Narracio de Mirabilibus Urbis Romae - More Wonders of Rome

In the previous post, I examined the anonymous 12th century guide to the city of Rome, the Mirabilia Urbis Romae. In this post, I'm going to examine two related but less widely distributed texts, the Narracio de Mirabilibus Urbis Romae and De Septem Mundi Miraculis.

Finding the Latin text of Gregorius' Narracio de Mirabilibus Urbis Romae wasn't difficult, and there's a good modern English translation from John Osborne. He's tried to preserve the register switches and grammatical... peculiarities of the original. As the traslation is not in the public domain, I'm going to quote selected portions rather than comment on the whole text

The Narracio is a personal account, not a collection of tales or a collaborative legendarium/guidebook. It still contains magic and wonders, but they're either firsthand accounts or plausible borrowings from known sources.

I do not, then, think of Gregorius as merely a Sir John Mandeville. I believe he had visited Rome. In the sections which are peculiar to his work he does seem to show an actual knowledge of what he describes,—of the spinario, the statue of Venus, the bath of Apollonius, the brazen tablet, and other things. He cites the authority of the Roman clerics for various stories, and refuses to believe all that the ordinary pilgrims have to tell. In short, though far from an intelligent observer, he is not an absolute and wilful liar.

-Magister Gregorius de Mirabilibus Urbis Romae, M.R.James, 1917

Gregorius is curious, but inexperienced. He starts off with a structure and a plan, but rapidly gives up. The text cuts off abruptly without explanation. Perhaps he ran out of time, content, or patience. He begins with a standard apologetic prologue, but with more sincerity than usual.

At the special request of my comrades, specifically Master Martin, Lord Thomas, and several others whom I greatly respect, I have been constrained to set down on paper those things which I have seen in Rome that are most worthy of admiration. I fear however that my poorly-composed report may disturb your sacred study and interrupt the delights of holy scripture, [1] and I blush to offend ears accustomed to the lectures of the foremost scholars with my unpolished prose. After all, who wouldn’t think twice about inviting to a plain and frugal repast guests who are accustomed to delicacies? That explains why my lazy hand has had to be prodded to take up my promised task, for often, just as I was about to pick up my pen, my mind would shrink from the subject when I considered the poverty of my disordered discourse. However, the wishes of my colleagues have finally overcome my bashfulness. In order not to delay the promised truth I have taken up my pen in my awkward and clumsy hand, and I have set for the work, as best I can, in the following manner.

[1] This could be ironic, as Gregorius’ report is largely secular and completely free of the usual biblical quotations and references, he doesn’t seem to like Pope Gregory, and he is heartily sick of pilgrims.

Here begins the account of the wonders of the city of Rome, which have been fashioned either by magic craft or by human labour…

Antiquae urbis Romae cum regionibus simulachrum
Marco Fabio Calvo, 1532

The City of Rome

I believe this ruin teaches us clearly that all temporal things will soon pass away, especially as Rome, the epitome of earthly glory, languished and declines so much every day.

[…]

The horse, the rider, and the columns were lavishly gilded, but in many places the gold has fallen victim to Roman avarice, and time has also taken its toll. The rider raises his right hand, as if to address the people or to give orders; his left hand holds a reign, which turns the horse’s head aside to the right, as if he were about to ride away in another direction. A little bird, which they call a cuckoo, sits between the ears of the horse, and under the hoofs there is a sort of dwarf, who is being trodden upon. He makes a wonderful image of the agonies of death.

Just as this admirable work has been assigned different names, so too have a variety of reasons been proposed for its manufacture. I shall give a wide berth to the worthless stories of the pilgrims and the Romans in this regard, and shall record what I’ve been told by the elders, the cardinals, and the men of greatest learning. 

This is the statue of Marcus Aurelius. We've read one story in the previous post. Gregorius offers two more.

Those who call him Marcus give this account of its origin. There was a certain king of the Miseni, a dwarf, who was more skillful than any other man in the perverse arts of magic. After he had subjugated the neighboring kings, he attacked the Romans, whom he easily defeated in several encounters. For his magic so blunted his enemy’s strength and the keenness of their weapons that they completely lost the will to fight, and their weapons the power to inflict wounds. Because he defeated the Romans easily in every engagement, they were reluctant to leave their fortifications, and eventually found themselves surrounded by a tight blockade. Penned up in this way, they were unable to obtain any reinforcements.

