Very different from the tomb of Dante, and different in the associations
it awakes, is the Rotunda or Mausoleum of Theodoric the Goth, outside
the Porta Serrata, whose daughter, Amalasuntha, as it is supposed, about
the year 530, erected this imposing structure as a certain place “to
keep his memory whole and mummy hid” for ever. But the Goth had not lain
in it long before Arianism went out of fashion quite, and the zealous
Roman Catholics despoiled his costly sleeping-place, and scattered his
ashes abroad. I do not know that any dead person has lived in it since.
The tomb is still a very solid affair,--a rotunda built of solid blocks
of limestone, and resting on a ten-sided base, each side having a recess
surmounted by an arch. The upper story is also decagonal, and is reached
by a flight of modern stone steps. The roof is composed of a single
block of Istrian limestone, scooped out like a shallow bowl inside; and,
being the biggest roof-stone I ever saw, I will give you the dimensions.
It is thirty-six feet in diameter, hollowed out to the depth of ten
feet, four feet thick at the center, and two feet nine inches at the
edges, and is estimated to weigh two hundred tons. Amalasuntha must have
had help in getting it up there. The lower story is partly under water.
The green grass of the inclosure in which it stands is damp enough for
frogs. An old woman opened the iron gate to let us in. Whether she was
any relation of the ancient proprietor, I did not inquire; but she had
so much trouble in, turning the key in the rusty lock, and letting
us in, that I presume we were the only visitors she has had for some
centuries.
Old women abound in Ravenna; at least, she was not young who showed
us the mausoleum of Galla Placidia. Placidia was also prudent and
foreseeing, and built this once magnificent sepulcher for her own
occupation. It is in the form of a Latin cross, forty-six feet in length
by about forty in width. The floor is paved with rich marbles; the
cupola is covered with mosaics of the time of the empress; and in the
arch over the door is a fine representation of the Good Shepherd. Behind
the altar is the massive sarcophagus of marble (its cover of silver
plates was long ago torn off) in which are literally the ashes of
the empress. She was immured in it as a mummy, in a sitting position,
clothed in imperial robes; and there the ghastly corpse sat in a
cypress-wood chair, to be looked at by anybody who chose to peep through
the aperture, for more than eleven hundred years, till one day, in 1577,
some children introduced a lighted candle, perhaps out of compassion for
her who sat so long in darkness, when her clothes caught fire, and she
was burned up,--a warning to all children not to play with a dead and
dry empress. In this resting-place are also the tombs of Honorius II.,
her brother, of Constantius III., her second husband, and of Honoria,
her daughter.
There are no other undisturbed tombs of the Caesars in existence. Hers
is almost the last, and the very small last, of a great succession. What
thoughts of a great empire in ruins do not force themselves on one in
the confined walls of this little chamber! What a woman was she whose
ashes lie there! She saw and aided the ruin of the empire; but it may be
said of her, that her vices were greater than her misfortunes. And
what a story is her life! Born to the purple, educated in the palace at
Constantinople, accomplished but not handsome, at the age of twenty she
was in Rome when Alaric besieged it. Carried off captive by the Goths,
she became the not unwilling object of the passion of King Adolphus, who
at length married her at Narbonne. At the nuptials the king, in a
Roman habit, occupied a seat lower than hers, while she sat on a throne
habited as a Roman empress, and received homage. Fifty handsome youths
bore to her in each hand a dish of gold, one filled with coin, and the
other with precious stones,--a small part only, these hundred vessels
of treasure, of the spoils the Goths brought from her country. When
Adolphus, who never abated his fondness for his Roman bride, was
assassinated at Barcelona, she was treated like a slave by his
assassins, and driven twelve miles on foot before the horse of his
murderer. Ransomed at length for six hundred thousand measures of wheat
by her brother Honorius, who handed her over struggling to Constantius,
one of his generals. But, once married, her reluctance ceased; and she
set herself to advance the interests of herself and husband, ruling him
as she had done the first one. Her purpose was accomplished when he
was declared joint emperor with Honorius. He died shortly after; and
scandalous stories of her intimacy with her brother caused her removal
to Constantinople; but she came back again, and reigned long as the
regent of her son, Valentinian III.,--a feeble youth, who never grew
to have either passions or talents, and was very likely, as was said,
enervated by his mother in dissolute indulgence, so that she might be
supreme. But she died at Rome in 450, much praised for her orthodoxy and
her devotion to the Trinity. And there was her daughter, Honoria, who
ran off with a chamberlain, and afterward offered to throw herself
into the arms of Attila who wouldn't take her as a gift at first,
but afterward demanded her, and fought to win her and her supposed
inheritance. But they were a bad lot altogether; and it is no credit to
a Christian of the nineteenth century to stay in this tomb so long.
