The Hagia Sophia in Istanbul has stood for nearly fifteen centuries – a masterpiece of Late Antique architecture, shaped by the empires, faiths, and upheavals that swept across its walls. Once the greatest cathedral of the Eastern Christian world, it became an imperial mosque, later a museum, and today once again serves as a place of Muslim worship. In this post, I explore the Hagia Sophia history and share my impressions from visiting it – illustrated with a rich selection of photographs.
Hagia Sophia history | histoire de Sainte-Sophie | geschiedenis van de Hagia Sophia | Geschichte der Hagia Sophia | historia de Santa Sofía | historia Hagii Sophii | storia di Santa Sofia | история Айя-Софии | アヤソフィアの歴史 | 아야 소피아의 역사 | 圣索菲亚大教堂的历史 | Ayasofya’nın tarihi
Today I want to introduce you to one of the most monumental buildings of Ancient Europe – the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. I had always thought of stepping inside and seeing it with my own eyes. When I finally managed to do so last year, I can’t say I was either surprised or disappointed, as I was already well-acquainted with the history of this temple. Yet, with the splendour of other sacred buildings – Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican – that I have had the chance to admire in recent years, and with the Blue Mosque standing right next to the Hagia Sophia, I couldn’t help but feel a certain disappointment at the way its interior looks today.
Let us then look into its history. Let us try to answer the question of what made this temple – the most illustrious and most exquisitely decorated Christian building of its time – although still standing in an almost intact mass, no longer inspire awe with its interior décor as it once did. Let us trace the events that, over the centuries, have shaped its present appearance.
The Beginnings
The Hagia Sophia, meaning Holy Wisdom, is actually the third temple to stand on this site. The first Basilica of Holy Wisdom in Constantinople was built by Emperor Constantius II in AD 360 – a church of the Eastern (Byzantine) rite, still within the single, undivided universal Church, though with liturgy in Greek and traditions distinct from those in the West. It was destroyed by fire in AD 404 during riots sparked by the exile of Patriarch John Chrysostom. The second church, larger and more magnificent, was built by Emperor Theodosius II in AD 415 – also in the Eastern rite, still formally united with the Western Church, yet with growing liturgical and theological differences. This one too was destroyed – in AD 532, during the Nika Revolt that shook the city. The third and most famous Hagia Sophia, whose essential form has survived to this day, was built by Emperor Justinian I. Completed in AD 537, it served as the cathedral of the Eastern rite and the principal church of the Patriarchate of Constantinople. It was a true masterpiece of Late Antique architecture – designed by Anthemius of Tralles and Isidore of Miletus, with a monumental dome, gilded mosaics, and marble cladding.
Very little written evidence has survived describing what the Hagia Sophia once looked like. Our modern vision is based on fragments of sources from the 6th to the 12th century, chiefly the works of Procopius of Caesarea, Paulus Silentiarius, and Bishop Anthony of Novgorod. Upon crossing the threshold of the Hagia Sophia, one would enter a space that seemed not of this world. The dome appeared to float in the air, suspended by an invisible chain of light, whose glow reflected off thousands of golden tesserae. Rays streaming through rows of windows spilled into the interior, mingling with the glow of lamps and candles. The walls and floors were clad in marbles of green, purple, white, and black, brought from the farthest provinces of the empire – from Thessaly, Egypt, and Phrygia. The great altar gleamed with gold, silver, and precious stones. Above it rose a ciborium, supported by columns of green stone adorned with gilded capitals. In the apse, high above the altar, shone a mosaic of the Mother of God with the Child, and below it rows of angels and saints. Along the naves and galleries stretched richly decorated balustrades, and everywhere the eye turned, the golden backgrounds of mosaics shimmered.
Though it has withstood the centuries, the Hagia Sophia suffered serious damage from earthquakes on several occasions – notably in AD 558, 989, and 1346, when parts of its dome collapsed and had to be rebuilt. Yet the greatest blow came not from nature but from human hands – during the Fourth Crusade in AD 1204, and, importantly, at the hands of Christians who were meant to defend the faith, yet ended up plundering the most illustrious Christian building of the age. It should be remembered, however, that since the Great Schism of AD 1054, the temple had represented the Eastern rite, and was thus an Orthodox cathedral, not a Latin (Western Church) one.
The IVth Crusade
At that time, the Angelos dynasty ruled Byzantium. In AD 1195, Emperor Isaac II Angelos was deposed and blinded by his own brother, Alexios III, who seized the throne. Isaac’s son, Alexios IV, fled to the West in search of help. In AD 1202, he reached the Crusaders, who were preparing an expedition to Egypt but lacked the funds to pay for the Venetian fleet. Alexios IV offered them an extraordinary bargain: if they helped him reclaim the throne, he would pay them a vast sum, provide supplies, and promised to unite the Eastern Church with Rome.
The Crusaders, financially bound by their contract with the Venetians, agreed. In AD 1203, they captured Constantinople and placed Isaac II and Alexios IV on the throne. The promised funds, however, proved impossible to raise without plunder and drastic taxation. In January AD 1204, a revolt broke out in the city. Alexios IV was overthrown and killed, and power passed to Alexios V Mourtzouphlos. In April AD 1204, the Crusaders attacked and seized the city once again – this time for themselves.
During the three-day sack, palaces, monasteries, and churches – including the Hagia Sophia – were plundered. Altars of marble and gold were dismantled, mosaics were smashed or prised apart for their golden tiles, and the church’s interior became a scene of profanation – chroniclers speak of horses being led inside and of feasts held in the sanctuary.
Among the priceless relics and treasures looted in AD 1204 was the Crown of Thorns, formerly kept in the imperial chapel of St Mary of the Pharos within the Great Palace. It fell into the hands of the Venetians, probably as part of the Crusaders’ debt repayment to the Republic. It was later purchased by King Louis IX of France, who brought it to Paris. To house it, the Sainte-Chapelle – a masterpiece of Rayonnant Gothic – was built between AD 1242 and 1248. The relic later passed to Notre-Dame Cathedral.
Decline
After the capture of Constantinople in AD 1204, the participants of the Fourth Crusade established the Latin Empire on its ruins, which lasted until AD 1261. Count Baldwin IX of Flanders was placed on the imperial throne and crowned in the Hagia Sophia. The church, until then the cathedral of the Patriarchate of Constantinople in the Eastern rite, was turned into a Latin cathedral, with the liturgy conducted in Latin according to the Western rite. The Orthodox patriarch was exiled and replaced by a Latin patriarch. The Latin Empire controlled only part of the former Byzantine territory, its power relying largely on Venetian support. Economically and militarily, the state was weak.
