All language subtitles for The Treasures of Ancient Rome 3of3 The Empire Strikes Back_Subtitles01.ENG

I'm on the third and final leg
of my mission

to dispel a 2,000-year-old myth.

That the Romans were great
conquerors and engineers,

but when it came to art,
they were second-rate.

Around the turn of the third century
AD, Roman art began to change,

edging imperceptibly away
from the classical tradition

which had sustained it
for hundreds of years.

As a result, later Roman art
often gets it in the neck.

It's derided as being a symptom
of a civilisation in decline.

Now, whether or not
you think that's true,

and I'm not particularly
sure that it is,

why it did change has always been
a bit of a mystery.

One solution to the problem may lie
here on the coast of Libya,

where a magnificent Roman city
is being preserved

just on the other side
of these sand dunes.

And for centuries,
Rome had subjugated the lands

all around the Mediterranean,
including North Africa.

But as far-flung provinces
like this one started gaining power

and flexing their muscles,
the Empire began to strike back.

Ultimately of course, that would
spell disaster for Rome.

But it benefited Roman art,

enriching and invigorating it
with exotic new styles and ideas.

After the demise of the so-called
good emperors of the second century,

Rome was in meltdown.

But her art remained resilient,
as our ten treasures,

many of them discovered
in surprisingly distant provinces,
will prove.

She's really beautiful.

We'll encounter
never before seen masterpieces
of unparalleled refinement,

as well as several often overlooked
works of art

imbued with a robust
and rugged magic.

This method of painting
didn't occur again

until the Italian renaissance.

Finally, we'll see how an obscure
cult from the near east triumphed,

signalling the end
of the Roman Empire

and setting the template for western
art for nearly two millennia.

Libya may be around 600 miles from
Rome as the imperial eagle flies,

but this, I believe,
is the best place

to start my exploration
of later Roman art.

There had been a city on this site

in the Roman province
of Tripolitania

since at least the time of Augustus,

but Leptis Magna, as it was called,

really came into its own at the
beginning of the third century AD

when it rapidly expanded
into a gleaming metropolis

bedecked with marble and all manner
of wonderful works of art.

It rivalled the great classical
African cities

of Carthage and Alexandria.

What makes Leptis Magna
so special today,

is that it's remarkably
well preserved.

You can still get a sense
of its grandeur during its heyday.

When it had a population of 100,000

living off its lucrative
olive oil trade.

The fascinating thing about this
upsurge in the city's prosperity

is that it was heavily linked
to the fortunes of a single man.

Born to an aristocratic
family here in Leptis,

this was a local boy
done very, very good

and his name was Septimius Severus.

Severus was a military man
who forced his way to power

and was proclaimed
emperor in AD 193.

As Roman emperors go,
he wasn't really all that Roman,

he came from Africa,
and he married a Syrian.

So Severus embodies a shift
in the history of the Empire,

as the focus widened
from the centre, to the periphery.

And you could even say that this
place is the cradle

of later Roman art.

On the surface,

Leptis Magna may appear to be
a miniature version of Rome,

but take a closer look and it
is Roman, but with a twist.

An African twist.

What could be more Roman than
a triumphal arch, you might ask.

This one was dedicated to
Septimius Severus around AD 204.

Over in Rome,
another one was dedicated to him

about the same time, in the Forum.

It's a classic piece
of imperial tub-thumping.

This one, though,
is quite different.

It's a strange fusion, this arch,
between the classical,

the Roman, and then the indigenous,
the new, the later Roman art.

You can see on either side
of the arch, these winged victories,

quite sensuous bodies,
quite old-fashioned,

quite old Roman iconography,
but also,

you can see above these Corinthian
columns on either side of the arch,

these very distinctive quite
strange, angled pediments.

Now, some people think
that these elements

are actually not really
Roman at all,

potentially quite indigenous
to Northern Africa.

And so these could be an allusion
to local building practices.

The top of the arch, the attic,
is decorated with four reliefs,

each of which depicts
the emperor himself, Septimius.

There's no sense of space and depth

as earlier classical artists
try to achieve.

Instead you can see
the bystanders have been arranged

in these two sort of rows,
so the ones who are further away

appear rather awkwardly
to be standing on a platform

just behind the near ones.

And the way that the drapery has
been created is very distinctive.

So you see lots and lots
of grooves and folds,

none of which really look the way
they would look in reality.

Instead they're quite interestingly
creating a linear effect,

a sense of patterning.

Have a look at the emperor
himself in the chariot.

He's not facing in the direction
of travel, he's completely frontal.

He's facing the viewer full on.

And this is something
that would become

increasingly common in Roman art.
From this point on,

the emperor could be considered
as divine within his own lifetime.

Situated at a crossroads,
the arch at Leptis Magna

points in the direction
of the future of Roman art.

