In Respighi’s Footsteps – and Other Hidden Gems – Rome October 2019
A fountain splashes quietly in a park, and sunshine filters through the yellowing leaves on a late summer morning. It’s a tranquil spot in the heart of this bustling ancient city, the traffic but a distant roar. There’re a few people about, a young mother with a stroller, and four Oriental women – the first of the wakening tourists who besiege Rome in vast numbers all the year round.
I am in the Borghese Gardens, unaware of missing part of my two-hour time slot in the Borghese Gallery within this vast property. It is a villa which serves as a monument to the Borghese family which dominated the city during the 17th century. Time slots are the only way in which the crowds of art pilgrims can be managed, making their viewing of Cardinal Scipione Borghese’s magnificent collection a pleasant experience rather than the claustrophobic scrum we endured in St. Peter’s Basilica.
The Cardinal was the most ruthless art collector of his day, stopping at nothing to get what he wanted for his collection. On the ground floor there are intricate Roman floor mosaics, and sculptures including Bernini’s virtuosic Ratto di Proserpina (1621-22) and Apollo e Dafne (1622-25), and a picture gallery on the upper level.
But this morning I am on a “musical pilgrimage”, in search of the sights and sounds that inspired Impressionist composer Ottorino Respighi’s (1879-1936) pictorial and evocative tone poems The Fountains of Rome (1916) and The Pines of Rome (1924). I had also decided to avoid the most touristic hot-spots in Rome and Florence this time, apart from revisiting certain sites with my first-time visitor husband, and to seek out some “hidden gems”. These I sourced from the internet, and an excellent book titled 100 Places in Italy Every Woman Should Go, by Susan van Allen.
Respighi captures the mood of his four Fountains through colourful instrumental “tone painting”, each fountain depicted at different times of the day. I had great difficulty finding the first one – the Fountain of the Valle Giulia, and certainly didn’t manage to be there at Dawn. Thinking it to be in the Borghese Gardens, I wandered up and down several pathways, without success. A friend informed me later that it was north of my Rome map, in front of the National Gallery of Modern Art, and in a rather neglected state. 
But my wild fountain chase in the Borghese Gardens was not entirely fruitless, and I was rewarded with other lovely fountains, dancing in the dappled sunlight.
Respighi placed his first Fountain in a pastoral landscape through which cattle pass during the morning. That may have been the case long ago, but certainly is not today. Instead I was serenaded by a charming busker, his sassy saxophone competing with the birds in the trees around us. 
Bernini’s muscular Triton Fountain in the Morning was easier to locate, standing at the intersection of several busy roads including the Via delle Quattro Fontane, Via Barberini, Via del Tritone and the Via Veneto.
Commissioned by Bernini’s patron Pope Urban VIII in 1642, Piazza Barberini is today overlooked by the Hotel Bernini and the Palazzo Barberini, which now houses the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica. The Barberini metro station is also located here.
The Triton – a sea god of ancient Greco-Roman mythology – kneels on the tails of four dolphins, a conch shell raised to his lips (depicted in the music by the French horns) from which water spouts. The dolphins’ tails enclose the papal tiara, with crossed keys, and the heraldic Barberini honey bees.
This Fountain is significant for being the first of Bernini’s sculptural fountains, and for providing water from the recently restored Aqua Felice aqueduct, a cause for much celebration at the time. Before this time, public water supplies were fed to a simple basin. 17th Century engravings and 19th Century photographs of the Triton Fountain show the surrounding buildings to be much lower than they are today, and the water jet higher.
The Trevi Fountain at Noon begins in Respighi’s music with a triumphant announcement of a recent victory by the sea god Neptune. The name of the Fountain derives from Tre Vie, referring to the three roads which meet at the fountain. It was supplied by the Acqua Claudia and the Vergine Aqueduct – the revived Aqua Virgo. According to legend, in 19 BC a virgin named Trivia helped Roman engineers locate a source of pure water about 13 km from the city, a scene represented in the Fountain’s façade. The eventual indirect route of the aqueduct became 22 km in length, and supplied the Baths of Agrippa. It provided water to the city for over four centuries.
Also commissioned by Pope Urban VIII, Bernini’s most famous Fountain is an extravagant Baroque masterpiece. The architect Nicola Salva took over the project when the Pope died in 1644, using many of Bernini’s elements, and it was finally completed by Guiseppe Pannini and four other sculptors in 1762. The principal theme is “the taming of the waters”. Tritons guide Oceanus’s shell chariot, while taming two giant hippocamps, or seahorses. The backdrop is reminiscent of the splendid Baroque opera stage sets of the Baroque era, and are sumptuously grandiose in style.
