Rome
WITH pen in hand one approaches the subject of the Eternal City with great diffidence. The more one’s acquaintance with her has ripened, the more does the attempt to write a chapter seem a hopeless task. There are so many Romes—Republican Rome, Imperial Rome, Rome of the Papal supremacy, Christian Rome, Pagan Rome; and then Modern Rome, with a municipality that is fast changing the face of everything. Catering for the tourist in these days of cheap transit does much to alter things. In the end it will defeat its own object, and history will be contained in libraries and museums only. Rome, like London, is fast becoming cosmopolitan. The perícolo giallo, or “yellow peril,” as the motor post ’bus is facetiously called, rushes through streets where not so long ago solemn processions of the Mother Church wended their way. Building is going on at present with feverish haste. The “boom” of 1880, which ruined many of the wealthy families who speculated in it, does not seem to have acted as a deterrent to others. The great boulevard projected by the powers that be, slowly grows in length. Despite the outcry against such vandalism, an area that might disclose and yield up unknown archæological treasures if properly excavated is being levelled in the sacred names of sanitation and opportunism! The picturesque dwellings that lined the banks of Rome’s famous river have disappeared, and the yellow waters of the historic Tiber rush along between massive walls of stone.
Is it possible amid all these rapid changes to realise what Rome has been and is still? No, not on any of her seven hills, not in her streets, nor on her river embankments, not even in her churches, can this now be done. No: to realise the power and majesty of Ancient Rome one must go out into the Campagna, that desolate plain in which she lies. There, where the stupendous ruins of her great aqueducts stretch away in utter loneliness to the distant hills; there, where once a prosperous people dwelt in plenty, and where the only living things likely to be seen now are a statuesque goatherd and his nibbling flock—there, one may gather an idea of the might of ancient Rome. By Hadrian’s Wall, which cuts the Borderland of England, one may do the same; and there are none of her ruined outposts, east or west, where her majesty is not more apparent than in the Eternal City herself.
Up on the Palatine, close to the trees that are seen in the sketch of the Clovis Victoriæ, the Etruscan wall of the first Rome is now in course of excavation. Up there, too, are the remains of the first wall of the Roman city built by Servius Tullius. In the Via Merulana part of a great earthwork with a moat outside can still be seen. Long after Carthage had been practically obliterated by her rival, Rome had extended so far, and attacks from outside became of so great a danger to the inhabitants, that Aurelian found it necessary to build a line of defence which the present walls might be said to occupy. From that time onwards the city grew steadily to a magnificence and power which has never been equalled. She ruled the known world. But it was not until Constantine the Great transferred himself and the seat of empire to Byzantium that the turning-point in her fortunes was reached. Well has the great emperor earned that proud title! From Milan he issued the decree which gave to the much persecuted Christians equal rights with other religions; and even went further, embracing the faith he had befriended.
Many churches lay claim to be the oldest foundation in Rome. S. Pudenziana is said to be the church S. Paul founded in the house of his Senator friend Pudens. Recent excavations under S. Clemente have brought to light early-Christian masonry beneath the Republican and Imperial remains, over which the present edifice stands. S. Prisca is another ancient church; and tradition attributes S. Giovanni in Laterano, S. Pietro, S. Paolo, S. Lorenzo, S. Croce in Gerusalemene, S. Agnese, and SS. Pietro e Marcellino to Constantine’s era. The first four of these, with S. Maria Maggiore, were afterwards known as the Patriarchal Churches over which the Pope presided. With S. Croce and S. Sebastiano, they became the seven churches of Rome. In them the Pontiff celebrated High Mass; and they were the principal churches which drew pilgrims from throughout Christendom. In these seven the high altar presents its back to the congregation, for His Holiness celebrates Mass with his face to the worshippers. The Papal supremacy really owed its foundation to Gregory the Great. But it was not until two hundred years after his decease, when on Christmas Day of the year 800, Charlemagne was crowned by Leo III., that the “Holy Roman Empire” became an accomplished fact. Unfortunately for Ancient Rome the Carlovingian period was one of demolition and plunder. Christian zeal cared nought for the beauty of pagan buildings, and many an one was pulled down and a church erected with the material. It was later on however, in the time of the Renaissance, that columns and marble of every sort were used for the adornment of the numerous sacred edifices which sprang up. What was not wanted in construction was ground down to make lime. Banding iron, clamps, bronzes, and every description of metal that was found were thrown into furnaces and melted down. Nothing that could be made use of for building material was spared. The Church could never forget the persecution she had undergone, nor the thousands of martyrs who had died for the Faith. Is it a matter for surprise then—a surprise one must add mingled with great regret—that the glorious buildings of ancient Rome have almost disappeared?