It is a recognisably Roman monument
for sure,

but its vision of Rome is viewed
through the prism of the provinces,

so that the art of Rome
was starting to become

the art of the Roman world.

As I explore this wonderful place,

it becomes clear that the story
of late Roman art

isn't one of cultural decline,

but of crossing exciting
new aesthetic frontiers.

I feel very lucky

because I've basically got
this whole site to myself.

And this section of Leptis
is really stunning.

Septimius Severus created one huge
new complex,

involving a temple to his family,
a big forum,

and also, through here,
the basilica.

Originally covered by a roof,

the basilica was one of the most
important buildings in the city.

It was where citizens
met or did business

and it also served as a court house.

And you can see it's
one enormous rectangular space.

Part of the reason
why this is an exciting place

to think about later Roman art,
is at either end,

you have these pilasters
on either side of the apse,

sculpted out of
white Proconnesian marble,

and what you see, are these
peopled scrolls, as they're called.

With very lush foliage,
bursting up from the bottom,

covering each side of the pilaster.

It's a really extravagant,
luscious work of art.

Whereas lots of earlier
Roman reliefs were fairly shallow,

and quite elegant, these reliefs
are very different.

They're much more robust,
they're more vigorous.

Part of that is because
whoever made them, as you can see,

has used a drill.

And it doesn't sound like
the biggest exciting sort of aspect

of later Roman art,
but this drill work

became a hallmark of the later
Roman period in terms of art.

If you actually look up
close, you can see

the small cylinders where the drill
would have gone in initially.

You then chiselled
in between those holes

and you created a very deep effect.

And of course, this was really
useful here in Africa,

where the sun when it's high
is very, very sharp,

because it creates this strong
quite black and white effect.

The brightness of the white stone,

and then the dark blackness
of the deep shadow,

which is created by that recess.

And the effect is stunning.

There's such a beautiful sense
of profusion, of abundance, to that.

That's why I think it really does
feel extravagant,

as a sense of fertility,
rampantly exploding up that pillar.

Rome lasted as long as it did

not by tyrannically insisting
that everybody think,

behave and see the world
in the same way.

As long as the people
were loyal to Rome,

they could celebrate their
indigenous culture and beliefs

in a surprisingly open fashion.

Leptis was full of really
top quality, top-notch art.

But it was also full of art which
belonged to a different tradition,

the plebeian tradition,
the popular tradition.

And here's a good example,
which is really quite strange.

It's a centaur, with an extremely
large penis,

who also has a phallic nose,
and he's carrying a trident,

and with the trident, he's poking
at this, the evil eye,

and a snake and a scorpion.

So he's warding off evil.

It's hardly high culture,
but images like this show

how by allowing locals
to express themselves,

the Romans paved the way for a new
art, for the post-classical world.

The eclecticism of styles also
signals the Romans' political savvy.

Leptis is living proof of how
the Romans used art and culture

to rule the provinces.

Libyan archaeologist, Hafed Walda,
who's excavated Leptis Magna,

joins me on an outing
to the theatre.

This is magnificent.

They didn't spare anything
to make it really impressive.

This is one big monument
to a nouveau-riche regime.

Septimius was a big show-off.

He is a big show-off,
and he tarted it up so well.

And, of course, entertainment
is what emperors do to be loved.

I noticed on coming in that above
these sort of doorways to the sides,

there are very long inscriptions.

What do they tell us?

They tell us rich benefactors
contributed a lot

to the renovation of the theatre.

They themselves have their names
half-Libyan, half-Roman.

So, these inscriptions
tell us very clearly

that there were many different
cultures coalescing in this space?

Yes, there were a lot of people
here,

who felt strongly
about their religion and culture.

And what about works of art -

would there have been works of art
here in the theatre?

It's full of art.
There there's no doubt about it.

Classical works of art,
statues of deities,

statues of emperors' families.

I think it's a cultural place,
it's a focus for the city.

What Severus achieved here
placed Leptis on a par with Rome.

More than that, one extraordinary
recent discovery

reveals how artists here raised
an old art form to new heights.

The treasure I'm about to see

has only just been reassembled
in the Leptis Museum,

and is yet to be unveiled
to the world.

In terms of Roman art,
this is something of a scoop.

I'm looking at an epic
expanse of mosaic,

which was discovered
not far from here,

in a villa just outside
Leptis Magna.

What we see in each
of the five panels

is a scene connected with the arena.

This is a work of art which
dramatises Roman bloodlust.

In the middle, we have a scene
set in the hippodrome, the circus.

It's a chariot race.

It's quite painful to look at -
one horse is actually upside down,

another horse seems to be crushing
underneath the wheels,

as the wheels of the chariot
seem to almost be coming off.

And then on either side,
you have two sets,

of two scenes which mirror
each other.

