Il conflitto fra Leone III Isaurico e il papato fra il 725 e il 733, e il ‘definitivo’ inizio del medioevo a Roma: un'ipotesi in discussione

This paper begins with an accusation of theft. 'The fall of the Roman empire' is a common, indeed standard, phrase used to refer to the effects of events such as the sack of Rome in 4io, and the deposing of Emperor Romulus Augus tulus in 476. Yet these events are relevant only to the fall of the western Roman empire. Of course everyone knows this; some authors even using the first formu lation and then changing to the second. What makes this self-deception of 'the fall of the Roman empire' possible, especially as we also all know that the eastern Roman empire continued beyond the fifth century, via Justinian in the sixth, until I453? Part of the answer seems to be that we-or at least those of us writing within the anglophone tradition-obscure the Roman status of the eastern empire by referring to it as the Byzantine empire, a term never as far as I know used by the rulers of that empire themselves. The combined effect of using 'Roman empire' for 'western Roman empire' and 'Byzantine empire' for'eastern Roman empire' is to deprive the eastern Roman empire of its romanitas (the 'theft' of my introduction) and, in turn, to make the West appear the sole inheritor of the Roman tradition. I have introduced the paper with this observation because the end of antiquity in the West is a fulcrum in arguments about the origins of Europe, and because any discussion of those origins involves well-known terms and phrases which may allow more than one meaning. In fact, it is likely that there is not a single concept of any importance in this paper which has not been the subject of debate. This is so not least with the concept of the continent of Europe, since Europe is not a con tinent (in the sense of being separate and contained), but rather a region of Eurasia. Europe is never referred to as a subcontinent, as India is, despite the vastly greater barrier represented by the Himalayas than by the Urals or the Don. Taking Europe to mean the culture identified with Europe for the last few centuries and in the modern world, the most prominent candidates for its origins are the Bronze Age, ancient Greece, the Roman empire, late antiquity in the West, the Carolingian dynasty, the Ottonian dynasty, and finally the Renaissance (or, after prehistory, one might say, the Greeks, the Romans, the barbarians, the Franks, the Saxons, and the Italians). All have been proposed as originators at various points over the last century; deciding between them is not a matter of establishing one right answer and six wrong ones, so much as weighing different criteria against one another. To me the evidence suggests that three criteria in particular are crucial, namely (a) cultural characteristics that are identifiable over an extended length of time; (b) an awareness of the concept of Europe; and (c) signs of a coherent process leading to the culture of present-day Europe.

This paper begins with an accusation of theft. 'The fall of the Roman empire' is a common, indeed standard, phrase used to refer to the effects of events such as the sack of Rome in 4io, and the deposing of Emperor Romulus Augus tulus in 476. Yet these events are relevant only to the fall of the western Roman empire. Of course everyone knows this; some authors even using the first formu lation and then changing to the second. What makes this self-deception of 'the fall of the Roman empire' possible, especially as we also all know that the eastern Roman empire continued beyond the fifth century, via Justinian in the sixth, until I453? Part of the answer seems to be that we-or at least those of us writing within the anglophone tradition-obscure the Roman status of the eastern empire by referring to it as the Byzantine empire, a term never as far as I know used by the rulers of that empire themselves. The combined effect of using 'Roman empire' for 'western Roman empire' and 'Byzantine empire' for'eastern Roman empire' is to deprive the eastern Roman empire of its romanitas (the 'theft' of my introduction) and, in turn, to make the West appear the sole inheritor of the Roman tradition. I have introduced the paper with this observation because the end of antiquity in the West is a fulcrum in arguments about the origins of Europe, and because any discussion of those origins involves well-known terms and phrases which may allow more than one meaning. In fact, it is likely that there is not a single concept of any importance in this paper which has not been the subject of debate. This is so not least with the concept of the continent of Europe, since Europe is not a con tinent (in the sense of being separate and contained), but rather a region of Eurasia. Europe is never referred to as a subcontinent, as India is, despite the vastly greater barrier represented by the Himalayas than by the Urals or the Don. Taking Europe to mean the culture identified with Europe for the last few centuries and in the modern world, the most prominent candidates for its origins are the Bronze Age, ancient Greece, the Roman empire, late antiquity in the West, the Carolingian dynasty, the Ottonian dynasty, and finally the Renaissance (or, after prehistory, one might say, the Greeks, the Romans, the barbarians, the Franks, the Saxons, and the Italians). All have been proposed as originators at various points over the last century; deciding between them is not a matter of establishing one right answer and six wrong ones, so much as weighing different criteria against one another. To me the evidence suggests that three criteria in particular are crucial, namely (a) cultural characteristics that are identifiable over an extended length of time; (b) an awareness of the concept of Europe; and (c) signs of a coherent process leading to the culture of present-day Europe.