Whichever of all Rome’s churches was founded first, there is no disputing the fact that the huge fabric which occupies one side of the Piazza di S. Pietro is the most famous Christian edifice in the world. Bernini’s best work, the grand colonnades on two sides of the square lead up in splendid curves to the great façade of S. Peter’s. But, so great is the size of the building, so far set back the dome, that it is impossible to realise the immensity of either from any point of view in the piazza. The first church was founded in the year 90 at the place where so many martyrs had suffered death during the time of the tyrant Nero. The Emperor Constantine commenced afterwards the erection of a basilica on this spot, the façade of which Raphael has handed down in his fresco of the Incendio del Borgo. When Julian della Rovere became Pope Julius II., he wantonly ordered the destruction of the church as it then stood. This was done to make way for a greater with which his own name would be for ever connected; and he employed Bramante to design the new cathedral. Hands once more were laid on the buildings of ancient Rome and the construction was begun from its ruins. Except for some of the columns, the whole of the marble work of S. Peter’s was, up to the commencement of last century, abstracted from the same source. Bramante’s designs were never carried out. The many alterations to which they were subjected after his death led to great dissatisfaction, and in the end Michael Angelo was consulted. All he could do was to reserve as much as possible of the great architect’s ground plan, and this is, except for the lengthening of the nave and the addition of the façade, as the great cathedral stands to-day.
The immense travertine columns of the façade form part of a portico which is over two hundred feet in length. Above the columns runs an inscription recording that it was put up by the Borghese Pontiff, Paul V. A balustrade, broken by pedestals, surmounts the cymatium; on the pedestals are extra-colossal figures of the Saviour (in the centre) and the Twelve Apostles. At either end are groups of barroque angels surrounding a circle over which is the Papal Mitre. In one of these circles there is a timepiece. The ceiling of the portico is a fine example of stucco work.
There are five doors which open into the building. The central is of bronze and one of the few things spared by the destroyer Julius when he demolished the old basilica. The doors next to this are those by which one enters the church. In March 1910 the old and very unhygienic leather flaps were removed, and glazed swing-doors have taken their place. The Porta Santa, or door at the north end of the portico, is walled up. It was only opened for the purpose of celebrating a Jubilee, and has been closed since 1825.
Many and repeated visits are necessary to S. Peter’s before the size of the vast interior can be in any way grasped. It is only when one is accustomed to the scale of the little human figures walking about and their insignificance in proportion to the whole, that the immense height of even the Corinthian pilasters of the piers becomes apparent. The roof is vaulted, coffered and gilded. It is supported by four piers on each side of the nave. The floor is of coloured marble, and has the measurements of the great churches of Christendom let in with brass at the spot where each would end if measured from the east. Just inside the central bronze door is a slab of porphyry upon which the emperors were crowned. At the base of each pier, as well as in other parts of the church, the colossal statues of the founders of different religious Orders find a place. The last pier on the right has a bronze figure of S. Peter seated, one foot of which is partially worn away by the lips of devotees.
The dome grows upwards from four massive buttresses. Niches above their bases contain figures of SS. Longinus, Andrew, Helena, and Veronica, who holds the napkin with the impress of the Saviour’s Face. Under the dome is the Confessio of S. Peter, to reach which a double flight of steps leads down. Eighty-nine lamps for ever burn on the balustrade which encloses the well of the entrance; and doors of gilded bronze shut off the niche in which the sarcophagus of the Apostle rests. Soaring high up on four bronze columns ninety-four feet from the floor, the great baldacchino rises above all. But so immense is the space under the dome that one has no idea of the height it attains. It was designed by Bernini, and is made partly of the bronze which covered the roof of the Pantheon.
Nothing at all can be said in praise of Bernini’s design. The high altar, at which only the Pope celebrates mass, is above the Confessio and directly under the cross which forms the apex of this somewhat unsightly mass of metal. The interior decoration of the dome is not in any way striking. Above the four statues of the already enumerated saints are the loggie, containing the sacred relics of the lance which pierced the crucified Saviour’s side, the head of S. Andrew, a portion of the Cross, and the “Volto-Santo”—the napkin or handkerchief of S. Veronica, which wiped the Lord’s brow on the way to Calvary. Four mosaics of the Evangelists are beneath the frieze which carries the drum of the dome; and a series of four each are between the sixteen gilded ribs of the vaulting. In the tribune at the east end of the cathedral is the ancient wooden episcopal chair of S. Peter.