You see beasts in the arena,
being taunted,

baited for the enjoyment
of the Roman public.

But the piece de resistance for me
are the panels at either end,

which are gladiator scenes.

One of the first things
that's immediately obvious

is that the figures in them
are practically life-sized.

There's a great poignancy and
sympathy to these gladiator scenes.

In each one, we see the moment

where one gladiator has prevailed
over the other.

I think this top panel
is extraordinary

for a number of reasons.

Take one, the figure to the right,

look at the way that's been
composed.

It is a complicated trick
to pull off.

We're not seeing the man
stretching out horizontally,

this is an example
of foreshortening,

where a sense of depth is created

because what's in front is bigger
than what's behind.

Very few artists, even in the rest
of the history of western art,

attempt something like this.

There's a sense of realism here,

an immensity of scale,

and a sense of psychology,

which is really fascinating
and sophisticated,

and completely surprising.

It's a very subtle and affecting,
melancholy work of art.

The mosaic wasn't
a North African invention,

but it is an art form at which
they excelled.

I head out of Leptis

to go and see what I'm told
is one of the most remarkable

collections of mosaics
still in situ.

Everywhere you go in Libya, there's
a reminder of the violent revolution

that recently overthrew the tyrant,
Gaddafi.

There's a sense of jubilation...

CAR HORNS BEEP AND MEN SHOUT

..but I can't help but feel that
the peace is a little precarious.

Policed, as it is,
by rival militias.

What I'm about to witness
is also testament

to the precarious state
of Libya's Roman heritage.

Adele Aturke is showing me
around a seaside villa

in what feels a bit like
the Roman version

of Location, Location, Location.

The previous owners of the villa
were a family of wealthy merchants,

exporting olive oil and tuna
from Tripolitania to Rome.

As you can see,
this is the back garden.

Comprises of the two main mosaics.

One is the geometry
as you can see it, on that side,

and then is a nice scene.

Well, these are really
quite delightful.

This is a continuation
of this Nile scene,

and we know it's the Nile scene,
cos there's a big crocodile in it.

One has been eaten by the crocodile,

and the other one's
tried to pull out.

This is the path.

And who's this?

You want to have a shower here?

I don't really want to shower
with these two men.

There is two type of materials here,

we have the frescoes,
and we have the mosaics.

And this is in situ,
where it was painted,

almost two millennia ago. Yeah.

This is very interesting,
this is the baby room.

This is the baby room?

Yes, as you can see,
beautiful frescoes.

This is great! So we've got
a series of cherubs. Yeah.

And here he is
with a spear and a bow.

It's all very, very
delicate, isn't it?

This is the dining room. What a
spectacular place for a banquet.

Yeah, this is the...
Looking at the waves. ..the waves.

Something is very interesting here,
I'll show you.

Oh, wow!

So this is like
a kind of centrepiece. Yes.

This has just been under
a piece of crate!

That's what we need to do,
this is the way we protect it.

What do you mean, protect it?
It's just a piece of old wood!

She's really beautiful.

Yes, she is.

I mean, again, look how
sort of delicate this is.

Every time I come to see this,
I feel really ashamed,

I feel that we haven't done
anything in this,

not only in this site,
it's everywhere.

All this site has been neglected
like this during the Gaddafi regime,

and if you come
another year or so,

maybe this will be
disappear and vanish completely.

If we don't look after them
very urgently.

I'm really angry.

This one piece.

These beautiful mosaics have been
criminally neglected.

And it upsets me to see them
decaying like rotten teeth.

It's thought there are dozens
of villas like this,

buried under the sand
along the Libyan coast.

And however much I'm intrigued
to see what treasures lie within,

for now, they're probably
better off left where they are.

I've been quite surprised
by my reaction to Leptis Magna,

because this really is a city
that rivalled parts of Rome

in terms of its magnificence.

And it's situated
on the North African coast.

It's nowhere near, in a sense,
the Italian peninsula.

So it really contains, it embodies,
that story of the Roman Empire,

as this one city state,
expanded and expanded and expanded,

until the peripheries of the Empire

almost became more important
than the centre itself.

I can understand why Gaddafi, in a
sense, neglected a place like this,

because it's so extravagantly
monumental.

And there's so much waste
everywhere,

that if you were a power-mad,
brutal dictator,

a place like this
could only be a reminder

that before long, inevitably,
your time would be up.

Libya wasn't the only province

to enjoy a political
and cultural renaissance.

Egypt also exerted a powerfully
exotic hold over Rome's imagination,

and some of the most stunning
finds of Roman art

were discovered in Antonopoulos and
the Faiyum region south of Cairo.

They unearthed mummies,
but no ordinary mummies.

The mummies had faces,
painted on wooden panels.

They're so realistic, it's hard
to believe they're 2,000 years old.

