Earth and Ocean: The Terrestrial World in Early Byzantine Art (Monographs on the Fine Arts)

Earth and Ocean The Terrestrial World in Early Byzantine Art

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HENRY MAGUIRE

Earth and Ocean The Terrestrial World in Early Byzantine Art

Published for THE CoLLEGE ART AssociATION oF AMERICA

by THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS UNIVERSITY PARK AND LONDON

Monographs on the Fine Arts sponsored by THE COLLEGE ART ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA XLIII Editor, Carol F. Lewine

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Maguire, Henry, 1943Earth and ocean. (Monographs on the fine arts; 43) Bibliography: p. Includes index. r. Pavements, Mosaic-Byzantine Empire--Themes, motives. 2. Mosaics, Byzantine--Themes, motives. 3. Nature (Aesthetics) I. Title. II. Series. NA3780.M34 1987 729'.7'09495 86-22551 ISBN o-271-00477-0

Copyright © 1987 The College Art Association of America All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America

Contents

I

II III IV

v VI VII

List of Illustrations vu Acknowledgments xm Introduction I The Language of Symbols 5 The Literal Sense I 7 Partial Allegory 3I The Gathering of the Waters 4I The Creatures of the Fifth Day 57 Nature and Humanity 67 King and Creator 73 Conclusion 8I Notes 85 Bibliography IOI Index I05 Illustrations III

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List of Illustrations

r. Butrinto, baptistery, pavement, inserted motifs

2.

(from Luigi M. Ugolini, "II battistero di Butrinto," Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, xr [1934], fig. 2)

romischen Mosaiken der kirchlichen Bauten vom IV.XIII.]ahrhundert [Freiburg im Breisgau], I976, plate roi)

Ancona, Christian tomb, pavement, The Vineyard of Isaiah (from Bullettino di Archeologia Cristiana, 3rd series, vol. IV [1879], plate 9)

8. Antioch, Bath "E", large hall, pavement (detail), Earth (photo: Department of Art and Archaeology, Princeton University)

3. Kato Paphos-Chrysopolitissa, basilica, nave pavement (detail), "I am the True Vine" (photo: Dr. A. Papageorghiou, Cyprus Museum, Nicosia) 4· Gerasa, funerary chapel, nave pavement (detail), Vine with Commemorative Inscription (photo: Yale University and Dumbarton Oaks) 5. Christ and His Flock, silver reliquary from Henchir Zirara. Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (photo: Biblioteca Vaticana)

9. Antioch, Bath "E", large hall, pavement, The Earth and the Water (after Doro Levi, Antioch Mosaic Pavements, I [Princeton, I947], fig. roo) IO. Nikopolis, Basilica of Dumetios, north transept, pavement, Earth and Ocean (photo: Archaeological Society, Athens) I I. Nikopolis, Basilica of Dumetios, north transept, pavement (detail), Earth and Ocean (photo: Archaeological Society, Athens) 12.

6. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, apse mosaic (reproduced

through the courtesy of the Michigan-PrincetonAlexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai)

Nikopolis, Basilica of Dumetios, north transept, pavement, Ocean, detail, Duck in Lotus Plant (photo: author)

r 3. Map of the World According to Cosmas Indicopleustes.

7· Rome, SS. Cosmas and Damian, apse mosaic (from Joseph Wilpert, Walter N. Schumacher, Die

Rome, Biblioteca Vaticana, MS. gr. 699, fol. 40v. (photo: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana)

vm

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

14. The Creation of Land Animals. Istanbul, Seraglio Library, MS. 8, fol. 32v.

the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai)

15. Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement, Earth and Ocean (from A. K. Orlandos, "Palaiochristianika kai byzantina mnemeia Tegeas-Nykliou," Archeion ton Byzantinan Mnemeion tes Hellados, xu [1973], plate A)

28. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, sixth ceiling beam, Beasts of the Land (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai)

16. Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement (detail), Tigris (photo: G. Hougen) 17. Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement (detail), july (photo: G. Hougen) 18. Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement (detail), August (photo: G. Hougen) 19. Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement (detail), February (photo: G. Hougen) 20. Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement (detail), May (photo: G. Hougen) 21. Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement (detail), Marine Creatures in Border (photo: G. Hougen) 22. Antioch, building north of St. Paul's Gate, pavement, "Renewal" and the Seasons (photo: Department of Art and Archaeology, Princeton University) 23. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, ceiling beams (reproduced through the courtesy of the MichiganPrinceton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 24. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, first ceiling beam, Land Creatures (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 25. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, first ceiling beam (detail), Antelope and Plants (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 26. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, third ceiling beam, Marine Creatures (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 27. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, third ceiling beam (detail), Marine Creatures (reproduced through

29. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, sixth ceiling beam (detail), Boar and Elephant (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-PrincetonAlexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 30. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, ninth ceiling beam, Birds (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 3r. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, ninth ceiling beam (detail), Birds (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 32. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, twelfth ceiling beam, Nilotic Scenes (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 33. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, twelfth ceiling beam (detail), Crocodile, Boat, and Ostrich (reproduced through the courtesy of the Michigan-Princeton-Alexandria Expedition to Mount Sinai) 34· Karl1k, basilica, pavement (detail), Animal Paradise of Isaiah (from Michael Gough, "«The Peaceful Kingdom>>: An Early Christian Mosaic Pavement in Cilicia Campestris," Melanges Mansel, I [Ankara, 1974], fig. 63) 35. Khalde, basilica, nave pavement, Earth and Ocean (from Maurice H. Chehab, Mosai"ques du Liban [Bulletin du Musee de Beyrouth, xiv-xv, Beirut, 1958-59], plate 66) 36. Khalde, basilica, nave pavement (detail), "Ship of Peace" (photo: Erica Dodd) 37. Khalde, basilica, nave pavement (detail), One Creature Devours Another (photo: Erica Dodd) 38. Gerasa, SS. Cosmas and Damian, nave pavement, Terrestrial Creation (from Carl H. Kraeling, Gerasa: City of the Decapolis [New Haven, 1938], plate 73)

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 39· Gerasa, SS. Cosmas and Damian, nave pavement (detail), Vine (photo: author) 40. Gerasa, SS. Cosmas and Damian, nave pavement (detail), Birds, Beasts, and Acanthus Plant (photo: Courtesy of Yale University and Dumbarton Oaks) 41. Gerasa, SS. Cosmas and Damian, nave pavement (detail), Birds, Beasts, and Water Creatures (photo: Courtesy of Yale University and Dumbarton Oaks) 42. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement, Earth and Ocean (from G. CvetkovicToma5evic, Heraclea, III, Mosaic Pavement in the Narthex of the Large Basilica at Heraclea Lyncestis

[Bitola, I 967]) 43. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement, central composition (photo: author) 44. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement (detail), Goat under Cedar Tree (photo: author) 45. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement (detail), Lion and Bull under Apple Tree (photo: author) 46. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement (detail), Dog under Fig Tree (photo: author) 47. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement (detail), Leopard and Hind under Pomegranate Tree (photo: author) 48. Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement (detail), Cross of Fish in the Border (photo: author) 49· Heraklea Lynkestis, Large Basilica, narthex pavement (detail), Ducks and Tree in Winter (photo: author) 50. Skhira, basilica, sanctuary pavement (detail), Stags Flanking Vase (from Mohamed Fendri, Basiliques chretiennes de Ia Skhira [Paris, I96I], plate I4) 5 r. Nicaea, painted tomb, Peacocks Flanking Cantharos

1x

John Ward-Perkins, justinianic Mosaic Pavements in Cyrenaican Churches [Monografie di Archeologia Libica, XIV, Rome, I98o], fig. IO) 53· Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), The "New Town Theodorias" (photo AudioVisual Center, Benghazi)

54· Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), "Ktisis" (photo: Department of Antiquities of Cyrenaica) 55. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), "Kosmesis" (photo: Department of Antiquities of Cyrenaica) 56. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), "Ananeosis" (photo: Department of Antiquities

of Cyrenaica) 57· Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), "Phison" (photo: Department of Antiquities of Cyrenaica) 58. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), Eagle Rending Deer (from Elisabeth Alfoldi-Rosenbaum and John Ward-Perkins justinianic Mosaic Pavements in Cyrenaican Churches [Monografie di Archeologia Libica, XIV, Rome, I98o], plate 5) 59. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), Stag and Serpent (from Elisabeth Alfoldi-Rosenbaum and John Ward-Perkins, Justinianic Mosaic Pavements in Cyrenaican Churches [Monografie di Archeologia Libica, XIV, Rome, I98o], plate 6) 60. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), "Castalia" (photo: Department of Antiquities of Cyrenaica) 6r. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), Facade (photo: Department of Antiquities of Cyrenaica) 62. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), Musician (photo: Audio-Visual Center, Benghazi)

(photo: Ihor Sevcenko) 52. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement, Earth and Ocean (from Elisabeth Alfoldi-Rosenbaum and

63. Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, nave pavement (detail), "The Lighthouse" (photo: Department of Antiquities of Cyrenaica)

x

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

64. Curium, Baths ofEustolius, "Long Mosaic Room," pavement (detail), "Ktisis" (photo: The University Museum, University of Pennsylvania) 65. Mount Nebo, Theotokos Chapel, nave pavement (detail), Fruit and Knife (photo: author) 66. Antioch, House of Ktisis, pavement, "Ktisis" and Creatures (photo: Department of Art and Archaeology, Princeton University)

77. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, Church of the Priest John, nave mosaic (detail) (photo: Terrasanta) 78. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, Church of the Priest John, nave mosaic (detail), Earth (photo: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum) 79. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, Church of the Priest John, nave mosaic (detail), Man's Defenses against Beasts (from Sylvester J. Saller and Bellarmino Bagatti, The Town of Nebo Qerusalem, I949], pl. 9)

67. Silver paten from Phela. Bern, Abegg-Stiftung 68. Huarte, North Church, pavement of apse (from Maria-Teresa and Pierre Canivet, "La Mosiique d' Adam dans l'eglise syrienne de Hiiarte (Ve S. ), " Cahiers Archeologiques, xxrv [ I975J, 49-70, fig. 3) 69. Jerusalem, pavement discovered near the Damascus Gate, Bird Rinceau (photo: courtesy of Kervork Hintlian) 70. Sabratha, Basilica of Justinian, pavements (from J. B. Ward-Perkins and R. G. Goodchild, "The Christian Antiquities of Tripolitania," Archaeologia, vc [1953], plate 26) 71. Sabratha, Basilica ofJustinian, nave pavement, Bird Rinceau (photo: Department of Antiquities, Tripoli) 72. Sabratha, Basilica of Justinian, sanctuary pavement (detail), Aquatic Creatures (from Salvatore Amigemma, L'Italia in Africa, Tripolitania, I, I monumenti d'arte decorativa, Part I, I mosaici [Rome, Ig6o], plate 35) 73. Constans I (obverse) and Phoenix on Globe (reverse), bronze coin from the mint of Trier. British Museum 74. Peiresc's copy of the Calendar of 3 54, Constantius II Holding Phoenix on Globe. Rome, Vatican Library, MS. Barb. Lat. 2I54, fol. 7r. (photo: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana) 75. Justinian Wearing Peacock Plumes, cast of gold medallion from Caesarea. British Museum 76. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, Church of the Priest John, nave mosaic (from Sylvester J. Saller and Bellarmino Bagatti, The Town ofNebo Qerusalem, 1949], fig. 4)

So. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, Church of the Priest John, nave mosaic (detail), Domestic Dog (from Sylvester J. Saller and Bellarmino Bagatti, The Town ofNebo Qerusalem, I949], pl. IO) 8 I. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, St. George, plan of mosaics (from Sylvester J. Saller and Bellarmino Bagatti, The Town of Nebo Qerusalem, I949], fig. 8) 82. Bronze stamp. Houston, Menil Foundation Collection (photo: Courtesy of Gary Vikan) 83. Khirbat al-Makhayyat, St. George, Wild and Domestic Beasts (photo: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum) 84. Theodosius Enthroned over Earth, silver missorium. Madrid, Academia de la Historia (from Richard Delbrueck, Spiitantike Kaiserportriits [Berlin, 1933], pl. 94) 85. Silk from St. Cuthbert's coffin (reconstructed detail), Earth. Durham Cathedral (from]. F. Flanagan, "The Figured Silks," in The Relics of St. Cuthbert, ed. C. F. Battiscombe (Oxford, I956], fig. I) 86. Divine and Imperial Dominion, leaf of ivory diptych. Paris, Louvre (photo: Musees Nationaux, Paris) 87. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, vault and arches (photo: German Archaeological Institute, Rome) 88. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, vault (photo: Hirmer Fotoarchiv) 89. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, soffit at top of eastern arch (photo: German Archaeological Institute, Rome) go. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, soffit at top of western

arch (photo: Alinari)

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

x1

91. Poree, Basilica of Eufrasius, apse, intarsia panel, Cornucopias and Tridents (photo: Ann Terry)

94. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, mosaic, Justinian and Twelve Companions (photo: Anderson)

92. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, apse and north side (photo: Alinari)

95. Ravenna, S. Apollinare Nuovo, south wall, mosaic (detail), St. Vitalis and Other Martyrs (photo: Alinari)

93. Ravenna, S. Vitale, chancel, apse mosaic, Christ Bestows Crown on St. Vitalis (photo: Alinari)

96. Crossed Cornucopias and Imperial Busts, onyx cameo. Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum

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Acknowledgments

For helping me to realize this book, I am indebted to many individuals and institutions. The research was begun at the library of the Warburg Institute in London, during the tenure of a Fellowship in the Center for Advanced Study of the University oflllinois at Urbana-Champaign. Two grants from the Research Board of the same university enabled me to visit and record sites in Egypt, Greece, Italy, Jordan, and Yugoslavia. It would not have been possible to complete my project without many individual acts of kindness received from friends and colleagues. In particular, I would like to thank all those people who have helped to obtain hard-to-find photographs of monuments now difficult of access or destroyed. In this regard I am especially indebted to Elisabeth Alfoldi, Charlotte Burk, Slobodan Curcic, Helen Evans, Ernst Kitzinger, and Ann Terry. Erica Dodd shared with me photographs and information taken, under the most difficult and even dangerous of conditions, from the mosaic at Khalde in the Lebanon. In Jordan I received valuable assistance from Adnan Hadidi, the Director General of the Department of Antiquities, and generous hospitality from Mohammad Al-Asad and his family. In the last stages of the work, my text acquired many stylistic improvements from the careful attention given by Carol Lewine, Editor of the College Art Association Monograph Series. I am also grateful to Cherene Holland at the Pennsylvania State University Press, who has assisted me over numerous points of detail. Many specialists have helped me over particular points of fact or interpretation; here I owe special thanks to Charalambos Bakirtzis, Cynthia Hahn, Anna Kartsonis, Herbert Kessler, Ruth Kolarik, Brian Madigan, Charlotte Roueche, and Gary Vikan. Most of all, however, I am indebted to Eunice Dauterman Maguire, who has contributed generously to this work at every stage. She sparked my initial interest in the problems of

XIV

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

interpreting nature imagery in early Byzantine art, she has been a constant source of references and ideas, and at the end she scrutinized my pages with a critical editorial eye. The book is dedicated to her as a small sign of its author's gratitude. Urbana, Illinois June 1986

Introduction

0

NE of the most distinctive characteristics of Byzantine art of the later fifth and the sixth centuries A.D. is its fondness for imagery drawn from natural history. Wherever the visitor looks in churches of this period, whether it be to the floors, to the walls, to the furnishings, or to the ceilings and the vaults, there may be representations of birds, beasts, sea creatures, and plants. These motifs from nature raise complex questions of meaning and significance. In the first place, the viewer wonders whether they were designed merely as ornaments for the churches they adorn, or whether they carried Christian content. And if the plants and creatures did convey Christian meanings, what meanings were intended by the artists or their patrons? Often the works of art do not in themselves provide clear answers to these questions, and the modern viewer is unsure how to interpret them. Fortunately, however, there is a great wealth of Early Christian literature on natural history incorporated into sermons and commentaries, and the richness of the visual imagery is amply matched in the texts. My aim is to explore the connections between this exegetical literature and presentations of nature in art. By studying the parallels between art and literature it is possible to reveal the common patterns of thinking that may have inspired both artists (or their patrons) and writers. There are many ways in which the study ofliterary texts can aid the historian who desires to understand the visual images of the past. First, and most obviously, a text can explain why an image has a particular form; that is, there can be a cause-and-effect relationship between literature and art, so the work of art becomes in some sense an illustration of the text. But a text can also explain what a given image means; it can reveal the thought processes that lie behind the work of art, even if the text itself was not known either directly or indirectly to the artist. In the latter case, the art historian is not concerned with proving that a given text has

2

INTRODUCTION

influenced an image, but he or she tries to show that both text and image reflect similar modes of thought. r In this book, texts will be used with the second of these aims in view, that is, to reveal the thought patterns embodied in certain early Byzantine portrayals of the natural world. The motifs from nature in early Byzantine art can be compared to keys that opened the way to associations. Like actual Byzantine keys, they appear to have been capable of opening more than one lock or door. A designer or viewer of a work of art might use a given motif, or key, to unlock one or more associations, or he or she might not use the key at all, so the associations would remain closed for that person. The choice would depend upon an individual's background, culture, and inclinations. 2 In this book I shall for the most part consider the keys only from the perspective of designers who used them with the intent to evoke specific ideas related to the physical geography of the terrestrial world, to its creation and governance, and to its symbolism. Of course, motifs from nature often appeared in less well-defined contexts in early Byzantine art. Frequently designers were content to illustrate plants and animals without providing any pointers to their interpretation; in such cases the viewer was left to use the keys to make associations, or to ignore them, as he or she wished. In this study, therefore, I shall examine only the more structured portrayals of the natural world. As will be explained in the first chapter, I believe that the products of even a single workshop of artists might range considerably in their intellectual content, according to the dictates of particular designers. In one place a patron, for example, might use the repertoire of a given workshop to create sophisticated intellectual constructs; in another place the same workshop might employ the same repertoire in a more haphazard fashion, perhaps having received only general instructions from the patron, or no instructions at all. Most of the works of art to be discussed in this book are floor mosaics, but we will also find portrayals of the earth and the ocean on walls, on vaults, and on ceilings. The pavement, however, remained the most popular place for displaying the terrestrial world: Not only was the earth an appropriate and relatively innocuous subject for imagery that was to be placed underfoot, but it was also a subject into which Christian symbolism could be inconspicuously woven, if the designer so desired. The study that follows, therefore, is an essay in interpretation. It is not intended as a complete catalogue of early Byzantine works of art portraying the terrestrial world, but it is meant as a guide to the reading of these rich and frequently complex images. The book is divided into seven chapters. Chapter I contains an introductory discussion of the language of symbolism in early Byzantine art, especially with respect to portrayals of themes from nature. This discussion is intended to open up a number of questions that will be addressed in more detail in the chapters that follow. Since a language does not exist in a vacuum but needs both an author and an audience, the last part of the first chapter discusses the respective roles of the designers and of the viewers of symbolic images in early Byzantine art, especially in floor mosaics. Each of the six subsequent chapters is devoted to a different interpretation of the terrestrial world, as seen both in art and in literature. Chapter II is concerned with those writers and artists who interpreted the world created by God in an absolutely literal sense, and who read into it no kind of symbolism or allegory. Chapter III is concerned with those who interpreted most of Creation literally but allegorized certain parts of it, so that they saw only some elements of natural history as Christian symbols. Chapters IV and V are concerned with those who were willing to allegorize the world extensively, imposing elaborate superstructures of symbolic meaning onto the whole scheme of Creation. Chapter VI is concerned with mosaics and commentaries that presented moralistic views of the 'earth by portraying man's role in nature. Finally, chapter VII shows how portrayals of Earth and Ocean could also have

INTRODUCTION

3

had an imperial significance in early Byzantine art, in the decoration of churches as well as of palaces. Several pages of this study are concerned with the symbolic meanings of specific motifs from natural history, such as the deer, the eagle, or the peacock. However, the book is intended not so much as a dictionary of such symbols from nature, but more as a grammar. Most of the symbols used in early Byzantine art, and especially the motifs from nature, had a wide variety of meanings, which could change according to the contexts in which the symbols appeared. The polyvalence of the symbols used by artists makes it difficult to compile a "dictionary" of their meanings, just as it would be a hard task to compile a dictionary of the metaphorical images employed by Byzantine writers. Instead, my approach has been to take one context in which images from nature frequently occurred in art-that is, portrayals of the terrestrial world-and to determine the patterns of thought associated with this particular subject with the help of literary texts. Once the "grammatical" structures associated with any given context have been analyzed, it becomes possible to pinpoint the meanings of individual symb.ols with more precision. My aim has been to use patristic texts not so much as quarries for meanings of individual motifs, but rather as constructions revealing the ways in which groups of symbols were combined to interpret a particular theme. Some readers may ask whether it is legitimate to assume that the logic connecting the motifs was necessarily the same in the visual and in the written documents. There are two principal factors that can give weight to hypotheses of this kind. The first factor would be that image and text came from the same milieu. Unfortunately, in the early Byzantine period it is not often that we can match a work ofart with a text known to have been produced at precisely the same time and place, because the accidents of survival have rendered our evidence too sporadic; only a small proportion of the original works of art and literature survives. However, so far as the texts are concerned, we can say that those that have survived were in many cases the most highly regarded and the most widely known, even if the same cannot as often be said of the preserved works of art. But there is a second factor that can give credence in hypothetical relationships between works of art and literature: The more complicated the pattern of motifs repeated in text and image, the greater the likelihood that a similar pattern of meanings underlies them. A coincidence of one or two motifs might be considered to be accidental, but when a larger number of motifs coincide, it becomes more reasonable to propose that a common structure of meanings may be expressed by them. Those who study symbolism in Early Christian art (and in medieval art as a whole) are sometimes accused of making subjective interpretations because, even if texts are used as a guide, the great wealth of Early Christian literature makes a variety of interpretations possible. The suspicion arises that scholars are able to pick and choose at random among the texts to support any explanation of an image that they care to offer. However, the association of texts with images does not have to be an arbitrary process so long as there are objective criteria, such as affinity in provenance and complexity of correspondence, by which the relevance of a particular text to a particular image can be assessed. I have tried to find the closest pairings that the surviving evidence can provide. Nevertheless, this book is offered to readers in the hope that it may stimulate a search for better matches, which may eventually improve upon the hypotheses presented here.

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I

The Language of Symbols

BYZANTINE REACTIONS TO ANIMALS AND PLANTS IN CHRISTIAN ART

J

UST as today some art historians like to read symbolic meanings wherever they can, while others favor a more literal approach,' so in the early Byzantine period there were those who could accept animals and plants as Christian symbols, while others could see in them no religious significance whatsoever. One of the latter group was St. Nil us of Sinai, who in the early fifth century wrote a letter to a Byzantine official about to construct a church. The official had proposed to decorate his church with "all kinds of animal hunts," with "nets being lowered into the sea, and every kind of fish being caught," and with "the pictures of different birds and beasts, reptiles and plants." St. Nilus made it very clear that he considered such decoration to be earthbound and a distraction from the higher verities: "I say that it would be childish and infantile to distract the eyes of the faithful with the previously mentioned [subjects]." Instead, the saint proposed that the building should be adorned with a single cross at its eastern end, and with scenes from the Old and the New Testaments on the walls, "so that the illiterate ... may, by contemplating the pictures, become mindful of the manly virtues of those who have genuinely served the true God, and may be stirred to match those famous and glorious feats, through which they were released from earth to heaven, having preferred what is unseen to what is seen. " 2 Evidently St. Nilus felt that the creatures and plants depicted in Early Christian churches had no Christian meaning at all. They may not even have been suitable subjects for the floors of churches. St. Nilus was not alone in his views, for at the time that he wrote, in the late fourth and early fifth centuries, the designers of floor mosaics showed a taste for austerity; many

6

EARTH AND OCEAN

church pavements of this period were purely geometric and scrupulously avoided the variety of plant and animal life that often was to adorn the floors of the later fifth and the sixth centuries. 3 Even in this later period, when the vogue for animal imagery in churches was at its height, there were writers who spoke out against representations of this kind. Some even objected to the portrayal of the Holy Ghost as a dove. John Diakrinomenos, in the late fifth century, said that "it is an infantile act to represent the most-holy and venerable Ghost in the likeness of a dove, seeing that the text of the Gospel teaches not that the Holy Ghost became a dove, but that it was once seen in the form of a dove, and that since this happened only once by reason of dispensation and not essentially, it was in no way fitting for believers to make for it a bodily likeness. " 4 Clearly John Diakrinomenos was unwilling to interpret the dove in Christian art as a symbol or a metaphor for the Holy Ghost. He was only willing to interpret the bird literally, as an earthly creature with feathers. Another who shared his opinion was Severus, the patriarch of Antioch from 512 to 518, who was accused by his opponents of melting down the gold and silver doves that hung above the fonts and altars, "saying that the Holy Ghost should not be designated in the form of a dove. " 5 At a later date, in the eighth and ninth centuries, portrayals of creatures and plants fell into disfavor because they were associated by the orthodox with the iconoclasts. The proponents of icons accused the iconoclastic emperors of removing the images of Christ and his saints and replacing them with birds, beasts, and herbage. Some of the most colorful passages of invective come from the Life of St. Stephen the Younger, written by the deacon Stephen in 8o6: "The Tyrant [Constantine V] scraped down the venerable church of the all-pure mother of God at the Blachernae, whose walls had previously been decorated with pictures of God's coming down to us . . . . Having thus suppressed all of Christ's mysteries, he converted the church into a store-house of fruit and an aviary: for he covered it with mosaics [representing] trees and all kinds of birds and beasts, and certain swirls of ivy-leaves [enclosing] cranes, crows and peacocks, thus making the church, if I may say so, altogether unadorned. " 6 Elsewhere, Stephen complains that "wherever there were venerable images of Christ or the Mother of God or the Saints, these were consigned to the flames [by the iconoclasts] or were gouged out or smeared over. If, on the other hand, there were pictures of trees or birds or senseless beasts . . . these were preserved with honor and given greater luster. " 7 The well-known eighty-second canon of the Quinisext Council, held in 692, foreshadowed this opposition to animal imagery on the part of the supporters of icons. The canon decreed that Christ should be depicted in human form "in place of the ancient lamb," so that viewers might thereby be reminded of "His life in the flesh. " 8 This passage shows that by the late seventh century the use of animal symbols to represent Christ could carry the taint of monophysitism, even though the monophysite Severus had earlier objected to the Holy Spirit being represented as a dove. The texts that we have reviewed so far have all condemned the use of imagery from natural history in churches. There are, however, many texts that present another viewpoint and describe portrayals of animals and plants with approval. 9 The majority of these texts are ekphraseis, rhetorical descriptions of buildings or works of art that were composed according to certain literary conventions. One convention was always to praise the subject of the description; for this reason the ekphraseis are intrinsically unlikely to provide any negative comments about the imagery from nature contained in churches. Another convention of the ekphraseis was for the writers to use a language and critical perspective derived from late antique secular rhetoric. This meant that when they praised the motifs depicted by artists it was more often for their grace and realism than for their potential for Christian meaning. For example, in his

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7

account of the church of St. Sergius at Gaza, the sixth-century author Choricius describes a mosaic of birds in a vine rinceau growing from a vase; he does not talk about the symbolism of the birds, or even of the vine, but instead he says that the birds were so artistically portrayed that they might be imagined to sing. 10 When the same author describes the portrayal of the Nile, together with its bird life, on the walls of St. Stephen in Gaza, he merely terms this a "joyful" sight. II Nevertheless, if we consider his passage on the fruits portrayed in the upper parts of the church of St. Sergius, we may wonder whether Choricius was not conscious of the symbolic potential of the images from natural history that he described. Characteristically, he expressed himself through a quotation from classical literature when he spoke of "pear trees, pomegranate trees and apple trees bearing bright fruit, blossoming in all seasons alike, neither wishing to yield to winter nor lacking the fruit of rain [in summer). Thus it is possible for us to rival the king of the Phaeacians. " I 2 Here Choricius referred to the orchard of the mythical palace of Alcinous, which Homer described in the Odyssey, where "the fruit perishes not nor fails in winter nor in summer, but lasts throughout the year. " I 3 But even though Choricius chose his quotation from a pre-Christian author, it is possible that he intended to show us that he saw the ever-ripe fruits depicted in the church as images of Paradise, where there is fruit in all seasons. As we shall see in chapter II, the notion of a temperate and seasonless Paradise was a commonplace among Christian writers. If the Byzantine ekphraseis go no further than to hint at symbolic meanings, the works of art themselves provide strong evidence that some people, at least, were willing to invest certain animal and plant motifs with Christian significance. As we shall see, in many cases inscriptions provide incontrovertible evidence of this. Even without inscriptions, we can point to instances in which church authorities apparently replaced one type of animal composition with another considered more meaningful, or more appropriate to a Christian context, as Jean-Pierre Sodini has recently shown. I 4 For example, the floor of a circular baptistery at Butrinto, in Albania, was covered with a mosaic that depicted a wide variety of plants, fishes, birds, and beasts (both wild and domestic); these creatures were framed by medallions, which were linked together to form circular chains. At some time not very long after the composition of the original mosaic, which may have been effected in the sixth century, the chains of medallions were abruptly interrupted by two inserted designs that were placed on the axis of the entrance. One of the inserted designs shows birds, including two peacocks, pecking at vine stems growing from a central cantharos (fig. r). IS Since the surrounding floor does not show excessive signs of wear, it appears possible that this design was inserted for iconographic reasons rather than to effect a repair. The vase, the peacocks, and the vine could have been put in by a person who considered these motifs more meaningful in a baptistery than the apparently random assortment of plants and creatures that had made up the original pattern for the floor. It will be remembered that when the orator Choricius saw the same motifs of the cantharos and the birds in the vine in the church of St. Sergius at Gaza, he only spoke of the lifelike qualities of the birds. However, if these motifs were inserted at Butrinto for iconographic reasons, the person responsible may have had more on his mind than mere verisimilitude. A similar example of the substitution of more meaningful, or more "charged," motifs for subjects of lesser significance is provided by a sixth-century pavement in the south aisle of Basilica C at Nea Anchialos, in Greece. 16 In this case, a fountain, which was flanked by two symmetrically placed stags and two birds, was superimposed onto a previously existing design of octagons and quatrefoils containing a variety of sea creatures, birds, and fruits. The insertion is similar both technically and stylistically to the preexisting floor, which suggests that the alteration was made not long after the setting of the original mosaic. 17 Here again we seem to

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have a case in which some motifs from natural history-namely, the stags and the birds flanking the fountain-were deemed more appropriate than others in a Christian context.

