Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World: Iconography and Representation around the Mediterranean 9781350125735, 9781350125766, 9781350125742

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Title
Copyrights
Content
List of Illustrations
Acknowledgements
List of Abbreviations
1 Introduction
Aim and scope
Literary review
A new study of the iconography of maritime representations
A selection of portable and fixed objects with harbour representations
The organization of this monograph
2 Alexandria, Rome, Leptis Magna and the Triumphal Imagery of Monumental Harbours
Introduction
Alexandria
Portus
Leptis Magna
Aspects of monumentality in ancient harbours across the Mediterranean
Monumentality as a source of inspiration and a programmatic model for triumphal imagery
Conclusion
3 Harbours in Graeco-Roman Art: Symbolism and Identity across the Mediterranean
Introduction
Symbolic message: Case studies of Rome, Puteoli and Leptis Magna
Ideological message: Representations of the imperial and mercantile classes
Propagandistic message: The iconography of the imperial authority
Conclusion
4 Portraying Maritime Cityscapes: An Imperial Perspective
Introduction
Claudius and Nero: Monumental infrastructure
Trajan’s Column: Control over the water
The Arch of Septimius Severus: Authority
Military control over the Mediterranean Sea
Conclusion
5 The Mercantile Class: Economic Growth and Influence during the Imperial Era
Introduction
Harbour mosaics as evidence of the economy and trade
Controlling the sea, sailing the sea: A depiction of a peaceful Mediterranean
Commercial messages behind harbour scenes
Conclusion
6 A Postcard from the Ancient Mediterranean: Aspects of Euergetism and Paideia in Representations of Maritime Cities
Introduction
Public sphere: Representations of safety and security
Private sphere: Representations of abundance and prosperity
Sources of inspiration and commission
The marine environment and visual media: An instrument for education in antiquity
Conclusion
7 Epilogue: Maritime Cities: An Iconography of Power
Conclusions
Symbolism vs reality: The message behind the iconography of the maritime world
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

Also Available from Bloomsbury The Ancient Mediterranean Sea in Modern Visual and Performing Arts: Sailing in Troubled Waters, Rosario Rovira Guardiola Salamis 480 bc: The Naval Campaign That Saved Greece, William Shepherd Roman Aqueducts and Water Supply, A. Trevor Hodge

Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World Iconography and Representation around the Mediterranean Federico Ugolini

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2020 This paperback edition published in 2022 Copyright © Federico Ugolini, 2020 Federico Ugolini has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgements on p. ix constitute an extension of this copyright page. Cover design: Terry Woodley Cover image © Harbour (perhaps Ariminum) with lighthouse, a boat and two transport ships with crews at work, mosaic from the domus of Palazzo Diotallevi in Rimini, Emilia Romagna, Italy. Second to first century BC . (Photo by DeAgostini/Getty Images) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

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Contents List of Illustrations Acknowledgements List of Abbreviations 1

2

3

Introduction Aim and scope Literary review A new study of the iconography of maritime representations A selection of portable and fixed objects with harbour representations The organization of this monograph Alexandria, Rome, Leptis Magna and the Triumphal Imagery of Monumental Harbours Introduction Alexandria Portus Leptis Magna Aspects of monumentality in ancient harbours across the Mediterranean Monumentality as a source of inspiration and a programmatic model for triumphal imagery Conclusion Harbours in Graeco-Roman Art: Symbolism and Identity across the Mediterranean Introduction Symbolic message: Case studies of Rome, Puteoli and Leptis Magna Ideological message: Representations of the imperial and mercantile classes Propagandistic message: The iconography of the imperial authority Conclusion

vii ix x 1 1 5 7 10 12

15 15 15 19 23 26 35 54

57 57 57 68 80 83

Contents

vi

4

5

6

7

Portraying Maritime Cityscapes: An Imperial Perspective Introduction Claudius and Nero: Monumental infrastructure Trajan’s Column: Control over the water The Arch of Septimius Severus: Authority Military control over the Mediterranean Sea Conclusion The Mercantile Class: Economic Growth and Influence during the Imperial Era Introduction Harbour mosaics as evidence of the economy and trade Controlling the sea, sailing the sea: A depiction of a peaceful Mediterranean Commercial messages behind harbour scenes Conclusion A Postcard from the Ancient Mediterranean: Aspects of Euergetism and Paideia in Representations of Maritime Cities Introduction Public sphere: Representations of safety and security Private sphere: Representations of abundance and prosperity Sources of inspiration and commission The marine environment and visual media: An instrument for education in antiquity Conclusion Epilogue: Maritime Cities: An Iconography of Power Conclusions Symbolism vs reality: The message behind the iconography of the maritime world

Notes Bibliography Index

85 85 85 90 101 105 108

111 111 111 134 138 143

145 145 145 151 154 158 165 167 167 174 181 203 223

Illustrations 1.1 Mediterranean Sea 1.2 Central and southern Italy 2.1 Alexandria 2.2 Portus 2.3 Leptis Magna 2.4 Nile mosaic, Temple of the Fortune, Palestrina 2.5 Oplontis villa painting, Pompeii 2.6 Navalia painting 2.7 Port scene painting, Villa Farnesina, Rome 2.8 Casa della Fontana Piccola painting, Pompeii 2.9 Naples painting 2.10 Pompeii painting 2.11 Pompeii painting 2.12 Gragnano painting, Stabiae 2.13 Gragnano painting, Stabiae 3.1 Esquilino painting, Rome 3.2 Puteoli flasks (Odemira, Praga, Populonia) 3.3 Mosaic of S. Maria in Trastevere, Rome 3.4 Mosaic of the Erotes, Nile villa, Leptis Magna 3.5 Torlonia relief, Rome 3.6 Sarcophagus, Ostia-Rome 4.1 Nero’s coin, Rome 4.2 Trajan’s Column relief, scene LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXII, LXXXVI–LXXXVII, Rome 4.3 NW frieze, Arch of Septimius Severus, Leptis Magna 5.1 Mosaic of the Ships and Hercules bibax, Domus Palazzo Diotallevi, Rimini 5.2 Harbour scene from the Mosaic of the Ships and Hercules bibax, Domus Palazzo Diotallevi, Rimini 5.3 Mosaic of the Baths of the Lighthouse, with marine creatures and lighthouse mosaic, Ostia IV.2.1 5.4 Mosaic of the Vega Baja, Toledo

xii xiii 18 22 25 40 43 44 46 47 49 50 51 52 54 59 61 64 65 69 70 86 92 102 113 113 120 122

viii

Illustrations

5.5 5.6 5.7 5.8 5.9

Harbour scene from the Mosaic of the Vega Baja, Toledo Mosaic of Oceanus, Bad Kreuznach Harbour scene from the Mosaic of Oceanus, Bad Kreuznach Mosaic of the Antiquarium Comunale, Capitoline Museums, Rome Mosaics with harbour scenes, Villa del Casale, Piazza Armerina

123 126 127 129 132

Acknowledgements This volume would not have been possible without the generous encouragement, support and dedication of a few great people. First, I would like to express my gratitude to Maria Cecilia Antoni, Jennifer Baird, Caroline Barron, Marco Benoît Carbone, Lisa Carden, Daniel Carey, Rosario Rovira Guardiola, Edward Herring, Bridget Martin, John Pearce and Mauro Puddu. I wish to thank colleagues and staff that assisted me at the photographic archives of the German Archaeological Institute at Madrid and Rome, the Getty Images Archive, the Capitoline Museums, the Museo Nazionale ‘Palazzo Massimo alle Terme’, the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, the Parco Archeologico di Ostia, the Pedicini Archive, the Soprintendenze Archeologiche di Rome, Naples, Pompeii, Ravenna, ForlìCesena and Rimini and the Vatican Museums. My special thanks to the Moore Institute at NUI Galway for providing me with support during the writing of this book, as well as the Library of the Institute of Classical Studies in London, the Biblioteca Gambalunga in Rimini and the Museo della Marineria ‘W. Patrignani’ in Pesaro. I would also like to thank Maria Lucia De Nicolò, who has proven to be a great source of support and encouragement when developing this idea and monograph project. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Marta Scicolone, who enthusiastically drew original maps and illustrations for this volume. Writing this book would not have been possible without the endless help and support of Federica Scicolone. Without her patience and serenity, I would not have been able to finish this book. She offered me understanding, helped with research and language issues, provided ideas and assisted me with all the many other tasks that a monograph project involves. A special mention to my parents, Patrizio and Loredana, and my sister Eleonora, for their encouragement, love and support during this stage of my academic career. Last but not least, I am particularly grateful to Alice Wright, Lily Mac Mahon, Georgina Leighton and the rest of the Bloomsbury Academic team for their constant support and guidance throughout the entire publication process. I would also thank the anonymous referees from Bloomsbury Academic whose comments proved extremely helpful in shaping and revising the entire manuscript. Federico Ugolini London 2020

Abbreviations ActaInstRomFin AEspA AJA ArchCl AMDSPM AttiMemProvR AW BA BCH BdA BullCom BMC CARB CIL CRAI DAI DossArch EAA IJNA JAT JdI J. Geol. Soc. JMR JRA JRS LTUR MAAR MAN

Acta Instituti Romani Finlandia Archivo Español de Arqueología American Journal of Archaeology Archeologia classica Atti e memorie della deputazione di storia patria per le province delle Marche Atti e memorie deputazione di storia patria per le province di Romagna Antike Welt. Zeitschrift für Archäologie und Kulturgeschichte Bollettino di archeologia Bulletin de correspondance hellénique Bollettino d’arte Bullettino della Commissione archeologica comunale di Roma Catalogue of Roman Coins in the British Museum Corsi di cultura e antichità ravennate e bizantina Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres – Paris Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Dossiers d’archéologie Enciclopedia dell’arte antica classica e orientale International Journal of Nautical Archaeology Journal of Ancient Topography Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Journal of Geological Society Journal of Mosaic Research Journal of Roman Archaeology Journal of Roman Studies Lexikon Topographicum Urbis Romae Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome Museo Archeologico Nazionale

Abbreviations

MDAI MÉFRA MünchBeitr NSc PBSR PPM RA RdA RendLinc RendNap RendPontAcc RhM RIN RPGR

xi

Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome – Antiquité Münchener Beiträge zur Papyrusforschung und antiken Rechtsgeschichte Notizie degli scavi di antichità Papers of the British School at Rome Pompeii Pitture e Mosaici Revue archéologique Rivista di archeologia Atti dell’Accademia nazionale dei Lincei – Rendiconti Rendiconti dell’Accademia di archeologia, lettere e belle arti, Napoli Atti della Pontificia Accademia romana di archeologia – Rendiconti Rheinisches Museum für Philologie Rivista italiana di numismatica e scienze affini Répertoire des peintures grecques et romaines

Fig. 1.1  Mediterranean Sea. Map by F. Ugolini.

Fig. 1.2  Central and southern Italy. Map by F. Ugolini.

1

Introduction Aim and scope Maritime cityscapes, harbours, seaports and views of the marine world, with their evocative monumental buildings, were fascinating and popular subjects for visual representations in the Classical world.1 The development of building techniques for architectural elements – such as moles, quays, porticoes, warehouses and lighthouses, and also for maritime villas and coastal settlements – as well as the intensification of seafaring, sailing, trade and commerce were characteristics of the boom in constructing ports in the ancient Mediterranean. They also contributed not only to the ports’ overall scale, scope and monumentality, but also to the transmission of the emotions, perceptions, senses and understanding of the viewers.2 The presence of these key harbour elements undoubtedly shaped the artistic interest in Mediterranean ports in general, and specific structures and areas, some of which – including those along the coasts of the Aegean, Adriatic, Black, Levantine, Libyan and Tyrrhenian Seas – became the motifs of a broader repertoire of iconographies and representations of the maritime world in Classical antiquity (Fig. 1.1; Fig. 1.2).3 Major ports and coastal buildings were depicted, and their reproduction in several artworks and in different media reached its zenith during a relatively short period, from the late third century bc to the mid-third century ad.4 The Mediterranean region played a pivotal geographic and economic role as an interface within the context of the Graeco-Roman world, and its vast body of water was a major source of attraction not only for fishermen, merchants, sailors and traders but also artists, passengers, travellers, writers and a more general audience. This territory and its waters acted as a crossroads between the West and the East – for example Greece and India, and Rome, Arabia and China – and also between Europe and Africa – for example Rome, Athens, Alexandria and the Nile region. It also functioned as a node enabling connections with the newly established provinces of the seaborne empires, from the Hellenistic kingdoms to

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

the Roman Empire.5 From the Hellenistic period onwards, with the acquisition and creation of new kingdoms and provinces, the markets, ports and associated communication networks were improved across the Mediterranean, and agricultural and commercial activities intensified in their hinterlands and beyond.6 This phenomenon has been linked to the consolidation of maritime and terrestrial routes which were vital for both socio-economic and military and seafaring activities.7 Within this framework, harbours, maritime centres and natural landing points assumed a key function in markets, life and military events. They also played a role in shaping history, in the construction of the identity of Mediterranean culture and in making the Mediterranean both a broad territory acting as an ‘interface’ within the Classical world and a favoured subject – a source of inspiration and a genre for iconographic themes. Owing to the geographical centrality of its territory, the Mediterranean region and its harbours and maritime centres have recently been well documented in archaeological studies.8 The Graeco-Roman expansion, in particular along the Aegean, Adriatic, Black, Libyan and Tyrrhenian Seas, favoured the construction of major settlements and permanent ports. These ports became the motifs of diverse and popular representations that are of high value and relevance in terms of representing these superstructures of the Classical world. Modern scholarship is inclined to situate harbour iconography from the third century bc onwards within specific geographical contexts such as representations of natural anchorages, beaches, riverine environments, quasi-idyllic marine landscapes or sheltered bays, for example at Alexandria, Caesarea Maritima and Puteoli, or to link these harbours with selected buildings from man-made port cities during the first and third centuries ad, for example harbour constructions and renovations at Ostia, Portus, Ancona, Kenchreai and Leptis Magna.9 But, the representations of ports and maritime landscapes have often been neglected in studies of ancient harbours. The iconography of marine landscapes and structures, and especially its significance and messages, features very little in scholarship, and only the most famous representations of individual harbours, such as Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna, are cited as representative evidence of great harbours in this macro-region.10 The harbour scenes set in marine landscapes, including water, the coast and landing points, on the diverse media tell us that the imagining and visualization of ports was an important component of Graeco-Roman art as early as the third century bc.11 It is unlikely that Greek and Roman artists created marine landscapes by following dedicated patterns based on reality.12 This is something that emerged during the late Hellenistic and Augustan periods when it was

Introduction

3

fashionable to create artworks with villas, porticoes, harbours, canals, rivers, coasts and, more importantly, representations of people fishing, sailing and working at the ports. The most relevant aspect of these artistic productions seems to be that the marine landscapes, the harbour buildings and the depicted workers are the centre of attention and interest. The people, who were often considered of secondary importance, are not drawn from mythology or fantasy, but rather conduct ordinary activities, including aspects of everyday coastal life. The exponential growth of harbour scenes is obvious in the Classical sources, and this kind of iconography emerged more fully during the time of the JulioClaudian dynasty.13 This was not its first iteration, but rather a re-assessment of a development from the mid-Hellenistic period.14 These artworks were inspired by topography, such as that of Alexandria and its monumental lighthouse.15 This formula consists of marine environments, with buildings scattered along the coasts. But, although from the second century bc onwards there is evidence of Egyptian or exotic places, the harbourscape genre seems to emphasize architectural development as opposed to the landscape.16 Many sections feature river, delta, sea and marine scenarios, but the setting during the Graeco-Roman age prioritizes human achievements over these natural elements. This is conveyed through the general representations of porticoes, statues, buildings and ships as a familiar Mediterranean prototype which could perhaps refer to any region. The impression is of a generalized landscape that spread from the Strait of Gibraltar to the Levantine coasts, although it is clear that main centres, such as Alexandria and Portus, provided the artists and the commissioners with a model that satisfied their desire and demand for knowledge, identity and art. The maritime landscapes indicate the use of architectural depictions as social and cultural symbols. This phenomenon can be seen throughout the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. As is the case for harbour images, architectural depictions in the Classical world represent cultures, evoke ideas of social and economic advancement and technological progress, and also illustrate primary geographic areas. These images might also ‘reproduce fictional narratives’ about cultures, progress and achievements. Depictions of ancient maritime buildings and environments highlighted and promoted parallels between Greek and Roman cultures and advanced harbours. Illustrations of the port architectural elements in the territories controlled by seaborne empires including Athens and Rome often portrayed urban centres, military achievements, joyful people and various authorities and rulers. This technique of representing the environment promotes a Mediterranean view of the superiority of Athens and Rome, in terms of social

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

and economic success. Research on landscape representations often focuses on style, and categorizes them by chronology and theme.17 The adoption of specific environments or motifs is connected with representations of, for instance, harbours, maritime villas, exotic and Nilotic environments, lagoons, water basins, rivers, small lakes and ponds, especially in wall paintings from central and southern Italy, i.e. Latium and Campania.18 The depiction of monumental port structures is related to specific representations, but these scenes might also differ greatly, and the depiction may not necessarily be related to the location where it was made or found. This monograph aims to investigate the visual aspects of Graeco-Roman Mediterranean port scenes dating to the Hellenistic and Imperial periods by analysing aspects of communication, identity, meaning, message, metaphor, perception, signification and symbolism, as presented in selected iconographies and representations. This monograph, which provides a comprehensive study of harbour images in Classical antiquity, also aims to fill a major lacuna in the study of the ancient Mediterranean. Research on this topic, which stems from the recent tradition of visual culture studies, offers new insights into the symbolic and metaphoric implications of harbour and marine landscape representations of the Mediterranean in the Classical world. Selected case studies, including harbour scenes depicting features that originally appear at the harbours of Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna, have been chosen as key pieces of evidence as much of the visual aspects of these ports have been little explored.19 By examining the iconography and representation of Mediterranean ports, this monograph aims to improve our understanding of the semiotic and visual aspects20 – as opposed to the topographic significance – of these harbour and maritime images through considering their cultural, socio-economic, and political and propagandistic roles in their regional, transregional, and public and private contexts within the wider Mediterranean world. It evaluates the harbour images of the Graeco-Roman world by exploring literary, iconographic, epigraphic and archaeological sources. In this respect, this monograph offers a new interpretation of multiple characteristics of Mediterranean port representations, therefore filling the lacunae in decades of fragmented and almost non-existing research.21 This first section of the introduction outlined the aims of this book. The second section outlines current studies in Mediterranean iconography and their application to harbour representations. The third section reviews the existing literature on the subject. The fourth section describes the approach and method adopted for this investigation. The fifth section presents a review of the sources available for the study by defining the criteria for the selection of portable and

Introduction

5

fixed objects with harbour representations. The sixth section provides a summary of the monograph’s organization.

Literary review This section presents a literary review of the study of harbour iconography in the Classical world and evaluates reasons for the lacunae noted above. Scholarship on ancient harbour scenes is vast. However, for a long time harbour images have been regarded by archaeologists and historians as a primary source for the identification of seaports and the reconstruction of macro- and microtopographic aspects.22 Some of the most important sources, which draw on works commenced in the 1930s, include Lugli and Filibeck (1935), Calza (1940), Picard (1952; 1959), Becatti (1954; 1961) and Gentili (1959).23 Of these, Picard undoubtedly represents the first solid contribution to the discussion of lighthouse representations and the role of Alexandria in building such imagery. Recent studies on ancient harbour iconography began primarily in the 1960s, with works by Peters (1963), Ostrow (1977), Dunbabin (1978) and Clarke (1979). These were then followed by the French and Italian tradition in the study of Classical art, such as by Tabarroni (1976), Kolendo (1977), Reddé (1979), De Maria (1988), Dall’Olio (1989; 1997) and Sampaolo (1998), whose articles were published in high-profile peer-review journals, including the AJA, CARB, Latomus, MÉFRA, JRA and JRS.24 In the 1990s, general volumes on Classical art relating to mosaics and wall paintings by Wilson (1983), Ling (1991) and Dunbabin (1999) and further developed studies in this direction.25 During the same period, proceedings and series of regional and local volumes, often continuing work that began early in the 1960s, were published. The above works combined have published most of the artworks and findings depicting marine environments and harbour landscapes – these often relate to a specific site or geographic reference. Some, but not all, of the more recent findings of these scenes have been catalogued. Singular case studies from Pompeii, Naples and Rome were published in the 1990s – on the occasion of the major works in Pompeii and Herculaneum – and from other places in Latium and Campania.26 Of the collections, series and monographs on harbour scenes examined in this monograph, most were created between the 1950s and the late 1990s, particularly during the latter years. Other works explore individual aspects of ports, sailing and fishing scenes in view of the local repertoire of visual sources, although the main focus of these scenes is not the central aim of these works.27 The absence of

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

holistic considerations of iconographic sources, which connect these aspects of Mediterranean port life, has resulted in boundaries being created around this topic.28 Research on ancient Mediterranean ports has focused on the limited exploration of aspects of iconography and representation. The works from the 1970s and 1980s attempted to explore the layout of the ports, without any concern for the setting and the relationship with the urban centre, and, more importantly, without any reference to the role of the structures.29 Scholars worked on individual port images without situating them in a wider context, and they attempted to use such a repertoire to address specific questions on local topography.30 No dedicated studies have explored the iconography and representation of the Mediterranean ports or attempted to study the meanings and messages behind these images.31 Mediterranean ports have also never been considered in relation to their symbolism in Hellenistic and Roman art, in particular in relation to their connections with the surrounding countryside, hinterland and marine world. Seascapes and harbour structures are often presented as within either public or private spaces, but scholars’ perceptions have been limited to general studies in Classical art, such as huge pavement mosaics and sculpture groups, while harbour images, in most cases, have not been exploited systematically. Apart from the reliefs of port scenes on Trajan’s Column, scholars have studied very few ancient visual representations of ports.32 Key coins, frescoes, mosaics and reliefs from Naples, Puteoli, Ravenna, Rome and Rimini have been explored only briefly, and the connection between the artworks and the ports where they were found or which they depict needs critical re-evaluation.33 In this regard, Pensa discusses the main contributions to the topic of harbour scene sets up to the late 1990s.34 She notes that the use of the harbour iconography repertoire in Classical art production represented a major step forward for landscape representations, although these images themselves have not received the scholarly attention they deserve. Several studies on landscapes in Classical antiquity focus more on the idyllic, mythological and terrestrial aspects than the maritime, and they focus on either very specific cases and questions or on a general historical framework.35 Pensa stresses the need for the development of studies on the meaning and message of maritime landscapes in the ancient world and also later periods. She poses questions concerning how Hellenistic art influenced Roman representations of landscapes, and she assumes that the repertoire of images had purposes other than portraying a real harbour centre. Pensa also argues that it was fashionable at the time to depict idealized forms of the sky, water, land and environmental elements. There have been few important studies regarding ancient harbour scenes since Pensa.

Introduction

7

During the past two decades, general studies on visual culture, and also on the relationships between images and texts, have boomed and produced a considerable amount of groundbreaking monographs, from Elsner (2006) to Squire (2009). But, in terms of ancient harbour maritime landscape scenes, only a small selection of works, including those of Salvetti (2002), Tuck (2008) and Cuyler (2014), have proposed renewed enquiry into some visual evidence from Ostia and Portus in order to understand the relevance of images and the meanings of the representations, with a major focus on the Imperial period.36 Tuck also works on the symbolic value of lighthouse images, providing good insight into their imagery. Recently, Ojeda (2017) revised work on a key harbour image – the harbour scene from the mosaic of the Antiquarium Comunale – and sporadic work on this topic emerges intermittently. However, generally speaking, very little attention has been given to developing, at least preliminarily, work on ‘symbolic versus reality’; that is, the meaning and message of marine landscapes that reunify the region. However, it is also fair to say that ongoing project works form a basis for future development of the subject.37 The visual sources that relate to ancient harbours indicate a new awareness of the physical structures of Graeco-Roman period monuments, and how major infrastructure emerged throughout the Mediterranean.38 Ancient port sites have not been considered in depth from the perspective of communication, perception and transmission. This prompted me to reconsider the value of this material, including identity, meaning, message, sense and symbolism, and to examine this subject separately from the principal aspects of the ancient port sites. To date, there has been little or no attempt to explore how the Graeco-Roman ports were reimagined in the setting of Classical antiquity.39 The case studies in this work focus on finds and findings inspired by Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna (the largest harbour sites), and that also underwent major infrastructural works, had monumental public buildings and were major capital cities during antiquity.40 In conclusion, aside from spotty attempts to combine port research with visual material in a few select maritime centres, the visual sources of this period have been deemed of little interest for the study of ancient harbours.

A new study of the iconography of maritime representations The above review indicates that iconography and representations of maritime cityscapes from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods are often treated in isolation.

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

In this book, however, the value of coins, frescoes, mosaics and reliefs portraying harbours is central as they are useful for exploring subject areas as diverse as culture, economy, identity and society, and that go far beyond the mere archaeological implications. The exploration of these sources reveals how ancient societies perceived and represented the effectiveness and value of the harbour structures. Scholars have shown that harbours contain an ideological element as monuments and that representations of monuments are worth studying not only for topographic insights but also because they themselves have symbolic or ideological purposes.41 Therefore, it is important to examine the harbour images as devices that rulers and patrons commissioned in order to convey particular messages concerning status, wealth, achievement and religious details. In this regard, this enquiry promotes a critical examination of harbour scenes that problematizes the identification of individual ports, thus undermining a directly topographical approach.42 By examining the environments, harbour settings and structures, in tandem with the actors and activities which are represented within them, as well as the wider context of the artworks in which these marine scenes occur, their likely ideological, propagandistic and symbolic value can be explored and assessed. This section defines the approach and method used, especially in regard to the use of iconographic material. Three major harbour sites – Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna – and over twenty harbour images, which date from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods, have been selected for examination as sources of inspiration for representations in several media. The selection was made on the basis of the following features – the presence of monumental and public buildings, the presence of major infrastructure, and a large population giving scope for economic activities, for example circulation, distribution and shipping of commodities. Moreover, the availability of references in literary and historical accounts, as well as archaeological evidence of harbour remains and previous reports, studies and works on these harbour sites, all contributed to the selection of the case studies. With regard to the outdated topographic approach to the images, here the ancient iconographic sources are treated in their own right, as a separate subject and from a different perspective. Archaeological, epigraphic, iconographic and literary sources are used with regard to Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna, where the selected artworks containing harbour scenes are examined as evidence for the status and prestige of patrons and artists, the wealth of the public and domestic buildings located in the port area, and the connection between the local mercantile class and harbour activities. The scenes on Nero’s coin, Trajan’s

Introduction

9

Column and the Arch of Septimius Severus – especially those relating to, or inspired by, Portus and Leptis Magna – are examined as evidence for some specific harbour structures such as quay, mole, lighthouse, breakwater, dockyard and warehouse.43 The textual and visual sources from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods for the study of Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna are exploited as part of the study of the ancient harbours’ topography. In this work, these sources contribute to a preliminary understanding of the scale, scope and purpose of port structures at these three locations, including lighthouse, storage spaces, quay and mole areas. However, I argue that these sources have value beyond this, and, as such, I examine them as representations in their own right. Here, in fact, these two subjects, i.e. iconography and representation, which form the key strands of this monograph, are unified under the theme of ‘visualization’. This approach to the study of ancient harbour images draws on the recent shift in the study of ancient topographical representations towards exploring their symbolic and propagandistic aspects and downplaying their relevance as sources for ‘real’ topography.44 The decision to treat such iconographic (and also archaeological and epigraphic) material holistically is based on the need to provide a comprehensive analysis and a much fuller study of harbour and maritime scenes within the visual culture sphere as a separate theme.45 The decision to study the symbolic resonance of these representations of harbours, as well as to study them within the field of iconographic studies, is also justified by the wider literature on ancient depictions of Graeco-Roman structures and on the perception of ancient buildings and physical remains.46 But, while the physical remains of public buildings, such as amphitheatres, arches, bridges and temples, have recently been examined under the lens of the power of images, as well as perceptions and representations of Classical antiquities, studies of harbour remains are absent from this debate. The study of the representation of buildings and monuments has thus proven to be a fruitful discipline.47 Studies on the iconographic tradition have demonstrated that the Greeks and Romans treated ancient buildings as representations and not necessarily with any concern for topographical accuracy.48 Instead, the observations on the structures relate to the social, economic and political contexts of the patrons and observers; this gives more specific answers to questions on the role of both audience and commissioners. Taking the above into account, in this monograph I focus on the identity, meaning, message, perception, sense and symbolic value of the harbour representations in Classical antiquity. This work draws on museums, collections and archive images from the Mediterranean region (and beyond), from Algeria,

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

Cyprus, Egypt, Italy, Germany, Greece, Israel, Libya, Syria, Spain and Tunisia, through the collection and critical evaluation of iconographic materials which have ancient Mediterranean harbourscapes as their primary subject.49 In this monograph, I develop a strand of research that, through the critical study of the underestimated aspects of perception and symbolism of these monuments in Classical antiquity, uncovers new information on the perception of Mediterranean harbours. It is fair to recognize that the topic is very broad and covers an important chronological timeline; however, the material collected includes selected visual images, likely inspired by the three above-mentioned major Mediterranean harbour sites, and I have aimed to select representative material from both fixed and portable objects (e.g. coins, frescoes, friezes, mosaics, reliefs and wall paintings) in order to assess the iconography and representations of the harbours from the late Hellenistic to the mid-Imperial period. I interpret these harbour representations in relation to their imagery and symbolic resonance within a determined social, political and economic context. The aim of this work is to expand the study of ancient ports’ visualization in the Mediterranean.

A selection of portable and fixed objects with harbour representations This section reviews the specific evidence available for the study of the iconography and representation of the ancient Mediterranean harbours. By analysing the literary, epigraphic and archaeological data in relation to port structures, including data from iconographic and visual sources, and also comparative and archival data, I attempt to demonstrate that ancient harbour iconography may be conducted through the study of multiple sources of evidence in order to assess the triumphal imagery of monumental harbours, symbolism and identity across the Mediterranean, and the social, economic and political implications behind these representations. Studied in combination, these sources may be used to reconstruct the impact, development and purpose of the port sites, the economy of the ancient Mediterranean region and the meaning behind the iconography of Mediterranean ports, as well as aspects of the Graeco-Roman perception of ancient harbour structures. The data considered in this volume are literary (e.g. ancient authors’ accounts from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods), archaeological (e.g. previously published studies of the Mediterranean harbours of Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna; archival fieldwork references and reports on harbour sites), epigraphic (e.g. mainly from

Introduction

11

CIL) and iconographic (e.g. harbour images from coins, frescoes, friezes, mosaics, wall paintings and reliefs). The analysis of ancient iconography has been enriched by studying selected artworks that depict ancient Mediterranean harbours, for example: the Mosaic of the Nile Villa at Leptis Magna; frescoes at the Farnesina Villa in Rome; Belvedere, Portus and Rome sarcophagi; the Navalia fresco; Nero’s sestertius; frescoes in Naples and Pompeii; the Esquilino painting in Rome; the Puteoli flasks; Trajan’s Column reliefs in Rome; Gragnano’s picture in Naples; the Mosaic of the Ships at Rimini; the Mosaic of Santa Maria Trastevere in Rome; the Mosaic of the Antiquarium Comunale in Rome; the Mosaics of the Piazzale delle Corporazioni in Ostia; the Torlonia relief in Rome; the Mosaic of the Domus at Vega Baja in Toledo; the Mosaic of Oceanus at Bad Kreuznach; the Mosaic of the Triclinium at Apamea and the Mosaics of Piazza Armerina. Data for this study on harbour iconography and representation came from archaeological collections, institutes and museums, for example: the Capitoline Museums in Rome, the Vatican Museums, the Soprintendenze Archeologiche in Italy, e.g. Ostia, Pompeii, Ravenna and Rome; the archives of the German Institute of Archaeology at Madrid and Rome, the Getty Museum Archives, and the Pedicini Archive in Naples; local museums in Italy, Germany, Libya, Spain and beyond; and, where possible, previous works, dating from the 1950s to the 1990s.50 The study of this topic also involved data from general studies (old and new) on Graeco-Roman iconography, from the 1980s to the 2010s,51 and sources that examine in detail maritime iconography – although these focus mostly on buildings – from the 2000s to the 2010s onwards.52 By incorporating the most representative iconographic data on Mediterranean ports and making comparisons within the wider context of harbour imagery and representations from the Mediterranean and beyond, it is possible to analyse the symbolic value, meaning and messages of harbour iconography and representations. Nero’s coin, the reliefs on Trajan’s Column and the Arch of Septimius Severus, as well as the above-listed decorations, frescoes and mosaic representations, are the subject of this work. These have been widely published, although one may raise issues of adaptation in antiquity and the lack of detailed studies making it difficult to be certain of the interpretation of the scene, others have only a limited publication record.53 This study on harbour iconography and representation involves exploring and observing what was thought to be the physical fabric of the ancient harbour, references to elements of the ancient harbour in images, and discussions of the form the port might have taken and of its history. The textual and visual data that come from the archives, collections, institutes,

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

libraries and museums, which hold documentation from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods, form only a sample of the selected and available material. The data include textual evidence, such as accounts by Appianus, Cassius Dio, Catullus, Pliny the Elder, Pliny the Younger, Strabo, Suetonius and Tacitus; archaeological and historical works, both published and unpublished; and visual representations, providing support for arguments and information on aspects of the triumphal imagery and symbolic value of ancient harbours. Of the visual representations of harbours treated here, including those from Pompeii, Rome and Rimini, there is a good balance between published and unpublished data, but these data are, for the first time, applied here to the study of semiotic and visual aspects; thus, their potential for the future development of this branch of research should be noted. Scholarly works support this analysis and assessment of these materials.54

The organization of this monograph This monograph is divided into six chapters (in addition to this introduction). Chapter 2 explores the main centres whence the chosen representations derive, including Hellenistic Alexandria, Imperial Rome and late Imperial Leptis Magna. These centres form the key source of inspiration for visual-media production and representation. Selected case studies allow for examinations of fixed and portable objects, dating from the Hellenistic to the Imperial periods; using these, I examine evidence for the monumentality of marine infrastructures. I argue that the increasing ‘monumentality’ in the building of harbour facilities served as a model for iconographic representations. I also argue that triumphal imagery, especially at the end of the Hellenistic and the beginning of the Imperial period, largely depended on the monumental infrastructural works carried out at port cities across the Mediterranean. I examine how works acted as a source of inspiration and a pattern for works of art. Selected case studies from mosaics and wall paintings are treated in this chapter. Chapter 3 investigates the process of communicating messages and conveying symbolism through art in the Mediterranean, and I posit that visual media had a specific and strategic aim to convey and strengthen social, ideological and political ties between rulers and civilians. The aspects of symbolism and identity which can be found in harbour iconography are discussed through an examination of selected case studies, which include artworks from Leptis Magna, Naples, Pompeii, Puteoli and Rome.

Introduction

13

Chapter 4 argues that selected visual media, which were commissioned by the imperial authority, served as devices to express power, control over the seas and a military presence in the Mediterranean. In this chapter, I make the case that the Roman government promoted the infrastructural growth of the harbour and the facilities of maritime cities in order to protect and control the empire’s borders and frontiers, as well as to increase military and political supremacy and power. I explore selected visual media including coins from the principates of Claudius and Nero, reliefs from Trajan’s Column at Rome and images from the Arch of Septimius Severus at Leptis Magna. These representations served to celebrate and update viewers about the authority’s achievements as well as to publicize hegemony over the Mediterranean Sea and its related economic benefits. Chapter 5 discusses the changing image of the Roman mercantile class in imperial art, from the working class to the empire’s guardians. Roman shipowners and sailors began to view themselves as part of the empire and to distinguish between members of different corporations and associations within the mercantile and business world. I investigate case studies that include bichrome and polychrome mosaics from Apamea, Bad Kreuznach, Ostia, Piazza Armerina, Rimini, and Vega Baja, which contain details on the mercantile class and seamen from the Roman world. Then, by using epigraphic and archaeological evidence in harbour images, I examine the depictions of economic growth and the commercial influence of the mercantile class over the main Mediterranean markets. Across the Mediterranean, harbour images tell us that Romans thought of the mercantile class as more effective and reliable than the municipal class. Chapter 6 argues that, as part of the overarching propagandistic manifesto, Hellenistic societies and Romans used harbour and maritime cityscapes as artistic subjects through which they informed their audience about Alexandria’s and Rome’s hegemony, the protection of the frontiers, borders and economic and commercial achievements, especially in the East. This strategy seems to have had some success in spreading various messages across Italy and the provinces and would have led more people to support and serve in Rome’s military and economic domination of their territories. All this would have been impossible without the inspiration/observation of artists and public/private commissioners; together, they won the hearts and minds of the Mediterranean population, and the works produced also served as a useful tool for the educational – both learning and teaching – activities of Imperial Rome. Chapter 7 discusses final considerations. In it, I contend that the symbolism of the examined artworks contrasts with the reality behind the media.

2

Alexandria, Rome, Leptis Magna and the Triumphal Imagery of Monumental Harbours Introduction For a considerable time, it has been proposed that the ‘visualization’ of ancient harbours resulted in the depiction of specific maritime settlements and seafaring activities, and that these were executed to satisfy artistic needs. Archaeological evidence has been found for Mediterranean port facilities and infrastructure including moles, quays, warehouses and, particularly, lighthouses. This evidence demonstrates that there was a specific will to represent monumentality and infrastructural dimensions, but also other elements such as triumphal imagery. From the late Hellenistic period onwards, substantial works were undertaken in major coastal centres such as Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna to build harbour cities, facilities and constructions that were also commemorated by different commissioners through the representation of monumental and triumphal imagery. Visual representations of lighthouses, moles and harbour architecture, which were discovered at major coastal centres, not only indicate the power of rulers and emperors but also demonstrate the strategic meaning and message of ports’ iconographies.

Alexandria Alexandria was founded in 331 bc by Alexander the Great along the strip of land lying between the sea and Lake Mariout.1 The city had a natural harbour located in the lee of islets, reefs and the large island of Pharos. The site of this natural harbour favoured the creation of a major seagate for Egypt as its layout included two well-sheltered bays in the lee of the island of Pharos which were extensions of the narrow ridge that formed the promontory of Cape Lochias.2

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

The port included four main sectors: the Eastern (or Great) Harbour; the Western Harbour or Old Port; the island of Pharos; and the Heptastadion (Fig. 2.1).3 The port was formed by two main harbour basins, which are divided by a gigantic causeway, or mole, known as the Heptastadion – the first basin is the Eastern or Great Harbour (Portus Magnus), which is also the most well-sheltered landing point, and the second is the Western Harbour or Old Port (Portus Eunostus). The Great Harbour was entered through several navigation channels that were divided by numerous barriers. Of these, one measured c. 300 m in width, which guaranteed secure sailing. The Heptastadion, which is one of the largest and most prominent pieces of evidence for the harbour of Alexandria, was c. 1,200 m long and 200 m wide and served as a connector between the mainland and the island of Pharos.4 This long dam was equipped with two small bridges that allowed the flow of water and the mooring of small vessels. The Great Harbour was erected during the Hellenistic era, and it had a series of inner basins formed by extensions and jetties projecting from the islands and reefs within the natural bay that formed the harbour of Alexandria. The inner harbour was very well protected, and the approach to it was hazardous as the ships had to pass between the reefs. Strabo reports how challenging it was to access the harbour, although once inside, the deep waters allowed mooring for the largest ships to dock within the inner basin. He also refers to the Great Harbour and mentions that it was divided into several basins.5 Josephus states that the entrance of the channel was protected on the port side, i.e. the side of Cape Lochias; on the left, it was protected by an artificial mole, and on the right by the island of Pharos.6 The Pharos lighthouse was located either on the site of Fort Qait or at the east end of the island itself.7 The whole port complex used the Great Harbour as the commercial and naval base. The island of Pharos and its signalling tower dominated the Great Harbour.8 It was likely built of large blocks of local limestone, reaching over three storeys and several metres in height, and had colossal statues of deified Osiris and Isis placed on its top and front.9 The textual tradition attributes the planning to Sostratus of Cnidos under the commission of Ptolemy I Soter and Ptolemy II Philadelphus, and it was probably completed in 279 bc.10 The lighthouse was dedicated to sailors and the saviour gods, and was located in the north-east of the island of Pharos. Textual sources contain plenty of details about this structure. Strabo, who likely visited Alexandria in 24 bc, refers to this building in his description of landing at the Great Harbour. He mentions an island, at the centre of which is a ‘rock’. He reports that this is equipped with a tower, which is well built with white marble and has many storeys. He also states that the lighthouse

Alexandria, Rome and Leptis Magna: Monumental Harbours

17

has the same name as the island.11 Strabo also mentions that this lighthouse was constructed to ensure the safety of sailors – the shore contained reefs and shallows, and the sailors arriving from the open sea needed signals in order to identify the entrance to the harbour and to maintain their course towards it. Caesar states that Alexandria’s lighthouse (the Pharos) is a very tall tower which is located on an island and built with extraordinary workmanship. He also underlines that it takes its name from the island which is located in front of the harbour and which shapes its layout.12 Pliny the Elder describes the lighthouse as made of huge blocks and as being the highest signalling tower of the ancient Mediterranean, together with those at Ostia and Ravenna.13 Diodorus of Sicily provides geographical references, reporting that the sea voyage from Libya to Syria was c. 500 nautical miles, and that Alexandria was the sole safe harbour along this route as it was the only one with signalling structures.14 He also emphasizes the presence of a sandbank that runs the length of the Egyptian coast and states that this feature is not discernible to inexperienced sailors who approach these waters. This description underlines the purpose of the lighthouse, which served to guide the sailors and offer a source of light across the waters of the harbour. Archaeologically, the location of the Pharos is in question.15 Within the Great Harbour, at Cape Lochias there is also a further basin that forms the so-called Royal Harbour, which served monumental buildings located on the Cape itself. Strabo describes the Royal Harbour as a man-made structure and the private property of the kings.16 He also mentions the existence of a royal palace and another smaller harbour on the island of Antirhodos, enclosed by an elbow-shaped peninsula that was later equipped by Antony with a jetty which extended into the harbour. At the end of the harbour, there is a royal lodge called Timonium.17 The royal palace has been identified at the end of the jetty, facing Antirhodos and located at the end of a large pier that forms the third harbour basin.18 On the east side, there is a jetty made of concrete and measuring c. 50 m long and 7 m wide, with a 12-metre right angle projecting to the north-east. This major harbour remained in use for centuries, although improvements were carried out through time; it is unclear whether the jetty was part of Antony’s works or later ones. After Actium, Alexandria became a major export harbour as the imperial granary for all of the Egyptian grain shipped to Rome, and major harbour infrastructure and installations were adapted to support the growth in shipping and export. In fact, during the Augustan era the harbour complex of Alexandria likely had distinctive sectors with multifaceted functions. This served as the greatest emporium of the Mediterranean, facilitating the movement of up to 300,000 tonnes of Egyptian grain yearly to Rome, and operating as a port of

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

call where cargoes trans-shipped from inner-riverine waters to seagoing merchant ships, as well as serving internal demands.19 Recent archaeological explorations in the Great Harbour sector established that Alexandria was one of the greatest harbour of the ancient Mediterranean world, and that the Ptolemaic harbour underwent significant change during the Augustan era.20 Goddio has identified numerous finds of blocks of nonpozzolanic mortar, together with wooden forms, prepared on sandy foundations on the seashore, attesting to the monumentality and infrastructural features of the harbour. In addition, further maritime concrete blocks were identified in similar wooden forms throughout the Great Harbour.21 Oleson argues that this means the Hellenistic planners adopted the method of placing mortar on the seabed and using pozzolanic mortar to construct permanent man-made structures much earlier than Vitruvius, and then conferred the characteristics of a monumental complex on to the whole harbour.22 Alexandrian evidence attests that it was the first major harbour where maritime concrete and permanent structures were in use well before the Roman era. This means that monumental structures were built under the Ptolemaic dynasty. Later, Augustus’ improvements allowed Rome to create an appropriate hub for its Mediterranean port system and to showcase the Graeco-Roman technological achievements

Fig. 2.1  Alexandria. After Oleson et al. (2014: Fig. 4.36). Drawing by M. Scicolone.

Alexandria, Rome and Leptis Magna: Monumental Harbours

19

that began in the third century bc, at the height of the Hellenistic period. During the time of Strabo’s report, the harbour received an important number of major structures, including moles, piers and jetties, which were added within the sector of the Great Harbour.23 Recent works attest to the improvements made under the supervision of the Roman master engineers, who were experts in building harbour and marine structures along the Mediterranean shores.24 The archaeological evidence provides insight into the monumentality of this harbour and testifies to the maritime connectivity and supremacy of the harbour of Alexandria from the Hellenistic age onwards. In fact, the creation of this architectural wonder contains signature Hellenistic technological engineering advancements, thus implying that Ptolemaic technicians discovered and planned methods of building monumental infrastructures well before the Romans.

Portus Portus was the greatest port of Classical antiquity. Work on the construction of the monumental harbour complex began in ad 42 under Claudius, but was not completed before his death in ad 54, although several sectors of the harbour were already in use in ad 46. The port was completed by Nero in ad 64.25 This huge harbour infrastructure was not only the port of Rome, the capital of the empire, but also the main port of the ancient Mediterranean world. Portus was intended to become the main harbour, replacing the congested river port at Ostia along the Tiber as well as the markets of the Gulf of Naples, such as Puteoli, that had served Rome since the early second century bc.26 During this period, Rome had to transport cargoes to the mouth of the Tiber and offload products for trans-shipment operation up-river by using smaller barges. The riverine environment and sand barriers made the Tiber a challenge for large vessels; thus, Ostia became the main harbour for this commerce and trans-shipment, but the growth of Rome and the needs of the imperial capital required a more efficient and organized port system.27 Therefore, through the construction of harbour installations at Portus, the emperor secured his position as a benevolent ruler who provided support for inhabitants and the local economy, i.e. movement of people and goods, and regulated the riverine environment through channels for preventing flooding threats. The challenge of constructing the greatest and most international hub for Rome was the unattainable dream of several rulers, from Caesar onwards, although the strategy and techniques had discouraged them from investing

20

Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

money and manpower in this huge infrastructural plan. Claudius undertook a large-scale and complex project by facing the adverse conditions and difficulties posed by the Tiber and its riverine environment. Several Classical authors refer to the developments and purposes of the imperial port of Rome.28 Cassius Dio, for instance, notes the shortage of grain and the presence of famine in Rome, and that, as a consequence of this, Claudius commissioned a large infrastructural plan to prevent future trouble through the construction of a huge harbour near Ostia.29 Tacitus refers to some 200 grain vessels destroyed within the harbour basin by a violent storm.30 Suetonius and Cassius Dio describe the effort and challenge of building Portus and also report on the wonder of this harbour installation.31 They also refer to the lighthouse, which was located on top of an island near the harbour mouth, and also an isolated mole. Suetonius, in particular, states that the lighthouse was built in imitation of the Pharos of Alexandria.32 Archaeological research has provided reliable data and allowed for great insight into the layout and system of Portus.33 Research has elucidated the size and shape of the sheltered harbour basin and also its early disposition. The nature and spatial disposition of the terrestrial structures, and also the length and organization of the moles and quays shaping the harbour sectors, are now understood, although still only partially owing to the later Trajanic interventions and modifications that occurred from Late Antiquity onwards. The most reliable plan of the Claudian harbour comes from a study by Keay, who proposes that the entrance was located to the west (rather than the north) and consisted of two entrances, one on either side of the lighthouse structure. In addition, Keay points out that, during this time period, Portus must be examined in relation to Ostia, for which Portus provided much-needed docking capacity, and Rome, which came to serve as the principal port.34 The Claudian port includes a huge harbour basin for ensuring the landing of large ships, as well as a smaller harbour, also known as the Darsena, and harbour facilities, such as warehouses. The two canals linked the complex to the Tiber and Tyrrhenian through navigable channels both in order to prevent the flooding of the Tiber and to facilitate the movement of cargoes for the annona up to Rome. The port complex was then aggrandized by Trajan, who ordered the construction of an accessory hexagonalshaped harbour between ad 112 and 117 with the addition of a range of harbour walls, a quay platform, ship-sheds, warehouses, temples and canals. The harbour received further improvements during the Antonine and Severan periods (with major buildings), and it was used intensively, as indicated by archaeological and epigraphic evidence dating from the mid-second to the early third century ad.

Alexandria, Rome and Leptis Magna: Monumental Harbours

21

Portus were still active in the fourth century ad, and with a revised and limited spatial disposition and scope during the Late Antique and early medieval periods. Portus was located at the estuarine mouth of the Tiber, c. 35 km south-west of Rome and c. 4 km north of Ostia, to which it was connected via a navigable canal. Portus had two harbour basins, an outer one made by Claudius and a sheltered inner one of hexagonal form (Fig. 2.2).35 The site of Portus has been the focus of surveys and fieldworks since the 1860s,36 although comprehensive historical and archaeological studies were undertaken only from the late 1990s and early 2000s onwards, when it was subject of dedicated historical and archaeological enquiries.37 The modern studies identified a port complex formed by three main sectors. First, the Claudian basin covered an area of c. 200 ha that includes two huge moles (north and south) and a lighthouse, the so-called ‘Pharos’, located in the centre of the harbour mouth and extending into the sea on the west.38 The harbour had landing points for large ships that could have also passed through the Porto di Traiano and then offloaded in this basin, allowing trans-shipment operations and transport in smaller ships and barges. Second, the Darsena basin, which occupied an area of c. 1 ha, was rectangular in shape and located to the south. It provided shelter for and allowed for the mooring of river boats that navigated along the Fossa Traiana to the south. It was surrounded on the north by the Trajanic warehouses, and on the south by the Forum Holitorium.39 Third, the hexagonal harbour of Trajan (c. 32 ha) was located close to and to the east of the Claudian harbour.40 It formed the key sector of the port complex at Portus. Ships entered it and anchored for a short time along docking places equipped with mooring rings, before sailing up the canal towards the Tiber and up to Rome. The three harbour sectors received imported materials and products both to supply Rome and to transport to Ostia.41 The port core was attested by two great buildings located in the centre of the port sector. First was the Palazzo Imperiale, a c. 3-ha complex that was completed in ad 117; its west side faced the Claudian harbour, and the south side overlooked a sector of the Trajanic basin.42 The palace hosted the port authority, which coordinated and supervised seagoing ships and the loading/unloading of cargoes, as well as the assignation of landing and storage spaces. Second was a large rectangular complex close to the east side of the Palazzo, facing both the Claudian and the Trajanic harbours. In addition, the Severan warehouses were located close to the south-west of the Palazzo itself. The Trajanic basin was enclosed on several sides by storage buildings, and these form a large complex of warehouses, reaching almost 6 ha.43 The storage

22

Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

Fig. 2.2  Portus. After Keay (2016: Fig. 2). Drawing by M. Scicolone.

Alexandria, Rome and Leptis Magna: Monumental Harbours

23

spaces show complexity and diversity along the sides of the hexagonal basin: the north side is occupied by an oblong warehouse; the west side – that is, opposite the entrance of the Trajanic basin – was dominated by a temple complex between double pairs of oblong warehouses; and the south side was distinguished by two warehouses defining a triangular space. But, despite the complexity of such structures, very little evidence attests to the typology of commodities stored there, although cereals are the most likely.44 Grain was the key agricultural commodity imported to Portus, especially from Libya and Egypt as the main sources of the annona, and then stored in dedicated spaces throughout the port complex.45 Olive oil, wine and animals from Spain, Gaul and Tunisia were likely other key imported commodities. Among the non-agricultural products, marble, stones and luxury products came from the Eastern Mediterranean and North Africa and were unloaded along the Fossa and the Tiber, and then redistributed to Rome.46 The main scope of Portus was to supply and feed Rome, and its success derives from its extraordinary level of connectivity with Ostia and Rome, and from the close ties between these centres.47 The dense network of roads, canals and communications within the Tiber area allowed for interlinked connections with Rome and the whole Tyrrhenian, making Portus the greatest harbour infrastructure of the ancient world. These included the Fossa Traiana, the north canal from the Claudian period; the trans-shipment canal, known as Canale Romano, which extended from the Fossa Traiana to the Tiber by passing though the Trajanic harbour; another large canal running from the Fossa Traiana to Ostia; and a major road, the Via Portuensis.