Reviewed by: The Triumph of Empire: The Roman World from Hadrian to Constantine by Michael Kulikowski Christopher Kelly The Triumph of Empire: The Roman World from Hadrian to Constantine Michael Kulikowski Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2016. Pp. xxv + 360. ISBN 978-0-674-65961-2. Edward Gibbon had a point. In a rare pause in the powerful argumentative ambuscades of "General Observations on the Fall of the Roman Empire in the West"—the historian's hesitation is almost perceptible—he reflected: "The story of its ruin is simple and obvious; and instead of enquiring why the Roman empire was destroyed, we should rather be surprised that it had subsisted for so long" (The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. 3 (London, 1781), 631). Michael Kulikowski's The Triumph of Empire offers a thoughtful response to Gibbon's all too fleeting concern. The first seven chapters, which move the [End Page 242] imperial story from Trajan to Gordian III, are solidly (and usefully) conventional. Kulikowski's building blocks are imperial reigns; his focus is emperors—their entourages and dynastic rivalries, their political and military achievements and failures. The sheer weight of detail—some dense thickets of proper nouns—is sometimes in danger of overwhelming Kulikowski's key theme: the gradual shift away from an imperial government founded on Roman and Italian elites to one dominated by provincial powerbrokers. Trailed across the preceding narrative (22, 42–43, 92, 153, 167), this idea is finally crystallized in Chapter 15 ("The Structure of Empire Before and After Constantine"). This is Kulikowski at his analytical best, tracing the "equestrianisation" of imperial government, that is, the steady rise of a group of wealthy men, not as rich nor prominent as senators, who shouldered much of the hard work of empire—administrative, financial, infrastructural (food supply, transport, mines, naval and junior military commands). Emperors actively promoted the steady transfer of the responsibility for empire to equestrians, more firmly embedded than senators in provincial life and local patronage networks (254). The result was a change in the nature of imperial government. "The multiplication of equestrian experts in government brought with it a new sense that it was possible to manage things in fundamentally reproducible and impersonal ways across provinces, and without the adhoc-ery that had characterised republican and early imperial governance" (257). To be sure, there is room for debate. One might, for example, quibble at the prejudicial whiff of "gentlemen and players" in Kulikowski's sense of shift from amateur to professional. Or pull back from his assertion that equestrian careers were more meritocratic (73–74, 254). But what matters most is Kulikowski's concern to trace this process of equestrianization from the Antonines through the third century to Constantine. The claim of continuity is striking. It frames Kulikowski's most significant re-working of the standard history of the Roman Empire: an insistence that the third century ce should be treated "as a period with a historical dynamic of its own, not merely as a way station on the road between early and late empires" (118). The Triumph of Empire pivots on Kulikowski's understanding of the third century. (His approach neatly complements Clifford Ando, Imperial Rome ad 193 to 284: The Critical Century (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), a surprising omission from the bibliography). Kulikowski, in his finest and most compelling discussion, invites readers to look at the Roman Empire from the outside. "Europe", as Kulikowski wryly observes, "is a relatively small corner of the Eurasian landmass" (134). Chapter 8 ("Eurasian History and the Roman Empire") offers a series of splendid, compact surveys (note, in particular, the excellent accounts of Arsacid Parthia and the Central Asian steppes) to advance Kulikowski's argument that "in the third century ad the Roman empire entered Eurasian history for the first time" (119). This welcome widening of perspective means that Kulikowski's third-century chapters (9–11), though still heavily freighted by warfare and civil conflict, are not chiefly concerned to locate the internal failings (political, moral, military) of an empire over-ripened by its immoderate greatness and fatally enervated by the peaceful prosperity of the second century. Kulikowski steadfastly [End Page 243] refuses a...

