The Eternal City
Those who are
pessimistic about London’s part in the world in the aftermath of Brexit might be
cheered when they look at what happened to Rome after it lost its empires. When
I tramped recently the ancient, cobbled streets of Rome that have changed little
in hundreds of years, I reflect on the two empires that Rome lost; the Imperial
Empire of 27 BC to 337 AD and the Roman Catholic Church’s ‘empire’ of 590 AD to…
well, we can choose any number of dates: perhaps 1527, when Charles V sacked
Rome; or 1798 when Napoleon’s forces occupied the city. Consider too Rome’s
place in the world after the Second World War. Fought around by the Nazis and
Allied forces - but the former were plundering its art, whilst the latter were trying to avoid
destruction of its monuments as both sides had agreed to avoid bombing in the city - I sense in 1945 it’s precarious position in the
world was like that of Britain today, about to lose its second alignment to a great
political and economic power.
The ancient
Romans belief in their city surviving all other empires is how it earned its
nickname. They were a prescient people. Through all the sackings, attacks and
bombardments – as well as political corruption, near bankruptcy and civic
scandals of the latest century – Rome stands unbowed and proud of its pivotal
role in Western culture and civilisation.
The Stylish City.
Will the English
of today put the past behind them as the Romans did in 337 and 1798? My feeling
is they will find it difficult. Those earnest British folk who would have
today’s politicians and academics apologise for the wrongs of our forefathers
to the citizens of conquered countries in the British Empire might care to
consider how the Romans today view their invasion of Britain. Romans lose not a
moment’s sleep over how their ancestors behaved in Gaul. Are these people
apologetic for Julius Caesar, the conqueror of Britain in 55 BC; for the wrongs
they did to Britons; for enslaving citizens in both London and Rome? They are
not.
They are civil
and polite to the French and English today, proud and a little aloof. They are the
sort who “when it rains in Rome – and they happen to notice – blame it on Milan”.
Romans never have been a politically correct race. Above all, Romans put image
and style (but certainly not celebrity worship, that’s beneath them), at the
forefront of their art, their culture and their society. For them the most
important aspects to life are food, wine, football and fashion.
The survival and
health of great cities is dependent on its people; the figures that govern, live,
love, drink, make music and grow old in their beloved metropolis. Romans
welcome visitors to their city but are wary of tourists. When we stop to lunch
in a tiny side street cafe with my shamefully lacking Italian speech, (I make
an effort), the barista smiles and walks us to a table. He does not gush and
ask, “Where are you from?” They are proud of their city despite its current
scandals of corruption and lack of sound political leadership. For nearly two
thousand seven hundred years Rome has been at the centre of Western cultural
and political development. Despite its demise as a major power, tourists from
all over the world, including battalions of the newly enriched Chinese middle
class from the globe’s latest empire, descend on Rome every year. Is there any
other celebrated city that we would take seriously with a history that includes
a mythical beginning? Do you believe that Romulus, Rome’s founder, was suckled
with his brother Remus by a she-wolf?
My early schooling
taught me that civilisation commenced with Rome and the Roman Empire. It then
spread to France and across the Channel to Britain, to the United States and as
far as Australia. At the age of nine I began lessons in Latin. I did not start
with studying the language. Instead I learned about Julius Caesar, Hannibal,
Sulla and the battles at Cannae, Trasimene and in Gaul. I was hooked by the romance
of it all. Hannibal was my first schoolboy hero. Caesar a soldier/statesman I
admired even though he was not loved. Writers of fiction such as Rosemary
Sutcliffe brought the ancient world alive to me and in later years Robert Graves,
Robert Harris, Conn Iggulden, Lindsey Davies and Steven Saylor have done the
same. At the age of sixteen I discovered the poetry of John Keats and Lord
Byron – the latter born a couple of leagues from me in Nottinghamshire. These
Romantic poets together with Mary and Percy Bysshe Shelley were attracted to
Rome. Each achieved a glorious immortality from either dying here or penning
memorable words about the allure of Italy.
In a similar
manner to London ruling the British Empire in the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries Rome was a city-state that controlled for centuries lands and people
from Scotland to Africa. Figures who left an everlasting impression on this
landscape include the Roman Emperors Vespasian (69-79 AD) and Marcus Aurelius
(161-180). The former, not without a questionable military record that included
a ruthless streak, brought peace and stability to what was becoming a fractious
state. He reorganised the financial structure of Rome and ordered the
construction of one of the world’s most famous buildings, the Colosseum.
Millions of tourists flock in wonder to his legacy – and are fleeced by the
modern day ‘centurions’ who charge you for a selfie with them at your expense.
Marcus Aurelius to this day has consistently been credited with being a ‘good
Emperor’ whose book, Meditations, is
a classic text on Stoic thought. (So I am told as I have not read it but he was
a good man in the film Gladiator.) He
too brought stability to the Empire when others would seek to bring military
pressure on Italy.
The history of
Rome, like that of the country as a whole, is lacking stories of famous women.
There were distinguished women married to men of power but they often met
untimely ends or overreached themselves in attempts to grab more power. With
over forty emperors (male) followed by ninety-two popes (male) the time surely
has come when women break out from the cult of Roman machismo. In 2016, at the
thirty-fourth appointment of a mayor, Rome did elect Virginia Raggi as the first
female incumbent.
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| Tourists to the Pantheon |
The Resistant City
The charm of a
civilised urban society that is Rome is accentuated by the architecture. I don’t
see the ruins of the ancient Imperial city as a museum. When I walk amongst the
empty shops of Trajan’s Markets I can imagine the hubbub of the shopkeepers,
money dealers and Imperial informers, all striving to make a living off their
fellow Romans.
