Chapter VI: A Glimpse of Samnium

From Caserta and what is to be seen from Caserta, our next journey lies by the line of railway which runs right across Italy, connecting the two great lines of the east and west of the peninsula. It leads us from the Campanian plain, with at least its sheltering wall of mountains, with Tifata to guard the great city that once was from the ruder land beyond, to the great plain of Apulia from which every feature of a mountain-land has passed away. But, in so crossing from one side of Italy to the other, we pass through a striking and an historic region. We are in the land of the mightiest Italian rivals of Rome, the land of those with whom Rome had to fight, before Pyrrhos and Hannibal came, and ages after Pyrrhos and Hannibal were gone.

Our course leads us into the heart of the Samnite land, a land which may well call up endless musings on the hard fate of those "hearts of steel" who bore up so long against Rome, in the days when Rome was really at her greatest. And the memories of the same land in after days are not wholly alien to those of earlier times. Our course brings us, at not a few points, across the memories, if not of nations, yet of men, who had to bear up against the power of Rome, when the power of Rome had taken a far other form than that of the senate and the armies against which the Samnite had to strive. For the old Samnite land holds its place in later story, as the land of princes who felt what the spiritual Rome could do when the powers of the spiritual Rome were at their highest. We pass through regions which were the scene of no small part of the history of the Norman and Swabian lords of Sicily and Southern Italy. We are deep in the land of the counts, dukes, kings, and emperors of the house of Hauteville and the house of Hohenstaufen; and we are often called on to stop and track out their deeds. At not a few points do we light on some building, some inscription, which brings up the memory of Frederick, the Wonder of the World, and of Manfred, whose field of overthrow we shall presently pass by. In both periods the history of these lands has a character altogether different from that of Northern and Central Italy. In the later period this needs no proof: we are dealing with the history of a kingdom, not with the history of a system of separate cities. But something of the same difference extends to the earlier period also. If we wish to know more of Volscians and Hernicans, yet more keenly do we wish to know more of Samnites. The part which they played is greater, at all events in scale, and their dealings with Rome belong to a stage of Roman history when we feel that we have a kind of right to know more than we could hope to know in the earlier time. But while we know something of the character of the Samnite people as a whole, while we know something--though much less than in some other Italian lands--of the geography of the Samnite country, we have no clear notion of the political position or the political action of any particular Samnite city or canton, such as we ever and anon do get of particular cities of Etruria and Latium. And again, it is seldom that we can call up any distinct personal conception of any Samnite leader as a living and breathing man. This is indeed a grievance which affects Samnites along with the other Italian enemies of Rome. The personal conceptions which we do get of Etruscans and Latins largely belong to legendary times. Of historical Volscians we know very few. And we have already complained on Hernican ground that we cannot picture to ourselves the personal likeness of any single Hernican of independent Hernican days.

Still, on this particular journey we have small right to complain; for we pass by the spot which calls up the memories of the most memorable Samnites of whom we have any personal knowledge. They are men of one name, most likely therefore of one house, and men of whom we emphatically wish to know more than we do know. Leaving Caserta behind, glancing at the Campanian plain and the Campanian mountains, marking Naples only by the smoke of the distant city, we pass along through what, in our simplicity, we take to be the vale of Vulturnus, till we light on a more classical friend, armed with a more classical map, who explains that the stream which we are tracing is in strictness not Vulturnus himself, but only his tributary Calor. Anyhow we go along its course into the heart of the Samnite land, and we pass by one spot--a spot which we ought to have treated better than merely to pass it by, a spot round which the greatest memories of Samnite history gather, and where they strangely interweave themselves with wholly different memories of the history of our own land. We reach Telesia, the home of the Pontii, and we remember that Telesia was also for a moment the home of Anselm. Our guide-book provokingly fails us; but the large building on the hill-side must surely be the monastery where he sojourned. There are Roman antiquities in the place; for Samnite antiquities we do not look. But did Samnites build no walls, or do the mighty bulwarks of Cori and Segni mark an earlier state of things than the Sabellian occupation of Southern Italy? Anyhow, we are here at the place which has attached itself as a surname to the two most memorable men in the scanty personal history of Samnium. Here, on his own ground, we remember that Gaius Pontius who spared Rome's army at the Caudine Forks, and who lived to be led, twenty-seven years later, as a spectacle in a Roman triumph, to end his days, one might almost say as a martyr, by the axe of the headsman in a Roman dungeon. So we used to read the tale in our youth; so moralized the historians of our youth over the special baseness which handed over such a man to such an end. Or are we to adopt the new reading of the tale which at least saves Quintus Fabius Maximus from that special stain of blood-guiltiness which cleaves to the canonized memory of Divus Julius? It may be well if we can believe that one of the worthiest heroes of the old commonwealth, if he could not forestall the magnanimity of Pompeius and Aurelian, at least did not sink to the special and petty spite of the murderer of Vercingetorix. We are now taught that the Gaius Pontius who appears twenty-seven years after the first mention of that name, is most likely not the same man as the merciful victor of the Caudine Forks. If this be so, then Quintus Fabius, in consigning his Pontius to the axe, merely conformed to the cruel custom of his nation, without the further aggravation of slaying in cold blood one who had dealt with Rome so nobly. And after all some might hint that the oldest Pontius of all was the wisest. It may be that the sage old father of Gaius knew human nature best, when he bade his son either to massacre the whole Roman army or else to let them go free without terms. It may be that the son chose a more dangerous path than either, when he took to diplomacy and middle courses.

But if the earlier Pontius of Telesia should prove--though the guess is a simple guess--to be in truth two Pontii, perhaps a father and a son, no doubt seems to have fixed itself on the identity of the last Pontius at the Colline gate of Rome. The rising again of Samnite life at the last moment of all, when the war with the allies seemed to have lost itself in the deeper whirlpool of the war of Marius and Sulla, is really the most striking thing in the whole history, such as we have it, of the Samnite people. We are taken by surprise when, in days when Rome already seems the fully established head, not only of Italy, but of all the Mediterranean world, her power, her very being, is threatened by the leader of a nation which seemed to have been dead and buried for some centuries. But, just like the Volumnian tomb in one way, so the Samnite resurrection in another way is a witness to the real life which the other states of Italy kept on under a form of Roman dominion which made them externally dependent, which threw its influence into the scale of oligarchy in their external affairs, which ever and anon subjected them to some irregular demand, but which left the general course of their lives to be whatever they themselves chose it to be. In the days of Marius and Sulla, Etruscans and Samnites were still Etruscans and Samnites; they had not become Romans, nor had they merged their being in any common name of Italians. The Social War itself was the first attempt at forming a general Italian nationality. But the last campaign of the last Pontius shows how deep, in Samnite hearts at least, was the earlier feeling, the feeling which knew no greater whole than the federal union of Etruria or Samnium. It shows too how specially deep was the feeling of hatred for the single city which had brought down so many cities and leagues to become its helpless dependents. Against Pontius at the Colline gate Rome fought for life, as she had never fought since the old days when she had to guard herself against enemies who lived within sight of her capitol. Foreign invaders, Pyrrhos, Hannibal himself, did not come with the same fixed purpose of rooting up the wood which sheltered the wolves of Italy. We can hardly doubt that it is the hand of Sulla which from that day to this has hindered the south of Italy from being like the north. But the blow which crushed the Samnite people as the other nations of Italy were not crushed, was vengeance taken for a moment when it once more became a question whether Rome should rule over Italy, whether Rome should exist at all.