A Revolutionary Narrative of European History: Bonneville's <i>History of Modern Europe</i> (1789–1792)

This chapter takes a look at Niccolò Machiavelli's treatment of Christianity as it entered Rome. By anticipating the coming of Christianity, he suggests that its attraction was merely a deepening of the appeals made with increasing and regrettable success during the period of Rome's decline. He states that Caesar was Rome's first tyrant and goes on to suggest that Caesar was actually outdone by Christ, in the same way that Caesar outdid the Gracchi. And although the Roman people so readily accepted Christ's alluring appeal, Machiavelli will not censure them. He places the blame for the success of Christianity in Rome instead on the constitution of that city which was unnecessarily vulnerable to the machinations of these aspiring tyrants; ancient Rome, in his view, was itself responsible for the favorable reception Christianity received there.

L’analisi archeomorfologica delle reti viarie come studio delle dinamiche evolutive del paesaggio. Il caso della bassa pianura veneta tra Padova e Rovigo

<i>The Material Fall of Roman Britain, 300–525 CE</i> By Robin Fleming. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press 2021. Pp. 303. $45. ISBN 978-0-8122-5244-6 (cloth).

Reviewed by: Sidonius Apollinaris and the Fall of Rome, A.D. 407–485 F. E. Romer Jill Harries. Sidonius Apollinaris and the Fall of Rome, A.D. 407–485. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. xiv + 292 pp. “It is a truth almost universally acknowledged that the Roman Empire in the West collapsed without a sound in the fifth century, but that nobody understood that the catastrophe had occurred before Byzantine chroniclers woke up belatedly to the fact in the sixth century.” Thus, Jill Harries sets out to prove that the Roman Empire was not a tree in the forest with no one to hear its fall, but that the aristocratic Sidonius Apollinaris heard it. Conversely, Sidonius’ own ambitions, attitudes, and sense of compromise “illustrate the wider political failure [End Page 663] of Rome in Gaul” (v). From the beginning we see her characteristic method of synthesis and analysis, as she proceeds both topically and chronologically to map the history of Sidonius’ Gallic world against his life and his concerns. Like “the death of Socrates,” however, “the fall of Rome” means different things. Harries defines the Roman Empire “purely in terms of a status system based on the ‘gradus dignitatum’ available to the aristocracy and [on] expertise in classical literature” (17). This definition is based on “the single most significant remark made by any contemporary western author on the end of Roman rule: ‘with the removal of the ranks of office, the only means by which the best men can be distinguished from their inferiors, hereafter the only mark of nobility will be knowledge of letters’” (16–17, translating Sid., Ep. 8.2.2). The view here is distinctly from Gaul, and mainly from Clermont: “Rome” is only an idea. Harries avoids the pitfall of writing a history of fifth-century Gaul as a whole, while also avoiding anachronism by adopting Sidonius’ viewpoint. This “fall” is, of course, a process, momentous but not instantaneous. We get a glimpse of a theoretical moment only, for the same process—with or without local awareness—repeated itself all over Gaul and the Western empire. The other terms in the title need clarification, too. The period A.D. 407–485 includes Sidonius’ lifetime (431[432?]-ca. 485) and ends, roughly, at his death, but it begins a generation earlier, the day after tens of thousands of non-Roman peoples crossed the Rhine into the empire on 31 December 406. There is an air of inevitability at first: the Rhine crossing, the political fragmentation of Gaul and Spain, dissensions between Romans and various Gothic leaders, the sack of Rome in 410, and the imposition of the Gothic emperor Attalus, “all had combined to undermine the credibility of Roman rule, and of Roman law, in the West” (66). The eleven chapters proceed chronologically, each weaving in the author’s main themes: the expanding effects of the Gothic arrival, the Gallic experience of Rome’s fall, and Sidonius’ perception of it. Even Sidonius requires definition, since he eludes us in his writings and is, often, an intellectual poseur, wrapped in the literary classicism of his age and social class: “his art mirrored life, but it could also distort it” (11). When he describes his beloved villa Avitacum, for example, we cannot tell what is real or unreal, so much does he echo the younger Pliny’s language. Then, in the 470s, Sidonius stopped classicizing and adopted a simpler, more preacherly style; yet, in the 480s, he changed back as a consolation for the fall of Rome. For these reasons, and because the often hard-to-read Sidonius has not yet found his literary expositor, Harries’ Introduction guides the historian to “what may be termed the political aspects of his technique” (3). The book’s argument is divided into two sections. Part I, “Lyon and Rome,” begins with the family history of the Apollinares and the Aviti, and ends with Sidonius in the urban prefecture at Rome, a scantily attested period, about which Harries writes provocatively. Herein are five chapters discussing (a) Sidonius [End Page 664] at Lyon and Arles, A.D. 430–455, (b) Avitus and the Goths, (c) Majorian, (d) Sidonius as Christian layman, A.D. 461–467...