The cobbled Via Biberatica, built between AD 100 and 112, formed
the same function as Briggate
in Leeds. It was home to numerous commercial enterprises that provided
employment (and criminal opportunities) to thousands of Romans. My favourite
building in the city, the Pantheon, was completed in 125 AD and is artistic perfection
in simple design and splendour. Much later the Renaissance, with its wealth and
opulence, gave the city a significant boost in the building of palaces. Piazzas were formed and fountains burst
into life. The streets and structures of the city landscape that a visitor sees
today, perhaps with the exception of Vittoriano, are easy on the eye. There are
no ‘high rise’ tower blocks, no concrete and glass eyesores from the 1950s and
1960s. Classical and neoclassical buildings occupy adjacent plots and exude
style. Central Rome has resisted successfully the worst of twentieth century
construction design.
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| Via Biberatica |
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| St.Peters |
Whatever your
religious background it is impossible to deny the influence of the Roman
Catholic Church on the city and the wider world. The Vatican ruled Rome until
1870 when Royalist troops took over and completed the unification of Italy. The
Vatican became a separate state, independent from Italy, in 1929. To me the
City State brings thoughts of a secret society, pontiffs, (old men attired in
white and aspiring to be monarchic) and puffs of white smoke from a chimney
above the Sistine Chapel when a new pope has been elected. Michelangelo’s
ceiling in the Sistine Chapel attracts swarms of tourists like bees around a
queen, maybe hoping a fleck of papal magic will fall on their shoulders. Both the
death of Pope John Paul I in 1978 in suspicious circumstances and the shocking
contemporary accounts of abuse by Catholic priests focus modern attention on the
reputation of the Vatican. It is stained and under attack. With the city of
Rome itself the two cities have become beset with corruption and financial
mismanagement. (Comparisons with sexism and dark doings in the finance world of
the City of London are tempting.)
T
The city of light
Rome is a city to
be looked at. The only way I can experience it’s society and feel the life
within is to go about on foot. It has ancient buildings to be sure and some ridiculously
opulent and obscene art (an example of the latter being in the church of
Sant’Agnese in Agone) and architecture (Vittoriano) yet in no other city is
there on display the inventiveness, pomposity, humility, bravery and brilliance
of mankind. Generations of English and other northern European travellers have
been drawn to Rome and mesmerised by its soft light and its warmth. We have
fallen for the seduction of the Mediterranean way of life, the graceful stature
of ochre buildings and the long history of gladiators, noble statesmen, poets,
painters and musicians.
I have yet to
copy, there is still time, the 18th century British fashion of going
on a Grand Tour but one of my ancestors did. In 1816 Lord Byron - a man around
whom scandal circled all his adult life with tales of debauchery, multiple love
affairs and the running up of large debts - left Britain on a Grand Tour with
an entourage of similar rapscallions from Nottingham and London. I was
delighted to discover years ago that a Gisborne accompanied Byron. Amongst a
lineage of godly, sober and righteous Gisbornes (including two prebendaries of
Durham, several Members of Parliament, a poet, a president of the College of
Physicians, a Fellow of the Royal Society, Oxford scholars and numerous
businessmen) I was excited to learn more about my roguish antecedent who indulged
in sex, drugs and drink with the legendary poet. Alas, so far, my hunt for
details of this splendid fellow has met with little substance but the search
goes on. However I did find that another family member was well known to P.B.
Shelley who “made friends with Mrs Maria Gisborne…but wrote in disparaging
terms of her husband Mr John Gisborne, the size of whose nose appeared to
offend him”. Poor John! During his time in Rome in 1820 PBS took under his
wing, (I can only speculate as to why), a young woman he called his “Neopolitan
Charge”. He also invested in Maria’s son, by an earlier marriage, who started a
steamboat project in Florence! When PBS tried to withdraw his money from the
venture the Gisbornes demurred. The poet was driven to writing that the
Gisbornes were “the most filthy and odious animals with which he ever came in
contact”. I was pleased to discover the quarrel seems to have been made up and
letters of friendliness to the Gisbornes were later written.
So after reflecting
on my colourful relations and their part in Rome’s history I consider my own
introduction to Rome was of a more homely fashion.
Visited city
Dragging our
reluctant daughter and younger son around Rome in the heat of August with their
starry-eyed brother, a budding Roman Historian, is not a perfect introduction
to the Eternal City. My recollection of that visit in 1993 is of dusty narrow
streets, lethal rushing cars and scooters, noisy inhabitants, gelati, cats and ancient ruins.
Meanwhile my wife saw Gregory Peck astride every Vespa and my daughter looked in vain for Audrey Hepburn. The day
was made bearable by the discovery of a McDonalds restaurant (the garish red
and orange signboard replaced by a tasteful grey stone variety at the demand of
the city council, ‘we’ll take your dollars and you will do it our way’) close
to the foot of the Spanish Steps.
Twenty-six years
later, on my fifth visit, I fall for the city in a big way. I feel warmly
enveloped by the narrow cobbled streets as they draw us in to their embrace.
The old buildings are living and retain their original structure but the street
level shop window displays are contemporary. The pizzeria and gelatarie
are plentiful as are the bars for a lunchtime beer. “In Rome people spend most
of their time having lunch. And they do it very well – Rome is unquestionably
the lunch capital of the world”. Gone are the mangy cats from the Colosseum and
Forum. I deplored the stringy creatures that stared disdainfully at me. Gone
too is much of the noise from the cars, for many are now electric, and scooters
still thread a way around pedestrians – or maybe I am getting oblivious or deaf.
After all it has been through Rome retains its civilisation. Can London follow
suit?
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| Castel Sant'Angelo |