In AD 1261, the Byzantines of the Palaiologos dynasty recaptured the city, restoring the Eastern rite. Yet the empire they recovered was far smaller than in its glory days, holding mainly Constantinople, the Sea of Marmara region, parts of Thrace, and fragments of Greece. Economically devastated after the Latin occupation, its trade largely taken over by Venetians and Genoese, the empire was too poor and too weak to fully restore the Hagia Sophia. The church was repaired only provisionally, and the lost decorations and relics were never returned.
Politically, Byzantium was forced to navigate between stronger neighbours – the Latin states, Serbia, Bulgaria, and later the rising power of the Ottoman Empire. A weak economy made it impossible to maintain a large army, so the state relied mainly on alliances and mercenary troops for its defence. From the late 14th century, the Ottomans gradually seized Byzantine lands, so that by 1450 the empire had been reduced to Constantinople and a handful of nearby settlements. The city was by then sparsely populated – around 50,000-60,000 inhabitants, compared with several hundred thousand at its height in the 11th century. The Ottomans, under Sultan Mehmed II, prepared a major campaign, employing modern siege artillery, including massive bombards. The siege lasted from April until 29 May 1453, when the Turks breached the walls and entered the city.
Under the Ottoman Empire
After the capture of Constantinople in May 1453, Sultan Mehmed II almost immediately converted the Hagia Sophia into a mosque. The process began within the very first days after the city’s fall. First, the interior was cleansed, all remnants of Christian liturgy were removed, and elements essential for Muslim prayer were introduced. In the apse, a mihrab – a niche indicating the direction of Mecca – was installed, a minbar (pulpit for sermons) was added, and carpets were spread across the floor. The altar, reliquaries, and other liturgical furnishings were taken away. As a result, within just a few days of Constantinople’s capture, the Hagia Sophia was already functioning as a mosque, although the full adaptation of its architecture and aesthetics to the Islamic tradition would continue for decades.
In the first stage, the Christian mosaics and decorations were covered with cloths or a thin layer of plaster wherever required for Islamic prayer. In the 15th century, the Ottomans did not typically engage in the systematic destruction of such imagery – on the contrary, in the case of a monument as valuable and monumental as the Hagia Sophia, they favoured reversible methods, avoiding permanent interference with the decorative structure. The thin plaster was applied without deep bonding to the mosaics, making later uncovering easier. As a result, a significant portion of the mosaics survived the first decades of Ottoman rule in relatively good condition. Their complete covering or partial removal occurred only in the following centuries, usually due to renovations, moisture damage, or alterations. However, elements of gold and silver with intrinsic material value were melted down and reused for other purposes.
After the conversion of the Hagia Sophia into a mosque in 1453, work began on adding minarets, which would become a defining feature of its silhouette. The first minaret was built on the orders of Mehmed II soon after the city’s conquest, probably in brick or stone, positioned at one of the building’s corners. Its form was relatively slender and simple, in keeping with the Ottoman architecture of the time. In the 16th century, under Sultan Selim II and his successor Murad III, the renowned architect Mimar Sinan rebuilt the earlier minaret and added others, constructing them from white stone and giving them a more massive, harmonious appearance. Ultimately, the Hagia Sophia acquired four minarets – each slightly different, as they were built in different periods: the two south-western ones are larger and more solid, while the north-eastern and south-eastern are more slender. The minarets not only served a religious function (the call to prayer) but also became a visual symbol of the Islamisation of the former cathedral.
At Present
After the First World War, the Ottoman Empire, allied with Germany, was defeated. It was divided among the victorious powers, and Istanbul was occupied by British, French, and Italian forces. In Anatolia, the Turkish War of Independence (1919–1923) broke out under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Pasha, later known as Atatürk. It ended with the Treaty of Lausanne (1923), which recognised the sovereign Turkish state. In the same year, the sultanate was abolished, and the capital was moved from Constantinople (Istanbul) to Ankara.
The Hagia Sophia continued to function as a mosque until 1931, when it was closed to worshippers by decision of the Republican authorities. In 1935, as part of Atatürk’s secular reforms, it was converted into a museum. This opened the way for the first systematic conservation work, including the uncovering of mosaics that had been hidden since the Ottoman era.
In 2020, the Hagia Sophia was once again converted into a mosque, resulting in changes to both access and interior display. The ground floor – the main prayer space – is now reserved for Muslim worshippers (primarily men), while tourists may access only the upper galleries. The mosaics on the ground floor uncovered during conservation work have not been destroyed or plastered over, but are covered with cloths and curtains. Some of these coverings remain in place even outside prayer times. By contrast, the mosaics uncovered in the upper galleries – being outside the prayer area – remain accessible and visible to visitors.
Although I was equipped with a fairly good camera, I was nevertheless unable to fully capture what was happening on the lower level of the church. The angles from which photographs can be taken from the galleries did not allow for a precise view of that part, so from my own observation I cannot confirm exactly what the situation is in the lower section of the interior. My camera has good zoom, but in darker spaces exposure time has its limits if you don’t have a tripod.
As for the upper section in the galleries, as far as I can recall, only two or three uncovered mosaics were visible. One was in relatively good condition, the other was damaged by about half – just as shown in the photographs attached. There is also a mosaic in the entrance area, outside the prayer zone, which currently has no unrestricted access, so it is likely viewed only by tourists – and it is this very mosaic that depicts the scene in which Emperor Constantine the Great offers the city, and Emperor Justinian I offers the Hagia Sophia, to the Blessed Virgin Mary and Christ. A photograph of this mosaic is also included in this material.
In the upper section, almost everywhere one can see plastered surfaces that have not been renovated for years. Much of this plaster is cracked, with peeling paint, as is clearly visible in the photographs. Conservation work, however, can be seen being carried out on the exterior of the church.
Hagia Sophia in Pictures
Hagia Sophia inside as it currently is.
The Hagia Sophia is a living testament to centuries of faith, power, and change. Its walls still echo with the grandeur of its past, even as time and transformation have altered its form. Whatever its role, it remains one of the world’s most remarkable monuments.
