This chapter examines the transition of pagan architecture and religious practices in Late Antiquity, focusing on the treatment of Roman temples under Christian emperors. Drawing on legal texts, literature, inscriptions and archaeological findings, it evaluates whether temples were preserved, repurposed or destroyed. Challenging the common assumption of widespread temple destruction, it argues that such actions were neither systematic nor state-enforced. Instead, the chapter presents a nuanced perspective, demonstrating that many temples remained intact and were gradually adapted for secular or Christian purposes. Archaeological evidence suggests that abandonment and natural decay played a greater role in their decline than deliberate demolition. It also highlights how Christian emperors often sought to suppress pagan rituals while preserving architectural heritage, with legal measures typically prohibiting sacrifices rather than mandating temple destruction. By emphasising regional variations in temple transformations and critically assessing sources that exaggerate instances of destruction, the chapter challenges traditional narratives, offering a more complex understanding of religious and architectural change in Late Antiquity.

This chapter explores the development of funerary archaeology in Late Antiquity, examining how burial practices evolved and how they have been interpreted over time. It argues that these practices were far more complex than previously assumed, shaped by a range of factors including religious beliefs, social status and local traditions. The chapter challenges earlier assumptions that grave goods were exclusively linked to pagan burials, demonstrating that Christians also placed objects in graves. It also examines the influence of nationalism and antiquarianism on the interpretation of burial sites, particularly in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. One of its key conclusions is that burial practices varied significantly and cannot be neatly categorised along religious or ethnic lines. Additionally, cemeteries served not only as places of interment but also as spaces for reinforcing social identity, political claims and communal memory. By integrating modern archaeological techniques with historical analysis, the chapter offers a more nuanced understanding of late antique funerary customs, moving beyond simplistic narratives of religious transformation.

This chapter examines the relationship between the Roman Empire and northern European ‘barbarian’ societies from the fourth to the mid seventh century, challenging the view that they were entirely separate. Instead, it argues that these regions remained deeply interconnected with Rome, even after the empire’s collapse. The discussion draws on archaeological evidence – settlements, burial customs and trade patterns – alongside historical sources like Gregory of Tours and Tacitus. Findings reveal growing Roman cultural influence in barbarian lands, reflected in changing burial rites, settlement structures and material culture. Roman imports in Germanic territories and diplomatic payments to frontier leaders further highlight this integration. The chapter contends that Rome’s fall was not a sudden rupture but a gradual transformation that reshaped northern Europe’s political landscape. The rise of new confederacies, including the Franks, Alamanni and Saxons, underscores this shift. Additionally, the chapter explores the spread of Christianity and its role in shaping post-Roman societies. Rather than viewing ‘barbarian migrations’ as simple population movements, the study emphasises a complex interplay of Roman policies, local power struggles and cultural evolution. A key takeaway is that Northern Europe’s integration into the post-Roman world was a fluid process, in which continuity and change coexisted.

The chapter examines the changing urban landscape of the western Roman Empire and its successor states from approximately 300 to 600. It explores how cities evolved in response to shifting political, economic and social conditions, analysing archaeological evidence and urban-planning trends. The chapter begins with an overview of recent developments in the field and outlines the diverse trajectories of urban centres across the region. Of central importance is the gradual transition from classical urbanism to post-classical forms, marked by the loss and reuse of monumental structures, the fortification of cities and the adaptation of existing infrastructure. Rather than depicting urban change as a straightforward decline, the chapter argues that cities underwent complex transformations, with some centres experiencing contraction while others remained vibrant. It also illustrates how elite participation, religious shifts and administrative restructuring influenced the built environment. Furthermore, attention is given to the role of city walls, which were expanded or reinforced to accommodate new defensive needs. The reuse of materials, including spolia, became a defining feature of late antique architecture. By integrating textual and material evidence, the chapter provides a nuanced perspective on how cities adapted to the challenges of Late Antiquity, maintaining their significance despite profound structural changes.

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 shows how late-antique emperors and bureaucrats looked to the jurists to understand how Classical Roman law worked, and thus built an entirely new legal system in order to put their ideas into practice. I first discuss how post-Severan emperors represented themselves in rescripts as explaining a settled and sovereign law, rather than making new law themselves. I then consider innovations in the indexing of imperial rescripts, which combined rescripts of multiple emperors into new collections organized by subject matter; these collections treated rescripts as legal documents, rather than nonsystematic interventions from an absolute ruler. I then consider how the massive expansions in imperial staffing and bureaucracy that mark the late-antique period, as well as an increase in the frequency and systematicity of legal education, could lead to regularized adjudicative outcomes that better tracked the dictates of juristic law. I finally contrast the treatment of juristic texts and resccripts in the Codex Theodosianus, showing how that text implicitly elevates jurists over emperors and how that elevation flows from broader changes in legal culture of the period.

