This overview discusses the development of the catacombs of Rome, focusing on their architectural evolution and their role in Christian burial practices. Tracing the transformation of subterranean cemeteries from the late second to the fourth century, it argues that the catacombs were distinct from contemporary pagan hypogea. Unlike their pagan counterparts, Christian catacombs featured vast networks of interconnected tunnels, a structured layout designed for expansion, and an intensive use of subterranean space. A defining characteristic of these burial sites was the deliberate placement of tombs near those of martyrs, which in turn became focal points for pilgrimage and veneration. The Callixtus catacomb exemplifies this trend, as it was developed with carefully planned access points and designated areas for noble burials. The chapter also challenges earlier assumptions that pagans continued to use catacombs extensively after the legalisation of Christianity. Instead, it argues that these spaces became increasingly exclusive to Christian communities, serving as both burial grounds and sacred spaces that reinforced communal identity and the cult of the martyrs.

This chapter examines late antique Armenia, focusing on its architectural developments, Christianisation and regional influences. It traces the evolution of Armenian church architecture between the fourth and seventh centuries, emphasising connections with Rome, Persia and Byzantium. The chapter discusses key archaeological findings, including churches, funerary monuments and inscriptions. Major sites like the basilica of Ereroykʿ, the church of Hṙipʿsimē and the patriarchal complexes of Duin and Zuartʿnocʿ reveal a shift from simple basilicas to complex domed designs. The chapter discusses innovations such as tetraconch and triconch plans and explores the role of elite patronage in church construction, as seen in the princely complex of Aruč. Rather than depicting Armenia as an isolated frontier, it argues that its architecture reflects strong ties with Syrian, Byzantine and Iranian traditions. Sculptural decoration, inscriptions and building techniques illustrate these cultural exchanges. While political shifts influenced construction, ongoing excavations continue to shape our understanding of Armenia’s late antique landscape. The chapter stresses the need for further archaeological research, particularly in under-explored areas, to provide a fuller picture of the region’s historical development.

The epilogue reflects on the memory of the 300,000 Italian emigrant soldiers today, in Italy and elsewhere. In the interwar period, emigrant communities erected monuments and commemorative plaques to the emigrant soldiers who had died on the battlefields between 1915 and 1918. The decision about whether and how to commemorate the ‘fallen soldiers’ from emigrant communities was one taken at a local level and usually a result of the interests and priorities of specific figures or groups, both state and civilian. There is no evidence of any coordinated programme of commemoration or coherent timeline. Today, there is little public awareness of the emigrant soldiers and neither did the centenary of the war, between 2014 and 2018, bring about any widespread recognition of their role and experiences in the war.

Political monuments are characterized by visual materiality that allows for and indeed invites engagement; the claim for permanence; and the force of visual presence. Caesar’s monuments, especially on the Capitol, signalled a decidedly new quality of presence irreconcilable with the fine balance of individual achievement and public recognition. The rules behind this balance were flexible, but collective consensus always retained the upper hand. The balance tipped only with Pompey’s enormous theatre complex on the Campus Martius. The complex created a new type of public space, and it set the precedent for Caesar, who took on the challenge of competition with his own Forum project. Such an omnipresent dynamic of increase provoked heavy polemics and fierce conflict, but this violence was not only tolerated but reckoned with as a possibility from the very start. It appeared more appropriate to accept repeated violation of tradition while still affirming it than to develop a fundamentally different, new ‘system’ of norms and behaviours. The mode of permanent transgression was indicative not only of a political culture in crisis but also of a culture of crisis.

Monuments hold a special significance for the shaping and the perpetuation of historical memory. The past is discussed in terms of the conceptual, idealized past of public monuments; the local past of ancient sites from the early days of the community; the genealogical past of homes and tombs; and the unifying past of historiography. Noting that the historical memory of the Romans will only transpire if these different forms of memory are synthesized, each one with due recognition to the institutions and situations in which memory were deployed, Tonio Hölscher argues for a certain hierarchy: prioritization of material expressions of the past leads him to regard Roman historiography as an offshoot of historical memory with limited social impact; monuments, on the other hand, powerful and with vast visibility in the centre of the city, wield inescapable impact upon Roman society. The essay concludes with Hölscher expressing his opinion on the place and design of the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin, the planning of which had become the focus of a major public debate in Germany at the time.