The historic town of Riga has a long and complex past – shaped by merchants, clergy, and shifting powers. In this post, I start with the city’s history: who built it, who ruled it, and how it changed. Then I move on to the architecture – the streets, façades, and churches that still carry traces of that past
historic town of Riga | ville historique de Riga | historische Stadt Riga | ciudad histórica de Riga | historyczne miasto Ryga | Rīgas vēsturiskā pilsēta | исторический город Рига | リガの歴史的な町 | 리가의 역사적인 도시 | 里加历史古城
Today, I want to write about a city that left a lasting impression on me. I visited it twice, each time under completely different circumstances – and maybe that’s exactly why it stayed with me so strongly. I had the chance to walk around with my camera at various times of day – and even at night – over the course of several days. Most of my walks took place within a space of less than one kilometer in length and about 700 meters in width, covering the historic city center. Once or twice, I wandered a bit further in different directions to explore other corners. For work-related reasons, I also visited other districts, but I’ll leave those aside for now. What really mattered was that during one of my visits – actually while on a business trip – our organizers booked a hotel whose back entrance opened directly onto the Old Town. Just a few minutes outside and you could already feel the atmosphere of the place.
The city I’m writing about is Riga – the capital of Latvia, one of the Baltic States located in Northern Europe. The history and identity of this place turn out to be far more complex than they might seem at first glance, even though it lies over 2,000 kilometers away from the most popular destinations in Europe.
Historical Context
Riga was founded as a small settlement in the late 12th century by German merchants, and officially established as a city in 1201 by Bishop Albert of Buxhövden, who came to the region from northern Germany (specifically, Lübeck). Albert initiated the city’s development under German town law and laid the foundations for its urban structure.
In its early days, Riga had a commercial and missionary character.
Its location on the Daugava River, with direct access to the Baltic Sea, opened trade routes deep into the continent. At the level of the Old Town, the Daugava is about 500 meters wide and lies roughly 14 kilometers from the Baltic coast. Thanks to this, Riga quickly became one of the key ports on the Baltic. By the 13th and 14th centuries, it had joined the Hanseatic League – a network of trading cities that shaped the economic landscape of Northern Europe for several centuries. A typical medieval Hanseatic city structure emerged, with German elites, fortified walls, and a guild-based order.
The founding of Riga was closely tied to the Northern Crusades – a series of Christianization campaigns targeting pagan Baltic and Finnic tribes. This is a lesser-known, but highly significant chapter of medieval European history. Unlike the crusades to the Holy Land, these campaigns aimed at expanding Christianity (as well as political and trade influence) into the lands of present-day Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, and Finland. Their goals were both religious and strategic: converting local populations, securing military control over Baltic trade routes, and strengthening the power of the Church and German states. Pope Innocent III granted these expeditions the status of a crusade – participants received indulgences and papal support, just like in the Holy Land. Riga became the seat of an archbishopric, and in 1202, Bishop Albert founded the Order of the Livonian Brothers of the Sword (Fratres Militiae Christi de Livonia) – a new, local military order created to protect the Christian mission in Livonia (modern-day Latvia and Estonia). Riga thus became a strategic base for further missionary and military campaigns toward Estonia and Lithuania. In 1236, the Livonian Order was defeated by the Samogitians, a tribe inhabiting the southern part of present-day Latvia and northern Lithuania. After this defeat, the order was absorbed into the Teutonic Order, a powerful organization established by German crusaders active in areas that today form northern Poland and Lithuania.
The Teutonic Order and the Hanseatic cities, including Riga, shared common interests for a long time. Both sides aimed to stabilize trade in the Baltic Sea, secure maritime and river routes, and promote the Christianization and “civilization” of the pagan regions along the eastern Baltic coast. Riga actively benefited from the military protection provided by the Order, while the Order relied on the trade network and infrastructure of the Hanseatic League. Over time, however, tensions began to rise. The Order was a feudal and military structure, focused on centralizing power, whereas the Hanseatic League represented the interests of autonomous cities and merchant guilds. The Order attempted to interfere in city affairs – for example, by installing its own mayors or limiting the independence of guilds. This led to growing conflicts and friction between the two sides, despite their earlier cooperation.
historic town of Riga | ville historique de Riga | historische Stadt Riga | ciudad histórica de Riga | historyczne miasto Ryga | Rīgas vēsturiskā pilsēta | исторический город Рига | リガの歴史的な町 | 리가의 역사적인 도시 | 里加历史古城
The Teutonic Order lost much of its influence after the Battle of Grunwald in 1410. However, its state survived – though weakened and reorganized. It’s important to note that Riga was not part of the Order’s main territory, but was located in Livonia – a region administered by the Livonian branch of the Teutonic Order. While formally dependent on the Order’s central authority, in practice this branch operated with a fair degree of autonomy. That’s why the defeat at Grunwald didn’t have as direct an impact on Riga as it did, for example, on Malbork. Still, it created a new political landscape. Riga seized the opportunity and began to assert its independence more actively.
During the period of Teutonic dominance, up until the late 15th century, Riga was formally divided between the Archbishop of Riga, the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, and the City Council. These three centers of power competed for influence, but the city gradually gained more independence, especially in economic and municipal matters. By the end of the 15th century, Riga entered a phase of open conflict with both the archbishop and the Order. Between 1491 and 1520, the city was effectively engaged in a local war for autonomy. There were sieges, street fights, and constant struggles for control. In the end, the City Council retained authority over internal affairs, laying the foundations for a self-governing city. The turning point came during the Reformation – in 1522, Riga officially adopted Lutheranism. This marked a final break from the previous church-feudal structure and a major step toward spiritual, political, and economic independence.
From that point on, Riga became a de facto free Hanseatic city – self-governed, with its own administration, religion, and direction of development. Although it was still formally part of the Archbishopric of Riga and subject to various external influences, its autonomy was real and lasted well into the early modern period. However, this era also coincided with the decline of the Hanseatic League. The geography of trade routes began to shift, as this was also the age of geographical discoveries. At the same time, emerging nation-states were becoming more interested in controlling economic flows, especially in the form of taxes and customs duties. After the Teutonic Order’s decline and the collapse of its power in Livonia, Riga entered new phases of dependence – no longer under the Order, but now under the influence of state powers. The merchant elites continued to fight for their position, but the opponents had changed.