Reviewed by: 428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire John Aloisi Giusto Traina . 428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire. Translated by Allan Cameron Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009 Pp. xix + 203. $24.95. Originally published in Italian (2007) and recently translated into English, this book by Giusto Traina provides a fascinating look at a single year during the [End Page 468] closing decades of the Roman Empire. The concept of focusing on a single year is not uncommon for years marked by major events. But Traina's approach is unusual for a year in late antiquity and for one when the most significant political event to occur was the fall of the kingdom of Armenia. However, by focusing on a relatively obscure year Traina has managed to write a book that provides a helpful glimpse of "ordinary" life near the end of the Roman Empire. Traina begins the book by discussing the end of the Armenian dynasty. He notes that by removing Artashes from the throne the Persians were hoping to draw the region away from Christianity and back toward Zoroastrianism. The fall of the kingdom also had a psychological impact on the region. Although the Roman Empire was still militarily superior to the Persians, the empire was unable to prevent the fall of the kingdom, and this blemished the empire's already flagging reputation. Chapters Two and Three examine the roles played by early fifth-century bishops, monks, and Saracens and the relationships between major eastern cities such as Antioch, Alexandria, and Constantinople. Traina spends a fair amount of space tracing Nestorius's journey on the Pilgrims' Road from Antioch to the eastern capital. The value of this narrative lies in the opportunity it provides for discussing the various cities along the eastern Mediterranean that Nestorius passed through on his journey of almost eight hundred Roman miles. Chapter Four focuses on the city of Constantinople and its newly installed bishop, Nestorius. In the early fifth century, Constantinople was growing rapidly both in size and prestige. As Traina points out, although the head of the city's diocese did not yet hold the title of patriarch or archbishop, "everyone knew that this episcopal throne had the same importance as Saint Peter's in the West" (27). Constantinople was quickly establishing itself as the leading Christian center of the eastern empire. Yet Nestorius's position as the de facto head of the Christian East was far from secure. Within a year of his election, Nestorius's theology was under serious attack. And just a few years later he would be deposed at the Council of Ephesus. Chapters Five and Six discuss the gradual decline of Rome and the rise of Ravenna as an important center of power in the Western Empire. In 428, Rome was still a vital symbol of the empire, but political power had largely shifted to Ravenna in the West and Constantinople in the East. Traina also points out that, although the church fathers of the period often used triumphal language when speaking about the spread of the Christian faith, paganism was still alive and well in the empire. In Chapters Seven and Eight Traina sees traces of a proto-medieval viewpoint developing among critics of the empire such as Salvian of Marseille, even as the Vandals were preparing to invade northern Africa. He notes that Christian authors during late antiquity and the middle ages frequently, but incorrectly, portrayed the Vandals as exceptionally destructive. Traina suggests that the Vandals were no more violent or "barbarian" than most contemporary groups in the region. In the remaining chapters Traina completes his sweeping counterclockwise tour of the Mediterranean by discussing events and people connected to Egypt, Jerusalem, and Persia. In 428, Cyril of Alexandria stood strongly opposed to [End Page 469] heretics, Jews, and pagans alike. But while Christianity had made enormous progress in Egypt, pagan religions had not disappeared along the Nile Valley. In many places, paganism had simply gone underground. Throughout the main text, Traina resists the temptation to interpret every event in light of where it was heading. But in the epilogue he helpfully ties together...

Perceptions of the early medieval Christian culture of the British Isles have long been shaped by a sense that this culture evolved away from the episcopal structures of the continental Roman Church immediately after the fall of the Roman Empire. Within the limited sources that describe this ‘Celtic Christianity’, the Briton Gildas emerges as a significant figure. In exploring the legacy of Gildas, this thesis demonstrates that the Christian culture of the British Isles in the early medieval period was neither idiosyncratic nor exceptional but, rather, connected to broader contestations over innovations in political and ecclesiastical authority in Western Europe.

