We emerge from the Metro at San Giovanni, faced by the magnificent stretch of the Aurelian Walls. The marble gate is the renaissance Porta San Giovanni, part of Sixtus V's urban plan of the 1570s. On the left-hand side is the ancient Roman Porta Asinaria ('Gate of the Ass-drivers') a southern (and clearly not terribly salubrious) gate to the city. Immediately ahead is the majestic facade of San Giovanni and across on the right is a huge mosaic-decorated apse, part of the Triclinium Leonianum, part of the demolished papal dining room built by Leo III shortly after he crowned Charlemagne in Rome in 800.
The mosaic survived 200 years after the papal palace was destroyed, but was 'restored' (the work is essentially an imaginative copy) in the 18th Century. Its iconography is no less interesting, however - the upper corners of Leo and Charlemagne kneeling at the feet of St Peter and Christ with Pope Sylvester and Constantine shows the deliberate correlation of Imperial/Papal relations of the Fourth Century Roman Empire and the Ninth Century Holy Roman Empire - it was at this time that the legend of the Donation of Constantine was invented, fueling the central power struggle of the Middle Ages between Pope and Emperor.
Passing the Scala Santa and the obelisk (Rome's tallest, oldest (15th Century BC) and perhaps most beautiful) We cross to the right on the far corner of the square, on the right of which is the Ospedale Di San Giovanni, founded suitably in 1348, the year of the Black Death. The road forks (in the centre is the Irish College that contains the heart of patriot parliamentarian Daniel O'Connell who died here, leaving 'my soul to heaven, my body to Ireland and my heart to Rome'. Quite literally. We take the left-hand fork, the Via San Stefano Rotondo.
Via S Stefano Rotondo - the Claudian Aqueduct
The right-hand wall is formed by the walled-up arches of the Claudian aqueduct, built by Nero to serve his palace on the Palatine - we shall follow its path on our walk. Rome's aqueducts supplied the city with 1000 litres of water per person per day. At the end of the street (home to the military hospital) on the left is the church of S Stefano Rotondo, set back from the road in a shady garden. According to Georgina Masson, Palestrina lived in a small house in the surrounding vineyards.
Interior, S Stefano Rotondo
Pope St Simplicius' 5th Century church consisted of a series of three concentric arcades; a transverse arcade was added for support in the 12th Century and in 1453 Nicholas V ordered Bernardo Rossellino to wall up the second set of arches, dramatically altering the aspect of the church. It must have communicated an extraordinary sense of scale when the original 34 columns were exposed as the sense of space is still immense. In contrast with this powerfully sober architecture are an series of gruesome paintings along the outer walls. Added in the 16th Century on the order of the Jesuits, this is a catalogue of martyrdoms arranged by each persecuting emperor and painted in gory detail that would somehow have inspired fearful awe in zealous missionaries. In true Counter-Reformation style, the sadistic images are annotated with a helpful code, with letters corresponding to the key below like a scientific diagram. Here is Charles Dicken's take on matters from his Pictures of Italy (1846):
To single out details from the great dream of Roman Churches, would be the wildest occupation in the world. But St. Stefano Rotondo, a damp, mildewed vault of an old church in the outskirts of Rome, will always struggle uppermost in my mind, by reason of the hideous paintings with which its walls are covered. These represent the martyrdoms of saints and early Christians; and such a panorama of horror and butchery no man could imagine in his sleep, though he were to eat a whole pig raw, for supper. Grey-bearded men being boiled, fried, grilled, crimped, singed, eaten by wild beasts, worried by dogs, buried alive, torn asunder by horses, chopped up small with hatchets: women having their breasts torn with iron pinchers, their tongues cut out, their ears screwed off, their jaws broken.... So insisted on, and laboured at, besides, that every sufferer gives you the same occasion for wonder as poor old Duncan awoke, in Lady Macbeth, when she marvelled at his having so much blood in him.
Exit and turn right, onto the Via della Navicella. Here, under another section of Nero's aqueduct adapted as a traffic cone, is the church of S. Maria in Domnica, opposite the Navicella itself, the 'little boat' copied for Leo X from a classical original. We enter the church through the dignified facade, attributed to Andrea Sansovino, to be greeted by the magnificent mosaic apse commissioned by Pope Paschal I, the 9th Century restorer of the church familiar to those who have visited S. Prassede. Here again is Paschal himself, kneeling at the Virgin's feet wearing the square halo of the living. In contrast with the usual Byzantine austerity, the setting is unusually verdant, a beautiful garden where the Virgin is attended by angels whose blue haloes head infinitely into the distance.
Apsidal Mosaic, S Maria in Domnica
From his churches, Paschal seems like one of the cheerier early Popes, but his reputation is rather shady - he died whilst under investigation for the blinding and beheading of two papal officials who were preparing to testify against him. Rather like Italian politics today, if a little more gruesome.
Arch of Dolabella and Hospital of St Thomas
Leaving the church and turning left we are greeted by a medieval gateway surmounted by a mosaic, Christ is shown with a black and white man either side. This is the entrance to the Hospital of St Thomas, founded by S Giovanni di Matha, founder of the Trinitarian order in 1198, whose red and blue cross can be seen above the mosaic. Their main duty was to raise the ransom for Christian prisoners - principally those captured by Arab pirates in the Mediterranean - hence the prisoners either side of Christ. Notice on the marble arch below the signature of Master Jacobus and his son Cosmato, the original 'Cosmati' of the Roman Mosaic school. The hospital is gone but the Trinitarians are still there - above the Arch of Dolabella (10 AD) is the room where S Giovanni di Matha is said to have died in 1213.
Mosaic over entrance to Hospital of St Thomas
Follow this road under the arch; immediately on the right is a tall portion of the aqueduct. The wall on the right conceals the Passionist Congregation of St Paul, whose orto is on the site of one of Nero's nymphaeums in the extensive gardens of the Domus Aurea. Emerging into a small square, we are faced by the Church of Ss. Giovanni e Paolo. Practically nothing here is later than the Middle Ages; even the road name, the Clivo di Scauro, survives from Antiquity. Beneath the campanile is a section of the Temple of Claudius, built by his fourth wife, Agrippina, shortly after his death and deification - she allegedly had a hand in the former. Go through the gate below to see some more of these colossal foundations. On the other side of the square is a series of 3rd Century tabernae and the entrance to the public park of the Villa Celimontana.
Piazza Ss Giovanni e Paolo, Campanile with Roman Foundations
The church's exterior is promising, the columns either side of the doorway belonging to the original 4th Century structure built by Pammachius, a senator and friend of St Jerome who died in monastic seclusion in 410, the year of Rome's sacking by Alaric. Inside, however, there are no signs of even the medieval stage of the building under its 18th Century accretions, beyond its Cosmatesque floor. The gaudy chandeliers are a surprising inclusion - they come from the Waldorf Astoria in New York, whose Archbishop, Cardinal Spellman sponsored the restoration of 1951. The robed flower pots along the nave are a clue that the church is popular for weddings. To get a sense of its ancient origins, one must exit, turn right, and head under the arches of the Clivus Scauri where there is a doorway into the Roman houses under the church,
undoubtedly one of the city's hidden treasures.
We enter a row of rooms containing frescoes from the 9th Century, when these were used as chapels after the church was built. The next series of rooms contain the oldest paintings - pagan images of naked youths, festoons and a cheerful array of birds and putti. Behind is a nymphaeum, part of the same house with a beautiful mythological fresco depicting gods (possibly Venus Marina, or Proserpina returning to Hades) and jolly boating cherubs. It was found in 1909, covered by a plaster layer that was probably added in the Third Century when the houses became Christian property.
It was at this time that frescoes of a clearly Christian nature were added, above a pair of graves that are still visible. The tradition, dating to the Sixth Century, is that John and Paul were officials of Constantine who retired to the Coelian. On the accession of Julian the Apostate in 360, they were recalled to military service, refused, and awaited sentence in their home where they were discovered and executed and later buried, in contravention of the strict laws forbidding any burials within the city walls. Controversial though this story is, the frescoes in a small confessio above the graves themselves show a scene of martyrdom - whoever was buried here was the object of veneration from a very early stage.
Under Ss Giovanni e Paolo, view of the saints' graves and the fenestrella confessionis beyond
The Antiquarium contains an interesting series of finds, including the beautiful 12th Century fresco of Christ with the archangels that was originally over the entrance, and the original 12th Century Islamic pottery that once decorated the Campanile.
Continuing down the Clivo di Scauro, we pass the compound of S. Gregorio Magno, and the ruins of its 6th Century library, probably built by Gregory's immediate predecessor Agapitus to combat Rome's illiteracy. We drop down to the Via di San Gregorio, with the final section of aqueduct and the Palatine in front - on the right is the facade of Gregory's church, with the eagles and dragon of the Borghese pope Paul V conversing above its doorways. If, unlike me, you arrive before lunchtime, head into the little gate on the right of the facade to see the chapels of S. Barbara, S. Andrea and S. Silvia, with delightful frescoes by Domenichino, Lanfranco and Reni. Or leave it for another day - after wandering on the Coelian Hill, the 16th Century can seem like an all-too-modern shock to the system.
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