THE POLYVALENCE OF IMAGES Most of the images from natural history that appear in early Byzantine art were not like modern traffic signs, with necessarily fixed and invariable messages, but, as I have already suggested, they were more akin to metaphors. The meanings of any given image, an eagle, for example, or a fish, could be nuanced or even completely altered according to the context provided by a given work of art, just as words in a language can change their meanings in different situations. ' 8 Also, like words in a language, the images employed by artists could change their meanings over the course of time. The literature of the Early Christian church provides bountiful interpretations for most of the images from nature used by Byzantine artists; one might say that, from the art historian's point of view, the literary interpretations are too plentiful, for there is often a problem in determining which particular meaning an artist had in mind at a particular time. In the texts we often find that a multitude of images can represent one concept, or different aspects of one concept. A well-known example is the early Byzantine Akathistos hymn, of uncertain authorship, which addresses the Virgin through a long series of metaphors: She is a star, the dawn, and lightning; she is a tree, a vine, and a flower; she is an ocean, a harbor, and a boat; she is a vessel, a basin, and a bowl; she is a bastion, a wall, and a tower; she is a throne, a table, and a chariot; she is a diadem, a crown, and a robe. ' 9 The number of potential images is only limited by the poet's imagination. Similar sequences of images can be found in other early Byzantine hymns. In his kontakion On the Adoration of the Cross, for example, the sixth-century poet Romanos described the cross as a root, a lance, a door, a shepherd's crook, a plow, a winnowing fan, an oar, and an altar. 20 Nor was it only poets who composed such sequences of metaphors to describe a single person or object, for we can find a similar richness of imagery in early Byzantine prose. For example, in a discourse on Athanasius of Alexandria, the fourth-century church father Gregory of Nazianzus successively described him as a horn of salvation, a keystone, a purifying fire, a winnowing fan, and as a sword cutting off the roots of vice. 2 ' It was natural for the patristic writers to employ several images to describe one concept, for they realized that the concepts that they wished to express were too complex to be rendered satisfactorily by one image alone. The best that they could hope to do was to express a certain aspect of an idea with a given image, and to use other images to express other aspects. There is an interesting passage in the Fifth Theological Oration by Gregory of N azianzus in which he discusses the difficulty of using images from the physical world to express divine concepts. Since this text has a considerable bearing on the significance of such imagery in art, it is worth quoting at some length. St. Gregory is speaking of the Trinity: "For my part," he says, I have reflected a great deal with myself ... looking for an image for so great a reality, and I have not known to what among earthly things below one should compare the divine nature. Even if I find a little resemblance, the greater part escapes me, and leaves me down below with my example. I have imagined-as others have also-a source, a stream, and a river, to see if there is an analogy between the source and the Father, the stream and the Son, and the river and the Holy Spirit. But I was

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9

afraid, in the first place, to suggest by this comparison some kind of outflowing of the Divinity, which would exclude stability; I was afraid in the second place to introduce through this comparison the idea of the oneness of the person, because the source, the stream, and the river are a single thing which takes various forms. 22 St. Gregory goes on to say that he had also thought of using the sun, the ray, and light as images of the Trinity, "but here, too, there is cause for fear. " 23 After rejecting these images also as unsatisfactory, he finally concludes: "In brief, there is no fixed point for my thought when I look for the concept I have in mind in the examples, unless one takes with circumspection a single trait from the image, and rejects the rest. " 24 St. Gregory of Nazianzus, therefore, was aware that it was impossible to have a one-to-one relationship of concept to image. If images were to be used at all, they could only reveal part of each concept. The logical consequence of this view was a piece of literature such as the Akathistos, in which a great number of images are used to present as many aspects of the subject as possible. If many images could be used to represent various aspects of one concept in early Byzantine literature, we also find that the reverse holds true: One image could represent several concepts, according to the contexts in which it was employed. We have already seen an example of this; in the hymn by Romanos the idea of the root is associated with the cross, while in the sermon on Athanasius by Gregory of Nazianzus it is linked with sin. In the works of some authors, an image could be used in opposite senses in adjoining passages; for example, in step .25 of his Heavenly Ladder, John Climacus used the waterspout as a symbol of humility, while a few pages later, in step 26, it became a symbol of pride. 25 There were, of course, precedents for such changes of meaning in the Bible itself, where many of the images from nature change or extend their significance according to the passages in which they occur. When these biblical images found their way into the Early Christian literature, they brought their variety of meanings with them. An obvious example is the vine, which represents God's people, or Israel, in Psalm 79, verse 8 and in Hosea I o: I, but which is first an image of Christ, and then of his people, in the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of John, verses 1-7. Likewise, the vineyard . represents the people of Israel in the fifth chapter oflsaiah, verses 1-7, but in Christ's parable it becomes the Kingdom of God (Matthew 2I:3'3-43). At this point it is legitimate to ask whether it is necessary or meaningful to enquire into the specific meanings of the pictographic images employed by Early Christian artists. There was certainly one school of thought in late antiquity which held that pictographic images could not be subjected to rational analysis. Plotinus, for example, wrote of the hieroglyphics employed by the ancient Egyptians: "Each image was a kind of understanding and wisdom and reality, given all at once, and not a process of reasoning and deliberation. " 26 However, there is no doubt that Early Christian artists, or their patrons, were in many cases interested in providing a rationale for the images they displayed. This is evident from inscriptions attached to the motifs. From such inscriptions we discover that in art, just as in literature, a single image such as the vine can be given several different but specific meanings according to the contexts in which it appears. Conversely, a single concept can also be represented by several different images. 27 The first point can be proved by three Early Christian floor mosaics, each of which portrays a vine, and each of which has an inscription suggesting that its designer desired to emphasize a particular aspect of vine symbolism. The first mosaic was discovered in a Christian tomb in Ancona (fig. 2). 28 It displays a scrolling vine, which grows from a central cantharos. At the top of the vine is an inscription that paraphrases the first verse of the fifth chapter of Isaiah: "A vineyard has been made beloved, on a hilltop in a fertile place. " 29 The choice of this inscription

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for the mosaic indicates that in the designer's mind the primary significance of the vine was the people of God. 30 Our second vine mosaic with an inscription was discovered in the nave of a basilica at Kato Paphos-Chrysopolitissa in Cyprus (fig. 3). 3 ' Here the vine plant is accompanied by the words "I am the true vine," which quote just the opening words of the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of John. 32 In this mosaic, then, the primary apparent reference of the vine is to Christ in person. Our third example comes from a funerary chapel at Gerasa, where the eastern end of the nave pavement displays a vine growing from a central cantharos, in front of the sanctuary (fig. 4). 33 In the center of the scrolling stems of the vine, just above the vessel, an inscription explains that the mosaic, and possibly also the building, were given by the founder: "For the salvation of my father and my mother with [a service of] thanksgiving (meta eucharistias) ... " 34 The phrase "meta eucharistias" brings to mind another potential significance of the vine, namely, the wine of the communion service. Of course, each of the three meanings suggested by the inscriptions on these mosaics overlaps to some extent with the others, but the inscriptions do reveal that each designer consciously wished to express a different facet of the complex symbolism of the vine. Just as one image could be given different meanings, or nuances of meaning, in different works of art, so also varying aspects of one concept, such as Christ, could be portrayed through a variety of symbols. To take an obvious example, at Paphos Christ was shown as a vine, but in other contexts early Byzantine artists might portray Him as a lamb (see figs. 5, 7, and 88). The three floor mosaics at Ancona, Paphos, and Gerasa are somewhat unusual in that they have inscriptions that suggest their intended meanings. Generally the images from nature surviving so profusely in Early Christian art are not accompanied by explanatory texts. So the viewer is faced with a repeated problem of interpretation: which, if any, of the potential meanings of a polyvalent motif did the designer of a particular work have in mind? Did he wish one meaning to have precedence, or did he intend an ambiguity of meaning, in which every potential interpretation of the image could receive equal weight? Sometimes, but by no means always, the Byzantine designer indicated by visual means that he wished to give priority to a particular meaning or meanings. We shall see in later chapters that personifications were often included as pointers to the symbolism of works of art. In some cases, too, the context or the composition makes the primary significance of a symbol plain. Often, however, there is considerable room for doubt.

AMBIVALENCE AND AMBIGUITY The potential for ambiguity of many symbolic images in early Byzantine art increases the problems of interpretation for the present-day viewer. Although some scholars have recognized that the symbols employed by Early Christian artists could carry several distinct meanings at the same time, with no priority being given to one particular meaning over the others, 35 the ambiguity of much Early Christian iconography has not always been given the recognition it deserves, partly perhaps because modern academics have tended to be unhappy with uncertainties of meaning, preferring to look for solutions that are more clear-cut and precise. 36 However, one only has to look at Byzantine literature of all kinds to see that the Byzantines themselves welcomed ambiguity of expression; indeed they cultivated it. In this they followed the instruction of the second-century Greek orator Hermogenes, whose attributed writings were the

THE LANGUAGE OF SYMBOLS

II

cornerstone of Byzantine education in rhetoric, and who discussed ambiguity and double meanings, especially as a way of handling delicate situations. 37 In analyzing the symbolism of early Byzantine art, it is useful to make a distinction between two methods of creating multiple meanings, which may be termed ambivalence and ambiguity. In the first method, which I am calling ambivalence, a given image is repeated two or more times, but it carries a different meaning with each repetition. This linear repetition of a symbol with changing meanings can be compared to the rhetorical figure that the ancients called antanaklasis, that is, the repetition of a word in two different senses. As an example of antanaklasis Quintilian gives the phrase "Amari iucundum est, si curetur ne quid insit amari," which one might very roughly translate as "to be dear to someone can be pleasant, if one takes care that the cost is not too dear. " 38 For an equivalent of this figure in the language of metaphor, we can turn to a passage in the first Hymn on the Nativity by Romanos, in which the poet describes Mary receiving the Three Kings: "She opens the door and welcomes the cortege of the Magi; she opens the door, she who is the unopenable gate, through which only Christ has passed ... she opened the door, she, the door from whom was born the door, the little Child, God before the ages. " 39 Here the repeated image of the door is in turn the actual stable door, then a metaphor for the virginity of Mary, and finally a metaphor for Christ himself. The organization of the images can be compared to a jeweled necklace, in which the same stone is repeated in linear sequence along a chain, but at each repetition it reflects the light in a different way. In the second method of using symbols to create multiple meanings-ambiguity-an image needs only to be presented once, but it is still intended to carry a double sense. This results in an intensification and concentration of the image's significance, since the image might appear only a single time. For an example in literature, we can turn to a passage of the sixth-century poem In praise ofJustin II by Corippus, in which the poet uses the single image of a shepherd to draw a subtle parallel between the emperor and Christ: "According to the manner of rulers, he Uustin II] tended his own servants and aided and protected them. Like a farsighted shepherd ... he brings together the lambs, calling them all by well known names; when they hear his voice they follow and recognize their master, and baa into the air and greedily take the green grass which he has brought. " 40 In these lines the shepherd image has the potential to describe not only Justin II but also Christ, the Good Shepherd; Corippus makes the second interpretation possible for his hearers by quoting the very words of the parable in the Gospel of John (ro:3f.)Y By using the shepherd image a single time to refer at once to the emperor and to Christ, the poet creates a delicate link between the two; the ambiguity of the image helps the orator to hint at what would have been difficult to say openly. In art, just as in literature, we can distinguish between ambiguity created by individual images and ambivalence created by repeated images. When repeated images have been employed, the Byzantine artist's intention to express multiple meanings is much more obvious to the modern viewer. A good example of such linear ambivalence is provided by a silver reliquary found in a church at Henchir Zirara, in Algeria, and which possibly dates to the sixth centuryY On one side of the oval box we find a frieze of nine nearly identical lambs. The animals are arranged all on the same level in two files of four that approach a central lamb, marked only by a cross above its back and by the turn of its head (fig. 5). Each of the flanking rows of lambs emerges from the door of an arcaded basilica. The central lamb must represent Christ, while the flanking lambs represent his flock; the two basilicas may signify that the sheep come from the church of Jerusalem and the church of the Gentiles, respectively. 43 The repetition of the same symbol to represent first the Lord and then his followers expresses a number of paradoxical ideas current in Early Christian writing and ultimately goes back to Christ's own

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words as recorded in the Gospel: "The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" Oohn ro:II). Gregory ofNazianzus, for example, wrote of Christ: "He is 'shepherd' as the leader of his flock .... He is 'sheep' as the sacrificial victim. " 44 On the reliquary Christ is seen not as a shepherd but at one and the same time as the central leader of his flock and as the sacrificial lamb, while the lambs imitate the sacrifice of their leader. 45 It is much more difficult for viewers today to be certain of the intentions of Byzantine artists with respect to the second meth{)d of creating multiple meanings-through the use of an individual image. However, we can be sure that in some instances Byzantine viewers did give multiple meanings to isolated symbols. This is evident, for example, from a sixth-century description by John of Gaza of a painting of the universe in a bathhouse of his city, which apparently contained at its center a golden cross set against three concentric circles of blue. 46 We can visualize the central motif by referring to the Justinianic basilica at Mount Sinai, where a golden cross set against three circles of different shades of blue can be seen above the head of Christ in the mosaic of the apse (fig. 6). 47 John described the background of the cross that he saw as follows: "The auspicious image (typos) of the spiritual Trinity surrounds [the cross] with dark blue whirls; it [the Trinity] is inscribed in circles which are like a representation of the celestial sphere (polou). And inside it is possible to observe the holy brightness of both arms [of the cross]. " 48 John of Gaza therefore saw the three blue circles in this painting not only as symbols of the Trinity but also as a representation of the heavenly sphere; in other words, they conveyed to him two different concepts at the same time. His reaction is reminiscent of that of Paul the Silentiary, who described the possibly cross-shaped monogram of Justinian and Theodora as "one sign that means many stories. " 49 This type of ambiguity, in which a single motif can be charged with more than one distinct meaning, is in some respects better suited to the visual arts than to literature, for in writing the syntax will often require the repetition of the image in association with each new meaning, whereas in art the expression can be more compressed. But such ambiguity of expression raises considerable problems for the art historian who is faced with the task of interpreting early Byzantine monuments. There is always the question of whether a designer intended a given motif to express one concept only, or whether he wished it to be ambiguous; and if the designer did not intend ambiguity, which one of the possible meanings did he have in mind? Such difficulties of interpretation are accentuated when ambiguity and ambivalence may have been combined in one work of art; that is, when double meanings can arise both from individual images and from repeated images. A case in point is the apse mosaic of the church of SS. Cosmas and Damian in Rome, which dates to the early Justinianic period. 50 At the base of this apse we can see a lamb, with a halo around his head, standing on a hill from which flow the four streams of Paradise and flanked by six sheep on either side (fig. 7). Here the lamb and the sheep create a linear ambivalence somewhat similar to that found on the reliquary from Henchir Zirara (fig. 5); the Lamb of God stands on Mount Zion (Revelations I4:r) over the springs of living water (Revelation TI7 and 22:1-2), while the sheep on either side represent the flock of the Lamb. Through the similarity of the symbols employed for Christ and his followers, the viewer understands the sacrifices of the leader and of his flock. So much seems clear, but the design leaves the viewer in doubt concerning the precise identities of the sheep that make up the flock; on this point, indeed, the mosaic appears to give mixed signals. The number of the sheep-twelve-suggests that they should be apostles. 51 On the other hand, the fact that the six animals on the right emerge from a city labeled "Bethlehem," while the six animals on the restored left side emerge from "Jerusa-

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13

lem," suggests another meaning: the flocks coming out of the churches of Jerusalem and of the Gentiles. 52 Bethlehem, because of the visit of the three Magi, was considered as the type of the Church of the Gentiles. 53 The sheep flanking the lamb therefore can be seen as examples of ambiguity. If the viewer associates any one of them with its eleven companions, it can be interpreted as an apostle. On the other hand, if the animal is associated with the city from which it emerged, it becomes a Jew or a Gentile. It is not clear from the mosaic whether the designer intended to give priority to one or the other interpretation of the flanking sheep, or whether he intended both at the same time.

POTENTIAL AND INTENDED SYMBOLISM In the case of John of Gaza and the painting of the cross set against blue circles, we saw that a Byzantine beholder read two different meanings into the same motif But his interpretation still leaves open the question of whether the designer who created the picture consciously intended his viewers to read the circles in that way, or whether he had some other significance in mind. In studying Byzantine art, as well as the art of other cultures, it is useful to make a distinction between potential and intended symbolism, for the meanings that the designer had in mind were not necessarily the same ones that viewers, even contemporary Byzantine viewers, might give to the work. 54 The coinage of Justin II gave rise to a well-known instance of a Byzantine audience changing the meaning of an image from that intended by its designer. On the reverse of the gold solidi of this emperor there was a figure of Constantinople in the form of a seated woman. 55 This female personification was a classical motif, which had not been employed on the coinage since the fifth century. 56 Unfortunately, the general populace associated the lady on the coins with the goddess Aphrodite, 57 so that in the following reign of Tiberi us II the offending personification was replaced by a more readily understandable cross. 58 Another instance of misunderstanding on the part of the viewer concerns an early medieval writer who mistook a mosaic of the four seasons with their appropriate fruits for portrayals of prophets with symbolic attributes. In the ninth century Liber Ponti.ficalis of Naples, there is a curious description of an apse mosaic in a basilica constructed by Bishop Severus, who was in office from 363 until 409/Io. We are told that the apse portrayed the Savior sitting with the twelve apostles, while underneath there were four prophets: Isaiah's attribute of an olive crown designated the Nativity of Christ and the perpetual virginity of Mary, the Mother of God; Jeremiah, through his offering of grapes, prefigured the virtue of Christ and the glory of the Passion; Daniel, carrying ears of grain, announced the Second Coming of the Lord, in which all the good and the wicked are gathered together for judgment; finally, Ezechias proffered roses and lilies in his hands, announcing the kingdom ofheaven to the faithful, for in roses the blood of the martyrs is expressed and in lilies the perseverance of confessors. 59 There can be little doubt that the four figures described here were intended by their designer to portray the seasons. 60 Their attributes of olives, grapes, ears of grain, and roses with lilies signify the seasons of winter, autumn, summer, and spring in countless works of late Roman and Early Christian art; for example, the same sequence of fruits and flowers can be seen in the wreath surrounding the bust of St. Victor in the center of the fifth-century mosaic that adorns the ceiling of his chapel attached to the basilica of St. Ambrose in Milan. 61 However, the ninth-century chronicler evidently no longer understood the late antique iconography of the seasons; he misidentified the four personifications as prophets and found ingenious and com-

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plex Christian explanations for their attributes-explanations that certainly had not been intended by the Early Christian designer of the mosaic. The meanings a designer projected onto a motif could therefore differ considerably from the meanings given to it by a viewer. In this book I shall attempt to discover the conscious intentions of designers, rather than the various interpretations that might have been made by anyone who saw their works. My primary concern will be with the creation of works of art rather than with their afterlife among the populace at large. A final point that needs to be raised is the question of what is meant by the word "designer" in speaking of the works of art to be discussed in this book. Many of the surviving portrayals of the terrestrial world in early Byzantine art are in the medium of floor mosaics, and in the case of floor mosaics there is increasing evidence that a distinction has to be made between designers, who created the compositions, and craftsmen, who set the cubes according to instructions or drawings they had received from someone else. There are indications of such a division of labor from all periods of ancient floor mosaics. From the third century B. c. we have a papyrus containing instructions for the laying of a pavement in a bathhouse, which specifies that the craftsman is to follow a cartoon provided by the royal palace. 62 Several Roman and Early Christian mosaics bear inscriptions that distinguish between the designers of the mosaics and the executors of the designs. For example, an inscription attached to a late fifth- or early sixth-century mosaic of the months at Thebes in Greece is especially clear in the distinctions it makes: Demetrios thought up the design, while Epiphanes merely executed it. 63 Sometimes the craftsman and the designer could be one and the same person, while on other occasions the designer could also be the patron. In a North African mosaic of the third century A.D. found near Enfidaville in Tunisia, a mosaicist proclaims, not without pride, that he carried out his somewhat ill-drawn work "sine pictore," that is, "without a painter" to design the composition. 64 Likewise, in a damaged inscription attached to a mosaic of Lycurgus found at Trikkala in Greece, we appear to find two workmen congratulating themselves for both setting the stones and drawing the design. 65 As for the patron, the detailed letter written by Paulinus of Nola in 403, which described the apses he was decorating in his churches at Nola and Fundi, leaves little doubt that he designed the iconographic programs himself, at least in the sense of selecting and arranging the motifs that were to be portrayed. 66 An interesting sixth-century inscription found at Apamea, in Syria, implies that an educated patron could also interest himself in the design of a floor. In the southeast angle of the cathedral ofthat city, the excavators discovered a fine mosaic displaying a variety of animals and vessels set into square and rectangular frames. 67 At the center of this composition is a medallion containing the inscription: "This mosaic, with its variegated stones (poikilen psephida), is presented by Paul, who has a variegated understanding (poikilophron) of the dogmas from on high. 68 The Paul of the inscription was the Bishop of Apamea, who may have been the composer of this dedication and perhaps also the person who selected the motifs for the mosaic. Certainly whoever wrote the inscription was a learned man, as is attested by its play on words (poikilen psephida-poikilophron), and by the extreme rarity of the word poikilophron, which had been used by Euripides to describe Odysseus in his tragedy Hecuba. 69 The evidence that we have reviewed indicates that the designers ofboth wall and floor mosaics were frequently not the same individuals as the mosaicists who actually set the cubes. Sometimes the designers were artists, who had composed pictures that were later set in stones by the craftsmen. At other times the designers were learned patrons, who had selected the motifs that were to be portrayed and had even stipulated their arrangement. This division between the design of mosaics and their setting had several important consequences. It meant, first, that there

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15

could be a disjunction between the conception of a mosaic and its manner of execution. The designer, especially if he were an educated patron, might have sophisticated ideas in mind, but the craftsmen who set the mosaic might be relatively lacking in skill. Hence a mosaic that is sophisticated in its content need not necessarily be sophisticated in its technique. A second consequence of the division between the roles of designer and craftsman has to do with the choice and arrangement of images in the mosaics of a single workshop. A patron with a fondness for complex symbolism might use the repertoire of a given· workshop to make complicated allegories. But another patron, or perhaps the craftsmen themselves, if they were left to their own devices, might use the same repertoire of motifs in a much less consciously structured way. We shall see in chapter IV, for example, that one group of craftsmen working in the sixth century in Libya could produce both highly organized and also much more informal compositions, according to the demands of their patrons. 70 In the nave of the Cathedral of Cyrene, these workmen set a floor containing an assortment of plants, birds, beasts, and rustic scenes that do not appear to form a purposefully unified composition; in their totality they may have been intended to represent no more than God's earth in its literal sense. 7 ' But in the nave of the East Church at Qasr-el-Lebia, the same group of craftsmen used a similar repertoire of motifs, with the addition of some personifications, to create a unified mosaic intended to express a number of highly sophisticated allegories (figs. 52-63). 72 Here they were presumably following the instructions of a learned patron. One cannot argue, therefore, that because one mosaic by a given atelier does not have a deeply thought-out program the same will hold true for all other mosaics by the same workshop. We must expect some mosaics to have more of an intellectual "structure" than others, according to the preoccupations of their designers. And we must be prepared to find richness of thought allied to poverty of execution, just as a mosaic executed in a sumptuous technique may be relatively empty of intellectual content.

