by Unknown
44 Lothar Haselberger, “The Pantheon: Nagging Questions to No End,” in Grasshoff, Heinzelmann, and Wäfler 2009, pp. 171–186. In this article, he includes most but not all of the arguments presented at Bern and covered in the preceding note. I stand corrected in stating that as regards the double pediment, “no ancient building copies this arrangement.” The Temple of Zeus Asklepios in Pergamon, built during the 120s–130s AD on the model of the Pantheon, did adopt a comparable solution, albeit better resolved; see O. Ziegenaus, Das Asklepieion, Altertümer von Pergamon XI,3, Berlin 1981, Taf. 85.
45 Taylor 2003, pp. 129–131, and 2004, esp. pp. 244–251. Taylor’s portico implies a floor level lower than that of the existing portico. Yet the top of the concrete strip foundations lies above the bottom of his hypothetical column bases, rendering them improbable; see Beltrami 1898, Fig. xi.
46 Peña 1989.
47 Wilson Jones 2000, pp. 206–207; cf. Lothar Haselberger, “Ein Giebelriss der Vorhalle des Pantheon. Die Werkrisse vor dem Augustusmausoleum,” Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung 101, 1994, pp. 279–308. Although less likely, it is possible that this design was for the Temple of Trajan or the Temple of Venus and Rome, both of which had 50-foot shafts (the former monolithic, the latter not). Cf. Carlo Inglese, Progetti sulla pietra: Strumenti del Dottorato di Ricerca in Rilievo e Rappresentazione dell’Architettura e dell’Ambiente, vol. 3, Rome 2000, pp. 47–50. It should be noted, however, that an Augustan date for the paving and drawing is hypothetically possible.
48 Stefania Fogagnolo, “Scoperta di frammenti di colonne colossali dal foro della pace,” in I marmi colorati della Roma imperiale, ed. Marilda De Nuccio and Lucrezia Ungaro, Rome 2002, pp. 136–137; La Rocca 2004, p. 209, n.56.
49 For a list of 50 footers, see Peña 1989, p. 130. For the Temple of Trajan, see James Packer, The Forum of Trajan in Rome: A Study of the Monuments, Berkeley 1997, p. 457 ff. See also R. Meneghini, “Il foro Traiano. Ricostruzione architettonica e analisi strutturale,” Römische Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung 108, 2001, pp. 245–268; and see La Rocca 2004, pp. 208–212, for the theory that the shafts belonged instead to a monumental gateway, countered by Claridge 2007, with further detail on the shafts on pp. 63–66. For the Antonine Column, see J. B. Ward-Perkins, Marble Antiquity: Collected Papers of J. B. Ward Perkins, ed. H. Dodge and J. B. Ward-Perkins, Rome 1992. For the shafts of Trajan’s Baths, see La Rocca 2004, pp. 209–210, Fig. 10, with further references. I have not myself located on site anything bigger than pieces commensurate with 40 footers; however, Rita Volpe has measured fragments she judges consistent with 50 footers, while Simone Gianolio in his forthcoming doctoral thesis uses evidence from standing walls to deduce their presence.
50 On standardization in the service of the Roman “building machine,” see Wilson Jones 2000, p. 155.
51 This drawing is based on those of Leclère and Colini, supplemented by my measurements of the plan, and aspects of the main order that I was able to check from openings in the staircase. The trusses were reconstructed on the basis of Borromini’s survey and sixteenth-century drawings. Further features were observed and photographed from nearby scaffolding in November 2010.
52 The 10-foot width of the foundations relates to the 5-foot column diameter as 2:1. By contrast, Vitruvius recommends a ratio of around 3:2 (1.5:1), a value more or less consistent with monumental imperial practice. The substructures under monumental colonnades typically project approximately in line with the plinths of the columns, implying a thickness about 1.4 times the column diameter. A ratio in the range of 1.4–1.5 recurs at the temples of Castor, of Vespasian, and of Antoninus and Faustina, as well as on the foundation blocks of travertine and peperino supporting colonnades in the Forum of Trajan. For a generic illustration of a concrete foundation only slightly wider than the plinths of the columns it supports, see Giuliani 1990, Fig. 5.3. In the intended portico, the ratio of foundations to column diameter would have been 1.6:1 (10:6¼), that is to say, still on the safe side.
53 The set-back could also have been intended to seat elements of the roof construction, as Gene Waddell has drawn to my attention.
54 For this drawing of Borromini, see Heinrich Thelen, Francesco Borromini. Die Handzeichnungen, vol. 1, Graz, 1967, cat. no. 25, pp. 32–33 (there is also a second drawing, cat. no. 26); Licht 1968, pp. 50–58; Louise Rice, “Urbano VIII e il dilemma del portico del Pantheon,” Bollettino d’arte 143, 2008, pp. 93–110; Rice, “Bernini and the Pantheon Bronze,” in Sankt Peter in Rom 1506–2006, ed. Georg Satzinger and Sebastian Schütze, Munich 2008, pp. 337–352.