You really sense
that you're coming face to face

with people who inhabited
the Roman Empire.

This reconstruction,
based on the skull of the mummy,

proves just how lifelike
the painting is.

If you ever needed a visual symbol
of the great melting pot

that was the Roman Empire,
then this is it.

It dates from the early second
century, and we know who's inside,

thanks to this misspelt inscription
on the breast.

Apparently it reads,
"Farewell, Artemidorus."

There he is, you can see,

very realistic portrait
of the deceased man,

done on this wooden panel,
using the encaustic technique

which mixes pigment,
essentially with beeswax.

And beneath, you've got
a whole selection

of traditional Egyptian funerary
motifs, done in gold leaf.

So what you have
is this great melange

of different styles and cultures.

There's a Greek inscription,

there are these traditional
Egyptian motifs,

and there's this realistic portrait
done in the Roman style.

This is one of the chief defining
characteristics of Roman art.

Roman artists loved nothing more

than embracing and employing a whole
panoply of different approaches.

'John O'Carroll is a contemporary
painter who works in Egypt,

'using the same encaustic
techniques as the Romans.'

This is animal glue with just pure
pigment, so that's called distemper.

And that's what the artist
would have taken,

and started his portrait with,
just to give him a brief guideline.

I'm applying this wax now.

They would have worked
from dark to light.

And this preparation,
this sort of background,

is called a propalasmas,
because that is,

you're putting layers
of very thin wax and pigment

to start to create a moulded face.

You get a beautiful texture,

but you have to be careful to
eliminate the bumps and lumps,

so you get quite a smooth surface.

Just sort of
putting in the features,

this is based on one of the
portraits, just applying this white.

Also has a little bit of skin tone.

I'm using it in a very loose
sort of contemporary way,

however, it's the same process.

I'll go and scrape.

And really, it's just the process
of repeating, applying, scraping.

The thing with the matt wax method
is that it's very malleable,

and you can go and work into it
repeatedly,

so it gives you quite a lot
of freedom.

You can get a nice depth of colour.

This method of painting

didn't occur again
until the Italian Renaissance.

I'm amazed by the Romans' ability

to assimilate radically different
cultures into the imperial brand.

To appreciate the full
diversity of their art,

you have to leap from Africa
to the opposite end of the Empire -

to the far north.

The city of Bath was known as
Aquae Sulis to the Romans.

They built magnificent baths
around the sacred hot springs,

and a great temple
to worship Sulis Minerva,

a Romano-Celtic hybrid goddess.

Her gilded bronze head

is one of Roman Britain's
most beautiful treasures.

The influence of Celtic art
is clearly visible here.

These 14 pieces of carved stone

were once part of a brightly
painted temple facade.

The centrepiece is a bearded face
with snakes for hair.

Could be a Gorgon,

or even Sol, a Celtic god.

Look, the art here is quite basic,
almost naive,

but it speaks powerfully to both
the Roman and the indigenous people

in this corner of the Empire.

But there's another surprise

about the art found in Rome's
northern outposts -

some of the finest decorative
silverwork from the ancient world.

This exquisite hoard from
Kaiseraugst in Switzerland

dates back to the fourth century.

The silver was given by the Emperor
Constans to one of his generals.

Lavish imperial gifts like this

helped hold the late Empire
together,

and kept its leading subjects
loyal.

And for a conquered people, such art
had an ambassadorial function,

a glimpse of the civilised values
that joining the Empire would bring.

'With art playing such a key
role on the military front line,

'it's no surprise that two of the
best examples of Roman silverware

'have been found in Britain.'

Well, Alex, I've brought you here
to see this,

which is the Corbridge Lanx.

It was found in the 18th century
up in Northumberland,

I think near Hadrian's wall.

I mean, it's quite impressive to me,
as a layman,

not knowing anything
about how it could be made.

But for you as a silversmith,
how do you feel looking at it?

It is a very impressive
piece of silversmithing.

Once you've got the flat tray,

you would then proceed to emboss
the surface of it,

using a small hardened metal chisel
to hammer the surface.

If you look at the vine motif
around the edge,

you can actually
make out little chatter marks,

and they are in fact hammered lines.
So it must take forever to do it?

It's not a fast piece to make,
that's for sure.

I wonder how you feel
the technique of this

compares to maybe the most
famous piece of silver

in the collection at the British
Museum, which is just over here.

This comes from a big
hoard of treasure

known as the Mildenhall Hoard,

that was discovered in Suffolk
during the Second World War,

and the jewel in the crown
is this dish.

It's highly classical,

the way that the figures have
actually been created.

Here, the proportions feel
much more elegant and correct,

if you like... Mmm. ..but
beautifully sinuous and lithe.

To me, this suddenly looks like

it's a different order
of skill altogether.

It's a beautifully rendered
composition,

apart from anything else.