At Telesia we look out, and muse on what might have been, if one Pontius had done otherwise than he did by the forks of Caudium, if another Pontius had fared otherwise than he fared at the gates of Rome herself. At our next halting-place we are called on, not to muse on what might have been, but on what was. At Beneventum we tread the battle-ground of Pyrrhos and Manfred, the ground of two of the greatest victories of the Rome of the earlier and the Rome of the later day. There we need not strive to call up the dim figures of men, like the older and the later Pontius, known by one action of their lives. The Epeirot and the Swabian stand out as clearly discerned figures in the history of their several ages. And the places where we next halt will show us the place of overthrow for both, the place of death and utter ruin for one.

VII. Benevento.

We follow the stream of Calore till we reach a city which, without ever having been one of the great cities of the world, without having been even one of the greatest cities of Italy, has always kept up an important historic being. Beneventum is a familiar name in all ages; yet Beneventum has never been either a mighty commonwealth like Venice or Genoa, or the head of a mighty kingdom like Naples and Palermo. It has had its princes; if we never heard of them before, we should learn a good deal of them by studying the monuments of their city. That is to say, the monuments will tell us a great deal about princes nine hundred or a thousand years back; no monument that we remember in Benevento tells us anything about the last prince who bore their title. Let us suppose a wanderer who began his travels at Autun and who finds himself, in the course of the same wandering, at Benevento. He will feel it as a grotesque coincidence that, not so very long ago, a man was living who had once been Prince of Benevento and who before that had been Bishop of Autun. Benevento, among many other things that it is, is also the later city of Talleyrand, as Autun is the earlier. But there is this difference that one thinks of Talleyrand at Autun and one does not think of him at Benevento. At Autun he has his place, though a very strange place, in the long succession of Bishops of Autun; at Benevento, though he bore the style of its prince, he stands all alone; we cannot find a niche for him in the succession of the Beneventan princes. Yet a prince of Benevento whose existence marks the ending for a season of the long papal dominion in Benevento reminds us that Benevento had its princes before that papal dominion began. It reminds us of the two distinctive features in the later history of the city. Benevento was first the seat of Lombard princes who, placed on the borders of both empires, contrived to escape all practical submission to either; it was then the seat of an outlying scrap of papal dominion surrounded on all sides by the Sicilian realm. In both these characters Benevento was a kind of curiosity on the historical map of Europe. But the city had its ups and downs before those days, and amongst other things it had gone through a somewhat grotesque change of name. It is hard to believe that a city placed so far inland can really have been of Greek origin; but legend attributed it to a Greek founder, and its oldest name had a Greek sound. Greek _Maloeis_, Samnite _Maluentum_, had, when it was read into Latin _Maloventum_, an ill sound; so, when the Samnite stronghold was changed into the Roman colony, it took the name of Beneventum, city of welcome.

Beneventum, marked by Procopius as a strong city in a high place, stands low as compared with the true hill-cities. Still, as compared with Capua, it might itself pass for a hill-city. It has just that amount of rise above the river which there commonly is where there is a river, such a rise as may be seen in many an English town which is not as Durham or Lincoln. We miss the primæval walls of the hill-cities; but we find, on the other hand, works of Roman and mediæval art such as in the hill-cities we do not find. The arch of Trajan has vanished from Rome, except so far as it lives in the sculptures which were torn from it to enrich the arch of Constantine. But at Benevento, as at Ancona, the memorial of the conqueror of Dacia still abides. The Beneventan arch may indeed fairly take its place in the Roman series. It belongs essentially to the same class of designs as the arch of Severus and the arch of Constantine, while it has little in common with its own tall and slender fellow at Ancona. At the same time, since it has, in general effect at least, taken upon itself something of the position of a town-gate, since it bears the name of _Porta aurea_, to match the golden gate of Constantinople and the golden gate of Spalato, the arch of Beneventum has now a somewhat greater air of reality than triumphal arches commonly have. The weak point of that class of structures is that they are of no use. They do not, like a wall, a gateway, a house, a temple, a hall of council, serve any purpose in the ordinary economy of things. They are purely monumental, set up to commemorate something or somebody, but in no way to help on men's daily affairs, public or private. And yet they are not mere monuments, like a statue or an inscribed stone. A large building of this kind, having very much the air of a building which does serve some purpose, is a little deceptive. It is so like a real gateway that it calls up the thought of a real gateway, and leaves us a little disappointed at finding that the building, after all, never was of any use to anybody, and was set up simply to be looked at. There is, therefore, something a little unsatisfactory in the whole class of triumphal arches, and it may even be that a slightly ludicrous element is thrown in when we find that the immediate occasion for rearing this record of the life and exploits of the "fortissimus princeps" whom it commemorates was the repair of the Appian Way. But it does not become us to find fault with any built and graven monument, specially with one of a time of which we have so few written monuments as the memorable reign of Trajan. We are so much the slaves of accidental associations, so apt to draw lines at some altogether unreasonable point, that we may doubt whether the reign of Trajan holds the place which it should hold in popular imagination. Suetonius wrote the lives of Twelve Cæsars, and this mere accident has caused the notion of a break which has no real existence between the Suetonian Twelve and those who next followed them. The reign of Trajan marks the Empire at its highest pitch of extent and power, at that highest pitch which, in its own nature, comes just before the beginning of decay. His days saw, too, the highest pitch of architectural magnificence; and with Tacitus and Juvenal to adorn it, one might be inclined to say that, as an age of Latin literature, the age of Trajan might hold its own against any earlier period of the Imperial rule. For we must remember that the great writers of the early days of Augustus are in truth writers of the republican period living on into the Empire. The Flavian period, continued under Trajan, is quite as rich as the earlier days of the Empire itself. And we may notice that the arch of Beneventum marks the reign of Trajan, and with it the Roman Empire, at what was really its highest point. It was raised at a time when it could commemorate conquered Dacia and tributary Armenia. That Dacia and Armenia could be brought within the range of that Roman world which is continued in the system of modern Europe is proved by daily witnesses. But the arch of Beneventum was built too early to commemorate its hero's later victories in the further East, momentary victories in lands which neither Alexander nor Trajan could bring within the abiding range of Western influences.