In the following period, during the Livonian Wars of the 16th century, Riga came under the authority of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. In 1581, it was officially recognized as a free city under the protection of King Stephen Báthory. The arrangement turned out to be fairly liberal. Riga retained full economic autonomy, its own judicial system, Protestant faith, and self-governing structure. In practice, its obligations to the king were minimal. Over time, however, tensions grew. Attempts at Catholic Counter-Reformation, supported by the monarchy, were not welcomed by the Protestant bourgeoisie. The City Council sought to resist religious interference, and the city began to explore closer ties with Sweden, which offered protection without religious pressure.
In 1621, during the war with Sigismund III Vasa, King Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden captured Riga, marking the beginning of a new chapter in the city’s history. Riga became the second-largest city in the Swedish Empire, after Stockholm. Although it was subject to the Swedish crown, it enjoyed a high degree of autonomy. The municipal structure was preserved, as was the dominance of the German bourgeoisie, the city’s Protestant identity, and its well-developed education system. For merchants, this was a time of stability, commercial freedom, and growth. Riga played an important economic and administrative role within the Swedish state. While tensions with royal officials occasionally arose, they were not destabilizing. It was a golden age of self-governance for Riga’s Protestant bourgeois society.
In 1710, during the Great Northern War, Riga was captured by the Russian troops of Tsar Peter I. Along with all of Livonia, it was incorporated into the Russian Empire. Although Riga had been part of Russia since 1710, a certain degree of local autonomy was initially preserved, and the German bourgeoisie continued to dominate the city’s administration, commerce, and culture. Over time, however, Russia gradually introduced its own official structures, changed the legal system, and reduced the influence of the German elite. Russification policies were supported, and the Russian presence in the city began to grow. Despite these changes, Riga remained one of the empire’s most important ports and a major industrial center, especially during the 19th century. The merchant autonomy was eventually curtailed by the centralization of the imperial administration. The German bourgeois class, which had shaped Riga’s identity for centuries, gradually lost its influence. Still, until the 20th century, the city retained a distinctive cultural and commercial continuity rooted in its Hanseatic, Protestant, and urban traditions – though now subject to the wider interests of imperial powers. Each of these historical phases left its mark – not only in architecture, but also in language, religion, culture, and the urban fabric. Riga was a truly multiethnic metropolis, home to Baltic Germans, Latvians, Jews, Poles, Russians, and other communities, where Eastern and Western influences coexisted and intertwined on many levels.
In the interwar period, after gaining independence in 1918, Riga became the capital of a young and ambitious republic. After World War II, it was incorporated into the Soviet Union and went through a difficult phase of intense Sovietization, which left a mark on both the urban fabric and the lives of its residents. Today, Riga is the independent capital of a European country that has been a member of the European Union since 2004.
Walking the Streets of Riga
Riga’s wealth, accumulated over centuries thanks to its strategic location on the Daugava River and its role as one of the region’s major trading ports, has always been reflected in the city’s architecture. Every period of prosperity left behind its mark in the form of representative buildings – both religious and secular. During its time in the Hanseatic League, Gothic merchant warehouses, churches, and guild halls were constructed. Under Swedish rule, new public buildings and schools were added, often supported by the crown. Then, in the 19th century, during the period of Russian rule, Riga experienced a true economic boom as an industrial and port hub of the empire. This sparked rapid urban and architectural growth, resulting in the construction of dozens of buildings in eclectic, neo-Renaissance, and especially Art Nouveau styles. Walking through its streets, you get the feeling that everything exists side by side – old and new, monumental and intimate, Western and Eastern. And maybe that’s exactly why it’s a place you want to return to.
Let’s take a look at a piece of the Old Town and a few spots nearby. This will be a somewhat subjective walk. From the hotel where we were staying, using the side entrance, it took just about five minutes to reach the Gothic rear wall of St. Peter’s Church. There’s a tiny square there where you can sit for a moment, and the nearby streets lead straight into the busiest part of the Old Town, filled with tourists, cafés, and restaurants. This spot is easy to recognize thanks to a small but distinctive sculpture featuring four animals stacked on top of one another: a donkey, a dog, a cat, and a rooster. It’s a direct reference to the fairy tale The Town Musicians of Bremen by the Brothers Grimm. The animals are arranged in a pyramid, just as described in the story, in which four abandoned animals set off together for Bremen to become musicians. The sculpture was installed in 1990 as a gift from the city of Bremen to Riga, as a gesture of partnership and solidarity between two Hanseatic cities.
When you stand behind St. Peter’s Church and look to the right, you’ll notice an unassuming building with a beautiful bas-relief. This is one of the structures that belong to the Konventa Sēta complex – or monastic courtyard. The fact that it forms a cohesive complex only becomes fully visible when you look down from St. Peter’s tower. The origins of this site go back to the 13th century. It was originally founded as a Dominican monastery, brought to Riga by Bishop Albert as part of establishing church and urban structures in the newly Christianized region. The Dominicans, a preaching order, played a significant role in shaping the city’s religious, educational, and social life. At the heart of the complex was a monastery with a chapel, which in the 14th and 15th centuries was expanded and transformed into St. John’s Church. The building has retained its Gothic character, including a stepped gable with vertical pilaster strips and copper details. Around the church, cloisters, convent houses, utility buildings, workshops, and warehouses were built, forming a self-contained and functional urban quarter. After the Reformation in the 16th century, the Dominicans left the monastery. St. John’s Church was handed over to the Lutheran community, while the remaining buildings came under the administration of the city authorities and were used as storage spaces, residences, and workshops. Despite these changes, the original spatial layout was preserved. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, some buildings were rebuilt. After World War II, the complex was placed under heritage protection, and in the 1970s and 1980s, it was restored and unified under the name Konventa Sēta. Today, it includes St. John’s Church, former monastic buildings, courtyards, and parts of the medieval city walls.
Konventa Sēta with St John’s Church visible in the background. Some of the photos were taken from the observation platform on the tower of St Peter’s Church.