Like all of Rome’s most famous sights, the Trevi Fountain was very crowded, in spite of a noonday thunderstorm that had us all scuttling for shelter. Hordes of narcissistic tourists made it impossible to take a clear photo, and so mine is lacking part of the monumental architectural structure in which it is set. In accordance with tradition, Peter, with his back turned, threw a coin over his left shoulder into the Fountain’s basin, thereby ensuring a return to the city one day. Two coins are said to ensure a return and falling in love, while three signifies return, finding love, and marriage! Each year around €1.5 million is collected from the Fountain and used to support charities that provide for the poor and homeless (it is illegal to remove the coins.) Luck or no luck, it’s good to know that our coins are going to a good cause.
The Fountain of the Villa Medici at Sunset was also difficult to locate. After traipsing up and down the Via di Porta Pinciana in the hot sun several times, and being redirected by a kind lady at the Villa Malta, I eventually found myself back where I had started: at the top of the Spanish Steps, gazing up at the iconic twin-towered Chiesa della Trinità dei Monti. Further along the Vale Trinità dei Monti is the Villa Medici. Here I was told that the only way to gain entry into the Villa’s gardens (where I thought the fountain to be) would be with an expensive guided tour of both this sumptuous Renaissance Villa and the gardens. As I turned away, by now tired and hungry, my gaze was directed to a large fountain concealed beneath overhanging trees opposite the Villa’s entrance. This was it! Delighted, I waited for the usual crowd of tourists to move away before I could take my picture.
Respighi’s music becomes more melancholy at this point in the tone poem: the bright sun fades, and begins to set over the Eternal City.
Rejuvenated by my small triumph, I cast restraint to the winds and ordered an over-priced salad at the Café di Marco Ciampini at the top of the Spanish Steps. Admiring the splendid view over the city, which was somewhat restricted from my position in the cool depths of the place, I couldn’t help wondering that if my husband had been with me we would have been given one of the free tables at the balcony’s edge. But I was too content with my day’s success to mind.
Down below, at the foot of the Spanish Steps in the Piazza di Spagna, is another fountain, though not as glorious as those featured in Respighi’s tone poem. 
Here the air was redolent with the scent of a charcoal burner roasting chestnuts, a reminder that although it was still hot in Italy compared to our cool Nordic homeland, autumn was in the air, and beginning to cast a welcome chill over the city at dawn and dusk.
Before leaving the Fountains of Rome, it’s worth mentioning two others: The Fontana dei Quattro Fioumi (Four Rivers Fountain) is another Bernini masterpiece, and dominates the centre of the Piazza Navona in the Centro Storico.
It was commissioned in 1651 by Pope Innocent X, whose family palace, the Palazzo Pamphili, faced onto the piazza. At the centre is a copy of an Egyptian obelisk, surmounted with the Pamphili family emblem of a dove with an olive twig. Around it are muscular personifications of the Nile, Ganges, Danube and Plate Rivers, representing the four continents through which Papal authority now reached. Each carries symbols of identification and allegory, such as the Ganges carrying an oar, representing the river’s navigability. The Rio de la Plata sits on a pile of coins, symbolising the riches that America could offer to Europe (plata is “silver” in Spanish) – more specifically to the Catholic Church. The Nile’s head is draped in a shawl, signifying that no-one at that time knew the river’s source, while the Danube touches the Pope’s coat of arms, representing its closest proximity to Rome. Domitian’s 1st century stadium once occupied this vast rectangular space, which later became Rome’s main marketplace. Today it is surrounded by elegant Baroque palazzi, and ristorante and trattoria from which emanated the delicious aromas of grilled meat. Adding to the colourful atmosphere are street artists, hawkers, souvenir stalls, and tourists, who, as if reflecting the locations of the four rivers, could be heard chattering in languages from all four corners of the globe.
I came upon the Piazza della Republica, with its magnificent central fountains, while looking for Santa Maria Maggiore, with its gorgeous golden coffered ceiling, which I had seen with my mother 22 years before.
I had just been to see another of Bernini’s exquisite Baroque masterpieces, Ecstasy of Saint Theresa, in the Cornaro Chapel of the Chiesa di Santa Maria della Vittoria. Here it was mercifully quiet, and the sculpture more serenely beautiful than I had expected.