The drawing of the piece
is quite remarkable.

Definitely more subtle in the legs.

It looks very much as if
it could have been engraved,

which is, you know, using
a very sharp, pointed tool

to paint the little lines
across the body.

I mean, it's a combination of
techniques of chasing and engraving,

and engraving is really very fine,
neat and small lines.

Has the artistry that's visible
in this dish

been surpassed by silversmiths
since the time of ancient Rome?

In terms of the grace
of composition, pretty hard to beat.

ALASTAIR CHUCKLES

Decorative works like these

suggest that, contrary to the
traditional art historical argument,

the political decline of the
later Roman Empire was not matched

by a creative tailing-off
in its art.

Take the Portland Vase, a cameo
glass vessel from the early Empire,

widely regarded, rightly so, as one
of the greatest Roman treasures.

Without doubt, it's a smooth
and sinuous masterpiece.

But as far as glassware goes,
I think it's surpassed

by a work of vigorous poetry
from the later Roman period.

So just describe a little bit,
because if you look up close,

it looks like it's one
piece of glass. Yes.

And what, has it been
carved on the outer layer? Yeah.

Initially it was a much thicker
vessel and then it was cut down.

And then undercut in some places

so that the figures could stand
out from the vessel itself.

That seems completely extraordinary
because when you look up close,

I mean, practically,
some of these figures

are floating off the base
of the glass altogether. Yes.

How virtuoso would the person who
made this have had to have been?

Incredibly. They were probably used
to making cameos or cutting gems

and that kind of thing.

So this is really incredible -

and to be able to do it in such
fragile material as well is amazing.

Do we know who they are?
Yeah, it's Lycurgus.

Hence the name is at the front
of the vessel

and then there's Dionysus, he's
the god of wine and wine making.

And then a few of his friends,
I suppose?

Who were supposed to be making fun
of Lycurgus, once he'd been
trapped in the vines.

"Making fun," I think it's more than
that, they're about to kill him!

I mean, this guy is about to cast
a rock at poor old Lycurgus.

There is one other aspect, one CHIEF
characteristic of this cup,

which we haven't talked about yet.

If you block the light from behind
the cup there's a dark green colour,

which is reflected off the surface,

and then when you allow the light
through, it becomes red.

This is caused by tiny
particles of gold

alloyed with silver, within the cup,

that allow the red light only
to be transmitted through it

but, yet, at the same time scatter
green light from the surface.

So this is a conscious effect

that whoever made this was
trying to use? Yeah.

It's COMPLETELY stunning.
Yeah, it's absolutely incredible.

And it's hard to imagine how they
worked out how to do it.

Which gives the whole piece
a kind of magic.

I've returned
to the imperial capital.

During the third century,

Rome's provinces had more power
and influence than ever before

and that was because Rome herself

was stumbling from one crisis
to another.

If you were a Roman emperor
during the third century,

then life could be really quite
nasty, brutish and very short.

It was the age of anarchy,
it was a time of real crisis -

economic turmoil, the beginnings
of the decline of the Empire

and all of that would have
an extraordinary impact

upon the art that was being
produced in Rome.

The chaos was caused
by the increased power of the army

as it fought Rome's enemies
on the frontiers.

And the legions tended to proclaim
their commanders as emperors.

This is the Hall of the Emperors
in the Capitoline Museum

and almost every single one is here.
There's Hadrian...

Antoninus Pius...

there's a scowling Caracalla
just over there...

but I particularly like this
contrast between these two busts.

It shows how the sea change between
the so-called soldier emperors

of the third century AD
and their predecessors

was played out very graphically
in Roman art.

Here you have a bust of someone
called Alexander Severus.

He's a bit of a milk sop
and well-educated mummy's boy.

You can see that he's got very
boyish features,

very gentle, he was a pious man

and the style of the bust harks back
to that youthful idealising style

that was favoured by those
Julio-Claudian emperors

of the first century AD.

Sad thing was he was assassinated
by the army,

erm, and this man
took over in AD 235

with the brilliantly wicked
nefarious name, of Maximinus Thrax,

he'd make a good Bond villain.

It's completely different style,
a much more hard-boiled realism.

He's a terrifying thug, really -

you wouldn't want to pick
a fight with him -

and the contrast between them
is that of a predator and his prey.

It's a bit like seeing a killer
whale locked onto a wide-eyed seal.

The importance of the Roman general
in the third century

is reflected in a new vogue
in Roman art -

the sumptuously carved sarcophagus.

Traditionally, the Romans
had cremated their dead

but burial became more fashionable
in the second century AD

It gave the great and the good
a novel way

of preserving their memory
for posterity

and artists a chance to experiment.

This is the Portonaccio sarcophagus,

it was named after the area in Rome
where it was found

and it dates from
roundabout AD 180

and it's extraordinarily dynamic.