Leptis Magna Leptis Magna was perhaps the last case of an aggrandized major harbour in the Classical world. The Severan plans at Leptis denote a reception of Trajan’s construction at Portus. The decision to implement Leptis’ harbour facilities impacted on several levels, including the construction of a marine wonder that is reminiscent of the previous Alexandrian and Roman patterns. The harbour of Leptis has a long historical tradition that was often referenced in Classical accounts.48 The port site dates back to the tenth century bc, when it was founded by the Phoenicians. It was occupied by the Carthaginians in the sixth century bc, and down to the Punic Wars in the late third century bc.49 Under Roman authority, Leptis became a major hub for the trade of olive oil, cereals and wild

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

animals with Rome. During the Imperial era, the city underwent major infrastructural changes between Augustus and Trajan.50 The city was then a major centre of the province of Africa, and it grew consistently between the first and second centuries ad.51 Later, the port city reached its zenith under the Severan principates when, during the late second and early third centuries ad, a programme of large construction plans and aggrandizing the building plan of both city and harbour was launched.52 The city became a centre of trade and commerce and the main business city of Tripolitania, especially during the late Roman period. Ancient Leptis Magna lies on a shore plain overlooking the Gulf of Syrte. The Wadi Lebda flows to the east, and the town of Al Khums lies to the west of the site.53 The earliest occupations at Leptis have been documented in excavations at the site of the Old Forum, which lies on the western side of the Wadi Lebda, close to the coast and three offshore islands. The site contains Phoenician material that is dated to the seventh century bc, and is succeeded by Punic levels dating to c. the fifth and second centuries bc.54 Surviving structures in this area developed from the first century bc onwards, and include the temples and other structures that opened onto a forum, which was trapezoidal in shape.55 The city had an urban grid layout that exploited the path of the Wadi Lebda towards the south, and a range of major public buildings were built under Augustus, Trajan and the Antonines, including arches, an amphitheatre, baths, a circus and a theatre.56 Septimius Severus promoted the enlargement of the city and ordered the construction of a new forum, basilica and temples, and also a colonnaded street, a quadrifront arch and, most importantly, a harbour.57 The harbour site is located in the east of the city and exploits the Wadi Lebda mouth. The city and the port were established on the coastal plain along the Libyan coast. The harbour was built by enclosing the islets located on the northern coast (Fig. 2.3). The harbour of Leptis, which was initially monumentalized in the Julio-Claudian phase, attests to the key role and strategic importance of this port city in the Libyan region. The earliest phase of occupation comprises a great bank located on the west side of the Wadi Lebda, which was later enlarged under Nero.58 Most of the harbour complex refers to the infrastructural programme sponsored by Septimius Severus. The gigantic plan includes the enlargement of the basin of c. 13 ha and the enclosing of the Wadi Lebda.59 The harbour was equipped with a large quay that includes the two offshore islands to the west of the Wadi Lebda, and a third to the east, thus forming a harbour mouth between the two. The construction of an additional quay then formed a second outer basin. Remains of landing-point facilities, including bollards and mooring rings, are placed along

Alexandria, Rome and Leptis Magna: Monumental Harbours

Fig. 2.3  Leptis Magna. After Keay (2016: Fig. 11). Drawing by M. Scicolone.

25

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Visualizing Harbours in the Classical World

the western and eastern quays of the inner basin, and a major lighthouse is still partly standing at the north end of the western quay. Other harbour buildings, including a range of warehouses, a temple and a signalling tower, are still visible along the eastern quay, as well as other major temples dedicated to Jupiter Dolichenus, one of which stood on the southern side of the basin, and another on the western side of the harbour, dating back to the Flavian period. In addition, the harbour complex contained a huge 220 metre-long dam that was constructed c. 2 km north of the Wadi outlet; the dam diverted the flow from the Wadi to the west of the city, thereby also preventing and controlling the sediment flowing into the harbour basin. The dam probably collapsed during the fourth century ad, causing the silting of the whole basin.60 Leptis harbour was the terminus of routes from (sub-)Saharan regions and interfaced Rome and the Mediterranean as a hub for supplying Western and Eastern markets with luxury and exotic goods. This peaked during the Severan period, when it became the main harbour of the Mediterranean during the midImperial phase. Despite continuous siltation, the harbour basin was still in use at the end of the third century AD.61

Aspects of monumentality in ancient harbours across the Mediterranean The archaeological record, and surviving Greek and Roman texts, indicate that the monumentality and technology of major hubs penetrated deeply into ancient societies of Classical antiquity. The major harbours of Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna may have provided some of the patterns and been the incubators for marine constructions as the structures that were frequently part of these complexes made use of the techniques and materials of the major Mediterranean harbours. The construction of these ‘giants of the sea’ was an innovation in the exploitation of the marine world – not a new invention. The presence of monumental harbours solved urgent problems, such as housing the growing numbers of ships and cargoes, and guaranteeing the safety of cargoes and supply, and it also developed an imagery that had been in use for at least four centuries, especially for those societies living, working and prospering in the liminal space between land and water. The patrons were kings and emperors, and also the mercantile class, who controlled the kingdom and empire respectively between the third century bc and the third century ad.62 The peak came during the first

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century ad with Claudius, who was well aware of the technologies, benefits and culture surrounding port expansions.63 But, the creation of major harbours – Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna above all – went far beyond the socio-economic and political spheres. In fact, Classical authors incorporated into their texts full accounts of the scale of and scopes for building in the sea with concrete, including symbolic details.64 This information perhaps derived, at least in part, from oral tradition and the prevailing taste of the time, which was developed by the commissioners, contractors and engineers who built the hubs of the Graeco-Roman tradition. In the context of the Hellenistic and Roman corps of planners, architects and patrons, and also artists such as engravers, mosaic-makers and sculptors, such a perception evolved into a more formal, specific and comprehensive vision, including specific apotropaic and propagandistic meanings, choice of location, alternatives for harbour and building design, sequence of construction and selection of various events and situations. The specific models and homogeneity of the fabric and construction of the marine complexes across the central and eastern Graeco-Roman world indicates an evolution over a determined period of time in such a vast geographical area. In what seems to be a common characteristic throughout the Mediterranean, port buildings and their maritime cityscapes became a source of inspiration for architects, artists and patrons, who followed the traditional plans of Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna, at least for the most characteristic architectural elements, despite their diverse layouts, locations, settings and purposes. The remarkable developments in planning and in adopting new material and advanced techniques for the construction of harbours emerged at a crucial time for both Greek and Roman civilizations. The construction, maintenance and administration of these complexes, which were developed on a monumental level from the Alexander and Ptolemy periods onwards, were crucial for the exploitation and expansion of the Mediterranean connections and maritime trade, as well as for the guaranteed supply to main cities and provinces. Such harbours, within their respective seas and regions, filled the gap in the supply of bulk commodities that were exported, imported and redistributed via Portus, Alexandria and Leptis. In fact, rulers such as Alexander the Great and Ptolemy ordered the enlargement of major harbours within the Eastern Mediterranean, and created a main hub at Alexandria – instead of multiple landing points – owing to the numerous obstacles and difficulties involved.65 Augustus, Claudius, Nero and Trajan, followed by the Severans, oversaw the construction of the largest hubs of the Mediterranean, from

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Portus to Ravenna, Fréjus, Misenum, Puteoli, Ostia and Centumcellae. Portus’ work favoured progressive engineering and inspired large hubs such as Caesare Maritima, Leptis Magna and Pompeiopolis to facilitate the commerce of the Roman trade system and long-distance connections, including along the coasts of the Middle East and North Africa, where some newly built landing points (also large in scale) were constructed at the end of the second century bc.66 New policies in the promotion of larger-scale harbours and monumental marine constructions were planned to deal with the demands and special challenges of such needs and periods. Such hubs also influenced, although on a smaller scale, the construction and completion of important, albeit smaller, harbour sites such as Ancona, Aquileia, Corinth, Fréjus, Leptiminus, Misenum, Paphos and Ravenna. The sophisticated Greek and Roman techniques used for constructing marine complexes and the major buildings associated with them boomed along with the creation, depiction, imagination, progression and visualization of major harbourscene set images between the late second century bc and the early third century ad.67 As we will see in the next section, ‘monumentality’ – Alexandria with its lighthouse, Portus with its gigantic moles and superstructures, and Leptis Magna with its great moles and warehouses – acted as a source of originality and innovation for the Graeco-Roman repertoire of harbour images and maritime cityscape iconographies. Major harbours represented the giants in the infrastructural developments that occurred during Classical antiquity. From Alexandria to Leptis Magna, including the complex at Portus, all of the harbours contained striking features of monumentality.68 Similarly, although smaller in scale and capacity, the manmade harbours of Caesarea Maritima, Marseille, Pompeiopolis, Puteoli, Tiro and Sidon had several characteristics that attest to their distinguished characters.69 Classical authors refer to the engineering process and the making of complex buildings and superstructures.70 The public architecture of ancient harbours indicates the new shift in skills and technologies of the Greeks and Romans, as these huge complexes remain unique in terms of the scale of the structures and their spatial dispositions, which depended largely on the specific needs of their cities, the import and export from these large hubs, and their setting within strategic urban centres. In the Mediterranean context, the enlargement of these monumental ports was also influenced by the natural environment and geographical locations (along rivers and lagoon embankments) that allowed for their reinforcement through consolidation and the extension of canals, moles and quays.71 The settings of these wonder harbour installations, on the other hand, favoured the construction of inner seaports that were arranged

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following the scheme of mole and quay, supported by breakwaters and harbour walls, and lighthouses and storage spaces, by extending into the sea and surrounding it with canals, communication channels and coastal settlements.72 The monumental features also reflect the status and role of the port system; facilities, monumental structures and public spaces were built near the harbour basin and in parallel with the construction of the port structures, thereby transforming the overall port complex into a monumental space that included, for example, amphitheatres, arches, bridges, a circus, palaces, storage areas and temples. The infrastructural features of port complexes, including key buildings, harbour platforms and walls, lighthouses, moles, porticoes, temples, vaulted structures and warehouses, relate to the broader urban setting by contributing to the monumentality of the hubs, including marine facade, view and harbour walls. The setting of selected monumental harbour buildings close to the port areas and their multifunctional roles also attest to their function and relevance.73 Therefore, the scale and monumentality of these great hubs justify the nature of harbour images and also testify to their later popularity as a subject within the visual repertoire. But also, from an architectural viewpoint the port complex itself had the features of a monument – the monumental buildings, such as the arches, bridges and lighthouses, as well as public and domestic spaces located in proximity to the mole and quay areas, indicate that major hubs along the Mediterranean were characterized by a range of buildings that not only served economic purposes but also shaped the waterfront and affected the coastal cities.74 Thus, in accessing ports, sailors would have come across several monumental buildings that would have affected their and other viewers’ perceptions. The harbour structures, as well being as celebratory, honorific and public and private buildings, would have looked impressive to those who approached these hubs via the Mediterranean.75 Of the structures that contributed to monumentality and later inspired the visual repertoire, the lighthouses should be noted. Relatively little is known about these structures, at least from an archaeological perspective, and there is a lack of solid evidence at both Alexandria and Portus.76 In these Mediterranean hubs, it is sometimes difficult to reconfigure features and re-evaluate the setting; however, such structures would have affected the port facade represented by the main monumental building situated along the waterfront by containing pivotal monumental and symbolic features. For instance, in the case of lighthouses, Pliny’s reference to Portus, compared with Alexandria, Ravenna and Ostia, indicates the presence of such structure and its function in keeping sailors and

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ships safe. Strabo reports the use of gigantic white stones in the construction of signalling structures at Alexandria.77 A lighthouse at Leptis was among those triumphal monuments that Septimius Severus rebuilt not only to aggrandize the harbour setting but also to reference the Trajanic programme of monumental infrastructure, marking his reditus after the campaign in Parthia.78 But, considering the difficulties of sailing and the locations of anchorages, beaches, ports of call and shelter spots across the Mediterranean, as well as the sea currents, winds and shallow waters of some of the African, Italian and Eastern shores, lighthouses were crucial for signalling major hubs and they played a pivotal role within specific regional and trans-regional port systems as they were located across these key regions.79 Such major buildings were necessary to satisfy the needs of sailors and to support landing operations in coastal areas. Also, the respective lagoon and shoreline environments of the Mediterranean coasts meant that there was a great need for such structures; moreover, these buildings, together with arches, bridges and temples within port sectors, served a key purpose, namely to demarcate the marine facade, thus making the whole harbour sector a gigantic superstructure. A standing, towering structure located, for instance, at the entrance of the Claudian harbour at Portus, or at the edge of the quay at Leptis, or on the island at the harbour mouth at Alexandria lagoon, not only impacted the general layout of the port area but also conferred a sense of enlargement to the city. Lighthouses expressed a close association with authority figures – while the lighthouse would have served as a signalling tower to facilitate navigation in proximity to the coast and indicate access to the port, it also represented the ruler’s authority as an expression of power and an indication of his continuous presence.80 These lighthouses were not only structures but also elements that characterized the monumental vista of the port area. Assuming that all these hubs were sponsored by the main authority (e.g. Ptolemy at Alexandria, Claudius and Trajan at Portus, and Septimius Severus at Leptis Magna), thereby also expressing an association with emperors and rulers, the presence of such a structure would have reassured visitors and residents of the favour and benevolence of the imperial authority.81 These towering structures, together with landing stages, storage spaces and public and honorific buildings, shaped these cities and highlighted the status of these hubs, which then served as primary sources for the harbour images in visual media. Of the monumental buildings situated along the waterfront in these major hubs of the pan-Mediterranean region, harbour walls, moles and quays, and also well-preserved arches, temples and warehouses, such as those of Septimius

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Severus at Portus and Leptis Magna, played a central role.82 The arch represents an important marker that attests to the setting of the mole, but this building would have also been provided with a monumental vista visible to those entering or landing at these ports. This building was likely visible when approaching the port from both the south and the north, since the mole and quays stretch towards the harbour basin or open sea; this means that such buildings, including arch and mole, constituted key elements of the marine facade. The commissioning of the building would have emphasized that the emperor, ruler or mercantileclass member were not only the main sponsors but also patrons who were dedicated to improving the infrastructure, especially at Alexandria, Portus and Leptis.83 The unprecedented monumentality of such buildings implies that the construction of this harbour was an action of real foresight. This use of such superlative foresight was the best way to pay homage to the ruler, thanking him for his involvement and describing his qualities.84 Often in marine contexts, titles and inscriptions indicate access to the land, such as for those coming from the east to Portus and Leptis Magna, and from the west to Alexandria, Caesarea Maritime and Corinth. All these were ideal gateways to Athens, Carthage, Rome and the core of the Mediterranean. In this regard, the rulers favoured the improvement of dedicated cities and connections. The arch, bridge and lighthouse were important buildings that marked the entrance to Greece and Italy via the Mediterranean routes, and their construction implies that kings and princeps would have privileged the key locations of the greatest ports within the region. Also, arches at Ancona, Portus and Leptis Magna stand out for their presence in a liminal space at the edge of the mole area,85 and their presence here implies that this was a sort of marine gate providing access to the main cities. This would also have emphasized the renovation of the port and the monumentality of the marine facade. Buildings that served as storage areas, including porticoes and warehouses at Alexandria, Ostia, Portus and Leptis Magna, as well as storage spaces located along the waterfront, had a significant impact on the imagination and view of the sailors and mariners. The adventus via sea, rather than via terrestrial routes, in places (especially in Roman Italy, but also Hellenistic Egypt, the Phoenician Middle East and Libya) would have strikingly affected people’s perceptions and views as the construction commissioned during Classical antiquity radically altered the appearance of these centres, and these improvements affected the marine area.86 The view of the marine facade – the line of the waterfront consisting of signalling buildings, the public and monumental buildings, arches, bridges, porticoes and storage spaces – likely held a certain appeal for the sailors.

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Some other buildings, including amphitheatres, theatres and bridges, were situated (in most cases in the Mediterranean) along the coast, near the port facilities. Several amphitheatres built on the side of the harbour basin look directly towards the harbour basin and, sometimes, are close to the entrance of the river port; such major structures are recurrently situated near the mole and lighthouse, while the monumental bridge and temple are often aligned with the quay. Similarly, at Leptis the amphitheatre is located on the seaside and close to the Arch of Septimius Severus, which stood along the mole.87 Therefore, in these contexts we note an urban pattern denser than that at other port cities owing not only to imperial sponsorship and the support of local magistracies and the mercantile class but also to the well-organized construction plan that accentuated features of monumentality and the visual impact of the marine facade. These combined buildings, together with the warehouses, quay-mole structures and lighthouses, characterized the entrance to the city for those coming from the sea. While approaching the cities via terrestrial routes, visitors and locals would have noted the presence of arches, bridges and roads, but entering the city from the sea would have been more awe-inspiring. Seamen would have noted the monumentality of the key Mediterranean cities, the long quays facing the sea and, in the background, the amphitheatre, bridges, port facilities and great private buildings. Therefore, mooring along the quay would have also allowed for a broader view of all the other key constructions. Anchoring their ships to the quay of a Mediterranean port after seeing the key buildings and the marine facades, sailors would surely have appreciated the considerable presence of urban buildings and majestic private houses and administrative spaces in the proximity of the port area. These buildings are indicative of the wealth and the role of these harbour cities as their location, spread and layout differ from those of other territories. The Mediterranean administrative and corporate buildings mainly date to the Imperial period, with a phase of slight decline (attested by the archaeological evidence) from the midthird century ad onwards.88 Literary sources are almost silent on these spaces. Some arguable details, however, can be partly inferred from epigraphic evidence which emphasizes the ‘greatness’ of storage rooms. Such evidence refers to the connection between prosperity and the trans-regional economic activities.89 Archaeological evidence indicates that substantial architecture was present in Mediterranean waterfronts. Their scale emphasizes their importance and level of sophistication, as these buildings attest to wider attempts to construct monumental harbour cities during Classical antiquity. At Alexandria, these monumental structures near the port areas were located between the Great Harbour and the

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Old Port; similarly, Portus’ buildings were located within the Tiber sector near the port area, and huge warehouses exceeded the norms of infrastructure in the ancient world.90 The overall picture is coherent owing to recent fieldwork, and the available evidence suggests that capital coastal cities of the Mediterranean exceed trans-regional norms and belong to the category of imperial and major harbours in terms of size.91 Of course, the size cannot be compared with the major hubs, but their features nonetheless seem to emulate those in other pan-Mediterranean contexts. However, it should be kept in mind that it is not possible to demonstrate with certainty that Mediterranean port structures were always larger than those from the other coastline centres and hinterlands.92 The harbour constructions within port cities outnumbered those located in the hinterland of the Mediterranean in terms of concrete used, materials, distribution and density, and exceeded in terms of wealth and decoration those in the rest of the seaborne empires of Classical antiquity; for instance, luxury and monumentality is suggested by building features and decorations that reveal characteristics of the owners and their milieu, and by expensive building materials, multiple administrative spaces, rooms, luxurious decorations, public areas and mosaic pavements.93 Remains of frescoes and stucco in the buildings that are closer to the port area also indicate a link between prosperity, major harbours, trade and seafaring activities.94 Certainly one can hypothesize that some of these were promoted by members of the mercantile class who were involved in shipping, trading, shipbuilding, commerce and ceramic production – they managed their capital and invested their profits in lucrative activities, and dealt in trading and exporting products from the hinterland.95 Epigraphic materials that indirectly mention the presence of sailors and merchants suggest a potential complex of properties and sectors.96 The inscriptions often mention the name of freedmen involved in trade, but also veterans of the Greek and Roman fleets. The last wills and names of the owners are sometimes recorded, while in some cases the memberships of guilds and corporations of workers and donations are also mentioned. The funerary inscriptions, for instance, attest to the deceased person’s donation of their spaces to manumitted slaves and relatives, and also the portion of future incomes to be donated to the corporation.97 Other monuments with dedicatory inscriptions, and which were found and likely situated in a domestic context, served to honour the role of patrons in multiple civic communities, sometimes emphasizing these roles but also indicating the public and private character of the harbour buildings.98 The inscriptions refer to the decorative appearance of the structures but also to the munificent activity of the patron in sponsoring the reconstruction of the temple and construction of

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storage spaces.99 The buildings used as spaces for public and high-class visitors suggest the multiple functions of the wealthiest coastal centres of the Mediterranean. The places indicate the monumental, luxurious and even exotic taste of the owners and sponsors. The splendid frescoes, mosaics and pavement decorations illustrate the wealth and status of the seamen and seafarers who lived and operated across the Mediterranean. The harbour buildings include artworks depicting maritime scenes and votive elements, together with rich materials used to improve the sophistication of the public and private spaces. The decor of the spaces likely derives from the economic power and the wide-ranging connections of the owners, who had relationships and trading links which allowed them to enrich their rooms, offices and spaces within the port area. Moreover, the tendency to stress the dignity and the luxury of one’s own residence was a matter of prestige during the Hellenistic and Imperial periods along the Mediterranean, and was a way to emphasize one’s own status and the building’s location within the port area, as can be noted at Portus, Ostia, etc.100 Classical authors seem to indicate that access to these buildings was attested during this phase, when customers, locals, patrons and seamen would have accessed these major spaces and used them for various corporate, administrative and commercial or social purposes.101 These great houses and spaces were part of a wider built environment in these major hubs. This was the case in Portus, Ostia, Alexandria and Leptis, where these urban buildings contributed to the monumentality of the marine facade.102 The port and the urban centre largely depended on the mole and quay, storage areas and road networks as the construction of further monumental buildings architecturally represented the trait-d’union between port and city. In summary, the spatial arrangement of the infrastructure (both urban and maritime) commissioned by the elite and mercantile classes would have certainly given a sense of the size, scale and urban organization of the harbour to any passing sailors, with a major emphasis on the monumentality of these hubs. This confirms the relevance of the form and scale of some key representative major hubs of the Mediterranean, in view of their layout and setting within their urban and panurban contexts. These complex harbours, which were built to exploit the river, lagoon and shore banks within an inner water basin and watercourses, and which had a series of quays, mole and breakwater, provide the sense of scale and the nature, size and categories of the structures, all of which impacted on the senses and emotions and inspired the iconographic repertoire of port images.103 The size and scale of port facilities, public, private and monumental buildings (including lighthouses, arches and porticoes) stressed the monumentality of the port cities and the connections between harbours, urban spaces and viewers, all of which

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inspired the production of maritime representations, as we will see in the next section.

Monumentality as a source of inspiration and a programmatic model for triumphal imagery Architectural monumentality has always been an awe-inspiring element and served as a pattern for celebrating power and triumph in ancient imagery. Major hubs, with their characteristic liminal giants, were among the primary sources for the artistic reproductions of the natural environment and cultural imagination in Classical antiquity. In ancient iconography, Mediterranean ports were recorded as formed by monumental key buildings and represented through celebratory architectural wonders, including lighthouses, quays and major storage spaces. Monumentality in the ancient world forms a unique element of the programmatic pattern of port iconography and repertoire – this is a central element that frames all harbour representations.104 The perception of monumental maritime buildings as wonders also contains an element that relates to the magnificence and wealth of the structures. The ancient marine monuments, as often represented in the visual sphere, were represented by artists and patrons through an interpretation of the contemporary and former fame of the buildings.105 The representations illustrate the desire to celebrate the wealth of the structures, and therefore contribute to the formation of new plans, or to record maritime life and port activities, or to stress the monumental character of the structures in order to emphasize economic, political and social claims. Monumentality impacts on all these aspects and contributes to artists’, commissioners’ and viewers’ development, production and reception of the harbour representations. The depictions of the key features of a harbour complex, which focus on monumentality in the first instance, also include multiple messages and meanings. The monumentality of a harbour complex offers material for the visual sphere and provides new information on imperial policy relating to promoting, restoring and building port structures across this region. Artists and commissioners, who were actively involved both in sponsoring the constructions and recording the results of these works, shaped symbolic references to the major hubs in these paintings.106 Artists, engravers, mosaic makers, painters and sculptors, principally those from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods, played a large role in exploring, observing and reproducing the evidence of the Mediterranean ports, and

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represented, with varying degrees of thoroughness, the features of the harbours. They used new ways to represent buildings, and they portrayed maritime cityscapes together with their own infrastructures. These representations concern examples from Rome, Leptis Magna and Alexandria, but they also go far beyond these and focus on both typical and atypical structures, for example ports from a regional and trans-regional context such as those from the Adriatic, Aegean, Black and Levantine Seas. These artworks, which were commissioned by diverse figures, including emperors, kings, patrons, rulers and members of the mercantile class, and wealthy traders, demonstrate the expansion of the repertoire from portraying monuments (e.g. temples) to portraying maritime cityscapes and the celebratory and propagandistic purposes behind these.107 The representations of harbourscapes in Graeco-Roman art focused on specific architectural patterns.108 Favourite subjects, which had features of monumentality, were lighthouses, porticoes, storage spaces, quays, harbour walls and sometimes, although more rarely, moles. All of these were often depicted on coins, frescoes, mosaics and reliefs.109 Coins, in particular, were the most common medium for representing these subjects, and, because of their wider circulation and production, played an important role in the transmission and perception of monumental harbour buildings.110 However, such media did not allow for representations of cityscapes and wider scenes, as was achievable with frescoes, mosaics, sculptural friezes and wall paintings. The decision to represent harbours using the latter form provided greater opportunities for artists to portray marine cityscapes and individual buildings. Ports became, especially from the first century bc onwards, a widely represented subject in several media, from coins and reliefs to mosaics.111 The representations of ancient ports allowed artists to enrich knowledge of the Mediterranean territory by allowing observes to explore new ways of comparing and viewing the ports’ layouts and organization. In these art forms, ports were represented within their urban setting and depicted with temples, sanctuaries and religious details, such as events, daily life and votive offerings. Such representations also imply a visualization of life and offer a record of perceptions, which demonstrates the changes and progressions in client and viewer perceptions during the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. Historical events influenced the expanded construction of port buildings and also the production of visual materials that provide historical, narrative and political information.112 Thus, the ancient port was perceived not only as a structure to be recorded for celebratory and propagandistic purposes but also as an element which could be used to support social, economic and cultural ones.

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Harbours along the Mediterranean were commonly depicted during Classical antiquity. The available artistic evidence illustrates how Hellenistic and Roman harbours were imagined, represented and also visualized. The monumental structures were depicted either to celebrate their magnificence after restoration works, as in the case of Trajan’s Column, or simply to record these places as privileged, as in the case of the Nile mosaic and the Esquilino and Gragnano paintings, or to emphasize the glory and the tradition of the past, as in the Latium and Campanian paintings and frescoes from Ostia, Pompeii and Rome.113 The meaning of these representations remains central to developing the argument concerning how, in antiquity, ports and harbour facilities were intended to be received by Greeks and Romans, and how their fame was then bequeathed. Similarly, maritime villas and coastal centres were recurrent themes and were included within the narrative repertoire of harbourscape depictions, thus showing a combination and integration of different elements of the marine cosmos. The earliest evidence for the representations of triumphal harbour monuments within Alexandria, Leptis and Rome comes from selected case studies and consists of a range of buildings elaborated to mark the development of great hubs after the successful completion of the construction process. For the port images, the criteria for inclusion are: geographical locations – all are from the centre of the Mediterranean Sea and are located in the most populated areas, centres and markets of this macro-region; the particular status of the harbour cities in the Graeco-Roman era; the size of the harbours, and their links to an urban centre; their presence in epigraphical, literary and historical accounts; and literary references to their seafaring activities and navigational routes. By exploiting the evidence for economy and population during Classical antiquity, the visual evidence securely depicts influence coming from harbours at Alexandria, Portus and Leptis, and directly associates it with emperors, patrons, rulers and seamen.114 This close association suggests the subject of the elements that adorned the harbour images – the evidence of art directly illustrates that the multistorey levels and extended towers, quays, piers, moles and jetties associated with a port were often key components of the infrastructural works. The use of selected harbour scenes as decoration in private spaces (such as houses, villas and palaces) and public spaces (such as squares and temples), and created through various media, was common in Classical antiquity, particularly from the second century bc onwards.115 These artists, elite and patrons, in the multiple meaning of these images, invested in high-quality decorations and representations. Images were executed in enclosed spaces, in portable elements

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and in funerary contexts, as well as in highly visible areas. Houses and villas in particular hosted the most sophisticated and probably expensive paintings with harbour subjects. Sarcophagi received similar treatment, and sometimes the stone allowed for more advanced schemes.116 Representations from public and private spaces involved larger and more expensive material, and they also offered more developed representations, richer iconographic elements and narrative interpretations. The hybrid sphere, which includes both private and public spaces, relates to portable elements; these were essential items, such as coins, oil lamps or flasks, but were also central to and a vital part of the decorative scheme visible in other domestic and civic environments. Harbours’ values are indexes of the inspiration and taste during a boom phase in the development of marine-landscape representations. A new cultural identity emerged incorporating contributions from the marine world, including exotic and indigenous elements, but also expressing the Mediterranean taste for the emergence of Alexandria, Athens and Rome as maritime superpowers. During Classical antiquity, these themes grew and developed in such media, and there was a trend of reusing and redefining old patterns together with new formulae.117 Alexandria, therefore, provided an unrivalled model for inspiration for maritime images, but then Portus and (slightly later) Leptis matched the advancement of what was happening during a phase of crucial importance in the history of Mediterranean representation forms. Maritime cityscapes and villas, with their satellite ports, also relate to the repertoire of harbour images and contain striking features that reconfigure them within the context of harbour complexes and maritime landscapes.118 Although the differences between real maritime environments and the proper harbour scenes are noticeable, some of the scenes also include elements that reconnect them to the harbourscape theme, and further stress the symbolic elements explored in this monograph. In summary, the selected case studies denote that the three harbour cities’ patterns influenced the production of symbolic images, although these do not necessarily reproduce the specific harbour complexes. Decorations, paintings, sculptures and friezes illustrate the typological evolution across a large chronological timeline, given the existence of different subjects and the variations of themes as part of a single programme.119 Several elements within the port representations are indebted to earlier structures and places, and inspiration coming from existing superstructures should be considered by examining the surviving artworks. The images explored below (mosaics and paintings) highlight how harbour environments (their monumentality and structures) affected, inspired and became central to the repertoire of maritime-landscape visualization.

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Nile Mosaic (Palestrina) Two huge Hellenistic mosaics from the sanctuary of Fortune at Praeneste, the modern Palestrina, dating to the last quarter of the second century bc (c. 120– 110 bc) contains details of maritime and riverine representation genres.120 Although these do not directly relate to an iconographic example of a monumental harbour scene, they mark the beginning of an artistic programme that also incorporates elements of port and maritime life. The two mosaics depict a seascape with water full of diverse types of fish and marine life, and these quasi-illustrative archetypes indicate a model based on the view of an Alexandrian and exotic environment of Egypt.121 This representation of a Nilotic context, which measures c. 4.31 × 5.38 m, depicts the delta environment, river affluents and several tributaries, and a rich landscape comprising marine and riverine settlements built along its course (Fig. 2.4).122 The structures refer to riverine and quasi-maritime environments, as suggested by the visible range of colonnaded porticoes, platform structures and walled quay constructions, but this is also indicated by galleys and vessels that do not merely show the transportation of people and goods but also attest to the marine life and navigability of the harbourscape.123 The representation is a prototype of a theme visible in several Alexandrian illustrations, and it is perhaps one of the first attempts to portray and record the lagoon, semi-riverine and harbour side. The Nile mosaic depicts a bird’s-eye view of the main Egyptian river delta, shown ‘ideally’ from its sources to the mouth. The upper section presents mountains and hilly landscapes, presumably from Ethiopia, populated by a large number of exotic and wild animals, which are identified by their Greek names; in the lower section, waters spread out, suggesting the flooding of the Nile, an event that was largely celebrated in Egypt.124 Obelisks, pylons, priests, temples, round structures and small islands are represented, and the riverine and marine elements contain embankments, harbour walls, etc. The water is full of boats, from small dug-outs to galleys and large merchant ships that flank the quay platforms, indicating naïve harbour life. The arched structure, the vaults of which have been also interpreted as ship-sheds, emphasizes the allusive context of this representation as an inspiring depiction of a maritime environment and harbourscape.125 Moreover, priests and soldiers gathered under the pergola and portico also serve as reminders of the ceremonial procession and religious rituals. But, the building stands at the end of a quay or mole structure, running parallel to the body of water which large ships are navigating – the ritual procession or gathering of soldiers (approaching through a kiosk and perhaps transporting sacred items) and other

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people relates to the activities and setting of a harbour front sector, where multiple and diverse activities are carried out. Although the mosaic has long been associated with riverine contexts, and this remains valid, the lower sector contains several attributes connected to a harbour setting.126 The human figures are depicted in a sketchy fashion, sometimes like silhouettes, thus producing a peculiar impressionistic sense and keeping the focus on the environment and structures. While the upper part has been generally associated with the expedition towards the source of the Nile by Ptolemy II in 280 bc, which explains the wild animals and exotic contexts and appearance of indigenous populations, the lower part contains traditional details from Egypt in its Nilotic and Alexandrian contexts, a scene that will become very common in later Roman art and that denotes a clear reception of Hellenistic art patterns and contains motifs relating to connection routes and seafaring activities. Scholars generally identify this mosaic with the idealized context of the Nile delta, and the association is understandable. Dunbabin points out that the mosaic is a key example of mosaics from the Hellenistic tradition, imported to Italy by Greek artists, possibly from Alexandria and following original patterns.127 Meyboom suggests that the

Fig. 2.4  Nile mosaic, Temple of the Fortune, Palestrina. MAN Prenestino. Pedicini NS 769.

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mosaic depicts structures that may be associated with the Temple of Fortuna (Isis-Tyche), but it is difficult to highlight the religious functions of the building, although the ritual element and temple association are valid.128 The view of Alexandria after the flooding of the Nile functions as a reminder of riverine and harbour life, though in a very idyllic and exotic manner and with little detail of intense port life; in fact, the mosaic, strangely, does not include buildings logically associated with the Alexandrian context, such as the monumental lighthouse, but instead evokes deities’ protection and the prosperity brought by the Nile to human and economic lives. This is probably an earlier version of what later becomes the repertoire of harbour scenes from the Republican and early Imperial periods. The scene does not want to stress the chaotic atmosphere of a busy harbour city; instead, apart from the religious and ritual implications, it wants to record the calmness and the equilibrium of a developed, but still harmonious and protected, natural port environment.

Oplontis Villa Painting (Torre Annunziata) A Second-Style wall painting, which measures c. 1.60 x 0.60 m, occupies the lunette of the north alcove in cubiculum 11 of the Oplontis villa.129 It probably dates to the mid-first century bc, c. 50–40 bc. The original painting is badly damaged and missing its original features (Fig. 2.5).130 The harbour image depicts a maritime landscape, and a large part of the imagery is formed by a number of buildings surmounting a platform of lands and piers. The harbour scene contains a colonnade, curving from left to lower right, a statue on a tall base at the lower left, and port structures that continue to the arched top of the panel. Blue and green pigments are combined with porphyry red, yellow and green for middle tones, and white is used for highlights. The centre background consists of a portal formed by deep square moles that frame a door with a supporting triglyph frieze. Another piece of architecture supported by a single column fills in the triangular area to its left, while to the right an open platform stretches towards the middle of the lunette, where there is a body of water. The tower is connected to the wall circuit, which is punctuated by three square turrets – these are visible in the background of the image and in the centre of the lunette. The portal belongs to a large rounded tower that rises in the middle, and architectonic elements, such as additional turrets, towers and walls, in the middle-ground in the centre of the lunette’s curve culminate in a final square tower placed in the right foreground. There is also a tetrastyle temple that culminates in the final middle-ground tower. Both the towers and walls represent innovative architectonic aspects in late

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Republican Italy, although these might be inspired by Hellenistic patterns, as also observed by Clarke, whereby walls with turrets are an architectonic innovation brought to Italy in the fourth and third centuries bc.131 Human figures are also a central element of the harbourscape representation.132 Male and female figures are depicted on the platform of land on both sides of the foreground, with the sole exception of the two sailors who are depicted rowing in the middle ground. At far left, a woman turns her back to a figure who carries an item over the wall that extends from the left mole of the portal. Another woman raises both arms to the viewer on her right, on the left-hand side of the lunette. Clarke argues that a woman stepping in front of a door was a popular theme in Second-Style painting, at least until the Hadrianic period.133 The woman is moving from the door to another group of women on her right. These women greet another woman who faces them while standing on the mole and stretching out her arms to them, and a togated man has his back to this group of women. The significance of greeting and meeting people in the liminal space of the harbour who are apparently absorbed and distracted by their own thoughts is unclear. It might relate to departures, detachment and leaving, although this would be more clearly expressed by depicting some large ships in the foreground. As such, it more likely fits with a sense of amazement and amusement concerning the paradisiac environment of the harbourscape and the full enjoyment of life.134 In addition, details of figures gesturing and standing by structures that include colonnades and pavilions, and also of men sailing and the acts of greeting and talking, reconnect these landscapes to the early Hellenistic and Alexandrian traditions. In this regard, another male togated figure stands on the platform, with his arm raised, announcing something to or claiming the attention of two women who are walking towards a third person, who is dressed in a short tunic and also raises their arm. Another fisherman is sitting on the edge of the harbour quay. In the centre of the foreground, a small boat contains two fishermen, and this, together with the green and blue colour of the water, is the only evidence of the harbour basin, but this seems to extend over the wall that is visible in the background. One figure is standing, while pulling a net, and the other is sitting and rowing. The image is rendered from the perspective of the viewer, and its purpose is to highlight the seaport and the lively life of its inhabitants and the harbour. The Oplontis image depicts a rounded harbour basin enclosed by walls. This is an innovative iconographic subject for the time. Clarke proposes close analogies with the Nile mosaic from Palestrina, owing to the characteristic elements of a colonnaded structure, human figures, moles, fishermen on the quay of the harbour and a combination of architectural and seascape details.135

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Fig. 2.5  Oplontis villa painting, Pompeii. Drawing by M. Scicolone.

The Palestrina mosaic has been forwarded as a representative pattern for the Oplontis image, although, as also rightly argued by Clarke, the latter does not fit with the exotic Nilotic environment of the seascape mosaic.136 Oplontis has also been reconfigured as a harbour landscape with promontories through the combination of building and landscape elements that form the scene.

Navalia (Pompeii) The navalia paintings were found at Pompeii.137 They are three separate panels of an original Second-Style wall painting, and they are now preserved in the National Archaeological Museum of Naples (MAN 8603, 8604, 1172).138 MAN 8603 measures c. 0.73 x 102 cm. The fresco dates to the second half of the first century bc and depicts warship prows inside a series of arched openings, which have been interpreted as navalia or ship-sheds (Fig. 2.6). Two of the vessels clearly show oar-boxes with ports arranged in a diagonal line at three different levels. These have usually been interpreted as navalia but, as for similar representations, it is particularly hazardous to name what is portrayed in the Pompeii fresco as ship-shed. Coarelli, Basch and De Franciscis saw in the diagonal features below the oar boxes structures to host the ships inside the navalia, but this painting could also be a representation of a ship within a vaulted framework. As already seen for the Gragnano painting in the case of the arch on the mole, in this case too it is possible that an architectonic detail is not a representation of a specific structure and place, but instead works only as a decorative motif of ships anchored at the harbour. Similarly the same motif appears on the wall painting of the Casa delle Nozze d’Argento, though in this case the arches, as proposed by Blackman and Rankov, are part of a more general architectonic pattern.139 Whether or not this image directly depicts a ship-shed

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Fig. 2.6  Navalia painting, MAN Naples, Inv. 8603. Getty Images.

complex, given that the ships and the motif of vaulted and arched elements were used very frequently in port representations, it undoubtedly refers to structures pertaining to the harbour infrastructures. Of course it may well also be in this case that columns may appear as an artistic convention within the port, but it is worth noticing that such arcaded pilasters were frequently employed in harbour or marine landscape images; such elements framed an important amount of scenes, but although these may not refer entirely to ship-shed, they surely derived from Hellenistic patterns of the maritime world. This predominant leitmotif of a harbour context was not necessarily inspired by the Roman reality, but rather by what was visible around the harbour environment. Other mosaics have been interpreted as depicting ship-sheds. The first evidence is a bi-chrome mosaic found along the via Ardeatina, Rome, dating to the first century bc.140 It depicts a set of ships within a frame of arched structures, with the top of the vault provided with a roof. Near Rome, at the church of Santa Maria Maggiore in Lanuvio, another bi-chrome mosaic presents a crenellated vaulted structure as representing either a harbour wall fortification or possibly a ship-shed-like element, since these arches, according to Blackman, may also have hosted ships.141 Pompeii domus feature also plenty of probable navalia

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depictions, as displayed in the Casa del Citarista and in the Casa del Marinaio, where mosaics from the early first century ad seem to represent a set of ships with portending rows hosted within arched and roofed structures.142 This mosaic theme can be read as a representation of ship-sheds, which scholars have interpreted as those of Rome, Baia, Puteoli or Misenum; but also in this case, the impressionistic iconography and the vague context of this type of scenes make doubtful the hypothesis that these vaulted structures represented the setting of a specific harbour. What it is likely instead is that this motif evokes an indeterminate harbour landscape: in this case the ship prows predominate in the scene and the vaulted structures, as well as their roofs and columns, are decorative elements that did not prevent the artist from idealizing an element of the harbour landscape. The view of the scene, whether realistic or not, had immediately to convey to the viewers the spirit of the harbour, with anchored ships, sheds, and architectural decorations relevant to a port context.

Miscellanea of Latium and Campania Paintings (Rome, Pompeii) A painting located along Corridor F of the Farnesina villa at Rome, also known as MAN 1233, depicts a harbourscape with a villa and fishing harbour, thus presenting a model for the uses of a harbour landscape. It is a model of Secondand Third-Style painting, dating from 20 bc (Fig. 2.7).143 The painting, which has a white background, highlights the different activities of harbour life and actors. The painting depicts a scene including trees, temples, harbour workers and fishermen, as well as monumental harbour structures. The image depicts a man bending over some task on a rock on the left, an angler drawing in his line with a fish wriggling on the end, and a woman tying a fillet to one of the columns of the villa’s porch. The painting is distinguished by its quick, sketchy quality, with bold juxtaposition of dark and light to suggest volume. The landscape is framed by a portico, and monumental architecture is solidly displayed in the foreground. The harbourscape follows Vitruvius’ recommendations on the variety of actions and buildings and in the innovative decorative frame that transforms the image from being a continuous landscape into a series of different views, focusing alternatively on harbour activities and idyllic representations of daily life, cult practices and entertainment. The painting of the Farnesina villa seems to suggest that the harbour landscape itself and the surrounding buildings are the centre of attention; the actors are not of primary importance, as these come from a scene showing everyday life.144 The Farnesina fresco depicts porticoes, harbour walls and coasts, as well as actors, trees and gardens, and people sailing and fishing,

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Fig. 2.7  Port scene painting, Villa Farnesina, Rome. MAN ‘Palazzo Massimo alle Terme’ Rome, Inv. 1233.

therefore, it depicts a harbour landscape, with much of the foreground imagery consisting of a variety of buildings and actors standing on platforms, piers and the land.145 On the lower left, a statue that is reminiscent of Poseidon/Neptune stands on a rock, while, on the right, there is a promontory with two columns – perhaps part of the pronao of a temple – and two fishermen. The metaphor of harbour life is therefore expressed in an intimate setting – the painting offers to the observer topia in which the harmonic rhythm of the maritime landscape differs from and contrasts with the busy activity of the harbour or the turmoil of economic life. These motifs are interpreted here as representing inspiring landscapes and as models taken from ports and events during the Hellenistic and Roman troubles and wars. Such a pattern is frequently visible in Pompeian frescoes, in which water basins and/or harbour facades dominate, and are a central element. This is visible in another painting from Gragnano, which depicts a marine environment or seaside villa, one two-storey structure and three winged structures with statues along the water basin, and also a range of buildings behind a quay with changing orientations, and people and sailors depicted in strokes ranging from light to dark. This attests to the extent of the harbour town, which may have been inspired by environments such as Ostia and Puteoli.146 The Casa della Fontana Piccola at Pompeii contains a huge peristyle which hosted large Fourth-Style wall paintings. On the southern wall, a fresco, which measures c. 2.41 x 4.21 m, depicts a harbour and marine landscape. It dates to the mid-first century ad, c. ad 40–60 (Fig. 2.8).147 On a strip of land to the left, there is a fisherman and a number of people standing as they meet and greet one another. In the background, there is a temple and a main building, which Peters interprets as a maritime villa, with a curvilinear ground plan and shut in by columns. However, the setting of the scene seems to depict architectural elements

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pertaining to a harbour environment, including moles, a water basin and columned porticoes. On the right, a tower, a high wall, a well-made round tower and a lightly rounded portico characterize the mole along the harbour basin and the bay. The tower near the harbour mouth seems to be destroyed at the top, or perhaps is just unroofed. The inner part of the basin contains buildings placed beside the harbour walls. Next to the porticoes, there is a huge building, which has been identified as a warehouse by Lehmann-Hartleben, and as a maritime villa by Peters;148 however, elements that indicate a port environment are still visible, such as the peninsula in the middle of the water basin (connected with the tongue of land depicted on the left) and the structure forming an arch oriented towards the water, as well as the area illustrated in the foreground that includes a pier or bridge structures. The small peninsula hosts a portico and a rotunda. The lower section of the strip of land has been connected with an elongated podium on which there is a portico and another round tower. The actors depicted in the foreground include a man walking on the bridge and two figures in front of the podium. The bridge connects the inland with the peninsula, and a harbour worker walks across it, carrying a load on his shoulder. On the left side, there is an imposing building that might be interpreted as a villa or as a narrow-space representation of the section of a harbour town. Bushes and trees are depicted in front of the tetrastyle gate of the porticoed building. In addition, there is a pentastyle temple and a set of structures within a wood environment.149 In this area, actors hold a club and cups and other ceramic containers, likely

Fig. 2.8  Casa della Fontana Piccola painting, Pompeii. Regio VI, Ins. VIII 23–4. Pedicini HR 994.

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indicating a votive offering or a ritual context. On the water, there is a rowing boat and, in the foreground, a ship, which clearly confirms the purpose of the scene. The harbour image is depicted in an impressionistic style, as the perspective is inconsistent, and the naïve taste of the scene is also characteristic of the imagining of a harbour surrounded by an idyllic landscape, and not a feature of a mere representation of a villa or coastal town arrangement. Features of the image have prompted debate over its interpretation, especially the architectonic elements of the harbour complex. For instance, the roofed tower, which has open spaces near its top, has been viewed as a lighthouse by Thiersch, as a harbour sacral space by Lehmann-Hartleben and as a dwelling by Peters, taking into account the presence of a huge green space.150 However, there has been very little argument about the reality of the image; in fact, Picard alone has imagined a Latium and Campanian environment for the scene.151 Neither the scene nor the reality has been fully addressed – the presence of moles, a huge water basin and a boat suggest not only a maritime villa but also a harbour, though limited in space and context, and also the reality cannot be determined at all since the depiction of a real place is not the purpose of this wall painting. The buildings in the core of the scene are pink and red, with brown for shadows, while the background is blue and grey.152 The environment is painted skillfully, and the figures are multicoloured and slightly larger in size when compared to the harbour buildings. These aspects attest to the narrative scope and limit the composition and execution of the whole scene, therefore marking the inconsistency of the picture. The Latium and Campanian coasts, and the bays of the Tyrrhenian Sea, certainly might have influenced both the repertoire and the skilful master who made the painting (Fig. 2.9);153 however, there is insufficient evidence to argue for a full harbour representation of a real harbour town. On the other hand, the domestic context, the setting of the painting and the elements depicted suggest this is more than a simple attempt to depict harbour and maritime life. Also, in this case, the inspirational model from the Campanian coast is just an excuse to convey a message that is more related to the idyllic and gracious environment of maritime and port life. Painting MAN 9460, which measures c. 0.19 x 0.36 m, also depicts a harbour landscape (Fig. 2.10).154 The harbour is semicircular, and the portico mole is decorated with a statue. The arched mole stretches over the sea and encloses the body of water of the inner harbour. The fresco has features similar to other Pompeian paintings from the maritime landscapes’ repertoire, including a semicircular colonnaded portico, a row of windows and two small doors. On its

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Fig. 2.9  Naples painting, MAN Naples, Inv. 9414. Pedicini MN 915.

left-hand edge, this huge building has a large window, and a rectilinear portico with an arched door on its front. A range of portico structures surmount the mole and convey the sense of monumentality and a maritime landscape. The visual impact of the image is also enhanced by a ship with square sails that is manoeuvring and navigating towards the open sea. The harbour basin is of great interest as this is also visible in the rounded shape of the Oplontis picture, this is evident in the arched mole and portico with columns, and the semicircular basin is also surrounded by arches, bridges, columns and porticoes. In such a painting, apart from the rendering of a huge water basin and rowing ships caught in the act of moving, the arched portico marks the edge of the harbour. A building with a reclining roof is visible at the top, and, on its edge, there are two tower structures contoured against a background of trees and bushes – hills or mountains are visible in the background, while actors stand and sit in front of the same building.155

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Fig. 2.10  Pompeii painting, MAN Naples, Inv. 9460. Pedicini MN 904.

Painting MAN 9484, which measures c. 0.22 x 0.46 m, depicts a port with a monumental mole adorned with statues and equipped with porticoed structures, perhaps warehouses, and disposed on multiple levels (Fig. 2.11).156 It depicts a maritime landscape, which is arranged in a similar way to that seen at Gragnano, and includes ships that sail over a body of water (some with rowers), building structures overlooking a harbour basin, and trees that are visible in the background. On the left, a strip of land stretches over the sea, which is well delimited with walls, colonnaded buildings (small shrines?), a group of dwellings or port residences and, finally, a long columned portico which flanks the bank. Another set of buildings is visible in the foreground, as well as a singular structure that seems to have a gateway (?) and a large door arch surmounted by a triangular tympanum. The latter faces a squared area that opens onto a bank and is bordered on the bottom edge by a long building with a flat roof, doors and a mezzanine that is situated in front of this building. Facing this complex of buildings, there is a statue lying on a pilaster – the door arch connects to a five-arched mole, under whose vault passes a ramp, and it is also characterized by the following two ‘doors’, of which one is decorated by a tympanum and decoration motifs, and the other only by statues. On the two ‘parapets’ of the mole, there is a row with statues placed at regular intervals. Compared to Gragnano, this Pompeian pattern does not seem to replicate a real harbour-town environment, but rather the monumental entrance to a huge maritime villa as viewed from the sea. This is also suggested by three other factors: first, this makes the image ‘flat’, whereby the basin behind the mole, as well as the first row of buildings, is barely visible; second, this is a different way

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Fig. 2.11  Pompeii painting, MAN Naples, Inv. 9484. Pedicini MN 927.

of portraying the landscape, whereby that on the left is complete and not ‘cropped’ like for a photo image, thus giving the sense of seeing an island or a promontory; third, there is an absence of large honorary ships, which in ancient iconography can be used to signal harbour landscapes. In contrast to the image of Gragnano, there are no fishermen or seamen visible here. Some other details, however, do not match with the rendering of a villa: the mole with two marine doors and several male statues are more suggestive of a realistic representation of a public space than a private landing point. These, as well as the jetty for visitors and the buildings on the river, have nothing to do with the large villas generally depicted in Latium and Campanian paintings, which have huge colonnaded basements and monumental pavilions. In the structure that connects the mole to the bank, there is an arch built on the flank of a superstructure whose front is formed by two columns or pilasters that support an architrave surmounted by a triangular tympanum – this is similar to a temple, whose lateral openings of the pronao were arch shaped. These features of a ‘marine gate’ are also visible in the Gragnano pictures at the entrance (top of the mole), and, given the different ‘perspective’, this could also be a similar building, or at least could have some major harbour functions.