The arch of Trajan is so distinctly the most famous thing in Benevento that it has carried us out of all chronological order. But the historical interest of Beneventum lies earlier and later than Trajan's day. In truth the _Pax Romana_ forbade that the main interest of any Italian city should lie in Trajan's day. We may believe or not as we please in the presence of Diomêdês and Æneas; but Pyrrhos, Hanno, Totilas, and Manfred are visitors who cannot be forgotten. The city has looked out on many battles, from the overthrow of the Molossian to the overthrow of the Swabian. A pleasing tale in its history is when that Tiberius Gracchus who is the first of a name to appear in Roman history led back his victorious slave-soldiers to receive the reward of freedom, and to be welcomed by the rejoicing people of the faithful colony. For among the Thirty Cities of those days, the Latin colony of Beneventum was not one of the laggard twelve, but one of the faithful eighteen that were ready to endure all hardships. In later warfare the city seems to have been less steadfast. It welcomed Belisarius, and in after days Totilas took it without any trouble, and if he destroyed the walls it was not out of revenge for any resistance on the part of its inhabitants, but for fear they should supply a post of defence for an imperial army. But the greatest day of Beneventum as an historical city comes later than Totilas and earlier than Manfred. The memory of that day may be studied in the chief remaining buildings in the city, the two greatest churches and the castle. The west front of the metropolitan church, a grand example of Italian Romanesque, is furthermore a perfect chronicle of local history. There we may read, built up into the wall, a crowd of monumental records of the Lombard princes of Beneventum, with their deeds, especially their dealings with the dangerous power of the Franks, set forth at length. The bronze doors are famous, with their long array of Scriptural subjects ending in a lesson in the ecclesiastical geography of the province, the figures of the Archbishop of Beneventum and his suffragans. The harmony of the front is a little marred by the single low and massive corner-tower; but the inscription sums up the history of Beneventum, political and physical, for some ages. The city was laid waste by the Emperor Frederick in 1229 and by an earthquake in 1688. The tower was built after the first overthrow in 1279; it was restored after the second in 1690. Destruction wrought by the elements would thus seem to be more easily repaired than destruction wrought by the hand of Cæsar. But it is somewhat strange to find Frederick, in his own belief a successor of Trajan, a follower of Trajan in Eastern conquests, branded as a destroyer in the city where Trajan's memory is cherished. But Frederick had to deal with a kind of power which Trajan knew not. The wrath of the later Emperor fell on a city which was too faithful to the Roman Bishop. The course of Trajan's rule was not likely to be interfered with either by the obscure chief of the persecuted Christian sect, or by any minister of the creed of which Trajan was himself chief Pontiff.

Within the church the repairs done after the earthquake have wrought a good deal of mischief. But we can still see the four ranges of columns of a mighty basilica which must once have taken its place among the noblest of its class. Their capitals are a little nondescript; but they do not offend the eye; if they were certified to be of Trajan's day, it would doubtless be the right thing to admire them. The ambones and the Easter-light are lovely work of the early fourteenth century, the days of a real _Renaissance_, truer than that which followed. The treasury is rich in vestments and other precious things; but the reader of Anselm's _Life_ looks in vain for that specially gorgeous vestment which a Beneventan Archbishop of the eleventh century bore away from Canterbury in exchange for the arm of St. Bartholomew, and which made its wearer the most splendid object among the assembled fathers at Bari. If this missing garment carries our thoughts to England, the round church of St. Sophia--hexagonal in its inner range--carries us to the Eastern world, and reminds us that there was more than one line of successors of Trajan, and that Beneventum came under the influences of both. The cloister, with its amazing series of capitals, its birds, its elephants, its hunting scenes, may rank with those of Aosta and of Arles, of which that of Aosta can supply camels to match the Beneventan elephants. The castle dates only from Pope John the Twenty-second, far away at Avignon; we look perhaps more carefully at the older fragments built up in its walls and on the lion in front of it. With the lion in our thoughts we may look out for other beasts, graven or molten or abiding in their own relics. Procopius saw there the tusks of the Kalydonian boar, as in later times he might, either at Warwick or at Bristol, have seen the ribs of the dun cow. It is for palæontologists to say what it was that the Beneventan antiquaries really showed him. Failing this natural wonder we go to pay our respects to another beast whose shape is due to man's device, in quite another part of the city. A rudely carved bovine animal, in which local patriotism sees the Samnite bull--the bull which, on the coins of revived Samnium, so proudly trampled down the Roman wolf--is now cruelly to be ruled as nothing better than a monument of intruding Apis-worship. We have less time to spend at Benevento than at some other cities; but the Roman arches and vaults of the strange building called _Quaranta Santi_, the grand Roman bridge below, must not be forgotten, and we must still give one more thought to the two mighty men whose hopes were shattered at Beneventum. Manfred fell with his faithful Saracens around him; Pyrrhos lived to fall by a meaner end at Argos; but Beneventum ended the real career of both. It is strange how the two were in some sort the converse of each other. Pyrrhos carried the Epeirot arms into Sicily and southern Italy; Manfred, lord of Sicily and southern Italy, established a Sicilian dominion on the coast of Epeiros. Korkyra, Corfu, the island which has seen every master except the Turk, formed part of the dominions of both alike. We leave Benevento for another city in which the East and the West of Europe, and a crowd of other elements besides, meet yet more closely than they do at Benevento. At Beneventum the eye of Horace began to be caught by the well-known mountains of Apulia; Procopius somewhat boldly speaks of inland Beneventum as being opposite to Dalmatia. The city which we take as our next chief goal, if not strictly opposite to Dalmatia, is so marked as being opposite to one Illyrian port as to have sent its name, so to speak, across the Hadriatic. We will not trouble ourselves to look out for Equotuticum, or to regale ourselves with either the bread or the water of Canusium. It is to the walls of Bari, fishy Bari, that we have to make our way; at Bari, Greek, Latin, Saracen, even Englishman, are all at home, and Bari is opposite to Antivari.

VIII. Norman Buildings in Apulia.

At Foggia the line of railway which crosses the Italian peninsula from Naples eastward joins the great European line which for the most part skirts the Western Hadriatic shore. From Rome itself the _iter ad Brundisium_ is still made by way of Beneventum; for the great mass of mankind Bologna has in this matter supplanted Beneventum and Rome too. Our eastward course across the peninsula has done for us much the same as would be done by the like course across our own island. We have undergone the same change as if we had passed from Wales, Devonshire, or Cumberland, to Lincolnshire or East-Anglia. We need no longer look out for hill-cities, where the first element in such cities, the hills themselves, is not to be found. At Foggia we have not even the amount of hill which we have at Benevento. We are in the great Apulian plain, the plain so precious for sheep-feeding, and the occupation of which has more than once given rise to wars and treaties. Of Foggia itself many perhaps have never heard except as a railway junction. Yet Foggia has a history, and its history has monuments, though we can hardly put them on a level with the monuments and the history of Beneventum. The capital of Apulia, the representative of ancient Arpi, has a history in some respects the same as that of Beneventum, in some other respects its opposite. Both cities claimed Diomêdês as a founder, while Frederick the Second, a destroyer at Benevento, appears as a later founder at Foggia. One arch of his palace still remains, with an inscription telling us how under him Foggia became a royal and Imperial seat. There died his English Empress Isabel, on the splendour of whose passage on her way to her marriage our own historians are eloquent. Further than this, the monumental attractions of Foggia hardly go beyond what is left of its chief church. Of its front Gsell-fels, gives a somewhat ideal engraving, showing it, not as it is, but as it was before earthquakes and restorers after earthquakes had combined to mar it. It was--indeed, with all mutilations, it still is--a fine front of the later Italian Romanesque, with one of the rose or wheel windows which we must now look for wherever we go. More attractive perhaps is the crypt, with its four columns and capitals of singular beauty. They surely belong to the time of the Imperial patron of Foggia, marking as they do a kind of earlier and more healthy _Renaissance_, which, taking classical form as its general models, took them only as general models, and did not deem itself bound slavishly to copy every turn of a leaf or every section of a moulding. Such works of the carver's tool are akin to those noble coins of Frederick which seem ages in advance of anything that bore the image and superscription of his grandfather.