When you first approach St. Peter’s Church in Riga from the rear, you’re convinced you’re about to enter a magnificent Gothic structure. The red-brick apse, stepped gables, and pointed arch windows all speak to its medieval origins and architectural coherence. But as you walk around to the main entrance, you’re met with a completely different façade – one that unmistakably belongs to a later period. Baroque portals, sculpted figures, and curving volutes mark a shift in style and fashion. It becomes immediately clear that at some point, only the front of the church was rebuilt to reflect the aesthetics of a newer era. This contrast is the result of centuries of reconstruction and adaptation. St. Peter’s Church (Svētā Pētera baznīca) is one of Riga’s oldest churches, with origins dating back to the 13th century, when the first wooden building was erected. In the 14th century, it was rebuilt as a Gothic brick basilica, with a three-aisled interior and a prominent tower. Over the centuries, the church was repeatedly damaged by fires – most notably in 1666 – leading to significant structural changes. The greatest transformation occurred in the 17th and 18th centuries, when the main façade and the tower were redesigned in the Baroque style. The tower, after collapsing in 1721, was rebuilt in its current form, and the western entrance took on its ornate appearance, in line with architectural trends of the time. Despite these changes, much of the medieval layout and Gothic detailing – especially in the eastern part of the church – remains intact.
St Peter’s Church seen from the rear, where it appears distinctly Gothic, followed by views of the front façade – rebuilt in the Baroque style – and the interior.
Upon leaving St Peter’s Church, if you turn left and walk in the direction of the Daugava River, you will arrive at Town Hall Square (Rātslaukums). This square is home to the Riga Town Hall, which was rebuilt after the Second World War, and also to two strikingly ornate, interconnected buildings now commonly referred to as the House of the Blackheads. Although they now form a unified architectural complex, their origins and original functions remained separate until the late 19th century.
historic town of Riga | ville historique de Riga | historische Stadt Riga | ciudad histórica de Riga | historyczne miasto Ryga | Rīgas vēsturiskā pilsēta | исторический город Рига | リガの歴史的な町 | 리가의 역사적인 도시 | 里加历史古城
The House of the Blackheads (Latvian: Melngalvju nams) is the older of the two. It was originally built in 1334 as the “New House of the Great Guild”, used by local merchants for ceremonial and representative purposes. From the mid-15th century, it was rented by the Brotherhood of Blackheads – an elite association of unmarried merchants and shipowners who held meetings, balls, concerts, and charitable events there. Over time, the Brotherhood became the building’s owners. Its façade was rebuilt in a mannerist style (notably in 1615), with rich ornamentation and the addition of the famous clock in 1626. The building was destroyed during the Second World War and was fully reconstructed between 1996 and 1999. Immediately to the left of the House of the Blackheads stands a smaller building now known as the Schwabe House. It originated in the medieval period as an independent burgher’s townhouse, whose exact function is no longer clearly known (likely residential and commercial). In 1889–1891, the house was thoroughly rebuilt to a new, representational design by architect Karl Felsko for the Schwabe trading company, which gave the building its name. During that time, it was also functionally and structurally integrated with the House of the Blackheads, forming a coherent ensemble with aligned stylistic and practical purposes.
Today, the two buildings are regarded as a single complex, commonly referred to as the House of the Blackheads. In addition to their architectural and historical significance, they now serve as a prominent venue for official events, exhibitions, and tourism, and form one of the key landmarks of Riga’s Old Town.
Aerial view of Town Hall Square, followed by images of the façade of the House of the Blackheads, the statue of Roland in the centre of the square, and several decorative figures on the building itself – including St George slaying the dragon, St Maurice with his characteristic black face, and the figure of the City Guard.
The Brotherhood of Blackheads was a historical association of unmarried foreign merchants, most of them of German origin, who were active in Riga from the 14th century. The Brotherhood functioned as both a commercial and semi-military organisation, playing a key role in the economic, social, and ceremonial life of the city. Members helped protect merchant convoys, financed civic projects, and organised important public celebrations. The name “Blackheads” might appear unusual at first glance, but it has a clear origin. The guild’s patron saint was Saint Maurice — a Roman legionary commander of African origin, who is traditionally depicted in medieval European iconography with a black head. It is from this iconographic image that the Brotherhood took its name. A small statue of a dark-headed man, referencing St Maurice, still adorns the entrance to the House of the Blackheads.
Also drawing attention on the square is an independent townhouse with a dark – almost black -façade, separated from the House of the Blackheads by a small side street. It is not connected to, nor historically part of, the Blackheads complex. This is an ordinary burgher’s building, most likely constructed in the 19th century as part of a row of administrative or commercial properties lining the square. Due to its strikingly dark façade and proximity to the well-known House of the Blackheads, it is often mistakenly associated with the complex. Its distinctive appearance stems from the deep, shadowy colour of its exterior, which stands in sharp contrast to the bright red bricks of the adjacent buildings.
At the centre of the square stands the statue of Roland, the medieval knight and legendary paladin of Charlemagne. His presence symbolises the city’s medieval legal independence and civic pride, in keeping with similar Roland statues found in other Hanseatic towns.
Approaching from Town Hall Square and heading towards the central parts of Riga’s historic old town, one arrives at Riga Cathedral (Rīgas Doms) – the largest medieval church in Latvia and one of the city’s key landmarks. Construction began on 25 July 1211 at the initiative of Bishop Albert. From the outset, the cathedral was intended to serve as the spiritual centre of the new diocese.
The original church was built in the Romanesque style, but by the 13th and 14th centuries it had already undergone significant extensions in the Gothic style. In the 15th century, the tower was added and the chancel enlarged. Along with adjoining cloisters, chapter buildings, and an enclosed courtyard, the cathedral formed a self-contained complex of great religious and intellectual significance – home to schools, scribes, and early missionary work.
After Riga adopted Lutheranism in 1522, the cathedral – like many other churches in the city – was transferred to the Evangelical Lutheran congregation. Over the following centuries, it suffered repeated damage: partial destruction in the 16th century, and again during Swedish and Russian sieges. In the 18th century, the tower was topped with a Baroque spire, which for a time became the tallest structure in the city. At the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, the building underwent substantial restoration in the spirit of historicism, with efforts to recover some of its Gothic features. The monumental pipe organ installed at this time was for many years considered one of the largest in Europe.
During the Soviet period, the cathedral was secularised and used as a concert hall, which, despite the loss of its religious function, helped ensure its preservation. Following Latvia’s independence in 1991, the building was returned to the Evangelical Lutheran Church and gradually reinstated as a place of worship.
The Lutheran cathedral in Riga, first seen from the viewing platform at St Peter’s Church, then from the square in front, and finally in a close-up of its façade. Capturing it on camera proved difficult, as the building is tucked away among narrow streets.