Gragnano Painting (Stabiae) A richly executed painting from Gragnano (MAN 9514), near the Roman town of Stabiae (modern Castellamare di Stabia), which dates to the second half of the first century ad (c. ad 45–79), is one of the most popular paintings of a harbour city, with its moles, quays and maritime structures (Fig. 2.12). This Fourth-Style painting measures c. 0.24 x 0.26 m and develops in a similar manner to many

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other Campanian representations of sacral-idyllic and harbour genres, although the scenes of the Gragnano landscape seem more schematic and simplistic than those in sacral-idyllic scenes.157 The image depicts a monumental port formed by multiple basins, where, alongside large ships anchored to the moles, numerous buildings serve diverse purposes and seamen or fishermen are at work. The buildings surrounding the harbours are light brown and brownish-white in colour, and it appears that the artists attempted to make lighting effects rather than to produce a visual rendering of the buildings. Nonetheless, the structures are well characterized, especially those in the centre. A marine gate at the end of the mole which has on its top a reclining triton on its epistyle is also noticeable. On the quays there are a number of columns with statues on top of them, and these have been rendered in similar colours and in a few strokes. It is possible to argue that these represent a seaman’s or a sailor’s votive offerings. Moreover, paintings of landscapes, such as the Gragnano painting, are often situated in

Fig. 2.12  Gragnano painting, Stabiae. MAN Naples, Inv. 9514. Pedicini D 70425.

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sectors of the central zone of the peristyle. The panels frequently belong to the same genre, and harbours and marine representations are the next highest in frequency. According to Lehmann-Hartleben, this image represents a synthesis of heterogeneous elements taken from reality – in fact, this has often been identified as the harbour of Puteoli, but also as Ostia and Alexandria.158 Picard identifies it as a representation of Puteoli, as does Peters, even though he is more inclined to suggest a symbolic imagery for this representation.159 Kolendo, on the other hand, sees in this scene architectural elements that refer to Alexandria.160 Dall’Olio more convincingly suggests an open interpretation of the scene, as a combination of images from an undefined Hellenistic and Roman repertoire that does not necessarily propose a specific port; that said, in her view, a Campanian influence is highly likely.161 Sampaolo agrees with the latter suggestion, however, suggesting the Tyrrhenian coast as a source of inspiration for the artist.162 A series of elements weaken Puteoli’s hypothesis – the structures are mainly types already attested from earlier periods, but always with some variation or innovation. No two structure are re-proposed in the same way. The arch, or gate, is placed on the mole for decorative purposes; this is a very popular and recurring motif in the depiction of the architecture of ancient harbours. Moreover, on the Gragnano port scene, the water itself is surrounded by buildings, and the harbour mouth is fully dominated by the arch or columns. Here, the lighthouse is absent, thus making it difficult to argue for Alexandrian elements, and warehouses are predominant, together with sacral buildings. The function of the maritime gate is also observed on this image, which depicts two gates standing at the end of the mole, having the likely function of access to the harbour basin and the port. The gate contains decorations, including statues on its epistyle. The harbour basin is surrounded by towers with walls, in the canonical representation of the harbour image repertoire. The harbour complex is completely blocked by structures and marked by a door at its entrance, thus towards the open sea. There is a great deal of water in the scene; the marine elements overshadow any specific depiction of the city. The number of harbour structures is appreciable, and they seem to predominate or at least strike a balance with the sacral, idyllic, maritime, Nilotic or riverine landscapes. The space occupied by water is also partly taken up by seamen, ships and fishermen, and, occasionally, birds are vaguely indicated in the foreground. The tritons that adorned the top of the arch (gate) return in images from the Latium and Campania tradition, but this does not necessarily mean that they are evidence for the rendering of Ostia, Pompeii, Puteoli or any other Tyrrhenian coastal

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Fig. 2.13  Gragnano painting, Stabiae. MAN Naples, Inv. 9480. Pedicini MN 814.

centres. The Gragnano image does not reproduce the amphitheatre, the serapeum or the macellum, but rather presents an image of a port site with sailors – as it likely would have looked to a viewer during the mid-first century ad – and was perhaps influenced by Hellenistic models. Similarly, another painting from Gragnano, Stabiae (MAN 9480), which measures 0.17 × 0.295 m, presents a maritime landscape that is reminiscent of the panels in the house of Lucretius Front, depicting features attested in harbour representation models (Fig. 2.13).163 It dates to the second half of the first century ad. The harbour landscape includes what is likely a huge complex, perhaps a villa, with porticoes and several buildings with arched shapes and colonnades. Statues decorate the terminal of the mole, while fishermen are at work at the edge of the quay.164 The buildings, including porticoes, arched moles and vaulted structures, are well rendered, as are actors in what is seen as a combination of Third- and Fourth-Style iconography. The rendering of the building is accurate, but it does not present the impressionistic taste that is frequently visible in the idyllic sacred landscapes. The painting attempts to present a well-detailed representation of harbour structures and environment, and it also depicts a combination of sacral and idyllic landscape styles.

Conclusion Mapping the sites of construction and development of port infrastructure reveals that several harbour buildings during the Hellenistic and Imperial periods served as sources of inspiration for visual representations. It is clear from the

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visual evidence that monumentality was central not only to the repertoire of artworks depicting maritime landscapes of the Mediterranean, but also to the creation of a programmatic model that included original details pertaining to power and triumphal imagery from at least 200 bc onwards. The miscellanea of media depicting harbours indicate that Hellenistic and Roman authorities were prolific throughout Mediterranean provinces, and support the identification of multifarious meanings rather than the mere depiction of the space as these images held significance for political and military personnel in terms of controlling waters and the marine world. All this information supports the idea that these visual media impacted on multiple levels, which eclipsed the need to associate the image directly with a determined environment or topographic space. The presence of individual or complex monumental architecture also indicates the financial effort and the importance of rendering these buildings visually over time. The evidence for propagandistic claims after the Hellenistic period suggests the growing popularity of maritime sites and seascapes within the Mediterranean.

3

Harbours in Graeco-Roman Art: Symbolism and Identity across the Mediterranean Introduction This chapter assesses the evidence for the representation of harbours in GraecoRoman art, exploring the ideas of symbolism, identity and propaganda within the Mediterranean. Many of the meanings behind the visual media that were being developed on both sides of the mare nostrum were adopted during Roman times, although Hellenistic influence may have survived. The evidence for diffusion suggests that there was a certain degree of continuity between these two historical periods, and that complicity between the population, seafarers and rulers was well established. The majority of the artworks featured people from various social classes, which enhanced the establishment of a well-connected Mediterranean space, and new structures were built in relation to the ports and planning of coastal settlements. Representations of major centres, such as Rome, Puteoli and Leptis Magna, were produced during the development of the commonwealth of the Roman Mediterranean. The three sections of this chapter examine themes pertaining to symbolism, identity and propaganda, and the iconography of power of the imperial and mercantile classes.

Symbolic message: Case studies of Rome, Puteoli and Leptis Magna The artistic decoration of private and public buildings with harbour and marine subjects plays an important role in the celebratory and triumphal imagery represented on both fixed and portable objects.1 The identity and symbolism of the Mediterranean harbours form a key element of the iconographic repertoire as these developed through the perception and representation of the

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harbours’ architectural structures. Such iconographic sources depict harbours as interpretations – and as means of celebrating the glories and wealth – of marine life and of the structures themselves. The architecture depicted in artistic evidence from Rome, Puteoli and Leptis Magna illustrates how these representations contain symbolic implications. The sources indicate how kings and rulers, beginning with Hellenistic patrons and subsequently the elite and emperors such as Claudius, Nero and Trajan, used harbourscapes for the creation and planning of celebratory imagery – in contrast to the tradition of images sourced from triumphal propaganda. These harbour images establish a pattern of rulers and patrons favouring the model of the Hellenistic tradition – including deliberate association with the Mediterranean world of the Eastern provinces – which began in the late second century bc.2 This evidence highlights the willingness of the rulers, commissioners and artists to idealize and visually render the harbours that were planned, built and depicted. The form of the harbour structures and the effort and cost of their construction and their rendering in visual representations stress how the marine cityscapes and their related settings delivered symbolic aspects, including messages on identity and propaganda, that differ from those expressed by representations of ‘terrestrial’ elements. The symbolic resonance of a maritime cityscape through the visualization of an idealized harbourscape is well expressed by the now-lost Esquiline painting, which is known through a Bartoli etching that was reproduced by Dubois after Bellori (Fig. 3.1).3 The dimensions of this painting are unknown, and the engraving made by Bartoli does not include any further information in this regard. Hülsen reports that it was discovered in 1668 in an ancient building of unknown function (perhaps a private house) on the Esquiline Hill in Rome.4 An inscription within the etching refers to this wall painting as ex antiqua pictura. Apart from Bartoli’s etching, a set of twelve sketches, one from Winckelmann’s work and eleven from the royal collection of Windsor Castle, at Eton, record some individual details of the engraving, which are based on the original fresco. All of these were studied and reproduced in Hülsen’s work.5 Although this is an artwork from Roman times, dating is hazardous. Hülsen and Dubois date it to the late second century ad, more precisely to the Antonine period, on the basis of some scene labels that provide a terminus post quem.6 Ostrow, on the basis of the period of production of Puteoli flasks with harbour images, indirectly agrees with the mid-Imperial age for the Esquiline painting.7 The topography of the Esquiline painting has been viewed as of primary importance, and scholars have focused their attention on reading the scene. Hülsen initially identified the image as the banks of the Tiber in Rome, or perhaps the Puteoli shores. Dubois argued that the location depicted

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Fig. 3.1  Esquilino painting, Rome. Bellori drawing (1673). After Brandizzi Vittucci (2007).

might be Puteoli itself, and this was later confirmed by Ostrow based on a comparison with findings from Prague, Pilkington, Cologne and Pompeii.8 The most intriguing and direct feature in the image is the huge breakwater of the harbour sector. This is a large mole made of arcades supporting piers and decorated with triumphal arches and honorary columns. The promontory forms the right-hand part of the ‘mainland’ and conveys the sense of both high and low ground, thereby suggesting the mainland and harbour. Looking at the scene in more detail, in the middle foreground the large mole, with its seven arched vaults, extends towards the sea, on which sail a large square ship and two small pilot boats. Over the mole, there are two arches or ‘marine gates’ surmounted by a quadriga chariot of hippocampi driven by a male figure, perhaps Neptune. There are also two tall columns at the top of which are statues, and there are some equestrian statues on the edge of the mole too, followed by a second arch very similar to the previous one apart from the decorations, which include four tritons and two other columns with statues on top. On the edge of the pier, which is in the proximity of the intersection between mole and mainland, there is a ‘gate’. The harbour front is characterized by great constructions with the features of monuments which are formed by huge buildings and huge porticoes, and some of them contain a descriptive inscription or lettering that indicates the purpose of the architecture, such as a bath, forum, set of temples or large warehouses.9 Moreover, the huge buildings near the mole contain two rows of windows, and there is also a tower and a temple to Apollo overlooking the sea. Here, in the sector facing the sea, the acropolis contains temples such as those of Augustus

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and of Serapis and a templum Apollinis.10 The temples mirror the classic prostyle and pseudo-peripheral structure of the Corinthian order, with six columns along the facade and nine along the sides.11 The other architectural elements that contain scene labels include the portex Neptuni (depicted as a long two-storey building) and the Forum Holitorium and Forum Boarium, which are depicted as long and large rectangular enclosures. On the left, there is also the Aquae pensiles and the balineum Faustines, which form public bath structures.12 Of the other buildings, Bellori draws the horrea as four narrow opened structures, which would have represented both a symbolic and a real element of Roman times – the vital function of supplying grain and commodities. Thus, the storage spaces act as a symbol of safeguarding huge amounts of grain coming from all over the Mediterranean, and these structures might have been a very common sight in Tyrrhenian coastal towns.13 In addition, there are a number of unnamed structures forming conventional motifs such as porticoes and towering buildings, as well as a fisherman seated along the shore. On the lower left-hand side of the mole, there is a small but densely built island which hosts a rectangular portico, a round building that is reminiscent of an amphitheatre, small arched buildings along the coastline and a curvilinear mole stretching towards the sea. The actual evidence for Puteoli’s buildings being recorded in the scene is scant, although one might argue for their existence. Ultimately, however, it is not possible to fully identify the painting with Puteoli. The addition of key buildings – including towers, porticoes and arched structures – and their spatial disposition along the coastline imply the use of a schematic pattern to depict a harbourscape with a promontory, regardless of which port city or harbour is recorded therein. Also, the central purpose of the Esquiline painting was to represent a different and developing, albeit idealized and imaginary, version of harbours with messages of prosperity; it is almost an idyllic setting and sacred landscape. But, in this regard the Esquiline painting suggests a much closer relationship with the rendering and style of the Gragnano painting. The Esquiline painting has very close similarities with the scenes depicted on the glass flasks that offer intriguing visualizations of idealized harbourscapes, which are often associated with the maritime landscape of Puteoli (Fig. 3.2). Picard, Painter and Ostrow largely discuss the individual scenes in relation to the topography of the Tyrrhenian city. The flasks belong to a set of glasses that date to between the third and fourth century ad.14 The inscriptions recorded on the glasses vary, but all depict scenes with the features of a port that has been identified as Baia or Puteoli. Four of the eight flasks, including those of Odemira, Prague, Pilkington, Ostia and Cologne, depict several architectural elements of

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Tyrrhenian harbourscapes. The Ampurias and Populonia flasks depict a view of the coastal site near the Baiae and Puteoli harbours, while the Roman flask focuses primarily on the Baian coast.15 Three of the flasks depict views of Puteoli, thus giving the impression of a clear view of the entire scene from the perspective of an observer.16 A great harbour mole (named pilae or pilas) is depicted on the right of the observer’s field of vision. The landmarks that frame the scene represent a coherent spatial relationship and give a true sense of perspective, as they are very schematic. These depictions portray identifiable elements of individual structures as well as their arrangements; this represents the view of the artists, who chose to depict the most memorable and significant characteristics of the city.17 The depiction on the Prague flask perhaps contains the richest details, including memorable landmarks from the Puteoli mainland rendered together with elements from the marine world. Here, the artist depicted the mole

Fig. 3.2  Puteoli flasks (Odemira, Praga, Populonia). Drawing by M. Scicolone.

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and a range of decorations – the mole is represented by the large pilae (opus pilarum) that forms a breakwater supported by concrete jetties. The artist visualized the key man-made and monumental elements of a harbour from an unidentifiable Tyrrhenian environment, although scholars identify Puteoli in the scene. The pilae is a singular element on the Prague flask, but it is also reproduced on the others.18 These representations have similar elements to the lost painting from the Esquiline, in Rome, which is known from the Bellori drawing. The breakwater, for instance, is similar to the Prague and Pilkington flasks, whose features are also visible in Bellori’s work. Similar structures are also visible in the Gragnano painting. Both productions (i.e. the Esquiline painting and glass flasks) share imagery landmarks from antiquity, and similarities are also visible in the inscribed columns placed on the mole with the labels ‘pilae’ and ‘pilas and pilae’, as well as the toponymies reported, such as Pelagus and Putioli. These not only allow for geographical insight but also convey a very powerful message concerning the harbour complex. The fifteen piers depicted, of which scholars have made no clear determination, may represent bollards and mooring points, given that the breakwaters and moles had features similar to a ship’s prow.19 The marine structures on the mole divide the representation into different groups, which contain triumphal arches with tritons and hippocampi. The architecture of the harbour is rendered in profile, and the arches are displayed as viewed from an angle, which makes the visual representation difficult to understand. This was likely a deliberate attempt by the engravers and glass makers to include as many important elements as possible, but at the expense of some spatial coherence. Every depiction of a breakwater in the drawing and on the flasks that includes a multiple arch crowned by hippocampi, and standing at the end of the mole, is depicted in the liminal space between land and sea. The extremities of the moles, which acted as prows, are also evident in the Bellori drawing, which depicts a short projecting platform at its end and a flame burning near the end of the mole, likely indicating the lighthouse.20 The Populonia flasks prompted scholars to identify structures and chronological range, but the artworks have a more symbolic purpose. The arch standing on the mole is identified as belonging to Emperor Antoninus Pius, based on a passage of the Historia Augusta, although the association is unclear. This suggests that the flasks were made during the Antonine period.21 The scene is, however, dominated by the harbour, including the breakwater with its honorary columns, the mooring points and the triumphal arches over the lighthouse platform, but the architecture does not depict a specific place.

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Therefore, the main features of the Puteoli flasks were perhaps a naïve dedication to those of Baiae, Puteoli and the whole coastline, but the central element is the value of marine exploitation and the renovation of the harbour, which was central to the economy of the Tyrrhenian coasts. The harbour is also the central element of the Bellori painting, and, similarly to what was proposed for the Puteoli flasks, the painting was first identified as a depiction of the mouth area of the Tiber. This was then revised, and it was interpreted as the coastal area of Puteoli.22 The key feature is the breakwater; that is, the Puteolan mole, incorporated with jetties, arches and columns.23 The rendering of the architecture in the Bellori drawing is very close to the model of the flasks. It conveys very few architectural features of the surviving structures, which were spatially disposed overlooking the sea, such as the templum Apollonis, Forum Holitorium and Forum Boarium, which are not entirely known at Puteoli, as well as the Aquae pensiles and the balineum Faustines.24 Among other details, both the drawing and the flasks includes horrea, i.e. storage spaces, depicted as four narrow spaces. These functioned as vital storage spaces and safeguarded large quantities of grain that passed though the city en route to Rome. These buildings would have been very common at several sites, as also attested by archaeological, epigraphic and literary evidence that highlights their existence and relevance, particularly along the Tyrrhenian coasts; however, elements such as porticoes and signalling towers are almost completely missing.25 But, in the context of harbourscapes, the rendering of buildings that include clusters of porticoes and port towers perfectly schematized the ideal setting of the marine cityscapes, thus giving the sense of a continuation in use of the scheme from the Hellenistic period onwards and of the long-established connections, long-distance trade, supplies, etc., that are the real symbols of the city port. Porticoes and huge monumentalized port buildings are also visible in a pavement mosaic in Rome that is still preserved in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere (Fig. 3.3). This includes the full range of symbols contained in such maritime images. The polychrome mosaic dates to the second century ad.26 The mosaic depicts a huge harbour basin (which contains a ship whose sails are swelled by the wind and two fishermen on a smaller boat portrayed in the act of hauling their nets) that is marked by a long and high colonnaded portico which extends over a curvilinear mole, at whose end is a marine gate surmounted by a horse chariot. All of these features convey the shape of a man-made harbour structure. It is noteworthy that this arch or gate is formed by two pillars and a rectilinear architrave that is also reminiscent of the Esquiline and Puteoli patterns, although in this case the gate is strictly connected to the portico, so as

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Fig. 3.3  Mosaic of S. Maria in Trastevere, Rome. DAI D-ROM 41.1805.

to monumentalize the whole sector. Over the harbour front, there are trees and other buildings of various heights, completing the scene and giving a fuller impression of a harbour view to the observer. Such symbolism is also visible in the Mosaic of the Nile Villa at Leptis Magna, which includes aspects of the environment and harbour life in North Africa (Fig. 3.4). North Africa was an ideal setting for ports and landing spots, and many of these were monumental harbours. Images that are suggestive of major harbours are scattered along the coastal area, including exotic, marine, Nilotic and riverine environments. The Mosaic of the Nile Villa, also known as the Mosaic of the Erotes,

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at Leptis Magna, which includes details of a huge harbour front lining the seashore, contains a monumental marine gate, extended marine porticoes, colonnaded buildings and a trireme ship rowed by Erotes. The mosaic, which measures c. 2.83 × 1.20 m, dates to the late second or early third century ad.27 Some Erotes are fishing, while others are riding dolphins, and this marine scene is framed by a portico surmounted by green elements. Behind the above-mentioned door is a distyle structure with a rectilinear architrave that is surmounted by decorative elements and a round temple; in the lower section, a portico with openings and columns and an arched shape delimitates the line of ships, which are identified by their masts. But the arched portico, characterized at its centre and at the edges by a rounded building, also forms a continuum that incorporates the harbour within the promontory environment. Of these, the Nile Villa mosaic was inspired by the nearby port of ancient Leptis Magna. This polychrome mosaic frames Nilotic and marine environmental contexts that incorporate a large-scale harbour.28 The mosaic renders a ship landing in a major port, often identified by scholars as that of Leptis Magna with the temple of Jupiter Dolichenus as this complex was very close to the Nile Villa.29 The key characteristic of such a panoramic rendering is that the mosaic depicts the port city – with buildings, ships and harbour life – and presents a scene populated by figures, for example fishing Erotes and flying deities escorting the ship and riding dolphins, waves and winds. The fishing Erotes, who are rendered in both small and large sizes, are good examples of the differences and similarities between Classical art in the earlier and later periods, especially in the rendering of harbour scenes. The figures and buildings relate to the Hellenistic tradition, while the larger ones are more referable to the later Roman phase, as they show disregard for the size, proportion and scale of figures included in the marine landscapes. Therefore, the depiction of the harbour scene is a noticeable return to later Hellenistic styles.30 Sailing is conducted under the auspices of semi-divine figures such as the Erotes, who metaphorically help sailors and make possible mastery over the sea

Fig. 3.4  Mosaic of the Erotes, Nile villa, Leptis Magna. DAI D-ROM 61.1873.

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currents, waves and winds. Although fear and the need for divine help are not explicitly expressed in the scene, the mosaic symbolically highlights why a calm rather than a rough sea was so important to seamen. The mosaic depicts cupids sailing and attempting to reach the harbour while being blown by the wind, as indicated by the full sails. The depiction of other cupids riding on fast dolphins indicates the balance, complicity and harmony between them and the marine world, and this serenity is thanks to the majestic harbour basin that stands on the right-hand side of the scene. The harbour is formed by a high curvilinear mole, very similar to the Trastevere mosaic, and long colonnaded portico structures as well as a temple gate – likely an arched or door structure – that indicates the marine gate which marks the space between water and land, and that also expresses the need to welcome seamen and harbour workers to the port city. Contrary to other harbour scenes, the Nile Villa mosaic (as well as the Santa Maria in Trastevere one) is not perfectly consistent in perspective, which is a common feature of several of the harbour scenes from the Hellenistic and Imperial periods. This indicates that the real aim of the production was to record the soul and symbol of the harbour sector and life. That is made possible in the Nile Villa artwork through the use of African and also the usual Graeco-Roman characteristics.31 The inconsistent perspective is ‘natural’ and perhaps coherent as this artwork is not an illogical combination of bird’s-eye and normal view, which is a characteristic of popular Roman art and has a long history in GraecoRoman representations of events.32 The mosaic does not present a complete account of the harbour complex, but rather takes inspiration from the development and monumentality of the port, and from the great interest during Roman times in maritime life and the language art. In fact, in such an image the presence of a consistent and detailed illustration of real marine life did not affect relations between image, life and art, and the presence of cupids and fishing Erotes enjoying the harbour – a result of man-made work – responds to the symbolic implications of the harbour. The port structures in the Nile Villa mosaic, which are depicted from different points of view, including both eye-level and bird’s-eye views, are the result of Roman interest in both real and symbolic details, which affected their use of a narrative method that was very popular in art. This composition and perspective is best rendered in landscape painting, but is also visible in the Nile Villa mosaic, in most wall paintings from the Italian tradition, on the Puteoli flasks, on coins and oil lamps, and, as we will see, in the friezes and reliefs of Trajan’s Column in Rome and the Arch of Septimius Severus at Leptis.33 But, as said above, the mosaic contains several marine architectural elements, including temples,

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dwellings, porticoes, storage spaces, arches and a temple, which are rendered in the same way as in the Palestrina mosaic,34 with a riverine context, beaches, blocks carefully delineated, architraves with decorative beam ends, balconies and balustrades with columns, and curtains in front of the harbour mouth. In the Leptis Magna mosaic, the panoramic scene is filled with several Erotes, angels, fishermen, sailors and ships, the scale of which is not proportional, and neither is the port setting consistent. Often, the actors, depicted in the eye-level view – with a rich combination of realism in detail and complete lack of realism in composition – 35 are part of the harbour representation, but their presence is more conspicuous in the panoramic scenes because of the marine architecture. Finally, the Nile Villa mosaic distinguishes between two models of architecture rendered in the artwork – both harbour and marine life. The first can be traced back to scenes of harbour mouths, moles and jetty sectors of the Roman period.36 But, the marine representation of landscapes, which is much more stylized here than in the Nile mosaic of Palestrina, has its origins in Hellenistic art, as similarly seen in the sacral landscape of the Nilotic pattern. The marine sector is not presented realistically except in one aspect – the buildings are larger than the landscape elements. The Leptis Magna mosaic is part of this type, but this includes elements from these three types of architectural representations. The common theme of these artworks is the representation of real marine life full of alternative implications and meanings. The sailors and fishermen are central, albeit peripheral, to the harbour complex – they are depicted within the harbour but on its edge. One of the striking features of the representation of the port city in the mosaic is the presence of deities (indicating a divine context) and human and monumental figures. The ships are unmanned, the entrances are empty and there are no figures in any of the buildings. The architecture becomes a key element, rendering the vista the most important aspect. The seascape is reminiscent of the necessary abbreviated, condensed and symbolic style of the representations on coins.37 This is visible in the case of formats that are comparable to representations of the harbour as a semicircle with colonnaded structures, always viewed directly from the front. The harbour scene is seemingly conventional, likely because the harbour itself is not depicted at the centre of the representation. There are, of course, a range of images rendered through unusual points of view, for instance those from Oplontis and from other Latium and Campanian paintings (e.g. Gragnano, Pompeii and Rome), as well as images which render the port as seen from above, as if it were a map (e.g. Kencherai opus sectile panels, coins and oil lamps).38 Although the viewpoints differ substantially, they all link to the symbolism expressed by the images.

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Ideological message: Representations of the imperial and mercantile classes The depiction of both the imperial and mercantile classes contains ideological messages. The Torlonia relief, which was carved in the Severan period and found near the Claudian harbour in Rome, has unique features that contain representations of both the imperial and mercantile classes (Fig. 3.5). This artwork was commissioned as a votive offering and was found near the Temple of Liber Pater – Bacchus. It depicts personified deities and representations of port buildings. The focus of the marine scene is a group of traders, situated on the lefthand side, making a sacrifice in their ship as they enter the port, in thanksgiving for a safe journey. The Torlonia relief was found at Portus, near the site of the Imperial Palace, between the harbours of Claudius and Trajan. It is made entirely of Greek marble and measures c. 1.22 × 0.75 m.39 The relief depicts a busy port scene and ships approaching the landing points, on whose sails are depicted the letters V L, likely indicating V(otum) L(ibero) or V(otum) L(ibens) S(olvit). It probably dates to the Severan period (c. ad 190–210), based on the style in which the work was executed as well as the portrayal of the figures sacrificing and the ships;40 however, more recently earlier dates have been proposed.41 On the lower right of the scene, a ship is depicted anchoring to a mooring block. These blocks have been found at Trajan’s port basin as well as several other major port sites, including Anzio, Aquileia, Leptis Magna and Terracina. A harbour worker is unloading a wine amphora onto the quay. This suggests that the person who dedicated the relief was probably a wine merchant, and, of course, one should also note the association between Bacchus and wine. Above the ship is a large eye – an apotropaic element for averting evil. The ship to the left has just entered the harbour. On the upper left, people are portrayed in the act of making a votive offer, in thanksgiving to a deity for safe return. On the right, a man is lowering objects to anchor the ship to the quay. On the sails are depicted two representations of Romulus and Remus suckling a she-wolf. Another small ship is depicted on the left. Neptune is depicted standing between the two ships, holding a trident. In the background is the enormous lighthouse of Claudius, with a flame at its top, while to the right of the lighthouse there is a statue, likely portraying either Claudius or Nero.42 To the left of the lighthouse there is a statue of an unidentified person or deity, who is portrayed holding a wreath and a horn of plenty. A female figure on the upper left is provided with another signalling element – a lighthouse on top of her head, which is likely a reminder or a symbol of Portus itself. In the

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Fig. 3.5  Torlonia relief, Rome. DAI D-ROM 7898.

background and to the left is the lighthouse of Portus, with its light aflame. To the right there is depicted a male figure who may be a tutelary deity, the Genius of the harbour. On the right of the female figure, we can note an eagle and a winged figure, likely a personification of victory. Finally, in the upper right corner, a triumphal arch is depicted, and at its top there is a chariot pulled by elephants. The person driving the chariot has been interpreted as Emperor Domitian because he is portrayed holding a sceptre topped by a human head, as can also be seen on several of his coins.43 Here, on the right, Bacchus is portrayed holding a thyrsus and flanked by a panther. In this harbour context, which is densely populated by harbour workers, emperors and deities, the lighthouse is the central architectural element. It has five storeys and five openings, and is built in square blocks, i.e. opus quadratum. The flame on the top communicates the spatial disposition of the whole structure at the entrance of the harbour, mirroring the Alexandrian pattern and the island of Pharos.44 The towering building stands at the centre of the scene, and, although it slightly obscures the cargo ship approaching the port, it depicts Portus and is the only monumental architectural element which dominates the scene. The presence of the lighthouse, together with the ships, mariners, emperors, deities and details of commercial import and export imbue the scene with a sense of the main port of Rome, and the lighthouse represents the monumentality of the renowned port of Rome. Although quays, moles and many other harbour facilities such as warehouses were subject to improvement works, such works are

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not rendered as monumental in the harbour scene. The lighthouse close to the above-mentioned figures may be associated with a message of light (e.g. divine light or the light provided by the deified figures of the emperors), the safety and security of the Mediterranean waters, and, above all, the main port of the whole Roman Empire as a symbol of power and security. Similarly, a range of artworks from funerary contexts such as sarcophagi unexpectedly contain scenes of harbour and marine life. All of these come from Ostia, Portus and Rome, and include original details on the ideological meaning of the harbour scenes. A carved Roman sarcophagus, dating to the early third century ad, perhaps the Severan period, is held in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek Museum in Copenhagen, in the ‘Collezione Borghese’ (inv. 1299) (Fig. 3.6). It measures c. 1.78 × 0.54 × 0.52 m and is made of white marble, although some original colouration can still be noted.45 The relief contains details of seafaring life and activities on a stormy and wavy sea, with ships approaching a harbour. The scene depicts three ships at the entrance to a port, often identified as either Portus or Ostia, and it is remarkable for the level of detail. The ships depicted are corbitae, i.e. cargo boats; the same model is present in the Torlonia relief and the mosaic of Althiburos, Tunisia.46 Of these ships, the central one has a spritsail with a mast which is situated far forward, in the hull. The sprit is hidden behind the sail but is visible when the relief is viewed from the left. The other two vessels both have square sails with artemon foresails, and the artist has also depicted their sails in an alternative manner, with the ruffled sailcloth indicating the path of the vertical brailing lines. The vessel on the left has a conventional outwardcurved bow, whereas the vessel on the right has a concave bow, which forms a cutwater. Details on the edges include depictions of monumental signalling structures which are reminiscent of those at Alexandria and Portus. On the right, a

Fig. 3.6  Sarcophagus, Ostia-Rome. Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek N. 1299, Copenhagen. Getty Images.

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three-storeyed lighthouse with a burning flame at its top is built upon a rock. The first two floors are constructed in opus quadratum; the second and third floor are provided with openings on two different sides; the upper floor has a circular tower with two open windows, aligned with those of the lower storeys, as well as a burning fire.47 Lawrence proposes that this is an idealized representation of the Ostia lighthouse. Thiersch, on the other hand, states that this depicts the lighthouse at Alexandria.48 The lighthouse portrayed in the sarcophagus frieze exhibits strong similarities with that in the Torlonia relief, although both the Alexandrian and Portus models seem to have provided inspiration. Another scene depicts a rocky shore overlooking the sea, and from which two attendants survey the marine scene and the arrival of the ships.49 The ship on the left is sailed by three mariners, who are portrayed here in the act of unloading a scapha, i.e. a small ship, and guiding the helm. In the ship on the far right, two men are dealing with the rigging of the sail and directing the vessel; the bow and stern are decorated with animal heads, probably of a goose or swan. The ship depicted at the centre differs slightly from the two on the left and right edges, in that it is larger and is similar to the large cargo ship already noted in the Torlonia relief. The sail is anchored to a mast close to the bow, and it has a helm and a cabin, and three mariners are in the act of guiding the vessel. Close to the helm, a young man is portrayed: perhaps he fell into the water in the act of navigating, but this is not too worrying since he is close to the port and surrounded by friendly dolphins, which may also have served to symbolize the safety of the port. He is asking for help from his fellow mariners, but also seems to be swimming towards the scapha. The lighthouse as an architectural element is a central figure in most of the harbour scenes from the Imperial era.50 The Antiquarian Comunale and Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek representations have further common elements, including the absence of deities and votive offerings. The Antiquarium Comunale mosaic is unique because of the chromatic elements used; thus, the monumentality of the structure, especially of the lighthouse, is emphasized. The sarcophagus in the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek was likely a personal commission, and the carving may not have depicted a specific location. It is more likely that the commissioner wanted to stress the perils of life; safe navigation; the safety of the port (even though one might fall into the water), which is guaranteed by improved navigation; port structures; and the lighthouse. Although commissioned for private purposes, this important work of art was created by and for the commissioner, specifically to fulfil a funerary function, and thus it is reasonable that the scene includes messages of assuring good fortune and safe journeys for shipping activities. The

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scene may also contain further symbolic meanings including sea travel as a metaphor for travel between the lands of the living and the deceased. The Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek sarcophagus is different to the Ostia mosaics and to the Torlonia and Antiquarium Comunale reliefs as these artworks focus on the impressive lighthouse, with its blocky stone steps and burning fires. The sarcophagus has a similar chronology to the polychrome mosaic of the Antiquarium Comunale, but the rendering of the subject matter is slightly different since navigation is central to the sarcophagus depiction; however, as previously noted, even on the Ostia mosaics the lighthouse is the only element that points to a port complex.51 In the scene on the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek sarcophagus, the ‘lighthouse’ is portrayed as the only building that forms the harbour. As a port building, it plays a direct role in water and harbour activities, and it also has a deeper meaning: it alludes to the involvement of the owner of the shipping business, his wealth and the success of his trade and voyages, which may also have been due to improved infrastructure, for example the lighthouse. Similarly, the harbour relief of the Belvedere sarcophagus, perhaps from Ostia, contains a port scene with arches, tower, quays and lighthouse, surmounted by an elephant and quadriga. The relief represents a monument rather than an actual triumphal procession because the chariot rests on a platform consistent with the attic of an arch. The space below the bottom line contains a reclining harbour deity identified by his pose and anchor.52 The harbour is identified by the inscription as portus augusti, and this artistic evidence also supports the notion that the harbour contained elements of monumentality such as the elephant quadriga and arch and tower. This attests to the identity of the place, the occupants of the space and the purpose behind the monument. This adoption establishes the authority granted to the rulers and their achievements as planners of the harbours, including the inception of a period of peace, stability and grandeur for the whole empire. The ideological message relates to elements that implicitly recall the prestige and reputation of the elite, imperial and mercantile classes. These elements emerged in the representations from Leptis Magna, Portus, Puteoli, Rome and beyond. These scenes do not depict any particular location, but rather present abbreviated symbolic content of media, in their several formats. Therefore, this repertoire seems to follow several traditions that range from panoramic seascapes and harbour images – including port buildings and structures, ships, sailors, fishermen, fish and also sacral temples, cupids, dolphins and vegetable elements including trees, bushes and beach and river environments – to the narrative, such as the scene of the friezes, the engraved coins and coloured

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mosaic representations.53 In contrast to the earlier Palestrina pattern, representations from Classical art in such media lack naturalism. For instance, the vegetation in the Palestrina mosaic is concentrated in the sea in the form of rocks surmounted by algae and seaweed, and there are few trees. Attempts to emphasize the relevance of the environment surrounding the harbours are often evident in the Puteoli artworks and in the polychrome mosaics from Leptis Magna and Rome. Furthermore, the tree is associated with a temple in each case. The tree and beach are emphasized as connected to the harbour as a unique entity with the rest of the port sector. This feature creates a symbolic effect – this is also reminiscent of the group comprising harbour, temple and sacred tree that is often visible in sacral seascapes of the Mediterranean. These media seem to highlight such elements and underscore how they are reproduced as a means of ideology. But why is the environment depicted as a central element of the harbour scene? And, why is there an ideological implication behind these scenes? Often, the environment is exotic. The trees drawn are types associated with a semi-arid climate; although the mosaic makers had no first-hand knowledge of these exotic types, they rendered them well. The harbour is enclosed by trees, beaches and temples. This is common in Nilotic scenes and suggests the type of construction that must have existed on the banks of the river, thus indicating that the scenes might represent a Nilotic environment. They are depicted within the tradition of Hellenistic and Roman paintings and mosaics, with representations of ships, fish and harbours, which occur throughout the ancient world.54 The scenes in the artworks present a fine mixture of opposite elements: although the scenes are all drawn to the same scale, they are depicted from a variety of perspectives and there is divergence in the amount of detail rendered. The continuous scenes that evolved in narrative depictions in the Classical world are realistic in detail but somewhat unrealistic in terms of the composition and assemblage.55 For example, the fish are rendered in a similar way to one another in terms of scale but different to other objects in the harbour pictures.56 As such, they do not appear realistic, and this is enhanced by the fact that they are all drawn at eye level, and they fill the space in an artistic and balanced manner. The positioning of structures and harbour workers, whereby no two are the same even when types are repeated, gives the appearance of reality as it seems natural. The environment also highlights the actions of authority and the elite. The forms and spaces depicted are populated by natural elements, massive standing structures and human, mythological and animal figures. These forms cannot be attributed to any one port city but of course as terms of spaces. The artists produced idealized images based on their own knowledge or they

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determined patterns of seascapes through applying technical skills, ability and details – these spaces do not represent a real context, but rather are expressions of the Roman authority and classes. The identifiable structures that reoccur in the mosaics include lighthouses, porticoes and warehouses. The lighthouses, which are iconographically correctly incorporated within the scenes and architecturally well rendered, are also known to signify elite figures.57 Lighthouses have always been included within this repertoire of images, which frequently include environmental details, because of this singular meaning. It is conceivable that the lighthouse was taken from the Hellenistic pattern of Alexandria as a model for visualizing the rulers’ authority, thereby combining abstraction and realism. Any clear identification is impossible, thereby allowing for speculation. From Alexandria onwards, but especially from Claudius’ time, these superstructures provide key evidence for triumphal monuments that mark imperial presence, movement and authority. From Ptolemy to Tiberius, this monumental building was idealized and conceived not only as a mark of a harbour, city or promontory but also as an operational seamark, which implies the close association between the supreme ruler and lighthouses.58 For instance, as Tuck argues, the lighthouse at Capri, in Campania, was built on the highest point of the small island near the Villa Iovis, where Tiberius lived.59 This was presumably lit when Tiberius was at the villa, as also happened with Claudius and Trajan at Portus – this signalling structure was thus closely associated with the emperor.60 The identification of the authority and/or the imperial figure with the harbour complex, and in particular with the lighthouse, implies the relationship between the ruler, the artist who made the representation and the harbour or lighthouse pattern. The harbour sector is a liminal landscape marker of the authority’s presence, movements and location. The action of sponsoring mega hubs through the public munificence of the Hellenistic and Roman elite reveals how the movement, action and benefaction of the rulers were public acts full of ideological meanings, implying not only the monumentalization but also the guarding of the environment.61 The harbour space, including its main buildings, such as quay, mole and lighthouse, developed ideological connections with the ruler’s endeavours, successes and presence. The Mediterranean harbour representations, from an ideological perspective, belong to this specific category, as harbours in general and their visual renderings contain symbolic foundations and sea boundaries between the civilized world and unknown lands. Places such as Centumcellae, Misenum, Ostia, Portus, Puteoli and Ravenna, as mentioned by Pliny the Elder, Suetonius and Tacitus, and as represented by anonymous engravers and mosaic makers at the time of their contemporary foundations, highlighted the presence of imperial

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policy, and this was also reflected in the sponsorship for constructing major port buildings.62 Claudius and Nero built these marine complexes after several achievements and triumphs in Africa, the north-western provinces and the Eastern Mediterranean, before returning to Italy. When celebrating their triumphs, emperors sailed to and visited port cities such as Centumcellae, Portus and Ravenna. Emperors performed ceremonies there, such as adventus and reditus, which attracted a vast audience from the Mediterranean provinces; therefore, the presence of the authority in loco marks the triumph of politics, including Claudius’ triumph outside Rome and Italy.63 The control of politics, hegemony over societies, domination of territories and military victories within the empire are connected, elaborated and also expanded through the actions and support of the rulers, imperial authorities and magistracies as well as local mercantile classes. The construction of monuments at Portus, Puteoli and Leptis Magna, and the lighthouses at Alexandria, Ostia and Ravenna, are reminders of the ruler and imperial foundations, and they mark the expansion of and control over the territories and coasts of the Mediterranean and the routes taken by the members of the mercantile classes and central and local authorities. Chronologically, the construction and later visual representations of the structures match the expansion policy that occurred from the late Hellenistic period onwards.64 It has been determined that superstructures at Alexandria, Centumcellae, Ostia, Portus and Ravenna were commissioned by Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius and Nero, but were also promoted and sponsored by the local elite.65 The principate and surge in major constructions were achieved through the development of astonishing buildings along the key coastal routes between Italy, Africa and Arabia for specific dates and purposes – likely a project launched and completed by Ptolomy and the Julio-Claudian and Severan dynasties. During these periods, harbour complexes are well attested, and visual renderings depict them not necessarily from a geographic viewpoint but rather, and mainly, ‘ideologically’, with parallels to the patterns of Alexandria and Portus.66 The value of superstructures derives first from the complicity between authorities and locals in planning and sponsoring the constructions, and this is reflected in the images and texts that can be taken as direct testimony of this trend in building major infrastructure. Marine monuments, for example lighthouses and moles, were elements of the ideological intervention of the authority in the Mediterranean territories, and their representations also tell a story about their role as markers, now repeatedly monumentalized and idealized, and connectors that enabled the functioning of well-established sea routes and long-distance trade.67 These visual accounts, therefore, attest to the elite and

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mercantile classes’ use and expansion of marine structures in sailing between the Mediterranean centres. Harbours and their apparatus of images date to the principate and are directly associated with the central authority.68 The close ties indicate the subject of the structures and the disposition of the harbour complexes that followed the pattern of Alexandria as the ideal model for those who entered and visited Mediterranean harbours. The images also include those who go to sea and their roles, as is visible in the Torlonia relief and on Roman sarcophagi. Authors also inspired, near the end of the first century ad, a group of merchants and members of the mercantile class who contributed to sponsoring harbour structures rather than local temples or terrestrial public buildings, thus contributing to the JulioClaudian dynasty and ideology.69 As also reflected by these iconographies, the ancient harbours were dedicated to and/or decorated with statues of deities and emperors. This phenomenon was probably inspired by the pattern of harbour installations at Alexandria and had likely never been seen before in Rome or elsewhere, but, thanks to its scale, monumentality and scope, Alexandria became a source of inspiration for several later hubs of the Imperial period. This is confirmed by Suetonius’ description of the lighthouse of Portus as a very tall tower, modelled on the lighthouse at Alexandria.70 Pliny the Elder gives an account of the harbour sectors, including lighthouse towers, by comparing it to Alexandria; he suggests the presence of a lighthouse and the construction of moles to protect sailors and for the establishment of huge harbour wonders.71 The ideological implications are clearly visible in the descriptions of Cassius, Pliny the Younger, Suetonius and Tacitus as, during this period, the sea and the liminal space of the harbour sector are conceived as a form of control over the waters. Cassius states that the emperor built huge moles in the sea, enclosing a large sector of the basin.72 Pliny the Younger states that massive jetties extended over the sea and ended in an island equipped with a huge tower.73 The artistic evidence, which seemingly mirrors the textual sources, depicts gigantic and decorated structures including a lighthouse and great moles enclosed by towers and large harbour walls, and these are connected with deities (depicted as statues), patrons and sailors. The representations of harbours and lighthouses support the view that these are depictions of idealized major hubs, encompassing installations from Portus and Leptis Magna, such as multi-storey towers and harbour walls, which held strong meanings for the mercantile class.74 The power of images which highlight massive marine structures is evident on coins, friezes, mosaics, paintings and reliefs.75 Depictions of deities safeguarding

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the port, rulers and workers involved in harbour activities indicate their close complicity. The decision to depict rulers or members of the maritime elite derives from the need to spread and replicate this iconographic repertoire across the Mediterranean. They are often depicted together with deities such as Oceanus, Neptune, the Nereids and the Tritons, as visible in several media, and are often portrayed close to the lighthouse or standing on the mole protecting and welcoming sailors. Depictions also include dolphins, various fish, sea snakes and sea creatures.76 The standing or acting poses vary depending on the representations, and especially on the position of the harbour structures and ships. The Hellenistic model is also known from Rome in the colossal statue that is known as the Hellenistic ruler. For instance, in the harbour scene of the Torlonia relief and on Roman sarcophagi a statue represents Claudius with the features of Jupiter, which is associated with the ideological power of the JulioClaudian dynasty. The structures and characters are crowned and depicted as symbols of imperial benevolence in many images and reliefs, and the evidence is exclusive to the maritime policy of the principate. Architectural elements at Portus contain characteristics that imitate those of Alexandria, and the elite present themselves as the new rulers, who are both protected and personified by the deities – it requires little to associate this with the Egyptian model.77 The harbour is also conceived within the representations as the marker of both arrival and terminus, of voyages for both emperor and harbour workers, of the triumph of military operations and achievements, and of economic and social successes and well-being. The adventus and reditus of rulers and mercantile members reunify the lives and experiences of, and improve the complicities between, authority, the elite, magistracies, people and seamen thanks to the harbour function, and this is incorporated within the corpus of texts and images from the Julio-Claudian period onwards.78 The images of the basin programme at Portus further developed the maritime imagery and boosted the triumphal implications of previous Julio-Claudian rulers, thereby developing a more direct ideological imagery. The completion of the major basin established the extension and justified the role of media that stress the triumphal message, especially after successful wars.79 The harbour basin itself contains explicit meanings of the military and ideological supremacy of the ruler, as well as elements of the monumentalization of the complex. The representations of ports of both Claudius and Trajan contain structures that mark continuity and the presence of the emperors, who might have passed through both basins on their way back to the Mediterranean.80 The representations that depict the moles and quays, along with the shore and arches, comprise

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appropriate features of the harbour entrance and sector which began to enhance the messages and meanings. The Torlonia relief, for example, presents a short building along the right mole, formed by an arch and multiple storeys. The arcades opposite the mole do not appear to be architecturally differentiated and, although the coin is limited in the amount it can depict, it clearly indicates the image’s purpose. The image displays a triumphal arch, mole and multistorey building surmounted by a superstructure, thereby identifying the main structures within the harbour space, such as the mole and lighthouse, and their positions within the port. The harbour monuments identified within the mole area are related to the direct view from the marine perspective. As seen, the Belvedere sarcophagus, found in Ostia, also depicts a dense harbour scene, which is formed by several harbour buildings, ships, deities, locals and temples. The relief represents a maritime monument rather than a triumphal procession as the structures are built over a platform. Below, a reclining harbour deity holds an anchor and a trident, and an inscription identifies the harbour infrastructure and the actors in the scene. The scene comprises many harbours, in both perspective and scale, with no suggestion of any coherent harbour scene. The small-scale and shallow relief of the figure seems to produce an incomplete carved wreath with unfinished details above. The monuments and figures in relief are of a similar unfinished composition. The figure is an emperor – perhaps Trajan, or someone earlier as he has no beard, or Domitian since he ordered the building of an arch with an elephant chariot decoration on its top.81 Animals and chariots were symbols of the imperial authority from the beginning of the Julio-Claudian dynasty.82 The origin of this symbolism, which often depicted the deity presiding over the harbour, culminating with Augustus, Claudius and Trajan, highlighted the iconography of the triumphal and ideological programmes as the traditional patterns of Hellenistic princeps establishing dominance and control over territories and provinces.83 The representations incorporated the authority’s need to establish authority over the empire, particularly following the reigns of successful and popular relatives. There is no evidence of direct patronage or intervention by emperors at major Mediterranean ports, with the exception of Portus, Ostia and Ancona, but the iconography of the harbour and its traditional ties to Neptune also more closely fit with the decorative and architectonic programme of Claudius and Trajan and the later conquest of Dacia and the East, as also suggested by the setting and disposition of the newly built harbour.84 The evidence reflects the emperor’s presence in the harbour basin, marked by the triumphal-arch buildings, the decorations and the basin set up for the

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expansion of the infrastructure. The entrances are also provided with further monuments that surround and face the basin itself; for instance, the Belvedere relief contains a standing colossal cuirassed statue and, behind it, a temple that implies votive elements. In the centre of the harbour front, opposite the entrance, stands a tall lighthouse. The disposition is noteworthy as the colossus is placed between the harbour and entrance of the temple, located just off the edge of the harbour behind the colossus and lighthouse themselves. The structures are effectively screened from the view of the entire harbour front, perhaps an attempt to express the monumentality of the architecture and the harbour as implications of the sense of domination and ‘physical’ and terrestrial control over the space. The harbour colossus presents an explicit image of imperial ideology within the waterfront space, and the colossus might also portray the figure of an emperor, perhaps Trajan.85 The structures assumed the role of architecture for military and economic purposes, but the monuments and emperors were given symbolic positions on the harbour edge. The monument usually depicts the leader as a successful commander, and the emperor is depicted as fully involved in the sea scene. As we will also see in Chapter 4, the numismatic evidence from the Neronic and Trajanic eras, which likely celebrated the opening of the port, does not differentiate between harbour structures and proper maritime buildings. However, it is possible that coins depicting buildings with rounded and arcaded lines are the best-preserved examples of such celebrations as the emperor is ideally depicted confidently dealing with the water and executing control over it. The figure is depicted standing on the harbour monuments, like the colossus in the harbour ground, but this cannot be identified as a statue; rather, it is likely a personification of the presence of the deity and the trade in commodities in the harbour. The actors, complex and cargoes convey a direct message of full control over the space. The patronage of merchants oversees storage and trade, and the monuments seem to be part of a much broader plan for the enlargement of the harbour. Deities are depicted with marine and nautical aspects as they are associated with naval matters and trade, and they are also the subject of mercantile-class devotion.86 The marine ties of harbour figures appear in iconography in a series of marine figures, including centaurs, tritons and cupids. Among these, Oceanus and Neptune were the most attested marine gods in the ancient world.87 The presence of the figures indicates the prominence of worship in the harbour area; the figures acted as patrons of the association of the harbour workers and members of the nautical and mercantile elite, and promoted the infiltration of Eastern style into Rome and its assimilation with Hellenistic taste. The purpose of this was the establishment of the mythological basis of, and justification for,

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the infrastructural programmes underpinning the monumentalization of the major Mediterranean hubs, whose plans served to reinforce the authority and the ideological policies of the imperial authority.88 The reason for the presence and presentation of the monuments in the harbour may also be found in the ideological programmes of the emperor himself, in the Hellenistic tradition that rulers and the mercantile-class members used for the creation of a mythological base and justification for the apotropaic message and motifs. The association of marine deities, such as Dionysus, Jupiter, and Neptune, with Claudius, Trajan, etc. was connected with the sacred mission to conquer and liberate the ‘Eastern’ provinces.89 The association of the rulers with terrestrial and marine deities indicated both divine inspiration and ruling over the Mediterranean. The harbour contains no other deities, and those that do appear are clear components of the imperial personality. This reinforces the virtus of the emperor to evolve as a successful naval and terrestrial military commander. The ideological programme guarantees and shapes justification for infrastructural enlargement and expansion – the ruler has the right to conquer territories and accomplish triumphs, and the mercantile class has the chance to exploit these for the sake of the economy and sustainability. The audience of such messages knows that major hubs were designed as terminals for commodities and grain fleets, but also as departure points for adventures and endeavours. The harbour monuments were also built to appeal to sailors and soldiers who passed by and sailed in and out of the ports, addressing an ideological and triumphal message, which was then reproduced through visual media. This explicit message works as a bridge between the harbour complex and emperors and seamen, thus marking the development and evolution of the ideology of the principate across the Mediterranean.