Foggia is however less likely to strike the traveller--at least the traveller who comes from the hill-towns by way of Capua and Benevento--by any remarkable store of ancient monuments, than as being the first to which he will come of a series of cities, most of which at once impress the visitor by their air of modern progress and prosperity. The heel of Italy, in its cities at least, certainly seems to be the very opposite to a decaying region, or even to a region which stands still. To be sure, the city whose name is the most familiar of all is something of an exception; Brindisi, notwithstanding its dealings with the whole world, is not as Bari or even as Trani. But most of the towns at which we tarry, or which we pass by, give quite a different impression. We cannot tarry at all. At Barletta we get only a glimpse of the Imperial colossus, and therefore we do not venture to hazard a guess whether it is Heraclius or any later prince whom it represents. Along this coast, any Cæsar of the East is in his place, if only as a memorial of the long, though half forgotten, time when Southern Italy bowed to the New Rome and not to the Old. But we do not let these earlier memories wholly shut out the thought of the later combat when the Horatii and Curiatii of legend found themselves multiplied by a process exactly opposite to decimation. The attractions of Trani are irresistible; a bell-tower rising as proudly over the waves as that of Spalato itself would force us to halt even if we knew nothing before of what church and city has to show us. The metropolitan church of Trani is certainly one of the very noblest examples of that singular mixture of Norman and more strictly Italian forms--not without a touch both of the Greek and the Saracen--which is the characteristic style of this region, the natural result of its political history. Strange, but striking in the extreme, is the effect of the east end of this church rising close above the sea; far more truly admirable is the effect of the inside, where the coupled columns of the Saracen have been boldly taught to act as the piers of the great arcades, and to bear up above them a massive triforium, which by itself would make us think ourselves in Normandy or England. All the churches of this district have a good deal of their strength underground, and the under-church of Trani is worthy of the building which it supports. The smaller church, All Saints', a charming little basilica with a portico of singular grace, as also several good pieces of domestic architecture, and the general effect of the tower skirted with its dark arcades, all join to make Trani a place which cannot be passed by, though no august form calls on us, as at Barletta, to tarry to pay Cæsar his due homage. But Trani has found something to be said for itself both by pen and by pencil in quite other company. An accident of later times gave it a right to rank, like Brindisi itself, among the Subject and Neighbour Lands of Venice. And Trani has peculiarities of its own. The main features of the style may be studied elsewhere. We long to see Barletta, to tarry to pay Cæsar his due. We long to stop at Bisceglia and Molfetta, of which we read attractive notices; but again we must pick and choose, and Bitonto is the only place on which we can qualify ourselves to speak at all at large, till we come to the head of the whole region at Bari.

Bitonto shares a station with San Spirito, but it lies further away from the railway, and that on the inland side, than most of the towns along this line. Its main interest is found in its cathedral church, which in some points prepares us for the buildings of Bari. First of all in point of wonder, though latest in point of date, is the treatment which it has undergone at the hands of modern improvers. A dim remembrance comes to us that we saw something of the same kind in the Dominican church at Perugia; otherwise we ask in amazement why any man should think it an improvement to cut off the whole upper part of a church as seen inside by thrusting in a roof a great deal lower than the original one, and thereby leaving the upper stages outside to stand up in the air, serving no kind of purpose. Yet this has been done both at Bitonto and at Bari. Yet perchance the improvers of modern times might retort on the original architects, and ask why, when they had made three apses at the east end, they presently built up a wall to hide them. This is the arrangement both at Bitonto and in the two great churches of Bari. The notion of Normans working in Italy would almost seem to have been to make an Italian front at one end, and something approaching to a Norman front at the other end. Thus the church of Bitonto has an excellent west front of Italian outline, with details more Italian than Norman, and with the characteristic round window evidently designed from the beginning, though the one which is actually there must be of later date. Also there either has been or has been meant to be a portico over the lower stage of the west front, a thoroughly Italian notion. But the east end takes almost the form of a Norman west front; a Norman founder, it would seem, was not happy unless he could somewhere or other get two towers with an ornamental wall between them. To this end the apses are sacrificed. Instead of the three curved projections which form the main features of so many Italian, German, and indeed Norman, east ends, the whole east end is flat. The side apses are disguised by towers, one only of which is carried up to any height, while the great apse is hidden by the wall between the towers. Herein is the difference between Bitonto and Trani. At Trani there are no eastern towers, and the apses, though of amazing external height and no less amazing slightness of projection, are still real apses with a real curve. At Bitonto no one could know from the outside that there were any apses at all. As the ordinary ranges of arcades and windows are thus made impossible, the architect, like an English architect some generations later, threw his strength into a single east window, and certainly made one as large and as rich as was possible before the invention of tracery. An elaborate round-headed opening is covered with rich devices, and has wonderful monsters to bear up its side-shafts. This too is to be seen at Trani, and we shall come again to other examples at Bari. There is something very strange in these attempts to reconcile the ideas of Normandy and of Italy in one building. But in these flat east ends the result is that we get something which is certainly neither Italian nor Norman, and which can hardly be approved according to any law of either reality or beauty.

The same spirit of compromise goes on in other parts. The endless columns of the under-church supply a rich study of capitals, largely of the grotesque kind. Men, monkeys, the original ram's horn, leaves, the Imperial eagle--better suited for the purpose than anything else--all do duty as volutes. The columns in the upper-church too give another rich collection of various kinds of human, animal, and vegetable forms. But here a soberer spirit reigns; though perhaps no one capital is strictly classical, yet the grotesque does not reign as it does below. Three arches from columns, a solid block, three more arches from columns, make up the nave. Over these Italian elements Norman taste set a triforium; modern taste has hidden the clerestory. Outside, the Italian has his way in the rich open arcades of the parapets and in the windows of various forms, filled, some of them, with that kind of pierced tracery which is neither Italian nor Norman, but distinctively Oriental, and which look as if they had come--as they possibly may have come--from a mosque.

Altogether there is something singularly interesting in this mixture of styles--more strictly this mixture of two varieties of the same style, for Italian and Norman Romanesque are after all members of one great artistic family. Nothing of the kind happened in Sicily, where the Norman kings simply set native craftsmen, Greek and Saracen, to build for them after their several native fashions. Here, in a land where Greek and Latin elements were striving for mastery, where the Saracen was a mere occasional visitor, the Norman brought in the ideas of his own land to make a new element. But, if nothing like this happened in Sicily, something a little like it did happen in England. There is no doubt that Norman architecture was influenced, though very slightly, by the earlier native style of England, a rude imitation of Italian models. That Norman architecture in Apulia should be far more deeply influenced by the Italian models themselves was but carrying out the same general process, as was only natural, in a far greater degree.