Amongst other celebrated things which S. Peter’s contains is the Pietà of Michael Angelo in the Capella della Pietà. The great sculptor has inscribed his name on the girdle of the Virgin—the only occasion on which he has done so. Opening out from this chapel is another, in which is a column, said to be that against which Christ leaned when preaching in the Temple at Jerusalem. Adjacent to this is the tomb of the great Countess Matilda by Bernini. The tombs and monuments of many Popes are to be found in other chapels, but none of them possess any real artistic merit. The best is that of Alessandro Farnese, Pope Paul III. It is by Guglielmo della Porta, and was one of the most expensive to erect. In the crypt, which is divided into two parts, the Grotte Vecchie, and the Grotto Nuovo, are the sarcophagi and fragments of sarcophagi of many other Popes, among them being that of Nicholas Breakspeare, the only Englishman who ever attained the dignity. The sarcophagus of S. Peter, already mentioned, is in the Confessio, or shrine of SS. Peter and Paul, which is richly ornamented with gold and studded with jewels.
In the Stanza Capitolare, which is part of the sacristy, are some remnants from the brush of Giotto that at one time adorned the walls of the old Confessio. The treasury contains a wonderful collection of jewelled crucifixes and candelabra. Among the latter is to be found the work of Cellini and Michael Angelo. The famous sacerdotal robe known as the Dalmatica di Papa San Leone, and said to be that used at the coronation of Charlemagne, is also kept here. Apart from its sacred interest, the great cathedral of S. Peter’s cannot be said to raise any feelings other than wonderment at its size and admiration for its grand proportions. The exterior is disappointing, and many and many a visit must be paid to the interior before wonderment reaches admiration. Just as it is possible to gain the best impression of the power of ancient Rome outside Rome itself, so does one grasp the size of the mighty fabric only when some miles away in the country beyond the walls. Climb the lower slopes of the hills near Tivoli or Frascati, and what does one see? Apparently a level plain, out of which rises far away a marvellous dome. From Tivoli, especially, one sees nothing of the city on the Seven Hills. The line of fir-trees beyond Monte Mario is visible, and maybe, the afternoon sun shining on the distant Mediterranean. But save for the great dome there is nothing to indicate to the eye that the Eternal City lies well within the range of vision. Yet in Rome itself, though it is paradoxical to say so, the dome of S. Peter’s in no way dominates anything, albeit that it rises above everything else. The enormous monument in course of erection on the Capitoline appears bigger. Each of the seven hills seems to be of greater altitude. But the former is not so large, and the latter do not reach the same height. Thus, the great church holds her own—but, physically as well as spiritually, one must go outside Rome to realise this.
To return to ancient times, we find an absorbingly interesting link with pre-Christian days sculptured on one of the panels which decorate the interior of the Arch of Titus. The Via Sacra passed under this arch, which was erected to commemorate the taking of Jerusalem. The panel in question has figured on it in bas-relief a procession bearing the seven-branched candlestick and tabernacle which were spoils from the Jewish Temple. This is the only known material proof existing of the former object, and may therefore be justly said to be of surpassing ecclesiastical interest. Through the archway one sees the half-ruined walls of the Colosseum, the greatest amphitheatre in the world. This, too, is of intense religious interest. In the arena hundreds of Christian martyrs were torn to pieces by wild beasts, or butchered to fill the passing hours with amusement for the Roman populace. Pope Benedict XIV. consecrated the interior after erecting gates outside to preserve it from the demolition which up to his day had been going on for centuries. Small chapels were also formed amongst the lower structural arches, and services held where once the walls resounded to the shouts of bloodthirsty spectators. Close by the Colosseum is another fine archway, the Arch of Constantine. This likewise, has an interest apart from its design. It was put up when the great emperor declared himself in favour of the Christian faith. The devout may ponder over the fact that these two arches, so closely connected with Christianity, are still standing, while nearly every other has long since been razed to the ground.