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II

The Literal Sense

THE TEXTUAL TRADITION

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UST as Early Christian artists often illustrated motifs drawn from the world of nature, such as animals, plants, and seasons, so, too, Early Christian writers loved to describe the variety of Creation, especially in sermons and commentaries on the Hexaemeron, or the first six days of the world. The Hexaemeron literature of the early centuries of the Church is a rich source of information on the imagery drawn from nature by Early Christian artists and on its potential meanings; but, surprisingly, art historians have not yet fully related these texts to the visual arts. The four chapters that follow will consider the sermons and commentaries on the first six days of Creation as an aid to understanding nature imagery in Early Christian art. This chapter will be concerned only with those authors who gave an absolutely literal interpretation of the events described in the first chapter of Genesis, and with the works of art that correspond to their viewpoint. The most extreme proponents of the literal interpretation took their stance in opposition to the third-century writer Origen, who had made the Creation story into a complex chain of allegories. A prominent opponent of Origen in the fourth century was St. Epiphanius, a bishop of Salamis in Cyprus, who wrote: "In the beginning God made heaven and earth, which-are not to be taken allegorically, but can actually be seen. And scripture says [that he made] the firmament, and the sea, plants, trees, pasture, grass, animals, fish, birds, and all the rest which, as we can see, in actual truth came into being."' The good bishop warns against making complicated allegories from these elements of Creation: "Do not, therefore, expend more labor than you should on the gifts of God, which are given by His grace to man. " 2 Epiphanius also says that he knows the description of Paradise in Genesis to be literally true, because he himself

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EARTH AND OCEAN

has seen one of the four rivers after it had left Paradise and has actually drunk the water from another: "I saw the waters of Gehon [the Nile),3 waters which I gazed at with these bodily eyes . . . . And I simply drank the waters from the great river Euphrates, which you can touch with your hands and sip with your lips; these are no spiritual waters. " 4 Epiphanius's reference to spiritual waters alludes to the allegories of Origen, who had interpreted the "waters above the firmament" of Genesis r :7 as spiritual or celestial waters, to which Christians should aspire, as opposed to the waters below, which represent the forces of darkness. Origen had written: And just as the firmament has been called heaven, because it separates the waters that are above it from the waters which are below, so man, housed in a body, if he can separate and distinguish the superior waters which are "above the firmament" and those which are "below the firmament" will be himself called heaven, that is to say "heavenly man," according to the words of the Apostle Paul: "Our commonwealth is in the heavens" [cf. I Corinthians 15:47; Philippians 3:20] . . . . Let each one of you, then, take pains to become one who separates the water that is on high from that which is below, in order to reach the intelligence of and the participation in the spiritual water "which is above the firmament" and to make flow "from his heart rivers of the water of life spouting until eternal life" Uohn 7:38 and 4:14], and to be distanced and separated from the water below, that is to say from the water of the abyss, where scripture places the darkness .... Thus participating in the superior water which is above the heavens, each of the faithful becomes heavenly: that is to say, he keeps his spirit in lofty and elevated things, and does not have any of his thoughts on the earth, but all in the heaven. 5 Epiphanius of Salamis rejected these allegories completely. The waters above the firmament must actually have existed, he claims, or how else would the flood have been possible? 6 Another writer of the fourth century who spoke out against the allegorization of Creation was the Syriac author St. Ephrem, who lived in Edessa in northern Mesopotamia. Speaking of the first chapter of Genesis, Ephrem said: "By heaven and earth he means the very heaven and the very earth. Let no man then suppose that there are allegories on the work of the six days: neither may one say that ... the names are empty ones, or that other things are intimated to us by the names. " 7 We find similar sentiments in the commentary on the Hexaemeron composed by the Greek church father St. Gregory of Nyssa in 381. At the conclusion of his treatise Gregory explained to his brother Peter, who had requested the work, that, "in making these responses to the questions which you, in your sagacity, put to me, I have distorted none of the written word into figurative allegory ... but, as far as possible, I have left the word in its own sense. " 8 One of the finest fourth-century descriptions of the created world is contained in the second Theological Oration that St. Gregory of Nazianzus delivered in Constantinople in the year 3 8o. 9 This description of the cosmos is not so much a commentary on the beginning of Genesis as a general celebration of nature through which the magnificence of God reveals itself. However, Gregory's work is similar to many sermons and commentaries on the six days of Creation in that he catalogues the handiwork of God, describing each of its divisions in turn. The general theme that runs through the descriptions is that God is known through his works; Gregory compares the visible world to a well-made and well-tuned lute (kithara), which has been adorned with the greatest beauty. If one listens to the sounds it gives, one cannot fail to think

THE LITERAL SENSE

19

of the craftsman who made it and of the musician who plays it; one's thoughts will rise toward them, even if one does not know them by sight. So it is with the world and with God who made it. 10 Gregory, who truly delights in describing the delights of nature, starts with living things and discusses them in the reverse order of their creation. First he wonders at the nature of humanity and at the construction of the human body. From humans he passes to the animals of the earth, noting how some are found in flocks, while others are single, some are herbivorous, others carnivorous, some fierce, others peaceful, some intelligent, others stupid, and so on. From the animals of the land Gregory moves to the creatures of the sea, their characters and their couplings, their births, their size, their beauty, their habitat, and their migrations. Next come the birds, and a discussion of their variety in form and color and song. Here we are treated to an elegant description of the peacock. Nor does St. Gregory forget the insects; he tells us of the activity and ingenuity of the bees and the spiders, "not to mention the treasures of the ants and their treasurers." He examines also the diversity of plants, the ingenious construction of their leaves, the variety and abundance of their fruit, their flowers, and their perfumes. From living things Gregory moves to the inanimate world. He wonders at the richness and colors of precious stones, and he describes the natural features of the earth, the beauty of the forests, the rivers, and the abundant springs, both of fresh water and of hot water from below the surface. Next he wonders at the landscapes of the plains and the mountains, how the one is more fertile for our utility and the other more agreeable by its diversity. Are not the mountains "the most visible sign of the grandeur of God?" Gregory passes on to consider the sea, its magnitude, its docility, its sands, and its boats. From the sea, the discourse rises upward to the air and to the sky and to what is above the sky. Gregory marvels at the atmospheric phenomena of wind, snow, ice, rain, thunder, lightning, and clouds; then he wonders at the stars, the moon, and the sun; then the seasons and the movement of the constellations. Finally, the oration ascends to "angels, archangels, thrones, dominions, principalities, and powers."" St. Gregory's remarkable description of the cosmos has two features that are relevant to an understanding of Early Christian works of art. The first is that a large proportion of the work is taken up by the creatures of earth, sea, and air, which are described before any other parts of the universe. We shall find that artists also liked to portray the diversity of Creation through its living things. The second feature to be noted is that nowhere does Gregory give a symbolic meaning to any element of Creation, animate or inanimate. He admires the various parts of Creation simply as wonders of God's handiwork. A completely literal approach to the Creation story can also be found in some writers of the fifth century. If, for example, we take the Questions on the Pentateuch, which was composed after 453 by Theodoret, the bishop of Cyrus near Antioch, we discover that for the most part the interpretation of the first chapter of Genesis keeps to the letter of the text. 12 In some places the bishop explicitly excludes an allegorical reading, as he does in response to the question: "What kind of spirit moved across the face of the water?" Theodoret explains that this spirit, which is mentioned in the second verse of Genesis, seems to some to have been the Holy Spirit, which vivified the nature of the waters, designating in some way the grace of baptism. But I think the more truthful explanation is that here [the scripture] is calling the air the spirit. For when it had said that [God] created heaven and earth [Genesis r:r], and had mentioned the waters under [the name of] the deep [Genesis r:2], by necessity it also made mention of the air, which extends from the surface of the water to heaven. ' 3

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Theodoret therefore rejects any allegorical interpretation of the spirit moving across the waters, such as a reference to baptism; it is the physical element of air, and no more. In the sixth century also, some authors were ready to reject any allegorical interpretations of the Creation. For example, Procopius of Gaza, when discussing the animals in his Commentaries on Genesis, called the allegorists not dissimilar to pagans, for they "think that they magnify the Holy Scriptures by inventing vain allegories for us, by which they confirm their own notions, but not Holy Scripture. " 14

THE BATHS AT GAZA AND ANTIOCH It is now time to turn to the created world in art; in the remainder of this chapter I shall look first at the various ways by which artists tried to encompass this tremendous subject, and then I will try to identify some visual portrayals of Earth and Ocean that correspond to the literal treatments of the Hexaemeron in texts. The artist who set out to portray all of Creation was faced with the problem of reducing this vast theme, whose variety and diversity were celebrated at such length by writers such as Gregory of Nazianzus, to manageable proportions, so that it could be portrayed within the limitations of space available to him. He had to achieve this feat while using the artistic vocabulary that he had inherited from his trade, whether he was a maker of floor mosaics, a wood or stone carver, or a weaver of textiles. Even if the artist restricted himself to portraying only the land and the sea, the task of illustrating their variety was a considerable one. In general, the early Byzantine artists solved the task in one of two ways. The first method was to use personifications, representing such divisions of the universe as Earth and Ocean. The second method was to indicate these divisions by showing a selection of characteristic motifs from each, such as animals and plants from the earth and marine creatures from the sea. A good example of the first method of portraying Creation is the lost painting of the universe that adorned a vault in a bathhouse in Gaza and was described by John of Gaza, the sixth-century orator who lived in that city. John begins his description of the painting with two rhetorical invocations, the first to Apollo and the second to the Christian Creator, the root of all life. 15 He goes on to describe a painting that contained well over fifty figures, each personifying a different part of the cosmos. For example, he saw earth portrayed as a woman, with long spread-out hair in which were ears of wheat; she held a horn of plenty, while her fertility was also personified by her twin children, the fruits (karpoi). 16 Other personifications who appeared in the painting at Gaza included two women, identified by John as Europe and Asia, the Sea (Thalassa), surrounded by marine creatures, the Ocean and the Depths, the four Seasons, and climatic elements such as the four Winds, Thunder, Lightning, and Cloud. The Moon also was portrayed, together with Phosphoros and Orthros, both allegories that referred to the sun. There was also a phoenix, whichJohn ofGaza said was a symbol of the eternal cycle of the sun. As we have seen, a Christian accent was provided at the center of the whole picture by a golden cross set against three concentric rings of blue. 17 Apart from the setting of this cross, which John described as a symbol of the Trinity, he did not read Christian symbolism into the cosmic elements he saw portrayed. Some aspects of the picture of the cosmos described by John of Gaza can be visualized with the aid of a fourth-century floor mosaic from a bathhouse ("BathE") in Antioch. 18 This floor, which was found in the large hall of the baths, had a big rectangular panel in the center

THE LITERAL SENSE

2I

showing personifications of Earth, identified by an inscription as "Ge," together with her children ("Karpoi"), as well as Field ("Aroura") and another personification, who is probably the land of Egypt ("Aigyptos") (fig. 8). The depiction of Earth and her children corresponds to the description of these figures by John of Gaza. In both bathhouses, for example, the lady had long strands of hair that were adorned with stalks of wheat. At Antioch the central panel of the floor was surrounded by four smaller rectangular panels and four square panels, which together made up a frame (fig. 9). From what survives of these outer panels, it appears that they were devoted to subjects representing water. Each of the four small rectangular panels held a sea thiasos, with nereids riding on the backs of sea centaurs. The one preserved corner square contains personifications of a river ("Eurotas") and of the country ("Lacedaemonia") through which the river flowed. The overall arrangement of the floor, then, presents personifications connected with the land in the central field and figures connected with water in the framing panels. This composition of the earth surrounded by the waters is one that we shall frequently meet again in our study of early Byzantine floor mosaics. For now, it may be noted that the composition corresponds to a common concept of late antique cosmography. The idea that the earth was encircled by a continuous sea was familiar to the Romans and was taken over by Early Christian writers. ' 9 Eusebius, for example, wrote in his In Praise of Constantine: "In the middle, like a core, He [God] laid out the earth, and then encircled this with Ocean to embellish its outline with dark-blue color. " 20 The modern reader may perhaps object that the central panel at Antioch is surrounded not only by figures connected with the sea but also by a river. However, we shall find that in early Byzantine monuments this distinction is not necessarily recognized. In otht;r mosaics also, river life may be included among sea creatures in the band of "sea" that encircles the central "earth." In one of these mosaics, a floor from Nikopolis, an inscription specifically identifies the pavement as a portrayal of Earth and Ocean. 21

THE CHURCH OF DUMETIOS AT NIKOPOLIS We turn now from the decorations of secular bathhouses to consider depictions of Earth and Ocean in ecclesiastical contexts. With some notable exceptions, artists working in churches generally did not represent these geographical entities as human figures but preferred instead to illustrate characteristic motifs from land and sea, such as plants, land animals, birds, and aquatic creatures. 22 On occasion, early Byzantine artists showed personifications of rivers, of the months, or of the seasons, but more rarely did they personify Earth and Sea themselves. Possibly their reluctance was due to a lingering fear of idolatry; the half-naked female personifications of Ge and Thalassa may have been too reminiscent of pagan deities to have been at home in churches, even on the floor. In this connection, it is significant that John of Gaza, when he described the painting of the world in the baths, referred to the personification of Thalassa as an Aphrodite rising shining from the foam. 23 Another reason why artists working in churches preferred to depict the world by means of a selection of plants and animals may have been that sermons and commentaries set the example by depicting the world in such terms. 24 Gregory of Nazianzus stressed the living beings in his description of the world; we shall discover that many other writers also emphasized this aspect of Creation. 25 Most of the depictions of the world that survive from churches are floor mosaics, but the life of the world was also depicted on walls and ceilings. The orator Choricius describes how the eastern wall of the atrium of St. Stephen in Gaza was decorated with "everything the sea brings

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EARTH AND OCEAN

forth and all the tribute of the earth: there is hardly anything you could look for that is not included, and a great deal that you would not expect to see. " 26 In spite of such variety, an artist could not possibly portray within a defined space every plant and creature under the sun. He had to make a selection. But the necessity for selection imposed a difficulty: How was the designer of a work of art to convey the idea that the relatively few motifs he had chosen stood for the whole terrestrial world? By the sixth century Byzantine artists had reached two solutions to the prc>blem. The first was to arrange the motifs cartographically, so that the ocean was seen to surround the earth. The second solution was to divide the motifs into separate categories, such as sea creatures, birds, and land animals, which corresponded to the phases of Creation. The most famous example of a mosaic showing the earth surrounded by the ocean is the floor of the north transept of the basilica of Dumetios in Nikopolis, which dates to the second quarter of the sixth century (fig. IO). 27 The square mosaic has a central field containing a line of trees. From left to right we see: a cypress tree, an apple tree, two cypresses, a pomegranate tree, two cypresses, a pear tree, and another cypress. Flowers grow under the trees, and in front of them two large birds stand facing each other. To the left of the central tree a smaller bird was originally to be seen pecking at the ground. 28 In the sky eight more birds fly around the tops of the branches. No other creatures appeared in the central field. Around this panel there is a border containing a chain of medallions, each enclosing a bird with a ribbon on its neck. Around this border is another broader band, which frames the whole floor; it contains blue water filled with a considerable variety of water creatures and plants (figs. I I and I2). There are fish of different shapes and sizes, octopuses, shellfish, water birds, water plants such as the lotus, and fishermen. Below the landscape in the central panel there is an inscription that leaves the viewer in no doubt concerning the subject of the mosaic: Here you see the famous and boundless ocean Containing in its midst the earth Bearing round about in the skilful images of art everything that breathes and creeps The foundation of Dumetios, the great-hearted archpriest. 29 The mosaic is, then, a picture of the terrestrial world, which shows the land surrounded by the sea. It should be noted that some of the motifs in the border, such as the ducks sitting in lotus cups, are scenes of river life, in particular that of the Nile (fig. I2); nevertheless, the inscription shows that they signify the encircling ocean. As Ernst Kitzinger has shown, the floor at Nikopolis relates to cosmological concepts of its period. 30 Here the notions of the sixth-century geographer Cosmas Indicopleustes are especially relevant. 3 ' In his Christian Topography this author reconciled the geography of Strabo with the data given in the Bible; he described at length how the land that we inhabit is surrounded by the ocean, and he illustrated his ideas with a map of the world, which is preserved in three later copies of his treatiseY A drawing of this map (fig. IJ) survives in the ninth-century manuscript in the Vatican (MS. gr. 699, fol. 40v.). 33 In the center of the diagram is the inhabited earth, which is in the shape of a rectangle. Around the earth is a broad band representing the ocean. From the ocean, four large gulfs open into the central land: they are identified as the "Romaic Gulf" (the Mediterranean), the "Arabian Gulf" (the Red Sea), the "Persian Gulf," and the "Caspian Sea." Around the rectangular band of sea there is another band, which represents "the earth beyond the ocean." This land extends to the east to enclose the Earthly Paradise,

THE LITERAL SENSE

23

which is represented as a rectangle containing eight trees bearing fruit. The Earthly Paradise is of course no longer inhabited by men, for as the poet A vitus wrote in the early sixth century: "This sacred land now holds heavenly angels instead of the guilty beings who were rightly driven from the seat of bliss. " 34 From Paradise flow its four rivers; they pass under the ocean and reemerge in the inhabited earth as the Euphrates, the Tigris, and the Phison, all of which flow into the "Persian Gulf," and the river Gehon, or Nile, which flows into the "Romaic Gulf." If we compare the floor at Nikopolis with the map of Cosmas, we see that the mosaic shows only the central, inhabited earth and the surrounding ocean. Paradise and the "earth beyond the ocean" are not depicted in our mosaic. However, it should be noted that the conventions used by the map to portray the Earthly Paradise are quite similar to those used by the mosaic to portray the Earth. In each case we see a line of fruit trees enclosed in a frame. Fruit trees therefore could signify Earth or Paradise, according to their context. A close parallel to the mosaic at Nikopolis is provided by the illustrations of the creation of the land animals in two later Byzantine manuscripts, the Octateuch in the Seraglio Library (fig. 14)3 5 and the Octateuch formerly in the Evangelical School at Smyrna. 36 Each miniature shows a maplike view of the earth surrounded by the ocean, which is similar to the diagram of Cosmas, except that in the two Octateuch miniatures the land contains trees and a variety of four-footed beasts, while the ocean is filled with sea creatures, as in the floor at Nikopolis. Although the two miniatures are of twelfth-century date, they must reflect an earlier model, which was probably created by an artist who used the map of Cosmas as a guide. 37 Some commentators on the mosaic at Nikopolis have been struck by the apparent hyperbole of the inscription: Quoting from Homer, the verses claim that the depiction of earth is "bearing round about in the skilful images of art everything that breathes and creeps. " 38 Yet all we actually see are trees, flowers, and a number of birds. However, it is evident that here the parts stand for the whole; the few plants and birds are intended to evoke the whole range of terrestrial flora and fauna. 39 The designer has had to make a selection, as indeed would any person who wished to portray all of Earth and Sea by means ofliving things. But the designer made his meaning clear by arranging his chosen motifs according to a commonly understood cosmographic scheme. 40 It is now time to consider how the mosaic at Nikopolis may relate to the early Byzantine texts on the created world that we reviewed earlier. The inscription explicitly identifies the floor as a portrayal of Earth and Ocean, but it gives no hint of any further allegorical meanings. The mosaic and its explanatory inscription therefore seem to be analogous to those texts that describe the component parts of Creation but do not allegorize them or give them symbolic significance. What the mosaic presents to us is the land and the sea in their literal sense. Of course, here I am speaking of the apparent intentions expressed by the hexameters in the inscription. It is entirely possible that viewers could have read allegorical meanings into the mosaic on their own account, just as they could if they heard the parts of Creation being described literally in a sermon. In analyzing the iconography of Earth and Ocean in Byzantine art, it is helpful to make a distinction between metonymy and metaphor, or between sign and symbolY From the point of view of the inscription, the motifs on the floor at Nikopolis should be termed signs, because they stand for the larger entities (Earth and Ocean) of which they are parts: That is, they are examples of metonymy. The inscription does not invite us to interpret the motifs as symbols; we are not asked to give them metaphorical or allegorical meanings that belong to different contexts. For example, the fish in the border were clearly meant to be signs standing for the

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sea, but there is no indication either in the inscription or in the design of the mosaic that the fish were also intended to be symbols standing for extraneous concepts such as Christian souls in baptismal waters. Not all Byzantine depictions of the world were so literal; in later chapters we shall see that the designers of some cosmographic mosaics demonstrably did intend the plants and creatures to carry symbolic meanings.

THE BASILICA OF THYRSOS AT TEGEA The layout of the floor in the north transept of the church of Dumetios at Nikopolis is repeated in several other pavements that have been found around the eastern half of the Mediterranean. In all of these mosaics there is a framed rectangle containing motifs signifying the earth or its produce, which is surrounded by a border containing aquatic life representing the ocean. A well-known example of this type of floor exists at Tegea, in Arcady, where the visitor can see the remains of a mosaic that once adorned the nave of a three-aisled basilica built, according to its inscription, by one Thyrsos (fig. rs)Y This basilica, which had impost blocks carved with crosses, was in all likelihood a church. The mosaic is not precisely dated, but it probably belongs to the late fifth century. 43 The inscription is placed at the western end of the floor, in order to greet the visitor coming into the building. In somewhat fulsome terms it eulogizes the founder while drawing attention to the building and to its "well-constructed decoration" (eusynthetos kosmos). 44 Kosmos, which I have translated as "decoration," can of course mean "universe"; thus there is a possibility that the word could also be read in the latter sense as a reference to the subject matter of the mosaic. 45 However, since the inscription is incomplete, it is not possible to claim with any certainty that such a double sense was intended here. 46 Nevertheless, if the inscription does not explicitly say that the nave mosaic portrays the whole cosmos, the arrangement of the images makes it very likely that the floor represents at least the terrestrial world. Although parts of the mosaic have been lost, its general scheme is quite clear. The framed rectangle was divided into sixteen squares, set in two parallel rows of eight (fig. rs). Of these, the pair of squares at the east end and the pair at the west end showed the four Rivers of Paradise; Gehon (the Nile) and Phison were nearest the apse, while Tigris and Euphrates were nearest the entrance. Each of the rivers was personified as a half-length figure and held an attribute; Tigris and Euphrates, the best preserved of the rivers, hold, respectively, a vase from which water flows and a cornucopia (fig. r6). The remaining twelve squares in the central rectangle contained busts of the months of the year, starting at the eastern end with January and February and running through to November and December at the west. The months, like the rivers, were personified as half-length figures carrying their produce or other attributes. Thus March, dressed as a warrior, holds a lance and a shield, July holds a sickle and a sheaf of wheat (fig. 17), August clutches a melon and an outsized aubergine (fig. r8), September presents a tray of fruit, and October pours wine from a bottle. February, meanwhile, is wrapped up in a garment against the cold of winter (fig. 19). The rivers and the months were originally accompanied by their names and, in the case of May, an additional epithet of "kalos kairos," or "beautiful season" (fig. 20). The central rectangle containing the months and the rivers is surrounded by a border of octagons containing a variety of marine creatures (fig. 2r). Here we see different varieties of fish: dolphins, cuttlefish, octopuses, lobster, and crab. Interspersed with the marine life are a few inanimate objects such as vases, but no land animals or birds.