Every day before dawn this magician would come out of his camp alone, and while the loud cry of a bird could be heard coming from the camp, he would practice his magic arts alone in a field. By certain secret words and powerful spells he made it impossible for the Romans to muster their strength and defeat him.

The rest of the plan can be easily surmised, especially if you’ve read the version in the Mirabila.

Marcus was to go out by night, and when he discovered that the king of the Miseni had left his camp, he was not to attack him with his weapons, since these had no power to hurt the king, but to seize him and carry him back inside the walls. Marcus gave his complete assent, and in middle of the night passed through the wall.

[…]

Captured in a manner he had not foreseen, the magician was then carried back inside the wall, and fearing that any delay might allow their captive to free himself by his magic craft, Marcus trampled him to death beneath the hoofs of his horse as everyone looked on, for the king could not be harmed by weapons.

Gregorius follows this story with an alternative explanation based on a story from Livy. Just for fun, here's the original tale from Livy.

In this year, owing either to an earthquake or the action of some other force, the middle of the Forum fell in to an immense depth, presenting the appearance of an enormous cavern. Though all worked their hardest at throwing earth in, they were unable to fill up the gulf, until at the bidding of the gods inquiry was made as to what that was in which the strength of Rome lay. For this, the seers declared, must be sacrificed on that spot if men wished the Roman republic to be eternal. The story goes on that M. Curtius, a youth distinguished in war, indignantly asked those who were in doubt what answer to give, whether anything that Rome possessed was more precious than the arms and valour of her sons. As those around stood silent, he looked up to the Capitol and to the temples of the immortal gods which looked down on the Forum, and stretching out his hands first towards heaven and then to the yawning chasm beneath, devoted himself to the gods below. Then mounting his horse, which had been caparisoned as magnificently as possible, he leaped in full armour into the cavern. Gifts and offerings of fruits of the earth were flung in after him by crowds of men and women. 

-Livy, Ab Urbe Condita, Book 7 Ch 5

Gregorius’ tale is... slightly different, both in detail and in theme.

Another explanation of this statue… A great chasm opened in the ground at the Palace of Sallust, spewing forth sulphurous fire and foul air. This caused a terrible plague which killed a great many Romans. When the daily death toll from this pestilence began to mount, the citizens consulted Phoebus and discovered that it would only abate if some Roman were to set the well-being of the populace ahead of personal consideration and willingly throw himself into the chasm. Accordingly a certain Roman citizen, of good family but getting on in years and leading an inactive life which brought no benefit to either himself or to his city, was implored to sacrifice himself for the common good, in return for which his family would be showered with wealth and raised to the ranks of the ruling class.

Having read the story in Livy, how do you expect this tale to end? Wrong!

He refused categorically, replying that the recognition of posterity was of little use to him if he had to enter the underworld alive.

When no one could be found in the whole city who would consent to perform this act of self-sacrifice, Quintus Quirinius addressed an assembly of the entire population. […] Undaunted and in high spirits, as if on his way to a party, he mounted his horse and in full view of everyone hurled himself at great speed into the opening. Immediately a cuckoo flew out, the chasm closed its jaws, and the plague departed.

Thus freed from this great curse, the Romans erect an eternal memorial in his honour, because of this supreme act of service. To this they added the horse, because Quntius had made his sacrifice while mounted on it, Between the ears of the horse they placed the bird which had flown out of the chasm, and beneath the horse’s hoofs they put the dwarf who lay with his wife.

This dwarf was not previously mentioned. M.R. James says, “The explanation of the nanus at the end is very awkward. The figure ought surely to have represented the lazy citizen who refused to sacrifice himself” I like the editorial critique six centuries after publication. The cuckolding dwarf is absolutely consistent with the prevailing sense of humour at the time and tourist stories since time immemorial. 

