Ave Roma Immortalis, Vol. 2: Studies from the Chronicles of Rome

In Short

This second volume of a comprehensive study serves as a topographical and historical tour of Rome, moving from the city’s ancient regions into the ecclesiastical heart of the Vatican. It captures the atmosphere of a city defined by its layers of ruin and restoration. By alternating between quiet observation of street corners and the sweeping narratives of popes and tyrants, the work creates a portrait of a place where history never truly settles. It remains a classic of travel literature for its ability to ground vast historical concepts in specific, physical locations.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume follows a geographical and thematic progression, beginning with the individual administrative "Regions" of Rome and concluding with the spiritual and political center of the Catholic world. The journey through the regions—from Regola and Sant' Eustachio to the expansive Trastevere and Borgo—is not merely a walk through streets, but a descent into the city's complex memory. The author introduces these districts as vessels of historical tension, using the collapse of the Roman Republic and the rise of the Inquisition as constant, repeating motifs.

The story of the city is presented as a series of cycles: the rise of a powerful leader, a moment of transformative achievement, and an inevitable, often messy, fall. The account of Cola di Rienzi, the short-lived tribune, serves as a central emblem of this pattern. His rise to power on the Capitol is framed as a brief, discordant melody in the city's long history, ending in his brutal murder by a mob and the subsequent erasure of his memory. This violence is contrasted with the architectural evolution of the city, where the "giantism" of the Latin race is reflected in the construction and reconstruction of monumental sites like the Capitol and the Pantheon.

As the narrative moves toward the Vatican, the tone shifts from the chaotic, street-level history of the regions to the controlled, deliberate atmosphere of the Papacy. The life of Pope Leo XIII and the functioning of the Vatican are presented not as static history, but as a continuation of the same ancient struggle for authority. The final chapters focus on the transition from the old, paternalistic Rome of the nineteenth century to the modern, unified Italy. The book closes by reflecting on the death and entombment of Pius IX, emphasizing the continuity of the church despite the loss of its temporal power. The ending is not a resolution, but a recognition of Rome as a place that, like the Capitol, always retains a "spark of vitality" buried within its ruins, waiting to reanimate for the next age.

How It Unfolds

The geography of memory The narrative divides the city into its traditional regions, treating each street and piazza as a page in a chronicle. The author meticulously connects modern architectural landmarks to the vanished structures or events that once defined them.

The cycles of violence and ambition Historical figures are introduced as players in a long, repetitive drama of power. By focusing on the rise and fall of leaders like Rienzi, the author argues that Rome’s history is an endless cycle of reform followed by reaction.

The shift toward the ecclesiastical The book moves from the secular quarters of the city to the independent enclave of the Vatican. Here, the focus turns to the mechanics of the Papacy, pilgrimages, and the administrative life of the church in the modern era.

The finality of the mausoleum The concluding sections center on the Vatican and Saint Peter's as both the culmination of Roman history and a sanctuary from its noise. The detailed account of the burial of a Pope serves to illustrate the weight of tradition that persists beneath the changing political surface of Italy.

The People

The book is populated by figures who embody the city’s conflicting impulses toward order and anarchy. Cola di Rienzi stands out as the ultimate tragic figure; he is a man of "first dreams" who lacks the fortitude to sustain them, eventually becoming a "strangely responsive instrument" for the city's shifting moods. In stark contrast, Pope Leo XIII is portrayed as a prudent strategist and a master of organization, a leader who understands that the church must evolve to survive. Cardinal Antonelli represents the ruthless, pragmatic side of governance, acting as the "best hated man" of his day in his desperate, failed effort to preserve the temporal power of the Pope. Finally, the "Honest King" Victor Emmanuel is presented with a measured skepticism; while he is credited with the unification of Italy, the author notes that his success was often the result of the superior political genius of others like Cavour, casting him as a symbol of a new era that is still struggling to define its own legacy.

In Its Own Voice

"Then one man, tired of his pale and bloated face, silently struck a knife into his heart, and as he fell dead, the rabble rushed upon him and stabbed him to pieces, and a long yell of murderous rage told all Rome that Rienzi was dead."

The author recounts the violent, chaotic end of the populist leader Cola di Rienzi on the Capitol.

"Perhaps no point of ancient Rome seems less Roman and less individual than that spot where Rienzi stood, silent and terrified, for a whole hour before the old stone lion, waiting for the curious, pitiless rabble to kill him."

The author describes the stark contrast between the current, artificial appearance of the Capitol and its intense, bloody history.

"The difference between the two points of view is the difference between jesting and being in earnest--between an art that compared itself with an ideal future, and the art of today that measures itself with an ideal past."

Reflecting on the Renaissance, the author distinguishes the purposeful, meaning-driven art of the past from the modern tendency to prioritize beauty alone.

What It's Really About

At its heart, the book is an inquiry into the nature of permanence. It asks why certain structures—physical and institutional—endure while the people who build them vanish so quickly. The text grapples with the tension between "Civilization" and "Progress," arguing that the two are fundamentally independent. Progress is change, a constant "going on," whereas civilization is a more static, refined condition of manners and tradition. The book is deeply concerned with how a city can be both a graveyard of ancient dreams and a living, breathing capital. It posits that Rome’s greatness lies not in its ability to remain unchanged, but in its capacity to absorb its own destruction and survive as a testament to human ambition.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate an unhurried, scholarly approach to travel and history will find much to admire here. The writing is warm, deeply informed, and unapologetically reflective, offering a sense of place that feels both distant and immediate. Those interested in the "Renascence" period or the intricacies of Roman administration will find the detailed observations on art, architecture, and religious life particularly rewarding.

However, the reader should be prepared for the author's nineteenth-century sensibilities, which occasionally manifest in sweeping, sometimes paternalistic claims about the "Latin race" or the relative merits of different social classes. The prose is dense, occasionally meandering, and assumes a high level of familiarity with Italian history and topography. It is not a quick guidebook; it is a companion for someone who wishes to sit in a piazza and contemplate the layers of time beneath their feet. What stays with you is the author's ability to see the "spirit" of the city—a feeling that Rome is not merely a collection of buildings, but a living entity that has been forged by centuries of triumph and failure, and which continues to hold the weight of its own long, complex life.