THE LITERAL SENSE

25

In discussing the interpretation of this floor, I shall start with what appears to be the literal sense and then consider possible allegorical meanings. As Anastasios Orlandos suggested in his publication of the mosaic, the literal content of the floor appears to be the earth, signified by the twelve months, surrounded by the ocean, signified by the sea creatures. 47 The layout is parallel to that of the Nikopolis floor, except that here the artist has selected the months with their seasonal activities and produce as signs to represent the earth, whereas the artist at Nikopolis selected a few birds and plants. The four Rivers of Paradise, which are enclosed by the border of sea creatures, present a more difficult problem, and several interpretations have been proposed for them. One suggestion has been that the pavement represents the Earthly Paradise described in the book of Genesis and by the church fathers. 48 But we cannot take the floor as a whole to represent the Earthly Paradise, in its literal sense, because Early Christian writers agreed that there is no succession or harshness of seasons in the Earthly Paradise, but only one perpetual temperate climate, in which flowers bloom and fruit are ripe all at the same time and forever. This idea was derived both from the Bible and from pagan tradition. The book of Revelation says that the Tree of Life, which Genesis places in the Earthly Paradise, bore fruit every month of the year. 49 In addition, the Christian writers' conception of Paradise owed much to ancient descriptions of the Elysian fields, that place in which, as Homer said: "The easiest kind of living comes to humans, where with no snow, no hard winter, and no storms of rain, the clear blowing winds of Zephyr are sent from the ocean to refresh men. " 50 In Early Christian literature there are vivid descriptions of the gentle climate of the Earthly Paradise, such as this passage in a sermon attributed spuriously to St. Basil the Great: In that place there is no violence of winds, none of the excesses of the seasons, no hail, no furious storms, no thunderbolts, no wintry ice, no dampness of spring, no heat and burning of summer, no dryness of autumn; but a temperate and peaceful mutual concord of the seasons of the year, each adorned with its own beauty, and unthreatened by its neighbor. For neither does heat, perhaps coming unseasonably early, ruin the flowers of spring; nor do the fruits of summer and autumn waste and perish as a result of being burnt by frequent disturbances of the atmosphere. 51 Ephrem Syrus likewise, in his tenth hymn on Paradise, abolishes the seasons: In the temperate air, which, on the outside, embraces [Paradise], the neighboring months show themselves to be tempered: somber February laughs here like May; December, in spite of its frost and its cold wind, here is like August with its fruits. June here is like April, and July, in spite of its dog days, here provides itself with the dew of October. Our miserable months become like Eden. 52 A vitus, in his epic poem on Genesis, describes the earthly Paradise in similar terms, saying that there are no seasons in that place, "since winter is lacking and there is no scorched summer, autumn with its fruits and spring with its flowers fill the whole year. 53 These passages, stressing the uniformity of the months in the Earthly Paradise, are quite contrary to the content of the mosaic at Tegea, which presents our changing months with the produce, qualities, and activities unique to each, including the negative features such as the winter's cold and the warfare of early spring. It is difficult, for this reason, to interpret the months and the rivers together as a portrayal of the Earthly Paradise. But is it possible that

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the designer of the floor intended us to read the four rivers apart from the months, so that the months would signify the inhabited earth and the rivers the Earthly Paradise? The difficulty with this interpretation is the separation of the four rivers by the months. If the floor had been meant to illustrate the Earth and the Earthly Paradise, one would have expected the rivers to be grouped together at their source in Paradise, whereas in fact they appear at the four corners of the rectangle containing the months, as if they were irrigating the inhabited earth and its produce (fig. I 5). For this reason, I would prefer to read the four rivers in the mosaic as the four principal rivers of the inhabited earth, which, to be sure, have their ultimate origin in Paradise. If we refer again to the Christian Topography of Cosmas Indicopleustes and to the map preserved in the manuscripts, we find that for Cosmas, as the map shows, the four Rivers of Paradise first flow out of the Garden of Eden and then reemerge again to water the inhabited earth (fig. 13). On the map, only the rivers of the inhabited earth are enclosed by the ocean, for Paradise lies beyond the ocean to the east. I am proposing, then, that the mosaic at Tegea corresponds to the portion of the map that illustrates the inhabited earth and the ocean that surrounds it; therefore the mosaic excludes Paradise. Besides that of Cosmas Indicopleustes, several other texts on the created world describe how the four rivers flow from Paradise and then become the rivers we know in our part of the earth. For example, Ephrem Syrus, commenting on Genesis, says that "the four Rivers which flow from the fountain of Paradise . . . have been absorbed in the periphery of Paradise, and they have descended in the middle of the sea as if by an aqueduct, and the earth makes each one spring forth in its place. " 54 In the same passage Ephrem informs us that the waters of our rivers do not taste the same as the waters of the fountain in Paradise. Another author who speaks of the Rivers of Paradise as the rivers of this earth, and who describes them as such, is A vitus, in his poem on Genesis. After telling how the four streams spring from the fountain in Eden, he identifies Gehon with the Nile and Phison with the Ganges in India, and he describes both at some length. Here he is primarily concerned with the physical and geographical characteristics of the rivers in the inhabited earth; for example, he devotes several lines to the annual floods of the Nile in Egypt. 55 The basilica at Tegea is one of several early Byzantine churches that have mosaics or carvings portraying the earth and the ocean situated in their naves. 56 This arrangement was far from universal, but it does fit with the symbolic interpretations of the church given by Maxim us the Confessor, a writer of the seventh century. In one passage of his Mystagogia Maxim us equates the whole church with the physical universe, calling the sanctuary, which is restricted to the priests and ministrants, a symbol of the heaven, and the nave, which is open to the laity, a symbol of the earth: "[The church] has the holy sanctuary as heaven, but it possesses the fitting appearance of the nave as earth. So likewise the universe is the church. For it has the heaven like a sanctuary and the ordering of the earth like a nave. " 57 If it seems reasonable to propose that the nave pavement at Tegea represents the terrestrial world, without the Earthly Paradise, it is still necessary to ask whether its designers intended it to be interpreted only in the literal sense of the inhabited earth and the sea, or whether the individual motifs were meant to carry symbolic meanings as well. Both the twelve months and the four Rivers of Paradise were capable of symbolic interpretation. For. example, some texts on the Hexaemeron allegorize the fruits of the seasons in relation to the faithful in the Church. The third-century writer Origen, commenting on the creation of the plants on the third day, identifies the earth with Christians who should bring abundant and varied fruits to God. 58 The Byzantine author George of Pisidia, in his seventh-century poem on the cosmos, describes the seasons and compares the heat of the actual sun, which ripens the

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crops, to the spark of the "intelligible" sun, which nourishes fruit in the unfruitful heart. 59 In a discussion of the creation of the plants that is contained in a Latin sermon attributed spuriously to St. Augustine, we find the crops allegorized as the catechumens growing to maturity in the church: "The catechumens are like grass: when they believe, it is as if they rise up into stalks. The faithful also grow into ripe ears; whence also the grain of the saints is laid up in celestial granaries. " 60 A passage that appears particularly apposite to the Tegea mosaic, because it combines harvest imagery with that of irrigating waters, can be found in the Carmen Paschale of Sedulius, of the fifth century. Sedulius appeals to the "sons of Theseus" to forsake the dusty and sterile ground of paganism and instead to "enter the pleasant green grass of ever flourishing groves and the blessed places through the pious springs, where the seeds of life are animated by divine waters, and the crop made fertile by the celestial fount is cleansed ... so that it may be the harvest of God and that it may heap up fruit one hundredfold. " 61 These texts, to which others could be added, 62 demonstrate that in the fifth century it would have been possible to allegorize the produce of the seasons as the fruits of the human heart. Another meaning that the church fathers gave to the months and seasons was to interpret their renewal, although cyclic, as a reminder and demonstration of the Resurrection. "Every month," said St. Augustine, "the moon is born, grows, comes to fullness, diminishes, is consumed, and is renewed." From this month-by-month renewal, we must believe in the one Resurrection. 63 The same idea was expressed in varying forms by other Early Christian writers. 64 In view of the passages quoted above, we might be tempted to read the months in the Tegea mosaic as symbols, either of the Resurrection or of the fruitfulness of the faithful in the Church. However, it should be said that some commentaries on the Hexaemeron treat the months and seasons in a purely literal sense. For example, the influential late fourth-century sermons on the Creation by St. Basil the Great describe the seasons but do not make them into Christian symbols, even though the sermons do allegorize other aspects of the world. 65 And if we turn from texts to the Tegea mosaic itself, we find no pointers to symbolism surviving in the design or in the inscriptions. The words "kalos kairos," or "beautiful season," that were attached to the personification of May, imply no more than an admiration for the beauties of spring (fig. 20). 66 Nor are there in the mosaic any personifications of concepts such as "renewal," which we sometimes find associated with the seasons elsewhere. It is instructive to contrast the Tegea mosaic with another floor of the second half of the fifth century, which was discovered in a building north of St. Paul's Gate at Antioch. In the Antioch mosaic we find the four seasons appearing as busts in a circular wreath of fruit and leaves that encloses a personification of "ananeosis," or "renewal" (fig. 22). 67 The designer at Antioch left his viewers with little doubt that he wished his seasons to be interpreted symbolically. But the designer at Tegea has given no pointers to indicate that he wished the twelve months to be read in any other than their literal sense. The same conclusion applies to the four rivers. They were indeed capable of several symbolic interpretations, but at Tegea the artist does not guide us to them. In his publication of the mosaic, Orlandos rightly observed that in Early Christian literature the four Rivers of Paradise were often associated with the four Evangelists. 68 In a letter of the mid-third century, St. Cyprian states that: "Ecclesia, portraying the likeness of Paradise, included within her walls fruit-bearing trees ... [which] she waters with four Rivers, that is, with the four Gospels, wherewith . . . she bestows the grace of saving baptism. " 69 Several other Early Christian writers, including St. Jerome and St. Augustine, linked the Evangelists with the Rivers of Paradise. 70 In some contexts the designers of works of art also certainly wished to convey this message. For example, an inscription composed by Paulinus of Nola, for the apse mosaic of the

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basilica that he built before the year 403 at Nola, identified the four rivers in that mosaic with the four Gospels: He [Christ] himself, the rock of the Church, is standing on a rock From which four seething springs issue, The Evangelists, the living streams of Christ. 7 ' As we have seen from the letter of Cyprian, the four rivers were also capable of interpretation as symbols of baptism. In certain baptisteries the four rivers were either portrayed or were recalled through an inscription. 72 But since the building at Tegea was not a baptistery, we cannot be certain that the same symbolism was intended there. In several texts on Creation, as has been shown, the Rivers of Paradise are related neither to baptism nor to the Evangelists, but are simply described as flowing out of Paradise to become earthly rivers. In their accounts of the world, Epiphanius of Salamis in the fourth century, 73 Severian of Gabala in the late fourth or early fifth century,74 and Avitus in the sixth century75 all treated the four rivers in their literal sense only. At Tegea, neither the design of the mosaic nor its inscriptions lead the viewer to any symbolic interpretation of the rivers. In the apse at Nola, where Paulinus did intend the rivers to symbolize the Evangelists, he explained his intent to his audience through a verse inscription. 76 It is only possible therefore to be sure that the mosaic at Tegea was intended to represent the earth surrounded by the ocean. The designer conveyed this meaning by the manner in which he arranged the images from nature on the floor. The individual motifs, the months and the four rivers, certainly had the potential for further symbolic interpretation, but neither the design of the mosaic nor its inscriptions encourage the spectator to go beyond the literal sense.

THE CHURCH OF ST. CATHERINE AT MOUNT SINAI Another literal portrayal of the life of Earth and Ocean can be found in the basilica of St. Catherine in the monastery at Mount Sinai. This church was built by the emperor Justinian; the construction took place some time after the death of his Empress, Theodora, in 548, as can be inferred from an inscription cut into one of the panels sheathing the sides of the thirteen beams across the ceiling of the nave. 77 On the undersides of these beams there are wooden panels decorated with carvings, which are contemporary with the inscriptions (fig. 23).7 8 Seven of the panels beneath the beams are adorned by rinceaux only, but the other six display friezes of creatures and plants. 79 The flora and fauna are divided according to their respective habitats on land or in water, and on each panel they flank a central cross enclosed by a circular frame such as a wreath or a rosette. The first of the beams, counted from the east of the nave, presents a frieze of creatures of the land: a hare, two oxen, two peacocks, and an antelope, set among flowering plants (figs. 24 and 25). The third beam from the east displays an assortment of sea creatures: a turtle, fish of various shapes, shells, a crab, cuttlefish, eels, and an octopus (figs. 26 and 27). On the fifth beam we find a frieze of birds and animals set among plants and eating from spilling baskets of fruit; they include a fox, two ibexes, two pheasants, and a hare, as well as four birds, which are too indistinct to identify. On the sixth beam the frieze is made up entirely of beasts of the earth: a horse, a camel, a boar, an elephant, a bear, an ass, a goat, a dog, a hare, a tiger, an ox, and a

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lion, all set in grape rinceaux (figs. 28 and 29). On the ninth beam we find only birds, including cocks, doves, and peacocks, among flowering plants and spilling baskets of fruit (figs. 30 and 3 1). The twelfth beam is primarily devoted to the life of the river Nile: Among outsized lotus plants we see two crocodiles, two boats containing human figures, two large birds, two tritons holding up the central wreath containing the cross, and two more crocodiles, which are attempting to swallow oxen (figs. 32 and 33). The last motif, the combat of a crocodile and a large land animal, was traditionally associated with a Nilotic setting. Pliny, for example, wrote that the artist Nealkes added a group of a crocodile ambushing an ass to a painting of a naval battle in order to show that the engagement took place on the river Nile. 80 The two large birds are probably ostriches, which could also signify an Egyptian locale. Thus four of the beams at Mount Sinai are decorated with motifs belonging to the land, that is, with quadrupeds, birds, fruits, and plants, while two of the beams display motifs associated with water, that is, sea creatures and the scenes of the Nile. The division of the subjects between land and water and the great range of creatures portrayed make it likely that these reliefs were intended to portray the natural history of the terrestrial world. 8' The inclusion of Nilotic motifs among the "waters" of Creation is paralleled both by texts and by other works of art. We have already found ducks in lotus plants incorporated into the "ocean" at Nikopolis (fig. 12); and we shall see that other contemporary floor mosaics represent the waters of the world by means of the flora and fauna of the Nile. 82 Byzantine authors also associated the Nile with the waters of Creation. For example, a sermon by Anastasios links the rise and fall of that river to the gathering of the waters and the creation of dry land described in verse 9 of the first chapter of Genesis. 83 The sixth-century commentary by Procopius of Gaza includes such typical Nilotic animals as crocodiles and hippopotami among the "creeping things" created from the waters on the fifth day. 84 The crosses at the center of each frieze are also relevant to the overall theme of the carvings. It will be recalled that John of Gaza described a cross enclosed by a circular frame in the center of a painting of the world that he saw in the early sixth century in Gaza. He explains its significance in that context: "Four extremities grew [out of the cross], because the primeval age was east, west, south, and north, having accomplished the holding together of the world from these four. " 85 Other Early Christian writers also saw the four arms of the cross as signifying the four cardinal directions. In the fifth century Maximus of Turin wrote: "Heaven itself is disposed in the figure of this sign [the cross]. For since it is divided into four parts, that is, into east, west, south, and north, it is contained as if by the four angles of the cross. " 86 In a commentary spuriously attributed to St. Jerome, the shape of the cross was simply the "squared form of the world. " 87 The cross of course could carry many messages, but when it appeared in the context of the life of the world, as it did at Sinai, it could add a cosmic significance to its other meanings. The world created by God was indeed an especially suitable theme for a church at Mount Sinai, for it was here that God had revealed to Moses the history of the first six days of the world. In his Christian Topography, Cosmas Indicopleustes says that God spent six days on Mount Sinai showing to Moses a series of visions, which Cosmas describes as a virtual day-byday rerun of the Creation. 88 I believe, then, that the carvings on the beams of St. Catherine's church were intended to depict the plants, fruits, and living creatures of Creation, divided according to their habitats. But was this their only significance, or did the carvers also intend the various motifs to carry additional symbolic meanings? Fish and birds, for example, were often used as metaphors for the Christian soul in Early Christian art and literature. 89 Therefore it is conceivable that the fish

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on the third beam were more than signs of the abundance of the seas, but were also intended to represent Christian souls in the waters of life. Likewise, the birds among plants and baskets of fruit on the ninth beam might possibly have been more than signs of the earth's bountiful produce and of the variety of the creatures of the air; they might also have been symbols of souls in Paradise (figs. 27 and 3 I). 90 But if such symbolism was intended by the carvers of the beams at Mount Sinai, they did very little to guide the viewer to it. In subsequent chapters we shall see that in other portrayals of created life artists alerted the spectator when they wished motifs to be read symbolically, either by inscriptions, or by personifications, or by emphasizing certain motifs with compositional means such as special frames. But at Sinai the carvers of the beams did not provide their viewers with such pointers to symbolism; there is little apparent need for us to see the creatures and vegetation as anything more than signs, which stand for the divisions of Creation from which they were selected. In the same way, it is not necessary to go beyond the description of Creation in order to explain the sixth beam from the east, which presents a frieze of quadrupeds. It has been suggested that these creatures represent the Animal Paradise of the Messianic age prophesied by Isaiah. 9 ' However, if we look at the animals on this panel we find that, with one exception, they are not arranged in the pairs specified by Isaiah. The prophet wrote: "The wolf shall feed with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the bull and the lion shall feed together. ... The ox and the bear shall feed ... and the lion shall eat straw like an ox. " 92 Of these pairs, only the lion and the ox appear together on the beam at Sinai, at the right-hand end (fig. 28). But, in the carving, these two animals do not face each other in order to eat straw together, as they do in the mosaic at Karhk in Cilicia, where the words of Isaiah are quoted in ap inscription above them (fig. 34). 93 On the contrary, at Sinai the lion runs after the ox, as if in pursuit. If the carvers of this frieze did have the Animal Paradise in mind, they did not make it obvious. There is indeed little in the sculptures of this beam to guide the viewer beyond the literal sense, which is that these creatures, together with those on the other beams at Sinai, represent examples of God's Creation. 94

III

Partial Allegory

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T

HE last chapter considered those writers who interpreted the created world in its literal sense, and it suggested some portrayals of Earth and Ocean in art that also admit a literal reading. This chapter will look at patristic authors who ostensibly rejected the allegorical interpretation of Creation but still managed to slip in the odd allegory where it suited their purpose. A prime example of this type of treatment, which may be termed partial allegory, is the magnificent commentary on the first six days of Creation written by St. Basil the Great. The work is divided into nine homilies that were preached over five days during Lent in the year 378. 1 The sermons were extremely successful: St. Ambrose imitated them in his own Hexameron, and they were soon available in a Latin translation by Eustathius, which was used by St. Augustine. Later Byzantine writers, such as John Philoponos in the sixth century, also used them. 2 Basil's commentary covers the whole of Creation, and he is at pains to point out that his interpretation keeps to the letter of the text. Thus, when Basil considers the waters above the firmament (Genesis 1:7), he accuses the allegorists of making them symbols of incorporeal powers, and he calls their ideas "dream interpretations and old women's tales." "Let us consider water as water," Basil says. 3 Nor does he allegorize the gathering of the waters (Genesis 1:9), which other authors explained as the assembling of all the peoples into the Church. 4 Later, when he comes to consider the creation of the beasts and plants, Basil says again: Those who cannot accept the scriptures in their common sense, say that water is not water, but some other substance; the words plants and fish they interpret as seems

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good to them; the creation of the reptiles and wild beasts they explain by twisting [the sense] according to their own suppositions, like interpreters of dreams who give whatever meaning they wish to the phantasies that have appeared during sleep. As for me, when I hear grass spoken of, I think of grass: and so also with plants, fish, wild animals, and domestic animals. I accept everything at face value. 5 The principal message of St. Basil's sermons is that the created world can convey, by analogy, an idea of the greatness of its Creator. Basil returns to this theme several times. In the first homily he says: "From the beauty of visible things let us understand Him who is above all beauty. " 6 In his sixth homily he explains that even the most spectacular phenomena of Creation give only a dim inkling of God's power: "Compared to their maker, the sun and the moon are like an insect and an ant. We cannot take from them a true view of the grandeur of the God of the universe; they can only instruct us by small and faint hints, as does each of the smallest of the animals and plants. " 7 In the eighth homily Basil summarizes the wonders of Creation that he has described and explains how his hearers should benefit from contemplating them: "You have, then, the sky with its adornment, the earth with its beauty, the sea flourishing with the creatures that it has engendered, the air filled with the birds that fly through it. All that, by the command of God, has been brought into existence from nothing .... Do not ever cease, then, to wonder or to glorify through all of Creation Him who is the maker of it. " 8 Like Gregory of Nazianzus, St. Basil gives a very thorough description of all that he wishes his audience to admire. In the third and fourth homilies he describes the waters, including the rivers, the seas, and the lakes. In the fifth sermon he tells us of the plants, the flowers, the trees, and the variety of their fruits. The sixth homily is devoted to the heavenly bodies and their influence on the weather, the tides, and the seasons. With the seventh sermon Basil reaches the living beings produced from the waters on the fifth day; this whole homily is a natural history of the sea. In the eighth sermon Basil turns to terrestrial life. He opens with a discussion of the superiority of land animals to fish in the senses of sound, hearing, and sight, as well as in intelligence. Then Basil describes the birds and their variety, followed by the insects. The ninth and last homily is devoted to the beasts of the earth, which were created on the sixth day; we hear about elephants, camels, and, finally, man. For most of his long treatise, St. Basil practices what he preaches, and he keeps to the literal sense of what he is describing. But every now and then he gives to some part of Creation a symbolic meaning, or meanings. A notable example is his treatment of the vine, which comes in his catalogue of the plants created on the third day. After describing the appearance of the vine, St. Basil allegorizes it, taking his cue from three separate biblical passages. He reminds his listeners of the verses on the True Vine in the Gospel of John (rs:r-s): Here, he says, Christ compares himself to the vine, his father to the husbandman, and the faithful to the fruitful branches. Basil also refers to the Lord's vineyard, which is described in Isaiah (s:r-7), and to Christ's parable of the vineyard (Matthew 2r:33-4I). Of these two passages he observes: "It is evidently the human souls that he calls his vine; those which he has surrounded with the security that his precepts give, as if with a fence, and with the guard of his angels." Finally, Basil compares the tendrils of the vine to "the twinings of charity," by which "we cling to our neighbors and rest upon them, so that, in our continual spurts of growth towards heaven, we can, like climbing vines, raise ourselves to the highest summits. " 9 In his discussion of the vine, Basil offers us not one symbolic meaning, but several meanings that shade into each other. ' 0 Frequently St. Basil gives moralistic interpretations to the plants and animals, drawing instructive lessons from the facts of natural history. The short life of flowers is of course an

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image of the fragility of human life. II Less obvious is the moral to be drawn from the behavior of crabs. Crabs, says Basil, are fond of oysters, but they are not strong enough to open the oysters' shells with their claws. So they lie in wait in those sheltered spots where oysters like to sunbathe voluptuously by opening their shells to warm themselves in the rays of the sun. The crab approaches an unsuspecting oyster and furtively flicks a pebble into it, so that the mollusc can no longer close the two halves of its shell. Thus the crab gets its meal. Drawing his moral, St. Basil says that the crabs are like those who obtain their enjoyment from the misfortunes of others-one should avoid all similarity with such people and be content with what one has. I 2 In a similar way Basil draws lessons from the behavior of other sea creatures: The conjugal union of the eel and the viper, for example, shows that wives should put up with their husbands, however venomous their husbands may be. I 3 The birds provide our author with many opportunities for moral instruction: the storks and their concern for the elderly, the swallows and their poverty, the turtle doves and their virtuous widowhood, and, not least, the vultures who prove that the virgin birth is possible. I 4 St. Basil thus makes some parts of Creation into symbols and moralizes others. Another commentator who claimed to keep literally to the account in Genesis but occasionally gave way to allegory was Severian of Gabala, who wrote at the turn of the fourth and fifth centuries. Although he was the bishop of a town in Syria, he also preached successfully in Constantinople. IS He composed six homilies on the Hexaemeron, which, for the most part, keep to the letter of the biblical text. However, when Severian comes to the creation of the creatures and the birds from the waters on the fifth day, he says that those about to be baptized go to the waters as reptiles and snakes in sin but emerge from the waters as soaring birds. This, our worthy bishop declares somewhat defensively, is not allegory, but merely a valid meditation on history. I 6

THE CHURCH AT KHALDE Several floor mosaics provide interesting parallels to the partially allegorized descriptions of the world in Byzantine literature. A mosaic of the second half of the fifth century, which probably portrays the earth surrounded by the ocean, is preserved in a church at Khalde, south of Beirut, in Lebanon (figs. 35-37). I 7 This mosaic was in the western half of the nave, the eastern half being occupied by an extension of the sanctuary. IS The mosaic's field is divided into a grid of diagonal squares by a trellis composed of small flowers. The squares enclose a wide range of beasts, birds, and plants, among which we can recognize a donkey carrying baskets, a sheep, a stag with antlers, a leopard, a boar, a lion, an ostrich, two pheasants, a vase with birds perched on its rim, a basket containing fruits being pecked at by birds, and a tree with a bird in its branches. Around the edges of the field, where the points of the diagonally set squares touch the frame, there is a series of triangles, most of which contain sea creatures. Here we find dolphins, cuttlefish, and true fish of various shapes and sizes, one of which is shown swallowing another. Another of the triangles contains a boat. For the most part, the layout of the surviving floor follows the "Earth surrounded by Ocean" composition of the Nikopolis and Tegea mosaics in that the sea creatures and the boat are concentrated into the triangles bordering the mosaic, while the beasts, plants, and birds occupy the squares in the center. There are, however, a couple of exceptions to this general scheme; one of the bordering triangles contains a motif connected with the land, namely, a bird pecking grapes (fig. 35), while one of the

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squares frames a maritime motif, namely, a second boat (fig. 36). But since this boat is in a square adjacent to the triangles at the edge of the mosaic, it takes its place among the signs of the surrounding sea. Both the wide range of creatures portrayed and their general arrangement argue that the pavement at Khalde should be interpreted as an image of Earth and Ocean signified by their various forms of life; this must be the literal sense. But the designer of the mosaic also indicated that he wished at least one of the motifs to have a symbolic meaning over and above its literal sense. As we have just seen, he placed two ships among the sea creatures in the northeast corner of the floor: a small ship in a triangle and a larger one in an adjoining square (fig. 36). Both vessels are shown with prominent masts and are evidently under sail. These boats can in the first place be read simply as signs that stand for the ocean. Ships were often admired in the commentaries on God's Creation; Gregory of Nazianzus for example, in his literal account of the created world, wrote of the sea: "How can this element carry the sailor from dry land with the aid of a little wood and some wind? Do you not admire this when you see it, and is not your mind astonished by the sight?"' 9 And George of Pisidia, in his poem on the cosmos, tells us that God keeps the sea monsters in the solitary depths, lest they disturb the world's shipping. 20 At one level we can read the ships in the Khalde mosaic as signs that, like the fish, illustrate the marvels of God's Creation. But at another level, the boats were apparently intended to carry a symbolic meaning, for the sail of one of them was flanked by the inscription ploion erenes, or "ship of peace. " 2 ' The words suggest that the ship is to be read as a symbol of the peace to be found in the Christian church. The "ship of peace" at Khalde is reminiscent of the prayer with which St. Ambrose, in his fourth homily on the Hexameron, closes his discussion of the gathering of the waters on the third day: "My God grant us our prayer: to sail on a swift ship under a favorable breeze and finally reach a haven of safety ... that we may not meet with shipwreck to our faith. We pray, also, for a peace profound and ... that we may have as our ever-watchful pilot our Lord Jesus, who by his command can calm the tempest and restore once more the sea's tranquility. " 22 Many Christian writers, both Latin and Greek, used the boat as a metaphor for the Church and for the safety and peace it provided. 23 Some authors associated the ship's mast and sail more specifically with the security of the cross. 24 The inscription attached to the boat in the mosaic, therefore, asks us to consider its metaphorical as well as its literal meanings. 25 None of the other surviving motifs of the Khalde mosaic is accompanied by an inscription. But since both the ship and its legend are enclosed inside a framing square, it is probable that the legend refers to the boat alone, and not to any other subjects on the floor. Some of the creatures in the mosaic, such as the large fish that is shown eating a smaller one, can hardly be considered symbols of peace, but can only be signs standing for the dangerous waters in which they live (fig. 37). The mosaic therefore appears to be analogous to such texts as the Hexaemeron of St. Basil, which treat most of the world literally but give symbolic interpretations to a few of its parts.