IX. Bari.

We are now at Barium, Bari, the original Bari of the West, as distinguished from the Bari, _Bar_, _Antibaris_, _Antivari_, which repeats its name on the opposite coast. There we can now again, as we could have done seventy years back at Cattaro, land at a Montenegrin haven. The distinction between the two bearers of the name of Bari implies an association which is not out of place. The historic interest of Bari gathers wholly round its connexion with the lands on the other side of Hadria. In earlier days the place has really no history whatever. Its most memorable day was when the powers of the Eastern and Western Empires--powers which perhaps never again worked in such harmony--were needed to dislodge a Saracen Sultan from its walls. "Emir," some one will say, not "Sultan," and certainly we are more used in Europe to Sultans of much later date than the days of Lewis the Second and Basil the First, Sultans coming from quite other lands than any that can have sent forth the Mussulman prince of Bari. But he is called Sultan as well as Emir by his one biographer, the Emperor Constantine, and we cannot appeal from those august pages which still form the best guide-book to the eastern shores of the Hadriatic. Anyhow, the Sultan of Bari was a philosopher; he never laughed, except once when he saw a wheel go round; for that reminded him of the ups and downs of his own fortunes. Then Bari passes to the rule of the Eastern Empire; instead of a Sultan it has a Katapan, representative of the Eastern Augustus in that Italian dominion which had become so small at the beginning of the ninth century, and which was so great again at its end. Threatened again at the beginning of the eleventh century by new Saracen invaders, it is guarded by the fleets of Venice, still the faithful vassal of Constantinople against a common enemy. Seventy years later the arms of Robert Wiscard added the capital of Byzantine Italy to his Norman dominion, and before the century was out, Pope Urban, the great stirrer of the West against the Mussulman East, chose Bari as the scene of the Council called to denounce at once the practical abuses of the Christian West and the dogmatic errors of the Christian East. Once more, in the next age, we find Bari looking across the sea to its old lord, and chastised by the Sicilian king for its disloyalty. Add that Bari, before all saints, still honours St. Nicolas of the Lykian Myra, and keeps his relics sacred, we are told, from Turkish desecration by the craft of merchants of her own city. Altogether Bari seems, at least in its history, as much Greek as Italian or Norman. It would seem neither unnatural nor unpleasant if Greek were still the tongue of the seafaring folk of Bari, much as a Norman in his own land often carries an air about him which would make Danish seem a much more natural speech for him than French.

But the great buildings of Bari belong to that mixed Norman and Italian style of which we have already seen something at Bitonto. The architectural attractions of the city are chiefly to be found in two great churches and one smaller one. The castle, standing by the sea, should have its landward side walked round, and the walk will reveal much of picturesque outline and a little of good detail. But it is the churches, above all the great abbey of St. Nicolas, which are the glory of Bari. They all lie in the old town by the sea, the old town of narrow and crooked streets, in which it does not much matter which way you go; you are sure to come either to the castle or to one of the churches before very long. Very different are things in the new town, which we may rejoice in as we look at it as a sign of Bari's abiding or renewed prosperity, but which can raise no feelings of pleasure on any other ground. Its streets, crossing each other at right angles, are indeed carefully dedicated to the worthies of Bari; but, unless we can always remember which of several perhaps not very familiar worthies watches over each of several angles which are exactly alike, it is easy to take a wrong turn and to put oneself under the care of Andrew of Bari when we ought rather to be commending ourselves to Robert. And under either protection we yearn in the wide straight streets for some physical shelter from the Apulian sun, and wonder why modern Rome, modern Athens, and modern Bari should have so much less common sense than Bologna, Padua, and Corfu had in days long past. Still, amid this rectangular labyrinth the sea is a help on one side, while on another the tall tower of the metropolitan church of St. Sabinus beckons us into the older streets, whose narrowness and crookedness at least supply shade. That tower, one of the tallest and stateliest of Italy, we naturally assume to be a detached campanile, without a fellow and standing apart from its confederate buildings, church and baptistery. So it doubtless would be in a purely Italian city; but here we are in the city where the Norman displaced the Greek. The two great churches of Bari, like that of Bitonto, have their towers wrought into the building in Norman fashion, and at the _duomo_ the great round baptistery is also merged in the same mass with the church and its towers. Both of the great churches of Bari have east ends of the same kind as that at Bitonto; the apses are swallowed up; the place where the great apse should be is marked by a single splendid Romanesque window. The eastern towers of St. Nicolas have never been carried up; at St. Sabinus the southern one has perished, but the northern one still soars in all its majesty, thoroughly Italian in its conception, but rather to be called Norman in its detail. St. Nicolas has also another pair of unfinished towers at its west end, standing at once beyond the aisles as at Wells and Rouen, and in front of them as at Holyrood. They flank a grand Italian front which one would think would be finer without them. These western towers are absent in the metropolitan church; but that has a most perfect octagonal cupola over the crossing, the grouping of which with the two lofty eastern towers, if there was any point from which it could really be seen, must have been wonderful. Thus, in both churches, something of a German outline has either been consciously brought in or has been incidentally stumbled on. The four towers of St. Nicolas, the octagon and eastern tower of St. Sabinus, will easily find Rhenish fellows, though we should perhaps have to go as far as Angoulême for a single tower of equal majesty mourning over a vanished brother. In other points the external arrangements of the two great churches of Bari have much in common. The rose windows, the coupled windows, the blank arcades, are much the same in both. So is the choice of animal forms for the fanciful supports of columns. In most places the lion discharges that function--in a building designed by lions we should doubtless see something different. So we do here at Bari, where the solid forms of the _pachydermata_ are, perhaps discreetly, preferred to the lighter _carnivora_. The elephant, we think, is to be found in both churches, and the huge earth-shaking beast is represented so as to remind us both of Pyrrhos and of Hannibal; some have the smaller ear of India, some the larger of Africa. The hippopotamus appears only in the west front of St. Nicolas. Had the daring shipfolk who bore away the saint's bones from Lykia made their way to the Nile also?

When we pass the threshold of the two buildings we see that their fate in modern times has been very different. St. Sabinus has suffered much as Bitonto has suffered. The upper part of the building is hidden in just the same fashion, and ugly tricks have been played with the columns and their capitals. St. Nicolas, on the other hand, has been left comparatively alone. The chief changes which it has undergone must have taken place not very long after the original building. The original plan was much the same as that of Bitonto--three arches from columns, a massive pier, then three more arches from columns. But this arrangement was disturbed at an early time by throwing three spanning arches across the nave. The effect is so striking that we can hardly regret their presence; but it is perfectly easy to see that they are insertions, and, though they are essentially of the same style, yet they differ in their details from the original columns. These last all approach more or less to the Corinthian type; in the under-church the patterns are more varied. Here are still the wonder-working relics of St. Nicolas, and the balsam or "manna" which flows from them may still be drunk. In the _duomo_ the under-church has been restored out of all ancient character, but it still keeps an ancient Byzantine picture.