As you continue exploring the streets of Riga, you’ll notice that the spirit of its historic past lingers well beyond the major landmarks. Many smaller buildings, side streets and architectural details still echo the city’s former grandeur – even if their façades have been altered or rebuilt in later centuries. The layers of time are visible everywhere, and even outside the main tourist routes, the Old Town reveals corners that speak of Riga’s medieval and early modern identity. Below are a few more impressions from the very centre of the historical city.
A few more glimpses from the heart of Riga’s historical centre. As one might expect given the city’s layered past, a blend of architectural styles is clearly visible.
If we cross to the other side of the historic Old Town, moving away from the Daugava River and heading northeast from Town Hall Square, the cobbled lanes begin to open up, and the dense architecture gives way to greenery. Eventually, we reach a more spacious area where the old town begins to taper off, and in front of us appears a park. This is Bastejkalns Park – a narrow strip of greenery that follows the city canal, a quiet place filled with footbridges, benches, and low trees. Despite its central location, the atmosphere here is calm, almost intimate. It’s clearly a space not just for tourists, but also for locals – some strolling, others reading on benches, while a few simply pass through on their way home or to work.
At the edge of this park stands the Freedom Monument, impossible to miss – a tall, slender obelisk. Unveiled in 1935, the monument commemorates the soldiers who died in the Latvian War of Independence, fought between 1918 and 1920. It was a turbulent time, as the newly declared Latvian republic defended its sovereignty first against the Red Army, and later against German paramilitary formations operating in the region. After several key battles – including those at Riga and Cēsis – Latvia succeeded in securing its independence and signed a peace treaty with Soviet Russia. During the Soviet occupation, the monument became a quiet site of resistance – despite restrictions, people would still lay flowers at its base, often under the cover of darkness. Today, it remains the setting for national ceremonies, parades, the daily changing of the Honour Guard, and moments of quiet reflection.
The monument, designed by sculptor Kārlis Zāle is a carefully composed narrative in stone and bronze. At its base are sculptural groups depicting scenes from Latvian history – peasants at work, Latvian riflemen, allegories of sacrifice and spiritual freedom, and a grieving mother. In total, the monument features 13 sculptural groups and 56 individual figures, symbolising both the past and the ideals on which the Latvian state was built. At the very top stands the female figure known affectionately as Milda, holding aloft three golden stars representing Latvia’s historic regions: Kurzeme, Vidzeme, and Latgale.
Facing the monument, to your right, is a pale, elegant building – the Latvian National Opera. This neoclassical structure, built in the 19th century, is home to the country’s main opera and ballet stage and continues to serve its original cultural purpose. Designed by German architect Ludwig Bohnstedt, the building is known not only for its harmonious proportions but also for its excellent acoustics. On sunny days, you’ll often find people relaxing on the steps or nearby in the park – some awaiting a performance, others simply enjoying the atmosphere.
The Freedom Monument, and further on Bastejkalns Park, and the façade of the National Opera.
After a quiet moment by the National Opera, it’s worth turning and continuing along Brīvības iela, heading northeast. This is the main thoroughfare that connects the Old Town with the more modern parts of the city. As we walk, we pass through Esplanāde Park – a well-maintained green space with broad paths and sculptures, offering a welcome contrast to the cobbled streets and close architecture of the old centre. The route is straightforward – just keep going, and soon the first hints of Art Nouveau architecture begin to appear on the horizon.
After about fifteen to twenty minutes on foot, we arrive in the heart of Riga’s Art Nouveau District. This part of the city is renowned for its exceptional collection of turn-of-the-century buildings – especially along Alberta iela and Elizabetes iela, where ornate facades, sculptural details and decorative flourishes catch the eye at every step.
I’ve already written extensively about this district in a separate post – where you’ll find background on the architecture, historical context, and a guide to the most noteworthy buildings. You’ll find the link to that post below, after the photo gallery.
The Art Nouveau District in Riga, developed mainly in the early 20th century, reflects the city’s rapid economic growth at the time. Many of the buildings were constructed between 1899 and 1914, showcasing elaborate facades, flowing forms, and ornate decorative detail characteristic of the style.
It’s difficult to capture Riga in a single post – a city so rich in history, architecture and symbolism. In this piece, I’ve taken you on a walk through time – from the city’s Hanseatic roots and Lutheran heritage to the powerful symbolism of the Freedom Monument.
Along the way, I’ve left out a few prominent sites – not because they aren’t worth seeing, but because they didn’t quite belong to the route I followed. One of them is Riga Castle, the city’s historic fortress on the banks of the Daugava. On each of my visits, it’s been under renovation – inaccessible and wrapped in scaffolding, impossible to photograph. Another is the Nativity of Christ Orthodox Cathedral, whose golden domes rise above Esplanāde Park. Majestic and unmistakable, it represents a very different strand of the city’s spiritual and architectural heritage – one that stands apart from the Lutheran skyline of the Old Town, yet very much belongs to Riga’s layered identity. And then there’s the striking Latvian Academy of Sciences – a towering Soviet-era structure built in the 1950s. With its heavy, symmetrical design and sharp verticals, it stands as a clear expression of Socialist Realist architecture. Locals refer to it with a mix of irony and familiarity, and it remains one of the most recognisable silhouettes on the city’s skyline. Today, it houses a scientific institution and offers a viewing platform from its upper floors – a vantage point that looks out across the rooftops of the Old Town and beyond. For more photos, follow the link to my RIGA photo gallery.
The Colosseum in Rome, also known as the Flavian Amphitheatre, is one of the most iconic structures of the ancient world. Built where Nero’s private gardens once stood, it became a vast public arena for gladiator fights, animal hunts and executions. Over the centuries it was reused, stripped for materials, reimagined as a Christian site, and eventually protected as a historical monument. This post takes a closer look at how it was built, how it worked, and what happened to it after the fall of the Empire.
Colosseum in Rome | Colisée à Rome | Kolosseum in Rom | Coliseo en Roma | Koloseum w Rzymie | 罗马斗兽场 | ローマのコロッセオ | 로마 콜로세움
Today I’m writing about what is probably one of the most iconic ancient places in Europe. As strange as it may sound, I used to play among the ruins of Leptis Magna and Sabratha when I was a child, and ever since then, visiting historical places has really stayed with me. But when I finally stepped inside – on one of my many trips to Rome – walked through the passage under the arches and looked up, I actually got goosebumps.
