Pagan and Christian Rome. Rodolfo Amedeo Lanciani

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

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

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

      "Clamosus and Successa, one hundred feet.

      "Felicissimus and his relatives, one hundred feet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

      THE TRANSLATION OF S. CYRIL'S REMAINS

      (Fresco in S. Clemente, done at the order of Maria Macellaria)

      But I am digressing from my subject. Another step of the religious and material transformation of the city is marked by the substitution of chapels and shrines for the old aræ compitales, at the crossings of the main thoroughfares. The institution of altars in honor of the Lares, or guardian genii of each ward or quarter, is ancient, and can be traced to prehistoric times. When Servius Tullius enclosed the city with his walls, there were twenty-four such altars, called sacraria Argeorum. Two facts speak in favor of their remote antiquity. The priestess of Jupiter was not allowed to sacrifice on them, unless in a savage attire, with hair unkempt and untrimmed. On the 17th of May, the Vestals used to throw into the Tiber, from the Sublician bridge, manikins of wickerwork, in commemoration of the human sacrifices once performed on the same altars.

      When Augustus reorganized the capital and its wards, in the year 7 b. c., the number of street-shrines had grown to more than two hundred. Two hundred and sixty-five were registered, a. d. 73, in the census of Vespasian; three hundred and twenty-four at the time of Constantine. A man of much leisure, and evidently of no occupation, the cavaliere Alessandro Rufini, numbered and described the shrines and images which lined the streets of Rome in the year 1853. As modern civilization and indifference will soon obliterate this historical feature of the city, I quote some results of Rufini's investigations.24 There were 1,421 images of the Madonna, 1,318 images of saints, ornamented with 1,928 precious objects, and 110 ex-votos; 1,067 lamps were kept burning day and night before them,—a most useful institution in a city whose streets have not been regularly lighted until recent years.

      The Shrine and Altar of Mercurius Sobrius.

      As prototypes of a classical and Christian street-shrine, respectively, we may take the ædicula compitalis of Mercurius Sobrius, discovered in April, 1888, near S. Martino ai Monti, and the immagine di Ponte, at the corner of the Via dei Coronari and the Vicolo del Micio. The shrine of Mercury near S. Martino was dedicated by Augustus, in the year 10 b. c. The inscription engraved on the front of the altar says: "The emperor Augustus dedicated this shrine to Mercury in the year of the City, 744, from money received as a new-year's gift, during his absence from Rome."

      Suetonius (Chapter 57) says that every year, on January 1, all classes of citizens climbed the Capitol and offered strenæ calendariæ to Augustus, when he was absent; and that the emperor, with his usual generosity, appropriated the money to the purchase of pretiosissima deorum simulacra, "the most valuable statues of gods," to be set up at the crossings of thoroughfares. Four pedestals of these statues have already been found: one near the Arch of Titus, at the beginning of the sixteenth century; one, in 1548, near the Senate House; one, in the same year, by the Arch of Septimius

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