This introductory chapter reflects on the importance of monuments, topography and symbolic space in the production of Augustan ideology, both reviewing the manifold ways in which the princeps sought to impose himself on the urban and Italian landscape, and seeking to contextualise these within wider patterns in the literary and cultural construction of space in the first century BC. After a brief review of the ‘spatial turn’ in Classical Studies, it goes on to identify six broad categories within which the construction and representation of space in ancient literary texts has typically been considered in recent scholarship: the relation between written and physical cities; the relation between space and hegemonic power; the contrasting paradigms of hodological and cartographic space; the relation between centre and periphery; space as a site of cultural memory; and the conceptualisation of poetics in spatial terms. A final section traces some key themes that emerge from the volume’s remaining chapters and relates them to these wider trends in Classical Studies.

This chapter describes the topography and monuments of Antioch as known through the textual sources and archaeological investigations. The earthquakes that shattered the city on various occasions are also foregrounded.

Introduction to Spartan society and commemoration. A discussion of terms, methods, and themes. An introduction to memory studies. A look at the topography of ancient Sparta.

This chapter explores how the idea of sacrifice was used to render death in war acceptable – the death of enemies as well as of compatriots and allies – and how this public ideal was reconciled with the private sorrow of bereavement and mourning. Drawing on a distinction between sacrificing to (atonement) and sacrificing for (on behalf of the nation), it compares the response to death encouraged by the Church with the more classical ideal of heroic sacrifice promoted by Shaftesbury, by Addison, by the Patriot Bolingbroke and by Richard Glover in his epic poem Leonidas. And it considers how the sacrifice of the hero was brought into relation with the mourning of the bereaved, looking at examples in Glover, in funeral monuments, and in poems by Mark Akenside and William Collins.

This chapter uses the #RhodesMust Fall movement as a point of entry into the debate on decolonization of English in South African universities. The chapter reads striking similarities in the workings of monuments like Rhodes’ statue in the context of the Empire and the English-language syllabus, which was an important purveyor of the English culture in the colonies and continues to shape postcolonial cultural experience. The chapter further argues that although the #Rhodes Must Fall movement provided a renewed impetus for the decolonisation of English in South Africa, it never was a watershed moment. Instead it argues that reform in the English departments has been gradual, and slow in coming, without anything startling. It makes the argument that to understand the real challenge to the English Literature syllabus one needs to have a long view of history and to absorb what has been taking place on the margins for years, way before the emergence of huge bursts of resistance that the “Fallist” movement represents. These include, among others, the work of translation of Western classics by some of Africa’s foundational writers; the role of African-language literatures, and indeed, the founding of the Department of African Literature at the University of the Witwatersrand in the 80s, which was dedicated to the teaching of African and Black diaspora literatures.

This chapter offers a focussed look at the music of Johann Strauss (Son), Josef Strauss and Eduard Strauss composed in the 1860s, part of the Gründerzeit period. It deals with stylistic features of the waltz, polka, quadrille and march, performance venues and publication practices, together with their topicality – this including works that honour the Habsburg dynasty, celebrate the burgeoning world of commerce, industry and science, the liberalization of the press, images of old and new Vienna and of the surrounding countryside, physical well-being and the music of other composers.

This chapter explores the mediation of experience in Middle Republican Rome. Mediation ‘facilitates the externalization of memories we produce in our minds … [and] through the internalization of mediated memories … we participate in collective memory’.1 In what follows, I will suggest that the First Punic War was the first event in Roman history to be mediated in certain ways that held the real potential to transmute lived experience and personal recollection, supplementing them, or even replacing them, with a different set of narratives that emerged from innovations in Roman artistic production. In Rome in the late third and early second centuries BC, especially in the years after Rome’s first war with Carthage, we encounter the first time that memories of conflict were tied to Latin poetry and public narrative art. Accordingly, this chapter will track the impact that these new memorial media made on Rome’s cultures of memory.2

The power of place to stir memory was well-known in antiquity, and is exemplified by a speech Cicero places in the mouth of Piso in de Finibus (On Ends). Piso reflects on the Athenian cityscape, and remarks on the capacity of places and the memory associated with them to stir emotion even more strongly than hearing or reading.1 Accordingly, the role of monuments and buildings in Republican memory has been the focus of a good deal of recent scholarship.2 Nor was the mnemonic potential of buildings lost on the princeps himself: as recent work by Eric Orlin and others has shown, architecture played an important role in the Augustan regime, shaping memories of recent events, and stimulating remembrance of a more distant past.3 Examples include the temple of Apollo on the Palatine and the new constructions on the Capitoline (treated elsewhere in this volume), as well as the Forum Augustum, with its statues of Republican notables (the summi viri) evoking a particular model of Roman history.