55 Rice 2008a (“Urbano VIII”), pp. 95–96. As Rice discusses, the unusual cross-section of the trusses over the central aisle made space for the semicircular barrel-vaulted ceiling that was in all likelihood suspended from the trusses. This need arose, she argues, due to the revisions to the portico as a whole. The substitution of smaller columns dictated vaults that were 5/4 ft wider and 5/8 ft taller. Meanwhile, the usable height was significantly reduced, since in the revised design, the entablature – and hence the roof space – would have been about 3 ft shorter than the original. In effect, then, more than a meter was subtracted from the height that would otherwise have been available for the vaulting.
56 Rice 2008a, pp. 95–96. This is curious given the semicircular profile of the projecting ledge, over a foot deep, formed by the relieving arches placed at the right height to accept a barrel vault, save that the trusses impeded such a solution (Fig. 7.13, G), hence, the probable implementation of a flat ceiling. I was able to observe this detail thanks to scaffolding and a tour of operations conducted by Giovanni Belardi. The extra meter or so available in the original design could have accommodated a fully semicircular form, though this would have been at a higher level; see Fig. 7.13.
57 The stone blocks projecting from the upper part of the transitional block may have facilitated constructional operations, but there is also the possibility that they were intended to provide some kind of connection with the trusses of the abandoned project (Fig. 7.13, B and C).
58 I have no particular opinion on the three rough blocks immediately above the architrave that runs on top of the capitals, though they may have participated in anchoring the bronze assembly associated with the ceiling of the side aisles.
59 As regards the original project, it is also impossible to know how the transitional block should have looked. It could have terminated more or less as it does today, or it could have been capped by a continuation of the (higher) portico roof; see Davies, Hemsoll, and Wilson Jones 1987, Figs. 7 and 8.
60 On brickstamps and their interpretation, see Heinrich Dressel, Inscriptiones urbis Romae latinae, Berlin 1891; Bloch 1947; E. M. Steinby, “La cronologia delle figliane doliare urbane dalla fine dell’età repubblicana fino all’inizio del III sec.,” Bullettino di archeologia cristiana 84, 1977, pp. 7–113; T. Helen, Organisation of Roman Brick Production in the First and Second Century AD, Helsinki 1975; Janet DeLaine, “Building Activity in Ostia in the Second Century AD,” Acta Instituti Romani Finlandiae 26, 2002, pp. 41–102, and Chapter Three in the present volume. I am grateful to John Bodel for expert guidance on the finer points involved.
61 A typical lag of a few months twixt production and use would be understandable, in part because stamps were imprinted in wet clay, which had to dry before firing, in part for any flaws that might develop to make themselves evident. At times, bricks may have been rushed to market, or they may have been set aside for later use. Note divergent views on this and the implications for Trajan’s Markets, where Domitianic brickstamps may indicate a Domitianic inception (E. Bianchi, “I bolli laterizi dei Mercati Traiani,” Bullettino di archeologia cristiana 104, 2003, pp. 329–352), or as stockpiled supplies consistent with a Trajanic date (J. C. Anderson, Jr., “The Date of the Thermae Traiani and the Topography of the Oppius Mons,” American Journal of Archaeology 89, 1985, pp. 499–509; Lynne Lancaster, “T
he Date of Trajan’s Markets: An Assessment in Light of Some Unpublished Brick Stamps,” Papers of the British School at Rome 63, 1995, pp. 25–44).
62 Guey 1936; Bloch 1947, pp. 14–19, 102–117, esp. 112. Cf. MacDonald 1982, p. 96; Licht 1968, pp. 180–190, esp. 186–187. A few Severan stamps result from repairs of that period.
63 Guey 1936, esp. p. 233; Bloch 1947, esp. p. 112, who quoted Guey’s expression for their distribution: “un peu partout dans la bâtisse.”
64 Wolf-Dieter Heilmeyer, “Apollodorus von Damaskus – der Architekt des Pantheon,” Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 90, 1975, pp. 316–347. Cf. Haselberger 1994, pp. 296–298.
65 Bloch 1947, p. 114.
66 “... da me letto il giorno 25 aprile su d’una scaglia di mattone, cavata dal tasto fatto presso lo spigolo N-E. della fronte laterizia, dietro il pilastro marmoreo del portico” (Rodolfo Lanciani, Pagan and Christian Rome, Boston 1892, p. 153, cited by Bloch 1947, p. 107). The incomplete text of this stamp may match a frequently attested brickstamp (CIL 549a-d) of the year 123, but in any case the letters PAETI point to the consul Paetinus and, hence, the same date.