The Piazza della Republica, where the Via Nazionale begins, is an impressive semi-circular piazza flanked by grand 19th century neoclassical colonnades which were laid out after the Unification of Italy as part of the city’s urban renewal. To one side stands the 4th century Baths of Diocletian complex, on the other, Termini Station. 
This fountain was originally the fountain of the Acqua Pia, commissioned by Pope Pius IX in 1870, featuring four plaster lions. But these were replaced in 1901 with Mario Rutelli’s magnificent sculptures of four Naiads: the Nymph of the Lakes (holding a swan), the Nymph of the Rivers (reclining on a water snake), the Nymph of the Oceans (riding a seahorse), and the Nymph of the Underground Waters (leaning over a strange dragon-like reptile). At the centre, Glaucus, a prophetic Greek sea-god born mortal and transformed immortal upon eating a magical herb, wrestles with a large fish from whose mouth water gushes – all symbolising man’s dominion over nature.
The Fountains of the Villa d’Este outside Rome in the town of Tivoli inspired another composer: the Hungarian nationalist Franz Liszt. His evocative but challenging work appears in his album Années de pèlerinage (Years of Pilgrimage, 1835-8), a set of three suites for solo piano.
Liszt spent the late 1830’s traveling through Switzerland and Italy with his mistress Marie d’Agoult, and in this music he captured his personal reflections of the Alpine landscapes of Switzerland and the masterworks of Italian Renaissance art. In his Fountains music he brilliantly captures moments in the gardens, with the many fountains, pools and water troughs, and the joyful play of sunlight on water. 
All this I enjoyed with a group tour – along with Hadrian’s Villa Adriana – guided by the knowledgeable “Alfredo”. But throughout the tour I heard less of Alfredo’s commentary and more of Liszt’s delightful music playing in my mind. The piece anticipated the Impressionism of Debussy in its aural representation of water, and is a remarkable example of Liszt’s colouristic effects through the use of sparkling arpeggios and tremolandi.
I had unwisely pre-booked the tour for the first Sunday of the month, a day when Italian citizens gain free entry, and the gardens were consequently very crowded, the pathways congested with strollers and frolicking children.
This 16th century Villa was commissioned by Cardinal Ippolito II d’Este, son of the Duke of Ferrara and grandson of Pope Alexander VI, along with Lucrezia Borgia, and the nearby river Aniene was diverted to supply water for the complex system of pools, water jets, channels, fountains and cascades. It is a true marvel of engineering and landscape design.
Respighi’s other famous tone poem opens with musical imagery of the Pines of the Villa Borghese – children playing in the Gardens, dancing the Italian equivalent of the nursery rhyme Ring a Ring o’ Roses and mimicking marching soldiers and battles, twittering and shrieking like swallows. 
I had already become aware of the strange umbrella shape of the Roman pines in the Borghese Gardens during my first Fountain search. They grace many a Roman landscape and several of the Seven Hills. These include Gianicolo – The Janiculum – the hill of the temple of Janus, the double-faced god of doors and gates and of the new year. The Hill is presided over by a massive equestrian statue of Unification hero Giuseppe Garibaldi, and from the balustrade a fantastic view of Rome is spread out below. We met here at sunset, just in time to see the cityscape as the shadow of the Hill crept slowly forward, blanketing it from view. We drank champagne magicked from Peter’s backpack, and refueled with chocolate wafers.
This third section in Respighi’s music is a nocturne, creating the image of a full moon shining on the pines. Respighi recorded the sound of a nightingale on a phonograph, and stipulates in the score that it be played at the end of the movement – the first application of such techniques in contemporary music.
As if on cue, a near-full moon rose above the pines, illuminating the bridges of the Tiber, along whose western banks we ambled back to our hotel. 
The location of Respighi’s Pines Near a Catacomb is unclear, but could refer to one of the catacombs on the Appian Way, the Pines of which appear last in this piece. In this way, with our leisurely stroll along this once significant highway, we encountered both sets of Pines at once.
Respighi’s depiction of the Catacomb Pines is a majestic dirge, conjuring an image of a solitary chapel in the deserted countryside, a few pine trees silhouetted against the skyline. A hymn is heard, the sound rising and falling into the cavern in which the dead are interred. An offstage trumpet plays a Sanctus; lower orchestral instruments and the organ pedal suggest the subterranean depths of the catacombs, while the trombones and horns represent priests chanting.