As so often happens, the secondary church of Bari altogether surpassed the mother church in historic fame and local honour. To ourselves the fact in its history which comes home most nearly is that it was here that Urban held his Council, here that Anselm, to the satisfaction of all Western minds, refuted the creed of the East, here that he interceded with the Pontiff and the assembled fathers on behalf of the king who had wronged him. Here too it was that the keen eye of English Eadmer spied out on the shoulders of the Archbishop of Beneventum the splendid cope which is no longer to be seen at Beneventum. Such little touches in those days often brought the ends of the world together in a way to which, in our days of more general intercourse, nothing answers. When French was the polite language alike at Dunfermline and at Jerusalem, when the Latin-speaking clerk was at home in any corner of the West, when the few men of the West who had learned Greek spoke it so that a Greek could understand them, when men passed to and fro between the civil services of England and Sicily, communication between distant parts of Europe was in some ways easier than it is now. Bari, one of the chief places for setting out on crusades, must for a long time have been a thoroughly cosmopolitan city. We do feel that the ends of the earth have combined to meet at Bari, when we find the place of honour in the church of St. Nicolas at Bari held by a princess of Bari, who became Queen of the greatest Slavonic kingdom. Emblematic figures of Bari and Poland support the tomb of Queen Bona, and her epitaph describes her husband Sigismund, the first of that name, as not only the mighty King of Poland, but Grand-Duke of Lithuania, Russia, Prussia, Mazovia, and Samogitia. Yet we might have lighted on Slavonic associations earlier on the road. There is a strange record of a Bulgarian settlement in the parts of Beneventum; but that would take us yet further afield: it was before Bulgarians became Slavonic. But what are we to say to the Samnite _Schiavia_ which sheltered Anselm?

The journey is done--

"Brundisium longæ finis cartæque viæque."

Otranto lies yet further; but Otranto, yet more notably than Bari, comes within the Venetian _Notitia_. So does Brundisium, city of the stag's horn, of the haven so aptly called, if we only knew in what tongue it is that _Brentesium_ has that meaning. But we are tempted to regret that Brindisi and not Otranto is the point for which Hadria has to be crossed. Brindisi has no moral claim. We cannot look thence, as we can from Otranto, upon the mountains of still enslaved Epeiros; no one is tempted even to dream that he looks on free Corfu or on the lesser satellite that stands in front as its outpost.

INDEX.

A

_Alatri_, its alliance with Rome, 206; its special interest
to be found in its primæval remains, 207; not named in the
Itineraries, _ib._; its walls, 209, 212 _et seq._; position
of the _arx_, 210, 213; its cathedral church on the site of
the primæval temple, 211, 212, 219; gateway of the _arx_,
215; contrasted with Mykênê, 216; mediæval remains at,
298; church of Sta. Maria Maggiore at, _ib._; its domestic
architecture, _ib._

_Alba_, its destruction, 110, 112, 120; use of the name,
_ib._; Roman villas at, 111, 112; analogy of its relation to
Albano with that of Spalato and Salona, 112. See _Albano_.

_Alban Lake_, the, 110, 114, 119, 165

_Alban Mount_, the, 110, 119, 165; remains of temple of
Jupiter Latiaris on, 111, 122, 142

_Albania_, use of the name, 108, 109

_Albano_ (Alba), imperial dwelling-place, 112; its relation
to Alba contrasted with that of Spalato and Salona, _ib._;
tomb of Pompeius at, 113; so-called tomb of Aruns at, _ib._

_Ἀλβανοί_, use of the name, 109, 110, 222

_Albanum_. See _Albano_.

_Alexander III._, Pope, consecrated at Ninfa, 147

_Anagni_ (Anagnia), its position beyond Rome, 167; the city
of Boniface VIII., 168; the halting-place of Pyrrhos and
Hannibal, 169; head of the Hernican confederation, _ib._,
172; joins the Triple League, 172; physical position of, 173;
its ancient walls, _ib._; how they differ from those at Cori
and Segni, 174, 175, 179; Hernican Anagnia not in Macaulay's
catalogues, 174; variety of construction in its walls,
175-177; question as to their earliest date, 177-180; decline
of its power, 179; separate wall of the _arx_, 180; special
character of derived from its walls, _ib._, 181; historically
famous for its mediæval Popes, 181; rich mediæval remains in,
_ib._, 182; compared with Avignon, 181; cathedral church at,
183; the _Locanda d'Italia_ no longer exists at, 219

_Ancona_, triumphal arch of Trajan at, 268

_Anselm_, at Telesia, 256; defends the _Filioque_ at the
Council of Bari, 305; sheltered at _Schiavia_, 307

_Antemnæ_, lack of remains at, 88, 94-96; its legendary
story, 92; derivation of its name, 93

_Antivari_, Eastern Bari, 280, 295

_Anxur_ (Terracina), 120, 121, 128

_Appian Way_, the, its namesake at Perugia, 28; remains of,
115; arch of Trajan at Beneventum commemorates the repair of,
269

_Apulia_, plain of, 251, 282; mixture of architectural styles
in, 293, 294

_Aquileia_, its special position in history, 239, 240

_Arch_, the, early striving after, at Norba, 145; at Signia,
160-162; its principle known at Anagni, 175, 179, 180; the
true form not found at Alatri, 215; the pointed arch in
Southern Italy, Sicily, and Aquitaine Romanesque, not Gothic,
243

_Arches_, triumphal, their purely monumental character, 268,
269

_Arco Gotico_, at Tusculum, origin of the name, 161, 162

_Arezzo_, its historical and physical position, 1-7, 13; its
Medicean walls, 4, 5; lack of domestic architecture in, 8;
the _Duomo_ and church of Sta. Maria della Pieve, 6, 7, 9-11

_Aricia_, old and new, 114, 115, 126, 165

_Arles_, Roman theatre at, compared with that at Ostia, 103

_Assisi_, præ-Franciscan, its analogy with præ-academic
Oxford, 48; the birth-place of Propertius and Metastasio, 48,
49; Roman and mediæval remains in, 49, 52-57; its physical
position, 50-52; so-called temple of Minerva at, 52-54; its
dedication to Castor and Pollux, _ib._; Roman inscriptions,
54

_Athens_, her sea-port of later origin than Ostia, 99

_Aurelius_, Marcus, Emperor, at Anagnia, 178

_Aversa_, Norman county of, 241

_Avignon_, its papal buildings compared with those of Anagni,
181

B

_Bari_, Western, as opposed to Antivari, 279, 280, 295; under
Mussulman rule, 296; won back by both Empires in 871, _ib._;
under the Eastern Empire, _ib._; protected by Venice, 297;
Norman conquest of, _ib._; council at, held by Pope Urban,
_ib._, 305; Greek character of, 298; mixed Norman and Italian
style of architecture in, _ib._; Abbey of St. Nicolas and
cathedral church of St. Sabinus at, 299-305; its cosmopolitan
character, 306; tomb of Bona, Queen of Poland, in church of
St. Nicolas, 306, 307

_Barletta_, 285, 287

_Basilicas_, 238-241

_Belisarius_, at Beneventum, 273

_Beneventum_ (Benevento), the battle-ground of Pyrrhos and
Manfred, 262, 272, 278; its position in history, 264 _et.
seq._; principality of, _ib._; Lombardy duchy of, 266;
papal possession of, _ib._; its change of name, _ib._, 267;
described by Procopius, _ib._, 279; arch of Trajan at, 268,
271, 272; among the Thirty Cities, 273; Belisarius at, _ib._;
taken by Totilas, _ib._; monumental records preserved in its
metropolitan church, _ib._, 274; overthrown by Frederick the
Second, 274, 275; Canterbury cope worn by archbishop of, 276,
305; the castle, 277; _Quaranta Santi_, 278