You have to think that friezes
on marble sarcophagi like this one

surely represent a pinnacle
of Roman art.

The detail and the execution
are so breathtaking.

The thing that never
ceases to amaze me

is the skill of the stone carvers
who made this

out of a single slab of marble.

Like the artists in Leptis Magna,

they used drills
to cut deep into the stone

before carving the details.

Here at the centre of this melee
you have a warrior on horseback

who's got this very resplendent
plume on top of his helmet,

signifying his rank and authority.

He's probably the deceased general
for whom this would have been
commissioned,

even though his face wasn't actually
carved for some reason.

And you can see him blasting his way
through this tumultuous vision
of warfare, really,

as the Romans, an unstoppable force,

relentlessly crush
the barbarians underfoot.

Strangely, though, the sculptor's
chosen to book-end the frieze

with these two really distinctive
eye-catching figures -

very careworn
but very dignified barbarians.

It might seem strange that a Roman
sculptor's almost asking us

to mentally identify with the enemy

but the thing about the sarcophagus
is that it's broadcasting messages

about how to be a good Roman.

And the Romans celebrated clemency

as much as they celebrated
ruthless blood-letting.

That's the message
of the whole piece -

how to be a decent,
upstanding Roman.

At the top you have this panel,

which commemorates and records
the blissful domestic life

of the deceased general.

And it is almost as though
the sculptor's saying -

oblivious to the fact that
the general's day job was
actually quite gruesome,

it involved hacking
poor barbarians to bits,

crushing them underfoot -

kind of didn't matter cos at the
end, right up until the very last,

he remained a good and faithful
Roman husband.

By the end of the third century,

Rome's leadership crisis threatened
to derail the whole Empire.

Desperate measures were needed.

I've come to Venice to see
artistic evidence

of a remarkable moment
in Roman history.

'The inauguration in AD 293
of the so-called Tetrarchs.

'These were four generals, each
given one corner of the Empire to
rule -

'the idea being that power-sharing
would prevent civil war.'

Grazie mille! Bye-bye.

You stopped at St Mark's Square,
thanks. Thank you.

Great. Right, erm, I tell you,
that is how to travel.

Now, let's go find some Tetrarchs.

And I think if we go to
St Mark's Square, we'll find them.

Can't believe I've been
to Venice before

and I missed these Tetrarchs,
because, well, here they are.

They're in the corner
of the Basilica di San Marco.

They probably originally
came from Istanbul

and they're carved from this hard,
reddish stone, called porphyry,

carved round about AD 300.

You can tell that they're military
men cos they're clasping swords.

You can see their armoured
breastplate, their cuirass.

There isn't a great deal
to tell them apart -

except for one very
significant detail.

Two of them have beards,
two are clean-shaven.

The beards signify the more
senior emperors,

who were each known as Augustus.

The clean-shaven colleagues
they are the junior emperors,

known as the Caesars.

The sculptor who has made these,

has been taking great pains
to suppress any individual
trait whatsoever,

instead, there's a kind of tendency,
much more towards abstraction.

It's a style of art that looks right
forward to the Middle Ages.

There's a sense that rather
than depicting individuals,

this is a symbol -

a symbol of solidarity,
of the group,

the togetherness of the Tetrarchs,
their brotherhood,

their power as four rather
than one individual emperor.

Certainly, they're supposed
to be forbidding and distant.

I actually don't really think they
look that forbidding at all.

I think they look quite cute,
a bit like those aliens,

you know, in the Toy Story films,

who are very lovable,
all exactly the same,

all worshiping The Claw, The Claw.

And here are these, kind of,
similar extraterrestrial figures,

hugging one another
for moral support.

So, I ask you this, who would you
rather be ruled by -

Augustus, immortalised for ever

in that mighty, famous statue
from Prima Porta,

or these four Tetrarchs
who almost look inhuman?

I know who I'd rather choose.

Contemporary artist Stephen Cox,

is the only sculptor
since antiquity,

to work with porphyry
from the Roman imperial quarry

in the Red Sea mountains of Egypt.

The piece of porphyry he's using for
his sculpture, called Dreadnought,

has chisel marks,
left by Roman sculptors.

It's amazing to be able to work
on a piece of stone

that was worked on by Romans

probably towards the middle
of the fourth century.

The importance of porphyry,

its colour...and its hardness,

was very attractive
to the symbolism of power

that was obviously constantly
needing to be represented

by the emperors

whose rule spread so wide

through the ancient world.

Purple objects, purple sculptures,

with emperors dressed
in imperial purple,

were sent out to establish
a symbol of authority

and it is extraordinary, really,
that they chose this purple stone,

which is the hardest stone
in the world,

to, if you like,

outlast any other material

that might otherwise be abused
by people of descent.

For me, the significance of porphyry

is something to do with
its intractability.