THE CHURCH OF SS. COSMAS AND DAMIAN AT GERASA We have seen that the mosaic at Khalde, unlike the mosaic of Earth and Ocean at Nikopolis, presented a relatively wide selection of birds and animals in order to signify the earth. An even bigger collection of creatures can be seen in the nave mosaic of the church of SS. Cosmas and Damian at Gerasa, in Jordan (figs. 33-41). 26 At the eastern end of the mosaic, nearest to the

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sanctuary, a large rectangular inscription records the dedication of the church to the "handsome pair of martyrs," and its date, A. D. 53 3. 27 This inscription is flanked by portraits of two donors, Theodore, on the left, and his wife, Georgia, on the right. The rest of the rectangular floor, as far as it survives, can be visualized as being divided into thirteen rows from east to west; each row contains three or four diagonal squares, which are connected to each other at their points by smaller squares. All of the diagonal squares, except for those in the easternmost row, contain ornamental patterns. Most of the connecting squares, however, frame living things. The diagonal squares in the eastern row contain two more donor portraits and another inscription, which records the offering of the tribune Dagisthaeus. 28 The fourth diagonal square in this row encloses a flourishing vine, to which we shall return (fig. 38). In the square panels that connect the points of the diagonal squares, birds alternate with beasts from row to row (figs. 40-41). As we move from east to west we can recognize among the different species of birds a peahen, a peacock, pheasants, ducks, partridges, doves perched on a vase, a cock, an ibis, a flamingo, and a guinea fowl. In the rows of beasts we can find sheep, hares, a gazelle, a camel, a wild ass, a leaping dog, a tiger, cattle, a goat, lions and a lioness, an elephant, a bear, a horse, and an ibex. In addition, at least one of the square panels in the nave mosaic framed a plant, an acanthus bush, which can be seen in the ninth row from the east (fig. 40). The pavement of this church also portrayed water creatures, for two of the panels bordering the nave mosaic show fish and water birds in an interlace design (fig. 41). These two panels occupy the central spaces between the supports dividing the nave from the north and south aisles; the two other surviving intercolumnar panels, between the eastern supports, have a checkerboard pattern. This carpet of animals at the church of SS. Cosmas and Damian has been described as a "paradise. " 29 But such an interpretation seems unlikely because some of the animals, notably the dog, the bear, and the lions, are shown leaping, as if in pursuit of prey; in Paradise the animals were supposed to be at peace with each other. 30 It is more probable that the mosaic merely portrays the living things of Creation, since a great variety of species is shown, and since the species are divided according to their respective habitats in air, land, and sea. The two inscriptions at the eastern end do not suggest any symbolic significance for the animals and plants portrayed in the mosaic. However, the design of the floor gives a particular emphasis to one motif, the vine. The viewer is alerted to the special significance of this plant not by an inscription but by its position; it is set prominently alongside the donors in the row nearest the sanctuary, and it is framed by a large diagonal square, whereas all the other flora and fauna in the nave are contained by the smaller connecting squares (figs. 38 and 39). It is plain that this vine, with its heavy bunches of grapes, is not just an element of terrestrial Creation, but it carries additional meaning. The whole floor appears to be analogous to the Hexaemeron sermons of Basil the Great, which describe many parts of Creation according to their literal sense but also emphasize the vine as an allegory of Christ, of the human soul, and of the embraces of charity. It is difficult to be too specific about the precise symbolic connotations of the vine in this particular mosaic. Basil himself gave many shades of meaning to the plant, and we have seen that inscriptions in other floor mosaics interpret the vine in a variety of ways. 31 However, we can say at least that the vine in the basilica of SS. Cosmas and Damian was supposed to carry a greater freight of meaning than the other motifs from natural history that were depicted on the floor. It is possible to read the majority of the animals simply as signs that stand for the variety of God's Creation on Earth, but the vine imposes itself as a symbol that refers to such concepts as the True Vine, the Lord's Vineyard, and, perhaps, in view of its relative proximity to the

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altar, the EucharistY Although the vine in the mosaic is essentially an open symbol, some degree of closure may be provided by its three grape clusters, which could be taken as a reference to the Trinity (fig. 39). It can be argued that other isolated motifs within the mosaic were intended to receive symbolic readings. For example, the peacock was given a place of honor in the easternmost row of squares on the central axis of the nave. As we shall see below, the peacock was not only renowned in Early Christian literature as one of the most spectacular adornments of earthly Creation (which alone might account for its prominent position), but it also had a special potential for symbolic interpretation.

THE LARGE BASILICA AT HERAKLEA LYNKESTIS Of all the mosaics portraying Earth and Ocean, the finest in respect to artistic quality is the floor in the narthex of the large basilica at Heraklea Lynkestis in Macedonia (figs. 42-49). 33 This mosaic, which dates either to the early sixth or to the late fifth century, 34 fills the entire width of the vestibule to the church. It is set out according to the same principle as the mosaics at Nikopolis, Tegea, and Khalde, with a central rectangle representing the earth enclosed by a border of water creatures. At Heraklea, as at Nikopolis, the principal motifs of the central field are trees, but the selection of trees is larger and more sophisticated than in the church of Dumetios. The mosaic displays a line of ten trees, which is broken by a central composition enclosed in a wreathlike frame (fig. 43). The two trees growing on either side of the central composition are cypresses. Each of the other eight trees belongs to a different species, clearly identifiable by its own fruit and leaves. Under the trees grow smaller plants, including roses, lilies, and ivy. Animals also can be seen beneath the trees. As we pass from left to right we find a goat standing beneath a pine tree (fig. 44), a lion and a bull charging at each other through the trunks of an apple tree (fig. 45), a dog tied to a fig tree (fig. 46), and a leopard tearing apart a dead hind in the shade of a pomegranate (fig. 47). Birds of different varieties fly around the upper branches. The central composition, which breaks the line of trees, is an oval partially framed by two curving stems of an acanthus plant, which form a wreathlike surround (fig. 43). On its axis stands a vase with handles from which two branches of a vine grow to fill the upper half of the oval with leaves and grapes. The lower half of the framed area is filled with ivy and flowering plants. A hind and a hart stand among the plants on either side of the vase. Above them, a pair of peacocks face each other in the tendrils of the vine. The whole of the central rectangle of the mosaic is surrounded by a border that adjoins the outer walls of the narthex. This border enclosed a series of thirty-six octagons, each containing one or more sea creatures or water birds, including the Nilotic motif of a pair of ducks sitting in a lotus cup (figs. 44 and 48). As Ruth Kolarik has shown, the mosaic not only portrays the plant and animal life of land and water but also the seasons, for the trees, plants, and creatures of the central rectangle have been selected to illustrate the changing phases of the year. 35 It may even be conjectured that the remnants of thin, leafless branches, which survive beside the cypress on the right of the central composition, originally belonged to a tree depicted without its foliage in winter. Flying above its branches are ducks, which were associated with winter in the iconography of the seasons (fig. 49). 36 Thus, like the floors at Khalde and Nikopolis, the mosaic combines portrayals of animal and plant life, to which it adds the changes of the seasons featured at Tegea.

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There can be little doubt about the meaning of the mosaic in its literal sense as a depiction of the earth surrounded by the waters; 37 it is more difficult to determine to what extent this floor was intended to carry additional meanings. Certain interpretations, however, can be eliminated. The beasts, for example, cannot have referred to the Peaceable Kingdom, because at the right end of the floor a deer is being ferociously devoured by a leopard with blood dripping from its jaws (fig. 47). Nor can the trees and flying birds represent the Earthly Paradise, 38 because their imagery is seasonal; as we have seen in the last chapter, there were no seasons in the Early Christian view of Paradise. 39 There is little to indicate that the trees and their associated creatures were intended in any more than their literal sense; that is, they illustrated terrestrial nature red in tooth and claw and in all its changeability. But the central composition of the vine, with its heavy wreathlike frame in front of the main entrance, is clearly separated from the rest of the floor and thus asks to be interpreted in a different manner. It has been suggested that the vine and its associated creatures and plants represent the Earthly Paradise. 40 However, the central composition cannot be a literal portrayal of the Garden of Eden, for the motifs enclosed within the wreath fit neither the biblical nor the patristic descriptions of the Earthly Paradise. Both the Book of Genesis and Early Christian writers agreed that the Earthly Paradise was furnished with a variety of fruit trees and with the four rivers, which flowed from a single river, or from a fountain. Some commentators, such as Severian of Gab ala, kept to the letter of the text of Genesis 2:10 and described the source of the Rivers of Paradise as a river (potamos). 41 But other Early Christian writers described a splendid spring or fountain in Eden, from which the rivers flowed; they took their cue from an earlier verse of Genesis, 2:6, which speaks of a fount (pege) that "went up ... from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground." A vitus, for example, favors us with a poetic description of the rivers flowing from their source: Here a fountain rises resplendent with a transparent flood. Such grace does not shine in silver, nor do crystals of glistening frost shine with such a light. Emeralds glinted on the edges of its banks, and gems that are admiringly boasted of in [our] world, lie there as [ordinary] stones. The fields display varied colors, and paint the meadows with a natural diadem. A river, drawn out from the gentle vortex of the fountain, is immediately divided into four ample streams. 42 At a slightly later date, in the mid-sixth century, the geographer Cosmas Indicopleustes also spoke of the rivers coming from the fountain in Eden, and we have seen that the four rivers were shown flowing out of Paradise in copies of his map of the world (fig. 13). 43 Besides the four rivers and their source, fruit trees were an essential part of the Early Christian conception of the Earthly Paradise. The Book of Genesis (2:9) describes how in Paradise God made to grow "every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food." Epiphanius of Salamis said that the trees of Paradise are similar to our trees, just as the Rivers of Paradise are similar to our rivers, and he specifically mentioned the fig tree, which provided Adam and Eve with their aprons. 44 In the map preserved in the manuscripts of Cosmas Indicopleustes, the rectangle representing the Earthly Paradise is filled with a line of fruit trees (fig. 13). In the mosaic at Heraklea, however, the central composition does not enclose fruit trees, but only a vine and smaller plants. And although the vine grows from a vase (cantharos), there are no streams or rivers to be seen. It is therefore difficult to read these motifs as a portrayal of the Earthly Paradise in its literal sense. 45

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Another possibility is that the designer of the floor intended the vine and its associated motifs to be interpreted in the same manner as St. Basil interpreted the vine in his description of the world. In other words, the central motifs were intended to be read both as signs-that is, as parts of Creation-and as symbols of the faith. Viewed on one level, the visual structure of the central composition is parallel to that of the flanking trees with their associated plants and creatures. Like the trees, the vine fills the height of the frame; smaller plants grow beneath it, animals stand below, and birds appear in the branches above. At this level, we can follow St. Basil and read the vine in its literal sense as another earthly plant, while the deer and the peacocks represent terrestrial creatures that are companions to the other creatures in the mosaic. But the emphatic frame dividing this central composition from the rest of the floor indicates that these plants and animals probably have another level of meanings over and above the literal. The vine, then, would also be a symbol, whether of Christ, or of his Church, or of the Christian soul, or of the Eucharist. In this respect the floor at Heraklea resembles that of SS. Cosmas and Damian at Gerasa, which also gave special prominence to a vine that can be read both as a symbol and as a part of Creation (figs. 38 and 39). The artificial posing of the animals at the center of the mosaic also underlines their metaphorical character and helps to identify them as symbols. Unlike the animals under the fruit trees, such as the lion, the bull, and the leopard, which attack with naturalistic fury, the central deer stand frozen and timeless in symmetrical poses on either side of the cantharos. Likewise, the two peacocks face each other in mirror image across the upper branches of the vine, in contrast to the other birds in the treetops, which have been caught by the artist in realistic poses of flight. However, if it is clear from their presentation that the central deer and the peacocks are symbols, it is less clear what their precise interpretation should be, especially since there are no inscriptions to help us. In such a case, we can only try to circumscribe their potential range of meanings (that is, their semantic field) by referring to other Early Christian monuments in which these creatures appear as symbols. 46 There is, for example, a well-known floor mosaic in the antechamber to the baptistery at Salona that shows two stags drinking from a cantharos beneath an inscription. The Salona inscription does not identify the subject as the Earthly Paradise but instead connects the motifwith baptism by quoting the first verse of Psalm 41: "As the hart longs for the water fountains so longs my soul for thee, 0 God. " 47 According to St. Augustine, writing at the end of the fourth century in North Africa, this verse was chanted by catechumens as they went to the font. 48 In other contexts the motif of deer flanking a vase could refer not so much to baptism as to the Eucharist. For example, a pair of stags flanking a handleless vase appears in a sixth-century mosaic immediately behind the presumed location of an altar in a basilica at Skhira in Tunisia (fig. 50). 49 As at Heraklea, two rinceaux spring from the vase and spread their tendrils around the deer on either side. An apothegm of Abbot Poemon, a desert father who lived in the fourth or fifth century, illustrates how the water imagery of Psalm 41 could be related to the communion: It is written: "As the hart longs for the water fountains so longs my soul for thee, 0 God." In effect, the harts in the desert swallow many reptiles, and when the venom burns them, they long to come to waters, because by drinking they assuage the burning of the reptiles' venom. So also with the monks who stay in the desert; they are burned by the venom of bad demons and they long for Saturday and for Sunday, in order to come to the water fountains, that is to say, to the body and to the blood of the Lord, to be purified from the bitterness of Evil. 50

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The combined evidence of mosaics and texts, then, shows us that in Early Christian floor mosaics the image of the deer flanking a vase could be used in several contexts; its references may be eucharistic as well as baptismal. Early Christian writers indeed applied the metaphor of the deer at the fountains to many different aspects of the Christian's longing for God. For St. Augustine the image brought to mind the "fountain of truth"; 51 for the author of a commentary once attributed to St. Jerome it suggested the desire of the faithful for eternal life; 52 for St. Basil it represented the just who seek the fresh springs of theology. 53 It is therefore best not to interpret the deer at Heraklea too narrowly, but to read them in a general sense as open symbols of the faithful aspiring to Christ. Like the deer, the two peacocks in the upper tendrils of the vine can be read both literally and symbolically. At the literal level they represent especially beautiful ornaments of Creation, and they were described as such in texts on the Hexaemeron. In his poem on the created world, George of Pisidia devotes two separate passages to the splendors of the peacock's plumage. In the first passage, which comes in his description of birds and insects, he declares: "How could anyone who sees the peacock not be amazed at the gold interwoven with sapphire, at the purple and emerald green feathers, at the composition of the colors in many patterns, all mingled together but not confused with one another?" After this eulogy, George ofPisidia briefly turns his attention to humbler creatures. We should not only admire such marvels of nature as the peacock, he says, but we should also wonder at the intricate construction of such lowly species as the ant, the flea, and the locust. Then our author returns a second time to his original subject: "Once again, whence comes the beautiful peacock? The bird is refulgent and star-like in aspect, clad in purple plumage, because of which, boastful and arrogant in its appearance, it streams alone through all of the other birds. This purple has twined patterns on the bird without its toil, and has mixed a plentiful stream of many colors. " 54 Other Byzantine writers, such as Gregory of Nazianzus, also included the peacock in their accounts of the world created by God and described its beauties at length. 55 This admiration of the peacock for its own sake, as a supreme ornament of God's handiwork, should caution us against always reading symbolic meanings into this bird when it appears alongside other creatures in Christian art. For Byzantine ·writers at least, the principal significance of the peacock, when considered in the context of Creation, was not its symbolism but its outstanding beauty. However, at Heraklea there must be another level of meaning. Since the symmetrical posing of the peacocks distinguishes them from the other birds portrayed on the floor, and since they are part of the composition that is separated by the central frame, it is probable that the designer at Heraklea did intend them to be read in a symbolic sense in addition to their literal sense as creatures of spectacular appearance. As in the case of the deer, it is best not to give too restricted a meaning to the symbolism of the peacocks in the mosaic. In a general way the peacock had been linked since the Roman period with immortality and eternal life. There were several reasons for this association, which arose from the actual or supposed physical characteristics of the bird. First, the peacock annually shed its tail feathers in winter and renewed them in the spring. 56 Second, there was a tradition, verified by St. Augustine through an empirical experiment, that the peacock's flesh was incorruptible. 57 Finally, poets from Ovid to George of Pisidia compared the eyelike markings of its tail feathers to stars. 58 The bird was associated with Juno and became a symbol of apotheosis; it appeared, for example, on coins struck to commemorate the consecration of dead empresses. 59 The peacock frequently appeared in Christian funerary art, in tomb paintings, on carved sarcophagi, and in the mosaics that covered graves in North Africa. 60 In many cases, for

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instance in a fourth-century painted tomb at Nicaea (fig. 51), 61 and on several fifth- and sixth-century sarcophagi at Ravenna, 62 the birds flank a cantharos, as at Heraklea. The arrangement of the deer and the peacocks on the floor at Heraklea is reminiscent of the alterations made to the mosaics at Butrinto and Nea Anchialos, which were described in chapter I. 63 In the baptistery at Butrinto, a composition of medallions containing a variety of creatures of land and water was interrupted by two panels that were inserted on the axis of the main entrance. One of these panels showed a vine growing from a vase that was flanked by two peacocks (fig. r). The other panel displayed a small fountain flanked by two symmetrical deer. It seems that these two motifs were inserted separately into the existing design because they were considered more meaningful and more significant than the assorted creatures enclosed by the medallions. In Basilica "C" at Nea Anchialos, a design of two deer flanking a fountain was superimposed over a carpet ofbirds, sea life, and fruit. Here again, the symmetrically placed deer seem to have been invested with more significance than the underlying images of assorted creatures. The same kind of distinction was evidently made between the creatures portrayed on the floor at Heraklea; the varied animals under the trees were to be interpreted in their literal sense, as nature red in tooth and claw, but the symmetrically paired peacocks and deer within the central frame also were to be taken as symbols of the Christian's faith, which sets the believer entering the church apart from the violence and instability of the temporal world. Finally, we should consider the aquatic border that encircles the whole of the mosaic at Heraklea. Here again there are no inscriptions, and there is nothing in the composition of most of the motifs in the octagons to prompt the viewer to read them in any more than their literal sense-as signs representing the life of the waters. However, in one of the octagons we find two fish that are not set side by side, as they are in other frames of the border, but lie at right angles to each other so that they form a cross aligned with the main axis of the church (fig. 48). This motif is clearly more than a sign of the sea; it is also a symbol of salvation. Many of the commentaries on the created world referred to the saving power of the waters. Already in the second century Theophilus of Antioch said that the creatures made from the waters on the fifth day were blessed by God so that this might serve as a pattern for the regeneration of Christians through water. 64 St. Ambrose, in his discussion of the sea, also referred to baptism and used the sea as a metaphor for the Gospel. 65 We have seen that Severian of Gab ala, in his primarily literal account of Creation, associated the creatures from the waters with the saving power of baptism. 66 In the sixth century, Procopius of Gaza also spoke of those who saw in the spirit of God moving upon the waters "the grace of holy baptism right from the beginning of the world. " 67 In summary, it is possible to read all of the motifs on the floor, including those on the central axis, as signs representing the plants and creatures ofland and water, together with the seasons. However, the designer indicated by compositional means that he intended certain motifs to carry a second level of meaning; the symbolic elements of the floor are to be found in the framed central composition, which breaks the line of trees, and in one of the octagons of the border, in which the fish form a cross. The structure of the floor was akin to those literary descriptions of the world that presented its natural history literally for the most part but made symbols of selected motifs.

IV

The Gathering of the Waters

THE TEXTUAL TRADITION

M

ANY of the Early Christian commentators on Genesis related the original Creation to its eventual renewal by Christ. For example, Theodore of Mopsuestia, the Cilician bishop who wrote in the late fourth or early fifth century, stated not only that God made the world and "adorned everything with great variety," but also that He had in mind from the beginning the renewal of the world, for "in Christ Creation is new, the old has passed away, and behold!, the whole is renewed." Moreover, Theodore, following St. Paul, adds that just as the creature is renewed in Christ, so we too as individuals have hope of salvation. 1 These ideas were expressed by other writers through detailed allegories that made specific aspects of Creation into types of the world's renewal by Christ, or of the salvation of individual Christians. The allegorizing writers whose work we shall consider in the following two chapters include Theophilus of Antioch, of the second century, Origen, of the third, and Didymus of Alexandria, a follower of Origen who lived in the fourth century. Among the Latin authors, the late fourth-century father St. Ambrose of Milan also falls into this category, as does the unknown writer of a sermon on the Hexameron that is included among the spurious works of St. Augustine. Some of the most intricate allegories are to be found in the twelve books of commentaries on the Hexaemeron by Anastasios, which are difficult to date. It can be said for certain that the commentaries are later than the works of Pseudo-Dionysios, since they quote this late fifth-century thinker. They were attributed to Anastasios Sinaites, a monk of Mount Sinai who lived in the second half of the seventh century, and although later dates have been proposed, there are aspects of the commentaries that support an attribution to his period. 2

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Whatever the date of the author of the commentaries, it is clear that he drew extensively on Early Christian exegesis. It is also possible that he had lived in or near Egypt, a country with which he showed some familiarity and concern. The general theme that we shall explore in this chapter is that the "waters under heaven," which God "congregated together" on the third day of Creation (Genesis 1:9), represented the congregations of the world, of varying beliefs, which are gathered together into one Christian faith. Theophilus of Antioch, whose second book to Autolycus contains a commentary on the Hexaemeron, already hints at this allegory when he writes that the well-watered islands in the sea represent churches, which are havens for faithful Christians, while the barren islands represent heresies. According to Theophilus, the sea itself represents the world, which is nourished by the rivers and springs of God's law that flow into it. 3 There is a long discussion of the gathering of the waters in the homilies on the six days of Creation by St. Ambrose of Milan. Although St. Ambrose's work owes much of its material to St. Basil's Hexaemeron, the Latin father includes much more allegory. According to Ambrose, the waters that were congregated together on the third day included the waters of the valleys, which signify the heresies of the Gentiles, and the waters from the marshes, which are the wallowing places for lusts and passions, where waterfowl are begrimed when they bathe and the sluggish turtle buries himself in murky waters. From the marshes and the valleys the waters are gathered together into one faith and into one Church, which, says St. Ambrose, "is founded upon the seas and is prepared upon the rivers. " 4 Finally, St. Ambrose concludes his discussion of the gathering of the waters with a reference to baptism through the river Jordan. 5 The allegory of the waters as the congregations of the world reappears in a short Latin sermon on the Hexameron that was wrongly attributed to St. Augustine. The author, taking his cue from Revelation I7:I5, identifies the waters of Creation as the peoples and the nations. In this homily the division of the waters described in the seventh verse of the first chapter of Genesis becomes the division of the Jews and the Christians. 6 Since the works of the latest of our writers, Anastasios, contain the richest and the most complex symbolism of all the surviving allegories, and since they are not well known, we shall look at them in more detail. In his commentaries Anastasios says that the "ancient creation of the world was a foreshadowing, for it contained the type of the Church, " 7 and, like Theodore of Mopsuestia, he maintains that "in the Creation of the universe in six days Christ earlier described and prefigured images and figures of the new creature in Christ. " 8 These concepts are elaborated throughout the commentaries in a series of complicated and overlapping allegories that are based on the text of Genesis. For example, in the sixth book we find that the sequence of Creation is compared to the stages of Christ's life. The author points out that God did not finish working on the earth, the waters, and the firmament at one time, but that he moved from one to the other and then back again, a program that foreshadowed the career of Christ. For our Lord was born in Bethlehem but left the imperfect and unfruitful earth of Israel; this part of the Lord's life corresponded to the first two verses of the first chapter of Genesis, which describe how God created the earth but left it "without form." Then Christ fled into Egypt, coming to the barbaric waters of the Nile, that is, to the Gentiles. When he had not yet congregated the waters into one congregation (Genesis 1:9), Christ returned to the earth of Israel, which produced a little grass and a few fruitful trees, that is, his disciples (the creation of plants, verse rr). Immediately, leaving the culture of the Jews, the Sun ofJustice came again to the streams of the Jordan, creating the light of baptism (the creation of the heavenly bodies, verses 14-17). Afterward, Christ blessed the waters (verse 22). Then he turned again to the

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earth, that is, to the Israelites, and took care of them and cured their ills (the creation of the beasts of the earth, verse 24). From the earth he went to the abyss, that is, from the cross to hell, so that he could proclaim remission to those incarcerated below. Then, when Christ had been resurrected, he returned from the earth to the firmament and to God. From there he again caused the waters of the nations to bring forth living creatures (verse 20), sending down on them from above the life-giving Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Anastasios now moves on to consider the birds that were created from the waters, and identifies them with the saints who baptized and were baptized, such as Paul, Philip, and the good thief, who flew to Paradise from the water that flowed from Christ's side. Here the commentary quotes the line of Matthew 24:28 and of Luke r7:37: "For wherever the corpse is, there will the eagles congregate." Anastasios gives two alternative interpretations of this passage. The first is that eagles will gather together where the corpse of the dead robber is, that is, in Paradise. The second explanation is that "where [Christ's] holy body died, there he has congregated us, so that we can participate in Him. For when he was raised up high on the cross he congregated the gentiles, and the birds of the gentiles born from the water, so that they could imitate his passion and his cross. " 9 In the third book of the commentaries we find a more extended allegory of the ninth verse of the first chapter of Genesis, which reads: "And God said, let the waters under the heaven be congregated together." First Anastasios lists the various divisions of the water, the lakes, the streams, the rivers, and the seas. He names the four Rivers of Paradise, refers to the fountain in Paradise, and claims that the Dead Sea is a symbol of the Jewish congregation, which he says is infertile and lifeless. On the other hand, the waters that were formerly infertile and now are fertile symbolize the Christians, who live productively in the Spirit and in the water of baptism. The river Nile is an example of water that brings fertility. Anastasios mentions the waters that are divided among islands, just as congregations are divided. He lists the heretical waters and the pagan waters of astrology and divination, which are not only obscure and difficult to interpret but also are bitter, sterile, and poisonous; they represent the congregations of Diana, of Apollo, and of Pythia (the priestess of the Delphic oracle). The commentary also lists the Jewish synagogue and concludes the list by saying that God ordered all of these impious waters, or congregations, to be gathered together into one congregation of faith. From the northern, southern, western, and eastern limits of the earth the waters, or the barbaric races, were gathered together, as if by some divine Spirit, which is "carried over the waters," like the Spirit of God at the beginning of Creation. Now also we can see all peoples united together into one Church by the Holy Spirit, which is carried over the gentile faith, especially on the day of Pentecost. 10 Somewhat later in the same book our author, still elaborating on the gathering of the waters, returns to the theme of baptism: "The water came together, for those who baptize hasten. May the water be sanctified, for the Forerunner came before, to whom the waters of the people ran." Once more we find the image of Christ as the sun: "Those congregated waters showed the light of the earth: and in the coming together of the waters of the gentiles, the Sun ofJustice arose. " 11 Finally, Anastasios relates the gathering of the waters to the creation of plants and fruits, which he associates with the fruits of human nature and with the bread of heaven: "Before that congregation of water, the earth did not show forth fruit in any way; just as human nature also did not possess fruit, that is virtues, before the congregation of the Church of Christ. Through the congregation of the original water man ate bread, and in our congregation, that is of the nations, a heavenly food was manifested .... For God made man fruitful and fertile and not dry .... So history said that God called the dry land earth, inasmuch as man

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may be called in other respects from infertility to fertility through Christ and may be renewed. "' 2 A few lines further on the text launches into another long and complicated allegory, which involves the Creation, the infancy of Christ, and the river Nile. Anastasios says that when the Nile rises annually in Egypt there is darkness upon the waters, and the earth is unseen, just as is described in the second verse of Genesis. Moreover, the wind moves over the Nile like the spirit of God over the waters. At this time the Nile floods Egypt like a sea, and lands that were formerly arable are made navigable. However, when the flood recedes, the waters are gathered into ditches and rivers, the marshes become firm, the fields sprout, and the villages rise up again as if exposed from the depths of the waters. This is a figure of Christ, the light of the world, who fled from Bethlehem to Egypt; immediately after Christ arrived, the land of Egypt was uncovered and put off its dark and watery veil of error, putting on instead the light of the Sun of Justice. It fixed its eyes on Christ, and it knew Him and adored Him, having previously been blinded by the waters of ignorance. Our author concludes this allegory by pleading: "Let not the foolish listener laugh at what is said: but let him believe him who said 'God made everything in His wisdom.' For you will acknowledge completely with us that God established in Egypt this miracle of the rising of the waters and of their return to their former place in order to exhort our piety and to bring about our belief concerning the Creation of the world. "' 3 Just as Anastasios had been anticipated in his allegories of the gathering of the waters, so too he was not the first writer to make allegories out of the land of Egypt and its river Nile. For example, Origen had interpreted Egypt as this world, to which the Son of God descended. 14 The sixth-century Byzantine poet Romanos, in his hymn on the Holy Innocents, used Egypt in a figurative sense, if not as an allegory. Like the commentaries attributed to Anastasios, the poem of Romanos contrasted Egypt with the sterile land of the Jews and also related the fertility brought by the Nile to the arrival of Christ in that land: "Winter prevailed when Mary brought forth the uncultivated grape. . . . For the fruit of the only pure Virgin, with the vine, is destined to flee into Egypt, and be planted there and give fruit. It flees the land of the Jews, a waste land empty of all benefit, it arrived at the fruitful Nile . . . overthrowing there all their idols." 15 We shall now turn to a floor mosaic that links Creation to salvation through a network of overlapping symbols corresponding in some detail to the allegorizing commentaries on the Hexaemeron.