Near this mausoleum is the magnificent Basilica of St. Vitale, built in
the reign of Justinian, and consecrated in 547, I was interested to
see it because it was erected in confessed imitation of St. Sophia at
Constantinople, is in the octagonal form, and has all the accessories of
Eastern splendor, according to the architectural authorities. Its effect
is really rich and splendid; and it rather dazzled us with its maze
of pillars, its upper and lower columns, its galleries, complicated
capitals, arches on arches, and Byzantine intricacies. To the student of
the very early ecclesiastical art, it must be an object of more interest
than even of wonder. But what I cared most to see were the mosaics in
the choir, executed in the time of Justinian, and as fresh and beautiful
as on the day they were made. The mosaics and the exquisite arabesques
on the roof of the choir, taken together, are certainly unequaled by any
other early church decoration I have seen; and they are as interesting
as they are beautiful. Any description of them is impossible; but
mention may be made of two characteristic groups, remarkable for
execution, and having yet a deeper interest.
In one compartment of the tribune is the figure of the Emperor
Justinian, holding a vase with consecrated offerings, and surrounded by
courtiers and soldiers. Opposite is the figure of the Empress Theodora,
holding a similar vase, and attended by ladies of her court. There is a
refinement and an elegance about the empress, a grace and sweet dignity,
that is fascinating. This is royalty,--stately and cold perhaps: even
the mouth may be a little cruel, I begin to perceive, as I think of her;
but she wears the purple by divine right. I have not seen on any walls
any figure walking out of history so captivating as this lady, who would
seem to have been worthy of apotheosis in a Christian edifice. Can
there be any doubt that this lovely woman was orthodox? She, also, has a
story, which you doubtless have been recalling as you read. Is it worth
while to repeat even its outlines? This charming regal woman was the
daughter of the keeper of the bears in the circus at Constantinople;
and she early went upon the stage as a pantomimist and buffoon. She was
beautiful, with regular features, a little pale, but with a tinge of
natural color, vivacious eyes, and an easy motion that displayed to
advantage the graces of her small but elegant figure. I can see all that
in the mosaic. But she sold her charms to whoever cared to buy them in
Constantinople; she led a life of dissipation that cannot be even hinted
at in these days; she went off to Egypt as the concubine of a general;
was deserted, and destitute even to misery in Cairo; wandered about a
vagabond in many Eastern cities, and won the reputation everywhere of
the most beautiful courtesan of her time; reappeared in Constantinople;
and, having, it is said, a vision of her future, suddenly took to a
pretension of virtue and plain sewing; contrived to gain the notice of
Justinian, to inflame his passions as she did those of all the world
besides, to captivate him into first an alliance, and at length a
marriage. The emperor raised her to an equal seat with himself on his
throne; and she was worshiped as empress in that city where she had been
admired as harlot. And on the throne she was a wise woman, courageous
and chaste; and had her palaces on the Bosphorus; and took good care of
her beauty, and indulged in the pleasures of a good table; had ministers
who kissed her feet; a crowd of women and eunuchs in her secret
chambers, whose passions she indulged; was avaricious and sometimes
cruel; and founded a convent for the irreclaimably bad of her own sex,
some of whom liked it, and some of whom threw themselves into the sea
in despair; and when she died was an irreparable loss to her emperor. So
that it seems to me it is a pity that the historian should say that she
was devout, but a little heretic.