Martin Winkler, editor The Fall of Roman Empire: Film and History Blackwell, 2009; 334 pages; $54-95 Edited and introduced by Martin Winkler, The Fall of Roman Empire: Film and History is a collection of essays providing a wide-ranging treatment of oft-maligned 1964 movie The Fall of Roman Empire, from a variety of historical and cinematic perspectives. The book fits within flourishing recent genre of scholarship exploring cinematic depictions of ancient world. In introduction, Winkler places The Fall in appropriate thematic context of an ongoing 'dialogue' between classical past and America of film's present. The Roman past has long served as a precedent, an ideal, and a warning to American political and cultural commentators, and The Fall provides a powerful example of this trend. Allen Ward in chapter 2, for example, makes particular reference to spirit of liberal internationalism in a movie produced not long after Cuban missile crisis.1 Yet at same time, The Fall represents a fairly radical departure from conventions of epic genre, and book highlights and lauds these differences with its peers. The sword-and-sandals spectacles that preceded it, most notably Quo Vadis, were fundamentally religious eschatologies, in which Roman decline was both prophesized and celebrated through clash of paganism and Christianity.2 Conversely, in The Fall, decline is presented purely in Roman and secular terms: it comes not through military defeat, but moral corruption and weakening of Roman institutions. The director, Anthony Mann, was interested in Rome at what he thought was its most civilized peak: end of age of Antonines, celebrated by Gibbon (a stated inspiration) as great water-mark of Roman civilization that preceded a long and grinding decline. The result of this is that The Fall is imbued not with religious triumphalism, but an air of futility and despair - We leave cinema with a sense of regret for doom of Rome.3 Winkler describes The Fall as boldly departing from epic tradition to focus on the mechanisms that underlie historical events,4 declaring that the film is a serious attempt to do justice to Roman civilization and to make a case for continuing importance of Roman history.5 Furthermore, goal of this type of filmmaking is praised not as an attempt to deliver literal factual truth about past, but to capture 'feeling' and 'understanding' of history for its audience.6 This praiseworthy perspective informs choice of much of content for this volume. It includes translations of major sources about Marcus Aurelius because Winkler deems that historical films such as this are best watched and evaluated alongside historical record. An essay of Mann's from 1964 (reprinted as chapter 6) demonstrates same attitude. This comparison extends throughout book. Diskin Clay, in chapter 3, barely references movie, instead discussing how Aurelius's stoicism was perceived in a range of ancient sources. In chapter four, Eleonora Cavallini uses film as basis for a discussion about misrepresentations of Commodus in historical and literary record. …

Journal Article The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Get access The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By Edward Gibbon. An Abridgement by D. M. Low. Chatto. 36s. R. W. Ketton-Cremer R. W. Ketton-Cremer Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar English: Journal of the English Association, Volume 13, Issue 76, Spring 1961, Pages 152–153, https://doi.org/10.1093/english/13.76.152 Published: 01 March 1961

(2001). The Fiftieth Anniversary of the International Journal of Group Psychotherapy: Introduction. International Journal of Group Psychotherapy: Vol. 51, No. 2, pp. 137-140.

The Egypt and Austria XI conference took place at the Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien (Vienna) from Tuesday 20th to Saturday 24th of September 2016. It was organized by the Egyptian and Near Eastern Collection of the KHM Wien and the Egypt and Austria Society. The conference board chose the following theme: In Search of the Orient. The culture of Ancient Egypt has always held a great fascination for humankind. But for centuries after the fall of the Roman Empire, all knowledge of Egypt and the Ancient World had gradually become lost. In close association with Egypt and Austria XI, the aim was to rediscover the Ancient Orient and devote ourselves to once again understanding in our time the significance and importance of this ancient culture in the world of science and research as well as in art, music and philosophy. Presented paper: The Nizzoli Project (2008-2016): re-examining the Nizzoli family through the retrieval of lost documentation and the discovery of Amalia Nizzoli‘s grave. https://orcid.org/0000-0002-8183-8483 https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1633-5377The Nizzoli Project Amalia Nizzoli WorldCat Record

Contextualizing the fall of the Roman Empire in the West in 476, and the unprecedented crisis in all respects, the barbarian invasions, the different civilizations and confrontation between Romans and barbarians, dominated and rulers. In this setting, the actions of Bishops graduates of the monasteries, culminating in the role of the monks in the evangelization of Medieval Europe. Exercise a reflection about this historical fact and its importance in Evangelization today.