Away to the south-east of these three buildings the Mother Church of Rome is situated close to the city walls. Here, on rising ground, overlooking the vast Campagna, stands S. Giovanni in Laterano, “omnium urbis et orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput.” Dedicated originally to Christ the Saviour, and afterwards in the sixth century to S. John, this fine basilica is of much greater, archæological interest than S. Peter’s. The present building dates from the seventeenth century. All that remains of the once attached Benedictine monastery is to be found in the very beautiful cloisters, which are a transition between Romanesque and Gothic. The church itself has a fine eastern façade—it orientates to the west—of five arches with an intervening gallery. In the atrium is a statue of Constantine found in his Thermæ. The interior of the basilica is simple, with a very good opus Alexandrinum floor. The aisles are double, and are separated from the nave by eleven bays on each side. Colossal statues of Apostles and Prophets find places at the bases of the pillars. The transepts and tribune are raised above the body of the church. In the centre, the high altar is situated under an ornate Gothic canopy. This contains a tabernacle, erected partly at the expense of Charles V. of France, to receive the busts of SS. Peter and Paul which were found amidst the ruins of the older church. A few years ago the tribune was extended and beautifully inlaid with mosaic carrying out a design of the thirteenth century. Michael Angelo is said to have designed the flat ceiling of the nave, and there is a wooden figure of S. John by Donatello in the sacristy.
In the Piazza di S. Giovanni in Laterano stands a building that contains the Scala Santa, a flight of steps from Pilate’s palace in Jerusalem, which Christ is said to have ascended. They are covered with wood, and may only be ascended on the knees. Light enters through barred windows, and partly illumines the solemn gloom of this deeply interesting place. At the top of the stairs is the Sancta Sanctorum, on the architrave above which is engraved in Latin: “There is not a place in the whole world more holy.” This was the old chapel of the Popes and the only part of the Pontifical palace that the fire of 1308 did not consume. The present Palazzo del Laterano was built on part of the site of that which this fire destroyed. The old palace was the residence of the Popes from the time of Constantine until their migration to Avignon. The building that now enjoys the above title is a museum, wherein are many fine pieces of pagan sculpture as well as other interesting antiquities. The baptistery of the Lateran stands to the west of the basilica. The interior of this octagonal building is simple but not well lighted. Eight porphyry columns support an antique architrave; and eight smaller columns of marble rise from this and support the dome. The font is in the centre of the floor, which is lower than the pavement near the walls. It is of green basalt, and is supposed to be that in which the Anglo-Saxon king Caedwalla was baptised in the year 689. Rienzi bathed in it the night before he summoned the Pope and the Electors of Germany to appear before him for judgment.
Another and more magnificent basilica is that of S. Paolo fuori, which is situated two miles out of Rome on the Via Ostia. It is the grandest of the many basilicas Rome possesses. Constantine erected a tropæum, or sepulchral monument over the spot where Lucina buried the apostle’s body; and in 386 the Consul Sallustrius by the Emperor’s order began to build the church, which was known as the Basilica Ostiensis. The little town that arose around this sacred spot was on the banks of the Tiber, and from its position was subject to raids from the Saracens and other marauders who sailed up the stream. John VIII. in the ninth century enclosed the basilica and most of the surrounding buildings within a fortified wall. For fifteen hundred years this grand church has had as venerated a shrine as S. Peter’s. The kings of England were its protectors until the Reformation severed their connection with the Roman creed; and sovereigns from all parts of Christendom came here to worship. On July 17, 1823, the pine roof caught fire and fell into the nave. The heat from the smouldering mass was so great that some of the columns split and the whole fabric was almost entirely destroyed. Pius IX. presided at a great function in 1854, when prelates from all over the world assisted at the consecration of the restored building. Eighty monoliths of Simplon granite, brought down Lake Maggiore to the river Po and then by sea up the Tiber, sustain the roof of the nave and aisles. A series of Papal portraits form a frieze above them. Magnificent columns of Egyptian alabaster presented by Mehemet Ali, Viceroy of Egypt, support the baldacchino over the high altar. The bases of these columns are malachite, and were given by the Czar Nicholas of Russia. Many other portions of this noble church were given by other princes. The dismay and regret at its destruction were universal. The body of S. Paul rests in the Confessio beneath the altar. The very beautiful cloisters of the old Benedictine monastery, now a barrack, vie with those at Monreale in Sicily, which are illustrated in another chapter. The noble atrium at the west end of the basilica is almost complete, and when it is finished and opened out to the river, S. Paolo fuori will once more take rank as one of the grandest ecclesiastical edifices in Italy. Among the other basilicas of Rome, S. Maria Maggiore, or the Basilica Liberiana, is the largest, and commands a fine position on the Esquiline. S. Sabina on the Aventine, that hill which is still almost entirely covered by gardens, is connected with the Dominican monastery that adjoins it. The church possesses a wonderfully carved wooden door and an orange tree in its court which grew from an orange pip that S. Dominic planted. S. Agnese fuori is close to one of the entrances to the numerous catacombs. Into this church every twenty-first day of January two lambs are brought to be blessed. After the ceremony is over they are presented to his holiness at the Vatican, and then sent to the convent of S. Cecilia-Trastevere. Here the good nuns weave their wool into palliums, which are subsequently worn by different metropolitans of the church.