The Pines of the Appian Way (Via Appia), is a march, recalling the past glories of Rome in a representation of dawn on the great military road leading into the capital of the Empire. A triumphant legion advances in the brilliance of the rising sun. Respighi wanted the ground to tremble beneath the footsteps of his army and instructs the organ to play low notes on the 8-, 16- and 32-foot organ pedals. The score calls for six buccine – ancient circular trumpets usually represented by modern flugelhorns (brass instruments resembling trumpets), which are sometimes partially played offstage. Trumpets blare and the army rises in triumph up to the Capitoline Hill. Respighi employs, along with the usual body of strings, plus a harp, a vast array of woodwind, brass, and percussion instruments. These include cymbals, a tam-tam (gong), triangle, ratchet, tambourine, celesta, glockenspiel and piano. It is a magnificent work, which I highly recommend be experienced live in a concert hall to gain the fullest appreciation of it.
We set out early for our camino on the Via Appia, the fresh morning air outside our hotel scented with tantalizing aromas from a nearby bakery. Armed with still-hot cornetti (croissants) and apples, we walked to the Piazza Venezia for the bus that would convey us past the Colosseum to the starting point of the Via Appia. 
This ancient highway is lined with several restaurants and water points, numerous tombs, monuments, currently inhabited villas, churches, catacombs, the ruins of the Circus of Maxentius, and baths, all making for a fascinating promenade through history. Recycling has been the custom in the ancient world for centuries, in which marble from one crumbling ruin is raided to build something else. This was reinforced by the sight of a modern garden wall constructed with the debris of old, including discarded amphorae and other ancient artifacts. 
The pine- and cypress-lined Via was named after Appius Claudius Caecus, a censor of the Republic who began and completed the first section as a military road during the Samnite Wars in 312 BC. I also remembered the gruesome scene in the film Spartacus, in which the armies of the rebel slave (Kirk Douglas) were defeated in 71 BC, and 6,000 slaves stood crucified along the 200-kilometer Via Appia from Rome to Capua. The atmosphere that hot sunny morning was redolent with memory, and I felt the ghosts of those who traveled and suffered here on foot or by wagon, the wheels of which left deep gouges in the lumpy smooth stones, eerily haunting the atmosphere around us. Christ himself is said to have appeared to St Peter on the Via Appia where the Chiesa del Domine Quo Vadis now stands.
We had bought an excellent map marked with significant sites along the Via at a bicycle rental store at the start of the route, near the Baths of Caracalla. There is a designated cycle path parallel to the pedestrian route, though these sometimes became confused by cyclists and hikers alike.
A peek through a beautiful wrought iron gate revealed a lovely garden, a villa concealed by trees at the end of the gravel driveway.
I was particularly captivated by a large tombstone featuring three portraits and a musical instrument. This is the grave monument of freedman Gaius Rabirius Hermodorus, along with Rabiria Demaris and Usia Prima, the latter a priestess of Isis. The instrument is a sistrum – a rattle from ancient times found in Minoan, Egyptian and West African cultures. Both the rattle and the flat round pan in the relief denote service to the Egyptian mother goddess Isis. Experts claim that her hairstyle, typical of female portraits during the Emperor Claudius’s reign, date this portrait to the first half of the 1st century.
The entire Appian Way – also known as “the queen of the long roads” – is of course far too long to walk in a day, as it was designed to connect to Brindisi in south-eastern Italy. We also wanted to find several significant aqueducts marked on the map, and located in a lovely park with a shallow stream. This is known as the Parc degli Aquedotti.
I think I could term this peaceful place a hidden gem, as there were no tourists in sight, only locals walking, jogging, and exercising their dogs. There are several aqueduct ruins in this park, but the two most impressive are the Aqua Claudia, dating from 52 AD, and the Aqua Felice, completed in 1586 by Pope Sixtus V. Both still feed Rome’s public fountains, including the Trevi and the Four Rivers Fountain in the Piazza Navona. These aqueducts – sheer marvels of early engineering – are designed to decrease by a precise 1 foot in altitude every 300 feet, thus providing an endless flow of fresh drinking water to the citizens of Rome.
Another relatively undiscovered and tranquil place in Rome is the Galleria Doria Pamphilj, entered from the Via del Corso. It is a 17th century villa once occupied by Prince Camillo Pamphilij, a nephew of Pope Innocent X. He defied his powerful mother Olimpia Maidalchini by renouncing the Cardinalship conferred on him by his uncle, and marrying the widow Olimpia Borghese. The palazzo is one of the richest private art collections in Rome, with works by Raphael, Tintoretto, Titian, Breughel, Velasquez (including a lifelike portrait of the Pope himself), Caravaggio and Bernini.