The Colosseum in Rome, also known as the Flavian Amphitheatre (Amphitheatrum Flavium), is one of the most recognisable monuments of the ancient world and a lasting symbol of the power of Rome and the Roman Empire. From antiquity to the present day, it has survived in surprisingly good condition for its age – standing as a reminder not only of Roman engineering skill, but also of how power could be exercised through public entertainment.
Historical Context
Construction of the Colosseum began around AD 72, during the reign of Emperor Vespasian, the first ruler from the Flavian dynasty. He came to power after a series of violent assassinations and uprisings during the chaotic succession crisis that followed the death of Nero, who had been deeply unpopular with much of Roman society. Nero, the last emperor of the Julio-Claudian dynasty, ruled from AD 54 to 68 and is remembered as one of the most controversial leaders in Roman history. Though he started out with promise, he soon became a symbol of tyranny, driven by his artistic ambitions and obsession with control. His most notorious project was the Domus Aurea – the Golden House – a lavish palace built in the heart of Rome on land cleared by the great fire of AD 64. Whether he actually started the fire is still debated, but the image of an emperor playing the lyre while the city burned has remained firmly in the public imagination. Nero died by suicide in AD 68, leaving behind a city in turmoil and a legacy that later emperors were eager to leave behind.
In his efforts to restore authority and bring stability back to the empire, Vespasian made a number of decisions aimed at regaining the trust of Roman citizens. One of the most symbolic was the decision to build a massive public amphitheatre on the site of a former artificial lake that had been part of Nero’s Domus Aurea. This move carried strong propaganda value. Where once there had been a private garden of imperial luxury and excess, there was now to be an open space for public entertainment. Vespasian quite literally took the land back from Nero’s hated palace and handed it over to the people of Rome.
Vespasian died before the Colosseum was completed, and it was his son Titus who saw the project through to the end. Tens of thousands of people took part in the opening celebrations, which lasted an impressive 100 days. During that time, the public enjoyed gladiator fights, displays of wild animals, and staged battle re-enactments.
The Colosseum in Rome was mainly used for gladiator fights and wild animal shows, but also for public executions. In its early years, around AD 80–90, it is thought – though not historically confirmed – that it may have also hosted mock naval battles. At that time, the arena had no underground structures, which meant it could be flooded relatively easily with water.
The Building
The Colosseum in Rome was built in an elliptical shape, measuring about 189 metres long and 156 metres wide. The outer façade rose to a height of 48 metres. Its four storeys of arcaded walls were supported by a system of arches and pillars. The structure was made using stone, brick and concrete – materials that, in Roman times, represented the height of engineering and construction technology. The outer walls were built from large blocks of travertine, held together with iron clamps and lime mortar. The interior was filled with lighter materials: brick and what we now call Roman concrete (opus caementicium) – a mix of lime, water and volcanic ash (pozzolana), which made the structure remarkably strong and resistant to moisture. Thanks to this, the Colosseum has survived earthquakes, fires and nearly two thousand years of erosion. The use of arches and vaults helped to evenly distribute the weight of the building, allowing the Romans to create something spacious and monumental without needing internal supports.
The interior of the amphitheatre consisted of the arena, the seating area, and a complex underground system known as the hypogeum.
The arena of the Colosseum was the heart of the whole structure – an elliptical, flat surface measuring about 87 by 55 metres, covered in sand (called harena, which is where the word arena comes from). The sand was used to soak up blood and make it easier for fighters to move. Underneath was the hypogeum, now exposed but once hidden beneath a wooden platform. This surface was often decorated with artificial trees, rocks, columns or ruins to create the right setting for the shows. For specific events, the look of the arena could be completely changed overnight, which shows how efficient and well-organised the technical and backstage teams must have been.
Surrounding the arena was the seating area, or cavea, which could hold between 50 and 60 thousand spectators. The seats were arranged in tiered levels, reflecting the strict social hierarchy of ancient Rome. Closest to the arena were the boxes reserved for senators and elites, who sat on marble benches with their names engraved. Behind them sat the equites, a wealthy social class just below the senators, and above them, the ordinary citizens. The top tier was set aside for women, slaves and the poor. Each section had its own entrances and corridors – called vomitoria – which allowed tens of thousands of people to enter and exit the amphitheatre within minutes. The seating was designed with impressive acoustic and visual precision, so that every spectator, no matter where they sat, could clearly see and hear what was happening in the arena.
The two-level hypogeum was added to the Colosseum during the reign of Emperor Domitian – the same one the Senate later tried to erase from memory for his tyranny. It served as the technical and logistical backstage for organising the shows. The underground area included corridors, holding cells for gladiators, enclosures for wild animals, storage rooms, workshops, and a system of lifts and ramps that allowed for fast and dramatic entrances onto the arena floor. The hypogeum stretched beneath the entire arena and included around 30 lifts, operated manually by teams of workers and slaves using a complex system of pulleys, ropes and counterweights. These lifts connected to trapdoors or cunei which could suddenly open at arena level, allowing animals or fighters to appear in a striking and theatrical way.
Above the entire amphitheatre stretched a massive sail-like canopy known as the velarium, which provided shade for the audience on sunny days. It was operated by sailors from the Roman navy, who used a complex system of ropes and rigging anchored to the outer pillars of the building.
Gladiator Fights
Gladiators were among the most recognisable figures of ancient Rome, and their presence in the arena was central to the spectacular shows staged for the crowds. Although often associated with violence and blood, they were also highly trained fighters whose lives were shaped by discipline and combat. They were not ordinary soldiers or random slaves – they were people who spent months, sometimes years, in training, living under strict rules imposed by the owners of gladiator schools.
Most gladiators were slaves, either sold into combat or captured and then placed in special training centres known as ludi. There, under the guidance of experienced instructors – often former gladiators themselves – they learned fighting techniques, how to handle different weapons, and how to behave in the arena. Their goal wasn’t just to survive, but to put on a show, gain the crowd’s approval, and increase their value. But not all gladiators were slaves. Some were free men who volunteered. Their reasons varied – fame, debt, desperation, or even fascination with the life of a fighter. These volunteers signed contracts in which they gave up their citizen rights for the duration of their service, becoming the legal property of the training school’s owner.
Gladiator fights followed strict rules. Opponents were not paired at random – different fighting styles and weapons were matched to create a show full of tension and drama. For example, a lightly armed and fast fighter with a trident and net might face a heavily armoured opponent with a large shield and sword. Their clashes were almost like theatrical duels, where not just strength and technique, but also strategy and an understanding of the opponent’s weaknesses, played a key role. Gladiators were categorised by their weapons and fighting style, and each type had its own name, equipment and way of moving in combat.
