduced to bungling artisan work, the last spark of Hellenic tradition died out in continued weak copies. In historical reliefs the impulse to create perished with the artistic ability. When large monumental constructions were required, the material was frequently drawn from the works of former emperors; and even in triumphal memorials, like the Arch of Constantine, there was no hesitation in inserting reliefs unmistakably celebrating the deeds of Trajan, or installing statues connected with his conquests upon the Danube, the builders contenting themselves with filling out what was lacking, as in the case of the Victories upon the pedestals of the columns (Fig. 305), and the narrow frieze of reliefs over the side passages. The figures err greatly in proportions: dumpy, formless, and awkward, appearing incapable of motion, they already exemplify that perfect rigidity which, in the following centuries, was to hold sculpture in bondage. Even where the nature of the representations permitted the influence of the old models, the decline of technical ability is striking, as may be seen by comparing these figures with the Victories upon the pedestals of the Arch of Septimius Severus, which, though superficial, are not without a certain style. The folds, for example, look like the holes and lines of the wood-worm; they are simple stripes cut into the garment, without movement or purpose, hard, rough, and hasty, as is the entire treatment.

If in Roman art the province of architecture is the most important, and that of sculpture the most richly represented, that of painting is the most charming. In this, as in sculpture, the decorative character predominated. Traces of that monumental art which creates for itself, and for its own sake, are found only in works of the earlier time, and even then in few and isolated instances. Even more than sculpture, painting appears dependent and imitative, vacillating in the first five centuries between the influence of ancient Italy and of Greece; later, in close subjection to the latter, as developed in the Hellenistic period after Alexander.

The earliest notice of monumental painting in Rome relates to the decoration of the temples of Ceres, Liber, and Libera by the Greek artists of Lower Italy, Gorgasos and Damophilos, in 493 B.C., of which mention has already been made. Although they made use of four colors, their method was that of the time before Polygnotos, and their work was little distinguished from the older painting upon vases, such as those of Ergotimos and Clitias in Florence, the surfaces within the outlines being treated in color, without gradation of light or shade. It may therefore be concluded that, in the two chief temples of the last period of the kings, colored ornament, whether upon the plaster itself, or upon a revetment of terra-cotta slabs, as in the tomb at CÆre (Fig. 262), was as little wanting as in the temples and tombs of Etruria. It may be judged that in Rome this was specifically Etruscan, since Pliny refers to the ornamentation of the Temple of Ceres only because in this Grecian artists first appear to have taken part, while before “everything in the Roman temple had been Etruscan.” Much as we may be inclined to regard the primitive art of Etruria as dependent upon that of Greece, the difference must have been considerable; and the Grecian wall-paintings in the Temple of Ceres must have been held in great estimation, since, according to Pliny, they were protected when the temple was restored, being removed from the walls with great care, framed upon tablets, and replaced.

It can scarcely be doubted that these wall-paintings opened the way to Hellenic influence, although a guild of Etruscan artists for a long time worked by the side of the Greeks in Rome, for purposes of ordinary decoration. If, according to Pliny, “art came early to be honored in Rome,” and even patricians did not hesitate to devote themselves to it, it would seem that this must have been brought about through Grecian methods. Fabius Pictor, whose wall-paintings, according to Dionysios of Halicarnassos, were carefully drawn, of a fresh, agreeable color, and composed in a grand historical style, acquired his sobriquet and his great fame by his paintings in the Temple of Salus, executed in the year 304 B.C. His rank in regard to drawing may be exemplified by the wonderful sgraffiti of the Cista of Novius Plautius in Rome, although the latter, having flourished half a century later, may take a somewhat higher rank. The paintings of the tragic poet Pacuvius, from 220 to 130 B.C., were still more advanced. Among these a picture, probably upon a panel, in the Temple of Hercules in the Forum Boarium, was very celebrated; and it may be assumed that, in order to obtain renown, the artist adopted with success the technical refinements of the period of the Diadochi. The aged artist, before his death, must have witnessed the extensive robberies which brought to the metropolis, besides the sculptural works, the most distinguished pictures of Greece, it having happened in his prime that the Athenian painter and philosopher Metrodoros was called to Rome by Æmilius Paulus—as a philosopher to educate his children, and as an artist to illustrate his triumphs. Metrodoros, who, in his artistic and scholarly versatility, had written a book upon architecture, gave assistance even in the construction of triumphal arches. Still, Æmilius Paulus may well have wished to glorify his deeds by historical paintings, as had been customary with the conquerors for a century. In 293 B.C., M. Valerius Maximus Messala had placed a battle-scene in the Curia Hostilia, illustrating his victory over the Carthaginians and Hiero of Syracuse—an example which was followed by L. Scipio, in 190 B.C., with a representation of his success at Magnesia over Antiochus of Syria. These, however, must be regarded less as works of art than as realistic delineations of the events, analogous to the Roman historical reliefs in the time of the Empire; at least, great importance was given to details in the picture representing the Conquest of Carthage which L. Hostilius Mancinus, in 146 B.C., exhibited upon the Forum and explained to the people, and which especially showed the Roman preparations for a siege. Such works, the background of which was probably treated more or less as a landscape, like the topographical representations of earlier antiquity, must have been similar in conception and composition to the Assyrian reliefs that represent battles and sieges, and to the pictures of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries of the Christian era.