It is worth the extra €2 to see the private apartments of this splendid Palace, where the Gallery of Mirrors resembles a small Versailles. The current resident Prince Jonathan Pamphilj himself provides anecdotes about the art, sumptuous rooms and the odd ancestral scandal, on the free audio guide, thus transforming the Gallery into a living place.
Nearby, and not far from the Trevi Fountain, is the Galleria Sciarra, concealed behind an unremarkable façade at Via Marco Minghetti 10. Inside the glass-roofed courtyard are enormous Art Nouveau frescoes, painted by Giuseppe Cellini in the late 19th century. The theme is the Glorification of Women, specifically the female virtues: Strength, Patience, Modesty, Kindness, Clear-mindedness, Humility, Prudence, Courtesy, Faithfulness, Love, Mercy and Justice.
Today the building is used for offices, but the courtyard is open to the public during business hours and one can walk in and admire the paintings. Apart from a Spanish-speaking guide with two visitors, I was the only one there.
There were several other little-known “gems” on my list, but insufficient time to see them all in a week. But the Isola Tiberna, the only island in the part of the Tiber River that flows through Rome, was another, worth visiting for its interesting history.
Situated between Trastevere on one side of the River and the Jewish Quarter on the other, Tiber Island has long been considered a place of healing, and there is still an active hospital there today. According to legend, Ancient Rome was struck by a plague, and a delegation was sent to Greece to fetch a sacred snake to honour Asclepius, the god of medicine. When the delegation returned their boat sank by colliding with Tiber Island, and the snake escaped and curled around a branch. This is the origin of the symbol of a snake twisted around a staff that still symbolises medicine today.
The island is a peaceful, uncrowded place, with a picturesque bridge leading to each of the banks and offering lovely views of the River. Somewhere on the Island I stopped to listen to someone practicing the piano, Chopin’s Fantastie Impromptu, and thought with envy of the centuries of music students who had flocked here to study. It was a pleasant relief from the constant sirens and scooters buzzing their fumey way through the never-ending traffic.
Inasmuch as Rome was not built in a day – indeed its history spans at least three millennia – nor can it be explored in a day, or even a lifetime, and will always leave visitors with many stones unturned. But I shall take away with me other memorable highlights: an excellent production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni at the Teatro dell’Opera,
a performance of Bach’s Magnificat in the All Saints Anglican Church at Via del Babuino 153,
the chic, edgy fashions in the windows,
the indestructible Colosseum,
the enduring Vatican City which includes St. Peter’s Basilica, the Raphael Rooms and Galleries, and Michelangelo’s jewel, the Sistine Chapel, 
the colourful markets,
and the magnificent churches.
Santa Maria in Trastevere
Santa Cecelia in Trastevere
I shall also be a little wiser with facts learned: October, while a recommended “shoulder” month, along with April and May with the glorious weather, is still extremely busy, making for some unpleasantly crowded sites and justifiably fractious service people. While the schools and universities in the northern hemisphere may have returned by mid-September, there were still large groups of retirees and families with pre-school children eager to see the sights in cooler weather before the winter set in. Extremely comfortable walking shoes are essential for tramping the endless cobbled streets, and a hat for almost all-year-round sunshine.
Service is very slow everywhere, requiring infinite patience, especially when waiting for the bill, which sometimes comes with a few cookies. Generally I found our evening meals in Rome disappointing and overpriced, and heavily laden with white pastas and breads. Cakes and pastries are served with breakfast as is the custom in Spain and Portugal. But we did find a gem around the corner from our hotel near Piazza Cavour, La Francescana (Via Pierluigi da Palestrina 11-17), where I enjoyed delicious antipasti as my main meal: grilled half-tomatoes, shredded cabbage with oil lemon juice, salt and rosemary, sweet pickled onions and mushrooms, grilled zucchini strips and aubergines, olives, prosciutto with peppercorns, mozzarella, and artichokes.
Confectionery tended sometimes to be stale, cappuccinos small but delicious, the metro efficient and buses generally on time, and toilet seats absent from many a restaurant and public bagno. There was a marked military presence at every significant site, ensuring the safety of visitors from the ever-threatening lunatic fringe.
Above all, one falls in love with the atmosphere in Italy, where bright sunshine mingles with the scents of pines, cigars, perfume and cooking. Music emanates from open windows and street musicians, and the old-world courtesy of the men towards women is a winning, utterly enchanting feature.
Coin or no coin thrown into the Trevi Fountain, I will be back!