This chapter explores the spread of Christianity in Late Antiquity, focusing on archaeological evidence and methodological challenges in tracing its expansion. It examines how Christianity transitioned from a marginalised faith to an institutionalised religion, emphasising regional differences in its adoption across the Mediterranean and beyond. The chapter discusses a variety of materials, including early Christian inscriptions, artefacts, funerary practices and architectural remains such as churches, baptisteries and monasteries. Sites like the house church at Dura Europos and early Christian catacombs provide crucial insights into the religion’s early development. The study also highlights the role of missionary activity and the influence of state policies, particularly after Constantine’s legalisation of Christianity in the fourth century. A major argument is that Christianity spread unevenly, with urban centres adopting it earlier than rural areas. The transition was not uniform, as some regions experienced periods of resistance or syncretism with existing religious traditions. The chapter underscores the difficulty of identifying Christian material culture due to the overlap with pagan symbols. The chapter rounds off by calling for a more critical approach to interpreting archaeological evidence and suggests that future research should focus on regional case studies to refine our understanding of Christianity’s complex expansion.

In 1809 Russia seized Finland from Sweden. Paradoxically, perhaps, this event ensued in the first chapter of Finland’s road to independence and autonomy: the Grand Duchy, or Grand Principality, of Finland. The following hundred years featured periods of weaker and stronger Russian influence, with emperors more and less benevolent towards Finland’s relative independence. This story is important in itself – at least to the Finns – but serves, here, as a heuristic tool to introduce the topic of this collection of essays: Platonic autonomy or self-government. In general, the notion of autonomy, its different features as well as political and personal strands, poses challenges to its users. Applied to states, it refers to something approximating sovereignty of states, but falling short of it. Applied to human individuals, it can refer to at least moral, existential and personal variants, all leading to different assessments as to what, if any, normative significance it has, and whether minimal conditions can be given for it. Its Platonic version seems particularly difficult to pin down. It may even be argued that Plato does not operate with a concept of personal autonomy. In difficulties, Plato teaches, storytelling may help, and looking at large letters may help in understanding the small (as in Republic 368c7–d7).

This chapter examines travel and communication in Late Antiquity, analysing the complexities of movement across the Roman and Byzantine worlds from the third to the eighth century. Rather than viewing this period as one of declining mobility, the chapter argues that travel remained vital, though its dynamics shifted due to political, economic and religious transformations. A major focus is on the infrastructure that supported travel, including roads, bridges, way stations and ports. The cursus publicus, the state-run courier system, is highlighted as a crucial mechanism for imperial communication and administrative efficiency. Trade networks, both maritime and overland, played a fundamental role in sustaining long-distance movement, with Mediterranean seaports, river transport and caravan routes facilitating commercial exchanges. Religious travel, particularly pilgrimage and episcopal councils, became increasingly significant after the rise of Christianity, with the movement of monks, clergy and pilgrims contributing to the spread of religious ideas and artistic traditions. The chapter also addresses migration, discussing the movements of soldiers, officials and entire populations in response to military campaigns, economic opportunities and political upheavals. In this way, this contribution demonstrates that mobility remained central to the late antique world, shaping social, economic and cultural interactions across the empire.

This chapter discusses the evolution of pagan iconography in Late Antiquity, examining how depictions of traditional gods and rituals changed between 300 and 700 CE. It challenges earlier interpretations that associate this period with artistic decline, instead emphasising continuity and transformation in the representation of pagan themes across various media. Drawing on legal, literary, epigraphic and archaeological evidence, the chapter provides a comprehensive perspective on the artistic and religious landscape of the period. It discusses key examples such as the Arch of Constantine, which repurposed older sacrificial motifs, and later fourth-century artworks like the Symmachi ivory diptych, which continued to depict pagan sacrifices despite the growing influence of Christianity. The chapter also examines the selective destruction of pagan imagery, particularly the mutilated reliefs from the Aphrodisias Sebasteion, demonstrating how sacrificial depictions were specifically targeted. The chapter concludes by noting that while sacrificial iconography faded, other pagan motifs – especially those associated with gods like Dionysus and Venus – remained prevalent in mosaics, silverware and textiles. This enduring presence underscores the adaptability of pagan imagery, which continued to influence artistic traditions long after the fall of the Roman Empire.

This chapter examines the production and significance of early Christian sarcophagi, emphasising their role in the development of Christian iconography and funerary practices. It explores a wide range of materials to provide a comprehensive understanding of how these objects were crafted and used. A key argument is that Christian sarcophagi were not a completely new artistic form but evolved from earlier Roman traditions. They were produced using techniques similar to those of their pagan counterparts, with artisans carving reliefs into marble chests, often on commission. However, Christian sarcophagi introduced new imagery, incorporating biblical scenes, martyrs and theological themes that conveyed the Christian hope for resurrection. The chapter challenges the assumption that sarcophagus production declined abruptly, instead demonstrating that Christian sarcophagi remained in use well into the fifth and sixth centuries, particularly in centres such as Rome, Gaul and Constantinople. Ultimately, the chapter argues that early Christian funerary art was both a continuation of tradition and a medium for transformation. Sarcophagi, in particular, were not merely burial containers but also status symbols for the Christian elite, reflecting their social aspirations and religious identity.