by Anne Harrison
In the middle of the Tiber lies the picturesque Isola Tiberina. The island embraces two millennia of Roman history, for it has been important to Rome from her beginnings as a small river-side settlement through to her growth into the Eternal City. Foundations date back to the Iron Age – long before Romulus and Remus were mothered by their She-wolf.
In 293 BC, Rome suffered from one of the many pestilences which proved the tribulation of the Ancient world. Seeking divine aid, a delegation of high priests and doctors made a pilgrimage to Aesculapius’ temple at Epidaurus. In response to their prayers and offerings, one of the temple’s sacred The success of the quest was thus assured. Upon the ship’s return to Rome, the snake slithered into the Tiber and crossed to the reed-covered island, which lay opposite the city’s port. This was so obvious a sign Aesculapius desired a temple here, not only was one built but the island itself hewn to resemble a ship. Large structures of white travertine were built at either end to augment the resemblance to prow and stern, complete with a bust of Aesculapius and his caduceus. In the centre of the island an obelisk was raised to suggest the main mast of a Roman galley. Thus dedicated to the powerful god of healing, the Isola Tiberina has been associated with the care of the sick ever since.
These carvings are still visible. At the foot of the Ponte Cestio (the first stone bridge to link the island with the Trastevere, on the Right Bank), steps lead down to the island’s embankment. Here on the travertine can be seen the carving of Aesculapius and his staff with its entwined, winged serpents. The bridge itself is inscribed with the names of the Byzantine emperors associated with its restoration in 30AD.
With the growth of Rome, the reputation of the Isola Tiberina’s temple and its doctors grew such that the sick ventured here from all over the Empire to seek healing. Like its namesake at Epidaurus, the temple became famous for the drinking of its miraculous waters, and for dream cures. Most probably opium (or a similar opiate) was used to produce a drugged state filled with dreams, hallucinations, and a susceptibility to suggestion. Hypnosis was a key factor; priests appeared in the dim, smoky light dressed as Aesculapius, and sacred snakes and dogs flickered their tongues over ailing body parts. The fame of these cures was to outlast both the Roman and Greek Empires.
The temple is gone, but on its ruins Emperor Otto II founded the church of St Bartholomew all’Isola in 1000AD. Within this Gothic church lies the remains of the well whose waters were once famous for healing. Otto dedicated the church to the memory of his friend St Adalbert of Prague, whose altar stands in The Millers’ Chapel. The chapel is decorated with frescoes depicting the flour-mills once moored around the island, providing freshly milled flour for a city now famous for its freshly ground coffee.
The Fate-Bene-Fratelli
The spirit of Aesculapius continues in the San Bartolomeo Hospital, founded in 1584 and still under the care of the Brothers Of St John of God. The hospital and its medieval buildings occupy most of the island, and are more suggestive of alchemy and hooded monks than modern medicine. Both the hospital and the Hospitalliers are often called after the inscription on an alms box in the adjacent church (Fate-bene-fratelli, or ‘do good, Brothers’); much of their time is spent caring for Rome’s poor.
Named after St Bartholomew, the hospital naturally became known for it dermatological unit; skin complaints have been under the saint’s protection since he was flayed alive in the Middle Ages. Rahere, a favourite of Henry II, was cured here in the11th century of the itch (and possible malaria); he returned to England to found St Bart’s.
The hospital can be reached from the Left Bank via the Ponte Fabricio, which links the Old Ghetto to the island. At the junction of the two join stands the Pierloni-Caetani Tower. Built by the Pierloni family before 1000 AD at one of the most strategic approaches along the Tiber to Medieval Rome, it was used first by the Pierlonis and then the Caetanis for control of the river. Jewish in origin, the Caetani family was to produce a pope, Anacletus II. The Adjacent Pierloni-Caetani Castle, which fronts onto the Piazza San Bartolomeo, served as a fortress for several fugitive popes in the Middle Ages. It became a Franciscan monastery in the 17th century, and is now the Tiber Island History museum.
Standing on the Ponte Fabricio is one way to glimpse the essence of Ancient Rome. Built in 62 BC, not long after Spartacus lead the slaves in a revolt, it remains the oldest original bridge over the Tiber still in use. Two ancient stone heads can be seen in the parapets. Not far away is The Forum, where on Capitoline Hill the magnificent Temple of Jupiter was once the centre of the known world.
In Rome, the linking of these times, through an island which has been associated with healing for over two thousand years, seems not strange, but, entirely appropriate.