The only Gothic church in Rome is that of S. Maria sopra Minerva. It contains the tomb-slab of Fra Angelico, whose face, rendered in marble, has a very sad and rather austere look. The interior of the church is marble, and it cannot be said that this polished shining surface is desirable for the lines of a Gothic building. Not far from S. Maria is the most perfect pagan edifice in all Rome—the Pantheon. Here again we have a heathen fabric that afterwards became a Christian church. Boniface IV. consecrated the temple, that Marcus Agrippa had built more than six hundred years previously, to S. Maria ad Martyres. Sixteen huge columns of oriental granite form the portico, and the ancient bronze doors still remain. The interior is a magnificent rotunda lighted by a circular aperture in the centre of the coffered dome. Against the walls, in recesses, rest the sarcophagi of Raphael and other painters. Here too, sleeping his last long sleep, lies King Victor Emmanuel II., to whom all Italians owe so much.
The church best known to foreigners is undoubtedly that which figures in the illustration, S. Trinità de’ Monti. There is nothing about the church itself to call for comment; but its fine position, above the beautifully arranged steps, in the middle of what may be called the “foreign quarter,” makes it worthy of note. Close by is the Villa Medici, the French Academy of Rome. At the base of the steps is the flower market. Until recently Italians had a great objection to cut flowers in their rooms—they were supposed to be unhealthy. Through foreign influence this is slowly giving way, and the market is as much patronised by the Romans as by the residents of other nationalities. Not many years ago the foot of these steps used to be thronged every morning by artists’ models, who, in the picturesque garb of their native districts, sat here waiting for a day’s hire. The few who still do this have moved off to the steps of the Greek church in the Via del Babuino, and the flavour of the Campagna and the mountains they gave to the Piazza di Spagna is now a thing of the past. Everything changes, everything passes away. The gaily coloured costumes of the ciociare, the peasants from the districts between Rome and Naples—so-called from the cioce or sandal they wear—is now never seen. The exaggerated dress of the flower sellers, who pester the foreigner to buy little faded nosegays, is simply worn for the purpose of extracting soldi and as a subterfuge for begging. Away up in the mountains beyond Tivoli are two villages, Saracenesco and Articoli. Though they are adjacent the dialect of the inhabitants is different. There is a deadly feud between them. They both provide the artist in Rome with models. Those who come from the last named pose for the figure, but those from Sarecenesco will only sit draped. They still provide the wet-nurses for Roman babies; for the physique of these Sabine villagers is very fine, as fine perhaps as in the days when the Sabine women were carried off by Roman youths.
Beyond the Villa Medici lie the beautiful gardens of the Pincio. From the terrace at the end, on the brow of the hill, one gets the famous view of Rome. The shady walks and well-kept drives of these noted gardens, and those of the adjoining Villa Borghese, are the favourite rendezvous in the evening for Roman society. We must leave this beautiful pleasaunce and dive down into the labyrinth of streets below. Nothing probably strikes one so much on a first visit to the Eternal City as the number of fountains and obelisks that are to be found in whichever direction a morning’s walk takes one. Rome is the best supplied of any capital in the world with water, and though she has not the thirteen thousand odd fountains recorded by Cardinal Mai in the year 1540, those that remain still flow unceasingly. The Aqua Virgo brought into Rome by Agrippa to supply his thermæ at the back of the Pantheon rushes a never-failing supply into the huge Fontana di Trevi. One may sometimes see a Roman of the poorer class drinking furtively from the basin into which the water runs, drinking because he is leaving his native city and wishes to assure a safe return. The Fontana del Tritone is formed by dolphins, whose tails meet to support the coat-of-arms of the Barberini—the fine Palazzo Barberini is close by—and is surmounted by a Triton holding a conch shell to his mouth. In quite another district, down by the river hidden away amidst the narrow streets of the Ghetto, is the little Piazza Tartaruga. In the middle of this charming little square stands the Fontana delle Tartaruga. The design of this beautiful “Fountain of the Tortoises” has been attributed to Raphael. It is certainly worthy of his great name. The bronze figures of the four youths supporting the basin of the fountain are exceptionally good. With one hand each grasps the tail of a dolphin, the other is raised above their heads to assist the struggles of the little bronze tortoises that are endeavouring to crawl over the slippery wet lip of the bowl. The Fontana La Barcassia, in the Piazza di Spagna, a corner of which is seen in the sketch of S. Trinità de’ Monti, is no doubt better known than the last named, but there is no public fountain in Rome that approaches in any way the artistic merit of “The Tortoises.”