Italian engraving, 1831

The third statue is that of the Colossus, which some think to be a statue of the sun, while others call it the image of Rome. What is particularly astounding about this piece is how so great a mass could have been cast, how it was raised and how it could stand. For its height, as I have discovered it written, was 126 feet. This enormous monument stood on the island of Herodius, at the Colosseum, fifteen feet higher than the loftiest points in the city. It held a sphere in its right hand, and a sword in its left, the sphere representing the world, and the sword military prowess. The Romans entrusted the sphere to the right hand because it is more virtuous to rule than to conquer.

[…]

The bronze image was completely gilded with imperial gold and it shone in the darkness. The strangest thing of all about it was that it turned continuously in a motion equal to that of the sun, which it therefore always face, and because of this many believed that it was the image of the sun.

[…]

Although of horrific size, one can nonetheless admire in them the great skill of their maker, and indeed nothing of the perfect beauty of the human head or hand is lacking in any part. It’s quite amazing how the fluid craftsmanship can simulate soft hairs in solid bronze, and, if you look at intently, transfixed by its splendour, it gives the appearance of being about to move and speak. They say that no other statue was ever made in the city with such care or expense.

A Very Long Practical Joke?

There is another bronze statue, a rather laughable one, which they call Priapus. He looks as though he is in severe pain, with his head bent down as if to remove from his foot a thorn that he had stepped on. If you lean forward and look up to see what he's doing, you discover genitals of extraordinary size.

Genitals of extraordinary size? I don't think they exist.

Just to confirm, in Latin.

Est etiam aliud eneum simulacrum ualde ridiculosum quod Priapum dicunt. Qui demisso capite uelud spinam calcatam educturus de pede, asperamlesionem pacientis speciem representat. Cui si demisso capite uelut quid agat exploraturus suspexeris, mire magnitudinis uirilia uidebis.

-Magister Gregorius de Mirabilibus Urbis Romae: A New Description of Rome in the Twelfth Century, G. McN. Rushforth, 1919

The statue in question is the Spinario, which does not, as far as I can tell, have the... attribute described by Magister Gregorius. I've spent more time than I think is wise (i.e. any time at all) trying to find low-angle shots. Perhaps it was very cold in 12th century England? Perhaps there’s an angle where it looks bigger? Perhaps it's a little joke to mislead future statue-ogglers; a rickroll, but with one letter changed? "Ha ha, made you look?"

It's a pretty good joke, actually. Someone in the 12th century reads the manuscript, travels all the way to Rome, finds the statue, looks up at it, realizes the description is inaccurate, travels all the way back to England, and complains. "Why were you looking anyway, Stephanos?," comes the reply. "Eh? Eeeeh?"

Additional Wonders

Gregorius then describes the Salvatio Romae and the Iron Statue of Belerophon, closely following the text of De Septem Mundi Miraculis. See the discussion of that text below. But the next wonder has a personal touch.

Also much to be admired is the bath of Apollo Bianeus, which still exists in Rome. This bath was made with great skill in a bronze vat from a certain formula of sulphur, black salt, and tartar. When it had been prepared, Apollo Bianeus lit it with one consecrated candle, and it was thereafter kept hot by a continuous fire. I saw this bath myself and I dipped my hand into it, but although I had paid the fee I declined to bath because of the foul stench of the sulphur.

"Apollo Bianeus" is a corruption of the reference text, scribal error, or just poor memory, as the refernce should be to Apollonius of Tyana.

Digression: Apollonius of Tyana and 7 Faces of Dr. Lao

7 Faces of Dr. Lao (1964) influenced early Dungeons and Dragons. According to Rob Kuntz,

As a young chap I was part of the Gygax family, virtually adopted at one point, and always in attendance at their house on a daily basis. I ate, drank. and sometimes slept there, gamed (of course) helped with the garden, adopted their religion, and most definitely watched movies there!

That I was influenced by EGG's tastes is to say the least. He would later comment upon several that held deep fascination for him and inspired him in writing many of D&D's spells, particularly, 7 Faces of Dr. Lao; and of course, The Raven, a Roger Corman film.