67 Bloch (1947, p. 114) judged the stamp to have belonged not to a bipedalis embedded into the structure but one of the semilateres of the lining.
68 Bloch 1947, p. 117. Cf. Licht 1968, p. 186; William L. MacDonald and John Pinto, Hadrian’s Villa and Its Legacy, New Haven 1995, pp. 17–19; Anthony R. Birley, Hadrian: The Restless Emperor, London 1997; Wilson Jones 2000, pp. 177, 210–211.
69 Peña 1989.
70 A date of 119/120 also seems too early for the Temple of Trajan, presuming its design not to have begun before his death in the summer of 117.
71 For recent affirmation of Hadrian acting in effect as an architect, see E. Salza Prina Ricotti, Villa Adriano: il sogno di un imperatore, Rome 2001, pp. 19–25. For collected opinion and a more critical appraisal, see Chapter Three in this volume.
72 Scriptores Historiae Augustae, S.H.A. Hadrian 19.2–13; Procopius of Caesarea, On Buildings, 4.6.12–13. See also MacDonald 1982, p. 130. On the career of Apollodorus, see C. Leon, Apollodorus von Damaskus und die trajanische Architektur, Innsbruck 1961; MacDonald 1982, pp. 129–134; La Regina 1999; Wilson Jones 2000, pp. 21–24; F. Festa Farina, G. Calcani, C. Meucci, and M. Conforto, eds., Tra Damasco e Roma: l’architettura di Apollodoro nella cultura classica, Rome 2001.
73 See Wolf-Dieter Heilmeyer, “Korinthische Normalkapitelle: Studien zur Geschichte der römischen Architekturdekoration,” Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung, Supplement 16, 1970, pp. 158–161, on the capitals. Following a hint by Bloch (1947, p. 116), the attribution of the Pantheon was argued in depth by Heilmeyer (1975). For amplification, see Wilson Jones 2000, pp. 192–193; Viscogliosi 2001, pp. 158–159; Heene 2004; Wilson Jones, “Who Built the Pantheon? Agrippa, Apollodorus, Hadrian and Trajan,” Hadrian: Art, Politics and Economy, ed. Thorsten Opper, British Museum Research Publications 175, London 2013, pp. 31–49.
74 Wilson Jones 2000, p. 192. Cf. Kjeld de Fine Licht, Untersuchungen an den Trajansthermen zu Rom, Copenhagen 1974.
75 Piers from the bridge are to be found at Turnu-Severin in Romania. See A. Barcacila, “Les piliers du pont Trajan sur la rive gauche du Danube et la scène CI de Colonne Trajan,” Studi su Cercetari de Istorie Veche 17, 1966, pp. 645–663; Colin O’Connor, Roman Bridges, Cambridge 1993, pp. 142–145; J. Coulston, “Transport and Travel on Trajan’s Column,” in Travel and Geography in the Roman Empire, ed. C. Adams and R. Laurence, London 2001, pp. 106–137, esp. 124–125.
76 By referring his readers to Apollodorus’s treatise, Procopius kept brief his own mention (De Aedificiis, 4.6.11–16). For a fuller account see Dio Cassius, 68.13.1–6.
77 Dio Cassius, 69.4. For the passage in full, see MacDonald 1965, pp. 131–132; Wilson Jones 2000, pp. 23–24.
78 F. E. Brown, “Hadrianic Architecture,” Essays in Memory of Karl Lehmann, ed. L. F. Sandler, New York 1964, pp. 55–58; MacDonald 1982, p. 135.
79 Wilson Jones 2000, pp. 192–193, 212–213; Wilson Jones 2013.
Eight The Pantheon in the Middle Ages
Erik Thunø
What happened to the Pantheon as a building during the passage of time between its Hadrianic dedication and its appropriation by the Church almost half a millennium later? The relevant facts are scarce, but there can be little doubt that the building was maintained as well as admired in the first centuries after its construction. Supporting this assumption is an inscription on the front architrave of the portico recording that the Rotunda was restored in AD 202.1 In the first half of the third century, the Christian historian Iulius Africanus (c. 160–c. 240) reports the establishment of a library in or near the Pantheon, which may suggest a change in the use of the building.2 In 357, the Pantheon was still in good enough condition to impress the emperor Constantius II during his visit to Rome from Constantinople. At the end of the fourth century, the Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus (c. 330–c. 400) wrote that the emperor had been amazed at Rome’s buildings, including the Pantheon, which was “like a rounded city-district, vaulted over in lofty beauty.”3 By this time, Rome was changing into a Christian city in the wake of emperor Constantine the Great’s legitimization of Christianity in 313. At Constantine’s behest and with his sponsorship, the city received a cathedral, the Lateran Church, and the great basilica of St. Peter was rising over the body of the apostle outside the walls of the Eternal City, to be followed by an almost equally impressive basilica dedicated to St. Paul. Meanwhile, in 330, Constantine shifted the empire’s capital to Constantinople.4
It is uncertain how these significant urban, political, and religious events affected the Pantheon and the role it played in daily life in Rome. Its survival and reputation were such that, little more than a decade after Constantius’s visit to Rome, either in 368 or 370, the Rotunda was explicitly mentioned as the place in which an imperial law was announced to the public.5 Thereafter, we hear nothing about the Pantheon until the early seventh century, when Pope Boniface IV requested the emperor’s permission to transform the building into a church.