Although the fights were brutal and carried a real risk of death, they didn’t always end with one of the fighters being killed. Gladiators were expensive to train and maintain, so organisers were reluctant to let them die without a clear reason. Often, the decision about a defeated fighter’s fate was made by the person in charge of the show, based on the crowd’s reaction, how the fight went, or even financial concerns. A loser who fought bravely and with honour could be spared and sent back to training. Gladiators who became popular could enjoy a level of fame – they were tattooed, painted on pottery, mentioned in inscriptions, and sometimes treated like celebrities. In some cases, they even gained their freedom after many victories, or by receiving a symbolic wooden sword called a rudis, which marked the end of their service.
Public Executions
Public executions were a regular part of the games held at the Colosseum in Rome, although they were often overshadowed by the more spectacular gladiator fights or animal shows. But these executions were not only about punishment. They were also seen as a form of entertainment, often staged in a theatrical way that combined death with performance. The brutality of these executions was not accidental – it was meant to show the power of the state and the strictness of Roman law towards those who broke it. At the same time, it reinforced the idea of Roman order, where punishment was quick, unavoidable, and made into a spectacle.
Those most often sentenced were common criminals, slaves, and prisoners of war – especially those not considered worthy of fighting as gladiators. One of the most brutal and humiliating forms of execution was damnatio ad bestias, or condemnation to the beasts – the victim was sent out, unarmed, into the arena where lions, tigers, leopards or bears were waiting. Sometimes, to make the scene more dramatic, the condemned were dressed up or the execution was staged to imitate mythological stories. In such cases, death became a performance – someone might be made to play Orpheus, torn apart by wild animals, or Icarus, falling from the sky, only to die for real.
Another method of execution was beheading, crucifixion, or burning alive. These forms were less theatrical, so they usually took place outside the Colosseum in Rome, but during larger celebrations they were sometimes included in the arena programme. Some games also featured mass executions -especially after wars or uprisings – as a show of power aimed at rebels or conquered peoples. On some occasions, thousands of people were killed in a single day.
From the Middle Ages onwards – and especially during the Baroque period – Christian tradition began to associate the Colosseum with the martyrdom of the early followers of Christ. Stories started to circulate about Christians being thrown to the lions right there. By the 19th century, the Colosseum had become a symbol of Christian suffering, particularly for the Catholic Church. Popes began holding Stations of the Cross there, and in 1749, Pope Benedict XIV consecrated the site by placing a cross in the centre of the arena. This Christian narrative carries religious and cultural meaning, even though it doesn’t fully align with historical evidence. Today, most historians agree that Christians may have been executed in the Colosseum in Rome, but there is no proof that it was a place specifically used for their persecution, or that mass, systematic executions of Christians happened there.
After the Fall of the Empire
After the fall of the Western Roman Empire in 476 AD, the Colosseum gradually stopped serving its original purpose and began to fall into ruin. Parts of the structure collapsed during earthquakes -especially in 847 and 1349 – and over the centuries, stone from its walls was taken for use in other buildings across Rome. Still, despite the damage, the Colosseum was never completely abandoned. In fact, over time it was given new roles. As early as the early Middle Ages, it was used as living space, workshops, and even for religious purposes.
Small chapels and even tiny churches were built inside the Colosseum in Rome. In the 11th century, a chapel dedicated to Saint Mary of the Martyrs was built within the structure. It was linked to the memory of Christian martyrs, although as said before there is no clear historical evidence to confirm that connection. In the 15th century, more chapels appeared, often sponsored by craft guilds and religious brotherhoods. One of them was built by the Archconfraternity of the Holy Cross, which held prayers and penitential processions inside the Colosseum. In the 18th century, a cross was placed inside the arena, and a Way of the Cross was created – some of its stations still survive today as part of the site’s religious symbolism.
It wasn’t until the Renaissance that people began to recognise the historical and artistic value of the Colosseum in Rome as a relic of ancient times. Artists, scholars, and architects started to see the ruins not just as a convenient source of stone, but as a reminder of Rome’s former glory. Still, for a long time, dismantling the structure remained common practice – huge travertine blocks from the Colosseum were used in the construction of Renaissance palaces and churches, including the Palazzo Venezia and St Peter’s Basilica. Even in the 16th century, popes – though increasingly aware of its symbolic meaning – still allowed it to be used as a quarry. This attitude began to change gradually, as interest in antiquity grew and historical and archaeological studies developed. In the 18th century, Pope Benedict XIV declared the Colosseum a place of Christian martyrdom and consecrated it by placing a cross inside. From then on, the building was treated as sacred ground, which helped protect it from further destruction.
In the 19th century, with the rise of modern archaeology, the Colosseum became the focus of serious scientific study. Archaeologists, architects, and engineers began systematic measurements, excavations, and restoration work. Rubble was cleared, damaged walls were stabilised, and the underground structures were documented and analysed. This period saw the creation of the first modern records of the Colosseum as a site of cultural heritage. Even today, the Colosseum still holds many secrets. The hypogeum, the network of underground passages, had been buried and inaccessible for centuries. Thanks to modern technologies such as laser scanning and 3D photogrammetry, archaeologists are now uncovering new details about how shows were organised and how the arena functioned behind the scenes. Ongoing research is also revealing fragments of wall paintings, inscriptions, and graffiti, which help us understand the everyday life of the people who worked there. Some elements, like the elevators or water systems, still aren’t fully understood, leaving room for further discovery and interpretation.
Colosseum in Pictures
Today, the Colosseum in Rome is one of the most visited landmarks in Italy, attracting millions of tourists each year. It’s also one of the most important UNESCO World Heritage Sites. At the same time, it remains a focus of ongoing conservation and restoration efforts, aimed at protecting it from further damage. The Colosseum still plays a role in cultural and religious life. Every Good Friday, the Pope leads the Stations of the Cross here, turning the ancient arena into a place of reflection and ceremony. For centuries, the site has also inspired artists, writers, and filmmakers. It features in classic films such as Quo Vadis?, Ben-Hur, and Gladiator, which helped shape its image as a place of epic battles and sacrifice. In literature and popular culture, it often appears as a symbol of both Roman glory and cruelty.