THE EAST CHURCH AT QASR-EL-LEBIA: THE ICONOGRAPHIC PROBLEM One of the most intriguing and the most puzzling of the works of art to have come down to us from the Justinianic period is the mosaic floor in the nave of the East Church at Qasr-el-Lebia in eastern Libya. 16 The message of this mosaic is partly concerned with the refounding of the town in which it is situated. We do not know the original name of the site, but it may have been the ancient Olbia, the seat of a bishopric. The town was apparently refounded by Justinian during the Byzantine reorganization of Cyrenaica. We shall see that the mosaic itself provides evidence for this, as one of its inscriptions tells us that the restored town was renamed Theodorias, after Justinian's empress. The Byzantines evidently provided the new town with ecclesi-

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astical buildings and with a fort, which still partly survives. ' 7 It appears that here, as at the monastery Justinian built at Mount Sinai, the rebuilding of military and religious buildings went hand in hand. ' 8 The mosaic can be dated by its principal inscription, which gives an indiction number probably corresponding to the years 539-40, during the joint reign ofJustinian and Theodora. 19 The mosaic floor occupies only the half of the nave that is farthest from the altar-the eastern half in this case. The other half of the nave, toward the chancel, had a paving of plain marble. 20 The rectangular field of the mosaic is divided into fifty square panels, a little like a giant crossword puzzle (fig. 52). 21 The panels contain an extraordinary variety of subjects. The square in the center of the western row, nearest the chancel, frames a view of the town itself, identified by an inscription as the "New Town Theodorias" (fig. 53). The city is flanked by two female personifications in the adjoining squares, who also are labeled by inscriptions. On the right we find "Ktisis," which can either be translated as "Foundation" or as "Creation." This lady holds a wreath and a palm branch, which she proffers to the city (fig. 54). On the left is "Kosmesis," or "Adornment." She holds a censer in her right hand and swings it gently toward Theodorias (fig. 55). These figures are flanked, in the squares at either end of the western row, by a pair of antelope, or gazelles, with bells tied around their necks; one stands in front of a pomegranate tree, the other lies down before a pear tree. In the center of the next row to the east we find another female personification, "Ananeosis," or "Renewal," who also is identified by an inscription. She is framed by an aedicula and holds a basket that contains either fruit or bread (fig. 56). 22 This personification is flanked by two of the Rivers of Paradise, labeled "Goon" and "Phison" (fig. 57). The panels at either end of this row show typical flora and fauna of the river Nile: lotus plants, ducks, fish, and two flamingoes. One of the ducks sits in a lotus cup, a motif that also appeared in the water borders of the mosaics of Earth and Ocean at Nikopolis and Heraklea. In the following row we find an assortment of creatures. The central square contains an eagle rending a deer that is lying on its back; blood trickles from the gashes made by the eagle's claws (fig. 58). In the panels on either side of the eagle there are two lions, and in the end panels two stags: The stag on the left is killing and eating a serpent, which it bites behind the head (fig. 59). In the next row we have a surprise: Reclining voluptuously in the center, and identified by a legend, is "Castalia," the spring of a pagan oracle (fig. 6o). She could either be the fountain at Delphi or the one at Daphne, the suburb of Antioch. In late antique and Early Christian writers, the Castalian spring at Delphi came to represent the prophetic claims of the oracle there. 23 But there was also a prophetic spring named Castalia at Daphne, which was pictured as a fountain on a floor mosaic discovered at Antioch. 24 In the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia, the oracle is flanked by the two remaining Rivers of Paradise, "Tigris" and "Euphrates." At the two ends of the row come more animals: a leaping bear on the left, and a duck standing on the back of a fat crocodile on the right. This last motif was part of the Nilotic repertoire both in art and in literature; George of Pisidia, for example, in his poem on the created world, speaks of the birds that befriend crocodiles. 25 In the next row, approximately in the center of the mosaic, we find an inscription that informs us that the mosaic was made in the time of Bishop Makarios, and it gives the date, probably equivalent to 539-40. 26 This inscription is flanked by two sheep, which stand in front of trees, and by two bulls in the outer panels. Below the inscription, in the center of the following row, is a building with a pedimented facade carried on four columns, behind which can be seen three doorways (fig. 61). This

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structure has been variously identified as a pagan temple, as a synagogue, and as a church. 27 The square to its left contains a horseman, and the one to its right a riderless horse tethered to a tree. On the far right we find another Nilotic scene, with lotus plants and ducks, and on the far left two fish and a spiral shell. In the succeeding row a splendid peacock displays his tail feathers in the central panel. To the left of this bird there is a view of a walled town or a fortress; to the peacock's right there are two guinea fowl flanking a pomegranate tree that grows out of a chalice-shaped vase. The outer panels both contain ostriches. In the center of the next row we see a seated shepherd playing an instrument resembling a lute (fig. 62). With his music he has attracted a goat-footed Pan, who leaps toward him from the left, and perhaps he has also charmed the leopard on the right, which turns its head as if to listen to the sounds. Flanking these three panels, at the ends of the row, come more sea creatures: a lobster, several fish, and another half-human creature, a triton. In the next row we find more creatures, with the marine life once more at the ends. In the center stands a bull browsing off a plant; in the squares to either side of him are a ram and four birds gathered around a basket. The ocean dwellers in the outer panels are a crab, a squid, a dolphin, and a doglike sea monster. The squares of the last, or eastern, row are all connected with water. We see fish, more sea monsters, shells, and a squid. The central panel displays a building labeled with the inscription "The Lighthouse" (fig. 63). It is approached in the square to the right by a boat containing two sailors, both of whom look at the beacon. The lighthouse itself is crowned at its center by a nude statue of a man with a halo of rays around his head. Because of this figure, the lighthouse may resemble the famous one at Alexandria, which may have been crowned by a statue of Helios. 28 The lighthouse of Alexandria was part of the repertoire of Nilotic subjects. It was shown, for example, in a floor mosaic depicting the Nile in the Justinianic church of St. John the Baptist at Gerasa. 29 Few would deny that the nave floor of the East Church at Qasr-el-Lebia presents a strangely miscellaneous collection of images, and one's first reaction might be to dismiss the whole floor as a random hodgepodge of motifs that the artists drew from some pattern book and therefore are unconnected by any intellectual logic. 30 However, the many inscriptions and the presence of personifications such as Ananeosis (Renewal) suggest that whoever designed this floor had some meanings in mind; the floor is not pure decoration. Also, the nave mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia is far richer in its imagery than mosaics on a comparable scale by the same school of craftsmen elsewhere. 31 In the approximately contemporary nave floor of the "Cathedral" at Cyrene, for example, the square panels contain only birds, animals, and some scenes of rural life, such as milking or harvesting; there are no inscriptions and no personifications, Although many of the original 126 panels of the Cyrene mosaic are lost, enough survive from all areas of the floor, including the important central axis, to show that its iconographic range was originally much more restricted than at Qasr-el-Lebia. 32 The mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia was unusual in Cyrenaica for the density and diversity of its subject matter. Clearly its designer, who may well have been the patron, intended it to carry a greater weight of meanings than such floors as the one in the nave of the "Cathedral" of Cyrene. Once we start trying to discover what were the intended meanings of the Qasr-el-Lebia mosaic, however, we run into all kinds of problems. Why, for example, do we find the pagan oracle Castalia, reclining at ease among the four Rivers of Paradise (fig. 6o)? Is the building below the central inscription supposed to be a church, a synagogue, or a temple (fig. 6r)? The creatures portrayed on the mosaic pose special difficulties of interpretation. Some of them occur

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elsewhere in early Byzantine art with definite symbolic connotations. The deer eating a serpent, for example, was, according to Early Christian writers, a symbol of the fight that Christ or the Christian has to make against the devil (fig. 59). 33 Swallowing the snake was said to give the deer a great thirst, which he cured by finding water. The story thus became an apt symbol for baptism, because catechumens cured themselves from the devil's venom by going to the font. 34 Sometimes the subject was portrayed in baptisteries, such as the Byzantine baptistery at Henchir Messaouda in Tunisia, where a floor mosaic showed two stags with serpents in their mouths. 35 But if the stag seizing the serpent was intended to represent the Christian, or Christ himself, overcoming the devil, what meaning can be attributed to the motif of the deer being seized by the eagle, which at Qasr-el-Lebia appears two squares to the right of the stag (fig. 58)? The eagle sometimes symbolizes Christ in Early Christian literature, and the motif at Qasr-el-Lebia has been interpreted in the sense of the victory of Christ over evil. 36 But if the eagle here is Christ, why does it bloodily rend a deer, the animal that in the panel just to the left could have represented the Christian or Christ himself? 37 Should this change be interpreted as an example of linear ambivalence of the type discussed in chapter I, in which the meaning of the deer changes from one panel to the next? And what are we to make of the other creatures on the floor, such as the Nilotic fauna? Were they also charged with symbolic meanings, or were they simply put in as decorative fillers? And how are we to interpret the lighthouse at the eastern end of the floor (fig. 63)? In certain Early Christian tomb sculptures from Italy, the lighthouse was used as a symbol of safety. 38 An especially interesting example is a schematic engraving on a broken tomb cover from the catacomb of St. Callixtus in Rome, which encloses the inscription "Aorata," or "invisible things," within the outline of a lighthouse; the letters that make up the word are arranged so as to form the pattern of the Christogram. 39 Parallels of this kind pose the problem of whether the lighthouse at Qasr-el-Lebia was intended to be read as a symbol, or whether it was simply to be interpreted as a sign signifying the Nile. These questions have provoked many scholars into attempting to decipher the mosaic. Several interesting interpretations have been put forward by Andre Grabar, who has proposed, for example, that the Castalian spring reclines among the Rivers of Paradise because she is asleep and silenced by the four Rivers; in other words, the pagan oracle is silenced by the four Gospels. 40 I believe that this interpretation comes near to the truth, but that it does not take into account the context given by the floor as a whole. If we consider the subject matter of the floor in its entirety, we can see the relationship of Castalia to the Rivers of Paradise in a somewhat different light. Another interpretation proposed by Grabar is that the complete floor represents the earth and the ocean. 4 ' A strong argument for this view is the extraordinary variety of natural history to be seen in this mosaic, which includes wild and domestic animals, fruits and plants, birds of all kinds, fish, molluscs and sea monsters, and the rivers and springs of the world. As Grabar has noted, the general layout of the motifs also corresponds to some extent to the diagram of the Earth surrounded by water that we have encountered in other mosaics. All of the aquatic creatures, including the water birds, are placed in the outside panels, just as water creatures occupy the edges of the mosaics of Earth and Ocean at Nikopolis, Tegea, Khalde, and Heraklea. At Qasr-el-Lebia, as at Nikopolis and Heraklea, river life, especially Nilotic flora and fauna, is mingled with marine life in the outside frames. In the Libyan church the boat and the lighthouse also are shown in panels at the edge of the floor. It is true that not all of the outer panels at Qasr-el-Lebia contain motifs associated with water, but the concentration of sea and river creatures into the perimeter of the mosaic is striking. It is hard to believe that the arrangement was totally accidental. The personifications of Castalia and of the Rivers of Para-

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dise do, of course, appear in the central area of the floor among the motifs signifying the "land," but we have already seen a parallel for this in the mosaic at Tegea, where the four rivers and the twelve months are enclosed by a border of water creatures (fig. I 5). The layout of the motifs at Qasr-el-Lebia and, even more, their variety make it reasonable to suppose that the mosaic was intended to portray the land and the waters.

THE MEANING OF KTISIS Another interesting hypothesis concerning the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia has been proposed by Sandro Stucchi, who suggested that the subject of the whole floor is God's CreationY The clues for this interpretation are given by the two personifications at the top, Ktisis and Kosmesis (figs. 54 and 55), whom Stucchi interpreted as the Creation of the world (Ktisis) and its ordering and Adornment (Kosmesis) by God. Practically every other scholar, apart from Stucchi, has taken the two personifications to refer to the creation and adornment of the new town, Theodorias, which appears between them. 43 The principal argument for the latter interpretation is the undoubted similarity between the actions of the two personifications and the actions of donors portrayed in mosaics that survive in Jordan. The pose of Kosmesis swinging her censer, for example, has been compared with the pose of Theodore on the floor of the Justinianic basilica of SS. Cosmas and Damian at Gerasa (figs. 38 and 55), while Ktisis holding her branch resembles Soreg in the sanctuary mosaic of the church of Elias, Mary, and Soreg in the same city. 44 In the church of SS. Cosmas and Damian at Gerasa the donors Theodore and Georgia occupy the same positions as Kosmesis and Ktisis at Qasr-el-Lebia; they stand at the end of the nave mosaic nearest the chancel, and they flank a central panel, which in the Gerasa mosaic contains a dedicatory inscription. Parallels in inscriptions from other sites also suggest that Ktisis should refer to the "New Town Theodorias." The use of this word to mean the refoundation of a city is attested by an earlier inscription of the late first century B. c. or the early first century A. D., which was found at Istros. 45 Somewhat nearer in date is the personification labeled "Ktisis," which adorns the "Long Mosaic Room" in the fifth-century baths of Eustolios at Curium, on the island of Cyprus (fig. 64). There can be little doubt that the Ktisis at Curium refers to the foundation and construction of the baths themselves, for the woman is shown holding up a metal rod with squared ends that is almost precisely a late Roman foot in length. She stares intently at this builder's measure. 46 In view of these parallels, it seems likely that the principal reference of Ktisis and Kosmesis in the floor at Qasr-el-Lebia is to Justinian's refoundation of the town Theodorias, and perhaps also to the building of the church itself and to its decoration. However, even if the primary reference of Ktisis and Kosmesis is to the foundation and adornment of the city, it is possible that they also imply another secondary meaning, which is that the founders' actions emulated those of God, who created the world and, in the words of the Cilician bishop Theodore of Mopsuestia, "adorned everything with great variety. "47 In other words, at Qasr-el-Lebia Ktisis and Kosmesis had a double sense, referring both to human and to divine actions. 48 The parallel between divine and human creation was often presented in Byzantine texts; God had made man in his own image, and the works of man also were considered to mirror those of God. This concept was expressed succinctly in a sermon by Basil of Seleucia, a fifth-century archbishop in Isauria, who wrote that men reproduce the likeness of the Creator not only when

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they make paintings of Him but also through their own actions: "[Man] ... as if sitting on a throne, shows the image of the Creator through the dignity of his works, imitating his Maker with his own actions as with colors. For man puts his own hand to creating, and desires to fabricate, and constructs houses, and fits together boats, and joins beds, and constructs tables, and thus playing at creation he imitates the hands of the Maker. " 49 About the same time, Theodoret of Cyrus, the bishop of a small town near Antioch, was saying in his commentary on Genesis that "man imitates the God who made him by building dwellings, walls, towns, harbors, boats, dockyards, chariots, and countless other things," just as man makes "images of the heavens, of the sun, the moon, and the stars, as well as likenesses of humans and images of animals. " 50 The comparison between human and divine creativity was even incorporated into medieval liturgies for the consecration of churches, in which God, who had created the world, was called upon to bless those who had constructed the house of God on earth. 5 ' The early Byzantine commentators frequently compared the Creator to a king who founds a city. The idea had already appeared in the commentary on the Creation by the Jewish author Philo, who compared God, the designer of the world, to an architect who plans a city in his mind for "some king or governor, who ... being magnificent in his ideas wishes to add a fresh lustre to his good fortune." 52 In the late fourth or the early fifth century, Theodore of Mopsuestia also compared the Creation to the building of a city: "Just as if some king, having constructed a very ample city, and having adorned it with many and varied works, would order his portrait-as large and as beautiful as possible-to be erected in the middle of the town ... so the Maker of Creation made the whole universe, and embellished it with diverse and varied works, but in the last place he produced man in the place of his portrait. " 53 The same simile was used by the sixth-century geographer Cosmas Indicopleustes in his discussion of the days of Creation. 54 Another literary source is especially relevant here, because it specifically concerns Justinian, who was ultimately responsible for the refoundation of Theodorias, and thus for the church and the mosaics that it contained. This text is a hymn of Romanos, bearing the title On Earthquakes and Fires, in which the poet celebrated Justinian's rebuilding of Constantinople, and especially of the Great Church of St. Sophia after the Nika riots of 532. 55 As Eva CatafygiotuTopping has shown, through the structure and language of his poem Romanos drew a series of parallels between Christ who created and renews the world and the Emperor who rebuilt Constantinople. 56 Early Byzantine art provides some apparent parallels to these texts that associate God and man as creators. Sometimes the idea was implicitly expressed through an inscription, as in the case of the early seventh-century mosaic that fills the nave of the Theotokos chapel attached to the south aisle of the basilica at Mount Nebo in Jordan. The inscription runs across the eastern end of the floor and occupies a prominent position in front of the sanctuary. It reads: "0 Creator and Maker of all things, Christ our God, the entire work of the Theotokos was finished with the vow of our holy father, Bishop Leontios, by the exertion and effort of Martyrius and Theodore, priests and abbots. " 57 Here, then, as in the sermons, the commentaries, and the liturgies of consecration, God the Creator was juxtaposed with the mortal builders responsible for the church. It is possible that the title "Creator and Maker of all things" referred to the very creatures and plants depicted on the floor to which the inscription was attached. The rectangular mosaic was divided into three panels, of which the eastern one displayed stylized flowers, the central one showed a bowman and a spearman hunting game in a landscape, and the western one presented an assortment of motifs, including birds and several varieties of fruit. Among the latter we can recognize pears, pomegranates, bunches of grapes,

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and a freshly cut melon with the knife still lying beside it (fig. 6 5). 58 Whoever composed the inscription could well have had these images of the earth's bounty and abundance in mind when he invoked the "Creator and Maker of all things." There are other Byzantine mosaics in which Creation may have been portrayed with a double sense, human and divine. For example, a large collection of plants and animals was associated with a personification of Ktisis in a sixth-century mosaic of a house at Antioch, the so-called House of Ktisis (fig. 66). Here there was a square pavement, which displayed a labeled bust of Ktisis enclosed in a medallion at its center. The rest of the mosaic, which when excavated had suffered extensive damage, was divided into four triangular panels by four pomegranate trees placed along the diagonals. Within the triangular panels the designer placed a considerable variety of animals and birds, such as a leaping tiger seizing the rump of a wild ass, two horses, a peacock, and a peahen. In the background he scattered flowers and shrubs. 59 Even though this mosaic is in a house and not in a church, the bust of Ktisis may have carried a double sense here, referring not only to the foundation of the villa but also to the surrounding beasts, birds, and plants in this mosaic, which represented the divine Creation and renewal that was imitated by builders on earth. The basilica of Ras el-Hilal in Cyrenaica provides another possible instance of ktisis bearing a double meaning. This church has mosaics by the same workshop that was responsible for the Qasr-el-Lebia floor. At Ras el-Hilal personifications of "Ktisis" and "Kosmesis" flank the approach to the chancel at the end of the nave mosaic; each is identified by an inscription and is shown as a woman standing between two columns and holding her hands up in an attitude of prayer. 60 Again, the pose can be compared to donors in other mosaics, such as Georgia in the nave of SS. Cosmas and Damian at Gerasa, who also stands in the orans position (fig. 38). In the first place, then, Ktisis and Kosmesis at Ras el-Hilal appear to refer to the actions of the donors. 6 ' But the rest of the nave mosaic, insofar as it survives, suggests that its designer also could have intended to evoke the idea of "Creation," for the subjects portrayed are all birds, animals, and plants. In the three best-preserved panels, which are at the west end of the floor adjoining the personifications, we find a gazelle with a pomegranate tree, three birds, and a tiger with two hares. 62 In view of the parallels provided by contemporary texts and mosaics, we should consider the possibility that personifications of Ktisis and Kosmesis may express two strands of meaning in the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia: first, the actions of the founders of the city, that is, ofJustinian and Theodora and of their local agents; and second, the Creation of the world, which their actions imitated.

THE ALLEGORICAL MEANING If we take the second meaning of ktisis, that of Creation, and consider the variety of motifs from natural history that fill the pavement at Qasr-el-Lebia, we can read these images literally as signs representing the earth and the ocean. But the personification of Ananeosis (fig. 56) should encourage us to go further and to explore the possibility that the motifs here may carry additional symbolic meanings. In particular, we will discover that the particular selection of subjects in this mosaic closely matches the allegories of the gathering of the waters in commentaries on the Creation. In this tradition of exegesis, the gathering of the waters symbolized the congregation of the peoples and faiths of the world into one church. According to St. Am-

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brose, the waters included the heresies of the Gentiles. In the text attributed to Anastasios, the waters included the four Rivers of Paradise and also pagan waters such as the spring of the Delphic oracle, that is, Castalia. 63 Such allegories may explain the puzzling juxtaposition of Castalia and the four Rivers of Paradise that we see in the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia (figs. 52 and 6o); the pagan spring is not so much silenced as converted. 64 According to the commentary of Anastasios, the gathering of the waters allowed the earth to produce fruit and bread, which represent the renewed fruits of our human nature and the bread of heaven, "inasmuch as man may be called ... from infertility to fertility through Christ and may be renewed. " 65 Several motifs of the Qasr-el-Lebia mosaic correspond to this passage. Three of the panels contain prominent fruit trees, one of which is a pomegranate growing out of a chalice-shaped cup. Then there is the prominent personification of Renewal herself (fig. 56), shown holding a basket that contains fruit or bread. Ananeosis, of course, did not necessarily refer only to Christian renewal; 66 she could also be related to the refoundation of the town Theodorias. 67 As we shall see, in this mosaic the personification may have been intended to carry multiple meanings. Another concept that we found in the allegorizing texts on Creation, particularly those of Ambrose and Anastasios, is that the congregated waters symbolize the Christians who live in the water of baptism. 68 The image of the stag and serpent at Qasr-elLebia may correspond to this idea, since, as we have seen, the motif could be associated with the rite of baptism (fig. 59). 69 In the writings of Origen, Romanos, and Anastasios, the land of Egypt and the river Nile became figures, either of this world to which Christ descended, or of the Gentiles, or of the fertility brought by His arrival. The commentary attributed to Anastasios described in detail how the river covers the lands of Egypt with floods, like a sea that is navigable, but then recedes to expose the fertile fields and the villages. 70 This passage has a parallel in the Nilotic scenes around the edge of the mosaic, including the boat navigating at the east end. In the text, the receding of the Nile flood is a figure of the arrival of Christ, the light of the world, in Egypt. When the Lord came the land of Egypt put off its flood of error, and put on instead the light of the Sun of Justice. It fixed its eyes on Christ's light and adored him, having previously been blinded by the waters of ignorance. 7 ' This allegory suggests a possible symbolic reading for the lighthouse prominently placed at the center of the eastern row of the mosaic (fig. 63); it could have been a symbol of the light provided by Christ, as well as a literal portrayal of the famous lighthouse of Alexandria with its identifying statue. 72 Both of the men in the boat fix their eyes on the light, the one in the stern turning his head toward the beacon. One more motif corresponding to an allegorizing viewpoint, and, moreover, unusual in Early Christian art, is the eagle rending the deer, which is prominently placed immediately beneath the personification of Ananeosis (fig. 58). In his consideration of the birds that were created from the waters, Anastasios quoted from the Gospel: "For wherever the corpse (ptoma) is, there will the eagles congregate," and he explained, "where [Christ's] holy body died, there he has congregated us, so that we can participate in Him. For when he was raised up high on the cross he congregated the gentiles, and the birds of the gentiles born from the water, so that they could imitate his passion and his cross. " 73 Thus the commentary makes the image of the eagle with a corpse into a symbol of the gathering of the gentiles at the body of Christ. Other writers related the verses in Matthew and Luke more specifically to the Communion, seeing the eagles as the faithful gathered to the flesh and blood of Christ. In St. Ambrose's commentary on Luke, for example, we read: "The corpse (corpus) is that about which it is said 'my flesh in truth is food and my blood in truth is drink.' " 74 In his De Sacramentis, Ambrose connected the eagle and the corpse both with the Mass and with the theme of renewal, saying to the baptized:

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"Hear again David saying 'Your youth will renew itself like that of the eagle' (Psalm 102, 5). You have begun to be a good eagle, which seeks the sky and scorns what is terrestrial. . . . For 'wherever the corpse is, there will the eagles be.' The corpse represents the altar and the corpse of Christ is on the altar. You are eagles, renewed by the washing away of the fault. " 75 Some writers identified the "corpse" of the Gospel texts with carrion. Thus St. Jerome in his commentary on Matthew wrote: We are instructed in the sacrament of Christ from a natural example that we see everyday. For eagles and vultures are said to sense carcasses even across seas and to congregate at food of this kind. If, therefore, irrational birds can sense where a small carcass lies by means of their natural senses when they are separated by such wide spaces of land and of sea, how much more should we and all the multitude of believers hurry to Him whose radiance goes forth from the east and reaches to the west. 76 Another passage that links the image of the eagle and its carcass with the light of Christ occurs in the commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians by St. John Chrysostom: That fearful and awful sacrifice demands that we approach with the greatest concord and warm love, and thence becoming eagles, should thus soar to heaven itself. For 'wherever the corpse is, there will the eagles congregate,' it says, naming the body the corpse because of its death. For unless He fell, we would not be resurrected. It names eagles, showing that he who approaches this body should be lofty, and have nothing in common with the ground, nor should he drag himself and creep below, but he should continuously fly above, and look to the Sun of Justice and make the eyes of his understanding quick-sighted. For this is the table of eagles, not of jackdaws. 77 Here John Chrysostom associates the image of the eagle and the carcass with the Communion, with resurrection, and also with the Sun of Justice. These passages suggest that the eagle with the bleeding deer at Qasr-el-Lebia may refer to the congregation of the gentiles at the body of Christ, and more specifically at the Communion. 78 If this interpretation is correct, the eagle with its corpse can be related to the personification of Ananeosis, who appears directly above, for we have seen that St. Ambrose speaks of renewal in connection with Matthew's image of the eagles at the corpse. In the Syrian rite "renewal" was prayed for during the liturgy of the Mass. 79 Thus Ananeosis can be seen to acquire several shades of meaning: the renewal of the town, the renewal ofhumanity through the congregation of the gentiles into one Church, and the renewal provided by the eucharistic sacrifice. To sum up, not only does the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia portray land and water, but also its idiosyncratic selection of motifs corresponds in some detail to allegories of the congregation of the gentiles in several commentaries on the creation. If we consider the text attributed to Anastasios, we find that the apparently disparate subjects of the four Rivers of Paradise, the pagan oracle Castalia, the fruits of Renewal, the river Nile, the light over Egypt, and even the eagle and the carcass were all fitted together into a complex but coherent pattern of allegories. It is reasonable to hypothesize that a similar pattern of meanings may have connected the same subjects on the floor at Qasr-el-Lebia. Although the commentaries attributed to Anastasios may be later than the mosaic, we have