Propagandistic message: The iconography of imperial authority The delivery of propagandistic messages reached its apex in the Severan construction of hubs and coastal settlements between the Claudian and the Septimius Severan periods.90 The planning and construction of Leptis Magna included aspects of major harbours – incorporated within the architectural forms was a message declaring the political and propagandistic spheres of the new ruler, who had conquered territories and commercial spaces and routes. The decision to aggrandize major harbours operated on several levels, with the propagandistic

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implications stressing the importance of control over the resources of the empire and declaring the occupation of the coastal territories of the Mediterranean by constructing architectural wonders under a ruler whose propagandistic position resulted from constructing and sponsoring harbour installations. The local political and administrative actions, the public and monumental works, and the benefactions of the Ptolemaic, Julio-Claudian, Flavian and Trajanic rulers did not merely express personal taste, but also, as demonstrated by some media, acted as propaganda in support of the imperial policy.91 Therefore, harbours represent a step forward in the growth of the seaborne empire, as these infrastructural elements and functions which were exclusive to key cities became commonly attested in other marine centres, as major monuments and images. Massive harbour buildings, especially on the facade of the port, highlight the scenographic effect of entering the mouth of a newly built harbour, with lighthouses, quays and moles across the harbour sector, and such an effect is conveyed in iconographic sources. The entrance is usually accompanied by two buildings (e.g. lighthouses and small temples), and there is a large podium temple on the other shore. The meaning of these buildings is prominent and has propagandistic implications. This is a pattern that is well represented by the harbour temple of Leptis Magna, which is placed along the side of the harbour opposite the entrance; here, the form of the superstructure is unknown as it survives only in part, but the temple dominated the newly restored Severan harbour. The terrace of the quay and the harbour front were provided with a central podium dedicated to Jupiter Dolichenus.92 This declaration of sovereign divinity is consistent, especially in the programmes of previous emperors, as visible in Augustan propaganda.93 Jupiter is the main divinity promoted during the Roman principate as a cult and symbol of the stability of the authority and state, and also of the consolidation of the provinces. The emperor owed his position to the celestial support of Jupiter, in addition to that of Neptune and other deities such as Portunus and Venus, whose patronage and protection allowed him to be appointed princeps. The imperial authority is the combatant vice-regent of Jupiter, and this directly links the ideological observations to the emperor and high-ranking officers as these were portrayed in military dress as evidence of the assimilation of the roles of Jupiter and the elite. Augustus, Claudius, Trajan and Septimius Severus were identified with Jupiter, and later addressed as Optimus. The temple has been associated with several deities in the past – suggestions include Hercules, Bacchus (as the divine patron of the harbour city and activity), Neptune and the Capitoline triad.94 The harbour entrance, lighthouses, walls,

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landing points and temples are components of the ideological plan associated with the worship of these deities. These divinities are patrons of Portus, Leptis and Alexandria, and their worship would have been ideal for the setting of these places and monuments. Authors relate that huge temples to various marine deities were likely placed at Alexandria, Leptis Magna and Rome, but also Ancona, Caesarea Maritima, Puteoli, Ravenna and other major coastal cities.95 These may also include the temples of Jupiter Dolichenus, Neptune and Venus, which were built to celebrate the victory and triumph of the Augusti as major propagandistic messages in support of the primary actors in the campaign.96 These harbour temples are also associated, and perhaps assimilated, with the emperors, as evidence that these deities played a role in dynastic ideology. These interpretations reveal a drastic shift in messages from those seen in the first iconographic subjects on ports. In the Trajanic and Severan harbours, the princeps built and ordered a complex in which the dense ideological programme forms the basis for future achievements, campaigns and security of the empire, as this was well before the Julio-Claudian period when emperors promoted themselves as officers of Jupiter and deities on earth. The continuous presence of deities, as part of the building programme of the harbour, through direct assimilation with the members of the imperial court are also attested by epigraphic and archaeological evidence. This lies in the monumental characteristics of the infrastructure – it is a feature of the harbour entrance, where the temple platform and lighthouses of these major hubs were located and which served as a base for the idealization of the emperor’s authority and presence.97 The conception of the harbour structures follows the scheme of celebratory and triumphal infrastructure, in honour and support of the Severan and Trajanic authority, and also victories in the provinces and consolidation of routes and power and thus implementation of contacts and trade within the Mediterranean territories. The programmatic display of the multifarious nature of maritime cityscapes shapes the triumphal and propagandistic messages and marks the triumphal conquest and return of the princeps along and into the Mediterranean with the complicity of divine patrons.98 Septimius Severus affirms the multiple meanings of triumph combined with celebratory willingness. This adoption exists to grant authority to his rule and establishes him as the successor and perpetuator of the princeps and ruler’s dynasty, including the initiation of a new period of peace, safety and stability for the empire. The harbour monuments shaped the pattern of imperial ideology established in Roman harbours into one appropriate for the founder of a dynasty. The diverse divinities and their propagandistic meanings are also markers of the growth of supremacy of the seaborne empire, and they expand

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the concept of victory and success beyond the boundaries of Rome thanks to the limitless potentiality of the Mediterranean Sea, and this is also reflected in the evolution of mercantile members. The constructions of Portus and Leptis Magna are principal indicators of the future of Classical antiquity, attesting to the spread of the symbolic power within more strategic and commercially relevant maritime sites, thus achieving the operational development of harbours and their spread in the repertoire of images.

Conclusion The argument that harbour imagery in the Classical Mediterranean held multiple meanings is not an attempt to merely establish another pattern but rather to emphasize the complex context in which the maritime world of the Roman period developed. That the harbour- and seascapes of this macro-region held sentimental significance during Roman times implies that the exploitation of the marine world and events of harbour life was given prominence over the history and propagation of urban centres and other monuments. The meanings contained within the images challenge the division that is based on cartographic and decorative purposes, and on influences from Mediterranean provinces. The symbolic, ideological and propagandistic importance of the visual interpretation of harbour sites influenced the development of a narrative based on geopolitical and economic foundations. More specifically, representations elaborated across Roman Italy in the first century ad responded to the imperial and mercantile narrative, and to the geography of the Mediterranean. The Romans placed further emphasis on the construction of an iconography of the imperial authority that was associated with the monumentality of port infrastructure and embedded within the Mediterranean, also symbolizing the way in which Rome itself exerted its control over the sea. In this way, they also stressed the significance of the Mediterranean, which is represented in these images as a place of transition, an economic and ritual space, and a reservoir of imperial ambitions.

4

Portraying Maritime Cityscapes: An Imperial Perspective Introduction This chapter will address the iconographic evidence for maritime cityscapes for the years between the first and the third centuries ad. These depictions contain details of imperial hegemony and policy. Below I will explore the (re-) establishment of monumental infrastructure, and the control operated over waterscapes, coastal settlements and marine routes, as well as the creation of an authority over seas until around the early third century ad. During Claudius’ and Nero’s principates, major infrastructural works involved the construction of port buildings, including moles, storage spaces, channelling and lighthouses. The construction of harbour structures and control over maritime routes were then represented across an extensive repertoire of media including numismatic evidence, friezes and reliefs, and the available information indicates that there was a dramatic expansion of economic and military interests across the Roman Mediterranean, as reflected in Julio-Claudian coins, Trajan’s Column and the Arch of Septimius Severus. Military control over the Mediterranean became well-defined, both physically and geographically, and this imperial policy was marked by activities and practices such as the creation of harbour images and narratives of a marine repertoire, which were displayed in public spaces, and the circulation and distribution of devices that recounted maritime endeavours and diffusion of a thalassocratic might.

Claudius and Nero: Monumental infrastructure The imperial authority employed images from the Mediterranean repertoire to depict ancient harbours and coastal cities. Emperors used these visual scenes to celebrate prosperity and security, but they also exploited them as reminders of

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their regimes’ endeavours in constructing and developing monumental maritime infrastructure. These images also represented control over coastal cities, markets and waters, and indicated the power of the imperial authority. Among these images is the Nero sestertius, which portrays a richly detailed harbour scene that relates to, or at least takes inspiration from, Ostia and Portus (Fig. 4.1). Claudius commissioned the construction of a monumental artificial harbour north of Ostia at Portus, which was an enormous task crucial for the sustenance and welfare of Rome. The features of this monumental infrastructure are also visible in the accounts of several Classical authors, who mention the prohibitive cost of this engineering adventure and the layout of the harbour that comprised huge quays, artificial moles and storage buildings, and which enclosed a large water basin and had at its mouth an artificial island provided with a lighthouse tower with a beacon of light.1 However, the harbour did not resolve the issue regarding the supply of commodities. In ad 62, a storm (recorded by Tacitus) destroyed several vessels anchored within the harbour, which prompted Nero and Trajan to take additional initiatives to allay people’s anxieties and prevent the shortage of foodstuffs. A coin from ad 64 has a depiction on the reverse related to this initiative. In Rome, the engraved sestertius portrays the emperor Nero on the observe, and an elaborate harbour scene on the reverse. The reverse includes a range of harbour buildings and ships as the key focus of a ‘panoramic’ scene of the preceding Claudian harbour, surrounded by storage rooms, statues, porticoes, gods and tiny male figures at work. The Nero sestertius depicts a level of architectural complexity that is unusual in Classical art. The coin not only provides information that is not

Fig. 4.1  Nero’s coin, Rome. MAN Naples, Inv. 4510 FR. Pedicini MN 4030.

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evident in the physical remains but also indicates how the messages and perceptions of the Claudian harbour were communicated through the image itself. The coin is, of course, a more valuable medium than a fixed object as it allows viewers to see aspects of a giant built structure. The coin depicts Portus’ lighthouse as a very tall element, standing at the mouth of the harbour, and it also depicts a statue that likely represents Neptune. The lighthouse works as an ‘imitation’ of the one at Alexandria, but would have been part of a die-engraver’s repertoire, and thus this statue is not thought to be based on any specific one, although it plausibly depicts Nero. On the Nero sestertius, the statue of Neptune is depicted in front of the lighthouse. The monumental statue of Neptune features in the representation of the Claudian harbour, in addition to other statues standing on the lighthouse itself. For the purpose of interpreting the layout of the harbour, the statue stands at the entrance, at the location of the lighthouse. The great level of detail in this representation gives a degree of symbolic ‘verisimilitude’ to the scene. The finely rendered ships perhaps imply the familiarity of the engraver with the marine world and seafaring. This accuracy allows viewers to identify the types of ships, such as an enormous navis onoraria, a merchant ship used to carry huge quantities of cereals and characterized by its great form and size – thus emphasizing the symbolic elements relating to grain and food conservation, and storage and life sustenance – and a corbita, whose name attests to its form and limited, albeit important, capacity.2 The box-shaped structure on the ship’s deck is the deckhouse, which contains cabins for the officers and passengers, and which is a central characteristic of a ship designed for longdistance trade, such as those carrying grain between Egypt and Italy, which took several weeks.3 Another vessel hosts a sailor unloading goods from a large boat onto a caudicaria (a river boat), which, at Portus and Ostia, was fundamental for the transport of goods from Portus to Rome.4 To the right of the lighthouse statue, a Roman military ship makes its way out of the harbour. Although the Claudian basin was used for the import of cereals and other goods, the presence of a galley is a symbol of Rome’s military power and hegemony and the safety it assures to the coasts and waters. The diverse typology of ships of course contains a promise of abundance and prosperity, and it also stresses the metaphoric value of the scenes as the personified god of Portus, with his rudder and dolphin, is a symbol of the harbour, including the lighthouse statue and port buildings, such as breakwaters, quays and storage spaces. The benevolence of the sponsors is revealed by the inscriptions on the reverse that tell us more about the value of the harbour and its commissioner, and the ships and boats represent the purpose of the infrastructure, in tandem with the god’s and emperor’s presence.

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The coin commemorated the ten-year anniversary of the harbour’s dedication, perhaps implying Nero’s attempt to gain credit for this major infrastructure by depicting the complex through such a medium.5 The symbolic value of the coin’s representation lies in Portus, which was likely the greatest port of the ancient world and during Claudius’ time was still a work in progress, as were the aqueduct, darsena and other buildings that were completed under Nero. The symbolic imagery also represents the emperor’s interest in demonstrating care for and interest in the strength of the infrastructural programme of the Mediterranean trade network.6 Therefore, the harbour scene in this case pays homage to the emperor’s plans to make a set of interlinked and connected coastal centres and ports. It also held multiple meanings for the people who passed by it during the first century ad, and it contains several messages, of which the most straightforward is the intricate combination of structures on land and ships on water, which emphasizes abundance, control and the presence of authority. The coin stresses the efficiency of grain supply thanks to the gigantic harbour superstructures at Ostia and Portus. The divine personification of Rome’s grain dole (the annona) appears on Roman coinage, usually holding a cornucopia and facing the goddess Ceres and the prow of a ship.7 Marine life is central to the panoramic scene of the Claudian harbour imagery – the harbour is surrounded by buildings, gods, statues and tiny human figures carrying out their duties.8 The Nero coin shows both architectural and iconographical complexity that goes beyond the identification of the port depicted or the artistic value of the coin itself; this tells us a story of the ‘monumentality’ of the harbour. The coin also shows the engraver’s perception of the Claudian harbour, and reveals the messages conveyed by the huge structures and their roles. In general, architectural images on coins are unlikely to be faithful reproductions, but the buildings and monuments depicted on the Nero coin are closely linked to those which they portray. It is also possible that the structures depicted are works in progress.9 The harbour on the Ostia and Portus coin is not accurate in scale and proportion, and neither is the handful of ships filling the basin. This shows the engravers’ skills in depicting and conveying to the audience a sense of monumentality through a combination of accuracy and imagination in order to produce the impression – although this is not a picture – of an idealized marine landscape. This act of architectural interpretation gives the viewer something more reliable than a simple representation, thus allowing them to see what aspects of the structures were considered the most important by the commissioners of the coinage.10 The task of the die-engravers was to render the entirety of the Claudian harbour, especially in the architecture, shapes, deities and ships, and the Portus

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coin is a key example of the engravers’ choices and interpretations: various numbers of ships are depicted (between seven and eleven), and other small variants include the human figures and the number of columns or arches, which can change slightly according to the artist. The consistency of the superstructures and architectural characteristics of the harbour ships emphasize the relevance of the marine world, and this stresses the monumental features and the role of harbour imagery during the Roman era. The Nero coin contains elements inspired by the Claudian harbour. The form of the harbour, with its mouth, the island with the lighthouse, gigantic curving moles, and storage rooms and porticoed spaces, presents an impressionistic portrayal. The aim of the representation is to convey a multivalent message on the monumentality and the features of the structures portrayed rather than to focus on the accuracy of specific details of the harbour. The aim of both commissioner and engraver was to depict a generic, albeit well-established, port environment and seascape, and to represent ships within the narrow harbour space. For instance, the ships that mirror the pattern in the Torlonia relief and on Roman sarcophagi are depicted together with the structures in the foreground of the image, and these indirectly attest to the capacity and the size of the storage structures. The loss of several grain ships during the storm recorded by Tacitus was a great shock for the Rome annona, and this image – rendered on the very familiar medium of a coin – of cargo ships carrying grain is evidence of abundance, harmonious life and wellbeing. The importing of cereals, as well as several exotic and luxury commodities, was certainly essential for the sustenance of Rome’s population and for the prevention of shortages. In Roman coinage the presence of the annona, the goddess Ceres and details of ships also relate to the growth of the sense of safety and security for the shipping of commodities. Therefore, a gigantic harbour that allows for the docking of a high number of large, loaded ships transmits a message of security and stability. The architecture and vessels highlight the features of the harbour image. The deity presiding over the harbour is Portus, depicted reclining with a rudder and a dolphin, perhaps to elucidate the symbolization of the harbour itself. The lighthouse, warehouses and other harbour structures recall the functions of the infrastructure, and the lettering on the reverse of the coin that refers to Portus, as well as the boats and cargoes, undoubtedly represents the real message of the marine image. The circulation of this coin during the Nero principate (and later) might have celebrated the commemoration of the harbour opening after the completion of Claudius’ works.11 Nero would not only have celebrated the infrastructure after Claudius, but would also have presented his improvement

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works within specific sectors as a homage to the former emperor and as a continuation of the works that were in progress at Portus during his reign.12 Nero’s coin highlights the relevance within the Roman world of marine installations at the main Mediterranean centres.13 The harbour scene engraved on the sestertius was a tribute, a message, almost a propagandistic one, to convey and spread the idea to a very wide audience that the Roman Mediterranean was finally a navigable, safe and well-connected sea. This coin presents vivid iconography which contains multiple meanings and held significance for those who admired it as it passed through their hands; these meanings were conveyed through a set of messages that might have awoken different emotions in the observers. The messages are difficult to pin down precisely, considering that this media reached a multifaceted and wide audience, from the elite to the common people; however, the clearest message is contained in the ships sailing from the harbour, which convey abundance, prosperity and welfare, as well as a statement on the infinite potential of the sea and that the port, under the protection of the ruler, and thanks to its monumental features, is now a liveable place. The sea is, in other words, a friend and a partner in trade and commerce, under the auspices and with the complicity of the main authority. The harbour features on the rounded coin also provide further insights into multiple messages relating to the construction, investment in and promotion of large infrastructure by a diverse class of people, from the direct intervention of the emperor (Claudius and then Nero in this specific case) to the engineer of the navy or army (e.g. caementarius, duplarius) who planned the architecture, the workers employed in building huge sectors of the harbour, and the corporations and the mercantile class involved in supporting and exploiting the harbour for various purposes. Therefore, this harbour engraved on the coin presents a myriad of meanings. It also presents a sense of monumentality in the huge harbour walls (built to last for eternity), the large-scale use of concrete and the stability and power expressed by the use of stone and other materials. The architecture is immediately recognizable as monumental.14

Trajan’s Column: Control over the water The Trajan Column is probably one of the most impressive visual media that contains straightforward port scenes and architectures depicted. It arguably represents the zenith of the evolution and development of harbour images in Classical art.15 The Column is a free-standing triumphal building, which was

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commissioned by the Roman Senate to celebrate the emperor’s military achievements during the Dacian Wars.16 It is located at the northernmost point of Trajan’s Forum. The identification of the maritime scenes as specific ports has prompted ongoing debate, as several difficulties arise when attempting to identify the actual Mediterranean (in this case Adriatic) and non-port cities.17 For generations of scholars, the port scenes carved on the Column have been the subject of various interpretations.18 While earlier studies offer some unconvincing analyses, recent works have proposed a more open approach in reading the scenes.19 Among many other buildings, the architect of Trajan’s Column undoubtedly ‘depicted’ ports, but, while it is perhaps possible to identify transregional scenes, it is more challenging to associate several scenes with particular ports, as there is very little evidence by which to identify individual cities; therefore, harbour depictions might have been included within the visual narration for alternative scopes. Harbour scenes are found in friezes LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXVI, and LXXXVII in particular, the primary subject of which is the events that occurred during the Second Dacian War (Fig. 4.2).20 These friezes, at least in part, depict embarkation and disembarkation at ports that have long been identified as those of Rome, Trieste, Aquileia, Ravenna and Ancona.21 These scenes were intended to emphasize the role these harbours played in campaign, and perhaps their importance in the context of sectors of the Mediterranean, such as the Adriatic and Tyrrhenian Seas, and possibly also the Aegean and Black Seas.22 Scenes LXXIX–LXXX provide some important evidence of a port considered to be in the Mediterranean (perhaps the Adriatic). A detail on the left-hand side of the carved relief suggests that this is a depiction of a port from which the fleet departed in order to reach Dacia: it is a temple, located on the top of a hill and containing a statue of a deity, often identified as Venus, situated within the portico and outside the cella. A road, which connects the temple to the harbour front, is situated below, and another temple is situated along the shore, at the foot of the hill.23 The port area has a large quay, at the end of which a triumphal arch stands; here, three statues, identified as Mercury, Neptune and Portunus, tower above the attic. This scene further contains a colonnaded building – perhaps a shipyard – situated in the middle of the slope of the hill, and there is also a building with arches located near the port.24 Towards the right-hand side of the scene is a depiction of departure with ships and oarsmen led by the emperor, who is on a centrally lofted ship and illuminated by a lantern. Trajan, with his officers, addresses his sailors and encourages his men to leave the port. Officers holding ensigns and manoeuvring

Fig. 4.2  Trajan’s Column relief, scene LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXII, LXXXVI–LXXXVII, Rome. C. Cichorius (1896).

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the ships convey the suggestion of movement. These military galleys, i.e. triremes and biremes, are rendered with sails furled. In the ships, the stern, which contains the cabins of sailors and helmsmen, is evident, while rams and decorations – apotropaic eyes together with seahorses – are visible in the bow.25 Aside from Trajan, two officers face away from the upper side of the harbour, also bearing torches, perhaps suggesting the idea of night, the presence of strong winds but more likely rather the direction of sailing and departure from the harbour, or much simpler indicating the present of water. Scene LXXX likely represents a continuation of the previous one and thus suggests a certain narrative continuity. Here, the prows of the ships are illustrated in the act of sailing and reaching port. The port is represented by a long quay built in opus quadratum and provided with a series of vaulted and arch-shaped structures.26 On the upper level, a fire is being stoked on an altar and ornamented with garlands. On the lower level, another port building which cannot be identified with certainty may constitutes the quay, as also suggested by the crowd observing the arrival of the fleet and landing operations.27 Close to the altar, although barely identifiable, one can see a bull on the dock, ready to be sacrificed to the gods, perhaps for the safe arrival of the ships or for victory and good fortune for the campaign. A crowd of people, including a child, greets the Roman soldiers at the oars. While on the left the ships do not seem to be moving, as the rowers are intent on listening to Trajan, on the right the ships can be imagined as being in motion, or at the end of the journey, after the end of the emperor’s discourse. It seems that the biremes and galleys are landing in a different port along the Mediterranean coast (either Italian or Illyrian Adriatic?).28 This scene contains a series of elements open to doubt that are, as such, unlikely to provide answers regarding its identification, as the port represented here is likely different from the previous one. Harbour scene LXXIX has been long identified as Ancona, as this port was the object of Trajan’s interest and some buildings carved in the relief seem to represent this city. Scholars, such as Degrassi, Rossi, and Stucchi, have argued that the Roman fleet moved to the Danubian front, departing from the port of Ancona, and supported this claim through the identification of two buildings represented in the scene LXXIX.29 These structures are the arch with statues at its top (of Trajan?) and a temple, located in the background (of Venus?), which is argued to be on the site of the current S. Ciriaco Cathedral.30 The strong point of this hypothesis is that the Col Guasco hill and the buildings depicted there – such as the arch and temple – can be found only in this city. Further support for this reading comes from Lepper and Frere to Settis, who associate the arched

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structures in the background with either quays or naval buildings, thus arguing for the existence of a shipyard in Ancona.31 However, to date, little archaeological evidence has been found which supports this point. The temple is depicted on the top of a hill and contains the statue of a deity, which prompted scholars such as Settis to identify it as the Temple of Venus.32 The setting of the temple, together with the other details, including colonnaded buildings and shipyards, convinced him too that the scene depicts Ancona: according to Settis’ interpretations, the temple located on the top of the hill is that of Venus, which was mentioned by Catullus and Juvenal.33 The temple at the foot of the hill has been identified as that of Diomedes, of which no evidence survives, aside from a brief mention by Scylax, probably because it was destroyed by erosion.34 The vaulted structures carved in the background of the scene also led Settis to identify it as Ancona. That said, they also prompted other scholars, such as Coarelli, to read it as a different location, for example Brindisi.35 Coarelli associates scene LXXIX with Brindisi because of the arch-shaped buildings, possibly shipyards, in the upper background.36 This hypothesis is plausible if one considers the military capacity of this port in antiquity and the network facilities that connected this city with the Tyrrhenian side using the Via Appia, Rome– Brindisi.37 But Coarelli also suggested that the choppy waves inside the harbour, as carved in the scene, represent the presence of strong winds, thus reinforcing the hypothesis of an alternative port location, such as Brindisi;38 however, this iconographic detail could also be an attempt by the artists to indicate water rather than a windy environment. Reddé suggests that this scene represents the military harbour of Ravenna. This is a rational interpretation from a strategic point of view, as Ravenna was the seat of the eastern fleet, linked with the Danubian frontiers and had a close relationship with the Classis Venetum, which may have been based in Aquileia (depicted in LXXXII?).39 Reddé bases his hypothesis on the location and purpose of this Adriatic port; however, apart from the arch, which could be the Porta Aurea at Ravenna, no further evidence allows us to test more fully this hypothesis. For Coarelli’s and Reddé’s interpretations of Brindisi and Ravenna, one should bear in mind the suggestion that these ports had logistical advantages and perhaps the appropriate infrastructure to accommodate a war fleet, such as that involved in the Dacian War, especially if compared with Ancona, which underwent improvements after the campaign.40 Conversely, Ancona’s port was perhaps larger than that of Brindisi, which was also an unfavourable starting point for crossing the Adriatic owing to poor weather.41 Leaving aside Reddé’s

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and Coarelli’s ideas on Brindisi and Ravenna, it is remarkably difficult to understand why Trajan would have led the troops from Rome to Dacia by crossing the Apennines and then reached the Danubian frontiers from Ancona with several stops at Adriatic, and perhaps Balkan, ports. This suggests that other readings are possible. Trajan’s Arch at Ancona deserves further analysis, as it is a key element in reinterpreting the Column’s scene and its meaning as well as a source of inspiration for harbour architecture patterns. The arch was studied by antiquarians and archaeologists from 1500s onwards, and latterly was explored in terms of its close relationship with the Column’s reliefs: very little consideration has been given to its setting and its scope, which theoretically, supports the assessment of the relief ’s scene.42 The free-standing triumphal arch, which was erected in ad 115 and dedicated to Trajan, is still located along the northern mole of the modern port.43 The 4m-deep foundations reveal an octagonal plan, formed by stone blocks – i.e. perhaps from the Istria and Conero quarries – bonded with concrete. The arch is 19 m high and 10 m wide, and features four engaged columns with Corinthian capitals.44 On the two sides of the arch are large triangular holes that are still visible and which have been interpreted as supports for fixing ship’s rostra.45 A group of statues must have stood at the top of the attic, but there is very little evidence for their disposition.46 The attic facade was also completed with an inscription recording the dedication by the Senate and people to Trajan in thanksgiving for sponsoring the new port and, as the lettering states, for having made it a safer place for the ships anchored there.47 The real purpose of the arch has been the subject of debate amongst scholars.48 The arch, however, provides evidence that enables the revision of previous interpretations of the scene. The statues in the relief have always been identified as Mercury, Neptune and Portuno, whereas, in reality, a group of statues representing Trajan and his relatives, such as Plotina and Marciana, the emperor’s wife and sister respectively, perhaps stood on the attic.49 The presence of these statues is further confirmed by findings of bronze fragments and the bronze hoof of a horse near the port area, at the end of the 1600s, and also a bronze finger and another hoof, which were discovered later in the 1700s.50 On the basis of the recorded of the tribunicia potestas of the attic inscription, Mommsen dated the arch to ad 115, when it was built during or after the restoration of the port facilities.51 As Alfieri highlighted, owing to the erosion that affects the harbour area, the earlier Roman mole was likely to have been almost completely eroded away and then abandoned as a mooring-point after Trajan’s intervention; however, the lack of archaeological evidence means this

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remains a hypothesis.52 Therefore, this detail has prompted scholars to consider an alternative scenario: Trajan restored the city and its port during the preparations for the Dacian campaign, but the chronological incongruity does not support this point. The arch was dedicated in ad 115, and we know that Trajan’s Column was erected in ad 113, two years before the completion of the port works, although it is possible that frieze was carved after the construction of the monument.53 The identification of Ancona in the LXXIX relief is not definitive. The theory that planners commissioned a group of statues for the honorific arch which excluded the emperor himself is also weak. Alfieri suggested that in ad 113 the arch was still under construction, and so it is possible to hypothesize a broader chronological period, which includes the opening of the Roman monument and the dedicatory inscription of the arch; this, combined with Mommsen’s reading, supports the hypothesis that the building of the arch, and port facilities, was completed in ad 115.54 On balance, this port might be interpreted as that of another Adriatic city from which Trajan set out, such as Aquileia, Brindisi, Ravenna or a Tyrrhenian port. Uncertainty has been accepted by some scholars, though they have not posited definite alternatives; for example, Alfieri stated that there is nothing surprising about seeing Ancona depicted in another scene on Trajan’s Column.55 If we look at the number of port representations carved in the reliefs, we might assume a number of different landings and also that the fleet sailed by cabotage, following the arched shape of the northern Adriatic rather than the most common route from Ancona to Zadar. It is thus possible to reinterpret the scene of Trajan’s embarkation as being related to a harbour in the northern Adriatic or perhaps even in the Tyrrhenian area, if not somewhere else altogether. Ancona, in fact, may also have inspired scene LXXXII, which depicts the departure of the emperor from another harbour with an arch built on the mole, whose shape could correspond to that port.56 Hypotheses are based on the adverse wintry weather, and the emperor was obliged to take the slower coastal route, which the artists of Trajan’s Column sought to indicate by using a number of stylistic stratagems including, for instance, oars instead of sails; this implies a certain number of stops and a long journey.57 Moreover, it is unlikely that Trajan, given his plans for the port of Ancona, would have decided to set out from there, especially as the port, although capacious, could not have accommodated large ships, and one should thus be careful about identifying scene LXXXII as Ancona itself. Therefore, it is possible to propose that Ancona was one of the harbours visited during Trajan’s journey but was not the main departure point, and that

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Ancona is framed within the wider context of the propaganda of that time, as it was one of the cities visited by the emperor which, after the successful campaign, received reinforcements and a new port. Scenes LXXXVI–LXXXVII depict a harbour, which must represent one of those at which Trajan stopped when sailing towards Dacia. Set at the beginning of the Second Dacian War, the scene shows Trajan, followed by a procession of fellow soldiers and sailors, preparing to make a sacrifice (a bull is on the ground, at the emperor’s side), while some of the mariners are completing the landing and the anchoring of the ships. The scene depicts a harbour town, and in the background there is a theatre, a temple and a portico, surrounded by the city buildings.58 A bridge demarcates the port building on the left-hand side, while on the right-hand side evidence of a city wall likely marks the boundary of the town. The bridge suggests a riverine environment, and a huge vaulted structure, on which the crowd and the emperor are standing and sacrificing, is noticeable; it is probably a quay. The military ship, already seen in scene LXXIX, are carved in this scene, as is evidenced by the bow of the galley from which officers and soldiers are disembarking; similarly, the same ships are visible in the scene LXXXVII where these are docked at the port with unfurled sails.59 These scenes have been identified as representations of Aquileia’s river port because of the local environment and the facilities depicted.60 Stucchi and Rossi, in particular, argued for the interpretation of Aquileia’s harbour by identifying some of the city buildings, including the forum, a huge quadriportico, the harbour itself and the triumphal arch, which could represent the starting point of the via Gemina (connecting Aquileia with Trieste). Rossi’s interpretation stems from the presence of buildings such as the amphitheatre, the quay of the fluvial port, a bridge, and the main forum, which had to be located close to the harbour area, scene LXXIX.61 This interpretation is supported by Degrassi, who identified the people carved in the relief as a crowd gathered in the forum of Aquileia. However, he later revised this reading, as he thought that the narrative of the scene did not match his own proposal. Settis’ theory is more cautious, but he identifies the relief scene as a Dalmatian port.62 He interprets the port scene as Zadar, hypothesizing that during the Roman era the fastest and most common way of reaching the other side of the Adriatic was to follow the Ancona–Zadar route. Of the many interpretations of scene LXXXVI, Froehner has argued for Ravenna while Domaszewski and Gauer proposed that this scene depicts either an Northern Adriatic or a Dalmatian port.63 Lepper interpreted the represented port town as Salona without taking into account any architectural elements, but

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simply by considering the Ancona–Salona route as the most likely option.64 Other readings identified this port scene as Salona (Cichorius), Trieste (Stucchi) or Durres (Degrassi).65 Coarelli proposed an almost entire revision of the port reliefs, suggesting that scene LXXIX represents Brindisi rather than Ancona. Coarelli’s interpretation is based not only on the possible distance between the Italian and Balkan sides along this tract of the Adriatic, but also on the suggestion that this was the route followed by Trajan in order to reach the Balkan side; he would then have had to sail down the Sava and Danube in order to reach Dacian territory.66 Coarelli proposes that scene LXXXVI represents a port of the Dalmatian or Albanian region, e.g. Durres,67 as these are located along the fastest routes towards the Danubian region. Blackman and Rankov observed that the port scene LXXIX could depict shipyard buildings, as also proposed by Coarelli, and suggested that the harbour cities depicted may have been those of the Tyrrhenian coast, such as Puteoli or Misenum,68 where the emperor may have started his journey with some of the troops. This hypothesis influences the interpretation of scene LXXXVI, which may not necessarily be interpreted as Aquileia. But also, the identification of scenes LXXXVI–LXXXVII with Aquileia becomes problematic and, consequently, most of the Adriatic ports carved in the relief require review. Although the convincing iconographic evidence for a river environment, i.e. a bridge and a long platform, may be reminiscent of a fluvial quay, such as that of Aquileia, no direct evidence of buildings such as those carved in the background of the scene can be matched within this city. Although it is possible that Aquileia is the port in the scene, this interpretation falls flat if the first scene (LXXIX) is identified as either a Tyrrhenian port or Brindisi. The Aquileia’ scene in LXXXVI–LXXXVII also raises once more the question of whether scene LXXIX was a Tyrrhenian port when one considers the possible representation of shipbuilding: historically, and as proven by archaeological evidence, during that period Portus was reinforced through the construction of the Trajan basin, Brindisi’s port was connected to Rome through the new Via Appia, Ancona’s model was rebuilt, Ravenna underwent several rounds of restoration works and a canal was constructed between the town and the port sector. These confirm that during the first and the second century ad, much renovation occurred across the Italian peninsula, especially on the Adriatic side. Therefore, all the ports mentioned here are ‘candidates’ – i.e. they may have acted as subject of the friezes of Trajan’s Column. It is extremely difficult to state whether the harbour town depicted in scene LXXXVI is a specific city. Furthermore, it is not possible to exploit the arguments

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around the iconography of Trajan’s Column from a solely topographic perspective, which highlights the incongruities in each observation. The ‘Aquileia’ scene, more than the ‘Ancona’ one, illustrates the limitations of such investigation of iconography. Moreover, the characteristics of the ports carved in the first scenes are common for every harbour site of that time, whether on the Mediterranean side or not; although individual buildings such as arches, bridges, and temples may in some cases be representative of cities such Aquileia or Ancona, this is not enough to provide confirmation but rather leaves us in the realm of hypothesis all the readings proposed. A consideration of the architectonic and ideological value of the scenes of the Column may reconcile some of these discrepancies. For such Mediterranean port scenes, it is difficult to identify the ports from which Trajan set out in the reliefs on Trajan’s Column, not only because of the challenge of identifying the depicted cities, structures and buildings but also because of the uncertainty of the narrative chronology and environmental conditions. However, the reliefs on Trajan’s Column reveal further information about the environments depicted, the improvement and embellishment of port facilities along the Tyrrhenian and the Adriatic, which were key nodes between Rome and the provinces. In this context, port scenes are dense with potential military, political and social meanings, and the propagandistic character is more relevant than the specific topography of the place, as the depiction of so many port facilities is evidence of the artistic aim of representing these structures and their economic and strategic power. In view of the works likely to be carried out at these ports, the Column could be considered a boastful assertion not only of the success of the military campaign but also of the full control of waterways and sea routes and renovation works. Although it is almost impossible to identify the geographical places precisely, it is possible to suggest that the harbour reliefs manifest the intention of the emperor to highlight the centrality and the importance of ports. The ports in each scene are specifically portrayed, with visible details of mole, quay and platform, and their general layout is rendered with care. The structures in the background, such as shipyards and vaulted buildings, as well as temples, gardens and city buildings, seem characterized by a more generic, albeit sophisticated, style, thus indicating that accuracy in the rendering of a particular building from a specific city was not the point. The carving is, however, particularly accurate in the representation of ships, sailors, and commanders, suggesting that the cityscapes functioned as the background of the port scene and that the port and crowd were given priority. The details of the ships and port enhance the

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verisimilitude of the harbour scene and the scale of the structures. This visual message implies the emperor’s effort to demonstrate to the viewers not only the conquest of new provinces, like Dacia, but also that these new provinces were reachable thanks to the infrastructure commissioned by him and his predecessors and the mercantile class. In this regard, harbours and marine superstructures represented a key means of demonstrating these achievements. The Column depicts the representations and/or renovation of ports that could have been Tyrrhenian and/or Adriatic, and the collaboration of the Senate, the people and the army/navy in participating in and contributing to this broad renovation plan.69 The reliefs demonstrate the interest of the emperor in the commercial and military ports of the Mediterranean Sea. Trajan, during his Dacian campaign, would have run a large programme of works to consolidate and renovate some of the most important harbours that played a key role in the military and commercial purposes and an ancillary role in the economy of Italy and the broader Mediterranean macro-region. Overall, the harbour scenes on Trajan’s Column offer an homage to the emperor’s attempts to make monumental Mediterranean and Italian ports safer places that interact and work together with the pan-Mediterranean world, which was now seen as a more navigable place. The Column can be considered a propagandistic and symbolic vehicle, and it is likely the first depiction of harbours within the context of the Dacian and Parthian Wars, and perhaps should be linked with the attempt to stress the works promoted by Claudius, Nero and Trajan at Portus, Puteoli, Ravenna and Ancona.70 The many works sponsored by the emperor during his principate should be linked to the port scenes on Trajan’s Column, as they emphasize the power and the magnificence of Trajan, but they do not all necessarily depict specific Mediterranean harbours.71 As noted above, the identification of each port site is challenging, and the hubs of the Adriatic, and perhaps even some Tyrrhenian ports, may be source of inspiration or represented as pattern for iconographic representation.72 Thus, the friezes containing port scenes held multiple meanings for the viewers from antiquity. The clearest message conveyed by these scenes is a symbolic one of prosperity and abundance, of established hubs that work with the new frontiers of the empire; a message of restoration and co-operation with the locals, who attended the arrival of the emperor in each scene; and a message of the interest of the emperor and senate in strengthening the infrastructures of the Adriatic. This wider emphasis also refers to engineering activities, the building of infrastructure and the control of the landscape, thus providing the background for imperial ventures and related achievements.

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The Arch of Septimius Severus: Authority The Arch of Septimius Severus at Leptis Magna contains iconographic details that announce authority and control over the resources of the maritime empire through constructing superstructures and similarly awe-inspiring constructions. The depiction of monumental constructions, such as a lighthouse and renovated harbour structures, is not just an act of personal accomplishment or a mere celebration of an architectural wonder, i.e. mirabilia.73 The lighthouse, which has often been iconographically associated with the emperor’s presence as well as political and economic initiatives and the promotion of major works and sponsorships, relates to acts of imperial policy.74 The lighthouse on the relief of the Severan Arch functions as a reminder of the theme of imperial authority. That authority held sway across the entire empire, and the monumental structures, which are also found at Portus and Leptis Magna, function as triumphal imagery and as symbols that, through the emperor’s power, the major Mediterranean cities and hubs are connected. The massive lighthouse mirrors the pattern at Alexandria in terms of monumentality and iconographic representation; indeed the scene presents the same model used for the Alexandrian images in that the entrance of the Severan harbour is flanked by a lighthouse tower. Along the harbourside, a set of temples face the entrance – temples which, as indicated by epigraphic evidence, are dedicated to Jupiter Dolichenus, Bacchus and Hercules.75 The relief panels of the Severan Arch at Leptis display imperial authority entering the city – the central figure of Septimius Severus on a chariot accompanied by Caracalla and Geta – thereby associating them with the harbour structures and monuments (Fig. 4.3). Of the harbour structures, the lighthouse is portrayed as the key architectural element within the processional scene; the procession passes through the harbour to the urban centre. The signalling tower marks the location of the triumphal parade from the harbour to the forum. The harbour sector links the major public spaces of the city, which are also connected by the lighthouse and large warehouses. The lighthouse marks the beginning of the harbour sector for those arriving from the sea, signifying the emperor’s presence and imposing his authority over the African city. Therefore, the harbour, when seen from a maritime perspective, and its marine facade replace or at least integrate the position previously filled by the arches and the triumphal gate. The arches of Augustus, Titus and Trajan portray these buildings as architectural markers of success, victory and also domination of territories, which indicates that the procession is a triumphal one. The elite, deities, mercantile class and

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Fig. 4.3  NW frieze, Arch of Septimius Severus, Leptis Magna. D-DAI-ROM 61.1695.

patrons, and the decoration and presence of captives and civilians on the arches, support the argument that this is the celebration of a victory and the establishment and manifestation of the imperial authority, and not just a parade or the sponsoring of main urban structures. The lighthouse carved in the arch relief indicates that the whole complex is associated with Septimius Severus. The lighthouse is portrayed as a multistorey building on three levels with high vaulted arches.76 It marks the position of the harbour in the coastal area. This sector also contains the monuments to the princeps, such as temples, which were part of the administration and authority of the imperial elite, and were involved in later efforts to make widespread the rule and power of the Severans.77 In fact, the presence of temples within the harbour sector indicates the devotion to Jupiter Dolichenus and links to the cult of Sol Invictus, which reveals close connections with the Severans.78 The location of the temple within the harbour sector connected to this deity, who protected both army and princeps, indicates that the main purpose of such structures was to favour the programme of improvement and of the construction of new markets and ports. The dedicatory inscription certainly attributes the construction to the authority of the Severans, but the construction of the harbour and its sectors for worship also indicates protection for a community of mercantile elite and harbour workers who would not have prospered along the North African coasts without his benevolence and support. Thus, its representation indicates the authority but also, and especially, the complicity and participation of the army, which is stressed and visible in the dedication of the harbour temple. The dedication to Jupiter Dolichenus indicates the identity of

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the cult and the protection of the mole, as evidenced by the location of the small temples at the top of the moles, thus implying that the Severan renovation of the harbour in reality followed a reordered authoritative plan that aimed to promote the ideological monumentalization of the coast, under the auspices and safeguarding of the triad that at Leptis comprises Jupiter, Hercules and Bacchus. The temples face the harbour mouth near the terminal of the moles, and these were visible when entering the port area and characterized the marine facade at Leptis. These temples form, in combination with the lighthouse and the other port structures placed along the waterfront, part of the overall harbourreconstruction and building programme of the Severans.79 In addition, the presence of major warehouses and also deities emphasized commerce and trade; for example, Hercules and Bacchus are presented not only as patrons of the city but also as traveller deities in the ancient world.80 The Severan building programme, and its use of dynastic propaganda, in the main cities of the Mediterranean concentrates on urban planning and sculptural display as strategies for projecting self- and dynastic identity. The sculptural programme on the arch is also reminiscent of the innovative historical reliefs and the related presence and importance of the lighthouse within the arch itself. The Severan programme includes styles, themes, metaphors and identity in architectural, infrastructural and urban development, and the perception that Septimius Severus is the new Augustus. The advent of the Severan dynasty represents a crucial moment in authority and policy as this principate occupied a phase of prosperity; it offered a continuation of the growth and welfare of the Julio-Claudian dynasty and later rulers, before the military anarchy and instability that characterized most of the third century ad.81 Thus, the presence of the lighthouse reveals the tensions that arose during the period, and the deliberate use of iconography and expressions in the art of Septimius Severus and its messages of authority and control indicate the willingness to associate the principate with a reputation for accomplishments and stability. The Severan harbour-development programme at Leptis Magna probably echoed that at Portus. The architectural reconstruction of Leptis reflects a reception of the major works undertaken at the main port of Rome, after Claudius and Trajan, as these images seem to contain propagandistic echoes that present Septimius Severus as the new Trajan. The enhancements at Leptis harbour include the monumentalization of its structures, from the harbour walls and platforms to the erection of the lighthouse and a set of facilities and temples that were built within the port sector. In other words, the representation of Leptis’ lighthouse depicts the construction scheme of a major building and

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portrays it as a major triumphal structure to emphasize the Severan achievements.82 The reliefs of the Arch of Septimius Severus in the forum at Leptis Magna include a four-storey lighthouse, which is a tower with arched vaulted openings (acting as platforms, doors and chambers) that allow light to spread from the beacon on its top.83 The lighthouse is located in the background of the scene, in some ways mirroring some of the harbour scenes on Trajan’s Column.84 The relief panels also include the departure of the emperors and they share in the ceremonies for the opening of the harbour’s religious monuments.85 The lighthouse is the only visible architectural monument in the whole scene, but it offers evidence that the scene portrays the harbour sector of this imaginary seascape. The lighthouse works as an architectural marker for the path of the ritual procession that occurred within the harbour, possibly indicating the beginning or the end point of the procession. The signalling tower is now perceived as a major monument that replaced the marine gate as the architectural marker of imperial authority following triumphs. Similarly, the Arches of Titus and Constantine, which include the gate as context for the procession, celebrate military achievements and mark the authority of the commanders, although their depictions reveal deeper, multivalent meanings. The chariot, deities and horses of course attest and emphasize victory, and the depiction of barbarians indicates the authority and triumph of the Severii. The rendering of the monumental lighthouse provides context for the propagation of authority and triumphal imagery that communicates celebratory and votive aspects. It also reinforces the return of the imperial family to North Africa and the whole Mediterranean, under the auspices and the protection of tutelary deities. Septimius Severus combines military achievement and divine patronage to establish his prestige.86 The association of monumental harbour buildings with the celebration of conquests and the construction programme also allows the emperor to emphasize his authority and to present himself as a successful successor to Trajan – such association elucidates control and rules as means of establishing a new period of prosperity and peace for the territories of the empire. The lighthouse, and the whole harbour, represent a vehicle for expressing imperial ideology and the perpetuation of the authority of the princeps and his family. The messages include the association of the Severans with famous predecessors, including the Julio-Claudians and Trajan, in order to highlight the growth of both the dynasty and infrastructure, as well as to expand the sense of control and presence outside the geographical limits of Italy. Therefore, the renovation plans for Leptis and the construction of port facilities (e.g. lighthouse, temples and warehouses) are expressions of the imperial family’s

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desire and willingness to establish physical markers that attest to the future of the principate. The representations of such constructions consolidate the primary symbolic message of the development of other major harbour centres throughout the Mediterranean that mark the boom in more strategic and active markets of the empire, and they also reassess the presence of aspects such as authority and control over waters and lands of the Roman provinces.

Military control over the Mediterranean Sea Artworks from the Mediterranean which have the marine world as a subject, such as the Nero coin, the reliefs of Trajan’s Column and the panel frieze from the Arch of Septimius Severus, convey specific aspects relating to the control and monumentality of and supremacy over the Mediterranean waters for commercial and military purposes. These images indirectly elucidate the imperial and military control over the sea, an aspect that has been neglected as a result both of studies focusing predominantly on topographic aspects and of the silence of various sources on the role of the Roman navy. In the evidence examined here, the port buildings are often rendered in a sophisticated manner. They are not really a generic representation, as seen in some paintings that are portrayed in a naïve style, as the accurate rendering of individual details was not the aim. Their goal, instead, was more straightforwardly to express and refer to the mastery and supremacy over the waters by seafarers; nonetheless, architectural elements, such as arched structures, breakwaters and porticoes, that indicate building techniques developed to dock and host, in some cases, military ships (e.g. bireme, trireme) are well evidenced, thus demonstrating the care with which they were constructed. The depiction of monumental port buildings such as the lighthouse at Leptis Magna (echoing that of Alexandria) or the gigantic warehouses at Ostia and Portus, sometimes in tandem with the rendering of the military ships, presents messages of naval power and supremacy over waters, as well as security resulting from military patrolling and wealth deriving from connections.87 These artworks tell us a story of a now-pacified Mediterranean. One may link these works to potential contexts of keeping the population feed and preventing food shortages in major cities, the successful completion of military campaigns, and the civilization brought by monumental architecture, as well as the cooperation between people, local magistracies and rulers. The security represented by the iconography of military galleys and commercial cargoes, and the celebration of their arrival, indicate prosperity deriving from supplies and vital

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connections. The enlarged ships, which are the focus of the representations, symbolize their safe voyage, the successful completion of their mission and their return. But this form of control is operated through the occupation and patrol of waterways – a new version of thalassocracy.88 Fear of navigation and warfare is not, however, elucidated fully; the sea in these scenes is represented as imposing and buffeted by the winds and waves, but it is controlled nonetheless by the navy’s vessels, commanders and mariners, thereby conveying a sense of mastery over the water, the harbour and the obstacles posed by troubles along the seas.89 The emperors who commissioned port architecture – i.e. storage spaces and infrastructures at Portus and Ostia, the lighthouse at Leptis Magna, and several restored harbours and landing points of the Mediterranean (visible on the Column) – and their iconographic representations, promoted military security and local fortunes, for instance by surveilling and monitoring the ports’ construction and the improvement of facilities. The presence of mariners, people and sailors in the scenes indicates benevolent alliances between rulers, militaries and populations. The scenes offered a homage to the emperor’s achievements, or those of the predecessors, as in the case of the Nero coin.90 This homage also fits well with aspects of navigation, as a safe port represents a secure mooring place. Moreover, the details on landing, easy navigability and safe return suggest the emperor’s success in making the waters more navigable and peaceful. Sponsorship from the Senate, emperors and later rulers likely indicated their care and interest in reinforcing, promoting and controlling new harbour installations within the Mediterranean trade network. These images might have held multiple meanings for, and awakened many emotions in, the people who viewed the coins, the Column and the Arch, and in the traders or soldiers who visited, managed or participated in the ceremonies practised in Rome, Leptis Magna and elsewhere across the pan-Mediterranean empire. The alternative – and perhaps central – aspects of significance include the skilled rendering of the port facilities, the representation of the function of the ships within or when approaching the harbour, and, as in the case of the Column, the crowd that participates in the landing scenes and assists in the military disembarkment. These convey a message of control and the extraordinary potential of the sea as an ally in the endeavour to conquer the Mediterranean, which, through the port, is now controlled and seen as a partner in military operations. Therefore, by improving, reinforcing and representing the sea structures, the Classical world understood the power achieved over the sea and the role of the Mediterranean waters. The waters held risks, such as piracy, raids and the challenges of navigability, and also provoked fears, but they were

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perceived as allies after the military victories, the patrolling of the sea and the establishment of the ports.91 By emphasizing individual and combined elements of the harbours, port iconography celebrated the scale and role of these buildings across the panMediterranean world. These representations responded to both the propagandistic interests of the authority and the needs of the people.92 The viewers, therefore, observed the creation of structures that linked the provinces of the broader pan-Mediterranean world and were also given the opportunity to expand their knowledge and be informed about the more recent successes through a sort of newsletter that gave information about port structures and maritime life through the images and artistic representations that combined ordinary maritime life, such as port facilities and activities, with extraordinary events, such as military achievements and visits from emperors.93 The presentation of activities within the harbour sectors, as exemplified by landing operations, disembarkment, sacrifices, conversations, construction, architecture and locations, are clear references to the people presiding over the port, and their thanksgiving for stability, the restoration of safety and developments. The same legacy is bequeathed decades later, as seen in the Arch of Septimius Severus, where the lighthouse is perceived as a means of control and a symbol of the presence of the imperial authority; in other words, a means of power and domination of lands and seas. This legacy, almost at the end of the Classical era, was impressed on the minds of the rulers, locals and visitors who saw in the ancestry a means of perpetuating glory and power. The images illustrate both the emperor and army moving under the auspices of gods as part of a successful campaign, and also military achievements, as represented by the expansion of the frontiers and the role that ports, Mediterranean ones in particular, played in the expedition of the Dacian and Parthian campaigns and in the future supply of these new territories.94 The friezes and the coins clearly represent imperial authority and thanksgiving for prosperity and wealth, and they convey a sense of joy and happiness for safe voyages and the perception of the sea as an ally of sailors and traders. All of these convey the glory of the present, and these visual representations emphasize the fame and importance of Rome’s maritime structures, and they also allude to the symbolism and the identity of the port structures themselves. This legacy continued through other different, but related, aspects of the maritime environment and life, such as when harbours were used by the mercantile class as expressions of power within ancient societies. In conclusion, within the images that undoubtedly took inspiration from major harbours, which were completed or developed after key military campaigns,

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one can see a programmatic rendering of infrastructural harbour complexes whose polysemic and celebratory natures determine them as both triumphal and propagandistic, and also the stamping of the authority and triumphal achievement of the rulers on these major centres, as also supported by their divine protectors. These representations incorporated the dual meaning of idyllic and paradisiac landscapes combined with religious and economic functions. The monumental buildings in the harbour worked as a pattern of Classical ideology found in Alexandria and Portus that was appropriate for the founders of a dynasty. The meanings and messages through which the rulers and patrons projected themselves were appropriate for marking the growth of the kings and emperors from Ptolemy to Trajan and beyond, and for expanding the notion of symbolism and ideology outside the traditional boundaries of Alexandria and Rome. Within five centuries, Rome would become primarily symbolic, and the key capitals of the Augusti would be found at more strategic sites, such as Leptis Magna, thus completing the process from empire to provinces, and later to a conglomerate of major seaborne capital centres that developed throughout Classical antiquity. Control over waters is a crucial principle for trade networks and contacts in the Classical world, and this coincides with imperial economy and policy. Within the Mediterranean, connectivity and mobility, sailing and distributing people and commodities in an interrelated network, plays a role in evidencing imperial authority as a mean of stability in the ancient world. What is ‘visualized’ in the rendering of harbours and maritime structures, and the meaning and message they hold, are signs of power and the perceived strength and endurance of this imperial authority and hegemony. The stability conferred by the imperial presence over waters and sea lanes was a hierarchic, albeit partnered, network of control, production and distribution within the Mediterranean, as it was the dominating entity, together with the mercantile class. Controlling waters and routes was the most natural way of acting;95 therefore, harbour cities, sea journeys, exchanges and contacts were made possible by imperial expansion and a pacified Mediterranean, and these were drivers of growth and wealth. This is clear in the visual evidence which portrays economic mobility and the configuration of power through imperial action and benevolence.