In the notices of these panel-paintings there are no names of artists to assist in their classification; but it may be concluded that Metrodoros was encouraged in this work, and Serapion, in 100 B.C., really distinguished himself in such historical scenes. The artists of importance in the last century of the republic, like Sopolis, Dionysios, and their pupil Antiochus Gabinius, found themselves forced into portraiture; the specialty of Iaia, or Laia, of Kyzicos was the painting of women upon ivory, and Arellius portrayed his mistresses as goddesses. But in the beginning of the empire, tablet-painting seems to have been entirely abandoned, being supplanted by a new decorative tendency which again, in quite an unmonumental manner, led back to mural painting.

Fig. 306.—Wall-painting, from the Aurea Domus of Nero.
Fig. 306.—Wall-painting, from the Aurea Domus of Nero.

It is clear from the term “Pinacotheca,” applied to certain halls in the city palaces, that the eagerness for collecting among the Roman emperors and nobles extended as well to the paintings of Greece as to the statues. In sculpture copies were substituted when originals were wanting, but this seems to have been rarely the case with panel-paintings. As the statues were employed for decoration, originality in these was not so important; but with paintings preserved in cabinets, genuineness was more imperative. Painting upon panels, however, became less frequent when pictures came to be imitated upon the wall itself and brought into harmony with the remainder of the mural ornamentation, as, according to Helbig, was customary, particularly in Alexandria, even in the time of the Diadochi. This is shown, not only by the new discoveries among the buildings of Tiberius upon the Palatine, but also in the frescos of those subterranean baths of Titus which may be regarded as part of the ruins of the Golden House of Nero. (Fig. 306.) Ornaments, garlands, and architectural designs divide the walls into many spaces, within which groups or single figures (Fig. 307), often dancing or floating, are placed directly against a ground of intense color, sometimes black—the paintings of Campania showing unsurpassed lightness and charm in the lines. (Fig. 308.)

Sometimes they are ornamented with imitations of framed panel-pictures, mostly containing mythological groups, and scenes in small genre. To these was generally given a background of landscape, so that the figures represented were little more than picturesque accessories; and this custom seems to have led, perhaps even in the Hellenistic period, to true landscape-painting. (Fig. 309.) According to Pliny, Ludius, or Studius, introduced this style in the time of Augustus, of which, besides those of Campania, the frieze decorations of the newly discovered house of Tiberius upon the Palatine give the best representations, and form an illustrated commentary upon the descriptions of the works of Ludius. These are characterized as showing “villas and halls, artificial gardens, hedges, woods, hills, water-basins, tombs, rivers, shores, in as great a variety as could be desired;” besides “figures sitting at ease, mariners, and those who, riding upon donkeys or in wagons, look after their farms; fishermen, snarers of birds, hunters, and vine-dressers; also swampy passages before beautiful villas, and women borne by men who stagger under the burden, and other witty things of this nature; finally, views of seaports, everything charming and suitable;” that is to say, of a certain facility and shallowness. The aim was to give an open and cheerful effect, and this could be attained without correct and naturalistic method or unity of idea; on the contrary a fantastic unreality, and even impossibility, was its chief charm, like the painting upon Japanese lacquered wares.

Fig. 308.—Wall-painting from Herculaneum.
Fig. 308.—Wall-painting from Herculaneum.

Fig. 309.—Landscape-painting from Pompeii.
Fig. 309.—Landscape-painting from Pompeii.