During the centuries preceding the conversion of the Pantheon, the material glory of ancient Rome was disintegrating. A significant number of urban spaces and buildings had fallen into a state of serious decay, and were gradually spoliated to furnish materials for the new Christian basilicas that were being built inside and outside the walls of the city. The situation was worsened during the fifth and sixth centuries when the city was besieged and sacked by foreign invaders on several occasions. The population shrank, and a number of heavy earthquakes and inundations from the Tiber certainly did their part to contribute to the city’s deterioration.6 We have no record referring specifically to the Pantheon and its status during these difficult times, but as one of the ancient city’s largest and most central monuments, it is hard to imagine that it remained unaffected. It was probably during this period, for instance, that the pagan statues reported to have adorned the interior of the ancient temple disappeared.7 How the building itself managed to survive can only be suggested by the account of the Byzantine historian Procopius (died 565): “[T]he Romans love their city above all the men we know, and they are eager to protect all their ancestral treasures and to preserve them, so that nothing of the ancient glory of Rome may be obliterated. For even though they were for a long time under Barbarian sway, they preserved the buildings of the city and most of its adornments, such as they could through the excellence of their workmanship notwithstanding so long a lapse of time and such neglect.”8
Whereas the Pantheon thus remained standing, much of what surrounded it in the formerly busy Campus Martius with its many public buildings must have quickly fallen into decay, since already in 398 there was a prohibition issued against the construction of hovels within or adjacent to the antiquities in the Campus Martius. Over the centuries, the gradual abandon and dilapidation of the ancient city also caused the ground
level around the Pantheon to rise, giving the persistent impression that the Rotunda had sunk into the ground.9
The Christian Consecration
The long history of the Pantheon in the Middle Ages is inextricably bound up with the decision made during the pontificate of Boniface IV (608–615) to transform the ancient building into a Christian church.10 Because Rome was under Byzantine control during this period, the pope had asked the emperor Phocas (602–610) in Constantinople for permission to appropriate the building for the Church. The contemporary account of the life and donations of Pope Boniface (in the Liber Pontificalis) mentions briefly that “he [Boniface] asked the emperor Phocas for the temple called the Pantheon, and in it he made the church of the ever-virgin St Mary and all martyrs (S. Mariae ad martyres); in this church the emperor presented many gifts.”11 Although the original purpose of the Pantheon is still subject to discussion, in the Early Middle Ages, obviously, the Pantheon was known as a “temple” (templum).12 If indeed the Pantheon originally served as a temple, architectonically it was not a temple in the conventional sense, a fact that may have facilitated its conversion into a church.13
Medieval liturgical calendars make it clear that the Christian consecration of the Pantheon took place on a May 13, although the exact year of the consecration has remained uncertain. It has therefore been suggested that if the consecration of the Pantheon took place on a Sunday during Boniface’s papacy, it would have had to occur on May 13 of 613. Yet it does not seem to have been required by the Roman Church that consecrations took place on Sundays.14 It is therefore possible that the Pantheon was consecrated no later than 610, at which time Emperor Phocas was still alive and able to present the newly consecrated church with gifts, as recorded by the Liber Pontificalis. Since Boniface was elected pope in August 608 and the consecration of the Pantheon took place in the month of May, only the years 609 and 610 are plausible dates. There is no further evidence, however, in favor of one of these years over that of 613. Nevertheless, in order to narrow it down, the consecration of the Pantheon has sometimes been associated with the placement of the Column of Phocas on the Forum Romanum. In the month of August 608, this column was set up by the Byzantine exarch of Italy to honor the Byzantine emperor and his newly achieved one-year truce with the Longobards, who had threatened Rome with invasion. According to this hypothesis, the emperor’s concession of the Pantheon to the Church might have taken place in this new, albeit short-lived, moment of reconciliation and peace. If so, it is likely that Phocas reacted promptly, that is, in 609 rather than in 610, and that the Pantheon was consecrated within that same year.15