Private Archaeology and Architecture Walk Through Rome
If You Go:
♦ Staying in a convent offers a unique experience when in Rome (or elsewhere in Italy). For help in booking, try www.santasusanna.org/comingToRome/convents.html or www.bookingmonastery.com
♦ Arguably Rome’s best coffee is the Sant’Eustachio Il Caffé, just around the corner from the Pantheon and not too far from the Isola Tiberina
♦ The open top tourist buses are a great way to get around Rome’s major sights, without struggling with the overloaded public transport system
Anne Harrison lives with her husband, two children and numerous pets on the Central Coast, NSW. Her jobs include wife, mother, doctor, farmer and local witch doctor – covering anything from delivering alpacas to treating kids who have fallen head first into the washing machine. Her fiction has been published in Australian literary magazines, and has been placed in regional literary competitions. Her non-fiction has been published in medical and travel journals. Her ambition is to be 80 and happy. Her writings are available at anneharrison.com.au and anneharrison.hubpages.com
All photos are by Anne Harrison:
A view over the Tiber towards the Vatican
Bernini’s sunken boat – boats feature heavily in the art around Rome
The past endures: an ancient Roman column topped with a Christian saint
A view from the Forum, across a Renaissance church, to the modern Victor Emmanuel Monument
Recognizable to any medieval citizen, the Baptistery and Duomo remain the heart of Florence. Dante’s ‘bel San Giovanni’ is one of the city’s oldest and most famous buildings. Medieval houses still line the Piazza Duomo, many still proudly displaying a stone coat of arms. Like many Florentines of the time, Dante was baptized in the large octagonal font of the Basilica. The building itself dates back to the 4th century. The 13th century mosaics covering the ceiling show with graphic detail the horrors and glories of the Last Judgment. Dante never saw Ghiberti’s famed doors, for they would not grace the building for another century.
For the hardy, 463 steps lead from the floor of the Duomo and up through a labyrinth of corridors and stairwells to the top of the cupola. (The most difficult part of the climb is over the arch; there is a spot here for lovers to place a padlock and throw away the key. In hidden corners remain marks left on the brickwork by the medieval builders.) The cupola soars to the height of the neighbouring hills. The view embraces the history of Florence, with many a medieval street following the course of their Roman precursors. Private palaces survive, and a few towers – or torre, outlawed in 1250 – still remain.
Dominating the Palazzo Vecchio, the Piazza della Signora has continued as the centre of political activity since the Middle Ages. Heavy traffic has been banned since 1385. The imposing façade of the Palazzo Vecchio has remained virtually unchanged since it was built (1299 – 1302) – Dante writes of how the houses of the Ghibelline Uberti were demolished after the triumph of the Guelfs, and the new Palazzo built on their ruins. (The Piazza della Signora is itself built over Roman ruins.)
Walking beneath the arch into the Via Santa Margherita leads past the 12th century Santa Margherita de’ Cerchi, where the poet married Gemma Donati (they were betrothed when Dante was nine). It is also where he first saw Beatrice Portinari, the woman he immortalized in his writing. Beatrice’s father, Folco Portinari, is buried here.
Standing near the site of the original Roman crossing of the Arno, this was the city’s only bridge until 1218. In Dante’s time the Ponte Vecchio was home to butchers and grocers; since the 16th C it had been the place to shop Florence’s most spectacular jewellery.
On the left of the church runs the Costa di San Giorgio; Galileo once lived at No 9. At the end of the road stands the Porta San Giorgio, the oldest of the surviving city gates (Florence was still a wall city in Dante’s time.) A steep walk away is perhaps the most unspoilt of all the Romanesque churches in Tuscany: San Miniato al Monte. It’s classical façade of green-grey and white marble has looked down over Florence since 1018.
The delightful medieval town of Narni in Umbria would perhaps have gone almost unnoticed, apart from being considered to be the exact geographical centre of Italy, if it hadn’t been for C.S.Lewis. While examining a Latin atlas of Europe, he came across the name Narnia, which soon took on a whole new meaning. Although Lewis never visited Narnia, or Narni, as it is now known, it may not be pure coincidence that the tomb of Blessed Lucy of Narni can be found in the town’s impressive cathedral. Images of mythical beasts in stone and iron decorate the ancient buildings and streets. The lion features prominently.
Guided tours of Narni Underground nowadays begin in the church, which was consecrated as “Santa Maria delle Rupe”, although the discovery of a copy of a fourteenth century contract revealed the church’s original name as being Chiesa di Sant’Angelo or S. Michele Archangelo (St Michael The Archangel). Although the church has sustained considerable damage, due to water infiltration, beautiful frescos of Christ on the Cross and symbols of the evangelists still adorn the walls and the ceiling is painted with stars and a symbol of The Lamb of God. The Archangel Michael features fighting a dragon and weighing souls. Several skeletons were found in tombs in the floor of the church, which has still not been completely excavated.