Conclusion The development of a Mediterranean perspective from the first to the third century ad involved the continuity and expansion of iconographic traditions,

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but also some considerable changes in the representation of harbour scenes. The adoption of devices, including both portable and fixed objects, within the public sphere began prior to Claudius’ principate and continued into the Severan period. The content and distribution of harbour- and seascape iconographies suggest that a clear narrative and continuity were maintained and inspired by Mediterranean megacities, and that these media were created for the celebration of mega-constructions, imperial ventures, the patrolling of waterways and military endeavours within the marine world. The scale, scope and character of these impressive artworks show that imperial efforts and investment through partnership with the mercantile class, the navy and the general population finally downplayed the fear of navigation, shortages, piracy and marine anarchy. Many of the public buildings and spaces hosting such maritime scenes may have been funded by members of the mercantile class, the maritime aristocracy, the Senate and the emperor’s relatives, as used to happen in coastal cities across the Roman Mediterranean. Both administrative and military personnel were involved in such developments, as well as procurators and traders, but the development of the ‘visualization’ of maritime and harbour themes indicates that new ways of conceiving and interpreting the sea had spread across the empire, such as the opportunity to access new port cities and markets, the practice of constructing mega infrastructures over the sea and of establishing new marine routes.

5

The Mercantile Class: Economic Growth and Influence during the Imperial Era

Introduction This chapter will explore both economic growth and the influence of the mercantile class during the Imperial era. The second and third centuries ad have been identified as the period of the establishment of Roman exchange and trade, following the development of harbour installations.1 The artistic production of this period presents evidence of the continuous expansion of maritime economy and trade, and reflects the implications of a now well-controlled and navigable Mediterranean. The representations of harbour scenes such as those of the mosaics from Rome, Rimini, Ostia, Vega Baja, Bad Kreuznach, Hippo and Apamea also indicate that the whole Roman Mediterranean remained influential, well developed and wealthy. The artworks demonstrate that the scale of overseas contacts and trade was intensified and that commercial prosperity continued, and there is plenty of iconographic evidence that harbourscapes continued to play a significant role in the imagination and ‘visualization’ of wealth and economic growth.

Harbour mosaics as evidence of the economy and trade The artistic renderings and the visualization of harbour panoramas owes its development to not only the power and success of emperors and princeps (as we saw in Chapter 4), but also the fortunes of mercantile-class members, who, in the context of seaborne empires, played a crucial role in economic development and growth. Included in the mercantile class are auctioneers, fishermen, mariners, merchants, sailors, seafarers, shipowners and traders, who worked at the harbour and on the sea, and, thanks to the marine cosmos, gained a relevant role within Classical societies. These figures, especially during the Imperial era, emerge fully

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in several media, offering epigraphic and visual evidence which directly (and indirectly) develops a story based on the economic welfare and influence of this social class. These media indicate how seafaring, trading at sea, living at ports and working in the maritime trade sector were sources of fortune and welfare for these professionals, and also how they exercised legitimate authority and influence over the socio-economic societies of the Classical world.2 Selected images highlight features of economic growth and trade that were achieved by means of harbour and marine life. Among these, mosaics from the Mediterranean region develop a narrative that includes features of the personal achievements, fame and prosperity of the members of Rome’s mercantile class.3 In this regard, the Mosaic of the Ships from the house of Palazzo Diotallevi, at Rimini, contains evidence of the socio-economic wellbeing derived from maritime exchange and trade. From the early Imperial period onwards, Mediterranean cities such as Ostia, Puteoli and Rimini experienced dramatic urban expansion that affected elite private and commercial buildings, which were often located near the harbour area.4 Several houses and structures, such as those at Antiquarium Comunale, Bad Kreuznach, Vega Baja, Palazzo Diotallevi, Piazzale delle Corporazioni, were decorated with frescoes and mosaics that emphasized the status of the owners and their activities, thus attesting not only to its prosperity but also to the cultural sophistication attained by the city, as frequently seen throughout the Mediterranean during the Imperial period.5 The so-called ‘Mosaic of the Ships’, which was brought to light in 1976 during the excavations at Palazzo Diotallevi, dates between the late first and the early second century ad.6 The Mosaic of the Ships, which measures c. 6.00 × 4.65 m, was located in the triclinium and had a decorative framework of geometric motifs (Fig. 5.1).7 The mosaic is divided into two registers: in the upper there is a harbour scene, while a figure of Hercules is depicted at the centre of the lower zone. Hercules is surrounded by a framework of wild animals, vessels and plant motifs. The upper area includes a harbour with a dock, a platform built upon a portico and a signalling tower, perhaps a lighthouse (?) (Fig. 5.2).8 On one side, two ships of the standard cargo-boat type with square sails are docking: they are entering the port and their sails are being furled.9 At the harbour mouth, a pilot boat, navis tabellaria, leads the way, while a figure signals with a fire or, more likely, makes a votive offering on the platform. The sea is full of dolphins and fish, including a sea snake, and the sailors are depicted in a naïve style – this stylistic tendency is recurrent in bi-chrome mosaics, for instance, Ostia models.10 Many scholars stated that this scene depicts Rimini’s port;11 however, although such buildings might be associated with this port, they are not necessarily exclusive to this specific port.

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Fig. 5.1  Mosaic of the Ships and Hercules bibax, Domus Palazzo Diotallevi, Rimini. Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali – Soprintendenza Archeologia, Belle Arti e Paesaggio per le Province di Ravenna, Forlì-Cesena e Rimini.

Fig. 5.2  Harbour scene from the Mosaic of the Ships and Hercules bibax, Domus Palazzo Diotallevi, Rimini. Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali – Soprintendenza Archeologia, Belle Arti e Paesaggio per le Province di Ravenna, Forlì-Cesena e Rimini.

At the centre of the lower register Hercules stands, raising a cup – Hercules bibax.12 He is dressed in the characteristic lion skin and holds a club on his shoulder. He is situated within a circle and surrounded by four lateral semicircles rendered as scallops.13 At the four corners, and within the remaining spaces, are exotic birds, ibises and partridges. Geometric borders follow a wave-crest motif

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and a double-latchkey meander. There is an acanthus scroll with animals: a rhinoceros, leopard, deer, gazelle and desert gazelle, bull, panther and perhaps a wild boar, as well as birds such as the ibis and marsh birds. Beyond is a guilloche border, and then vessels, such as kantharoi and wine containers, surrounded by intricate ivy scrolls, alternating with circular geometric motifs.14 The figure of Hercules, together with the exotic animals, is central to re-interpreting the mosaic and its implications for the owner of the domus – the figure of Hercules suggests hypotheses about trading, and the port depicted might be a generic one somewhere across the Mediterranean (and not necessarily that of Rimini).15 The depiction of the Hercules bibax has been justified on thematic grounds, as he was conjecturally considered the founder of the settlement, in ancient and later sources.16 However, other possible associations for Hercules can be suggested. First, Hercules can be considered a cult figure linked to commerce. For instance, the dedication of the Temple of Hercules Victor, also known as Hercules Olivarius, in Rome, near the Forum Boarium, which dates to the first and second century bc, emphasizes votive and religious connections with oil traders.17 Marcus Ottavius Herennius, an oil trader, sponsored the construction of the temple as a votive offering because he survived a pirate raid and thus dedicated the temple to Hercules.18 Herennius traded from Delos to Rome, and his dedication implies connections between commerce and Hercules’ cult.19 Moreover, in Tivoli, in the second century bc, the cult of Hercules Victor began to grow in significance, although in this case the cult refers to the protection of shepherds and their herds and associated commerce of goods or animals.20 In the mosaic, the representation of wild animals, perhaps for game or entertainment purposes, suggests not only the organization of the trade of goods such as wine, but also wild animals. The appearance of Hercules bibax on the mosaic may have had similar connotations and thus imply a religious function for the room: this in fact could be a dedication to the divine hero by the owner of the domus, who was probably a trader in goods such as wine and perhaps exotic animals.21 Hercules shown in the act of raising a cup indicates the convivial functions of this private space. Moreover, the mosaic provides further evidence for the relevance of the cult to merchants, especially those involved in maritime trade. The Mosaic of the Ships combines several scenes from different genres which appear to be connected, especially in the case of the upper register, by sailing and trading. Representations of animals in North African and Eastern Mediterranean mosaics are thought to stress the importance of their economic value as part of trade.22 The Rimini scene, which has almost no parallel from the early Imperial period, is neither a hunting scene nor a procession scene, as is the case in

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Orpheus mosaics.23 Although of an earlier date, the animal scenes on the Rimini mosaic are similar to well-known examples from Egypt, Libya and Tunisia.24 A further parallel is the Lod mosaic from Israel, which dates to the early fourth century ad, and depicts wild animals and a marine scene with fish and galleys in different panels.25 As at Rimini, the sea in the Lod mosaic is filled with dolphins and fish, and it depicts two merchant ships sailing in opposite directions. This arrangement has certain affinities with Rimini’s mosaic, and one should note the juxtaposition of wild animals, ships and marine scenes combined in different panels.26 In the Rimini mosaic, an idealized ‘Nilotic’ environment is evoked by the ibises surrounding Hercules.27 One of the birds differs from its three companions in that it pecks at a snake, which is a unique reference to Egypt. Pliny the Elder recounts that the Egyptians invoked ibises to guard against the arrival of snakes which came ‘flying’ from Arabia towards Egypt.28 The ibis pecking at the snake may have had not only an apotropaic function but could also point to a connection between the Adriatic, or the Tyrrhenian and the Eastern Mediterranean, perhaps Egypt.29 Exotic animals are likely evidence of activities in which the owner was involved, such as trade with particular places, and may also, therefore, represent aspects of his fortunes. The trade and commerce of animals was often linked with entertainment and games. Aside from their decorative functions, this shared iconography, between Italy and Egypt, suggests aspects of connectivity and situates the Roman Mediterranean in a broader context of trade and exchange, reflecting in this case the interests of the commissioner of the mosaic. The port scene can be compared with other harbour mosaics, such as those found in Ostia, Rome or Leptis Magna, Pompeii, Stabia, but also the sarcophagus representations from Ostia and Portus, which all date between the mid-first and the early fourth century ad.30 This suggests that, at least during these three centuries, harbour scenes and ships become more frequently illustrated in the private sphere.31 In fact, the Mosaic of the Ships also depicts elements that include a combination of port structures and sailing scenes. But it is clear too that Rimini’s mosaic differs markedly when its structures depicted are compared with those of Ostia, which focus mainly on lighthouses, ships and other port details, as well as in Vega Baja, or the Bad Kreuznach mosaic scenes.32 Moreover, a harbour complex, for example, is more straightforwardly depicted in the scene of the Antiquarium Comunale mosaic, where the mole and lighthouse are clearly shown.33 However, differences remain between these mosaics and Rimini’s, for instance the ‘tower’ building, which is depicted in the Mosaic of the Ships and

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has been identified as a lighthouse, although this could also be a port tower.34 There is no clear evidence of fire at its top, which indicates that it was part of the harbour structures, as is the case with the Vega Baja mosaic, where two similar towers appear to be part of the harbour walls.35 The harbour scene, and the use of the bi-chrome technique, mean that this mosaic cannot be compared with many other Mediterranean examples, i.e. Ostia. For instance, at Rimini the private spaces of Palazzo Gioia, Chirurgo and Mercato Coperto houses contain polychrome mosaics which represent geometric motifs, gods and animals; these polychrome mosaics are also common at other Mediterranean centres, such as Leptis Magna, Ravenna and Rome. The blackand-white Mosaic of the Ships can, however, be linked to patterns in Ostia, where this technique was common.36 The identification of the port is – as always – uncertain; it might represent either Rimini or Tyrrhenian ports, such as Ostia or Portus, and the medium-sized ships reference a well-established maritime network. This scene, therefore, emphasizes the role of the domus owner. The mosaic suggests that he was involved in maritime trade, and also demonstrates that port activities were important to a city like Rimini. The cargo ships, which were intended for carrying goods for commercial purposes, can be compared with those portrayed in analogous port scenes, such as those in the Antiquarium Comunale, Vega Baja, Bad Kreuznach, Piazza Armerina and also in several Ostian mosaics.37 In addition, in the Mosaic of the Ships, the representation of a pilot boat, navis tabellaria, preceding the cargo boats entering the port echoes a reference from Seneca, who records this scenario in the port of Puteoli when describing the arrival of the cargo boats carrying goods, as also often seen in paintings from Pompeii and Rome.38 Seneca, in describing this scene, makes metaphorical use of this pilot boat as a means of announcing the arrival and landing of the cargo ships, thus implying safe arrival and related feelings of happiness and joy, which also stresses aspects on sustenance of the population and prevention of shortages. The ships’ features, together with the representation of the harbour facilities, led local scholars to read this scene as Rimini’s port.39 However, scene and technique indicate that comparisons and influences with Ostia or Portus are plausible. The harbour mouth is represented as comprising arch-shaped structures that face the seafront; the mole, which is curved, and a concave outer quay set on a massive base. The Palazzo Diotallevi mosaic thus provides evidence for the representation of port structures in the Classical period.40 Following this line, Blackman argued that ‘the new flexibility that hydraulic concrete gave to Roman engineers enabled them not only to build solid structures of concrete, or

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concrete faced with ashlar and brick, but also to experiment with arched structures, in particular detached piers joined by arches supporting a paved surface’.41 This pattern is visible in the harbour portrayed in the mosaic, and suggests a possible relationship with Mediterranean harbours, since ‘this design seems to have been tried out experimentally for a short period during the first century bc and ad in Latium and Campania’, i.e. Centumcelleae, Misenum, Ostia, Portus and Puteoli.42 The status of the patron and the wider context of trade, as depicted in the Mosaic of the Ships, can also be linked with epigraphic evidence. A close relationship between Rimini, Portus and Ostia is attested in several inscriptions, dating to the first and second century ad, which are provided with the record naviculari maris Hadriatici; this further confirms maritime trade between the two coasts during the Roman age.43 An additional confirmation of this trade network can be found in more epigraphic evidence from Rome, dated to the third century ad, which mentions the activities of negotiantes vini supernant(es) et Arimin(enses). Perhaps the domus was the second seat of a wealthy trader otherwise based in Ostia or Rome.44 In fact, it is interesting to note that the only confirmation of the terms used for traders from Rimini comes from epigraphical evidence at Ostia. Although it cannot be proven that the mosaic represents a Tyrrhenian port, one could argue that it suggests the trans-regional circulation of goods and a broader connection with North African markets and other Italian ports, or ideally other pan-Mediterranean seaports. The figure represented on the platform is making a votive offering, perhaps as a specific dedication in thanksgiving for a good journey and safe arrival or as a more general thanks for good fortune. This act is evidence of wealth, work and mercantile identity, which is paralleled on the Torlonia relief.45 Evidence for the cults of Hercules and Iuppiter Serenus, protectors of traders, in the Italian territories suggests that the figure is making a recognizable and parallel act of devotion.46 Frozen in stone, it is a living, permanent quasi-votive act embedded physically in the floor. The Mosaic of the Ships depicts boats that perhaps operated between the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Adriatic and beyond. Of course, these harbour cities were important in Classical antiquity, as they connected the Italian markets with other parts of the Mediterranean, specifically North Africa and Egypt. The presence of Hercules and the wild animals with the scene of ships may support this point and also indicates the level of exchange between the Adriatic, Tyrrhenian and other Mediterranean ports during Roman antiquity. The reading of the mosaic scene implies that the image depicted does not necessarily represent Rimini and its port, but perhaps an ideal harbour on the Tyrrhenian coasts or somewhere else

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in the Mediterranean;47 however, the location of the artwork, within houses located overlooking the seafront, stresses that also minor harbour cities were important along the Mediterranean in a broad sense.48 At Rimini, many other mosaics that refer to this wider world of trade and exchanges decorated large and important houses.49 The mosaics would have further demonstrated, and been a reflection of, the authority and prestige of the owners and their activities. The mosaics are not only indicative of the sophistication and wealth attained by the city itself, but also emphasize the fame and prosperity achieved by its inhabitants as a consequence of its intensive trade activities along the Mediterranean. Similarly, the mosaics from Ostia contain evidence of the trade and wealth of the mercantile class. The complex of the Baths of the Lighthouse was likely erected in the late Trajanic or early Hadrianic period (c. ad 115–125), and was then greatly improved during later phases. This semi-private space takes its name from the mosaic that depicts a monumental lighthouse. Later modifications occurred between the reigns of Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius, c. ad 140– 180. Many other rooms were rebuilt during Caracalla’s reign (c. ad 211–217), and several mosaic floors and wall paintings have been dated to this period.50 Access to the Baths was through the vestibule, which was aligned with the cardus maximus. The Baths also contained two shops and a bar, which could have been entered via the vestibule, and the so-called ‘portico of Hercules’. Beyond the vestibule there were also two dressing-rooms (apodyteria), and on the floor of one of these was a large black-and-white mosaic portraying a maritime scene which includes marine monsters, sea animals and the lighthouse of Portus. Mosaics from Ostia include detailed marine scenes that depict harbour installations, but these are often minimal and contoured by water full of fish, deities and natural elements. The Mosaic of the Baths of the Lighthouse, which measures c. 7.80 x 7.20 m, dates to the mid-third century ad, c. ad 200–250.51 Within the representation, a huge lighthouse marks the entrance to the harbour, together with a marine goat and marine animals, and these represent the subject of the iconography (Fig. 5.3). The black-and-white mosaics here combine both mythological and harbour environments, as do those from the Piazzale Delle Corporazioni porticoes, which had rooms for administrative and corporate purposes paved with mosaic panels, likely dating to between the late second and the third century ad.52 Inscriptions indicate that these spaces were used as seats of groups of traders and merchants, but also businessmen from North Africa, Gaul, Sardinia and the Adriatic.53 The repertoire of images of these mosaics consists of representations of ships, lighthouses, landing points, sea animals and other marine elements, and also commodities and exotic animals. The ships,

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together with the lighthouse, immediately convey to the observer an idea of the context portrayed. The animals not only give a sense of the marine environment but also suggest exotic ones, such as the elephant that symbolizes North Africa and Libya; as rightly observed by Dunbabin, the depiction is not intended to be coherent. In addition, there are sea monsters, seahorses, dolphins (sometimes ridden by Erotes), cupids, several fish and crustaceans.54 The subject at the centre of the room floor was intended to be viewed from the entrance, as well as from each side of the space. The figures can be read clockwise or counter-clockwise, and the marine elements are depicted as floating in water. The background is formed by waves, and, as is common in such mosaics, the white foreground may be interpreted as water. The lighthouse at Portus is usually depicted in the Ostia mosaics with four storeys, as is the case at Piazzale delle Corporazioni. But the Mosaic of the Baths of the Lighthouse depicts the lighthouse with six storeys, making this rendering similar to that of the House of the Harbour Mosaic, also at Ostia.55 To these six storeys, a cylinder has been added. For the lower storeys, it seems that huge blocks of stone were used and that these storeys were large and were provided with some arched openings. Furthermore, the interior of the lower three storeys is black, whereas that of the upper two is white, and the first opening is formed by a black rectangle. The storeys and openings become smaller as we move towards the top of the lighthouse, except for those of the fourth storey. The lighthouse is surrounded by deities and sea creatures: on the left, Venus is depicted in a shell, carried by Tritons and a Nereid; on the right, Europa is being carried to Crete by a bull (Jupiter in disguise). The towering building depicted in the Mosaic of the Baths of the Lighthouse exhibits striking similarities with another representation: the lighthouse in the House of the Harbour Mosaic.56 The lighthouse in this earlier black-and-white mosaic, which was probably commissioned and executed during the principate of Commodus, at the end of the second century ad, has six storeys, including the cylinder with the fire at its top.57 In this model, lines on the lowest storey indicate the use of large blocks of stone, and this storey also has a large arched opening. Towards the top, the next three storeys have rectangular openings, perhaps doors or windows, and the lowest opening is flanked by two vertical lines: windows (?). The lower storeys are of different heights, and the three highest storeys are the same height. Further iconographic evidence assists us in our analysis of the lighthouse in visual media and its related function as a symbol of the connections between the liminal harbour facilities and control over the sea. The bichrome mosaic in the

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Fig. 5.3  Mosaic of the Baths of the Lighthouse, with marine creatures and lighthouse mosaic, Ostia IV.2.1. Parco Archeologico di Ostia Antica. Photographic Archive C 768.

House of the Harbour at Ostia depicts elements of harbour structures, as well as ships, deities, sea monsters and a gigantic lighthouse.58 The structure is presented as being made of block steps on six levels, surmounted by a statue of Neptune. Neptune is portrayed as firmly grasping the trident and offering a fish to a sailor.59 The port structures are identical to those depicted on Nero’s coin;60 however, the pedestal and the lighthouse are almost identical and might have been inspired by the earlier depiction in the mosaic of the Antiquarium Comunale.

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The depiction of such a building acts not only as a feature of the harbour complex but also as an iconographic message expressing improved infrastructure and imperial endeavours. The columns and stairs extending from the bottom, which represent the quay line and moles, as reported in Pliny and Suetonius, are evidence of the technological achievements within and conquest of the liminal space between land and water.61 The depiction of the lighthouse explicitly conveys supremacy and dominion over the sea. One should also note the deified personification of the emperor/god, which in this case is associated with Neptune and human control over the sea. Perhaps the artists portrayed the lighthouse as similar to the Pharos at Alexandria and Portus, and this may have resulted in the development of a universal pattern for port scenes in Roman art.62 In this context, we should also discuss the value of the lighthouse in depictions: for the purpose of interpreting port scenes, the lighthouse is always situated in the foreground – at the entrance of the harbour basin. It occupies a large part of the scene and this clearly suggests its importance in conveying the wider symbolism of the composition. The lighthouses in the Ostia mosaics (from the House of the Harbour and the Baths of the Lighthouse) are the only ones with six storeys – all of the others (e.g. at Piazza delle Corporazioni) have only three or four storeys.63 It is difficult to develop hypotheses on the dimensions of the lighthouse of Portus; the textual sources are silent on its size, and ancient authors do not provide information on its height, implying that symbolic messages were more important than conveying details such as the actual location (and its topography) of the lighthouse. Thus, the representations of the lighthouse of Portus in the Ostia mosaics suggest that this was a monumental building of considerable dimensions. Suetonius establishes a clear relationship between the two towers when he states that the lighthouse of Portus was a tall tower that imitates the Pharos of Alexandria.64 The lighthouse of Alexandria was renowned across the Mediterranean because it was one of the highest buildings in the ancient world; it is also likely that Claudius, by commissioning such a building, was attempting to emphasize the supremacy of Rome not only over lands but also over water.65 The lighthouse of Portus, the main signalling structure of the largest port of the ancient world, is unlikely to have been smaller than that of Alexandria, and it is also unlikely that it would have been less visible in the literary sources. The mosaic at Vega Baja, Toledo, mirrors that found in Rimini and contains details about economic networks and exchanges in the Roman Mediterranean, as well as about auction, commerce and trade. This is slightly later evidence, dating to between the mid-third and the early fourth centuries ad, c. ad

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250–300.66 This octagonal polychrome mosaic, with a diameter of c. 2.10 m, was found in a suburban villa near Toledo (Fig. 5.4).67 Besides the auction seaport scenes, house and villa mosaics feature other related harbour scenes, some of which are similar in terms of the commercial meaning of the scenes, while others are very peculiar, at least in terms of decoration and style, such as the rendering of unusual harbour buildings and surrounding maritime life. It depicts a multipurpose seaport scene, with commercial and fishing activities; the image presents multiple universally popular activities – whether real or not – of the mercantile class, the elite and the aristocrats who devoted their lives and businesses to marine activities and trade.68 However, considering the setting of this villa in the more open space of the countryside, the mosaic depicts how other activities were carried out and how business enriched the social conditions and lives of these people.

Fig. 5.4  Mosaic of the Vega Baja, Toledo. D-DAI-MAD 1885.

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Fig. 5.5  Harbour scene from the Mosaic of the Vega Baja, Toledo. D-DAI-MAD 1885.

In the octagonal pavement mosaic of the Vega Baja villa, the sea is depicted as densely populated by fish and ships, and the scene includes a huge set of various marine buildings.69 A cylindrical construction is depicted, with a radial pattern of dashes at its top. In front of this stands a small column and a house with a double-pitched roof, which is surmounted by a set of decorative elements. A fisherman stands with a fishing pole on a small boat, and, nearby, there is a little island with a fisherman sitting in front of a compact monument, which is formed by a cylindrical column with a conical roof. There is also a small column, behind which stands a fisherman. In addition, we can see a ship without sails, a cylindrical tower with a conical roof and a building with a double-pitched roof, in front of which a human figure extends his arms towards the sea, in which another man is swimming away from the coast. Among these buildings, a landing point is formed by a small rectangle, which is difficult to interpret. There is also another ship, with sails, and a landing point formed by a rocky tongue, behind which are visible trees and three ships with sails, and, finally, a rectangular building. Further down, a rowing boat passes under a three-arched bridge supported by slender pillars and with a vertical-line balustrade connected to a rocky island on which a multistorey lighthouse likely stands (Fig. 5.5). At the furthest point of the

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balustrade, there is a fisherman, and a large ship and a smaller boat close to a very tall rocky island. Several elements are difficult to interpret; the fisherman – who has an unusual position and is depicted as much larger than the other actors of the scene – as well as his connection with the ship, are not very clearly depicted.70 The round un-roofed building is similar to the theatrical buildings in the harbour representations of the Puteoli flasks; therefore, it could represent an amphitheatre. The ships are not moored at the semicircular pier, but rather near a small pier made of rocks, and the harbour mouth is delimited by two large square boulders. The image, despite the lack of homogeneity in its compositional space, perhaps due to the absence of elements such as Erotes, cupids and divinities, and the presence of monumentalized structures and numerous boats, proposes a real, albeit idealized, harbour complex. The hemicycle, porticoed pier and mole are devoid of ships, as if they were a representation of the facade of a villa, but in this case the iconography of the hemicycle-colonnaded building does not accomplish a full impressionistic effect and conveys to the audience the presence of a port centre. None of the other buildings overlooking the harbour basin recalls elements from an urban landscape, as the only structure that could relate to this is the possible amphitheatre. This is isolated from the other buildings, and is shaped like a sunburst. The means of depicting the harbour basin is new and quite different from other images: a line of rocks is connected to a large quadrangular element, which corresponds to another on the opposite side, but neither contains any architectural elements or monumental characters – only the ships anchored to the tongue of land and rocks allow the audience to identify the structure as a harbour, as it is missing all of the usual structures. The mole, or pier (or bridge?), is completely different to what is seen in the paintings at Gragnano, Esquiline and Rimini, and to the visual repertoire in these images (also engraved on the oil lamps of Pozzuoli); for instance, the mole is supported by slender pillars similar to columns and located near the islet where a lighthouse stands. As with the polychrome mosaic of Hippo, one gains the impression that the image tells a story not only of the port but also of various elements of the maritime city, as demonstrated by the incongruity of the buildings and the diversity of the perspectives adopted. However, great care is taken when linking the individual elements with the depiction of a sea full of sea animals, fish and boats, which refutes the argument that only the buildings are near the docks of the port, thus ensuring a clear message conveyed by the illustration of the compositional scheme. Despite some incongruities, the port

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buildings in the mosaic have a clear maritime rather than an urban physiognomy, which aimed to sponsor the ambitions and lives of the local mercantile class. Apart from a few exceptions of port representations (as in the case of the Belvedere sarcophagus and, partly, the Hippo mosaic), images of ports in both reliefs and mosaics tend to lose the urban features that characterized the Gragnano and Esquiline paintings, the oil lamps, the Puteolan flasks and the gems, and assume aspects much closer to the harbour complex, maritime cityscape or the Nilotic and Alexandrian riverine and lagoon landscapes, as noted for the Vega Baja mosaic in Toledo, thus maintaining the recurring architectural elements.71 The Vega Baja mosaic depicts a huge arcaded building with vaulted structures and a huge portico, which surrounds the harbour basin.72 This is a harbour scene that contains several harbour installations, including a quadrangular tower, perhaps used for patrolling purposes, a curved mole that is reminiscent of the shape seen in several harbour scene media, an extensive quayside, a platform and, above all, storage spaces that specifically address the meaning and purpose of the scene. A lighthouse built over four storeys and with a clearly visible flame on its top represents the conjunction between the mole and the port complex, as always contoured by a series of other buildings, including arched structures, perhaps a bridge, quay, temple and warehouses.73 Moreover, the towering structure has a fire on its top, although the features of the building are not reminiscent of a harbour lighthouse. Structures and ships, as well as fishermen and sailors, seem to propose a quasi-Alexandrian environment – the ships in particular represent a marker, in the sense that the presence of ships with square sails and rowers, but also small boats and other types of galleys, attest to the complexity and diversity of the range of (mostly commercial) activities, daily life and environments within the port area. The open space between the porticoes and the harbour might also represent an area dedicated to auctions, loading and unloading, and several other port activities.74 The mole as a place of sales, transactions, auctions and unloading and loading operations, indicates commercial and maritime activities, as does the unloading of containers (perhaps wine or oil amphorae) along the quayside, near a storage space, as well as a scene depicting auction and commercial operations along the harbour platform itself. The quayside also incorporated a macellum, thus explaining the administrative and business features of the harbour area, as well as a central tholos, from which products were auctioned.75 A transaction is being conducted in the lower part of the mosaic, whereby a trader is selling fish and various goods, and, on his right, a harbour worker is carrying several amphorae. The amphorae might have contained wine, oil or

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garum, although elucidating this is not the aim of the representation as the core message is based on the exchange and commerce of various commodities.76 In a different context, pertaining to an inland location, a huge pavement mosaic tells us a story purely based on commerce and connectivity by means of harbour operations, sailing and trade. This pavement mosaic does not refer to a specific harbour context, or at least does not directly relate to the Mediterranean environment. Very similar, at least in terms of harbour representation and subject, to the Vega Baja mosaic is the Oceanus mosaic from Bad Kreuznach (near Mainz in Germany), which depicts either a marine or a riverine environment with a harbour scene (Fig. 5.6). The mosaic, which lies in the triclinium pavement of a Roman house, is rectangular in shape, measures c. 8.16 x 7.82 m and has an apsidal section. A hexagonal marble basin or fountain was placed in the centre of

Fig. 5.6  The Mosaic of Oceanus, Bad Kreuznach. Römerhalle Museum, Bad Kreuznach.

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the mosaic, with a diameter of 0.96 m. It dates to the first half of the third century ad.77 This polychrome mosaic was located in the triclinium of a very large villa, and it has no parallel across Germania Superior in terms of its decoration and luxury.78 The building depicted in the mosaic has been identified as a maritime villa, though the scene and setting are also reminiscent of a harbour context (Fig. 5.7).79 As with other luxury artworks, it is difficult to identify the owner of the domus, although they must have been a leading authority, perhaps a procurator or a member of the local elite or mercantile class in the area of Mainz.

Fig. 5.7  Harbour scene from the Mosaic of Oceanus, Bad Kreuznach. Römerhalle Museum, Bad Kreuznach.

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Roman Kreuznach mosaic floors dating to the third century ad occupy over 5,000 m2 of the interior floor space of the Roman peristyle villa, and more than fifty rooms on the ground floor alone. Remnants of stucco work, marble reliefs and wall paintings give an impression of the sophistication of the interiors. The gladiator mosaic depicts gladiator and animal fights in dramatically increasing intensity. But, the collections on display also illuminate further aspects of ‘Romanization’ and the Roman way of life, such as the mosaic with a maritime scene that contains a depiction of Oceanus (or Neptune?) holding the claws of a lobster on his head, and flanked on both sides by a hippocampus. The ‘water’ is here depicted by using bichrome tesserae, and it is full of fish and snails. The scene also portrays four cargo and fishing ships depicted near Oceanus. To the right of Oceanus is a ship with amphorae and two men, and to the left a ship with a helmsman and other oarsmen. The harbour basin containing the Oceanus and seafaring scenes is surrounded by an imposing set of buildings, which are also to the left and right of the harbour basin. On the left-hand side of the scene is a possible depiction of a commercial exchange or transaction, while to the right there are fishermen.80 Also, the vivid polychrome mosaic from the Antiquarium Comunale, which measures c. 2.12 x 1.90 m, and is currently in the Capitoline Museums in Rome, depicts a ship in sail either leaving or approaching the harbour (Fig. 5.8). The scene has architectural details which date this Roman artwork to the mid-Imperial period, between the mid-second and the early third century ad.81 Details contained in the mosaic give us a terminus ante quem, such as the topsails that did not appear before the mid-first century ad, as well as rigging that recalls that from the Torlonia relief; thus, it is likely that the mosaic dates to ad 200.82 The mosaic was found in a domus on the Quirinale Hill, likely a property of T. Flavius Claudius Claudianus, at the corner of Via Mazzarino and Nazionale, during the restoration work of Palazzo Rospigliosi-Pallavicini.83 In the foreground is a huge mole supported by arches and crenellated on the top; also visible is a flight of steps connecting the mole to a long platform of masonry on which stands a tall two-storey tower. The lower storey is square and has a long rectangular opening with a frame formed by two moldings. This is then bordered by a platform with a parapet. A second storey rises in the shape of a rounded turret, with another high rectangular opening.84 The turret is decorated, mirroring the lighthouse of Alexandria, and has a statue on its top which holds a sword in its right hand, and a sceptre in its left. The parapet has been associated with that of Alexandria, in light of the wave-shaped ornament that, at each sharp point, culminates in the figure of a Triton.85 But the masonry

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and orthogonal shape of the construction reveal the influences of Alexandrian and Ostian patterns, which can be seen in the white masonry and the huge red and black square blocks. The water is blue with grey waves, and the sky is dark. Only a section of the ship is visible in the mosaic, and there are five sailors engaged in various duties on board. The ship is depicted in several colours – green and dark green, with designs in yellowish-green, red and blue. The deck is protected by a railing in green and yellow. The stern culminates in a decoration of a swan or goose that extends into a narrow deck with a parapet. The stern is also adorned by what seems to be a seahorse, and below this two dolphins are depicted in different colours: one white and one blue. Finally, there is a deckhouse, with two sailors beneath it, and a steersman behind, dealing with the steering

Fig. 5.8  Mosaic of the Antiquarium Comunale, Capitoline Museums, Rome. Getty Images.

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equipment. The ship is towed at the stern by a dark red and yellow rope. The mast is red and grey(-ish) green, and the sails are white with reddish cordage. The sails are provided with rings through which pass brailing ropes. The horizontal lines represent strips that support the rings. The main yard and sail seem to indicate that the wind is blowing from the left. The polychrome mosaic, which depicts a ship and a sailor either approaching or leaving the quay of a harbour, and a lighthouse with a burning flame on its top that illuminates the night and would have guided sailors into the port, convey several details of a harbourscape environment and its life. More importantly, the mosaic contains an outstanding example of a monumental lighthouse that may be connected to those at Ostia and Rome.86 But the identification of the lighthouse’s topography and spatial disposition is absolutely pointless, and debating whether it is situated at Alexandria or Portus is a fruitless avenue of research. As Reddé rightly suggests, it might have been inspired by a previous Alexandrian model.87 Further works have located it in an Alexandrian context, although the lighthouse exhibits striking similarities with the later models (e.g. the number of storeys, openings and layout) seen at Piazzale delle Corporazioni, etc.88 The architectural and marine elements visible in the mosaic include figures of sailors and marines, who remain in the background, overshadowed by the detailed image of the lighthouse. The structure of the scene suggests that the mosaic makers attempted to reproduce a view of the harbour scene in its entirety, and the monumentality of the entire complex is here expressed via the long mole with arches and a lighthouse, which secures the port and renders the waters safe. An examination of the structural elements in such a mosaic highlights the architectural complexity therein. These elements are the peculiar vaulted structures which acted as breakwaters, and also the quays and platforms. In the mosaic, the lighthouse differs slightly from the models proposed in the textual sources for Alexandria, Ostia and Portus, as the vertical building is situated on a small island or independent breakwater separate from the enclosed breakwater. Also, a personification of the port or deities is not completely visible here, as is the case in the works from Ostia and Torlonia. Perhaps the statue standing at the top is either a deity or an emperor, but, either way, it is a key figure presiding over the port. This representation depicts a very tall tower with a structure that seems to be built over a platform and parallels that of the lighthouses at Portus, Ostia, Cosa and Terracina. The iconography of the Antiquarium Comunale indirectly tells us that the mosaic-makers took inspiration from the Alexandrian lighthouse or artwork, as, almost three centuries after its construction, it had become the

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main model for monumental lighthouses across the Mediterranean. Furthermore, this artwork sends a message of enlightenment and success over the water, which is conveyed by the images of towering structures and ‘nocturnal’ sailing; the seamen, thanks to divine and human actions, hold dominion over the darkness and the unknown. Nocturnal sailing and the risk of wreckage is conveyed metaphorically only in part by these images, as the sense of achievements and control prevail. One of the mosaics from the vestibulum ad exedra of the Villa del Casale at Piazza Armerina, Enna – the Mosaic of the fishing Erotes – dates to the late Roman period and contains elements referable to harbour environments (Fig. 5.9). The polychrome mosaic dates to the early fourth century ad, c. ad 320. The marine scene does not represent any specific place. The buildings are depicted as a row of colonnaded porticoes curving alongside or following the shore, and they alternate with pointed towers and domed pavilions, as well as trees and natural elements that indicate the presence of well-made gardens. In addition, a row of arcades and domes, curtains between columns and curving lines denote the evolution in harbourscape depictions in late Roman times. The pavement marine scene, which might act purely as a background, not only denotes conventionality but also attests to a renewed interest in natural and maritime settings. The Great Hunt scene in the country-house sector of the complex depicts an African setting, as do some of the minor mosaic pavements. The marine scene relates to African themes, and the polygonal marine environment, which might be inspired by Carthage, also offers details of innovation, such as the buildings which line the coast that recur in the scenes of the fishing Erotes (rooms 22, 31, 44, 45).89 This scene offers points of connection with the mosaic of the great peristyle in the composition of beasts, and wild, exotic and captured animals – these contain parallels with the mosaics from Tunisia and Libya, as the style is native to North Africa, and there is no doubt that the genre expanded across the Mediterranean and influenced not only Rome but also Sicily and North Africa. The pavements make similar use of powerful figures and buildings as mosaics from the Eastern Mediterranean; there is little to compare with those in Italy or Rome.90 The closest parallels are in Libya and Tunisia, but these do not present a territory; rather, they clearly refer to the extraordinary connectivity of these places – the powerful figures, musculature and buildings, and the solid colouristic elements suggest imposing architecture. Huge solid buildings and a seashore fill the floor. Both figures and animals are drawn solidly and aimed to convey realistically the strength of life along the maritime centres. The links with North Africa are clear in this mosaic,

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Fig. 5.9  Mosaics with harbour scenes, Villa del Casale, Piazza Armerina. Pedicini HR 5343/5372.

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as well as indications of Mauretania, Cherchel, Carthage and the proconsular provinces. Scholars believe that the figures portrayed in the marine scene have imperial attributes, and this might hold a certain meaning for the mosaic, relating to association with the imperial family and movement into the world of official art and imperial symbolism, a sphere that, as Dunbabin points out, was adopted from the African patrons who had used similar themes previously.91 In the Mosaic of the Great Hunt, in the ambulatory of the villa, gazelles are taken to the ship, surrounded by a group of hunters in action, during a venationes. More importantly, the fish-filled sea and the presence in the background of colonnades and porticoed structures (as those depicted in the background of the scene of the fishing Erotes) denote how the harbour front is now a consolidated pattern fully integrated with the seascape, and also the appropriation of this liminal territory, which is used to link other territories and, as a consequence, to develop power and prosperity. The marine scenes from Piazza Armerina have affinities with the representations on a set of mosaics that recurrently combine harbour structures, seafaring and human and mythological activities, although the main concern is the imposing architecture – this includes recurrent long colonnaded porticoes and the extension and stretching of the mole and piers towards the open sea, an element which characterizes the harbour. The columns delineate sea and waterfront – the Erotes (small deities) preside over the port on behalf of deities and seem to superintend human life, which, within the harbour frame, is harmonious and detached from concerns of life. In the Mosaic of Santa Maria in Trastevere, for instance, the harbour basin is characterized by a ship with sails and a smaller one with two fishermen in the act of trawling the nets – the harbour is delimited by a colonnaded portico on the upper right that turns into an angle. Above, there are also trees and buildings of different heights, and on the other side a marine gate that seems surmounted by a biga.92 The door, which is formed by two columns and a rectilinear architrave, and is very similar to the Gragnano one, is not isolated but strictly connected to the portico (a kind of monumental gate), and the representations convey the sense of monumentality as the harbour front faces and dominates the whole harbour basin. On the same level, the maritime landscape, which is inspired by Campanian paintings and anticipates the later production at Piazza Armerina, culminates in the Mosaic of the House of the Triclinium, at Apamea.93 This mosaic includes a harbour sector, with the canonical repertoire of porticoes (perhaps indicating warehouses or storage spaces), a distyle temple without tympani (which is accessed through a short stairway flanked by two sphinxes), perhaps a temple of Isis (?) and a tall towering architecture element, which seems to represent a

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multistorey lighthouse, although the lack of tesserae on its top prevents us from saying more about the possible flame, decoration or statue on its top. There is also a seated fisherman and a boy manoeuvering a trawler and pointing towards the small temple that is on the opposite side of the portico. The structures depicted here confer a sense of monumentality and are disposed in an organized manner along the seashore, but these do not delineate the whole urban level, as the aim of the representation is to focus on the harbour sector and its relevance for the metaphoric implications of the scene. In conclusion, as early as the third century ad, all of these mosaics had weighty socio-economic value. Both owners of these major houses opted for ‘commercial’ elements as part of their mosaic decorations and decided that the first thing the observers would see were the complex structures, maritime life under the auspices of a key divinity and, more importantly, the prosperity and wealth deriving from seafaring and marine activities. The importance of having moles, lighthouses and ships on such large mosaics – almost as if these were advertisements – was, by this time, a natural evolution of the previous pattern, whereby the shift from monumentality as a means of control to monumentality as a device via which to conduct business was accomplished fully. The water is controlled for socio-economic purposes, and the artists indicate that the construction of a major harbour complex, whether in the context of a port city or a private maritime villa, was complete and this is also demonstrated by the inscriptions on the stonework.

Controlling the sea, sailing the sea: A depiction of a peaceful Mediterranean Most of these harbour representations emphasize very specific aspects that address questions on the real purpose of these scenes. Particularly in the mosaic pavement artworks, which all date from the Imperial period (from the first to the early fourth century ad), the representations of port scenes depict an environment of ships and port facilities, including lighthouse, mole, quay, storage spaces and towers.94 Interestingly, aspects of the identity of the Graeco-Roman port structures can be easily found in the mosaics depicting harbourscapes as a complex comprising a walled circuit made of piers, jetties, storage buildings, porticoes and arch-shaped port structures. The harbour basin is equipped with moles and towers and is placed within the harbour walls, together with seamen and ships, most of which are sailing.95 These buildings architectonically represent

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various styles of construction.96 The buildings with the cupola and a series of windows are identifiable as commercial or religious buildings or an administrative centre of the port. For instance, the porticoes, which are a recurrent element in such media, together with amphitheatres and undefined rectangular buildings, suggest a structured market centre.97 The decorations with all the elements that acted as reminders of a specific port occupied the foreground (and often the background) of the scenes, giving the sense of an urban setting fully dominated by the marine complex.98 Often the harbour mosaics considered in this chapter that are the richest in detail still omit some elements (e.g. bollards and docking, loading and unloading operations), but they also retain some others, such as the strips on the top of signalling towers (to indicate the flame) or the vaults used to demonstrate the development of the mole.99 For example, the black-and-white tower depicted in the Mosaic of the Ships can be identified as part of a defensive wall or as a building that marked the harbour mouth. The reason ancient ports were often depicted as equipped with towers that are generally identified as lighthouses remains unknown, but the real aim can be found once again in the monumental features of the harbour.100 The tower should perhaps be thought of as a likely harbour gate into the port, as a further marker of the need to control waters, sailing and routes.101 But leaving aside the suggestion for both the lighthouses and towers, the mosaics influenced generations of viewers, who saw such visual representations and, thanks to the emphasis on the features of the harbour basins and their activities, uncovered the key messages in the scenes.102 The connection between city and harbour through these mosaic representations served also as a reminder of the environment of the harbour location, which developed near the marine sector, and played a major role as a connector for the seaport. The mosaic scene, therefore, celebrates the prestige attained by the cities of the Classical world through their ports. Since these images present the coastal city and its port as a single element, linking their role and prestige, these mosaics further reveal the manipulation of Classical art to indicate, perpetuate and reanimate various glories. These mosaics convey a symbolic, rather than religious or topographic, message based on socio-economic purposes that celebrate the ports within a local or trans-regional context. The mosaics not only allude to the port structures but also reveal their role within the harbour itself, as they are a means of developing some lucrative activities. Further evidence sheds more light on the message of the mosaics, such as auction and docking and landing along the harbour walls; nonetheless, the general portrayals of these harbourscapes were undoubtedly more relevant. Commissioners, who presumably ordered and paid

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for these artworks, would have emphasized the prestige of their cities, activities and role, at least until the last phase of the Classical era. They would also have celebrated the harbour as a means of controlling and demonstrating commercial power, as exemplified by their attempts to renovate ports to host a larger commercial fleet, for example at Aquileia, Corinth, Ephesus and Paphos.103 Despite the fact that the mosaics were made several centuries after the construction of the structures, the desire to celebrate them and to recall the legacy of the original harbours is central. Therefore, for the mercantile-class members and seamen, the need to follow the path of their ancestors through the renovation of ports and the celebration of their features is linked to the images represented in the mosaic that emphasize the economic purposes of the Mediterranean ports and the controlling of the waters, which was enabled by their seafaring activities. But why did the mosaic images need to tell a story of control over the sea, a story of a pacified Mediterranean? It is clear that the images contain elements of seafaring, as indicators of commercial expansion, development of navigational skills and socio-economic growth, but the fear of conflict, instability and hazards might also have existed at a time when commerce was well established and profitable; certainly, seafaring and sailing played a central role in the successful delivery and completion of all commercial seagoing activities. As seafaring, especially within the Mediterranean, was conducted for lucrative purposes, the iconography of harbour scenes, particularly in mosaics, does not include threats or risk; rather, the waters are depicted as peaceful and as allies. The images illustrate that, at least in the visual sphere, risks, including meteorological, environmental and warfare-related ones, such as those deriving from piracy and raids, were almost forgotten.104 In terms of adverse marine and meteorological conditions, textual evidence states that ancient seafaring activities suffered from seasonal variation.105 Recent studies have revised this point and accepted that seamen were, in cases of necessity, prompted or perhaps constrained to conduct sailings and voyages during the winter or under adverse conditions, especially for the movement of goods in a regional or localized context, counteracting the adverse effects with seasonal adjustment and developed seafaring skills. Although the textual and, indirectly, some epigraphic evidence points out the risks of wintertime sailing, the iconographic evidence generally presents quiet and harmonious seas.106 Reliefs on Trajan’s Column that include a windy and stormy sea (see scene LXXIX) indicate that these conditions do not prevent a fleet sailing over the open sea, thus implying mastery in navigation in adverse conditions and also, in this case metaphorically, that the waters are fully under

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control, thanks to the capabilities of seamen and to the now-friendly Mediterranean. In visual media, therefore, the relationship between seamen and the physical marine environment is substantially balanced, and, although meteorological and seasonal hazards made sea journeys more dangerous, longer and even problematic, thus less frequently undertaken than those under ideal conditions, business and necessity maintained the seasonal rhythms of marine travel. This is evident in iconography that justifies the wintertime operations of seamen and traders, so as to demonstrate their complete alliance with and domination of the maritime sphere.107 In these media, the Mediterranean (and beyond) is also seen as free of the evils that afflicted the so-called ‘civilized’ world, namely the risks of piracy and raids, which were, according to textual sources, not in line with the conventions of a ‘civilized’ society by Classical standards. These people were enemies of all, and actions were taken to control and defeat them throughout the period between the fifth and the early first century bc.108 Augustus, as part of his political and celebratory programme, states that he pacified the seas and made it free from all pirates and other threats.109 The imperial manifesto eulogizes the suppression of pirates and declares the accessibility and stability of the Mediterranean. Strabo notes that, in the ‘civilized’ Roman world, there is a ‘current state of peace, for piracy has been suppressed, so that those sailing between Spain and Italy are beginning to relax’.110 Strabo also connects piracy with the absence of rule and lack of power, and, so, the establishment of a new period of peace and control of the maritime routes under the Roman hegemony has finally brought renewed welfare, success and prosperous government to several regions, especially those on the coast that benefit from seafaring and marine activities.111 The political power and stability of the Augustan intervention, which was supported by the army and navy, contributed to improving maritime security; thus, the conquest and control of new provinces and territories was also reflected in the sense of commercial and harmonious prosperity, as often depicted within the scenes examined. With this, the mercantile class took back control of the sea and freed it from unjust risks and immoral pirate activities. The images convey how, in the Classical world, the elite continuously sought to exploit the maritime routes with inclusive and (quasi-)imperialistic endeavours, often in view of long-term expansionistic claims, political control, prominence, dominion and, more importantly, commercial exploitation and influence. In order to show this, the elite, as well as their clients, competitors, and general viewers, justified their actions as promoting economic prosperity. This had more appeal and prominence than other narrative scopes, such as idyllic

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mythological images. The depiction of ships and structures, but also fishing, sailing and scenes of auctions and exchanges, to some extent mirror the practices and activities of Greek, Phoenician and other Mediterranean maritime powers in the wider chronological context of the Classical era. And, for the Romans such a repertoire might well have paraded their real ambitions and inspirations. The Roman elite in particular adopted this technique in their illustrations of their own maritime businesses and communities, when their often-rhetorical expansionistic dreams were frequently realized through the suppression of piracy, or the opening of new marine routes, or the construction of new harbour wonders, and this is visible in the images, especially in those from private contexts.