The Raven is not a great film by any means, but 7 Faces of Dr. Lao is better than it has any right to be. I wouldn't say it's aged well, or that it's a brillaint film, but it has some redeeming qualities. It's gloomy, philosophical piece disguised as a special-effects heavy kids film. You don't get scenes like this in your standard Disney production:

The character, by the way, doesn't get a redemption arc or change their ways. Apollonius of Tyre predicts the future.

Judging by comments on youtube and elsewhere, the film was highly influential and memorable to young minds, for reasons they may not have understood at the time. The book is considerably weirder.

Anyway, back to the Narracio.

Marble Statues

Now I shall turn my attention to the marble statues, almost all of which were destroyed or toppled by blessed Gregory. I shall begin with one in particular because of its exceptional beauty.

[…]

The image is made from Parian marble with such wonderful and intricate skill, that she seems more like a living creature than a statue; indeed she seems to blush in her nakedness, a reddish tinge colouring her face, and it appears to those who take a close look that blood flows in her snowy complexion. Because of this wonderful image, and perhaps some magic spell that I’m unaware of, I was drawn back three times to look at it despite the fact that it was two stades distant from my inn.

I love Gregorius. In an endnote, Osborne speculates he also had tiny feet. I think he's just great.

Close by there are two marble horses of incredible size and skillful composition. It is said that they represent the first mathematicians, to whom horses were assigned because of the quickness of their intellects. 

These are the Horse Tamers, who get a much longer tale in the Mirabila.

In this account of the city’s monuments, I mustn’t forget to mention the Palace of Diocletian, although words are not adequate to describe its vast size and most skillful and admirable construction. It’s so large in fact that I couldn’t get an accurate impression of the whole structure despite spending the best part of a day there. I discovered columns so large that no one can throw a pebble as high as their capitals, and the cardinals say that a hundred men could scarcely cut, polish, and finish one of these in the space of a year. I shan’t say any more about it, since if I tell you the truth you won’t believe me.

Gregorius 100% threw pebbles at these columns. You cannot convince me otherwise.

But who really cares whether I describe at length all the palaces in the city of Rome, since I’m sure that no one could ever see them all? Therefore I shall skip the enormous structure which was the palace of Tiberius, and leave aside the palace of Nero, the wonderful building of the divine Nerva, and the palace of Octavian. I shall not even speak of the seven thrones, skillfully constructed at great height, about which, they say, Ovid wrote:

“The palace of the sun towered on lofty columns, made bright by gleaming gold and flame-like bronze.”

Concerning the palace of the sixty emperors: Who could describe the palace of the sixty emperors? Although much of it has crumbled, they still say that all the Romans of this day and age couldn’t destroy what’s left.

Now I shall add a few words about the pyramids, the tombs of the mighty, of enormous size and height, rising to a point in the manner of a cone. The first of these which I encountered was the tomb of Romulus, which stands by the castle of Cresentius near the church of St. Peter’s. The pilgrims erroneously claim that this is the grain heap of the apostle Peter, which was transformed into a stone hill of the same size when Nero confiscated it. It’s an utterly worthless tale, typical of those told by pilgrims. Hidden inside every pyramid is a marble sarcophagus, with carved reliefs on all sides, in which the body of the deceased was placed.

The pyramids in question are the Meta Romuli and the Meta Remi. According to Osborne, this tale is not known from any other sources. 

Gregorius then relates some facts about Julius Caesar’s tomb / St. Peter's needle, now known better as the Vatican Obelisk.

The pilgrims call this pyramid “St. Peter’s needle” and they make great efforts to crawl underneath it, where the stone rests on four bronze lions, claiming falsely that those who manage to do so are cleansed from their sins for having made a true penance.

Osborne relates that this is an “interesting insight into the mentality of the medieval pilgrim”.

Looking at the Vatican Obelisk, it’s obviously supported by lions. But these are not the original lions. These are 16th century lions.

Gregory reports that the space between the obelisk and its base was created by four bronze lions. This is also curious, because the original bronze support pieces, or astragals, which are still in use today, are clearly not in the form of lions nor of any animal. The error is by no means unique to Gregory. It may be found in the writings of no less worthy an observer than Petrarch, who refers to the bronze lions in a letter written to cardinal Giovanmi Colonna in 1377, and two lions actually appear in a thirteenth century mural illustrating the Crucifixtion of St. Peter in the Church of S. Piero a Grado (near Pisa).