Convinced there was still more to discover, in May 1979, the young potholers, whose efforts to draw attention to their discovery were largely ignored, found a blocked up door in a garden on the other side of the wall. Being denied permission to try and open the door, the friends took advantage of boisterous festivities, during the local medieval celebration the “Corsa all’Anello”, to cover noise while they made a hole in the door. They were stunned by what they discovered. A short passage led to a large windowless chamber, which later came to light had been used by The Court of the Inquisition to “extract” confessions from those accused of polygamy, blasphemy, witchcraft and adultery- crimes which labelled them as heretics. “The Room of Torment” now contains models of gruesome torture instruments used on these ill-fated souls, including the rack and Judas cradle. Beyond the chamber, the group came across a tiny cell, completely covered in mysterious graffiti. The inscription “Santo Uffizio” (Holy Office), was the key to leading them to understand the area had been used by The Inquisition.
The graffiti in the prison cell appears to have largely been the work of one desperate prisoner, Giuseppe Andrea Lombardini, whose name is inscribed on the wall under the date 1759 and the remains of the word “Innocent”, which was erased by his guards. Lombardini left a series of cryptic messages and mysterious symbols ,made from a mixture of brick dust and urine, that seem to have a peculiar mixture of origins. Masonic symbols, such as a triangle with a dot, symbolising the eye of the Grand Architect of the Universe merge with strong Christian symbols such as crosses, religious monograms and a representation of the legend of St Nicolas. An image of a tree surrounded by doves is thought to symbolize the tree of life. A sinister falconer catching birds under the tree may represent the church, or the Inquistion itself, destroying freedom. The sequence 7, 24, 42, 70 is repeated in 3 areas within the cell. The sum of the interior numbers is 66, whereas that of the exterior numbers is 77, therefore implying the battle between good and evil. It is interesting to note that the graffiti artist deliberately replaces the letter D with the letter T in his inscriptions, which is believed to express hatred for the Dominican order who ran the Inquisition. Suns, moons, ladders, Jesuit and cabalistic images leave secret messages that have still not been completely deciphered.
In 2004, it was discovered that Trinity College, Dublin housed a number of important documents referring to the Inquisition including transcripts of the trial of Domenico Ciabocchi, confirming the existence of The Inquisition in Narni. Following this discovery, Robert Nini, one of the intrepid potholers and now president of Narni Underground, wrote to Cardinal Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XIV) who granted him permission to consult the secret archives in the Vatican.
I am amused and entertained by the wooing of passersby that ensues, the waltz of gestures and pivots, the come-hither looks. Economic casualty aside, I presume the pride of owning an un-Burberry outweighs the pesky oppression of jail. Yesterday, I watched as they installed themselves in front of the Prada store, selling fake Prada bags. Some laugh, some applaud, I cringe.
Rashid tells me he came from Marrakesh a couple of years ago. He is 25 and comes every day to the Palazzo Vecchio to surreptitiously sell cheap posters depicting iconic artworks hanging in Italian museums. With knitted brow and eyes cast to the clouds, he proceeds to say that on a good day he’ll sell 10 or 20 at five euros each. He leans in closer and whispers to me, proudly, his biggest seller is Botticelli’s ‘Primavera’.
I learn the real David, though housed in a quiet museum, has been attacked a few times, recently by a hammer-wielding fanatic. It was repaired by marble restorers, so is it disqualified from being truly real?
What faithfully happens, as summer turns to autumn in Tuscany, is that people come down with a pernicious fever – let’s call it ‘acute funghiosis’ – which causes a delirious devotion to truffles. Truffles are discussed with the same intensity and fervor usually reserved for Plato. They are hunted, worshipped, prized, prepared and savoured — after which, the experience of hunting, worshipping, prizing, preparing and savoring is again examined with near-religious ecstasy. This epidemic grips the palate of anyone who eats, and can be cured foremost with a generous serving of taglierini alla tartufo.
Now, this is also Olive Oil season, with capital ‘O’ s , and everywhere you go is the promise of 42 extra-virgins in heaven. Hand picked, hand pressed, home bottled, first run, double extra, organic, small batch, cottage industry silken oil flows more vigorously and greener than the Arno. Beautiful handblown bottles with delicately drawn artisanal labels beckon you from shop windows and market stalls with their liquid treasure of early fresh earthen green oil. Sadly, by the time it hits our shores, its colour and flavour have mellowed and that newborn nutty taste is but a memory of the motherland.
The next day, with late October sun on the city’s shoulders, I headed by local bus to the nearby borough of Fiesole, perched high in the emerald hills overlooking Florence. There is a spectacular hotel here, The Villa San Michele, of the Orient-Express group, that delivers luxurious vistas of the Florentine valley while dining al fresco. Skipping an overnight stay, I opted for the ‘express’ route of lunching like a local.
Seated on the wide veranda, seduced by breathtaking views and splendid food, I felt fully intoxicated by all that seemed an enchanted illusion. It occurred to me then : Could this be a condition for which there is no cure ?