Commercial messages behind harbour scenes The messages of selected harbour scenes from private contexts might be interpreted as representative of interaction, as a symbolic expression of the mercantile class’s identity and a metaphor for its ability to control commercial routes and exchanges. The artworks that depict harbours and seascapes from the pan-Mediterranean world do not solely elucidate the meaning of the monumentality of port buildings, which has been highlighted by studies focusing on aspects of the senses. Although the presentation of port structures, with their platforms, moles and harbour walls, is a recurrent element of these depictions, the environments, ships and seafaring activities are also rendered effectively (e.g. at Naples, Ostia, Pompeii, Puteoli and Rome), and these topics are here portrayed as the inclusion of specific details aimed at conveying a specific message that lies behind the mere harbour representation itself.112 Elements such as ships, cargoes, sails and harbour workers, but also sea monsters, fish and marine animals, were placed alongside the sea structures, indicating the care with which the message was conveyed. The depiction of ships in tandem with port architecture presents messages of power and control over waters, and of abundance, wealth and prosperity resulting from commercial connections.113 The conceived and connected Mediterranean world is clearly expressed within these artworks, and we might link these works with a potential context of sustenance of the population and the prevention of shortages. The security of the cargo and the celebration of the arrival does not solely indicate prosperity derived from vital foodstuffs. The enlarged ships, which are the focus of the representations, likely symbolize safe voyage and return. Fear of navigation,

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however, is not expressed; the sea in these scenes is represented, of course, as imposing and buffeted by the winds (visible in the depiction of waves), but it is controlled by the vessels, sailors and rulers, thus conveying a sense of control and domination over the water and of the obstacles posed by troubled waters.114 The emperors and patrons who commissioned both ports and the iconographic representations of the same promoted local fortunes, for instance by sponsoring port constructions and promoting the improvement of facilities.115 The presence of crowds and people in the scenes suggests complicity between rulers and the local population. The iconography also offered a homage to the emperor’s achievements, or those of the patrons.116 This homage also fits well with aspects of navigation, as a safe port represents secure docking and mooring places. The details on landing, easy navigability and return suggest the emperor’s success in making the waters more navigable and peaceful. Sponsorship from the Senate, emperor and later rulers indicates their care for and interest in reinforcing infrastructure within the Mediterranean trade network.117 These images might have held multiple meanings for and awakened many emotions in the people who viewed, for instance, Trajan’s Column from the platform of the libraries in Rome (e.g. port scenes on the Column occupy central positions and were the first seen by the viewers) or the harbour wall paintings, or in the traders and clients who entered the rooms of the majestic houses and villas decorated with such scenes, or in the people who participated in the ceremonies and religious activities in the squares of the ancient cities. Such alternative meanings contained within the skilled rendering of the port facilities, or the representation of the functions of the ships within or when approaching the harbour, and the crowd that participates in the landing scenes convey a message of renowned prosperity, abundance and the extraordinary potential of the sea, which, through the port, is now controlled and celebrated as a partner. Therefore, by improving and reinforcing its structures, the Mediterranean people understood the power achieved over the sea. The water contains risks and provokes fears, but it is now perceived as an ally after the establishment of the port. By emphasizing individual elements of the ports, harbour iconography clearly aimed to celebrate the scale and role of these buildings across the ancient Mediterranean. These representations also respond to the propagandistic interests of rulers, commanders and emperors, and to the needs of traders, merchants, clients and observers.118 Members of the mercantile class, therefore, observed the creation of structures that linked the Mediterranean with the broader Classical world and were also given the opportunity to expand their economic horizons, enjoying and learning about port structures and maritime

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life through the images by observing artistic representations that combined ordinary life with port facilities and activities.119 The presentation of commercial procedures and exchange ‘rituals’, as exemplified by the loading and unloading activities on the Torlonia relief (but also the relief of Salerno and the graffiti from Bagram and Paphos), the location and the sailing scene in the mosaics from Antiquarium Comunale, Apamea, Bad Kreunznach, Ostia, Palazzo Diotallevi and Vega Baja, and also on the Nero coin are clear references to the deity presiding over the port and the people and their thanksgiving for safe voyages, achievements and prosperity. The port complex at the dawn of the Classical world was perceived as a means of control, power and domination of land and sea routes. The characteristics conveyed by these scenes concerning culture and identity must have made an impression on the minds of a varied range of people, from rulers to locals and visitors, who saw in these a means of perpetuating glory and power. The artworks illustrate the trader moving under the protection of deities as part of a successful shipping mission, and also the economic and social achievement represented by the expansion of their status and assets thanks to the role that (Mediterranean) ports played in the implementation of the maritime routes and in the future supply of these new territories. The artworks in particular are representations of thanksgiving for prosperity and wealth, and they include a sense of joy and happiness for the safe voyage and the perception of the sea as an ally of sailors and traders. These media, by means of polychrome and coloured decoration, further recall the commercial expansion and growth of the recent past or the present – the visual representations emphasize the fame and importance of the maritime structures, and this is an allusion to the symbolism and the identity of the marine life. This commercial message, which was conveyed by several pieces of iconographic evidence, proposed that the legacy of the Mediterranean ports continued, as the harbour remains became the subject of debate among observers. But, who were the authors, the commissioners, who aimed to address and convey such messages of control over the water and commercial supremacy over the Mediterranean? The artistic repertoire of course does not include, apart from cases from the public sphere, names of the authors or commissioners, although the location and setting of the private spaces allow us to hypothesize the commissioners and owners of these houses, who wanted to emphasize the commercial significance behind the artistic scenes. Epigraphic evidence from the Mediterranean tells us more about the members of the mercantile class and seamen who populated and lived by the sea during the Classical era. The

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commercial message of these images found fertile ground in the rich corpus of epigraphic evidence on the traders and merchants, especially from the Roman age. Connections between the Mediterranean ports are well evidenced in visual media, such as at the Piazzale Delle Corporazioni at Ostia, and also in several funerary and honorific inscriptions from Ostia itself and Rome, which refer to corporations of Mediterranean shipowners and traders.120 These might also be the commissioners and the patrons of the scenes represented in different, albeit linked, contexts.121 The activities and roles of the associations of harbour workers is still debated, especially for the negotiantes and navicularii.122 The earliest mentions of an attested association of naviculariorum maris hadriatici date to the end of the first or the beginning of the second century ad.123 The word navicularius refers to the person who is in charge of deciding the ship’s purpose and relates to a person engaged in business activities. The navicularius in most cases was also the shipowner.124 The association attests to the existence of a permanent association of shipowners with certain duties regarding trade between Rome and the whole Mediterranean and beyond, probably connected with Rome’s food supply. In the Mediterranean, other inscriptions provide evidence for individual skippers and sailors, who likely shipped goods along the Mediterranean and perhaps joined the shipowners’ guilds.125 These inscriptions may also relate to marine, riverine and lagoon sailing and transport, and therefore could support connections between the harbours and other centres and markets.126 The exploitation of the marine network is further evidenced by fragmentary inscriptions of sailors who carried people and goods to docking places in the various regions.127 Harbour centres had relationships with the pan-Mediterranean maritime network of markets and ports, and these connections are also confirmed by funerary inscriptions that list the names and roles of seamen.128 The inscriptions that mention ancient sailors need not indicate the presence of a single trader or company, but it is reasonable to argue that these crews or the shipowners were linked through a guild that had satellite seats in some of the regional ports of the Mediterranean, as they were represented in the idyllic scenes of several wall paintings or their ships and seafaring activities were depicted simply on coins, in mosaics, etc.129 The inscriptions that provide evidence for the existence of well-established shipping organizations that, within Mediterranean ports, held permanent seats assigned for the export of rural and non-rural commodities (i.e. wine, oil, cereals, clothes and stones) and/or for the supply of the annona indirectly attest to the potential commissioners of these artworks and the owners of these private spaces, thus highlighting the presence

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of a powerful and well-organized mercantile class.130 Within the Mediterranean, the mercantile class may have had satellite seats in a guild of regional traders who had their main seat at Ostia or Rome, and their images spread throughout the main harbour centres and markets. The circulation of materials throughout the ports of the empire likely demonstrates that these men shipped and delivered goods to and from these territories. Although indirectly, their business and ability to make profitable gains is visually perceivable in the harbour scenes that highlight not only their status but also the economic position deriving from their activities. In view of the scale of their facilities, major Mediterranean ports, including Alexandria, Corinth and Portus, would have been appropriate seats for the development of their administrative and logistic functions in this region, and the iconography reflects such a system. The commercial connections across the Mediterranean, especially between Italy and Africa, which are evident from the ceramics, iconographies and inscriptions, are symptomatic of a significant mercantile relationship. In fact, there is evidence that seamen were key players and that major harbours became a strategic source of connections for Rome and the Mediterranean. There is also proof that the mercantile classes came to dominate the economic life of the Roman Empire, particularly in the second and early third centuries ad; this is certainly the case with the later second-century ad epigraphic evidence, such as that from the Piazzale delle Corporazioni at Ostia, wherein most of the identifiable stationes along the eastern side refer to Mediterranean traders and shippers from Africa, Gaul, Corsica and Sardinia.131 While the precise relationship between the members of such collegia and iconographic representations of marine landscapes and life is still unclear, there is little doubt that these artworks were indicative of the key role played by merchants and sailors in promoting harbour economies and supplying commodities and foodstuffs to Rome and beyond.132 Mercantile-class members of various origins were also resident at Aquileia, Ancona, Rimini, Ostia, etc., and they were closely involved with the associations and corporations embedded in trading commodities, including wine, oil and cereals, with Rome. Also resident were families of wine merchants who had representatives in several satellite coastal centres of the Mediterranean and who played pivotal roles as the heads of the mercantile class.133 Thus, the analysis of the body of iconographies and inscriptions from harbour cities indicates that seamen comprised a significant proportion of those commissioning and producing maritime representations.

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Conclusion It is clear that the mercantile class continued to prosper from the scale and character of the network of connections, commerce and trade, and from the range of coastal settlements and harbour cities that were established throughout the Roman Mediterranean. The commerce may have also improved since there is iconographic evidence for maritime infrastructures dating to the second and third centuries ad, rather than to the early first century ad. One of the main aspects with assessing the harbour imagery of the Roman Mediterranean is the preservation of maritime routes and control of the waterways. Earlier images typically focused on environmental and landscape elements and are less frequently attested in later repertoires, where architectural details and seafaring activities are frequently associated with each other, as visible in the cases examined in this chapter. Depictions of mercantile class activities and harbour life may also have changed in later Roman times. As a result, the Roman Mediterranean retained a high level of maritime economy and trade during this period, and the many artworks that have reproduced marine scenes may suggest that the extent of commerce and sailing, as well as the general control of a nowappeased mare nostrum, had improved radically during the third century ad. The idea that the maritime landscape was dominated by substantial harbour infrastructures may also result from the nature of the late iconographic evidence that survived, such as Piazza Armerina. It is evident from the representations that significant trade activities and a secure Mediterranean characterized most of the Imperial era, and these images indicate that harbour buildings continued to be restored and constructed alongside coastal settlements.

6

A Postcard from the Ancient Mediterranean: Aspects of Euergetism and Paideia in Representations of Maritime Cities

Introduction Harbour images have often been portrayed as the framework for individual port cities, and many of the architectures and infrastructures were associated with centres such as Portus and Alexandria. However, this tendency has usually been regarded as culminating in a vehicle for more visual messages that incorporated both public and private spheres as ways to propagate aspects of euergetism, paideia and general emotions. The concept of topographic identification has dominated studies of the maritime images, and the study of harbour centres of the Mediterranean has been deeply affected by this scholarship model, although new aspects of the meaning and messages of the harbour repertoire may challenge this perspective. The representations and iconographies produced during the Imperial era confirm the role of the Roman Mediterranean as significant artworks from public and private spheres continued to have an impact beyond the end of this period. These images develop narratives on the sense of safety and security, as well as on the abundance, welfare and economic prosperity of the time, and such narratives are used as an instrument for education and information.

Public sphere: Representations of safety and security The harbour views, with their specific liminal spaces, infrastructure and marinelife activities, affected, altered and captured observers’ and viewers’ attention and perceptions. People probably wanted to know more about these places, both exotic and non-exotic, real and imaginary.1 The harbour infrastructural elements were complex, well-defined and self-contained spaces, which were closed off

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from the waterfront but also adjacent to the urban centre. The observers who entered and viewed individual marine spaces through idyllic sea gateways could see the entire transition from land to sea. These distinct spatial entities – land and sea – also formed a specific pictorial framework, which is differentiated only by the architectonic subjects of each sector and the ambience created by specific buildings and related decorations, including the Gragnano painting and the Puteoli etching and flasks. The harmonious similarities within the representations of harbours inspired by Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna, with their moles, ships, bollards, sea creatures, lighthouses, temples and deities, together with scenes of harbour life, awoke unexpected emotions in their viewers, whose visual perception engendered associations purely based on stability, security, authority and new cognisance, especially within the public sphere. The sense of safety and security emerges in the description of monuments and superstructures. The spatial disposition of the structures, which follows the pattern of major monumental hubs (e.g. as we have seen for Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna, but also for other ports such as Caesarea Maritima, Centumcellae and Corinth), deeply influenced these iconographies. Pliny the Younger’s description of the effect of these architectural wonders, with regard to Centumcellae, culminates in acute observations on the construction process and dynamics of the harbour structures as a result of the direct intervention of the princeps, sponsors or other rulers.2 He notes how ‘monumentality’ dominated the features of the harbour complex. In this description, the mole of the harbour ‘is defended by exceedingly strong works’, while other sectors are still in the process of being completed. The gigantic structure, which suggests a lighthouse or a huge breakwater, in this account is seen as an artificial island located at the harbour mouth and that breaks the waves and guarantees a much safer passage to ships. Here, the construction process of the island seemingly confers further relevance to the ‘monumentalization’ of the waterfront: stones of enormous size are transported via large cargo boats and then, piled one on top of the other, are fixed by their own weight and progressively accumulated in the manner of a mound. This work counteracts the impact of the waves, which were broken and tossed to an immense height, thereby producing a prodigious noise. Wooden piers were added to these stones, thereby conferring on this structure the appearance of a natural island. Pliny the Younger calls it a real ‘haven’ and magnifies its author for thus providing infinite benefit to sailors and ships as ‘a secure retreat to ships on that extensive and dangerous coast’.3 To the observer, the harbour of Centumcellae, which, according to Pliny the Younger, is reminiscent of the monumentality of similar main ports across the Tyrrhenian, was presented as filled with superstructures and marine

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gods, from whom not only the actors and harbour workers depicted are involved but also the viewers themselves.4 In Centumcellae and beyond, the ambience of the harbour structures, as also depicted in some of the public representations (e.g. Trajan’s Column and the Arch of Septimius Severus), and the experiences of various visitors are defined by the range of large harbour walls, quays, platforms and tall lighthouses installed directly on the waterfront and often flanked by temples, such as those dedicated to Jupiter, Hercules, Neptune, Oceanus, Portunus and Venus, and by the sculptures whose marine-deity characters are also comparable to those of a renowned group of protagonists, as also visible in other depictions, such as the Torlonia relief, the Nero coin and the Oceanus mosaic.5 Metaphorically, the deities themselves are delighted to see the frenetic and busy life of the docks at their feet. The pictorial decoration of the harbour basin with its happy, carefree and joyful sailors may have contributed to the tone. However, this busy but harmonious maritime life has been made possible through the direct intervention of the emperors, who sponsor and ensure the stability of the structures and the security of their users. The corresponding depiction of the Alexandrian, Claudian and Severan buildings is inspired by Hellenistic models.6 A port image acts within a particular literary and fictional frame of reference that includes the public sphere as a space that makes it possible to address messages of safety and security, thus conveying a visual message on the perception and sense of these themes. Further elements, portrayed in the vast repertoire, such as the famous statue of the colossus, the horrea and the navalia, give the sense of force, strength and solidity. However, the disposition of structures, such as temples, and the representation of deities at the bottom or at the edge of the harbour entrance were also deliberately staged, as described by the artist and recounted by numerous authors, and this impacted the viewers.7 Also, the emperor or ruler took on the role of master of the complex, who inspected the new construction and praised its form, size, scale and grandeur – this also brings to mind control, safeguarding and security as key messages of the artistic agenda that consists of calm waters, massive structures and serene deities and people (alluding to Neptune and emperors), realized in a dense network of images and ritual references.8 In the images, the reconstruction of the port complex attests that it was dominated by temples, cults, mercantile-class members and harbour workers, all evoking protection by the deities and also the emperor and various rulers, especially by the deities presiding over the harbour and maritime life. In the case of Leptis Magna, as visible in the Nile Villa mosaic and the relief on the Arch of

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Septimius Severus, the temple projected into the mole and harbour basin with its large steps, podium and platform, on which the great altar was placed – this represents an excellent setting not only for the staging of the official rites associated with the port, the sea and the temple itself but also with the imperial protection of the waters and seas, as means of patronage and safeguarding of all the harbour elite, corporations, mercantile people and various seamen across the Mediterranean region.9 On Trajan’s Column, within the harbour scenes on the friezes, access to the mole was possible only through the sides because of the buildings, including temples, port buildings and various other spaces; the architecture, including the religious elements, did not appear as a separate entity at all, and such adjoining disposition also provides a sense of security and stability to those who populated and worked in such a huge complex.10 The individual monuments in the harbour area by necessity ceased to be associated with one person, deity or event, and became basically one component in a coherent sociopolitical programme. The coherence and homogeneity of structures’ construction and consequent representation form a pattern that establishes how solidity and trustworthiness were important. The observers and participants were likely restricted in their possible associations – a neutral, detached and open-minded perception is difficult to imagine in this context as all participants, from the high to the lower classes, were fully embedded and emotionally involved in the perception of such physical (i.e. real harbour) and imaginary aspects. It was common for rulers to order that the features of the harbour, as in the representations of later ages, be depicted alongside those commissioned by their ancestors and predecessors, as evident in several media and relating to, for example, Claudius, Nero and Trajan.11 The political agenda, therefore, accommodated images with independent statements, and the usual repertoire took the whole iconographic programme from major hubs. In view of the abundance of images, the perception might then have been selective and targeted – the visitors could also hardly have escaped the serious images that recalled pride in controlling not only vast lands and territories but also ‘infinite’ waters and seas and their histories. Wherever observers decided to meet and work by the great harbour walls and quay, it was often, as several of these media report, near a frieze or a pictorial work – almost no area in the harbour remained untouched by such programmatic imagery.12 Those who visited an undefined harbour and later viewed and interpreted the representation as depicting seafaring or business activities might have also noticed the tones of patronage and protection – these were inevitably used for iconographic influence and orientation.13 This does not mean that the viewers could not also have become upset or lost the meaning of

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this dense set of images and turned to other details, as might have occurred with those viewing the harbour scenes in the panels of Trajan’s Column or in the mosaics at Bad Kreuznach, Ostia, Rimini and Vega Baja.14 The sense of security granted by a high authority, whose basic ground plan is visible through the consolidation of the buildings, is then listed by typologies such as porticoes, moles, vaulted structures, storage spaces, colonnaded squares and also leisure gardens and trees further confirmed in later models.15 There is no doubt that the images belong to, or at least take inspiration from, the different architectonic types or categories of major imperial harbours and also from singular outstanding buildings – in the ports of the Hellenistic age, for example, individual elements overshadow the other structures, such as the pharos, but also administrative spaces, public spaces for sailors and visitors, and the profusion of massive buildings such as arches, colonnades and vaults within the mole and quay sectors.16 Temples, incorporated into the waterfront zone, played a role similar to that of the temples built in other contexts (i.e. city, countryside, etc.), but here it seems that the message is one of secure navigation and full control over sea lanes and routes, under the auspices of the main sponsors and in complicity with marine deities. Also, images of harbour buildings displayed in private spaces, such as the Mosaic of the Ships and the Antiquarium Comunale and Piazza Armerina mosaics, were not part of a coherent programme. The several elements displayed must have been unrelated architectonic or decorative pieces laid out in a specific arrangement. Artworks, at least in part from Gragnano, Pompeii and also Rome, stood in and between real architecture wonders.17 The depictions of harbours by anonymous – albeit important – skilled masters include sacral, idyllic and mythological landscapes and subjects, either always or often contoured by cupids, deities, humans, marine animals, etc., but all these have common details of traditional and social themes relating to commerce, contacts and maritime trade.18 This programmatic rendering allows for a direct response to the concerns of the meaning of the images. Here, the observer might have been free to attach associations to the artworks themselves or to the decorative scheme. One could conceive that the narrative scheme existed for the benefit of the rulers, who made all of these massive works for the people and brought to the empire a renowned period of prosperity and welfare. Also, the direct witnesses of that period noticed that the opulence and variety of the goods and commodities unloaded at Portus symbolized that Rome, but also Alexandria, Aquileia, Corinth, Leptis Magna, Puteoli and Ravenna, were the world’s centre.19 However, there are several alternative interpretations; within the public sphere, there was a much closer

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association with the aspects of presiding and safeguarding. The viewer might be interested too in the subject matter of a work, its artistic quality and how it was conceived and made, and could also grasp several messages within a great representation of huge infrastructural complexes. This does not mean that the theme of ‘safety and security’ prevented viewers from finding other themes. This is evident in the celebrated harbour scene of the Torlonia relief, dating to the Severan period, which was possibly dedicated by a freedman to his emperor and patron.20 If this identification is correct, it is testimony to how seamen and traders perceived the authorities and their works in the harbour sector and maritime world.21 The base of the relief panel is decorated with gods and deities, which demonstrates that it was meant for a celebration, but the deities also produced a serene and bucolic marine setting for the work.22 The impression of happiness and peace in the artwork, which derives from stability, was suggested by a corresponding setting for the renowned deities. These were also the various conditions to which the viewer in the major ports was exposed. Harbour deities would have been situated in very different contexts in the hubs of Leptis Magna, Rome and Alexandria, and they would have been perceived with corresponding associations. The same is true for a second group of works, namely the pictures of structures, ships and various seamen and workers. In one case, the image of a deity as a ruler was also impressed on the viewer through the decorative programme; in another, the principal attraction of the work may have rested on the fact that the artists and commissioners also gave attention to the development of harbour life and its depiction on pertinent media. The contiguous setting of these defined pictorial spaces in the succession of major harbours must also have immediately suggested comparisons to the viewer.23 This was a sign for local residents and frequent and foreign visitors who came to Portus and Leptis Magna, perhaps with a specific purpose and itinerary in mind. Visitors – often sailors and traders – must have also noticed the specific spatial arrangements and visual programme: how the harbour basins became larger over time and were renovated, and how later rulers surpassed one another in expense, structures, facilities and ornaments. And, it was the same for the images: in fact, people saw, through such media and scenes, the developments that occurred over time and the renovations conducted under the auspices of the main authority and protection of celestial divinities. The sponsors were under pressure to compete with public buildings, especially in protecting and securing optimal infrastructure and its functionality. Several sculptural and architectural elements prove that this competition was real. The great storage spaces and vaulted structures at Leptis Magna and Portus, for

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instance, with their impressive spatial disposition (ad developed by the architects and engineers), were repeated several times in different locations. The depiction of the vaults of the porticoes refers to their solidity and stability not only from an architectural but also from a political viewpoint; a solid hub is a gateway for economic and political stability. There are references to the same almost everywhere in the decoration and ornamentation of both the harbour spaces and their visual representations, from the deities to the rulers and sponsors depicted. The artworks make a convincing argument about the corresponding dimensions and measurements of the hubs and their scopes, which can hardly be interpreted other than as deliberate references to the architecture of existing buildings.24 The monumental size and growing costs of the public buildings may also be understood as a tribute to the busy harbour workers and expert sailors. Rulers and sponsors in their role as master builders were in continuous competition with their successful predecessors. In part, this directly influenced style. One needs to compare the luxury and majesty of Classical architectural ornament to that of the earlier and later periods. Through the development towards more expensive decoration and materials, the attention of the viewer was focused on more formal criteria. Architects, artists and sculptors perhaps planned and worked with the viewers and sailors in mind as these Classical artworks provide indisputable evidence for a conscious awareness of the viewer’s experience.25

Private sphere: Representations of abundance and prosperity During Classical antiquity, Greek and Roman private spheres dominated Mediterranean connections, exchanges and trade. Agriculture and manufacturing were well developed, as also documented by detailed literary accounts and archaeological and epigraphic evidence.26 Alongside these activities, various goods were crafted and produced, including rural and non-rural commodities. As the economic growth also affected the periphery of the newly established provinces of the Hellenistic kingdoms and Roman Empire, the Mediterranean basin prospered in terms of trade and quasi-industrial activities.27 Strong production centres in Africa (especially Egypt and Libya), Gaul, Greece and Italy were dominant in the core of the Mediterranean. Later, during Roman times, cereals and grains were imported to the Italian peninsula. Intensive cultivation of olive oil and vineyards secured exports from Italy, and then provinces prospered and trade boomed.

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The images also reflect how, during the Classical era, the Mediterranean enjoyed not only peace and security but also Italian dominance in terms of economic welfare spread across the provincial centres. This reflects the abundance of the provinces and the prosperity of the communities and markets. Italy imported cereals from Sicily and Egypt. Sardinia, Corsica and North Africa exported wheat, oil and timber. The great provinces of Hispania exported a wide range of goods, including metals, olive oil, fish-derived goods and timber. Wine and olive-oil production, distribution and trade were constant throughout the period. Regional wine centres had more local importance, and seas and harbours also played a central role in this business. Commodities were spread throughout the Mediterranean: cargoes and ships crossed the whole sea in order to reach a vast number of markets and towns. Major routes for this cargo led from the western Mediterranean and North African hubs to southern Italy and Rome. Following the dawn of Roman expansion, provinces were established across the whole Mediterranean region and beyond, and urban centres grew consistently along the coasts.28 Changes that occurred were reflected not only in the largescale infrastructural works but also, as we have seen, in artistic production; in terms of harbours, and also marine routes, the model for this visual evidence was the atmosphere, environment and life of the rural and non-rural worlds, including the maritime one. Similar artworks were mass-produced in Italy and were also expressions of a very strong growth that reached its peak during the second century ad. After this, there were major developments, and specific features were depicted selectively in the iconography of the marine economy.29 Crews, mariners and cargo ships that sailed the Mediterranean are the actors and the symbols of such exponential growth and economic stability, while harbours are the backdrop of such economic escalation. The crews were often portrayed in this phase of abundance and prosperity. As we saw in Chapter 2, this is a recurrent element in the friezes and reliefs on sarcophagi with harbour scenes from Ostia, Portus and Rome, including that of the Belvedere Gallery at the Vatican Museums and the Glyptothek sarcophagus. In these representations, the harbour buildings are both architecturally and technologically advanced, and the depicted activities suggest an established economy. Large installations are depicted as inspired by those in the major Mediterranean hubs, i.e. Ostia, Portus, etc. Coastal seafaring and smaller centres, but also good anchorages, piers and beaches, were portrayed as ideal possibilities for reloading cargoes. The images have, in most cases, been created by following such economic and developmental tendencies; therefore, it is reasonable to propose that such major hubs proved to be a source that attests a phase of growth and prosperity for the kingdoms and empire.

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The iconography of harbours also presents a specific position for the harbour facilities, which were presented so as to emphasize their important capacities, which must have been very focused on the theme of the prevention of instability and shortages, and the sense of opulence and prosperity. Several representations of embankments and storage spaces that occupied a huge portion of the harbour complex and construction allude to the presence of foodstuffs and goods for the city and beyond, which served not only as a harmonious and serene visual repertoire but also, and more importantly, as a message of quietness. The same situation is visible in most of the pavement mosaics explored in this work, especially those in which large ships are sailing or returning home and approaching the harbour, often accompanied or escorted by small boats, so as to indicate security, safe arrival and the supply of (non-)exotic and vital goods. These assumptions also connect to the fact that large harbours were not only a source of inspiration for such artistic repertoires; thanks to their presence and work, life on both land and sea was easy, affordable and without the fears, pains and risks of earlier periods. These artworks contain further information on the major improvements that occurred at harbour complexes as a consequence of their significant role in the socio-economic development and growth of the Mediterranean territories.30 The ships depicted, and their sizes, also confirm the connections between harbour and economic life, as these indicate the close relationships of such structures with their social contexts. Considering that the majority of traffic was conducted by cargo ships, and that larger ships (also depicted here) mainly transported wheat to Rome, the presence of both in the narrative repertoire of harbour scenes is a healthy and vital indicator of income and socio-economic progression.31 Furthermore, the images also parade Mediterranean seasonality during Classical antiquity, as the abundance of commerce, exchange of goods and rich trade also derive from fast and secure sailing operations that do not necessarily depend on weather, visibility and sea conditions. In addition, the determination, mastery and skills of the seamen further encourage the achievement of this goal, under the protection of the deities and with a willingness to accumulate their fortune. Within both private and public contexts, despite the use of established and fixed patterns, as well as the copies of and similarities with earlier iconographic schemes, the composition of the scene maintains a characteristic and central identity. The dozens of domestic representations, especially in Latium and Campania dwellings, do not entirely replicate one another, although they are very similar and they were inspired by previous early Hellenistic models, and very few motifs contain repetition or do not contain vital themes.32 These motifs, whether

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the architecture, activities, human figures or animals, and also their narrative scopes, are always used in a different way and with different colours and techniques. Such techniques might result from the owner’s or the artist’s personal choices in adopting a variety of repertoires, colours, architectural-representation formulae, figural scenes or borders and emblems. Artists also had the freedom to make natural looking artworks – this freedom is central to the making of Classical figurative schemes for maritime landscapes.33 For the production of mosaics and wall paintings, several architectural elements would have been impressed on the minds of the artists and mosaic makers, as well as on those of the commissioners, who probably saw places such as Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna in person. Events, deities and humans were central to and often essential elements of these representations, and, in addition to these, natural, vegetal and animal elements were used when space needed to be filled.34 The narrative of monumental architectural elements in tandem with known motifs made the execution effective and guaranteed the successful rendering of the sequence of images, as indicating an original repertoire memorized by artists and workshops, that, thereby indicating that the artists and workshops followed such repertoire in order to speed up production and accomplish the final output. This also explains, at least in part, the shift from depictions of public spaces, general landscapes or mythological stories to a full maritime repertoire as a response to the opulence and welfare of, but also pressure from, house owners and commissioners, both public and private, and the increasing popularity of themes that reflect the advancements (and retreats) of societies during Classical antiquity.

Sources of inspiration and commission Scholarship agrees that, to depict a harbour scene, the archetype to be followed is the model of Studius’ evolution of stylistic landscape representations, which varied from single detailed features to huge infrastructure, and such emphasis on the images of harbour buildings reflected its importance between the marine and terrestrial world.35 Inspiration for the production of harbourscape images likely came from individual elements of established patterns, such as the Pharos at Alexandria, the navalia at Portus, the horrea at Ostia and the molis at Leptis Magna, but commission and patronage also deeply influenced the choice of narrative and repertoire. The Nile mosaic (and, later, the Gragnano picture) demonstrate how representations of the marine world and harbour during Hellenistic times were enriched within the context of Rome and the provinces by

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the continuous addition of specific architectonic motifs that do not reiterate cartographic or topographical needs, but rather address the reality expressed not by the scenes but by the monumental features of the structures and by their high symbolic value. This central aspect is confirmed by a wide range of coin imagery from the first century ad onwards that illustrates how the celebration of different and complex architectonic realities (such as on the Nero coin) form another model for the harbour scene set, as this becomes a source also for later port representations from several former Hellenistic provinces. Images of port architectures and urban landscapes progressively denigrated the original elements of the repertoire, thereby altering the message and marking the shift from representing a specific element to more comprehensive and homogeneous purposes – the porticoed elements and storage structures continued to indicate the urban harbour and landing spot, whether of a public or private port, and monumentalized facades or gulf and river embankments do not necessarily refer to cities but could apply to any maritime cityscape. However, one can say that the reality of the scene is not crucial and that the real elements of the harbour played a decorative role, as represented by individual architectonic scenes. In Hellenistic contexts, however, there is a different trend – representations maintain elements of monumentality but their iconography is fixed and inspired by select buildings. Variety is here highlighted by natural and ecological elements, such as animals, rivers, green spaces, lakes and seas, that maintain their characteristic sources. The Mediterranean environment throughout the centuries became more systematically enriched by distinctive elements that inspire the puzzling combination of multiple and joined structures and natural elements. In the Mediterranean provinces, especially the Eastern ones, the images are essentially simplified and seemingly maintain the Hellenistic repertoire, style and taste. Iconographic symbolism indicates monumentality for several imperial harbour installations in their representations of maritime cityscapes in private and public contexts. For the majority of patrons of private and public images, monumentality was conceived as operating on a human level, and not solely on the divine, cosmic or semi-divine levels. Harbour images operated in private and public contexts of patronage in a manner different to other ‘iconographic repertoires’. For instance, a wall painting from a private house or coin imagery circulating widely across ancient cities were devices that belonged to the private sphere but which played a role within the public context. The harbour iconography used in private and public buildings played a role in inspiring the owner’s social role and identity, but it was also an act of patronage – the iconography embodied concepts and ideas. The depiction of harbour structures, which likely captured the attention of beholders

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and commissioners since ‘harbours which do exist are big and spectacular’,36 physically embodied the idea that the maritime world represents a geography of power.37 Similarly, the artwork pattern in private houses at Pompeii and other Roman provinces of a harbour with a lighthouse and platform had a metaphoric purpose – it conveys the fact that a harbour is uncounquerable and well-protected. The works that mirror those of a master such as Studius demonstrate the social rank and prestige of their commissioner, whether a private or public figure. Because such a harbour image could be understood and enjoyed from the top of a building, there are close associations with features of architectural monumentality. Pliny refers to Ostia, Portus and Ravenna, while Pliny the Younger describes Centumcellae, and Strabo several harbour landing points.38 Imposing architecture that is visible in these media, as in the wall painting at Stabiae or the Torlonia relief, together with the idea of ‘becoming maritime’, as seen in the seafaring activities suggested by ships, fishing and arrivals of cargoes, indicate that, under the Romans, the display of maritime world representations was an aspect of the developed aristocratic and mercantile-class competition.39 The moral suasion of harbour representations in domestic environments, such as in wall paintings and mosaics, operates on different levels, including their decorative aspects which evidence moral generation and the development of structures and activities, thereby conferring the owner’s prestige. The ostentatious display of sponsorship for seafaring activities and structures, and achievements, endeavours and connections with far-away and exotic locations and horizons was then adapted to suit fashionable, but also personal, taste, thus stressing the relevance of the decoration as a vehicle for celebrating advancement, as these ornaments contain expressions of virtues. Moral and social profiles, the rank of the members of the mercantile classes as well as the perception of well-being derived from the beauty and sense of the representation. The qualities for which wonders were admired, for instance outstanding buildings (lighthouses, for example, were considered to mirror enlightenment; storage spaces were a marker of prevention of shortages; and moles, platforms and harbour platforms and walls were liminal markers for connection and economic growth) and the depiction of whole port installations and dispositions were intended to indicate the prestige and the charisma of the commissioner and owner, and this indicates the development and use of port iconography as a means of celebration and inspiration. More broadly, harbour imagery was commissioned as it was considered an index of good reputation, personal growth and socio-economic stability, and also as a sign of the action of patronage.40 The different devices, either fixed or portable, used for harbours and marine landscape representations were adopted to recreate

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proportioned structures as these were symbolic paradigms of the creation of nowcomplete human domination of the Mediterranean. Such iconographies indicate that these monuments were built for the future.41 This aspect is not a secondary one, especially if one considers that buildings such as lighthouses were models for several Roman public and private representations. The desire to portray such structures seems more like a homage to the creation of a sort of divine monument modelled on the archetypal wonder of the world.42 But, like for other harbour installations, the lighthouse was a monument without comparison because of its function, and also because it was a ‘construction marvellous from below and against all reason’.43 It was probably one of the major sources of inspiration for artists, and its monumental features, which derive from its height and the sequence of superimposed levels that make it incomparable to any other building, explain its popularity among commissioners. The form displayed in several media makes clear the building’s resemblance to the Alexandrian pattern.44 But, its awe-inspiring action does not lie solely in the Egyptian origins of this architecture; in fact, its functions and scopes acted as elements of creativity and innovation. Its main function was to guide huge cargoes transporting grain imported from Egypt to feed the populations of big cities – this was inspired by the public grain supply distributed to the free population of Rome – and the main source of this commodity was the plains of the Nile in Egypt and the harbour at Alexandria. Thus, this narrative elucidates the reasons lighthouses became one of the key elements of these depictions. The lighthouses at Alexandria, Ostia, Portus, Ravenna, etc. become popular not only among seamen and those who commissioned their constructions in real harbour complexes but also among those who wanted to depict them and present them in their own artworks for multifarious purposes, such as telling stories about maritime life, illumination of the waters, destinations of and safe arrival after long sea voyages, personifications and the protection of deities and rulers. All of these symbolic elements evolved from the Ptolemaic Egypt pattern, and they were used for other towering constructions and representations across the Mediterranean, for example the newly built, restored and depicted lighthouses. Other structures, such as moles and storage spaces of the Graeco-Roman world, became the real ‘new wonders of the ancient world’ as well, however.45 The scale of this construction denotes the celebration and commemoration of technological advancement and the promotion of infrastructure in Italy, Greece and along the entire Mediterranean coast, and the authorities’ and mercantile classes’ guarantee of food for Rome and the future prosperity allowed by rulers and princeps, but it is also an ornament that had to be included in most of the harbour scenes as

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containing multifarious valid messages.46 At the end of the Classical era, artists, commissioners and rulers were still inspired by and used the lighthouse as an emblem on several media.47 That is to say that the pharos was not only the symbol of Alexandria, or the symbol of the restoration of Italy, or a personification of the ruler authority, or a celebration of the principate or the reign, but was also a monument that both private figures and rulers commissioned to recall the message of happiness and prosperity propagated, although intermittently, over the Mediterranean region from Ptolemy onwards. The images of the lighthouse, whether in a painting in a domestic context or on a frieze in a public monument, reveal contemporary concerns about ensuring that light and safety last, and human labour, as an archetypal message of eternity, inspires both artists and commissioners throughout the different periods.48 This tradition might have motivated architects and artists to develop and use such architecture in order to convey the motifs embodied by a multistorey tower. In summary, this reflects the role of this towering structure in safeguarding routes pursued by sailors of the Mediterranean seaborne empires, while, for the architects and artists, depicting a lighthouse paid homage to one of the stunning wonders of the ancient world.

The marine environment and visual media: An instrument for education in antiquity The representation of marine environments, as depicted within the diverse visual media, acted as a vehicle for developing educational skills. As a form of paideia, it operated on three levels: instructing the audience about the ecology and environment, the defeat of human and non-human threats, and the sustainability of and welfare deriving from the sea. The use of marine environments to convey cultural identities or social interactions is understandable when we consider the works of patrons and seamen, as they found in these iconographies a means of economic and social connectivity as well as mobility.49 In addition, artistic representations are an instrument for communicating, learning and teaching, and, thus, of empowering knowledge in antiquity. The patronage of harbour constructions and representations gave seamen an opportunity to use their enormous wealth for architectural and artistic benefaction, such as sponsoring public and private works including anchorages, harbour walls and warehouses, as well as porticoes and temples.50 In fact, by developing the rendering of advanced architecture, patrons and seamen had the chance to deliver messages to an important audience and to teach through such images details that would have

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been otherwise unknown to various involved spectators. Architectonic elements of the marine world were common subjects that convey extensive interest and ostentation in the decoration and ornament of monuments and more complex structures, but, by transmitting such aspects, the image and its commissioner also undertake outreach and public engagement. Throughout the Mediterranean, emperors, members of the navy, patrons and seamen’s associations paid for the construction and, more often, the restoration of moles, quays, storage rooms and walls. As a consequence of this, they wanted to incorporate such achievements and events within the narrative of the visual media in order to communicate their endeavours. Thus, telling these stories to a varied audience allowed them to create a special relationship between rulers and people, seamen and clients, owners and friends, that mirrors that of teachers and students. The use of artworks depicting maritime buildings for educational purposes was common during Classical antiquity, which indicates a purpose beyond the projection of authority, power, fame and fortune. Late Hellenistic wall paintings and portable objects not only conveyed the luxuries and reputations of leading mercantile classes but were also exploited for the distribution and dissemination of knowledge – a purpose that then became almost common in later Roman ages, with the aim of satisfying the indirect demands and needs of viewers and visitors. Representations of the Roman age, when the rendering of a marine structure was characterized by a strong emphasis on ‘monumental style’, influenced the taste and view of the patrons and the skills of the artists, who, more or less consciously, wanted to highlight and promote this aspect and share it with other people. Therefore, the rendering of a harbour structure – through a polychrome tesserae mosaic, or the colours on a wall painting, or the light-and-shadow effects on friezes and reliefs, for depicting moles, quays, etc.51 – or the imagining of exotic places and the monumental characteristics of the infrastructure, flattered the patron, but also placed him in a position of authority and mastery as he introduced knowledge and the maritime world to a (perhaps wide) audience.52 The delivery of messages, the explanation of the meaning contained in the images and the wide circulation of aesthetics, knowledge and mastery over the maritime world were products of public and private patronage and high-level benefaction. In both private and public spheres, maritime-environment cityscapes were the most direct means of communicating to the viewers unknown environments and territories and of informing them about what existed ‘on the other side of the sea’. This educational aspect prompted the desire to know more and to discover other cities and markets of the ‘now-globalized’ ancient Mediterranean.53 In such contexts, harbour scenes also highlight the

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value of decorations, but, most importantly, they indicate how these illustrations want to instruct viewers on the ‘balanced’ impact of human actions on the maritime cosmos and how, thanks to humans, the architecture presents civilization and dominance over ‘untamed’ nature. This is another educational aspect conveyed to a vast audience that implies development, expansion, morality and the status of the emperor, patron or even teacher.54 The members of the mercantile class were, after rulers, the greatest patrons of harbour architectural elements and artworks, and probably more than rulers were pleased to inform customers and observers about such themes.55 The media that depict harbour installations emphasize, at least for the Roman age, the limitlessness of the actions of the rulers and sponsors, both private and public. The patrons could pay for the finest artworks and had the taste and willingness to develop the arguments of paideia behind the images. Sponsoring and/or depicting the structures as symbols of power frozen in stone enabled patrons to emphasize their status, present themselves as masters of knowledge, and convey their access to not only a large network of markets, materials, commodities and skills but also knowledge, including about ecology, environment and geography.56 As noted, these artworks, which were paid for by both rulers and patrons, directly reflect acts of benefaction but also convey a message closely linked to the circulation and dissemination of knowledge and ideas about the maritime world. From this knowledge, three moral lessons emerge regarding ecology, environment, and risks and welfare (others remain undeciphered). In terms of themes related to ecology and environment, the organization of seaborne empires and harbour installations, and also the considerable enlargement of Mediterranean territories controlled by Hellenistic and Roman principates, the visual content of these images addresses opinions and teaches about the maritime ecology and environment.57 It seems that, in these media, the Graeco-Roman relationship with nature, in particular with the marine world, was harmonious and balanced. This view, which was probably conveyed to observers and various learners, was centred on details including helpful waters, allied sea animals, friendly winds, waves and currents, and a happy and carefree marine life. The fearful power of the marine world is not fully expressed here: streams and stormy seas, sea monsters, dark waters and wrecked vessels are not depicted in these media, and, as such, they do not present such environments as hosting anxiety, fear and terror.58 It can be assumed that direct intervention from rulers, or even divine powers, neutralized such threats after ritual practices, as sometimes imagined in the scenes. Seafaring, as well as the construction of harbours, implies the human ‘invasion’ of or ‘intrusion’ into the water sphere, an act which necessitates rituals and practices for expiation and thanksgiving.59 Deities

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and temples, which are often framed within the liminal space of the harbour front, are a bridge between the anthropized world of the urban context and the water that is associated with the natural and divine world. Admiration of and devotion to marine gods and to the calendar of the sailing season were celebrated and respected.60 Rituals were performed to evoke divine intervention in controlling climatic hazards, such as winds, streams, rains and storms, to guarantee safe navigation and return, as well as protection of the cargoes, and all such aspects contained within the scene were relevant for instructional and training purposes. The themes of ecology and respect for the marine environment, which mirror the emotional and human investigation of the marine nature, as perceived by the artworks, are fully addressed and exploited as proper educational subjects. The Hellenistic rulers as well as the Roman princeps or elite went far beyond the mythical and idyllic interpretations of nature, and, within the iconographic frame of these devices, partially explained the marine world using a rational tone; this approach was also adopted in the private context.61 Ecology was depicted in parallel with natural events, and, in the harbour scene, the pattern connects nature and the marine environment – water, sea animals and human health are all elements of interaction between people and nature, and this interaction needs to be circulated and explained.62 Moreover, the Mediterranean had unpredictable, albeit navigable, waters, as well as windy but balanced climate conditions, and rich but shallow coastal waters, which allowed for swift travel and fast exchanges and whose features were constantly noted in visual media. The ‘lessons’ also include harbour structures that stabilized harsher coasts, enabled landing operations, calmed formerly changeable environment conditions and shaped industrious cultures and ideal conditions for commerce and travel. The scenes also dictate to a ‘civilized audience’ the multivalent complicity between nature and people that is predominantly benevolent thanks to divine and human interaction. There is a sense of equality, based on the complicity of humans and nature, whereby on the one hand, humans have to be devoted to and respect nature, and, on the other hand, humans may have control of, though not complete dominance over, the elements. Therefore, from these images emerges, through seafaring activities, a sense of control over the marine world, and this story is told both orally and visually.63 A balanced and harmonious maritime life was achieved through humans operating with and respecting nature.64 This intrusion is allowed through the development of commercial, navigational and technological skills as well as cultural, moral and social aspects, as, when combined, these transform seaborne societies into well-organized systems, in which exist respect and celebration of nature and exploitation and use of resources.

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Such images also display and teach people about the cycles of nature, such as fishing, returning from catching sea goods, sailing overseas, following sea routes and winds, and these were fully understood and perceived. The images had the power to propagate and disseminate such information and, thanks to this, respect for the environment is moderated and performed through compliance between divinities and humans.65 The visual language of these repertoires seems to state to the audience that humans must treat nature appropriately and carefully as this would enable them to maintain and support the ‘civilized world’, economic prosperity and social order.66 Therefore, observers learned how the careful exploitation of nature could permit the continuation of ‘world order’ and protect the processes of technological advancement, human dominion and protection from ruinous events. In these images, nature is passionate and sensible, but also close to the human dimension, full of moral implications that adhere to the canons of humankind, and such a dimension is perpetuated and taught through generations of various classes.67 Seamen remained strongly connected to the maritime world, as also evident in these representations, and, by respecting and celebrating it, they learned that they had the great opportunity to control it and to achieve the rank of master of the sea (and, thus, of nature) – finally freeing them from the dangers and fears of the environment, nature and death – and, by understanding these processes, to prosper and work and live safely and happily. The desire for textual and visual representations of country life, as celebrated and invigorated after the Hellenistic period, is now partly replaced or at least flanked by the emergence of marine iconography to counteract the love for rural and urban environments, culminating in the maritime tradition of seaborne realms, where the marine dimension in visual art offered a means of learning about ecology and nature, in its aspects of water, coasts and marine life. With regard to the second level, the paideia elaborated through these representations indicated how, during Classical antiquity, the Mediterranean Sea was dominated by seaborne societies, from the Phoenicians and Greeks to the Romans.68 The seafarers’ and traders’ attitudes are here portrayed to recount social and political conditions. The artworks are not serious evidence for arguing the complete suppression of piracy and the absolute control of the Mediterranean route; but, these visual media differ from other contemporary references from the third and second centuries bc or from the first and second centuries ad in specific historical narratives, as these also have ‘timeless’ features that include stories related to entertaining and learning about and ensuring the stability of the Mediterranean.69 The iconographic evidence seemingly indicates the tendency to illustrate to contemporaries how sea routes were consolidated and naval wars,

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piracy and raids finally vanished after the establishment of seaborne empires that assured control and stability over sea-lane routes.70 The vivid tone of magniloquence and approval for their achievements and actions as a result of defeating competitors and securing routes by restoring the bounds of normal civilization thus provide evidence for educational and fictional narratives that report the establishment of hellenized and imperial maritime systems in the Mediterranean. The depiction of harbours is, after all, evidence of the extent of the peace and the ways in which adversaries, enemies, pirates and other human threats became invisible within these visual narratives, as the depictions of a now fully patrolled Mediterranean deleted all the fears and threats. Thus, through the reconstruction of harbour and navigational environments, images tell their audience how seamen navigate spaces through landscape features including headlands, promontories, islands, bays and, more importantly, cities, sanctuaries and temples. But, equally important are the seascape features, including the colours of the water, depth changes, sediment, marine life and animals, as well as currents, clouds and winds, and the ‘third-scape’ features that relate to the imagined and sacral spaces. The third level of the paideia regards the welfare deriving from sea exploitation.71 As seen in Chapters 4 and 5, the sustainability of sea routes was enabled by the export of commodity surpluses and the consequent research on profitable markets. Classical texts sometimes express pessimism about the idea of ecology and environment, but they were also aware that both sea and environment could not exist without the compliance and power of a human presence that mitigates risk through technological advancement and makes the marine world profitable and lucrative.72 Therefore, the sea itself enabled seamen to make life easier and wealthier thanks to the revenues generated by medium- and longdistance trade, and to elaborate a narrative about these things. The images not only celebrate the respectful relationship with marine nature but also teach observers the leading economic role of humankind, as, through the exploitation of sea routes, it is possible to export and reach far-flung markets and grow and prosper, thus maintaining the market economy and order.73 Also in this case, a ‘domesticated’ Mediterranean is the centrepiece of such depictions, which makes it an ideal place for open routes and seas without storms, and for gentle shores, fine breezes and calm waters along rough coastlines.74 Seaborne empires might seem to contravene what was stated above about nature and the ecological sensibilities of ancient societies;75 however, despite the wide exploitation of marine resources and the large-scale export of rural and nonrural goods, the activities were counterbalanced and sustainable. Although the

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aim of these societies was utility and profit, the preservation of maritime sources for future development and exploitation was treated with great care. Therefore, income and welfare derived from business and the management of agricultural (and also non-agricultural) commodities which provide subsistence to human populations, but they also derived from the large-scale sale of surplus products, which developed into export on a systematic basis.76 The marine world in this regard is strictly linked to the trade and commerce of products, and wine, oil and cereals were among the products most widely and intensively traded via ship.77 With regard to Rome, very cheap cereal reached the capital from overseas, and was destined for Italian markets. This is visible in the images depicting cargoes and loads of commodities coming to Portus.78 The circulation of major foodstuffs, such as wine, oil and cereals orientated the agricultural practices and maritime trade towards a wealthy economy organized on a large scale, which developed into a systemic setting for major real estate located at easily attainable distances from the coast and major port hubs. The continuity of and development in representing welfare deriving from the exploitation of marine landscapes and resources, as evident in the iconographic repertories from Roman times, demonstrate how relevant was the socio-economic characterization of an extensive area around the Mediterranean. The vast territorial expansion resulted in the connection of several portions of the Mediterranean territory, and this opened them up to the creation of marine settlements and economic activities; therefore, the intensification of commerce, contact and trade developed an idealization of marine nature by the Romans, and, in this relationship with the natural environment, they saw a contract that enabled them to create a profitable and successful existence. Economy here is not imagined solely at a general level, especially in terms of lucrative and profitable activities; rather, there is a ‘religious’ respect for nature and climatic factors including wind and waters. There is also a challenge that needs to be conquered by developing technical skills and scientific advancements. Thus, controlling and mastering natural elements, and also respecting natural resources, allowed for the prosperity and opulence that is visible in all of these scene sets.79 Sea and resource exploitation led to global and local environmental consciousness and, although the impacts and effects of Classical societies on the Mediterranean drastically increased, the systematic use of nature resulted in sailing, navigation and technological revolution, as well as in superlative economic growth.80 From the images it clearly emerges, though in quasi-idyllic and paradisiac manners, that soils were exploited, levees were reinforced and built up, and water basins were artificially reinforced and converted into real

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infrastructure. All of these works – clearly rendered in harbour images – served the purposes of export and commerce, the provision of supplies to major urban centres and also the countryside, and the enjoyment of aesthetic and luxurious lifestyles. Harbour installations and the opening of new landing points with quays, moles, bollards, etc. made it possible for the Romans to set up an extensive economic maritime network for the trade of commodities and goods over long distances. Roman and non-Roman products circulated widely across most areas of the Mediterranean, and this opened up new horizons for people; visual representations were a medium to celebrate such advancements and commemorate the vast and fruitful well-being provided to the general public on a large-scale and long-term basis.81 People also acknowledged their own responsibility for taking care of the sea, as a major ally of seaborne empires, and their own role in preserving and thanking it for the large benefits it gives to their communities; this celebration is also evidence of its power and economic limitlessness.