The case was similar with architectural ornamentation, another branch of Roman decorative painting, generally known under the name of the Pompeian style. (Fig. 310.) Even in the time of Augustus, Vitruvius complains of a blind seeking after scenic effect, which, in disdain of all constructive laws, and in a manner quite impossible, piled heavy gables and upper stories upon reed-like columns of no supporting power. His blame, however, seems unjustifiable. That architectural painting which aims at illusion should be condemned as worthless; but this is not the case with that which, after the analogy of conventional landscape-painting, renounces all semblance of reality and assiduously avoids all illusion. Spaces may be apparently extended by an architectural painting which, not deceptively, but poetically, opens the narrow walls of small rooms, and carries the eye dreamily through a wide perspective. Hence the fresh and by no means realistic colors, which, tapestry-like, are not intended to deceive, but to ornament and please. They bear witness to the deep feeling for polychromy, inherited from Hellenic, or at least Hellenistic, predecessors, which was characteristic of the Romans even after their decline. What delight must there have been in a work so extended, and yet free from all slavish copying! Not only Amulius, who, by compulsion, painted the Golden House of Nero, and was celebrated by Pliny for his valuable and finely colored pictures, but countless other artists were everywhere busily employed in covering the walls with paintings and ornaments—a work now intrusted to common decorators. In the time of Nero the activity in ornamental painting, judged by the discoveries among the ruined cities of Campania, must have been greater than has ever been known at any other period.

Fig. 310.—Wall-painting of Decorative Architecture, Pompeii.
Fig. 310.—Wall-painting of Decorative Architecture, Pompeii.

In the consideration of Hellenic painting, mention has been made of the origin of floor-decorations in mosaic by Sosos at the royal court of Pergamon. By this is only meant mosaic painting with illusory effects, as practised by him; imitations of tapestry patterns and merely ornamental mosaic-work must have been older. His drinking-doves in the “unswept hall” appear to have continued a favorite subject, judging from three well-known imitations; one of which, found upon the Aventine, now in the Museum of the Lateran, bears the inscription of the artist Heraclitos. Though the names of other workers in mosaic are known, they as little deserve mention here as do the numerous vase-painters, their mosaic being almost wholly a technical process; its very laboriousness rendered a truly artistic activity almost impossible. Unfortunately, no name is attached to the most important work of this kind, over four meters long and two wide, apparently representing an Alexandrian battle-scene. This is also the best-preserved historical painting of antiquity, but it is related rather to the Grecian types than to the Roman battle-pieces above mentioned. The greater part of the well-known mosaics, being from Herculaneum and Pompeii, may be referred to the time of Nero; but those of PrÆneste with the Egyptianized conventional landscapes may date back to the time of Sulla, while the extensive example with figures of athletes from the Baths of Caracalla—now in the Lateran—belongs to the time of that emperor. Many others, however, especially those discovered in the distant provinces, are of later times. Vigorous as are some of the representations of landscapes and of animals among them, it is not to be denied that, as Semper says, mosaic oversteps its boundary in going beyond the patterns of woven tapestry, and trying to make us forget that it is outstretched like a level floor upon which we would walk without hindrance.

“It would be difficult, connectedly, to pursue the history of ancient painting later than the eruption of Vesuvius, which, in the year 79 A.D., by a wonderful fortune, preserved for the later world the artistic treasures of three cities of Campania—Herculaneum, Pompeii, and StabiÆ—and, at the same time, cost the life of Pliny, whom we have to thank for the greatest completeness of written description.” Thus Brunn rightly concludes his “History of the Grecian Painters,” for the works of succeeding generations, even when names of artists are attached, do not deserve to be called art, being nothing more than hasty and crude decorations; such, for example, are the servants’ rooms in the Vigna Nussiner, upon the southern slope of the Palatine, which, in recent times, have acquired some celebrity by the careless scratches of the slaves found upon their walls. The most important illustrations that have been preserved of the shallowness and roughness of this lingering art are in the tombs; and with these in painting, with the basilica in architecture, and the sarcophagi in sculpture, the boundaries of the antique and of the Christian era flow into each other, and are scarcely distinguishable. When Christianity arose from the sepulchre, it allied itself in monumental art to that stage of debasement which painting had reached in the heathen and the Christian catacombs of the fourth century; indeed, art continued still to decline through ages, until the Northern races and the life of the common people breathed into it the spirit of a new life.