_Bitonto_, mixture of Norman and Italian elements in its
cathedral church, 288-294

_Bona_, wife of Sigismund, King of Poland, her tomb at Bari,
306, 307

_Boniface VIII._, Pope, his end at Anagni, 164, 168; his
vestments kept at Anagni, 183

_Brundisium_ (Brindisi), 285; final point in the journey of
Horace and Mæcenas, 307; whence the meaning of _Brentesium_?
_ib._, 308

_Bunbury_, Sir E. H., on Anagnia, 177

C

_Calor_ (Calore), tributary stream of Vulturnus, 256, 264

_Campo di Annibale_, 119, 122

_Capua_ (Vulturnum), old and new, 226, 227, 240;
amphitheatre, 227-229; contrasted with the Roman coliseum,
228, 229; date of the ancient city, 230; its Roman
citizenship, 231; its revolt, 232; Roman conquest of, _ib._,
242; taken by the Saracens, _ib._

_Caserta_, 226, 227

_Casilinum_, new Capua, ancient Capua moved to, 226, 232,
241; Norman principality of, 241, 242

_Cassius_, Spurius, wins over Anagnia to the Triple League,
170, 172

_Castel Gandolfo_, 118, 119

_Castel Giubeleo_, 77, 83. See _Fidenæ_.

_Castiglione Fiorentino_, 13

_Chiana_, tributary of the Arno, 3; valley of the, local
tradition assigned to its fossil elephants, 8, 9

_Circeii_ (Monte Circello), 120, 128, 143

_Colline Gate_, the, its historical associations, 79-81, 259,
261

_Constantine Porphyrogenêtos_, his description of the Sultan
of Bari, 296

_Cora_ (Cori), its primæval walls, 129, 132, 166, 174; later
walls, 131; temple of Hercules, 132, 133, 166; supplanted by
church of St. Peter, 132, 134, 135; church of St. Oliva at,
135; its physical position contrasted with Norba, 140, 141

_Corinth_, later stage of her havens, 98; her colonies,
_ib._, 99

_Cortona_, its physical position compared with that of
Argos and Corinth, 13, 14; compared with Perugia, Laon, and
Girgenti, _ib._; owes its distinctive character to its walls,
15, 16, 19-21; its early greatness, 15; its decline, 16;
ecclesiastical and municipal buildings in, 17-19; Mykênaian
character of its Etruscan gate, 20; the Etruscan Muse, 21,
22; contrasted with Perugia, 23-28

_Cosmo de' Medici_, Duke of Florence and Siena, his
inscription at Arezzo, 6; his later title, _ib._

_Creighton_, M. (present Bishop of Peterborough), quoted, 123

D

_Documents_, official, errors in, 200, 201

E

_Eadmer_, at Bari, 305

_Emissarius_, the, of the Alban Lake, 117; contrasted with
that of the Fucine Lake, _ib._

_Etruscans_, their cities remain free until the days of
Sulla, 20; their analogy with Freemasons, 34, 35; their
tongue remains a riddle, 36; their sculpture derives more
force from the absence of literature, 37-40; analogy of
Etruscan and Roman change of nomenclature with English and
Norman, 43, 44; Christian and modern character of their
sculpture, 44, 45

F

_Felimna_, Avle, Etruscan tomb of, 42, 43, 197

_Ferentinum_ (Ferentino), whether a Thirty-city, 186, 187,
188; its position, 188; its walls and gateways, 189-192, 202;
monument of Aulus Quinctilius at, 193; question as to the
date of its walls, 194 _et seq._; inscriptions on the _arx_,
195, 197; alliance of with Rome, 198, 199, 205, 206; wrongly
called a _municipium_ by Aulus Gellius, 200, 201; cathedral
church at, 202, 205; inner buildings of the _arx_, 204;
church of Sta. Maria Maggiore, _ib._

_Fidenæ_, the ally of Veii, 78; destroyed by Rome, _ib._, 85;
position of its _arx_, 83, 84; desolation of, 85, 87

_Foggia_, the capital of Apulia, 282; palace of Frederick
_II._ at, 283; death of Empress Isabel at, _ib._; church at,
_ib._

_Frederick II._, Emperor, destroys Benevento, 274, 275;
remains of his palace at Foggia, 283

_Freemasons_, modern, their analogy with ancient Etruscans,
34, 35

_Frosinone_ (Frusino), 208

G

_Gavignano_, 155, 163, 172

_Gellius_, Aulus, his story about Ferentinum, 199

_Girgenti_, compared with Cortona, 14

_Gracchus_, Gaius, his speech quoted by Aulus Gellius, 199

_Gracchus_, Tiberius, his reception at Beneventum, 272, 273

_Gregoriopolis_, 105

_Gsell-fels_, guidebook of, referred to, 59, 152, 167, 283

H

_Hannibal_, son of Hamilkar Barak, at Anagnia, 169, 179; at
Capua, 226, 236; revolt of the city to, from Rome, 232, 234;
his camp at Tifata, 233, 234; scanty records concerning, 235

_Harpur_, Sir William, Aulus Quinctilius compared to, 192

_Hernicans_, the, scanty records concerning, 170, 255;
importance of their geographical position, 170, 171, 172

_Hirtius_, Aulus, censor of Ferentinum, 197, 199, 202

I

_Innocent III._, Pope, his birthplace, whether at Segni or
Gavignano, 163; his vestments kept at Anagni, 183

_Isabel_, wife of Frederick II., dies at Foggia, 283

_Italy_, Southern, a part of Hellas, 224, 225; use of the
pointed arch in, 243; interest maintained in its cities, 284

K

_Korkyra_ (Corfu), held by Pyrrhos and Manfred, 279; never
under the Turk, _ib._, 308

L

_Laon_, compared with Cortona, 14

_Lollius_, Marcus, censor of Ferentinum, 197, 199, 202

M

_Macaulay_, Lord, his verses on the Thirty Cities, 151, 152;
Signia not named by, _ib._; Anagnia not in his catalogues,
174; whether Ferentinum is rightly placed by, 187;
fittingness of his epithet for Ferentinum, 188

_Manfred_, King of Sicily, 253, 262, 272, 278, 279

_Marcellus_, Marcus Claudius, his triumph by the Alban Mount,
111, 166

_Marcius_, Ancus, traditional founder of Ostia, 97, 98

_Maxim_, Volscian or Hernican, on beggars, 220

_Member of Parliament_, misuse of the name, 201

_Milvian Bridge_, the, its historical associations, 89

_Monte Cavo_, see _Alban Mount_.