Conclusion This chapter has built upon selected case studies to argue that the Mediterranean remained a highly stable and connected water space during the first, second and third centuries ad. The practice of commissioning mosaics, frescoes, friezes and reliefs for the dissemination of themes pertaining to harbour- and seascapes had greatly increased in the Roman Mediterranean by the second century ad, and there is much information for the educational function of the marine environment as transmitted through the visual media. The evidence examined here indicates the mixed value of many of these images. The maintenance of the repertoire and the construction of an identity based on trade and connectivity confirm the importance of these significant artworks. The evidence for marine environment and settlements within mosaics and frescoes also demonstrates that the community enjoyed and shared knowledge that served educational purposes, and that the works were offered by emperors and/or wealthy individuals. Such ‘visualization’ of the Mediterranean was built on the meanings and scopes of the harbourscapes and waterscapes of the Classical world, and this imagery was also constructed on the monumentality of the Roman infrastructures, which allowed for the exploitation of further educational and informative details.

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Epilogue Maritime Cities: An Iconography of Power

Conclusions This concluding chapter assesses the value of the symbolic resonance of the harbour representations in the ancient Mediterranean during Classical antiquity. This monograph investigates how the spatial disposition of ancient ports within their urban space influenced visual dimensions, and the role they may have played and the image they may have transmitted. These central tenets are in stark contrast to previous hypotheses on the topographic readings of harbour scenes within this region. Indeed, previous scholarly views that support topographic interpretations and the ‘realness’ of the images are challenged here. The richly detailed scenes depicting both maritime landscapes and structures from the Mediterranean region have not yet been investigated fully as the topic has never before been approached holistically or without adopting a uniform perspective. Thus, this work provides original interpretations of the symbolic meanings and messages of the iconographies of ancient harbours and maritime cityscapes. The iconographic evidence of the ancient ports used in this work is extensively and cohesively analysed to determine the significance of harbourscapes in antiquity, thereby providing a coherent overview of the evidence in this region and clarifying the development, success and transmission of harbours as a privileged subject in Classical art. Case studies were chosen based on the lack of significant works (from a harbour perspective) on these sites, as well as the availability of much underestimated data.1 The harbour images were selected in light of their historical importance, reputation, portrayals, the presence of major infrastructure, artistic value and the details of the events, people and scenes depicted, and also because of the monumental characteristics of the structures. Representations of anchorages, beaches and natural landing points were also included in this work

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because these played an important role in the development of harbours as a topic for visual representations (see, for instance, the Nile mosaic) – they acted as a starting point for the later creation and evolution of harbour images as a privileged artistic repertoire within the Mediterranean region. The absence of major specific works that could satisfactorily answer questions about why the wider scale and scopes of the structures became elements to be exploited on visual media created a lacuna that needed to be filled through a cohesive work that examines this maritime territory in its entirety, or at least as much as possible.2 In this regard, the available iconographic evidence has enabled the revision of the outdated topographic approach to harbour scenes as well as a wider exploration of how the harbours and their buildings, together with the environment and related implications, interacted with settings, societies and systems by exploiting fictional and narrative elements. The rendered infrastructural elements and environments provide a cohesive understanding of the practices of harbour iconography adopted in Classical antiquity. In order to support the hypotheses on the symbolic value of the structures, an investigation of Hellenistic and Imperial Mediterranean harbours allowed for the proposal of a more precise characterization of these scenes. To do justice to the scale, capacity, life and setting of the harbours depicted in the images, they were analysed in terms of their consolidation, the monumentality of their facades and the portrayal of harbour life. In addition, the close connection between the harbour and urban setting, as expressed in most of the images, was addressed by underscoring the significance of the port’s monumentality and its constitutive elements, for example arches, bridges, lighthouse, porticoes, warehouses and public and private spaces. Following a consideration of their scale and setting, it emerged that Mediterranean port scenes of Classical antiquity did not express cartographic and topographic purposes, but rather developed symbolic and metaphorical messages, as well as ones relating to identity. The scopes of these harbour scenes is based in the much greater attention paid to their socio-economic, political and propagandistic roles, as well as their educational, fictional and sometimes pedagogic functions, especially in relation to the themes of ecology, environment, safety, security and welfare in the ancient Mediterranean world. The evidence highlights the relationships between maritime centres and socio-economic activities, which offer a means of expanding the current approach to harbour iconography. The wall paintings that depict harbours and seas suggest that the coastal centres along the Mediterranean during Classical antiquity were probably the richest and most prosperous territories in the whole basin, especially in terms of the agricultural goods produced. Also, the rich details

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about activities and environments can tell us about production, the extent of monumentalization along the coast, the evolution of navigable skills, the exploitation of lands and waters, the relationships between liminal spaces and the urban and rural cosmos, as well as population and coastal settlements, loading and unloading operations, and the improvement of structures for commercial scopes. In this respect, the twofold analysis of iconographic sources, especially those from the Roman period, revealed the metaphorical and semiotic significance of the major activities carried out here, and ‘experimentally’ proposed that the images were all models for conveying aspects concerning the production and circulation of commodities, and the development of lucrative activities. Aspects of other activities, such as fishing, the exploitation of sea products and those from rural environments, trade in marble and stone, and maritime activities, reveal evidence of a range of diverse economic activities conducted on a substantial scale. The images also allow us to perceive crucial elements relating to several aspects of Mediterranean connectivity, such as contacts with and sailings to exotic and far-flung hubs and markets. These are also linked to the aspects relating to the purposes and scopes of both harbour infrastructure and representations. It has been suggested that, from the end of the Hellenistic period onwards, the high volume of commodities being transported had a likely and reciprocal relationship with harbour capacity, development and fortune, and this was reflected in several media. Iconographic data available for Mediterranean connectivity indirectly indicates the synergy between the harbour centres and other major cities, as attested by the vital circle based on the distribution of commodities and materials. Iconography was inspired by models that one can identify in major coastal centres, especially those at Alexandria, Leptis, Ostia and Rome.3 These were likely the main sources of influence for such artworks, and they also elucidate that the sea did not provide hazards, troubles or risks to sailing, ship capacity and the scale of export and shipping. Therefore, the visual media reflect a trend (social, but also economic) based on the growth of major-scale shipping and the fact that harbour infrastructure was of fundamental importance as both a facilitator and a product of economic growth. Furthermore, such images demonstrated the plausibility of viewing associations, corporations and guilds of harbour workers and seamen, including shippers, merchants and traders, as key actors in these images. Although indirectly, the archaeological and epigraphic evidence for shipowners and sailors indicates the institutional complexity of shipping, and the scale of work connected both directly and indirectly to the business of sea export owing to the

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other economic activities in these nodal cities – this was portrayed with care in wall paintings and mosaics. Although great attention was paid to indirect aspects of such businesses, such as ships, cargoes, preparation for sailing and the loading of animals and goods, and, more rarely, sailors and skippers performing their duties, the role of such corporations in Classical art is clearly suggested in the sophistication of the images and the wealth deriving from maritime activities. The images also reiterate a naval message, as do other characteristics of both the media and structures, with a focus on devices such as public monuments from the Roman age that highlight a strong logistic function and the exercise of power operated through the harbours. In other words, the multivalent messages deciphered through the reading of the scenes can also be summarized as the results and definition of the role of the Mediterranean maritime centres as interfaces with the nearest territories with ports which acted as connectors and distributors of major commodities and people, as perceivable through time. The visual representations of Mediterranean ports, despite their relatively short life during the Imperial period, acted as indexes of and markers for imperial domination and perspective. The depictions of undefined ports and their contexts, especially from the second century ad, can be related to what was argued in Chapter 2 about the triumphal imagery behind monumental harbours, and how ‘monumentality’ became a source and a model for the programmatic development of success and victory in various social contexts. In the case of Trajan’s Column, the port scenes may be linked to the sponsorship of harbour buildings and infrastructural renovations along the Mediterranean coasts, with a focus on the selected regions and territories, such as the Adriatic, Aegean, Dalmatian and Tyrrhenian. These scenes emphasize connections between the main – that is, imperial – authority, and local communities (i.e. corporations, mercantile class) of the hubs along the coastal interfaces between Italy, Greece and the new Danubian province. Similarly, the Mosaic of the Ships emphasizes trade, perhaps especially the connections with Eastern provinces and the associated wealth and wellbeing that comes with it, and thanksgiving for the safe return of the sailors, as demonstrated by a dense web of apotropaic and votive motifs. Investigations into the Antiquarium Comunale, Bad Kreuznach, Ostia and Vega Baja mosaics additionally stress how, even in later periods, the Mediterranean hubs were still recorded and celebrated for their reputation and the work of their seamen and inhabitants as a vital centre during the Imperial period. The visual sources also present social and historical arguments concerning identity, the cessation of urban rivalry, and economic, military and political control, all of which were manifested in the image of the ports from Classical

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antiquity. Beginning with the Gragnano painting and the rich set of frescoes from Latium and Campania, the memory of the ancient ports of the Mediterranean was repeatedly invoked in artistic observations and in the enthusiastic rendering of exotic and original environmental details that enriched the satisfaction and views of both owners and visitors. Observations on harbour complexes drew evidence from the earlier Hellenistic period for debates concerning local and regional economy, and also imperial ambitions, whereby the desire to know more about these places was often combined with its manipulation in economic and political affairs. All of these elements also act as the historical context of these sources, which provide new insights into the perception of harbour life and seafaring activities. Harbours, as one of the privileged subjects of Classical art, developed in a context in which the image of the past and present is fictionally manipulated for reasons which vary substantially over space and time. However, this allows us to assess how such structures and their forms, functions and spatial dispositions within their urban and regional contexts were important, and how – through them – connections within a wider pan-Mediterranean context and beyond were achieved. This not only indicates the uselessness of topographic aspects seen through these representations but also elucidates the connectivity and growth of the Mediterranean harbours, which, rendered in such manner, also do justice to the wider context of the ancient economy and life. The iconographic evidence provides much scope for arguing for the centrality, operation and reputation of ancient harbours, thus confirming their relevance and role across the region. These fictional images also clearly indicate how Mediterranean ports impacted on and would have been arranged within their urban spaces, marking the continuity of human action and interaction not only with respect to land but also, and especially, water.4 The exploration of the ‘monumentalization’ and rendering of port facades regarding aspects of their harbour layout and urban setting, as well as examining them in relation to diverse representations, demonstrates that, although most of the ports, as they have recently been discovered by archaeological enquiries,5 were often medium sized and regional, thanks to their organization and functions they had considerable relevance within the collective imagery. The evidence demonstrates that these impacted on different levels, not only environmentally but also ecologically and socially, as they are recorded as being built by exploiting natural shelters and by reinforcing natural environmental landscapes (e.g. anchorages, bays, beaches, gulfs, lagoons and river mouths) – these underwent major works that were commissioned by main authorities, magistracies, merchants, etc.6 The visual evidence also proves that perception of the monumentality of

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harbours has been a fact since the Hellenistic age, which revises previous interpretations that most of the Mediterranean ports were natural and sheltered landing points, and that monumentality characterized only major hubs and during later periods.7 Welfare deriving from the ports was expressed by depicting the population, including fishermen and sailors, living harmoniously, and with the agricultural economy and sea-goods exploitation prospering, and infrastructural works booming. Thus, the role of such maritime cities and ports as distributors of commodities and as interfaces with the rest of the Mediterranean was accomplished. The images celebrated and indirectly determined the role of these undefined harbours by emphasizing how these structures likely served as hubs in the shipping of foodstuffs produced in the local hinterland. Therefore, the celebration of marine life and seafaring activities is also an indirect eulogizing of the whole economic world. This also demonstrates that images depicted how the Mediterranean region served as a large-scale source of produce during Classical antiquity, and especially from the Hellenistic period, when it was well connected to and traded with several Eastern markets, primarily in the Middle East and Arabia; this is indicated by the emphatic rendering of exotic environments and settings. This also demonstrates the entanglements within the Mediterranean region (and beyond). By using fixed, but always different, iconographic patterns, both authors and commissioners presented narratives about contacts, navigation and routes, thereby proving to themselves and to viewers that their world was well integrated within the Mediterranean. Most of these key visual accounts with the ancient Mediterranean harbourscapes as a subject aid our comprehension of the aspects of celebration and resonance in antiquity. Such celebratory and triumphal harbour imagery provides evidence of perceptions of the harbours’ roles, safety, trade and security of navigation and water control. The later representations lead to the conclusion that artists, from the Classical age onwards, utilized harbour monuments across the Mediterranean to create and project political and economic inspiration – this is contrary to the well-established tradition of depicting landscapes in Classical art which emphasizes the pleasure of representing idyllic and mythological scenes, and, only secondarily, monuments, for a large part of the repertoire. This reveals, though in a different context and under different rulers, a pattern of artistic expression that not only indicates a new trend in Classical art but also articulates the contemporary meanings and messages that the ancient harbour structures had in antiquity, a significance that is more complex and elaborate than that of usual fictional scenes.

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These iconographic materials provide tangible evidence of the intentions of artists, patrons, rulers and sponsors behind the observation, documentation and representation of these maritime landscapes. The emphasis on the power and value of such monuments reinforces the conclusion that the role played by the harbour, as a complex of monuments, during the Classical and, more emphatically, the Roman age, was significant and distinctive and differed from the interpretations of other ancient buildings, especially in relation to the political implications and economic potential to be derived from the exploitation of the infrastructure. The visual evidence from later historical periods, including the late Imperial period, also demonstrates that the perpetuation, transmission and reception in antiquity of such depictions in the Mediterranean related to the formation and shaping of a new understanding, which was political, socioeconomic and intellectual, of the physical elements of the structures by locals, outsiders, visitors and viewers. The major Mediterranean port cities (e.g. Alexandria, Portus and Leptis Magna) have been of great importance within the scholarly tradition, but rarely have they been studied as inspiring and influential patterns for visual repertoires. Owing to their scale and complexity, these structures definitely occupied a central, well-known position in the ancient Mediterranean, within the dynamic context of the cities of this region, and their individual outstanding architectural elements not only served major structural purposes but also acted as distinctive elements that stressed their grandeur, for example harbour walls, lighthouses and storage spaces. The scale and implied capacity of such architectural elements, as rendered in media, suggest that these developed functions which were exploited for economic reasons but also for matters of prestige and superiority. Later, the legacy of these harbours is further evidenced by images which clearly express the ability to create identity and shape communities in the fragmented context of the Late Antique period. The exploitation of the commercial and economic themes in port images, and the seafaring activities carried out therein, highlight the multifaceted purposes of these artworks. These artworks formed not only a model for the study of the rendering of landscapes and structures but also a vehicle for studying the symbolic value of exchanges and connections between this region and its territories, and its role as an interface within the Eastern frontiers. To understand the purposes of the messages addressed by rulers and owners through these media, we must recognize that the connectivity aspects were not intended as mere mappings or simple portrayals of the scale of harbour structures and their spatial disposition, but rather as a way of stressing the meaning of the context

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and role of ports as an interface, thus doing justice to their functions. The iconographic value, when applied to the study of harbourscapes of various periods, also reveals more details on the synergies between the ecology and environment and economy, and the interaction between coast and hinterland, thereby strengthening the case for future works exploring the associations of this partnership, for example harbour and coastal sites and hinterlands. Rich iconography relating to the Mediterranean Sea had a pedagogic aspect, and its social appeal is attested in its use in decorating luxurious dwellings from the Roman age. Also, regarding this pedagogic aspect, which could be considered one of the major themes in iconographic productions during Classical antiquity, the features prompt us to pose questions about how ancient harbour images were used for pedagogic purposes. The legacy transmitted by the evidence for the wide and articulated maritime context of the Classical Mediterranean also includes more original and alternative observations on how harbour complexes experienced a phase of evergreen interest, including as a privileged scholarly subject, owing to the messages they conveyed, the identity they manifested and the historical implications they bequeathed through generations. The history and reception of these images emphasize their wealth of information, which inspired different people, their role as disseminators of content and value over time, and how harbours helped to shape societies across the Mediterranean.

Symbolism vs reality: The message behind the iconography of the maritime world The role of the harbour scenes, as key components of Classical art, remains a central question in maritime studies.8 Harbourscapes must have formed a pattern which played a key role in enabling the large-scale use and transmission of a visual repertoire of monuments, commodities and traffic, trade and contacts. Whether or not they represented real places, the paintings enjoyed a certain prestige throughout the Roman age, as they inspired painters, artists and mosaicmakers with a message that goes far beyond the simple depiction of a specific sea centre. Across the Mediterranean, the popularity of port scenes was made possible by the diffusion of various meanings on different levels which are evident in different contexts. The artworks, although inspired by established patterns, rejected the close association of their content with specific regions and centres by acting as depictions of the main infrastructure that supported Mediterranean

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economic growth and enabled long-distance connections. As these maintain specific details including political hegemony, demonstration of power and complicity among societies and classes, socio-economic relationships, and educational and pedagogic purposes, and although they include depictions of supported long-distance exchange, local trade and traffic, and elements of logistics support to connect hinterland centres and hubs, these port images are the only ones to depict the large-scale movement of goods. Of course, depictions of marine trade are the fastest way to communicate the connection between most of the territories of the seaborne empires and the vitality and wealth coming from shipping goods, thus contributing to the consolidation of economies and the circulation and distribution of commodities and people, without any specific need to associate such wealth with a certain place.9 These harbour paintings aided in the comprehension of the role of major Mediterranean ports and the scale of the commodities traded therein. The visual representations of the Mediterranean tell us a story of the growth of the agricultural, manufacturing and commercial activities related or linked to the boom in harbours that helped the economy to grow, especially during the Imperial period. The population, which was settled across important strips of coastal land in regions and territories over thousands and thousands of kilometres of settlements, as perceivable in the scenes, participated, through the exploitation of the sea, in creating and perpetuating a large-scale, advanced agricultural and maritime economy. In this context, one should also note especially the seafaring activities, which are evidence, albeit indirect, of the systematic organization of the maritime world and the exploitation of marine sources. The iconographies indicate that, in this region, the movement of commodities and people via sea could have contributed substantially to satisfying the needs of the nearest provinces, thus inserting them in a well-connected circle. The commodities portrayed here, such as oil, wine and wheat, which were the most popular items, indicate that demand was met and that the export of an appreciable surplus almost certainly occurred regularly. The images show that exports were primarily destined to supply nearby territories, and ceramic containers, seamen and ships indicate the routes of Mediterranean commodities and people and the connections between various provinces. The manufacturing and trade of several items are here well attested, as evidenced by the depiction of producers, dealers and traders in both hinterland and coastal centres. The presence of dealers, merchants and seamen in the scenes suggests the existence of relationships and that such products satisfied the regional and trans-regional markets of the provinces. Within such scenes, oils, fish products and wine indicate the exports to these

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regions, as do, though on a minor scale, timber and stones, which were necessary for all the buildings, construction and repairs that were carried out in these hubs and centres. Illustrations of these products clearly address questions on the demands and needs of regional markets in the wider Mediterranean context. The effective role of the harbours depended on the presence of an economic system in the hinterland. The development of the harbour complex is reflexively linked to a mutually beneficial partnership with the hinterland, between coastline and countryside. The consolidation of a rich, well-organized and quasi-industrial hinterland resulted from the major infrastructural works promoted by the Senate, the authority, cities, communications routes, the economy and ports, which, especially during the second phase, contributed to the development of agricultural and commercial systems.10 Iconographic evidence for infrastructural works (e.g. for the construction of roads) indicates that sponsors including local magistrates and merchants were likely involved in the promotion of harbour construction. Major infrastructural works promoted by emperors and rulers demonstrate the involvement of such figures in sponsoring major infrastructural projects.11 These infrastructural works and the later construction of ports grew in parallel with the large-scale growth in production and seafaring activities. Moreover, such works, which were undertaken since the dawn of Classical antiquity, favoured the creation of a network that assisted in the delivery of products from the hinterland to the coasts in a relatively short amount of time and at reasonable prices. Here, illustrations and paintings link such growth to the centres and production sites of the coastal cities and their ports. The depiction of the Mediterranean coasts and hinterlands, and the functions of their ports, provide insight into the economic boom of this region and how the marine facilities, during certain periods, contributed to the development of a large-scale economy – thus, it was normal to include them in such media, owing to their popularity. The Mediterranean images investigated here depict a vast territory that underwent major infrastructural works, and indicate that coastal cities were ‘upgraded’ when such ‘monumental’ ports were built. Harbours, as seen in the images, were linked through a network of waterfronts, roads and waterways, and Mediterranean ports, intended as monumental structures and not as shelters or natural landing points, were then established as the economy finally grew. Here, the construction and ‘monumentalization’ of ports reflect the shift from an economy sustaining the needs of a local population to a global economy that provides more complex and larger-scale interactions. The visual arts express a growth that is interrelated with the considerable demographic boom in this area during Classical antiquity, the boosting of a network of coastal

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and small urban sites that made the Mediterranean an effective quasi-industrial area for advanced agriculture, maritime, large-scale manufacturing and seafaring activities, and the stretching of the ‘civilized’ world eastwards. The Mediterranean hosted some important marine centres and estates owned or managed by the main authority. This implies a direct and privileged connection between the ports and the markets of Alexandria, Athens, Leptis Magna, Ostia, Portus and Rome. The existence of these places would also have increased the chances of direct intervention from the emperors, kings, rulers and various elite in sponsoring port facilities and infrastructure that would facilitate the shipping of goods to major coastal centres. In this regard, the depiction presents an entire region that would have benefited from the opportunities attached to the shipping of major commodities. The sailors depicted here would have played a central role in trading and sailing across the mare nostrum. Moreover, the painting of movements that indicate how such harbours were central to the ancient economy can also be deduced from the form of the maritime structures. Elaborate representations of harbours, or at least those commercial functions, were provided with monumental quays, multiple moles and breakwaters that were suitable for the landing of large ships, to which they guaranteed shelter. In contrast, harbours were represented either by exploiting riverine-lagoon environments, as in the case of the Nile mosaic; by consolidating the sea fronts, as in the Antiquarium Comunale mosaic; by open harbours with a main quay and a mole, as in the Vega Baja mosaic; and in some cases by a secondary landing point, as in several paintings from Latium and Campania. These features support the suggestion that these port images functioned on a wider scale, in a context made up of people and societies familiar with long-distance trade that required fast connections, multiple loads on a regular basis and the presence of a circumscribed, but appreciable, number of ships. Furthermore, the export of these products, as likely here represented and noted, indicates the economic sustainability of shipping and ports by including elements of unloading and loading capacity and shiploads. The purposes of these images based on Mediterranean harbours and the establishment of exports also indirectly confirm that something ‘larger’, in terms of productivity, was happening across the hinterland and coastal and rural sites, and that other major productions, which are difficult to see and quantify in terms of scale, were also occurring. Apart from those expressly depicted, some other sources, including fish products, woollen items, clothes, timber, stone, lead, brick and tile were developed, albeit on a minor scale, thus raising questions about the types and quantities of items exported. In this case, one should also consider factors that were not properly depicted and are not known, e.g. human

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trafficking. From the images, it is clear that the Mediterranean was characterized by and provided with favourable communication channels, riverways and main roads which connected port sites and facilities, thereby assisting in the movement of goods, the storage, loading and unloading of materials, and, in administration, contracts and deals. Here, the illustration of infrastructure that linked ports to main roads and riverways further supports this point and the practicality of movements. The paintings that include narrow coastal and hinterland territories, medium-sized cities and riverine or open ports provided with a main quay that facilitated the speedy loading and shipping of products from the hinterland to ports and the markets highlight the form and size of the ports planned to respond to the capacity of society and the economy and to sustain the export of goods to the closest markets. Also, the size of Mediterranean coastal cities, and their populations, maritime dwellings and city arrangements, as also perceived from the images, justify that these served the needs of a mercantile class involved in large-scale regional commerce. Porticoes, warehouses, storage areas, dwellings and city buildings exemplify how port sites served combined purposes, for example residential, administrative and mercantile. The depiction of factors such as the ecology, environment, population, productivity and infrastructure demonstrate how the Mediterranean region, thanks to its ports, boosted society and the economy. Society, but more fully the economy, expanded primarily through ports, which were key nodes and played a pivotal role in the shipping of goods: their dense network of structures permitted connectivity, supplied markets and cities and served as ports of call for exchanges. The images demonstrate that Mediterranean connectivity was assisted by its geographical location as an interface with the inland territories and provinces that remained privileged markets. These sources also suggest that harbours and coastal areas of the region were not so disconnected from the rest of the global seaborne empires. Other factors, including distance and connectivity, could also have represented key elements that contributed to the progressive improvement of the repertoire of images of Mediterranean ports. There is no real terminus post quem for major representations of Mediterranean ports, even at the very end of the Roman period.12 The iconographic evidence does not indicate a decrease in the production of such a repertoire of scenes; in fact, harbours continue to evolve and progress, as is visible in the representations from the Late Antique period. Although archaeological evidence indicates a peak in cargo wrecks at the very beginning of the Imperial period and a progressive fall in the same beginning in the early second century ad, artists continue to depict the maritime world as a joyful environment.

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At the end of Classical antiquity, port structures were still represented. The expansion and collapse of frontiers, which made the transport of commodities via terrestrial routes increasingly difficult and expensive, favoured the continued use of the harbours, and their reception in visual art continued over time, and paradoxically evolved and extended beyond the Mediterranean as harbour representations were produced in other provinces. It is probable that the advent of major quantities of commodities made the buying of oils, cereals and wines from other Mediterranean regions a competitive and appealing prospect, and this intensified exchanges and contacts with alternative coastal hubs.13 Also, the later boom of other provinces, as evidenced by the arrival of commodities on a larger scale from the late Roman period onwards, is present in the visual evidence, and it indicates that the seamen continued to deal with several markets at a time when overland connections with other provinces probably began to diminish. The iconographic evidence for Mediterranean maritime structures indicates a period of life stretching from Classical antiquity and peaking during the early Roman age, thus indicating that these harbours experienced a phase not only of infrastructural and economic prosperity but also of being rendered in art. Similarly, the evidence from the maritime economy and world, the circulation of materials and the seafaring activities demonstrate how the apogee was reached during the Hellenistic and Roman eras and how, although the economic role of some Mediterranean cities diminished, this did not include the maritime world.

Notes Chapter 1 1 Ancient harbour studies have a long tradition. Major studies include the following: Lehmann-Hartleben (1923); Rougé (1966); Casson (1971); Blackman (1982a–b); Raban (1985); Rickman (1985); Reddé (1986); Goddio et al. (2000); Marriner and Morhange (2006); Keay et al. (2007); Goddio (2007); Hohlfelder (2008); Robinson and Wilson (2010); Brandon (2011); Robinson and Wilson (2011); Keay and Paroli (2011); Keay (2012a–b); Keay et al. (2012); Blackman and Rankov (2014); Oleson et al. (2014). 2 Casson (1971: 361–70); Rougé (1981: 169–75); Oleson et al. (2014). 3 Picard (1952: 61–95); Pensa (1997: 689–710); Lafon (2001). 4 Peters (1963); De Maria (1995: 521–45); Dall’Olio (1997: 197–8); Pensa (1997: 689–710); Sampaolo (1998). 5 Braudel (1972–1973); Horden and Purcell (2000); Abulafia (2003); Grove and Rackham (2003); Broodbank (2013). 6 Rickman (1985: 105–14); Harris (2001: 16–32); Erdkamp (2005: 34–51); Bowman and Wilson (2009). 7 Reddé (1986: 213–8). 8 Blackman (1982a–b); Rickman (1985); Goddio and Bernard (1998); Keay et al. (2005); Keay and Paroli (2011); Keay (2012a–b); Keay et al. (2012); Rice et al. (2012); Blackman and Rankov (2014). 9 See Alexandria: Goddio and Bernard (2008); Goddio and Fabre (2010). Caesarea Maritima: Raban (1985; 2009); Oleson (1989). Ostia and Portus: Lanciani (1865); Testaguzza (1970); Pavolini (1988); Keay et al. (2005); Keay and Paroli (2011); Keay (2012). Leptis Magna: Bartoccini (1958); Tuck (2008); Kenrick (2009); Musso et al. (2010). Ancona: Moretti (1945); Sebastiani (1996); Salvini (2001). Kenchreai: Scranton et al. (1976). 10 Pensa (1997: 689–92). 11 Pensa (1997: 690–1); Empereur (1998); Abulafia (2003); Giardina (2010: 23–5); Broodbank (2013). 12 Peters (1963); Westerdahl (1992: 5–14). 13 Cass. Dio; Cat.; Plin. HN; Plin. the Young. Ep.; Strab.; Suet. Aug.; Tac. Ann. 14 Scranton et al. (1976: 120–63). 15 Ling (1991: 142–3). 16 Meeyboom (1995); Dunbabin (1999).

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17 Peters (1963). 18 Ling (1991: 7–12). 19 Picard (1952: 61–95); Pensa (1997: 689–710). 20 Mirzoeff (1999); Hölscher (2004); Elsner (2006); Liverani (2007: 13–27); Squire (2009: 1–12). 21 Pensa (1999: 94–130). 22 Kolendo (1982: 305–11). 23 Lugli and Filibeck (1935); Calza (1940); Picard (1952; 1959); Becatti (1954; 1961); Gentili (1959). 24 See abbreviations. Picard (1952: 61–95); Peters (1963); Tabarroni (1976: 191–203); Ostrow (1979: 72–137); De Maria (1985: 521–45); Clarke (1996: 87–107); Dall’Olio (1997: 197–8); Pensa (1997: 689–710); Lawrence (1999: 289–96). 25 Wilson (1983); Ling (1991); Dunbabin (1999). 26 Clarke (1979); Ling (1991); Sampaolo (1998). 27 Gentili (1959; 1979: 49–56); Bollini (1980: 285–9); Maioli (1993: 23–32); Pensa (1997: 689–705; 1998: 113–24). 28 Bovini (1961: 67–86); Bollini (1980: 285–312; 1984: 61–3); Maioli (1984: 461–74; 1989: 335–43). 29 Especially peer-review journals, such as CARB, Felix Ravenna, Latomus, MÉFRA. 30 Bertacchi (1960: 8–32); Gianfrotta (2007: 7–36; 2011: 13–39). 31 Pensa (1999: 94–130). 32 Stucchi (1957: 149–64; 1960); Degrassi (1946: 167–83; 1955: 119–69; 1961: 139–150); Mazzarino (1979: 173–84; 1982: 21–54); Settis et al. (1988); Pensa (1997: 689–710; 1998: 113–58; 1999: 94–130); Coarelli (1999); Tuck (2008: 325–41). 33 Although these were studied only from a historical and topographic perspective; see Bovini (1961: 67–86); Ostrow (1979: 72–137); Bollini (1980: 285–312; 1984: 61–3); Maioli (1984: 461–74); Lepper and Frere (1988); Salvetti (1995: 383–94); Dell’Amico (1993: 95–105); Gianfrotta (2011: 13–39). 34 Pensa (1997: 689–710; 1998: 113–58; 2002: 167–222). 35 Peters (1969); Clarke (1979); Ling (1991); Sampaolo (1998). 36 Tuck (2008: 325–41); Cuyler (2014: 121–34). 37 PortusLimen (2014–2019); PhD dissertation by S. Mailleur (University of Southampton). 38 Pensa (1999: 94–9). 39 McInerney and Sluiter (2016). 40 Bartoccini (1958: 11–2); Goddio et al. (1998); Keay (2012b: 55–65). 41 Tuck (2008: 339–40); Cuyler (2014: 129–30). 42 As already noted in relation to Trajan’s Column; see Settis et al. (1988); Stefan (2015). 43 Bartoccini (1958: 11–2, 59); Testaguzza (1964: 173–9); Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 65–6).

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44 Pensa (1997: 689–90; 1998: 113–15). 45 Alpers (1983); Mirzoeff (1999). 46 Zanker (1988a: 1–22; 1997: 179–80); Elsner (1997); Liverani (2007: 13–15); Squire (2009: 1–12). 47 Thomas (2007). 48 Claridge (1993: 5–22); Zanker (1997: 179–92). 49 See abbreviations on BMC; PPM; RPGR. 50 Calza (1940); Becatti (1961); Dunbabin (1978); Settis et al. (1988); Salvetti (1995: 383–94). 51 Zanker (1997: 182–5); Ling (1998); Liverani (2007). 52 Peters (1963); Clarke (1979); De Maria (1985: 521–45); Ling (1991); Dall’Olio (1997: 197–8); Dunbabin (1998); Pensa (1999: 94–8); Tuck (2008: 325–9); Wolfram Thill (2012); Cuyler (2014: 121–5). 53 Such as for the case studies examined in this monograph, e.g. Mosaic of the Ships at Rimini; Mosaic from Vega Baja, Toledo; Mosaic of Oceanus at Bad Kreuznach. 54 Especially general studies by Peters (1963); Clarke (1979); Ling (1991); Wilson (1998); Dunbabin (1999); Elsner (2006); Squire (2009).

Chapter 2 1 The site of an Egyptian settlement thought to be Rhakotis. See Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 85–7). 2 Caes., BCiv. 3.111–12; Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 85). 3 Goddio et al. (1998: 14–16); Raban (2009); Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 86). 4 Millet and Goiran (2007: 167–76). 5 Strab. 17.1.6–7. 6 Josephus, JW 4.612–15. 7 Goddio et al. (1998: 14); Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 85–7). 8 Reddé (1986: 241–4). 9 Thiersch (1909: 52–5); Empereur (1998: 100–5); Giardina (2010: 59–63). Thiersch reports that the Arab traveller Edrisi calculated the height of the lighthouse as c. 166 m, and that this building was visible from a distance of c. 150 km; more recent works propose a height as low as c. 100 m, which could project light up to 60 km at night. 10 Poseippos, Epigram 115. ‘This tower that watches over Pharos or Proteus, Lord of these lands, was erected by Sostratus, Cnidus, son of Dexiphanes for the safety of the Greeks’. 11 Strab., 17.1.6–8. 12 Caes., BCiv 3.111–12. 13 Plin., HN 36.18.83.

184

Notes to pp. 17–23

14 Diod. HL 1.31.2–5. 15 Goddio et al. (1998: 16). 16 Strab., 17.1.9. 17 Goddio et al. (1998: 16); Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 85–6). 18 Goddio et al. (1988: 51). 19 Erdkamp (2005); Bowman and Wilson (2009); Harris (2011). 20 Goddio et al. (1998); Goddio (2007); Goddio and Fabre (2010); Goddio (2011); Oleson et al. (2014). 21 McKenzie (2003: 39); Brandon (2011: 124–5); Goddio (2011: 76–7). 22 Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 87); Vitr., Arch. 5.12.3–4. 23 McKenzie (2003: 39). 24 Oleson (2011: 15). 25 Meiggs (1973: 162–5); Bruun and Gallina Zevi (2002: 161–92); Keay et al. (2005). 26 Lanciani (1865); Lugli and Filibeck (1935); Rougé (1966); Testaguzza (1970); Casson (1971); Mannucci (1992); Rickman (1996: 281–91); Bruun and Gallina Zevi (2002); Keay et al. (2005); Keay (2010a: 11–22; 2010b: 18–21); Keay and Paroli (2011); Keay (2012a–b); Keay et al. (2012); Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014); Keay (2016: 294–307). 27 Goiran et al. (2011: 31–45); Morelli et al. (2011: 47–66). 28 Cass. Dio 60.11; Tac., Ann. 15.18.3; Suet., Claud. 20.1. 29 Cass. Dio 60.11.5. 30 Tac., Ann. 15.18.3. 31 Suet., Claud. 20.1; Cassius Dio 60.11.1–5. 32 Suet., Claud. 20; Suetonius writes that Portus’ lighthouse was altissimam turrem in exemplum Alexandrini Phari. 33 Keay et al. (2005); Keay and Paroli (2011); Keay (2012a–b); Hohlfelder and Brandon (2014: 55–7). 34 Keay (2012b: 44–52). 35 Goiran et al. (2011: 31–9). 36 Lanciani (1865); Calza (1925: 54–80); Lugli and Filibeck (1935: 8–14); Testaguzza (1964: 173–80); Pavolini (1988); Paroli (2005: 43–59). 37 Testaguzza (1970: 171–3); Meiggs (1973: 162–4); Mannucci (1992); Keay et al. (2005). 38 Morelli et al. (2011: 47–66). 39 Keay et al. (2005); Goiran et al. (2011: 31–5). 40 Bruun and Gallina Zevi (2002: 161–92). 41 Keay (2010a–b; 2012a–b); Keay et al. (2012); Keay (2016). 42 Keay et al. (2005); Keay and Paroli (2011); Oleson et al. (2014). 43 Brandt (2005: 25–47). 44 Keay and Paroli (2011). 45 Rickman (1980); Keay (2010a–b); Keay et al. (2012).

Notes to pp. 23–29

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46 De Salvo (1992); Bowman and Wilson (2009); Broekaert (2013); Temin (2013); Tchernia (2016). 47 Keay et al. (2005); Loreti (2006: 223–30). 48 Sallust., Bell. Iug. 78.1; Sil. It. 3.256; Plin., HN 5.76. 49 Carter (1965: 123–32); Kenrick (2009: 89–93). 50 Mattingly (1995: 116–22). 51 Kenrick (2009: 90–2); Musso et al. (2010: 49–53). 52 Mattingly (1995: 116–22); Kenrick (2009: 88–130); Beltrame (2012: 315–9). 53 PortusLimen (2014–2019). 54 De Miro and Polito (2005: 109–14). 55 Kenrick (2009: 109–14). 56 Kenrick (2009: 98–133). 57 Ward-Perkins (1993). 58 Excavations and field surveys have been conducted at the harbour of Leptis Magna since the 1950s; see Romanelli (1925); Bartoccini (1958; 1961: 231–41; 1962: 228–43); Laronde (1988: 337–53; 1994: 991–8); Laronde and Degeorge (2005); Kenrick (2009: 126–9); Musso et al. (2010: 49–78); Beltrame (2012: 315–26); Schörle and Leitch (2012: 149–54). 59 Bartoccini (1961: 231–41). 60 Beltrame (2012: 315–20). 61 Bartoccini (1961: 231–41); Kenrick (2009: 126–9); Musso et al. (2010: 49–78); Beltrame (2012: 315–26). 62 Bartoccini (1958); Goddio et al. (1998); Beltrame (2012); Keay (2012). 63 Oleson et al. (2014). 64 See Plin. HN; Suet. Aug.; Tac. Ann. 65 Goddio et al. (1998); Goddio and Fabre (2010); Goddio (2011). 66 Keay et al. (2005); Rice et al. (2012: 367–9); Schörle and Leitch (2012: 149–54); Oleson et al. (2014); Arnaud (2016: 117–74). 67 Dunbabin (1978); Clarke (1979); Ling (1991). 68 Purcell (1996: 267–80); Keay (2012: 33–67); Keay et al. (2012: 486–512). 69 Marriner and Morhange (2006: 137–94); Oleson et al. (2014). 70 See major and minor harbours and hubs investigated by the PortusLimen and ROMACONS projects; see Keay (2012a); Oleson et al. (2014); PortusLimen (2014–2019). 71 Marriner and Morhange (2006: 137–45); Raban (2009); Oleson et al. (2014). 72 Blackman (1982a: 79–94; 1982b: 185–205); Oleson et al. (2014). 73 This includes key structures such as the Grandi Magazzini, Heptastadion, Palazzo Imperiale and Pharos. See Keay (2012b: 33–67). 74 Pensa (1999: 94–9); Ugolini (2017: 126–32). 75 Purcell (1996: 267–80).

186

Notes to pp. 29–36

76 Thiersch (1909); Reddé (1995: 60–5); Giardina (2010: 57–62, 102–4). 77 Strab. 17.1.8. 78 Plin. HN, 36.18.83; Tuck (2008: 325–41). 79 Blackman (1982a: 79–95; 1982b: 185–195); Keay (2012b: 54–6). 80 Tuck (2008: 325–41). 81 Morley (1996); Tuck (1997); Noreña (2011: 231–2). 82 Thomas (2007); Oleson and Hohlfelder (2011: 809–33). 83 Peters (1963); Prontera (1985: 137–8); Ling (1991); Dunbabin (1999). 84 Noreña (2011: 231–2). 85 Purcell (1996: 267–80); Ugolini (2017: 149–50). 86 Noreña (2011: 231). 87 Tosi (2003); Swain et al. (2007); Schneider (2015: 21–51). 88 McCormick (2001); Hobson (2015). 89 Laurence and Wallace-Hadrill (1997); Wilson (2011b: 33–55). 90 Keay (2012a–b). 91 Keay (2010a: 11–22); Keay (2010b): 18–21. 92 Zanker (1988a: 3–11). 93 Wallace-Hadrill (1997: 219–40). 94 Wallace-Hadrill (1994: 45–66); De Franceschini (1998); Marzano (2007). 95 De Salvo (1992: 42); Liu (2009: 230–45); Broekaert (2013: 13). 96 Giacomini (1990: 321–62). 97 De Salvo (1992: 42, 139, 434). 98 De Salvo (1992: 42); Broekaert (2013: 13–15). 99 Brusin (1934: 21–2). 100 Marzano (2007: 649–707). 101 Plin. the Younger; Sil. It.; Suet.; Tac. 102 Turcan Deleani (1958: 149–76); Purcell (1996: 267–80); Boetto (2010: 112–28). 103 Pensa (1997: 689–705). 104 Reddé (1979: 845–72); Pensa (1997: 689–710). 105 Wolfram Thill (2012: 67–72). 106 When compared with patterns from the wider pan-Mediterranean world, these images also reveal the aspirations of patrons and rulers; see Zanker (1997: 179); Wolfram Thill (2012: 67–72). 107 Mikocki (1990: 118); Liverani (2007: 14); Wolfram Thill (2012: 71–5). 108 Pekáry (1999); Thomas (2007); Lusnia (2012). 109 Burnett (1999: 138); Cuyler (2014: 129). 110 Zanker (1997: 179–80); Burnett (1999: 137–40). 111 Torelli (1982); Prontera (1985: 137–8); Sampaolo (1988); Dall’Olio (1997: 197); Dunbabin (1999); Pensa (1999: 94–7); Cuyler (2014: 121–3). 112 Maggi (1990: 63–76); Wolfram Thill (2012).

Notes to pp. 37–43

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113 Blake (1936: 67–214); Becatti (1961); Clarke (1979); Sampaolo (1998). 114 Ling (1991: 142–5); Ojeda (2017: 85–92). 115 Pensa (1997: 689–93); Davies (2000); De Angelis (2014: 89–114). 116 Koch and Sichtermann (1982); Davies (2000). 117 Pensa (1997: 691–4; 1998: 115–24). 118 Peters (1963). 119 Blake (1930); Ling (1991); Dunbabin (1999). 120 Meyboom (1995: 16–9); Burkhalter (1999: 229–56); Dunbabin (1999: 50–1); Salari (2012: 349–57). 121 Pieralisi (1858); Gullini (1956: 20–25); Meyboom (1995: 202–17); Versluys (2002). 122 Pieralisi (1858); Gullini (1956: 20–32); Steinmeyer-Schareika (1978: 52–97); Dunbabin (1999: 50–1). 123 Riemann (1986: 357–404); Krumme (1990: 155–65); Ling (1991: 142–9). 124 Kriseleit (1985: 38–40); Forni Montagna (1991: 227–83); Panaydes (1994: 31–47); Salari (2012: 349–53). 125 Coarelli suggests that these structures were naval buildings belonging to the private harbour of Ptolemy, and that this representation includes details of the great harbour of Alexandria. According to Coarelli, who reads the scene topographically, the lighthouse is missing because it had not yet been built at the time of the pompé of Ptolemy Philadelphus, and that this mosaic refers to the original harbour setting. Pensa, however, argues that it is not a navalia because of the disproportion in the size of the larger ships and the structures close to the ‘ship-sheds’; see Coarelli (1990: 225–51); Pensa (1999: 126); Blackman and Rankov (2014: 39). 126 Ling (1991: 145); Dunbabin (1999: 50). 127 Dunbabin (1999: 50–2). 128 Bernhard (1956: 129–38); Coarelli (1990: 225–51); Meyboom (1995: 85–94); Dunbabin (1999: 51). 129 Clarke (1996: 91–3; 105); Pensa (1999: 100–1; 124). 130 Barbet (1985: 60); Clarke (1996: 89). 131 Clarke (1991: 122–3, 287). 132 Clarke (1991: 122–3). 133 Especially at Ostia; see Clarke (1991: 287); Clarke (1996: 92). 134 Gullini (1956: 28–32); Dunbabin (1978: 195–215); Pensa (1997: 689–95). 135 Clarke (1991; 1996: 92–3). 136 Clarke (1996: 93); see also Gullini (1956: 29–30); Peters (1963); Clarke (1979); Meyboom (1995: 85–9). 137 Murray (2011); Blackman and Rankov (2014: 39–40). 138 Basch (1979: 291–4); Blackman (1987: 35–52); Bragantini and Sampaolo (2009: 196–7). 139 Blackman and Rankov (2014: 39–40).

188

Notes to pp. 44–58

140 Blackman and Rankov (2014: 40). 141 Coarelli (1968: 28); Reddé (1986: 162); Blackman and Rankov (2014: 28); see also Tucci (2012: 575–91). 142 Bragantini and Sampaolo (2009: 197); Murray (2011). 143 Ling (1991: 145–7). 144 Peters (1963); Pensa (1999: 215–17). 145 A fresco from the Tempio of Isis, in Pompeii, depicts a huge semicircular harbour basin, round in shape like that at the Oplontis villa, with an arched mole and colonnade porticoes; see RPGR 383.2; Pensa (1999: 102). 146 Ling (1977: 1–16; 1991: 147); Ling states that harbourscapes were one of the favoured subjects of Studius. 147 RPGR (308.2 = PPM Regio VI, Insula 8, 23–4, n. 37). 148 Picard (1952: 61–74); Peters (1963: 172). 149 Peters (1963: 172–3); Pensa (1999: 100–2). 150 Thiersch (1909); Lehmann-Hartleben (1923); Peters (1963). 151 Picard (1959: 23–51); Ling (1991: 145–8). 152 PPM (Vol. 4, Regio VI, Insula 8, 23–4, fig. 37, 644–5). 153 See also MAN 9410; 9414. 154 Pensa (1999: 94–105). 155 Clarke (1996: 87–107); Pensa (1999: 94–130). 156 Sanpaolo (1988: 257); Dall’Olio (1997: 197–8). 157 Peters (1963); Lafon (2001). 158 Lehmann-Hartleben (1923). 159 Picard (1959: 23–45); Peters (1963). 160 Kolendo (1982: 305–11). 161 Dall’Olio (1989: 513–31). 162 Sampaolo (1998). 163 Pensa (1998: 113–41). 164 Peters (1963: 159).

Chapter 3 1 Mikocki (1990: 118); Liverani (2007: 13–27). 2 Although in Athens almost nothing survives to illuminate the use of harbourscapes as a theme for symbolic representations during Classical antiquity, a few exceptions can be forwarded as initial attempts to depict various structures; see Picard (1952: 61–95); Balil (1962: 116–7); Joly (1968: 45–54); Deneauve (1969); Handler (1971: 51–74); Williams (1973: 109); Bailey (1984: 265–72); Hellmann (1985); Raban (1985); Ling (1991); Giardina (2010).

Notes to pp. 58–67

189

3 Bellori (1673), Fragmentae Vestigii Veteris; Bartoli (1764), Ichnographia Veteris Romae; Winckelmann (1767), Monumenti antichi inediti; Canina (1830–40), Architettura antica, sez. III, L’architettura romana; RPGR 379.1, 395.3–11; Hülsen (1896: 213–26); Dubois (1907); Picard (1959); Painter (1975: 54–67); Ostrow (1977: 124–32; 1979: 87–9); Pensa (1999: 96–7). 4 Hülsen (1896: 213–26); Ostrow (1979: 88). 5 Hülsen (1896: 216–17). 6 For instance, Bal(inevm) Favstines, but also Forvus Olitorvius, that Ostrow relates as terminus post quem and characteristics of late Latin; see Hülsen (1896: 219); Dubois (1907: 204); Ostrow (1979: 136–7). 7 Ostrow (1979: 137). 8 Hülsen (1896: 220–4); Dubois (1907: 201–19). 9 Hülsen (1896: 213–26). 10 Studniczka (1894: 701). 11 Dubois (1907: 205); Ostrow (1979: 131). 12 D’Arms (1970: 81–2). 13 D’Arms (1970: 82–3); Rickman (1980: 67–80). 14 Ostrow (1979: 93). 15 Ostrow (1977: 124–32); Belz (1978: 27); Ostrow (1979: 72–137); Sommella (1980; 1996: 455). 16 Picard (1959: 27–46); Ostrow (1977: 51–149); Dall’Olio (1995: 196–8). 17 Ostrow (1979: 95); Pensa (1999: 124–7). 18 De Maria (1988); Pensa (1998: 124–36). 19 De Maria (1988). 20 Dubois (1907: 198); Picard (1959: 23–51). 21 Ostrow (1979: 120–1). 22 Dubois (1907: 198); Pensa (1997: 689–95). 23 Bellori (1673). 24 Pensa (1999: 123). 25 De Maria (1988: 31–3, 42–3, 257–9). 26 Gasparri (1984: 672–6); RPGR (274.4). 27 Aurigemma (1960: 87); Belz (1978: 168). 28 Aurigemma (1960: 87); Belz (1978: 168–9). 29 Dunbabin (1978). 30 Pensa (1999: 110). 31 Dunbabin (1978). 32 Tuck (2008: 325–41). 33 See Chapter 4. 34 See Chapter 2. 35 Scranton et al. (1976: 59); see pictorial panels at Kenchreai (Greece).