THE GATHERING OF THE WATERS

53

seen that the ideas they embodied were traditional and had been expressed in various ways by earlier writers. The rarity of such motifs as the Castalian spring and the eagle with its carcass within the mosaic tradition in Christian churches makes the connection between allegorical exegesis and the floor all the more plausible. It is not necessary to suppose that the mosaic was directly influenced by one or another text, or that it was intended to be a straight illustration of some particular literary work. But it is likely that the complex of ideas expressed by the mosaic was similar to that expressed by allegorizing writers; the sermons and the commentaries help us to understand the mentality that lay behind both the written documents and the work of art. It should also be borne in mind that the symbolism is fluid in the writings of the allegorists; these authors often assign more than one meaning to each individual part of Creation. In the case of the mosaic also, we should not be too rigid in our interpretations. The designer may well have had more than one symbolic meaning in mind for some of the motifs. Many of the motifs on the floor, then, can be read on two levels: as signs standing for the earth and the waters, and as symbols representing allegories on the Creation. Only if we accept the motifs in this double sense can we answer the puzzles posed by the apparently strange assortment of subjects presented by this mosaic. It is not necessary, of course, to read every motif on the floor as a symbol; some of the creatures portrayed may function simply as signs for the terrestrial world. However, two prominent motifs that have not yet been discussed carry a special potential for symbolism in the context of this floor. The first is the building under the inscription, in the approximate center of the mosaic (fig. 61). As we have seen, this building has been variously interpreted as a dosed pagan temple, as a synagogue, and as a church. 80 If our mosaic is an allegory of the gathering of the congregations, any one of these meanings would fit the context, as the commentaries attributed to St. Augustine and to Anastasios listed the pagan cults and the Jewish synagogues among the congregations that were collected into one Church. 81 So the building in the mosaic could represent either the pagan or the Jewish congregations, or the Christian Church into which they were gathered. The last subject in the Qasr-el-Lebia mosaic that calls for comment is the shepherd with a lutelike instrument, portrayed underneath the peacock on the central axis (fig. 62). At one level, this motif can be read simply as a sign representing the rural activities of the earth, like the horse and rider that appear two rows above. But at another level the musician could be a symbol, especially in the contexts of the Creation and of the gathering of the waters. Grabar has related this figure to portrayals of Orpheus, particularly the famous mosaic of Orpheus with his lyre that was found in Jerusalem. 82 In the Jerusalem mosaic, as at Qasr-el-Lebia, the musician has attracted a goat-footed Pan among the other beasts of the earth. Several other late antique depictions of Orpheus also show Pan among the creatures drawn by the lyre. 83 A well-known passage in the orations In Praise of Constantine by Eusebius compares Orpheus, who charmed the most savage beasts, to Christ, who by his Word soothed the most difficult and savage of men, "Greeks and barbarians. " 84 It was also a convention of Byzantine panegyric to compare the emperor to Orpheus, because he pacified his enemies as if they were wild beasts. 85 It has been objected that the musician depicted on the Qasr-el-Lebia floor does not entirely correspond with the traditional iconography of Orpheus; while his frontal pose is similar to the conventional portrayals of Orpheus, his instrument is not a lyre but a kind of lute. Moreover, the listening dog and the pot hanging from the tree behind the figure in the mosaic are not attributes of Orpheus, but are more appropriate for a bucolic scene. 86 However, it is not necessary to identify the musician as Orpheus in order to read the motif as a metaphor. Several other texts concerning music are relevant to the themes of our mosaic and do not mention

54

EARTH AND OCEAN

Orpheus. In the Hexameron of St. Ambrose, for example, the music of God's word is specifically related to the gathering of the waters of Creation. St. Ambrose says that the varied peoples whom the waters symbolize "find their delight . . . in the earth given to them for their labor, in the ambient air, in the seas here enclosed in their bounds, in the people who are the musical instrument of the operations of God, in which the melodious sound of God's word may echo, and within which the spirit of God may work. " 87 This passage suggests that the musician on the floor at Qasr-el-Lebia could have been intended as a reference to the word of God, which charmed even the wildest of peoples, a concept that would fit the overall theme of the gathering of the gentiles into one Church. There is another meaning that can be attached to music in the context of the Creation. In his speeches In Praise of Constantine Eusebius described the universe, including the earth with its numberless plants and creatures, and the sea with its innumerable varieties of fish; he compared this whole Creation to an instrument in harmony that is played upon by the Logos. 88 We have seen that when Gregory of Nazianzus described the world in his Second Theological Oration, he borrowed from Plato the idea that the harmony of Creation indicates to us the nature of God, who made the instrument that could produce such music: "If one sees a cithara fashioned with the greatest beauty ... or again if one hears the sounds that it gives out, one will think of none other than the craftsman who made it and the cithara player who plays it, one will ascend in thought toward him, even if one does not happen to know him by sight; in the same way to us is manifested He who made things. " 89 Thus the music produced by the shepherd in the mosaic could have two strains of symbolism: the harmony of the congregations within the Church, and the harmony of the whole of Creation. It is now time to return to the personifications of Ktisis, Kosmesis, and Ananeosis with which we began our discussion, and to ask how the iconography of the whole mosaic fits into its political context. The refoundation of the town of Theodorias, the building of its fort, and the adornment of its churches was part of Justinian's campaign to pacify the lands to the west of Egypt. According to the historian Procopius, Justinian wished to bring new life to these formerly barren territories, to convert those inhabitants who were Jews and pagans, and to reunite them into an empire ruled by one faith. 90 The content of the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia fits admirably with this political program, for the message of the floor is not only the renewal of the town under the emperor's auspices but also the allegory of the gathering of the gentiles, their conversion, and their unification into one Church. The contemporary hymn by Romanos, On Earthquakes and Fires, which celebrates the rebuilding of Constantinople and of its principal church by Justinian, is also especially relevant for our understanding of the inscriptions at Qasr-el-Lebia. In the poem Christ's acts of Creation and renewal are presented as parallels to the emperor's "resurrection" of the city and of its Great Church; both are celebrated together. 91 In the same way, the mosaic and its inscriptions can celebrate at one and the same time the "Creation," "Adornment," and "Renewal" of the whole world by Christ, and of the city and church by Justinian, Theodora, and their local agents. In conclusion, a few words should be said about the structure of the imagery in the mosaic at Qasr-el-Lebia. The mosaic, like most other Cyrenaican mosaics of the Justinianic period, is laid out as a grid of squares. 92 The arrangement of the motifs within this grid appears at first sight incoherent and illogical. More than one modern scholar has succumbed to an urge to rearrange the subjects, arguing that the artists who set the floor made mistakes in the layout of the design. 93 For example, it might seem more logical if the personifications of Ktisis and Kosmesis were to crown and cense the human figure Ananeosis instead of the inanimate city of Theodorias (figs. 52-56). As Grabar pointed out: "On ne couronne pas une ville." 94 However, the

THE GATHERING OF THE WATERS

55

apparent mismatching of the motifs may have been caused not by carelessness or ineptitude, but rather by the designer's desire to create ambiguous images. I have argued that Ananeosis is intended to relate not only to the political foundation of the city but also to the spiritual renewal in Christ of humanity, symbolized by the gathered waters, and to the Eucharist. If the designer had changed the positions of Ananeosis and of Theodorias so that Ananeosis was flanked by Ktisis and Kosmesis at the western edge of the mosaic, the spectator might well take the concept of "Renewal" to refer only to "Foundation" (or "Creation") and to "Adornment." The actual arrangement of the mosaic, however, encourages the viewer to read Ananeosis in more than one way. The personification of "Renewal" can be related to the town that appears immediately above it; but it can also be associated with the Rivers of Paradise, which appear beside it, and thus Renewal can refer to the concept of the gathered waters. Moreover, it is possible to read the personification of Ananeosis in conjunction with the eagle and the deer immediately below it, which, as we have seen, can symbolize the gentiles gathered at communion. Thus the actual arrangement of the floor enables Ananeosis to be read at least three ways. The structure of the imagery can be compared to a word play, such as the common formula that appears on a sixth- to seventh-century silver paten from the village of Phela in Syria, which is now in the Abegg-Stiftung in Bern (fig. 67). The paten is decorated with an incised cross containing the words "ZQH," or "Life," and "Ecp JtQOOX.Of.tL~OV'tE\;, TOTE Of OqJU\; aU'tmJ\; OAW\; xa1'tLEQOVV'tE\; au'tcp. 35. See especially the discussion by J. Engemann, "Zu den Apsis-Tituli des Paulin us von Nola," ]ahrbuch for Antike und Christentum, XVII, I974, 21-46, esp. 33f., 38f. 36. See, for example, the remarks ofGombrich, 1420, speaking of medieval and Renaissance art. 37. De inventione, 4-I3; ed. H. Rabe, Hermogenis opera, Stuttgart, 1969, 208ff. See also G. L. Kustas, Studies in Byzantine Rhetoric, Thessaloniki, I973, 189. Hermogenes also stressed that double meanings are created through the use of metaphor: De inventione, 4· IO; ed. Rabe, I9938. Institutio aratoria, 9.3.68-70. See also the definition given in the Ad C. Herennium, 4.21; ed. and trans. H. Caplan, London, I968, 280, from whose edition I have paraphrased my translation of the example. 39. Strophe 9, ed. Grosdidier de Matons, II, 58-60. 40. Book IV, lines 196-205; translation by Cameron, II4. 41. Compare John 10:3, "he calls his own sheep by name," and 10:4, "the sheep follow him, for they know his voice." See Cameron, 2oof. 42. The Vatican Collections: The Papacy and Art (exhibition catalogue, The Metropolitan Museum of Art), New York, I983, 98-99. 43. C. R. Morey, Early Christian Art, Princeton, I953. 276.

NOTES TO PAGES 12-18 44· Homilia XXX (Fourth Theological Oration), zr; ed. Gallay and Jourjon, 272. The Akathistos hymn addresses Mary as "mother of Lamb and Shepherd": Migne, PG, XCII, col. 1340. Paulinus of Nola, in his verses composed for the apse of the basilica at Fundi, refers to the central lamb as "an innocent sacrifice" and as a "shepherd": Epistula XXXII, 17; ed. Goldschmidt, 46. 45. See the discussion of the lambs in the apse of S. Apollinare in Classe at Ravenna by Deichmann, 1976, 259· 46. C. Cupane, "11 KoOf.lLxO~ I1Cva1; di Giovanni di Gaza: Una proposta di ricostruzione," ]ahrbuch der Osterreichischen Byzantinistik, XXVIII, 1979, 195-207. 47· For discussions of the motif at Mount Sinai, see K. Weitzmann, "The Mosaic in St. Catherine's Monastery on Mount Sinai," Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, ex, no. 6, December 1966, 393405, esp. 40rf. (reprinted in idem, Studies in the Arts at Sinai, Princeton, 1982, 14f.), and F. de' Maffei, "L'unigenito consustanziale al Padre nel programma trinitario dei perduti mosaici del bema della Dormizione di Nicea e il Cristo trasfigurato del Sinai-!," Storia dell' Arte, XLV, 1982, 91-rr6, esp. ro3ff. 48. Part I, lines 41-44; ed. Friedlander, 137-38. 49. The monogram was carved on the chancel screen of St. Sophia: Descriptio Ecclesiae Sanctae Sophiae, lines 713-14; ed. Friedlander, 247; Mango, 87-88, note 157. 50. G. Matthiae, SS. Cosma e Damiano e S. Teodoro, Rome, 1948; R. Budriesi, "I mosaici della chiesa dei Santi Cosma e Damiano aRoma," Felix Ravenna, 3rd series, XLII, 1966, 5-35.

sr.

Ibid., r:i; W. Oakeshott, The Mosaics of Rome, Greenwich, Connecticut, 1967, 90-92. 52. Morey (as in note 43), 290. 53. A general discussion of the typology is found in W. N. Schumacher, "Eineromische Apsiskomposition," Romische Quartalschrift, uv, 1959, 137-202, esp. 170.

54· See Gombrich, 4· 55. Bellinger, 198-259, pls. 49-59. 56. ]. M. C. Toynbee, "Roma and Constantinopolis in Late-Antique Art from 365 to Justin II," in Studies Presented to David Moore Robinson, II, ed. G. E. Mylonas and D. Raymond, St. Louis, Missouri, 1953, 261-77, esp. 269, 277. 57· John of Ephesus, Historia ecclesiastica, 3. 14; trans. R. · Payne Smith, The Third Part of the Ecclesiastical History ofjohn Bishop ofEphesus, Oxford, r86o, 192, and E. W. Brooks, Corpus scriptorum christianorum orientalium, Scriptores Syri, series 3, III, Lou vain, 1946, 103.

58. Bellinger, z66, pl. 6o. 59. Gesta episcoporum neapolitanorum, 1.4; ed. G. Waitz, Scriptores rerum langobardicarum et italicarum saec. VI-IX (Monumenta Germaniae historica), Hannover, 1878, 405; Mallardo (as in note 27), roo.

87

6o. Ibid., ror. But see also G. Bovini, "Mosaici paleocristiani scomparsi di Napoli," XIV Corso di Cultura sull' Arte Ravennate e Bizantina, 1967, 27. 6r. G. Bovini, "I mosaici diS. Vittore «in ciel d'oro)) di Milano," XVI Corso di Cultura sull' Arte Ravennate e Bizantina, 1969, 71-80, esp. 72. A good illustration can be found in A. Grabar, The Golden Age of]ustinian, New York, 1967, fig. 128. The combination in the Neapolitan apse of Christian iconography with male personifications of the seasons holding fruit can be compared with the fourth-century mosaics in the domed hall at Centcelles in Spain; see T. Hauschild and H. Schlunk, "V orbericht uber die Arbeiten in Centcelles," Madrider Mitteilungen, II, 1961, 119-82, pls. r8-39. 62. Ph. Bruneau, "Un clevis de pose de mosai:ques: Le papyrus Cairo Zen. 59665," Memoires N. Kontaleon, 134-43; C. Balmelle and ]. P. Darmon, "L'artisan mosai:ste dans l'antiquite tardive ... reflections a partir des signatures," in Artistes, artisans et production artistique au moyen age, Rapports provisoires, Rennes, 1983, rr. 63. J. Robert and L. Robert, "Bulletin epigraphique," Revue des Etudes Grecques, LXXXI, 1968, 471; P. Lazaridis, Archaiologikon Deltion, xx, part B, 1965, 253-55, pls. 310-14; J.-P. Sodini, "Mosai:ques paleochretiennes de Grece," Bulletin de Correspondance Hellenique, XCIV, I970, 7I3; Balmelle and Darmon (as in note 62), IO. 64. L. Foucher, "Note sur des signatures mosai:stes," Karthago, IX, 1958, 131-36, pls. r-2.

de

65. Ph. Bruneau, "A propos d'une mosai:que inscrite de Trikkala," Revue des Etudes Grecques, LXXXIII, 1970, pp. xvi-xvii.

66. Goldschmidt, passim. 67. ]. Ch. Balty, "L'Eveque Paul et le programme architectural et decoratif de la cathedrale d' Apamee," in Melanges d'histoire ancienne et d'archeologie o.fferts a Paul Col/art (Cahiers d'Archeologie Romande, v), Lausanne, 1976, 31-4~ figs. 3, 8-ro. 68. Ti]v nmxO..'Y)v '\ji'Y)> of Tzurulon (A.D. 8I3)," Byzantion, xxxv, I965, 564-74, esp. 567. 49. Oralio I, Migne, PG, LXXXV, col. 36.

so. Quaestiones ros.

in Genesim, r.zo; Migne, PG, LXXX,

col.

51. See, for example, the prayer by Patriarch Kallistos in the Euchologion, Venice, I885, 289f. See also Saller, I94I, 255f. 52. De opificio mundi, I7-20; translation by Colson and Whitaker, I, I4-I6. 53. Quoted in Theodoret of Cyrus, Quaestiones in Genesim, r.zo; Migne, PG, LXXX, col. I09. 54. Topographia christiana, 3.34; ed. Wolska-Conus, I, 471. See also the discussion of the sixth day in the Hexameron of Jacob of San1g; Jansma, 32f. 55. Ed. Maas and Trypanis, 462-71. 56. E. Catafygiotou-Topping, "On Earthquakes and Fires: Romanos' Encomium to Justinian," Byzantinische Zeitschrifl, LXXI, I978, 22-35·

94

NOTES TO PAGES 49-54

57. '0 x:tL and N. P. Sevcenko, Brookline, Mass., I984, 76. 31. Saller and Bagatti, 1949, 143. 32. Another mosaic that juxtaposes scenes ofhunting with domesticated animals, but without the personification of Earth, has been discovered in the baptistery complex restored in 530/r at Siyagha (Mount Nebo); seeM. Piccirillo, "New Discoveries on Mount Nebo," Annual of the Department of Antiquities, Amman, XXI, I976; 55-59, pls. 14-16; and idem, "Campagna archeologica nella basilica di Mose Profeta sui Monte NeboSiyagha," Studii Biblici Franciscani Liber Annuus, xxvi, I976, 28I-3I8.

CHAPTER VII

23. Ibid.; Saller and Bagatti, I949, 145· 24. For the winepress, see Grabar, 1962, 122. The baskets held out by the offerers could also have had eucharistic connotations; see Saller and Bagatti, I949, I I I.

25. Saller and Bagatti, I949, 67, I07, pls. 22, 2 and 23, I. The sacrifice of Isaac was depicted in the sanctuaries of S. Vitale at Ravenna (sixth-century wall mosaic) and of the basilica at Mount Sinai (seventhcentury painting in encaustic); see Deichmann, I958, pl. 327, and Forsyth and Weitzmann, pl. IJO. On the typology, see Deichmann, 1976, 155-59. The motif of the sheep in front of a tree also occurs in a floor of the Chapel of Suaitha at Madeba. The mosaic, which possibly decorated the presbytery of the chapel, is now in the Archaeological Museum at Madeba; see Saller and Bagatti, 1949, 236f., and Piccirillo (as in note II), 20. 26. G. Galavaris, Bread and the Liturgy: The Symbolism of Early Christian and Byzantine Bread Stamps, Madison, I970, 46f. 27. There is an example in the Menil Foundation Collection, Houston, which will be no. F 105 in the forthcoming catalogue by Gary Vikan, to whom I owe the information about this stamp, as well as the opportunity to preview his catalogue entry. 28. Galavaris (as in note 26), 46. 29. This will be argued in G. Vikan's forthcoming catalogue of the Menil Foundation Collection. 30. Evidence for the donation of produce toward the completion of a church comes from a Syriac inscription of 507 referring to a church at Khirbat Hasan: "There was spent on it drachmas eighty and five; (of) beans, wheat, and lentils measures (pecks) four hundred and thirty besides the first outlay"; see E. L. Sukenik, The Ancient Synagogue of Beth Alpha, Jerusalem, 1932, 46. For the provision of bread to craftsmen working on a

r. Anthologia Palatina, 9. 778; ed. and trans. A. S. F. Gow and D. L. Page, The Greek Anthology: The Garland of Philip, I, Cambridge, 1968, 300, and II, 333f. 2. De laudibus Constantini, 1.3-5 and 6.6-8; ed. Heikel, 197-98, 207-9. 3. De laudibus Constantini, r.6; ed. Heikel, 198-99. Translation by Drake, 85. 4· Migne, PG, XCII, cols. 1425-I578. 5· Hexaemeron, lines 1838-61; Migne, PG, XCII, cols. 1574-76. 6. Chronographia, Migne, PG, CVIII, col. 673. 7- H. P. Laubscher, Der Reliefschmuck des Galeriusbogens in Thessaloniki (Deutsches Archaologisches Institut, Archaologische Forschungen, I), Berlin, 1975, 71-73, pl. 598. Age of Spirituality, Late Antique and Early Christian Art, Third to Seventh Century, ed. K. Weitzmann (exhibition catalogue, The Metropolitan Museum of Art), New York, I979, 74-76. See also MacCormack, 2I9, and Schneider, 35f. with I65 (citations of texts associating the bounty of nature with the ruler's largess).

9. The text was published by L. Sternbach, "Beitrage zur Kunstgeschichte," ]ahreshefte des Osterreichischen Archiiologischen Institutes in Wien, v, 1902, Beiblatt, cols. 65-94, esp. cols. 74-79. On the use of the Great Palace in the twelfth century, seeP. Magdalino, "Manuel Komnenos and the Great Palace," Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, IV, 1978, IOI-14. IO. J. F. Flanagan, "The Figured Silks," in The Relics of Saint Cuthbert, ed. C. F. Battiscombe, Oxford, I956, 484-525, esp. 505ff.' fig. I. I I.

Levi,

I,

36 5, and

II,

pl. 90 c-d.

I2. See chapter III, note 17.

NOTES TO PAGES 75-79 I 3. Another parallel to the mosalC described by Constantine Manasses is the "Striding Lion" mosaic from Antioch, which dates to the turn of the fifth and the sixth centuries. Here various objects, such as piles of fruit, birds (including a cock), and fish are arranged in a lozenge grid around a central focus, in this case a lion; see Levi, I, pi-23, and II, pl. 74· For the combination of live creatures with the detritus from a meal, such as the bird and fish bones described by Constantine Manasses, we may compare the nave pavement of the Byzantine church at Sidi Abich in Tunisia, where portrayals of various animals, including crustacea, doves, peacocks, and lambs, were apparently bordered by a frieze showing sweepings from a meal. See Gauckler, 84-86; De Lasteyrie, III, fig. 91. I4. See above, note

I.

I5. Age of Spirituality (as in note 8), 33I-35· I6. Compare their headdresses with those worn by the figures portrayed on the silver plate in Istanbul that depicts a personification of India: D. Talbot Rice, The Art of Byzantium, London, I959, 291, 297, pis. 19, 43; S. Hiller, "Divino sensu agnoscere: Zur Deutung des Mosaikbodens im Peristyl des Grossen Palastes zu Konstantinopel," Kairos, new series, XI, 1969, 275-305, esp. 28I. I7. On Earth, see MacCormack, 219. On the solar imagery linking Christ and the emperor, see A. Cameron, "Corippus' Poem on Justin II: A Terminus of Antique Art?" Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, 3rd series, v, Pisa, I975, I29-65, esp. I4 7f. Reprinted in idem, Continuity and Change in Sixth-Century Byzantium, London, I98I, no. vr. r8. Deichmann, I969, 234-56; idem, I976, I4I-95; idem, 1958, pis. 285-375. 19. A detailed description of the vault mosaics can be found in ]. Kurth, Die Wandmosaiken von Ravenna, Munich, 1905, 94-98. 20. See chapter

III,

note 54·

21. F. Cumont, Recherches sur le symbolisme fimeraire des Romains, Paris, I942, 503. Another parallel from Roman sculpture is provided by a fragment of an early Antonine architectural frieze in Rome that displays a portrait bust in a medallion framed by linked dolphins and flanked by tritons; seeP. Gusman, L'art decoratif de Rome de Ia .fin de Ia republique au IVe siecle, III, Paris, I9I4, pl. I43· 22. K. Lehmann, "The Dome of Heaven," The Art Bulletin, XXVII, I945, I-27, esp. 15; Nordstrom, 93f.; Deichmann, 1976, r63f.; T. F. Mathews, "Cracks in Lehmann's «Dome of Heaven))," Source, I, no. 3, I982, I2-I6, esp. I6.

99

Mosaiken von S. Vitale in Ravenna?" Frnhmittelalterliche Studien, XVI, I982, I9-24, esp. 23. 25. Part I, lines 35-37; ed. Friedlander, I37· See also the texts by Maximus of Turin and Jerome cited in chapter II, notes 86-87. 26. Deichmann, I976, I64. 27. A. Grabar, L'empereur dans /'art byzantin, Paris, I936, 204. 28. Deichmann, 1976, I79· 29. Ibid., 1958, pl. 121. 30. De aedificiis, r. IO. I6- 19; ed. Dewing and Downey, VII, 84-86. For a reconstruction of the Chalke and its mosaics, see C. Mango, The Brazen House: A Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace ofConstantinople (Arkaeologisk-kunsthistoriske Meddelelser, Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes Selskab, IV, no. 4), I959, esp. 30-34. 3 r. See Deichmann, Nordstrom, 92f.

r 976,

I 6 5, and, especially,

32. E. E. Rice, The Grand Procession of Ptolemy Philadelphus, Oxford, I983, 204-8. I am indebted to Professor Alfred Frazer for this reference. 33. The figure of Earth holding a cornucopia had also appeared on coins of Antoninus Pius; see MacCormack, 2I9. 34. See chapter v, notes 8I-84. 35. For example, crossed cornucopias decorate certain third-century season sarcophagi; see Hanfmann, II, I I, fig. 29 (sarcophagus of Prosenes, Rome), and I76, no. 467, fig. 42 (Villa Doria-Panfili). 36. See chapters IV, notes 73-78, and v, notes 76-80. 37. G. M. A. Richter, The Engraved Gems of the Greeks, Etruscans and Romans, II, London, 197I, I08, fig. 5I6; Nordstrom, 92. 38. Richter (as in note 37), II, I03, fig. 498 (Cabinet des Medailles, Paris); G. Bruns, Staatskameen des 4· ]ahrhunderts nach Christi Geburt (Winckelmannsprogramm der archaologischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin, Civ), I948, 27, fig. 24 (Nancy). 39. M. Wegner, Das Romische Herrscherbild, II, 4, Die Herrscherbildnisse in antoninischer Zeit, Berlin, 1939, 266, pl. 53. 40. Descriptio ecclesiae Sanctae Sophiae, lines I-I6; ed. Friedlander, 227.

notes 68-71.

41. Descriptio ecclesiae Sanctae Sophiae, lines 54-55; ed. Friedlander, 228. On this introduction, see now M. Whitby, "The Occasion of Paul the Silentiary's Ekphrasis of St. Sophia," Classical Quarterly, new series, xxxv, 1985, 215-28.

24. On the identification of the river scenes with the Rivers of Paradise, seeP. Toesca, San Vitale ofRavenna: The Mosaics, London, 1954, 22, and B. Brenk, "Welchen Text illustrieren die Evangelisten in den

42. De aedificiis, I.I.2I; translation by Dewing and Downey, VII, IO. Compare also the last verse of the anonymous hymn on the second dedication of St. Sophia (A.D. 562): "You, Savior, born from a Virgin,

23. See chapter

II,

roo

NOTES TO PAGES 79-84

carefully guard this house until the end of the world .... Repulse heresies, and shatter the strength of the barbarians." Ed. C. A. Trypanis, Fourteen Early Byzantine Cantica (Wiener byzantinische Studien, v), Vienna, 1968, 147.

cus-Christus-Sol: Nuove ipotesi sui mausolea," Arheoloski Vestnik, xxrrr, 1972, 83-157, esp. 89.