_Monte Parioli_, 91

_Muse_, the, of Cortona, 21, 22

N

_Nemi_, Lake of, 114-116, 234, 235

_Ninfa_, 126, 140, 142, 146; its striking desolation,
146-150, 166; its mediæval wall, 147

_Norba_, its ancient wall, 137 _et seq._, 147, 149, 166;
its position contrasted with Cora, 140, 141; early strivings
after the arch at, 145

_Norma_, 140-142

O

_Opus Signinum_, theory suggested as to its origin, 152

_Ostia_, the haven of Rome, 96, 97, 99, 121; its traditional
foundation, 98; an integral part of Rome, 99, 100; its
remains endangered by the Tiber, 100, 101, 106, 107;
contrasted with Pompeii, 101, 102; _not_ destroyed by the
Saracens in the fifth century, 102; Roman remains in, 103;
how described by Procopius, _ib._; its early walls, 104; new
Ostia, 105

_Otranto_, the entrance-place of the Turk into Western
Europe, 223; view of enslaved Epeiros from, 307

_Oxford_, præ-academic, its importance, 47; its analogy with
præ-Franciscan Assisi, 48

P

_Parthenôn_, the, its continuance as such, 237

_Perugia_, contrasted with Cortona, 23-28; its historical
position, 23-25; physical position, 26; walls of, _ib._, 28;
Roman gateways at, 28-31; barbarous treatment of mediæval
houses in, 31; the interest of its churches not only due to
their paintings, 31-33

_Pius IX._, Pope, his viaduct between Albano and Aricia, 114

_Pompeii_, contrasted with Ostia, 101, 102

_Pompeius Magnus_, Cnæus, his villa and tomb at Alba, 111,
113

_Pomptine Marshes_, the, 128

_Ponte Sodo_, the, at Veii, 74

_Pontius_, Gaius, spares the Roman army in the second Samnite
War, 257, 262; whether the Pontius of the triumph of Quintus
Fabius, 258, 259

_Porta Saracenesca_, at Segni, 157, 159; shows the arch in
its constructive form, 160-161; origin of its name uncertain,
161, 162

_Portus_, harbour of Rome transferred to, from Ostia, 102

_Procopius_, his description of Ostia, 103; of Beneventum,
267, 279

_Puff-stone_ of Gloucestershire, its likeness to the stone of
Anagnia's walls, 176

_Pyrrhos_, King of Epeiros, 169, 179, 262, 272, 278, 279

Q

_Quinctilius_, Aulus, his foundation of nuts to Ferentinum,
192; his monument, 193

R

_Robert_, son of Godwin, his analogy to Publius Volumnius,
son of Felimna, 44

_Robert Wiscard_, takes Bari, 297

_Rocca di Papa_, 119

_Roman_, use of the word, 194, 197, 202

_Roman Empire_, the, important era marked by Trajan's reign,
270, 271

_Rome_, how her local history should be studied, 67; rivalry
of Veii with, 69-72; her conquest of Veii, 68, 75, 76; her
origin, 70, 72, 143; Fidenæ destroyed by, 78, 85; taken by
Alaric, 80; her incorporation of Antemnæ with, 92; her haven
of Ostia, 96, 97, 99; contrasted with Corinth and Athens, 98,
99; her harbour removed from Ostia to Portus, 102; Alba Longa
destroyed by, 110, 120; her physical and historical position,
119-122; alliance of Ferentinum with, 198, 199, 205; her
arbitrary dealing with her Italian allies, 199, 200; her
wars with the Samnites, 251, 252; her army spared by Gaius
Pontius, 257; final struggle of the Samnites against, 259-261

_Ῥωμαῖοι_, use of the name, 109, 110

S

_Saint Ambrose_, cathedral church of Ferentino dedicated to,
204

_Saint Angelo in Formis_, basilica of, near Capua, 238, 240
_et seq._; frescoes at, 247-249

_Saint Apollinaris in Classe_, basilica of, 240

_Saint Francis of Assisi_, 48, 49

_Saint Nicolas_ of Myra in Lykia, patron saint of Bari, 297,
298

_Saint Peter in Grado_, basilica of, near Pisa, 238, 239,
240; contrasted with Saint Angelo in Formis, 239; frescoes
at, 247

_Salarian Gate_, the, its historical associations, 79-81

_Salona_, its relation to Spalato contrasted with that of
Alba to Albano, 112

_Samentum_, meaning of the word, 178

_Samnites_, the, 248, 251, 254, 259-262

_Schiavia_, Samnite, Anselm at, 307

_Segni_ (Signia), whether a Thirty-city? 151-154; its
physical position analogous with that of Norba, 155; the
_arx_ of Signia forms the modern _Passegiata_, 156; fragments
of mediæval work in, 157; ancient walls and gateways of,
_ib._, _et seq._, 172, 174; Roman remains on the arx, 162,
163; whether the birthplace of Innocent III., 163; _locandæ_
at, recommended by Gsell-fels, 167

_Sicily_, use of the pointed arch in, 243; the architectural
characteristics of Norman rule in Apulia not found in, 293

_Signia_. See _Segni_.

_Social War_, the, its significance, 261

_Spalato_, its relation to Salona contrasted with that of
Albano to Alba, 112

_Spello_ (Hispellum), its local description, 58; its walls
and towers, 60; Romanesque churches and Roman remains at,
61-63; Roman gateways, 63, 64

_Stewart_, Henry, Cardinal of York, temple of Jupiter
Latiaris destroyed by, 111, 166

_Strabo_, his description of Fidenæ, 85; on Ostia, 102

_Sulla_, restores Cora, 133; Norba destroyed by, 139

T

_Talleyrand_, Bishop of Autun and Prince of Benevento, 265

_Tarlati_, Guy, Bishop and Lord of Arezzo, his tomb, 7, 8

_Telesia_ (Telese), the home of Gaius Pontius, 256, 257, 262;
Anselm at, _ib._

_Terracina_. See _Anxur_.

_Thêseion_, re-dedicated to Saint George, 237

_Tiber_, the, its early importance as a boundary stream, 90;
its destructiveness, 100-103, 106, 107

_Tifata_, Hannibal at, 233, 234; meaning of the name, 234;
whether the scene of Semitic worship, 236; worship of Diana
and Jupiter at, 237; church of Sant' Angelo in Formis at,
233, 238, 240 _et seq._

_Topography_, historical, variety of interest offered by, 86

_Totilas_, Beneventum taken by, 273

_Trajan_, his arch at Rome survives in the arch of
Constantine, 267, 268; his arch at Benevento, 268-273;
important era of the Roman Empire marked by his reign, 270,
271

_Trani_, special interest of its metropolitan church, 286,
287, 290, 291; church of All Saints at, 287

U

_Urban II._, Pope, council at Bari held by, 297, 305

V

_Veii_, its site and desolation, 68, 69, 72-75, 87; conquered
by Rome, _ib._, 75; rivalry of with Rome, 69-72; Etruscan
tombs at, 74, 75

_Velletri_ (Velitræ), 126-129, 166, 167

_Venice_, vassal of the Eastern Empire, protects Bari against
the Saracen, 297

_Veroli_, 210

_Volumnian Tomb_, the, 40 _et seq._

_Volumnius Avle Felimna_, Publius, his analogy to Robert, son
of Godwin, 44, 197

W

_Willis_, Professor, his use of the phrase _mid-wall_ shaft,
245

End of Project Gutenberg's Studies of Travel: Italy, by Edward A. Freeman