It is but a step from this to the gloomy looking Palazzo Cenci, which recalls the tragedy of Beatrice of that name. Another pace further on and we find ourselves in a recently cleared space with the new Jewish Synagogue standing close to the river Embankment. Here was situated the old Ghetto of Rome, a quarter which is being fast demolished. One certainly cannot regret the disappearance of some of the abominable slums that not so long ago stood where the housebreaker’s pick and shovel have been at work. It was but a few yards from the synagogue that the sketch of the Isle of S. Bartholomew and the old Roman Pons Fabricius was made. S. Bartolommeo is the only island on the Tiber in its course through Rome; and the picturesque buildings of the old monastery are the only buildings left, which the yellow river washes, of all those that less than thirty years ago lined its banks. There is a different air about the Trastevere district across the water. It is another city altogether than the one left behind on the other bank. The foreigner is not so much in evidence, we are once again in Italy. Mount the steep ascent of the Janiculum, and from the wide space in front of the colossal equestrian statue of Garibaldi you will get a grand view of Rome, with the Campagna and Alban mountains beyond. From the top of the hill, as one turns northwards, we seem on a level with S. Peter’s great dome. One is puzzled once again, when remembering how it really towers above all, to find that it is not of much significance in the view. Nothing of course is seen of the Vatican, which is situated on the other side of S. Peter’s. In the illustration of the Cathedral, however, there is just visible the corner which adjoins it.
The Vatican is the largest Palace in the world and contains the vastest and most heterogeneous collection of all. It is quite impossible to enumerate a tenth of the treasures hidden behind its ochre-coloured walls. Neither can one enter here into any description of the Sistine chapel with Michael Angelo’s masterpiece, or Raphael’s magnificent frescoes in the Stanze and Loggie. We must pass over the famous picture gallery and the antiquities in the Museo Pio-Clementino and the Museo Chiaramonti, simply remarking that the Vatican Museums hold the finest collections in the world. There is one antique in the square outside which deserves a passing notice, and that is the great monolith of granite standing in the centre of the Piazza di S. Pietro. If Rome is a city of fountains, it is also a city of obelisks. This enormous block of stone was brought by Caligula from Heliopolis and placed in the circus of Nero, which occupied so much of the ground on which the great basilica was afterwards erected. Eight hundred men, besides many horses and over forty cranes, were requisitioned to elevate it in its present position. Turning away from the Vatican and diving into the squalid quarters of the Borgo, one comes on to the covered passage which John XXIII. commenced to build in order to afford a safe mode of retreat from the palace to the Castle of S. Angelo. The fortress of S. Angelo was erected by the Emperor Hadrian as his family tomb; and, as such, its exterior was perhaps decorated with statues. The Emperor died in his villa at Baiæ on the Bay of Naples, but his body was brought here, to be joined, as time went on, by the mortal remains of Marcus Aurelius, Caracalla, and others.
The history of the castle is the history of Rome in the Middle Ages. It has many times withstood a siege, and among other vicissitudes fell before the prowess of Totila and his Goths. The sarcophagus of its founder was used as the tomb for Innocent II., and its inverted lid now forms the font in the baptistery of S. Peter’s. The streets in the neighbourhood of the castle have undergone an absolute change. Wide thoroughfares and huge blocks of flats cover the ground that a few years ago was a huge slum. The new Courts of Justice face the river, and the embankment in front is now a fine boulevard. We cross the water once more, by the Ponte Margherita, the bridge which is highest up the Tiber, and find ourselves in that fine square the Piazza del Popolo. Above the beautiful terraces that form the precipitous slope of the Pincio, the trees that adorn the gardens stand out against the blue of the sky. At the foot of the terraces is the church of S. Maria del Popolo, erected on the site of the Domitii tombs, the ghost-haunted burial place of the cruel Nero. Adjoining the church is a grand gateway, the Porta del Popolo. Under its arches on the straight road that runs north, the Via Flaminia, marched out of Rome all those legions that went forth to conquer and to extend the bounds of an Empire that has seen no rival.