43. See A. Cameron, "The Artistic Patronage of Justin II," Byzantion, L, 1980, 62-84, esp. 64.

so. On the relationship between the emperor's portrait and the Christ in the apse, see also 0. G. von Simson, Sacred Fortress: Byzantine Art and Statecraft in Ravenna, Chicago, 1948, 36.

44· In laudem Iustini Augusti Minoris, book II, line 150; ed. Cameron, 52. For discussions of this passage, see ibid., 161f., and H. P. L'Orange, Studies on the

48. Strophe 13; ed. Maas and Trypanis, 246. 49. Strophe 18; ed. Maas and Trypanis, 505.

Iconography of Cosmic Kingship in the Ancient World, Oslo, 1953, 88, 109. Corippus also links the emperor

with Christ through the image of the Good Shepherd; book IV, lines I96-205 (ed. Cameron, 79). And see George of Pisidia's use of the solar image to compare Hera eli us to the sun in heaven; see above, note 5. 45· See chapter I, note 37. 46. "Christ gave earthly lords power over all: He is omnipotent, and the earthly king is the image of the omnipotent." In laud em Iustini Augusti Minoris, book II, lines 427-28; translation by Cameron, 102, with discussion on I78f. 47. On rulers imitating Christ through an association with the twelve apostles, see M. Fagiolo, "Theodori-

CONCLUSION r. On the restraining of "qualities that might detain the eye," seeN. Bryson, Word and Image: French Painting of the Ancien Regime, Cambridge, 1981, esp. 3.

2. See chapter

I,

note 8. See also Grabar, 1979, 53·

3· De imaginibus oratio I, Migne, PG,

XCIV,

col. 1252.

4. Antirrheticus III, Migne, PG, c, col. 464f.; the tex is discussed by Grabar, 1984, 197-99.

s.

Antirrheticus III, Migne, PG, c, col. 429.

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BLANK PAGE

Index

Achilles, shield of, 88 n. 19 acrostic, 55 Adam, 69, 72 Agnes, 63 Aion, 64 Akathistos, 8-9, 87 n. 44 Alcinous, orchard of, 7 Alexandria, lighthouse, 46, 5 I altar, 38, 45, 52, 62, 71, 83 Ambrose, 3 I, 34, 40, 41-42, 50-52, 54, 59, 62-63, 91 n. ro, 92 n. 65 Ananeosis, 27, 45-46, 50-52, 54-55, 64, 82, 94 n. 66 Anastasios, author of Hexaemeron, 29, 41-44, 51-53, 59, 62 Anastasios, diptychs of, 97 n. 84 Anastasios Sinaites, 41 Ancona, Christian tomb, 9-ro; fig. 2

animals: hierarchy of, 57-59; man's dominion over, 67-72; tame before the fall, 69; wild and domestic, 32, 59, 6S-72, 9S n. 32 ant, 19, 32, 39 antanaklasis, I I Antioch, mosaics from, 20, 27, 45, 50, 99n. 13; figs. S-9, 22, 66

Apamea, cathedral, 14 Aphrodite, 13, 21 Apocalypse, 7S; four Beasts of, 90n. 72 Apollo, 20 apostles, 12-13, 62, 77; "senate" of Christ, So apotheosis, of emperors, 66, 79; of empresses, 39 apple, 75; tree, 7, 22, 36 Arians, So Armenians, 6o-6r arrows, 6S, 70, 72 Asia, personification of, 20 Athanasius of Alexandria, S-9 Athens, Asklepieion, 94 n. 64 Augustine, Saint, 27, 31, 3S-39, 41, 42, 53, 65 Avitus, 23, 25-26, 28, 37

baptism, 19-20, 24, 27-2S, 33, 3840, 42-43, 47, 51, 57-59, 92n. 65, 94n. 69 Barberini Diptych, 75-76; fig. S6 Basil the Great, 25, 27, 31-35, 3839, 42, 59, 60, 6S

Basil of Seleucia, 48 Bawit, fresco of eagle, 96 n. 47 bear, 28, 35, 45, 70, 72 bee, 19, 68 Belisarius, 78 Bern, Abegg-Stiftung, Phela paten, 55; fig. 67 Bethlehem, 12, 42, 44 bird cage, 6r, 65-66 bird rinceau. See vine boar, 2S, 33, 70 boat, S, 19, 29, 33-34, 46-47, 49, 51, S2, 91n. 25 brea~ 43, 45, 51, 6~ 69, 70, 98n. 30; of Communion, 71 Budapest, University Library, MS. 3 5 (drawing of imperial rider), 96n. 71 bull, 36, 45, 68, 70, 72 Butrinto, baptistery, 7, 40, 82, 86 n. 15; fig. I

caged bird, 6r, 65-66 Calendar of 354, 64; fig. 74 camel, 28, 32, 3 5, 59 cameos, imperial, 79; fig. 96

ro6

Index

Candace, 59 cantharos, 7, 9-IO, 37-3S, 40, 6o. See also vase carcass. See carrion carrion, 52, 65 Carthage, mosaic of Dominus Iulius, 9I n. 36 Castalian spring, 45-47, 5I53 Centcelles, domed hall, S7 n. 6r Choricius, 7, 2I, 6o Christogram, 47, 77, 79 churches: consecration of, 49; donations to, 7I-72, 9S n. 30; symbolism of, 26, S9 n. 57 Claudius, 79 Commodus, 79 Communion. See Eucharist confessor, I3 consecration of churches, 49 Constans I, bronze coin, 64; fig. 73 Constantine I, 73 Constantine V, 6 Constantine Manasses, 74-75, 99n. I3 Constantinople, I3, 33, 49, 54, 74; Great Palace, 75, 7S, 79, SS; Patriarchate, 79; St. Mary of Blachernae, 6; St. Sophia, 49, 54, 79, S5 n. 9, S7 n. 49, 99 n. 42 Constantius II, 64 conversion, SI, 54, 64-65 Corippus, II, 64, So cornucopia, 20, 24, 74, 77, 97n. IS, 99n. 33; and eagle, 7S-79 corpse, 43, 5I-52 Cosmas Indicopleustes, 22-23, 26, 29, 37, 49, SS n. 33 crab, 24, 2S, 33, 46, 75 Creator, invocation of, 20 crescent, held by Earth, 70-7I crocodile, 29, 45, 90 n. 94 cross, 5, S-9, II, 24, 2S-29, 34, 43, 51, 63, 65, 7I, 76, S4, S6n. 20; in blue circles, I2-I3, 20, 29, 63, 77-7S; of fish, 40, S2; of "Life" and "Light," 55; signifying cardinal directions, 29, 77-7S crown, S, ss, 6I-63, 65, 76, 7S, So, S2, 96n. 39 Curium, baths of Eustolios, 4S; fig. 64 cypress tree, 22, 36 Cyprian, 27-2S Cyrene, Cathedral, IS, 46

Daniel, I3 Daphne: mosaics from, 75, 94n. 67; oracle at, 45 David, 52 Dead Sea, 43 deer, 3, 39-40, 47, 6S, S2; and eagle, 45, 47, 51-53, 55, 65, 94n. 7S. See also hind, stag Delphic oracle, 43, 45-47, SI-53 designers of mosaics, 14- r 5 Didymus of Alexandria, 4I, 5S-59, 62 dog, 2S, 35, 36, 6S, 70, 72 dolphin, 24, 3 3, 46, 77, 99 n. 2 r donkey, 29, 33, 35, 50, 59, 70 donors, in mosaics, 4S, 50 door, S, rr, 63 dove, 6, 29, 33, 35, sS-59, 6r, 76, 99n. 13 duck, 22, 29, 35-36, 45-46, 61-62, 75, 76, 77, S9 n. 40 Durham Cathedral, silk of St. Cuthbert, 75; fig. Ss eagle, 3, S, 43, 52, 59, 6I, 65-66, 70, 96 n. 4 7, 97 n. S2; and cornucopias, 7S-79; and deer, 45, 47, 51-53, 55, 65, 94n. 7S Earth, as mother, 67-6S, 72; personification of, 20-21, 70, 74-75, 76, 7S, 99n. 33; textiles of, 73, 75 Eden. See Paradise eel, 33 Egypt, 42, 44, 5I-52, 54, S2, S8 n. 3; personification of, 2I ekphrasis, 6-7 Elysian fields, 25 emperor, II, 53, 54, 64-66, 73, 7576, 7S-So, Sr, 97n. S2-S4; as imitator and colleague of God, 79- So, roo n. 44; raised on shield, So. See also Constantine, Heraclius, Justinian empress, 39, 64. See also Theodora Enfidaville, mosaic, I4 Ephrem Syrus, IS, 25-26, 9I n. 43 Epiphanius, bishop of Salamis, I7IS, 2S, 37, 59 Euchaita, martyrion of St. Theodore, Ss n. 9 Eucharist, IO, 36, 3S-39, SI-52, 55, 65, 7I, 9S n. 24 Euphrates, rS, 23-24, 45, 90n. 72 Europe, personification of, 20 Eusebius, 2I, 53-54, 73, 7S

Eustathius, 3 I Evangelists, 27-2S, 62, 77, 90 n. 7I Eve, 59 Ezechias, I3 Felicitas, Saint, 96 n. 57 fig, 75; tree, 36-37 fish, S, I7, 22-24, 2S-29, 3I-35, 45-4~ 54, 57-59, 6o, 62, 6S, 70, 75, S9 n. 40, 99 n. 13; cross of, 40, S2; skeletons of, 75, 99n. 13 flowers, I3, 19, 22-23, 25, 2S-29, 32-33, 49-so, 62, 73, 74, 76-77, 97 n. IS. See also lily, rose Forty Martyrs, 65, So fruit, I3, I9-20, 24-30, 32, 37, 40, 42-45, 47, 49, SI-52, 6o, 70-7I, 73-75, 76-7S, S7n. 6I, 99n. I3; on stamps, 7I Gaius, 73, 75 Ganges, 26 Garden of Eden. See Paradise Gaza: bath, I2-I3, 20-21, 29, 7S; St. Sergius, 7, 6o; St. Stephen, 7, 2I Ge, personiftcation of, 20-2I, 70, 72, 75· See also Earth Gehon. See Nile gems, I9, 37, 62 Gentiles, II, I3, 42-43, SI-52, 5455, 59 geometric pavements, 5-6, S3 George of Pisidia, 26, 34, 39, 45, 63, 73-74, 77-78, 94n. ss Gerasa: church of Elias, Mary, and Soreg, 4S; funerary chapel, IO, fig. 4; SS. Cosmas and Damian, 34-36, 3S, 4S, so, SI-S2, figs. 3S-4I; St. John the Baptist, 46 globe, as imperial symbol, 64, 7S79 Golden Age, 64 Good Shepherd, II- 12 Good Thief, 43, 59, 62 Gospels, 27-2S, 47, 77 grain, I3, 27, 70, 97n. IS. See also wheat grapes, I3, 29, 33, 36, 44, 49, 6o6I, 70, 72, 75. See also vine grass, I I, I7, 27, 32, 42, 59, 6S Gregory of Nazianzus, S-9, IS-2I, 32, 34, 39, 54 Gregory of Nyssa, IS, 6S, 72, S5 n. 9 Gregory of Tours, 62

Index Hadrian, 63-64 harbor, 34, 42, 49 harmony, 54 hart. See stag haven. See harbor heathen. See pagans Helios, 46, 94 n. 72 Henchir Messaouda, baptistery, 47 Henchir Zirara, reliquary from, r r!2; fig. 5 Heraclius, 74 Heraklea Lynkestis, large basilica, 36-4~ 45, 47, Sr-82; figs. 4249 heresies, 42-43, 51, So, roon. 42 Hermogenes, ro, So Hesychius, 59 hind, 36, 38. See also deer Holy Ghost, 6, 19, 43, 68 Homer, 7, 23, 25, 88 n. 19 horse, 28, 35, 46, 50, 53, 59, 68, 70, 76, 89n. 40 Houston, Menil Foundation Collection, bronze stamp, 7I, 98 n. 27; fig. 82 Huarte, North Church, 6o; fig. 68 humanity, 19, 67-72 hunters, 49, 70-72 iconoclasts, 6, 8 3 I' djaz, church, 94 n. 66 incarnation, 83 Indians, 76, 99n. r6 insects, 19, 32, 39, 74 Isaac, sacrifice of, 71, 98 n. 25 Isaiah, 13, 30 Islam, 65 Israel, 9, 42-43, 59. See also Jews Istanbul, Seraglio Library, MS. 8 (Octateuch), 23; fig. 14 Istros, inscription at, 48 Jacob of Sarlig, 92 n. 55, 93 n. 54 Jeremiah, 13 Jerome, 27, 29, 39, 52 Jerusalem, I I - r 2, 59; Dome of the Rock, 65; mosaic of bird rinceau, 6o-6r, 96n. 49, fig. 69; mosaic of Orpheus, 53 Jews, 13, 42-44, 53, 54· See alsoIsrael John Chrysostom, 52, 68-69, 72 John Climacus, 9, 65 John of Damascus, 83 John Diakrinomenos, 6

John of Gaza, 12-13, 20-21, 29, 63, 78 John Philoponos, 3 r Jordan, 42 Juno, 39, 64 Jupiter, 66, 79, 97 n. 82 Justin II, 13, 64, So Justinian, 12, 28, 45, 49-50, 54, 6465, 75, 78-80, 83; gold medallion of, 64, fig. 75; statue before St. Sophia, 64 Kallistos, patriarch, 93 n. 5 r Kamara Dere, epitaph of Sisinnios, 93 n. 48 Karhk, mosaic, 30; fig. 34 karpoi, 20-21, 71 Kato Paphos-Chrysopolitissa, basilica, ro; fig. 3 Khalde, church, 33-34, 36, 47, 75, Sr-82; figs. 35-37 Khan Khalde, Lower Church, 6o Khirbat al-Makhayyat: church of the Priest John, 69-72, 8r, figs. 76-So; St. George, 70-72, 8r, figs. 8r, 83 Khirbat Hasan, church, 98 n. 30 Kithara. See lute knife and fruit, 50 Kosmesis, 45, 48, 50, 54-55, 82 kosmos, 24, 74 Ktisis, 45, 48-50, 54-55, 82, 93 n. 48, 94n. 67 Kypros, wife of Herodes Agrippa, 73. 75 lamb, 6, ro-13, 30, 78, 83, 87n. 44, 99 n. r 3. See also sheep leopard, 30, 33, 36-37, 38, 46, 76 Liber Pontifical is of Naples, 13 Life of Saint Stephen the Younger, 6 lighthouse, 46-47, 51, 94n. 72 lily, 13, 36 lion, 29-30, 33, 35-36, 38, 45, 70, 72, 76, 89 n. 40, 99 n. I 3 liturgy: of consecration, 49; of Mass, 52 lotus plant, 22, 29, 36, 45-46 lute, r8, 46, 53-54 lyre, 53 Madeba: Apostles church, 88 n. 22; Chapel of Suaitha, 98 n. 25 Madrid, Academia de la Historia,

I07

missorium of Theodosius I, 74, 78; fig. 84 Makarios, bishop, 45 map of the world, 22-23, 26, 88 n. 33; fig. 13 Martial, 65 Martin, 62 martyr, 13, 35, 57-58, 62-63, 65, 78 Mary. See Virgin Mary Mass. See liturgy mast, 34 Maxim us the Confessor, 26, 89 n. 57 Maxim us of Turin, 29, 94 n. 78 melon, 24, 50 metaphor, 3, 8, 86 n. 37 Milan, chapel of St. Victor, 13 Minucius Felix, 89 n. 64 monophysitism, 6, 83 months, 25-26; personifications of, 2!, 24-27, 48, 83 Moses, 29 Mount Nebo: baptistery, 98 n. 32; Theotokos chapel, 49; fig. 65 Mount Sinai, basilica of St. Catherine, 12, 28-30, 45, 8r, 90n. 84, 98 n. 25; figs. 6, 23-33 mouse, 75 music, 54, 70 Nancy, imperial cameo, 79 Naples, S. Giovanni in Fonte, 90n. 72 naturalism, 82-83 Nea Anchialos, Basilica C, 7, 40, 82 Nealkes, 29 Neoplatonists, 65 nereid, 21 Nicaea, painted tomb, 40; fig. 51 nightingale, 6o Nika riot, 49, 79 Nikephoros, patriarch, 83-84 Nikopolis, basilica of Dumetios, 21-25, 33-34, 36, 45, 47, 62, 8r, 89n. 40; figs. I0-!2 Nile, 7, r8, 22-24, 26, 29, 36, 4247, 51-52, 82, 87n. 3, 90n. 72 Nil us of Sinai, 5 Nola, basilica at, 14, 28 nuts, 75 oblation, 71 Ocean, personification of, 20, 74. See also Thalassa Odyssey, 7

108

Index

offering. See prosphora Ohrid, baptistery, 90 n. 72 olive, 13, 97n. 18 oracle, 43, 45-47, 51-53 Origen, 17-18, 26, 41, 44, 51, 58, 62, 89n. 64 Orpheus, 53-54 Ostia, baptistery, 90 n. 72 ostrich, 29, 33, 46, 6o, 90 n. 94 Oumm Harteyn, St. John the Baptist, 89n. 40 Ovid, 39 OX, 28-30 pagans, 20, 27, 43, 51-53, 54, 58, 6o, 63, 64, 69, 8o palace, mosaic of Earth in, 74 Palm, 76; tree, 63, 91 n. 36 Pan, 46, 53, 83 panegyric, imperial, 73-74, 79, 81 panther. See leopard Paradise, 17-18, 22-23, 26-28, 30, 35, 37-38, 43, 59, 6o, 77; Animal Paradise, 30; climate of, 7, 25; fountain in, 26, 37, 43, 91 n. 43· See also Peaceable Kingdom, Rivers of Paradise Paris: Cabinet des Medailles, imperial cameo, 79; Louvre, Barberini Diptych, 75-76, fig. 86 patrons, 14-15 Paul, apostle, 18, 43, 59, 62-63 Paul, bishop of Apamea, 14 Paul the Silentiary, 12, 79, 85 n. 9 Paulinus of Nola, 14, 27-28, 87 n. 44 Peaceable Kingdom, 37. See also Paradise peacock, 3, 6-7, 19, 28-29, 35-36, 38-40, 46, 50, 53, 6o, 61, 69, 76-77, 82; on globe, 61, 63-66, 76-77, 92n. 56, 96n. 71, 99n. 13 pear, 49, 75; tree, 7, 22, 45 Persia, 65, 74 Phela paten, 55; fig. 67 Philip, apostle, 43, 59 Philip, poet, 73 Philo, 49, 67, 72 Phison, 23-24, 26, 90 n. 72 phoenix, 20, 61-66, 82, 96n. 57 Physiologus, 63-64 pine tree, 36, 62 Plato, 54 Pliny, 29, 92 n. 56

Plotinus, 9 Poemon, abbot, 38 pomegranate, 49, 75; tree, 7, 22, 36, 45, 46, 50-51 Poree, church of Eufrasius, 77; fig. 91 Procopius of Caesarea, 54, 64, 78, 79 Procopius of Gaza, 20, 29, 40, 59 prophets, 13 prosphora, 69-71 Pseudo-Dionysios, 41 Qasr-el-Lebia, East Church, 15, 4455, 64, 81, 83; figs. 52-63 Quinisext Council, 6, 83 ram, 46, 76 Ras el-Hilal, basilica, 50 Ravenna: Orthodox Baptistery, 96 n. 39; S. Apollinare in Classe, 87 n. 45; S. Apollinare Nuovo, 78, fig. 95; S. Vitale, 62, 76-80, 83, 98 n. 25, figs. 87-90, 92-94; sarcophagi at, 40 reaper, 70-71 Renewal, personification of. See

Ananeosis reptiles, 32-33, 38, 58-59 Resurrection, 27, 63, 65-66 river, 8-9, 19, 21, 32, 42-44, 47, 73, 83 Rivers of Paradise, 12, 18, 23-28, 37, 43, 45-48, 51-52, 55, 77, 90n. 72, 91 n. 43, 94n. 69 Romanos, 8-9, II, 44, 49, 51, 54, 55, 62, 63, 65, So, 91 n. 23 Rome: Biblioteca Vaticana, MS. gr. 699 (Cosmas Indicopleustes), 2223, fig. 13; catacomb of St. Callixtus, tomb cover, 47; Conservatori Museum, bust of Commodus, 79; Museo Pio Cristiano, tomb cover of Firmia Victora, 93 n. 39; S. Agnese fuori le mura, 63; SS. Cosmas and Damian, 12, 63, fig. 7 rose, 13, 36, 77 Sabratha, basilica of Justinian, 6166, 81-83; figs. 70-72 sailor, 34, 46, 51 saints, 43, 57-59, 62-63, 65, 77, 8o, 83 Salona, baptistery, 3 8

Sea, personification of. See Thalassa sea centaur, 21 sea monster, 34, 46-47 seasons, 7, 19, 24-27, 32, 36-37, 40, 73-74, 77-78; personifications of, 13, 20-21, 27, 71, 83, 87n. 6r, 97n. r8 Sedulius, 27 serpent. See snake Severian of Gabala, 28, 33, 37, 40, 59, 88 n. 3 Severus of Antioch, 6 Severus, bishop of Naples, 13 sheep, 12-13, 33, 35, 45, 67-70, 72; against tree, 71, 98 n. 25. See also lamb, ram shepherd, II, 46, 53-54, 67, 87n. 44 ship. See boat Sidi Abich, Byzantine church, 95 n. 30, 99n. 13 Sinai. See Mount Sinai Siyagha. See Mount Nebo Skhira, basilica, 3 8; fig. 50 Smyrna, Evangelical School, Octateuch, 23 snake, 33, 45, 47, 51, 59, 65. See also viper soldier martyr, 78, 8o spider, 19 spirit upon the waters, 19-20, 40, 43-44, 59 stag, 7, 33, 36, 38, 45, 47, 51. See also deer stamps, bronze, 71, 98 n. 27; fig. 82 stork, 33, 6o, 61 Strabo, 22 stream, 8-9, 43, 73. See also river style, 82 sun, 9, 19-20, 26-27, 32, 49, 58, 64, 68, 73, 74, 76, 8o; ofJustice, 42-44, 51-52, 64, 8o swallow, 33, 6o, 76 synagogue, 43, 46, 53 Tegea, basilica of Thyrsos, 24-28, 33, 36, 47-48, 8r; figs. 15-21 temple, 46, 53 Tertullian, 58, 62, 89 n. 64, 91 n. 23, 92n. 64 Tetrarchs, 74 textiles: showing animals, 83; showing Earth, 73, 75 Thalassa, personification of, 20-21, 88n. 22

Index Thebes, mosaic of the months, 14 Theodora, 12, 28, 45, 50, 54, 78, 83 Theodore of Mopsuestia, 41-42, 48-49 Theodoret, bishop of Cyrus, 19-20, 49 Theodorias, 44-45, 48-5I, 54-55 Theodosius 1: coin& showing phoenix, 64; missorium of, 74, 78, fig. 84 Theophanes, 74 Theophilus of Antioch, 40, 41-42, 57-58 Thessaloniki, arch of Galerius, 74, 97n. 84 Tiberi us II, I 3, 97 n. 84 Tigris, 23-24, 45, 90 n. 72 tombs, 47, 6o-6I, 93 n. 39 Trajan, 63 Tree of Life, 25, 78 trident, 77 Trikkala, mosaic of Lycurgus, 14

Trinity, 8-9, 12, 20, 36, 63, 65, 96n. 47 triton, 29, 46, 83, 99n. 21 vase, 7, 24, 33, 35-40, 46, 6o. See also cantharos Venice, S. Marco, Sedia di San Marco, 90n. 71 vices, symbolized by land animals, 57-59 Victor, Saint, 13 victory, personification of, 76 Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, imperial cameo, 79; fig. 96 villas, mosaics in, 71 vine, 7-ro, 29, 32, 35-40, 44, 65, 82, 86 n. 20, 91 n. ro; bird rinceau, 6o-66, 75, 82, 95 n. 30; the True Vine, IO, 32, 35· See also grapes vineyard, 9, 32, 3 5 vintage, 70, 71

109

viper, 33 Virgin Mary, 8, II, I3, 63, 87n. 44 virginity, 63 Vitalis, Saint, 78, 8o vulture, 33, 52 waters: above the firmament, r8, 3I, 90 n. 84; gathering of, 29, 3I, 34, 42, 50-55, 82; ofLife, 78, 92n. 67 weapons, of men and animals, 6768, 70, 72 wheat, 20-2I, 24, 74, 75, 98 n. 30. See also grain winds, personifications of, 20 wine, ro, 24 winepress, 70-72 winter, 7, 13, 24-25, 36, 39, 44· See also seasons zodiac, 64

BLANK PAGE

Illustrations

BLANK PAGE

FIG.

r. Butrinto, baptistery, pavement, inserted motifs

FIG. 2.

Ancona, Christian tomb, pavement, The Vineyard of Isaiah

FIG. 3. Kato Paphos-Chrysopolitissa, basilica, nave pavement (detail), "I am the True Vine"

FIG. 4· Gerasa, funerary chapel, nave pavement (detail), Vine with Commemorative

Inscription

FIG. 5. Christ and His Flock, Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, silver reliquary from Henchir Zirara

FIG. 6. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, apse mosaic

FIG. 7· Rome, SS. Cosmas and Damian, apse mosaic

FIG. 8. Antioch, Bath "E", large hall, pavement (detail), Earth

FIG. 9. Antioch, Bath "E", large hall, pavement, The Earth and the Water

FIG.

ro. Nikopolis, Basilica of Dumetios, north transept, pavement, Earth and Ocean

FIG . I

r. Nikopolis, Basilica of Dumetios, north transept, pavement (detail) , Earth and Ocean

FIG . 12.

Plant

Nikopolis, Basilica of Dumetios, north transept, pavement, Ocean (detail) , Duck in Lotus

FIG. I3. Map of the World According to Cosmas Indicopleustes. Rome, Biblioteca Vaticana, MS. gr. 699, fol. 40v .

FIG. 14. The Creation of Land Animals. Istanbul, Seraglio Library, MS. 8, fol. 32v.

FIG. IS. Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement, Earth and Ocean

FIG. r6. Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement

(detail) , Tigris

FIG. 17. Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement

(detail), July

FIG. r8 . Tegea, Basilica ofThyrsos, nave pavement

(detail), August

Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement (detai1), February

FIG . I9.

Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement (detail), May

FIG . 20 .

Tegea, Basilica of Thyrsos, nave pavement (detail), Marine Creatures in Border

FIG. 21.

FIG. 22 .

Antioch, building north of St. Paul's Gate, pavement, "Renewal" and the Seasons

FIG. 23 . Mount Sinai. St. Catherine, nave, ceiling

beams

FIG. 24. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, first ceiling beam, Land Creatures

FIG. 25 . Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, first ceiling beam (detail), Antelope and Plants

FIG. 26. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, third ceiling beam, Marine Creatures

FIG. 27. Mount Sinai, St. Catherine, nave, third ceiling beam (detail), Marine Creatures

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