190

Notes to pp. 67–75

36 These are also visible in both the early and later Classical and early Christian paintings as in the floor mosaics at Gerasa and Madaba; see Piccirillo (1989; 1991). 37 Tabarroni (1976: 191–203). 38 Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 65–6); Deneauve (1969); Scranton et al. (1976); Clarke (1996). 39 Testaguzza (1970: 171). 40 Fasciato (1947: 66–74); Tuck (2008: 328–35); Feuser (2014: 696); Ugolini (2020a). 41 Ojeda (2017: 85–92). 42 Becatti (1961). 43 Becatti (1961); Testaguzza (1970: 171–2); Tuck (2008: 330–5). 44 Reddé (1979: 845–72); Salvetti (1995: 383–94); Cuyler (2014: 121–34). 45 Poulsen (1951: 558–9, no. 787, pl. 67); Bachofen and Meuli (1958: 46); Casson (1959: 219–22); Lawrence (1962: 289–90). 46 Gauckler (1905: 113–54); Duval (1949: 119–49); Dunbabin (1978: 127, 136, 153, 248); Radaelli (2014: 105–14). 47 La Rocca et al. (2000). 48 Thiersch (1909); Lawrence (1999: 289–91). 49 Testaguzza (1970: 171); Giardina (2010); Feuser (2014: 25–30); Ojeda (2017: 87). 50 Picard (1952: 61–95); Tabarroni (1976: 191–203); Giardina (2010: 24–77); Delacroix (2013: 223–31). 51 Pensa (1997: 689–701; 1999: 99–121); Lawrence (1999: 289–91). 52 Becatti (1960: 41); De Maria (1988: 92); Maggi (1990: 63–76); Palombi (1993: 321–2); Tuck (1997); Ojeda (2017: 86–7). 53 Zanker (1988a: 1–22); Ling (1991); Clarke (1996: 87–107). 54 Joly (1963); Dunbabin (1999). 55 Mikocki (1990). 56 Peters (1963). 57 The most notable examples are in mosaics from Ostia and from a series of Mediterranean mosaics and frescoes; see Becatti (1960); Dunbabin (1999); Tuck (2008: 325–41); Giardina (2010); Delacroix (2013: 223–31); Ugolini (2020a). 58 Reddé (1979: 845–72). 59 Tuck (2008: 326). 60 Suet. Tib. 74.4–6, Et ante paucos obiret dies, turris phari terrae motu Capreis concidit; see Tuck (2008: 325–30). 61 Tuck (2008: 326). 62 Oleson et al. (2014). 63 Tuck (1997); Keay et al. (2005); Cuyler (2014: 121–34). 64 Blackman (1982a–b); Rickman (1985: 105–14); Horden and Purcell (2000); Keay (2012a); Oleson et al. (2014).

Notes to pp. 75–82

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65 Keay (2012a–b); Oleson et al. (2014). 66 Zanker (1988a-b; 1990); Pensa (1997: 689–710; 1999: 94–130); Ando (2000); Thomas (2007). 67 Arnaud (2007: 321–6; 2016: 117–74); Scheidel (2009: 46–70; 2014: 7–32). 68 Rougé (1966: 114–8); Casson (1971: 367–9); Meiggs (1973); Pensa (1999: 94–9). 69 Zanker (1997: 179–92). 70 Suet., Claud. 20.3; Giardina (2010). 71 Cass. Dio 60.11.4; Juv. 12.75–78; Meiggs (1973: 154–6); Tuck (2008: 327). 72 Cass. Dio 60.33. 73 Plin. the Younger, Ep. 2.11.25. 74 Reddé (1979: 845–72); Pensa (1999: 99–121). 75 Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 65–6); Testaguzza (1970: 171); Ojeda (2017: 85–7). 76 Toynbee (1951); Versluys (2002). 77 Dunbabin (1978); Versluys (2002). 78 Tuck (2008: 329). 79 Ando (2000); Thomas (2007); Stefan (2005; 2015). 80 Cass. 68.17.3. 81 As also seen on a coin of the consulship in AD 73; see Suet., Dom. 2 and 6; Meiggs (1973); Burnett (1999: 137–64); Tuck (2008). 82 Kleiner (1985); Hallett (2005); Tuck (2008); Ojeda (2017). 83 Tuck (1997); Dunbabin (1999). 84 Klöckner (1997); Keay et al. (2005). 85 Testaguzza (1970: 171–3). 86 Casson (1971); Meiggs (1973). 87 Dunbabin (1997). 88 Abaecherly Boyce (1966: 65–6); Tuck (2008: 325–30); Cuyler (2014: 121–9). 89 Tuck (2008: 325–41). 90 Bartoccini (1958); D’Arms (1970: 84). 91 D’Arms (1970: 84); Tuck (2008: 335). 92 Bartoccini (1958); Speidel (1978); Kenrick (2009); the altar of the temple includes an inscription with a dedication to the harbour complex. It dates to the early third century AD. 93 Zanker (1988a-b); Maggi (1990: 63–76); Palombi (1993: 321–32); Zanker (1997: 179–92). 94 Meiggs (1973: 386); Maderna (1988); Zanker (1988a-b). 95 Noreña (2011). 96 Zanker (1997: 179–92). 97 Reddé (1995: 60–5); Schneider (2015: 21–51). 98 Prontera (1985: 137–8); Sampaolo (1998).

192

Notes to pp. 86–93

Chapter 4 1 2 3 4

Cass. Dio 60.11.1–5. Casson (1971); McGrail (2001). Arnaud (2007); Keay (2010); Scheidel (2014: 7–32). Casson (1959; 1971); McGrail (2001; 2008: 606–37); Boetto (2006); see also Radaelli (2014: 105–14) on the Althiburos mosaic. 5 Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 65–6). 6 Scheidel (2009: 46–70; 2011: 21–37). 7 RIC 390; Cuyler (2014). 8 Cuyler (2014: 122). 9 Abaecherly Boyce (1966: 65–6). 10 Burnett (1999: 138–52). 11 Abaecherly Boyce (1958: 64); Meiggs (1973: 55); Cuyler (2014: 129). 12 Keay et al. (2005: 269–96); Keay and Paroli (2011); Morelli et al. (2011: 47–65); Keay et al. (2012: 486–512). 13 Lugli and Filibeck (1935: 11–9); Felici and Balderi (1997: 11–6); Cuyler (2014: 127–9). 14 Thomas (2007); Cuyler (2014: 123–8). 15 De Angelis (2014: 89–114). 16 Settis et al. (1988); Stefan (2015). 17 Lepper and Frere (1988); Settis et al. (1988); Claridge (1993); Stefan (2005). 18 The vast bibliography includes Froenher (1865); Cichorius (1900); Petersen (1905); Domaszewski (1906); Stuart Jones (1910); Patsch (1937); Degrassi (1946); Stucchi (1957); Turcan Deleani (1958); Degrassi (1961); Stucchi (1961; 1965); Rossi (1971); Gauer (1977); Mazzarino (1979); Reddé (1979); Mazzarino (1982); Strobel (1984); Lepper and Frere (1988); Settis et al. (1988); Claridge (1993); Pensa (1997); Coarelli (1999); Alfieri (2000); Ceraudo (2003); Stefan (2005); Reddé and Golvin (2008); Giardina (2010); Wolfram Thill (2012); Blackman and Rankov (2014); De Angelis (2014); Capriotti (2015); Stefan (2015); Ugolini (2019). 19 Reddé (1986; 2001: 43–54); Claridge (1993); Coarelli (1999); Blackman and Rankov (2014). 20 Stefan (2015). 21 Cichorius (1900); Degrassi (1946; 1955); Stucchi (1960; 1961; 1965); Rossi (1971); Gauer (1977); Reddé (1985); Lepper and Frere (1988); Settis et al. (1988); Reddé and Golvin (2008). 22 Lepper and Frere (1988); see theories on the ‘Long’ and ‘Short’ route. 23 Settis et al. (1988). 24 Claridge (1993: 5–22); Coarelli (1999: 137). 25 Starr (1941); Stefan (2005).

Notes to pp. 93–96

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26 Alfieri (1987: 690); Coarelli (1999: 138–40). 27 Stucchi (1957: 149); Alfieri (1987: 689–90). 28 Coarelli (1999: 141). 29 Degrassi (1946: 167–83; 1955: 119–69); Stucchi (1957: 149–64); Degrassi (1961: 139–50); Rossi (1971). 30 Giardina (2010: 92). 31 Lepper and Frere (1988); Settis et al. (1988). 32 Settis et al. (1988). 33 Catull. 4.6; Juv., Sat. 4. 34 Sebastiani (1996); Alfieri (2000); Salvini (2001; 2009: 531–60); Capriotti (2015: 351–72). 35 Settis et al. (1988); Coarelli (1999: 138). 36 Reddé and Golvin (1988); Coarelli (1999: 138). 37 Coarelli (1999: 137–49). 38 Coarelli (1999: 137–49). 39 Reddé (1979: 845–72). 40 Reddé and Golvin (2008: 59–60). 41 Caes, BCiv. 3.25–8: Caesar, for example, records that Antony, travelling along the coast from Brindisi, was unable to meet him on the other side of the Adriatic because of the inclement weather; see also Settis et al. (1988); Coarelli (1999: 137–49); Capriotti (2015: 351–72). 42 Lehmann-Hatlerben (1926: 231); Stucchi (1961: 91–5); Bedon (1988: 57); Franzot (1999: 53). 43 Alfieri (1938: 42); Luni (1984: 127); Claridge (1993: 20); Alfieri (2000: 228–38). 44 Sebastiani (1996: 34–6). 45 Sebastiani (1996: 35). 46 Moretti (1945: 40–5); Stucchi (1965: 142–70). 47 CIL IX, 5894; Sebastiani (1996: 35–6). 48 Moretti (1945: 42). 49 Sebastiani (1996: 35–6). 50 Sebastiani (1996: 32): the discovery of these fragments, which have been attributed to the bronze statues of the arch, are also recorded in a commemorative inscription, which dates to 1680, and is still present at Palazzo Anziani (Ancona). 51 Alfieri (1990: 51–5); Sebastiani (1996: 35–9). 52 Alfieri (1990: 52); Alfieri (2000: 228–35). 53 Alfieri (1987: 690); Claridge (1993: 20–1). 54 Sebastiani (1996: 32). 55 Reddé and Golvin (2008: 59); Blackman and Rankov (2014: 85–8). 56 Alfieri (2000: 228–33). 57 Alfieri (2000: 228–33).

194

Notes to pp. 97–106

58 Stucchi (1961: 91–5); Gauer (1977); Lepper and Frere (1988: 49); Settis et al. (1988: 395–8). 59 Settis et al. (1988); Coarelli (1999: 165). 60 Stucchi (1957: 149–64; 1960; 1961: 91–5); Degrassi (1961: 139–50). 61 Rossi (1971). 62 Settis et al. (1988: 395–8). 63 Froehner (1865); Cichorius (1900); Domaszewski (1906); Gauer (1977). 64 Lepper (1945: 49). 65 Cichorius (1900); Degrassi (1961: 140); Stucchi (1960; 1961: 91–5; 1965: 45). 66 Coarelli (1999: 137). 67 Reddé (1986; 2001: 43–54); Reddé and Golvin (2008). 68 Blackman and Rankov (2014: 85–90). 69 As is attested by historical and epigraphic evidence, see the Portus and Ancona inscriptions; Ceraudo (2003: 152); Keay et al. (2005); Stefan (2005); Salvini (2000; 2009: 531–60); Capriotti (2015: 351–72); Stefan (2015); CIL IX, 5894 (Ancona); CIL XIV, 85 (Portus). 70 Blackman (1982a–b); Keay et al. (2005); Blackman (2008: 638–70); Keay (2012a–b); Blackman and Rankov (2014). 71 Blackman and Rankov (2014: 84–5). 72 Blackman (2008: 638–70); Blackman and Rankov (2014: 85). 73 Carey (2003: 90–3); Naas (2011: 57–70). 74 D’Arms (1960: 84). 75 Reynolds and Ward-Perkins (1952: 292); Speidel (1978: 66); Maderna (1988). 76 Brilliant (1967); Swain et al. (2007); Lusnia (2012). 77 Bartoccini (1958: 47–8); Tuck (2008: 335). 78 Speidel (1978: 66); Tuck (2008: 337). 79 Cafarelli and Caputo (1966). 80 Speidel (1978); Romero Recio (2000); Kennerley (2007: 422–5). 81 Thomas (2007). 82 Beltrame (2000). 83 Giardina (2010). 84 Lepper and Frere (1988); Stefan (2005). 85 Hölscher (2004); Elsner (2006); Lefebvre (2006: 85–115). 86 Ling (1991); Lefebvre (2006: 85–110); Tuck (2008: 335–37); Noreña (2011); Ojeda (2017: 85–9). 87 Starr (1941); Giacomini (1990: 321–62); Reddé (2001: 45–54). 88 De Souza (2008: 71–96). 89 Horden and Purcell (2000); Broodbank (2013). 90 Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 65–6); Cuyler (2014: 121–34).

Notes to pp. 107–115

195

91 De Souza (2008: 71–96). 92 Pensa (1999: 94–100). 93 Liverani (2007: 20); De Angelis (2014: 89–106). 94 Lepper (1948); Lepper and Frere (1988). 95 Horden and Purcell (2000); Morley (2007: 570–91); Rice et al. (2012: 367–92); Scheidel (2014: 7–32); Arnaud (2016: 117–74); Kowalzig (2018: 118–19).

Chapter 5 1 Bowman and Wilson (2009); Temin (2013); Tchernia (2016). 2 Morley (1996); Bowman and Wilson (2009); Tchernia (2016). 3 Pensa (1998: 113–58; 1999: 94–108); Ugolini (2015: 4–11; 2017: 261–88). 4 Maioli (1984: 461–3; 1993: 23–5); Wallace-Hadrill (1994; 1997: 219–20); Ugolini (2017: 276–7). 5 Bollini (1980: 286); Scagliarini (1983: 296); Maioli (1984: 461–4). 6 Gentili (1979: 50–1); Bollini (1984: 61–3); Maioli (1984: 461–74); Maioli (1993: 23–5); Salvetti (1995: 383–4); Dell’Amico (1995: 95–105); Ugolini (2015: 4–11); Montemaggi and Piolanti (2016: 61–6); Ugolini (2020b). 7 Maioli (1984: 461–74; 1993: 23–5). 8 The identification of this harbour structure is still being debated. See Gentili (1979: 49–52); Bollini (1984: 465–8); Ugolini (2015: 9; 2020b). 9 Casson (1961: 156–61); Dell’Amico (1993: 96); McGrail (2001: 156). 10 Bollini (1984: 61). 11 Gentili (1979: 53–4); Bollini (1984: 460); Maioli (1984: 462). 12 Balmelle et al. (2002: 164). 13 Balmelle et al. (2002: 170). 14 Balmelle et al. (1985: 79, 120). 15 This hypothesis is quite different from that of those scholars who focused on the artistic and topographic details of the mosaic; see Gentili (1979: 49); Bollini (1980: 291); Maioli (1984: 461); Bollini (1984: 61). 16 Maioli (1993: 25–6); Corti (2012a: 20). 17 Corti (2012a: 21). 18 Ugolini (2015: 6–7). 19 Corti (2012a: 22–3). 20 Corti (2012a: 25; 2012b: 213–29). 21 Ugolini (2015: 4–11). 22 Stoppioni (1993: 409). 23 Dunbabin (1999: 62–4).

196

Notes to pp. 115–119

24 Dunbabin (1978), Piazza Armerina: 196–212, 76–8; Zliten (Libya): 66, 145ff; El Djem (Tunisia): 8–11, figs. 68 and 72; Oudna (Tunisia): 51ff, pl. 53, fig. 134; see also 230–1 (connection between animal paradise and a hunt). 25 Avni et al. (2015). 26 Friedman (2011: 164–7). 27 For instance, the Nile mosaic at Palestrina, see Chapter 2; Versluys (2002). 28 Plin., HN 8.41; 10.40–5; Ugolini (2015: 4–11). 29 Ugolini (2020b). 30 Casson (1971: 361–70); Gentili (1979: 50–2); Rougé (1981: 169–72); Maioli (1984: 62; 1989: 335); Salvetti (1995: 383–4; 2002: 67–9). 31 Friedman (2011: 74). 32 Gentili (1979: 50). 33 Salvetti (1995: 391). 34 Gentili (1979: 50–2); Tuck (2008: 326–8); Delacroix (2013: 228). 35 Bovini (1961: 67–70); Maioli (1989: 335). 36 Becatti (1960); Dunbabin (1999). 37 Bollini (1980: 292); Salvetti (1995: 391). 38 Sen., Ep. 9.77.1–2. 39 Gentili (1979: 50); Bollini (1984: 61). 40 Maioli (1984: 645). 41 Blackman (2008: 648). 42 Blackman (2008: 638–70); Oleson et al. (2014). 43 CIL XIV, 409; CIL VI, 9682; Tchernia (1986: 259). 44 CIL VI, 1101; Panella (1989: 151–5). 45 Testaguzza (1970: 171). 46 Braccesi (2007: 137–45); Ravara Montebelli (2007: 87). 47 Ugolini (2015: 4–11; 2020b). 48 Maioli (1984: 468); Ortalli (1992: 557–60). 49 At Rimini, the mosaics, such as those representing Winged Victory at Palazzo Gioia, the so-called ‘Mosaic of Orpheus’ at domus Chirurgo, and that of an Anubis’ shepherd at domus Fratelli Bandiera, all from the period between the early second and the third century ad, embellished the domestic or commercial spaces, conferring an air of opulence and exoticism; see Fontemaggi and Piolanti (2016: 61–5). 50 Calza (1940); Becatti (1961: 64). 51 Pavolini (1988); Dunbabin (1999: 62). 52 Becatti (1961); Dunbabin (1999). 53 Becatti (1954: 47–51); Pohl (1978: 331–4); Keay (2010a: 11–22); Terpstra (2014: 119–30). 54 Ling (1998: 45).

Notes to pp. 119–130

197

55 Becatti (1961); Dunbabin (1999: 62). 56 See Ostia I, XIV, 2; Becatti (1961); Pavolini (1983); Dunbabin (1999). 57 Dunbabin (1999). 58 Bailey (1984: 265–9); Dunbabin (1999). 59 Calza (1940); Becatti (1961); Klöckner (1997). 60 Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 65–6). 61 Pensa (1998: 113–26); Blackman (2008: 638–45); Giardina (2010: 28–34). 62 Tabarroni (1976: 191–203); Reddé (1979: 845–72). 63 Becatti (1961); Belz (1978). 64 Suet., Claud. 20: altissimam turrem in exemplum Alexandrini Phari. 65 Tuck (2008: 329); Cuyler (2014: 127). 66 Blàzquez (1982: 33–6); Pekáry (1999). 67 Pensa (1999: 111). 68 Balil (1984: 433–9). 69 Domínguez and Neira Jiménez (2014: 2012–4). 70 Domínguez and Neira Jiménez (1997: 219–51); Pensa (1999: 111). 71 Balil (1984: 435). 72 Blázquez (1982, no. 25); Balil (1984: 343–9); Domínguez and Neira Jiménez (1997: 242–9). 73 Balil (1984: 433–9). 74 Pensa (1999: 111). 75 García Morcillo (2005: 202–4); Holleran (2012: 67–8). 76 Ehmig (2005: 175–91); Velo-Gala and Garriguet Mata (2017: 169). 77 García Morcillo (2005: 202–4); Velo-Gala and Garriguet Mata (2017: 159–76). 78 García Morcillo (2005: 202–4); Holleran (2012: 67–8). 79 Ehming (2005: 175–91); Velo-Gala and Garriguet Mata (2017: 159–76). 80 García Morcillo (2005: 202–4); the mosaic also features two small inscriptions – the first is on the right of the harbour structures above the basin and shows the lettering Victorinus tess(ellarius) fec(it), that is ‘Victorinus, mosaicist, made this’; in the border of the upper section there is the name of a consul as follow Maximo et U[rbano Co(n)s(ulibus) - - -], that places the consular date to ad 234. 81 Salvetti (1995: 383); Salvetti (2002: 67–88). 82 Stuart Jones (1926: 269). 83 The mosaic was found in 1878 and the identification is associated to the finding of a lead pipe bearing the same name; see CIL XV, 7450; Stuart Jones (1926: 269–70); Salvetti (1995: 383–94); Salvetti (2002: 67–88). 84 Stuart Jones (1926: 269–70); Andreae (1963); Pekáry (1999). 85 Thiersch (1909: 7–10); Picard (1952: 61–90); Quet (1984: 789–98); Giardina (2010: 57–62). 86 Gentili (1979: 49–56); Salvetti (1995: 383); Ugolini (2015: 8).

198

Notes to pp. 130–138

87 Reddé (1979: 866). 88 Stuart Jones (1926: 269). 89 Gentili (1959); Debergh (1975: 212–9); Dunbabin (1978); Wilson (1983); Ling (1998); Dunbabin (1999). 90 Carucci (2007). 91 Dunbabin (1999: 129–31); Pensa (1999: 109–12). 92 Gasparri (1984: 672–6); Pensa (1999: 110). 93 Bonacasa et al. (1984, tav. 133, 5); Pensa (1999: 109). 94 Gentili (1976: 49); Maioli (1989: 338); Pensa (1998; 1999); Ugolini (2020a). 95 Bovini (1970: 73). 96 Picard (1952: 61–5); Peters (1963); Scranton et al. (1976); Ling (1991); Clarke (1996: 87–95); Pensa (1998: 113–26); Dunbabin (1999). 97 Pensa (1999: 108–14). 98 Purcell (1996: 267–72); Ugolini (2017: 157–8). 99 Bovini (1951: 57); Bovini (1966: 83). 100 Maioli (1989: 334). 101 Giardina (2010: 32–3); Delacroix (2013: 228–30); Ugolini (2015: 4–9). 102 Ugolini (2020a). 103 Rougé (1966); Casson (1971); Reddé (1986); Blackman (2008); Keay (2012a); Blackman and Rankov (2014). 104 For sailing seasons, see Casson (1971); Braudel (1972–1973); Rougé (1986); Horden and Purcell (2000); McCormick (2001), and more notably Beresford (2013) – Beresford states that sailing in antiquity was possible throughout the year, although this is debatable as the literary sources do not agree with the archaeological, iconographic and statistical data that support year-round sailing. Further archaeological evidence is necessary to argue more fully this point; for piracy and raids, see also De Souza (1999; 2008: 71–8). 105 Beresford (2013); Scheidel (2014: 27–9). 106 With the only exception of the Copenhagen sarcophagus; see Lawrence (1999: 289–92). 107 Braudel (1972: 249–50); Horden and Purcell (2000: 143); McCormick (2001: 444–58); Beresford (2013: 4–5). 108 De Souza (2008: 71–96); Arnaud (2016: 117–74). 109 Aug., RG 25. 110 Strab. 3.2.5. 111 De Souza (2008: 71–96); Scheidel (2014: 7–32). 112 Zanker (1997: 182–3); Cuyler (2014: 129); De Angelis (2014: 89–114). 113 Scranton et al. (1976); Maioli (1984); Pensa (1997: 704–8; 1999: 104–9); Friedman (2011); Cuyler (2014: 129); Ugolini (2015: 4–11).

Notes to pp. 139–147

199

114 Casson (1971); Blackman (2008); Raban (2009); Oleson et al. (2014). 115 Mikocki (1990); Zanker (1997); Burnett (1999: 137–9); Pensa (1997; 1998; 1999); Davies (2000); Liverani (2007: 19–21); Reddé and Golvin (2008); Tuck (2008); Giardina (2010); De Angelis (2014: 89–95). 116 Ling (1991); Zanker (1997); Ling (1998); Dunbabin (1999); Liverani (2007). 117 Keay (2010a: 11–22; 2010b: 18–21); Scheidel (2014: 7–32); Arnaud (2016: 116–74). 118 Pensa (1999: 99–100); Ugolini (2015: 8–10). 119 Liverani (2007: 20); De Angelis (2014: 89–106). 120 Meiggs (1973); Panella (1989: 138–54); De Salvo (1992); Broekaert (2013); Terpstra (2014: 122–5). 121 Meiggs (1973: 285–6); Sirks (1991); De Salvo (1992); Virlouvet and Marin (2004); De Salvo (2006: 779–87); Broekaert (2008: 692–8); Virlouvet (2009); Broekaert (2013: 218–20). 122 Rougé (1966); Meiggs (1973); Virlouvet and Marin (2004); Virlouvet (2009). In this regard, Rougé defined them as merchants and ship-owners respectively. Meiggs speculates that negotiates ordered goods from their districts, when the navicularii then transported to destined markets, e.g. Ostia. Virlouvet proposes that they primarily performed services for the annona. 123 Meiggs (1973: 286–7). 124 Broekaert (2013: 218). 125 Tchernia (1986); Panella (1989: 154–62); De Salvo (1992); Tchernia (2016). 126 De Salvo (1992: 139). 127 Broekaert (2013: 56). 128 Meiggs (1973); Sirks (1991); De Salvo (1992); Virlouvet and Marin (2004); De Salvo (2006); Broekaert (2008: 695–8); Virlouvet (2009); Broekaert (2013). 129 Prontera (1985: 137–8); De Maria (1988); Sampaolo (1988); Ling (1991); Dall’Olio (1997: 197–8); Pensa (1997: 695–9); Dunbabin (1999). 130 De Salvo (1992); Broekaert (2013); Tchernia (2016). 131 De Salvo (1992); Keay (2010a). 132 Meiggs (1973); Keay (2010a: 11–22; 2010b: 18–21); Arnaud (2016). 133 De Salvo (1992); Virlouvet and Marin (2004); De Salvo (2006); Broekaert (2008); Virlouvet (2009); Broekaert (2013).

Chapter 6 1 2 3 4

See case studies in Chapters 2 and 3. Plin. the Younger, Ep. 6.31. Oleson et al. (2014). Zanker (1997: 179–82).

200

Notes to pp. 147–154

5 In most of these harbour representations, apart from subjects including large moles and tall lighthouses, marine gods assume a central role as a symbol of the scenes and of their power over seamen and harbours. The personification of waterways, whether maritime or riverine, is frequent, as in the case of the Danube, Nile and Tiber. It is also common to find deities – such as Jupiter, Venus and Neptune – presiding over harbours; deified emperors and rulers can also be seen on the top of arches and other monumental structures. See Tuck (2008). 6 Scranton et al. (1976); Dunbabin (1978); Ling (1998). 7 Mikocki (1990); Zanker (1997: 179–86); Elsner (2006); De Angelis (2014: 89–97). 8 Giardina (2010: 28–34); Cuyler (2014: 128–30); Kowalzig (2018: 125–9). 9 Tuck (1997). 10 Settis et al. (1988); Giuliani and Maamoun (2003); De Angelis (2014: 89–114); Stefan (2015). 11 Abaecherli Boyce (1966: 70–5); Cuyler (2014: 128–30). 12 For example, the Latium and Campania wall paintings and the reliefs of Trajan’s Column. 13 Ling (1991). 14 See Chapter 5. 15 Peters (1963); Ling (1991); Sampaolo (1998); Ciarallo (2006). 16 Dall’Olio (1995: 197–8); Pensa (1997: 695–705). 17 Kolendo (1977: 108–27; 1982: 108–27). 18 Dunbabin (1978). 19 Plin. HN; Suet. Aug.; Tac. Ann. 20 Ojeda (2017: 85–92). 21 Testaguzza (1970: 170–2); Cuyler (2014: 121–9); Ojeda (2017: 85–92). 22 But the alternative interpretation of the harbour image within public context is also possible – it could also be a votive offering or a sacrificial offer, and not (after all) a masterpiece by a most eminent art-maker. Bertacchi (1960: 8–32); Clarke (1979; 1996: 87–107). 23 Prontera (1985: 137–8); Zanker (1997: 185–9). 24 Scranton et al. (1976). 25 Becatti (1961); Zanker (1997: 185–8). 26 Rickman (1980); Harris (2011); Temin (2013); Hobson (2015). 27 Rice et al. (2012: 367–92). 28 Wilson (2011: 161–95). 29 Pensa (1999: 100–1). 30 Rickman (1985: 105–14). 31 Casson (1971: 297–9). 32 Peters (1963). 33 Dunbabin (1999).

Notes to pp. 154–163

201

34 Ling (1991). 35 Ling (1991); Pensa (1997: 692–5). 36 Strab. 6.4.1. 37 Purcell (1996: 270–1). 38 Plin. HN; Strab.; Blackman (1982a: 709–10; 1982b: 190–8); Raban (2009); Keay (2012b: 48–56); Oleson et al. (2014). 39 Thomas (2007: 70–1). 40 Thomas (2007: 180–2); Noreña (2011); Hölscher (2014). 41 Oleson et al. (2014). 42 Thomas (2007: 183). 43 Joseph., AJ 16.144. 44 Thiersch (1909); Picard (1952: 23–9); Reddé (1979: 855–68); Giardina (2010: 57–63). 45 Thomas (2007); Giardina (2010: 57–63). 46 Edwards and Woolf (2006). 47 Duval (1986: 151–5); Piccirillo (1991). 48 Clarke (1979); De Maria (1988); Pensa (1997: 695–9); Dunbabin (1999). 49 Zanker (1997: 179–92); Liverani (2007: 13–27). 50 Tucci (2012: 575–91). 51 Gentili (1959); Dunbabin (1978); Clarke (1979); Ling (1991; 1998); Dunbabin (1999). 52 Zanker (1997: 179–84). 53 Braudel (1972–1973); Horden and Purcell (2000). 54 De Angelis (2014: 89–96). 55 Pensa (1997: 689–95; 1999: 102–18). 56 Horden and Purcell (2000); Broodbank (2013). 57 Thommen (2012). 58 Lawrence (1962: 289–92). 59 Hughes (2005); Thommen (2012). 60 Leach (1988). 61 Lawrence (1962: 289–93). 62 Grove and Rackham (2001). 63 Scranton et al. (1976). 64 Peters (1963); Pensa (1999: 103–18). 65 Zanker (1997: 179–95). 66 Morley (1996). 67 Morley (1996). 68 De Maria (1985: 521–8). 69 Scheidel (2014: 7–32); Arnaud (2016: 117–74). 70 De Souza (1999: 217–8). 71 Arnaud (2007: 321–36).

202

Notes to pp. 163–179

72 Horden and Purcell (2000); Beresford (2013: 134–46); Scheidel (2014: 25–9); Arnaud (2016: 116–74). 73 Thommen (2012); Plin., NH 6.26.6; 12.41.2; Pliny the Elder, for instance, mentions the economic value of a shipping of luxury commodities from Muziris, in India, to Alexandria as worth some 131 talents, and a Roman cargo ship would have transported some 150 such shippings, denoting how profitable was such trade and how connected were seas and ports from the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean. His estimate of the value of Rome’s trade to India and China at some 100 milion sesterces per year, overstated or not, is a marker of how long-distance maritime trade becomes a fact that reflects on the economic expansion and the welfare of members of mercantile classes, and beyond. 74 Belz (1978); Dunbabin (1999). 75 Horden and Purcell (2000). 76 Hughes (2006); Thommen (2012). 77 Morley (1996); McInerney and Sluiter (2016). 78 Keay (2010a: 11–22; 2012b: 55–9). 79 Pensa (1999: 105–20); Kowalzig (2018: 119–27). 80 Scheidel (2009: 46–70; 2011: 21–37); Temin (2013). 81 Arnaud (2007: 321–36); Rice et al. (2012: 367–92); Scheidel (2014: 7–32); Arnaud (2016: 117–74).

Chapter 7 1 Or representing Mediterranean environment, such as for the Bad Kreuznach mosaic; see García Morcillo (2005). 2 For instance, future works might explore more widely late antique, medieval, and especially early modern iconographies of harbourscapes as they are even richer in details and numbers than those from earlier periods; see Pensa (1999); Ugolini (2017). 3 Keay (2012a). 4 Horden and Purcell (2000). 5 Keay et al. (2005); Keay (2012a); Blackman and Rankov (2014); Oleson et al. (2014). 6 Meiggs (1973); De Salvo (1992); Broekaert (2013). 7 Blackman (1982a-b); Rickman (1985); Raban (2009); Keay (2012a–b); Oleson et al. (2014). 8 Pensa (1997; 1999). 9 Arnaud (2007); Bowman and Wilson (2009); Scheidel (2009; 2011); Temin (2013). 10 Ugolini (2017). 11 Morley (1996); Laurence (1999); Keay (2012a). 12 Piccirillo (1991); Dall’Olio (1997); Pensa (1999). 13 Tchernia (2016).

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Index Adriatic Sea 1, 2, 36, 91, 93–100, 115, 117–18, 141, 170, 193 adventus 31, 75, 77 Aegean Sea 1, 2, 36, 91, 170 Africa 1, 23, 24, 28, 30, 64, 66, 75, 101, 102, 104, 114, 117–19, 131, 133, 142, 151, 152 Albania 98 Alexander the Great 15, 27 Alexandria 1–10, 12–13, 15–21, 23, 25–43, 45, 47, 49, 51, 53, 55, 69–71, 74–7, 82, 87, 101, 105, 108, 121, 125, 128–30, 142, 145–7, 149–50, 154, 157–8, 169, 173, 177, 181, 187, 202 Antirhodos 17 Cape Lochias 15–17 Fort Qait 16 Great Harbour (Portus Magnus) 16–19 Heptastadion 16, 185 Lake Mariout 15 Pharos 15–17, 20–1, 69, 121, 149, 154, 158, 183, 185 Royal Harbour 17 Timonium 17 Western Harbour (Portus Eunostus) 16 Althiburos, Tunisia 70, 192 amphitheatre 9, 24, 29, 32, 54, 60, 97, 124, 135 Ampurias, Spain 61 Ancona 2, 28, 31, 78, 82, 91, 93–100, 142, 181, 193–4 Arch of Trajan 95 Col Guasco 93 Temple of Venus 93–4 Anctium (Anzio) 68 animals (various) 23–4, 39, 40, 78, 112, 114–19, 124, 131, 138, 149, 154–5, 160–1, 163, 170 annona 20, 23, 88–9, 141, 199 Antony 17, 193 Antoninus Pius (emperor) 62, 118 Anzio 68

Apamea, Syria 11, 13, 111, 133, 140 House of the Triclinium 133 Apennines 95 apodyterium 118 Appianus 12 Aquae pensiles 60, 63 Aquileia 28, 68, 91, 94, 96–9, 136, 142, 149 Via Gemina 97 Arabia 1, 75, 115, 172 arch 9, 24, 29–32, 34, 43–4, 47, 49–51, 53, 59, 62–3, 67, 69, 72, 77–8, 89, 91, 93–7, 99, 101–4, 106, 116–17, 128, 134, 149, 168, 193, 200 artemon 70 Athens, Greece 1, 3, 31, 38, 177, 188 Augustan period 2, 17–18 intervention 137 propaganda 81 Augustus (emperor) 18, 24, 27, 59, 75, 78, 81, 103, 137, 208, arch 101 Bacchus (Dionysus) 68–9, 80, 101, 103 Bad Kreuznach, Germany 11, 13, 111–12, 115, 126–7, 149, 170, 183, 202 Bagram, Afghanistan 140 Baiae 61, 63 Balkans 95, 98 balineum Faustines 60, 63 Belvedere sarcophagus, Rome 72, 78, 125, 152 birds (various) 53, 113–15 Black Sea 1, 2, 36, 91 breakwater 9, 29, 34, 59, 62, 87, 105, 130, 146, 177 bridge 9, 16, 29–32, 47, 49, 80, 97–9, 123, 124–5, 161, 168 Brindisi 94–6, 98, 193 Caesar 17, 19, 193 Caesarea Maritima, Israel 2, 28, 82, 146, 181

224

Index

Campania 4–5, 37, 45, 48, 51–3, 67, 74, 117, 153, 171, 200 Capitoline Museums, Rome 11, 128–9 triad 81 Capri 74 Villa Iovis 74 Caracalla (emperor) 101, 118 cardus maximus 118 Carthage, Tunisia 31, 131, 133, 203 Carthaginians 23 Cassius Dio 12, 20 Catullus 12, 94 Centumcellae (Civitavecchia) 28, 74–5, 146–7, 156 Ceres (Demeter) 88–9 Cherchel, Algeria 133 China 1, 202 Claudian, basin 21 dynasty 76–7 harbour 30, 68, 87–9 ideology 76 period 23 Claudius (emperor) 13, 19–21, 27, 30, 58, 68, 75, 77–8, 80, 85–6, 88–90, 100, 103, 109, 121, 128, 148 Cologne, Germany 59–60 colossus 79, 147 Commodus (emperor) 133 Conero 109 Copenhagen, Denmark 70, 198 Corinth, Greece 28, 31, 136, 142, 146, 149 Corinthian capital 95 order 60 Corsica, France 142, 152 Cosa 130 Crete, Greece 119 cubiculum 41 Cupids (Erotes) 64–7, 72, 79, 119, 124, 131, 133, 149 Dacia 78, 91, 95, 97–8, 100 Dacian Wars 91, 94, 97 campaign 96, 100, 108 Dalmatia 97–8, 170 Danube river 98, 200 Danubian frontiers 93–5, 98, 170 Delos, Greece 114 Dexiphanes 183 Diodorus of Sicily 17

Diomedes 94 dolphin 65–6, 71, 72, 77, 87, 89, 112, 115, 119, 129 Domitian (emperor) 69, 78 domus 44, 113–14, 116–17, 127–8, 196 Durres, Albania 98 Edrisi (traveller) 183 Egypt 10, 15, 23, 31, 39–40, 87, 115, 117, 151–2, 157 Egyptians 115 Enna, Sicily 131 Ephesus, Turkey 136 Ethiopia 39 euergetism 145 Europa 119 fish (various): see also marine fauna 39, 45, 72–3, 77, 112, 115 Flavian period 26, 81 Forum 24, 59, 97, 101, 104 Boarium 60, 63, 114 Holitorium 21, 60, 63 Old Forum 24 Trajan’s Forum 91 Fourth-Style 46, 51, 54 Fréjus, France 28 Gaul 23, 118, 142, 151 genius 69 Gerasa, Jordan 190 Germany 10–11, 126 Geta (emperor) 101 Gragnano painting 11, 37, 43, 46, 50–4, 60, 62, 67, 124–5, 133, 146, 149, 154, 171 Greece 1, 10, 31, 151, 157, 170, 189 Greeks 2–3, 9, 26, 27–8, 33, 37, 39–40, 68, 138, 151, 162, 183 Gulf of Syrte, Libya 24 Hadrianic period 42, 118 harbour 1–13, 15–55, 57–83, 85–91, 93–109, 111–28, 130–6, 138–43, 145–65, 167–79, 181, 185, 187–8, 191, 195, 197, 200 Hellenistic age 19, 149, 172 art 40, 67 authority 55

Index context 155 Egypt 31 era 16, 179 harbours 37, 168 influence 57 kingdom 1, 151 model 54, 77, 147, 153 mosaic 39, 73 painting 73, 159 patron 58 pattern 42, 44, 74 period 2–4, 6–10, 12–13, 15, 19, 34–6, 55, 63, 66, 75, 162, 169, 171 planners 18, 27 princeps 78 principate 160 provinces 155 repertoire 53, 155 ruler 77, 161 style 65, 155 taste 79, 155 technological engineering advancements 19 time 154 tradition 40, 58, 65, 80 Herculaneum 5 Hercules (Heracles) 8, 101, 103, 112 bibax 113–14 Olivarius 114 Hippo, Algeria, mosaic 111, 124–5 Historia Augusta 62 horrea 60, 63, 147, 154 Imperial period 3–4, 7–10, 12, 24, 26, 34–6, 41, 54, 58, 66, 76, 111–12, 114, 128, 134, 143, 145, 170, 173, 175, 178 India 1, 202 Indian Ocean 202 inscriptions 31, 33, 60, 87, 117–18, 134, 141–2, 194, 197 Isis 16 temple 40, 133, 188 Istria 95 Italy 4, 10–11, 13, 31, 40, 42, 75, 83, 87, 100, 104, 115, 131, 137, 142, 151–2, 157–8, 170 jetty 17, 51, 67 Josephus 16, 183

225

Julio-Claudian dynasty 24, 75–8, 81–2, 85, 103–4, period 77, 82 Jupiter (Zeus) 77, 81, 103, 119, 147, 200 Dolichenus 26, 65, 80, 82, 101–2 Juvenal 94, 191–3 kantharoi 114 Kenchreai, Greece 2, 181, 189 landscapes 2–7, 38–9, 41–6, 48–9, 50, 51–5, 60, 65–7, 74, 88, 100, 108, 124–5, 133, 142–3, 149, 154–6, 163–4, 167, 171–3 Late Antique, period 21, 173, 178, 202 Latium 4, 5, 37, 45, 48, 51, 53, 67, 117, 153, 171, 177, 200 Leptiminus, Tunisia 28 Leptis Magna 2, 4, 7–15, 17, 19, 21, 23–31, 33, 35–7, 39, 41, 43, 47, 49, 51, 53, 57–8, 64–5, 67–8, 72–3, 75–6, 80–3, 101–6, 108, 115–16, 147, 149–50, 154, 173, 177, 181, 185 Arch of Septimius Severus 9, 11, 13, 32, 66, 85, 101–2, 104–5, 107, 147–8 Wadi Lebda 24 Levantine Sea 1, 36, coasts 3 Libya 10–11, 17, 23, 31, 115, 119, 131, 151, 196 Libyan Sea 1, 2 lighthouse 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 15–17, 20–1, 26, 28–32, 34–6, 41, 48, 53, 62, 68–72, 74–9, 81–2, 85–7, 89, 101–7, 112, 115–16, 118–21, 123–5, 128, 130–1, 134–5, 146–7, 156–8, 173, 183–4, 187, 200 Lod, Israel, mosaic 115 macellum 54, 125 Madaba, Jordan 190 Mainz, Germany 126, 127 Marciana 95 Marcus Aurelius (emperor) 118 mare nostrum 57, 143, 177 marine elements (various) 1–8, 12, 19, 23, 26–32, 34–9, 44, 46, 51–3, 55, 57–9, 61–71, 75–6, 78–83, 85, 87–90, 97, 100–1, 103–6, 109, 111–12, 115, 118–20, 122–3, 126, 130–1, 133–8, 140–3, 145–7, 149–50, 152, 154, 156, 158–65, 172, 175–7, 200

226

Index

Marseille, France 28 Mauretania 133 Medieval period 21, 202 Mediterranean Sea 1–4, 7, 10, 12, 17, 26–34, 36–7, 55, 57, 60, 70, 73–7, 80–3, 85, 90–1, 93, 99–101, 104–9, 111–12, 115–18, 121, 131, 134, 136–43, 152–3, 157–65, 169–79, 202 cities 101, 109, 112, 173, 178–9 ports 18, 32–3, 136, 141–2, 168, 171–3, 175–6 provinces 155 region 148, 152, 158, 168, 172, 178–9 Mercury (Hermes) 91, 95 Middle East 28, 31, 172 mirabilia 101 Misenum 28, 45, 74, 98, 117 mole 1, 9, 15–16, 19, 20–1, 28–9, 30–2, 34, 36–7, 39, 41–3, 47–9, 50, 51–4, 59, 60–3, 66–7, 69, 74–8, 81, 85–6, 89, 95–6, 99, 103, 115, 116, 121, 124–5, 128, 130, 133–5, 138, 148–9, 156–7, 159, 165, 177, 188, 200 mosaics 5, 6, 8, 10–3, 34, 36, 38–40, 44–5, 72–4, 76, 112, 114–16, 118–19, 121–2, 125, 131–6, 140–1, 149, 153–4, 156, 165, 170, 190, 196 Muziris, India 202

Nile river 39–41, 200 Nilotic subjects 4, 39–40, 43, 53, 64–5, 67, 73, 115, 125 Ny Carlsberg Gylptotek Museum, Copenhagen 70–2

Naples 5, 6, 11, 12, 43–4, 49, 50–2, 54, 86, 138 gulf 19 navalia 43, 147, 187 painting 11, 43–4 navicularii 141, 199 navis caudicaria 87 corbita 70, 87 onoraria 87 scapha 71 tabellaria 112, 116 negotiantes 117, 141 Neptune (Poseidon) 46, 59, 68, 77–82, 87, 91, 95, 120–1, 128, 147, 200 Nereids 77 Nero (emperor) 13, 19, 24, 27, 58, 68, 75, 85–90, 100, 148 coin (sestertius) 8, 11, 86–90, 105–6, 120, 140, 147, 155 Neronic period 79

paideia 145, 158, 160, 162–3 Palestrina (Praeneste) 39, 73 Nile mosaic 40, 42–3, 67, 73, 196 Paphos, Cyprus 28, 136, 140 Parthia 30 Parthian wars 100, 107 Phoenicians 23–4, 31, 138, 162 Piazza Armerina, Sicily 131 Great Hunt mosaic 131, 133 pier 17, 19, 37, 41, 46–7, 59, 62, 117, 124, 133–4, 146, 152 pilae, pilas 61–2 Pliny the Elder 12, 17, 74, 76, 115, 202 Pliny the Younger 12, 76, 146, 156 Plotina 95 Pompeii 5, 11–12, 37, 43–5, 50–1, 53, 59, 67, 115–16, 138, 149, 156, 188 Casa della Fontana Piccola 46–8 Pompeiopolis, Turkey 28 Populonia 61–2

obelisk 39 Oceanus 77, 79, 128, 147, mosaic 11, 126–7, 183 Oplontis (Torre Annunziata) 41–3, 49, 67, 188 opus pilarum 62 quadratum 69, 71, 93 sectile 67 Osiris 16 Ostia 2, 7, 13, 17, 19–21, 23, 28, 37, 46, 53, 60, 70–2, 74–5, 78, 86–8, 105–6, 111–12, 115–21, 129–30, 138, 140–2, 149, 152, 154, 157, 169–70, 177, 181, 187, 190, 197, 199 Belvedere sarcophagus 11, 72, 78, 125 House of the Baths of the Lighthouse 118–21 House of the Harbour Mosaic 119–21 Piazzale delle Corporazioni 11, 112, 118–19, 130, 141–2 Ottavius Herennius (trader) 114

Index port 6, 18–20, 28–30, 142, 155, 164, 168, 175–6 portex Neptuni 60 portico 1, 3, 29, 31, 34, 36, 39, 45, 47–50, 54, 59–60, 63, 65–7, 74, 86, 89, 91, 97, 105, 112, 118, 124–5, 131, 133–5, 149, 151, 158, 168, 178, 188 Portunus 81, 91, 147 Portus 2–4, 7–10, 15–16, 19–23, 26–31, 33–4, 37–8, 69–72, 74–8, 82–3, 86–90, 98, 100–1, 103, 105–6, 108, 115–19, 121, 130, 142, 145–6, 149–50, 152, 154, 156–7, 164, 173, 177, 181–2, 184–5, 194 Darsena 20–1, 88 Fossa Traiana 21, 23 Grandi Magazzini 185 Palazzo Imperiale 21, 185 Prague, Czech Republic 59, 60–2 Proconsular provinces 133 pronao 46, 51 Ptolemaic dynasty 18 harbour 18 pattern 157 rulers 81 technicians 19 Ptolemy I Soter 16 Ptolemy II Philadelphus 16 Punic Wars 23 levels 24 Puteoli flasks (Ampurias, Cologne, Odemira, Ostia, Pilkington, Populonia, Prague) 11, 58–63, 66, 74–5, 124, 146 quadriga 59, 72 quadriportico 97 quay 1, 9, 15, 20, 24, 26, 28, 29–32, 34–7, 39, 42, 46, 51–2, 54, 69, 72, 74, 77, 81, 86–7, 91, 93–4, 97–9, 116, 121, 125, 130, 134, 147–9, 159, 165, 177–8 Ravenna 6, 11, 17, 28–9, 74–5, 82, 91, 94–8, 100, 113, 116, 149, 156–7 Porta Aurea 94 reditus 30, 75, 77 Remus 68 Rimini 6, 11–13, 111–18, 121, 124, 142, 149, 196

227

Domus Fratelli Bandiera 196 domus of Mercato Coperto 116 domus of Palazzo Diotallevi 112–13, 116, 140 domus of Palazzo Gioia 116, 196 domus of the Surgeon (Chirurgo) 116, 196 Mosaic of Orpheus 196 Mosaic of the Ships 11, 113–16, 149, 170, 183 Mosaic of the Winged Victory 196 Rhakotis, Egypt 183 Rome 1, 3, 5–6, 11–13, 15, 17–21, 23–7, 29, 31, 33, 35–9, 41, 43–7, 49, 51, 53, 55, 57–9, 62–70, 72–3, 75–7, 79, 82–3, 87–9, 91–2, 94–5, 98–9, 103, 106–8, 111–12, 114–17, 119, 121–2, 124, 126–31, 138–42, 149–50, 152–4, 157–9, 164, 169, 177, 202 Antiquarium Comunale 7, 11, 71–2, 112, 115–16, 120, 128–30, 140, 149, 170, 177 Arch of Titus 101 Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere (mosaic) 63 Esquilino painting 11, 37, 59 Farnesina villa 11, 45–6 Palazzo Rospigliosi-Pallavicini 128 Quirinale Hill 128 Temple of Hercules Victor (Hercules Olivarius) 114 Trajan’s Column 6, 11, 13, 37, 66, 85, 90–2, 95–6, 98–100, 104, 136, 139, 147–9, 170, 182, 200 Via Appia 94, 98 Via Mazzarino 128 Via Nazionale 128 Via Portuensis 23 Roman Empire 2, 70, 142, 151 Romans 9, 13, 19, 28, 37, 83, 138, 156, 164–5 Romulus 68 Sahara desert 26 Salerno relief 140 Salona, Croatia 97–8 Sardinia 118, 142, 152 Sava river 98 sea horses 93, 119

228 sea monsters 119–20, 138, 160 seaports 1, 5, 28, 117 seascape 6, 39, 42–3, 55, 67, 72–4, 83, 89, 104, 109, 133, 138, 163, 165 Second Dacian War 91, 97 Second-Style 41–5 Senate 91, 95, 100, 106, 109, 139, 176 Septimius Severus (emperor) 24, 30, 81–2, 103 sestertius 11, 86–7, 90 Severans 24, 27, 75, 101–4 buildings 147 harbour 81–2 period 20, 26, 28, 70, 80, 109, 150 plans 23 warehouses 21 Severii 104 Sidon, Lebanon 28 Sol Invictus 102 Sostratus of Cnidos (architect) 16 Spain 10–1, 23, 137 Stabiae 51–2, 54, 156 stationes 142 Strabo 12, 16–7, 19, 30, 137, 156 Strait of Gibraltar 3 Studius (painter) 154, 156, 188 Suetonius 12, 20, 74, 76, 121, 184 Tacitus 12, 20, 74, 76, 86, 89 Temple of Fortuna (Isis-Tyche) 41 Temple of Serapis 61 templum Apollinis 60 Terracina 68, 130 Third-Style 45, 54 tholos 126 thyrsus 69 Tiber, river 19–21, 23, 33, 58, 63, 74–5, 200 Tiberius (emperor) 74–5 Tiro, Lebanon 28

Index Torlonia relief 11, 68–72, 76–8, 89, 117, 128, 140, 147, 150, 156 Trajan (emperor) 20–1, 24, 27, 58, 68, 74, 77–81, 86, 91, 93, 95–101, 103, 108 harbour 21, 23, 82 programme 30 Trajanic period 118 trees 49–50, 64, 72–3, 131, 133, 149 tribunicia potestas 95 triclinium 11, 112, 126–7, 133 Trieste 91, 97–8 Tripolitania, Libya 24 tritons 52–3, 59, 62, 77, 79, 119, 128 Tunisia 10, 23, 70, 115, 131, 196 Tyrrhenian Sea 1, 2, 20, 48, 53, 60, 62–3, 91, 94, 99–100, 115–17, 146, 170 port 117 Vatican Museums 11, 152 Vega Baja, Toledo, mosaic 11, 13, 111–12, 115–16, 121–3, 125–6, 140, 149, 170, 177, 183 vegetal ornaments (various) 154 venationes 133 Venus (Aphrodite) 81–2, 91, 93–4, 119, 147, 200 vestibulum 131 Victorinus (mosaicist) 197 Villa del Casale, Piazza Armerina 131–2 virtus 80 Vitruvius 18, 45 warehouses (horrea) 1, 15, 20–1, 23, 26, 28–33, 50, 53, 59–60, 63, 69, 74, 89, 101, 103–5, 125, 133, 147, 154, 158, 168, 178 Windsor Castle, Eton 58 Zadar, Croatia 96–7