I suppose, in my nature,
it's to work with things

that are very difficult.

The amount of energy it requires to
transform something into something

that transcends its parts,

that's something to do with what it
is to make an object of sculpture.

In particular, for it to resonate
is something that leads me forward

to try and achieve things that maybe
weren't done in Roman times.

The Tetrarch experiment
was short-lived

because it relied upon a spirit
of collaboration -

unsurprisingly absent
in most Roman generals.

Soon the four Tetrarchs were at war.

One of the great turning points
in the history of the Roman Empire,

was the Battle of Milvian Bridge
outside Rome in AD 312.

An imposing arch was built next
to the Coliseum

to commemorate the victory
of this man, Constantine.

Constantine would go on to reunite
the Empire under his rule

and become one of the most
influential emperors
in Roman history

but that wasn't all.

Quite a lot of what
you encounter in Rome

still has the power to overwhelm
you, just in terms of sheer scale,

but...there are a few works of art

that bludgeon you into submission
like this one.

This is the Colossus
of Constantine the Great...

and you can see fragments...
"fragment" is not quite the word,

of what would have been this
colossal seated sculpture
of Constantine.

There's his arm,
you can see the throbbing bicep

and veins that are
as thick as a rope

and then the head itself,

the most impressive,
overpowering element of all.

It's two and a half metres high

and it would have been the apex of
a sculpture of Constantine seated,

enthroned as a god -
and this is a pagan sculpture.

He would have been presented as
Jupiter, holding an orb in one hand,

like a symbol of his power
over the globe.

He's got the features,
the visage of a god -

those eyes bulging out,
far too big for the face,

stare off into infinity
well above our heads.

This is art that feels,
in a funny way, almost fascistic.

It's a little bit repellent.

All of these scraps of sculpture,
have the subtlety, if you like,

of a big old avalanche.

There's nothing about this statue
that gives any hint

of what he's known for -

his conversion to an obscure cult
called Christianity.

And the consequences this had for
western civilisation and its art

are still with us today.

'I've come to the outskirts of Rome
for a glimpse of the faith

'as Constantine would have
first encountered it.'

Oh, there's a stampede of sheep!

This is the most beautiful thing.

I've woken up this morning,
near St Peter's in Rome,

come down the Appian Way

and I feel like I've walked back
thousands of years

and stumbled upon this
bucolic wonderland.

The world of Theocritus and Virgil,

with all of these sheep suddenly
appearing from nowhere

and somewhere there's a good
shepherd beating something.

It's really quite beautiful!

'At the start of the fourth century

'Christianity was still
a fringe religion,

'imported from the eastern
corner of the Empire.

'Only a fraction of Rome's
population was Christian...

'..and they were shunned as
outsiders and suffered
regular persecution.'

I really don't know where I am at
all but let's try and go down here.

It's really gloomy and spooky,

particularly as you
go deeper and deeper -

I want to be back
outside in the sunshine!

Ah, hello.

MAN MURMURS

Hi. Oh, sorry. OK.

(He didn't want to talk.)

(That was a bit eerie.)
Shall we carry on?

I've now descended into this
murky netherworld...

..which is part of this huge complex
of the catacombs outside Rome.

The cemeteries
for the Christian dead.

This one in particular
is the catacomb of St Callistus

who was an early Pope,
martyred in AD 222.

He was decapitated and then
chucked down a well.

And, of course, as you go around
the catacombs you see pieces of art.

Now, this is quite interesting.

We've got a couple
of sarcophagi here

and rather than being full of pagan
imagery, they are Christian.

This one is roughly,
I think it's fourth century AD.

It dates from the era of Constantine

and it's decorated with these
motifs of the Good Shepherd.

It's quite interesting,

we think of Jesus Christ today
as a bearded figure on a cross.

Early Christians thought about him
in this way, as a youth,

clean-shaven, bearing a sheep
on his shoulders.

You can actually see
there's the grisly remains

of the Christian who actually
was interred.

And it's quite interesting because
if you look at the carvings -

and this is not good art,
in my opinion, at all -

you know, this is a far cry
from the elegance,

the grandeur of earlier
pagan Roman art.

I mean, you compare it to this,
a stubby figure, very simply done.

It feels childlike, it feels naive.

So, in a sense, you can understand
why, for some people,

late Roman art has a really bad rep
but it does have a message,

a heart, and that's what redeems it,
perhaps, as a work of art

and makes it a treasure.

It's not materially
wonderful to look at

but it has an immaterial message
that's quite beautiful.

There's something quite robust
and simple and humble in itself -

the simple Christian doctrine,

which completely changed
the Roman Empire for ever.

From its humble origins,
Christian art really took off,

once it was established
as the imperial religion of Rome.

Constantine may have steered clear
of overt expressions of his
Christian faith in art...