-Osborne

The internet is amazing. It only took me a few minutes to find the mural.

There can be no question of a switch having been made at some point between the fourteenth century and 1586, as this would have involved lifting the obelisk from its base. Moreover, the original curved astragals are shown in illustrations contained in the Modena and Princeton manuscripts of Johannes Marcanova’s Quaedam antiquitatum fragmenta of 1465, and again in a sixteenth-century drawing of the obelisk by Guiliano di Sangallo.

-The Marvels of Rome, John Osborne, 1987.

Johannes Marcanova

It is possible their shape suggested an animal foot to medieval observers, who were accustomed to the sight of lions supporting monuments and furnishings of all sorts, and that they simply assumed that the astragals were meant to represent lions.

As the Vatican obelisk stands today, there are indeed four lions at the corners, concealing the original astragals which are still in place), but these were added in the time of Pope Sixtus V and are the work of the artist Prospero Bresciano.

-The Marvels of Rome, John Osborne, 1987.

I vaguely recognized the name "Prospero Bresciano" as “the sculptor who made a Moses so bad that he died", so I did some digging.

The Fountain of Moses

But looking into the story, I was surprised to learn that it’s an “utterly worthless tale”. While it’s true that the statue was widely criticized after its unveiling, and over the intervening centuries, it did not lead to the poetic death of the sculptor from a broken heart. I was duped by the tales of credulous guides and pilgrims, just like Gregorius!

However appealing this story is, it simply is not true. In early 1591, almost two and one-half years after the final payment for the Moses, Bresciano was still very much alive, collaborating with Pietro Bordone on a copper angel and the stemma (coat of arms) of Gregory XIV for the Castel Sant'Angelo.124 He was still alive in August 1591, when he modeled the figures of the Virtues for the catafalque of Sixtus V erected in S. Maria Maggiore. Five months after the catafalque was erected, in January 1592, Bresciano filed a legal suit against Orlando Landi, his procurer of materials, for stealing a large quantity of wax from his home.

-Steven F. Ostrow, The Discourse of Failure in Seventeenth-Century Rome: Prospero Bresciano's "Moses"

Which is charmingly mundane. Back to the Narracio (again). 

Historically Accurate Giant Crabs

Osborne proposes that the lions of the obelisk suggested, to the mind of Gregory, the crabs supporting the lighthouse of Alexandria. Gregory uses “cancros / cancri”, and Osborne chose to translate this literally, as “crabs”, rather than architecturally, as “arches”. It’s possible that Gregory used the “crab” as architectural jargon, understood to him and to his colleagues. It’s also possible he envisioned giant crabs supporting the structure, as lions support the obelisk.

Another great wonder is the Alexandrian lighthouse, which stands in the sea on four crabs made of glass. One wonders how such enormous crabs could have been manufactured of glass, how they could be placed in the sea without being broken, and how the cement foundations supported by the crabs could survive underwater. It is also puzzling how the cement hardened underwater, why the crabs are not broken in the sea, and why the foundation doesn’t slip under the great weight of cement. Isidore describes a type of sand which had this property: if it is mixed with water, subjected to sun or to fire, reduced to its original sandy state, and then plunged into water, it solidifies and turns to stone. But it’s not my task to explain miracles.

This sort of thing could easily confuse later illustrators.

The Death of Handwriting

In front of [the statue] there is a bronze tablet, which is called the tablet “prohibiting sin”, on which are written the principal statutes of the law. On this tablet I read much, but understood little, for they were aphorisms, and the reader has to supply most of the words.

Osborne explains:

It seems strange to us in the twentieth century that these elegant capital letters can have posed any difficulty to a medieval viewer, but such was evidently indeed the case. An interesting parallel is provided by a Carolingian Aratea manuscript (Leiden, University Library, Cod. lat. Voss. 79), where the rustic capitals of the ninth century were transliterated into readable script by a thirteenth-century scribe. