Walks in Rome

by Augustus J. C. Hare

"Marmoreo Licinius tumulo jacet; at Cato parvo;
Pompeius nullo: quis putet esse Deus."

Among the many processions which have passed along this road, perhaps the most remarkable have been that bearing back to Rome the dead body of Sylla, who died at Pozzuoli, "in a gilt litter, with royal ornaments, trumpets before him, and horsemen behind;"[223] and the funeral of Augustus, who dying at Nola (A.D. 14), was brought to Bovillæ, and remained there a month in the sanctuary of the Julian family, after which the knights brought the body in solemn procession to his palace on the Palatine.

But throughout a walk along the Appian Way, the one great Christian interest of this world-famous road, will, to the Christian visitor, overpower all others.

"And so we went toward Rome.

"And from thence, when the brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as far as Appii-forum, and the Three Taverns: whom when Paul saw, he thanked God, and took courage.

"And when we came to Rome, the centurion delivered the prisoners to the captain of the guard; but Paul was suffered to dwell by himself, with a soldier that kept him."—Acts xxviii. 14—16.

"It is not without its manifold uses to remember that, amidst the dim and wavering traditions of later times, one figure at least stands out clear and distinct and undoubted, and this figure is the Apostle Paul. He, whatever we may think concerning any other apostle or apostolic man in connection with Rome, he, beyond a shadow of doubt, appears in the New Testament as her great teacher. No criticism or scepticism of modern times has ever questioned the perfect authenticity of that last chapter of the Acts, which gives the account of his journey, stage by stage, till he set foot within the walls of the city. However much we may be compelled to distrust any particular traditions concerning special localities of his life and death, we cannot doubt for a moment that his eye rested on the same general view of sky and plain and mountain; that his feet trod the pavement of the same Appian road; that his way lay through the same long avenue of ancient tombs on which we now look and wonder; that he entered (and there we have our last authentic glimpse of his progress) through the arch of Drusus, and then is lost to our view in the great Babylon of Rome."—A. P. Stanley's Sermons.

"When St. Paul was approaching Rome, all the bases of the mountains were (as indeed they are partially now) clustered round with the villas and gardens of wealthy citizens. The Appian Way climbs and then descends along its southern slope. After passing Lanuvium it crossed a crater-like valley or immense substructions, which still remain. Here is Aricia, an easy stage from Rome. The town was above the road, and on the hillside swarms of beggars beset travellers as they passed. On the summit of the next rise, Paul of Tarsus would obtain his first view of Rome. There is no doubt that the prospect was, in many respects, very different from the view which is now obtained from the same spot. It is true that the natural features of the scene are unaltered. The long wall of blue Sabine mountains, with Soracte in the distance, closed in the Campagna, which stretched far across to the sea and round the base of the Alban hills. But ancient Rome was not, like modern Rome, impressive from its solitude, standing alone, with its one conspicuous cupola, in the midst of a desolate though beautiful waste. St. Paul would see a vast city, covering the Campagna, and almost continuously connected by its suburbs with the villas on the hill where he stood, and with the bright towns which clustered on the sides of the mountains opposite. Over all the intermediate space were the houses and gardens, through which aqueducts and roads might be traced in converging lines towards the confused mass of edifices which formed the city of Rome. Here no conspicuous building, elevated above the rest, attracted the eye or the imagination. Ancient Rome had neither cupola nor campanile, still less had it any of those spires which give life to all the capitals of northern Christendom. It was a widespread aggregate of buildings, which, though separated by narrow streets and open spaces, appeared, when seen from near Aricia, blended into one indiscriminate mass: for distance concealed the contrasts which divided the crowded habitations of the poor and the dark haunts of filth and misery—from the theatres and colonnades, the baths, the temples, and palaces with gilded roofs, flashing back the sun.

"The road descended into the plain at Bovillæ, six miles from Aricia: and thence it proceeded in a straight line, with the sepulchres of illustrious families on either hand. One of these was the burial-place of the Julian gens, with which the centurion who had charge of the prisoners was in some way connected. As they proceeded over the old pavement, among gardens and modern houses, and approached nearer the busy metropolis—the 'conflux issuing forth or entering in' in various costumes and on various errands,—vehicles, horsemen, and foot-passengers, soldiers and labourers, Romans and foreigners,—became more crowded and confusing. The houses grew closer. They were already in Rome. It was impossible to define the commencement of the city. Its populous portions extended far beyond the limits marked out by Servius. The ancient wall, with its once sacred pomœrium, was rather an object for antiquarian interest, like the walls of York or Chester, than any protection against the enemies, who were kept far aloof by the legions on the frontier.

"Yet the Porta Capena is a spot which we can hardly leave without lingering for a moment. Under this arch—which was perpetually dripping with the water of the aqueduct that went over it—had passed all those who, since a remote period of the republic, had travelled by the Appian Way,—victorious generals with their legions, returning from foreign service,—emperors and courtiers, vagrant representatives of every form of heathenism, Greeks and Asiatics, Jews and Christians. From this point entering within the city, Julius and his prisoners moved on, with the Aventine on their left, close round the base of the Cœlian, and through the hollow ground which lay between this hill and the Palatine: thence over the low ridge called Velia, where afterwards was built the arch of Titus, to commemorate the destruction of Jerusalem; and then descending, by the Via Sacra, into that space which was the centre of imperial power and imperial magnificence, and associated also with the most glorious recollections of the republic. The Forum was to Rome, what the Acropolis was to Athens, the heart of all the characteristic interest of the place. Here was the Milliarium Aureum, to which the roads of all the provinces converged. All around were the stately buildings, which were raised in the closing years of the republic, and by the earlier emperors. In front was the Capitoline Hill, illustrious long before the invasion of the Gauls. Close on the left, covering that hill, whose name is associated in every modern European language with the notion of imperial splendour, were the vast ranges of the palace—the 'house of Cæsar' (Philipp. iv. 22). Here were the household troops quartered in a prætorium attached to the palace. And here (unless, indeed, it was in the great Prætorian Camp outside the city wall) Julius gave up his prisoner to Burrus, the Prætorian Prefect, whose official duty it was to keep in custody all accused persons who were to be tried before the Emperor."—Conybeare and Howson.