..but later emperors
were not so coy.

This bronze colossus,

in the southeastern Italian city
of Barletta,

is more than five metres tall.

It's thought to be a late
Roman emperor.

One thing is for sure -

he's not hiding his Christianity
under a bushel!

One theory is that the colossus
originally stood in Ravenna,

on the Adriatic coast of Italy.

Ravenna today is a charming
provincial town...

..but during the fifth century,

it was the capital
of the western Roman Empire

and a bastion
of the Christian faith.

One woman presided over the creation
of this vision of heaven on earth -

Galla Placidia.

She was one of the most
extraordinary women
in Roman history,

daughter, wife and mother
of a line of emperors -

she even had a kid with a Goth!

This modest cross-shaped building
takes her name...

and contains our final treasure.

CHORAL MUSIC

'These beautiful mosaics
from the 420s

'reveal the way that Christian art

'evolved from
a very Roman tradition.'

Claudia, this place
is genuinely stunning,

it's really, really amazing,

and I can see that, obviously,
the imagery is overtly Christian,

there are crosses everywhere,
but really the DNA of it is pagan,

all of these motifs,
are borrowed from Roman art history.

SHE SPEAKS ITALIAN

But that is really interesting

because, I think, in many people's
minds, the Romans, the Christians,
they're at odds.

The popular image is of Romans
feeding Christians to the lions

but what you're saying
and what we see here,

is the two worlds meshed together.
Absolutely.

What's behind the door that says
forbidden access? Can we go inside?

You are welcome! Oh, good, thanks.

Is this... Are you working
on the other side of this door?

Is this where you're doing
the restoration? Presumably.

This is quite special! You don't
normally see it like this, do you?

The colours are SO bright
and intense.

I feel so delighted that I visited
the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia

because the mosaics are
astonishing...

..not least because almost
every element -

the vines, the beautiful
scrolling acanthus plants...

..EVEN the stars swirling,

swarming up against that rich
blue background of the dome,

they're all recognisable motifs
from the pagan Roman world...

..adapted, recycled
to a Christian context.

It just goes to show that
we should be wary

whenever people arbitrarily try
and tidy away history

into these fussy little boxes
because life is never that simple.

The history books tell us
that Ravenna's heyday,

coincided with the demise
of the Roman Empire.

Rome supposedly was laid to rest
in the year AD 476,

when a Germanic chieftain deposed
the last emperor,

but that doesn't mean
that Roman art stopped overnight.

And visiting Ravenna does
remind you of this

because here you've got
a Roman monument.

It's indelibly associated with
the fifth century after Christ,

i.e. before Rome supposedly
fell in 476,

but just over here, a stone's throw
away, is a resplendent church,

the church of San Vitale,
which scholars usually assign

to a completely different period
of art history altogether.

Thing is, I bet you -
I haven't been inside yet -

but I bet you, that the story
of how the ancients got
from there to there,

is as much about continuity
as it is about dramatic change.

The mosaics in San Vitale were made
in the century after Rome's fall.

They celebrate Justinian the Great,

who'd reclaimed Ravenna
from the Goths,

for the so-called eastern
Roman Empire.

Of course, as splendid
as, obviously, this is,

it's no longer Roman art,
it's Byzantine,

but just as the Romans supposedly
copied and looted

the art of the Greeks hundreds
of years earlier,

so what we see here emerged
out of the Roman world.

It's part of one vast continuum that
stretches back almost a millennium.

And I should keep my voice down
because I'm in a church

but that's partly why
I get so irritated

when people are sniffy
about Roman art.

I mean, it's even been questioned
whether or not it existed at all,

which is completely ridiculous.

Despite that, though,
I think it would be wrong

to avoid the big question marks
that still hang over Roman art,
even today.

As Monty Python almost put it, "What
has Roman art ever done for us?"

Well, the answer is, considerably
more than most people imagine.

The Romans gave us
the warts-and-all portrait bust...

..and a passion for realism...

..they pioneered monumental art...

..but also celebrated
the intimate...

and the sensual...

In terms of technique,

they set standards that wouldn't
be matched again for centuries...

..and in the end they gave
us the look of a faith,

that has dominated western art
ever since.

I've really felt two things
very strongly, sort of, overall.

One is just that the idea that
the Romans were

these incompetent, clodhopping
philistines when it came to art,

is just total nonsense.

You just have to look around

and you're confronted
by example after example

of really sophisticated,
top-notch, beautiful art.

The other thing I've felt

is a tremendous sense
of humility and modesty,

and I've just felt quite little,

like this dwarf kind of wandering
in amongst the world of giants.

And it's almost humbling to see
that nothing lasts for ever, at all.

Although, on the other hand,
a building like the Pantheon,
behind me,

is doing a pretty good job at making
a stab for immortality.

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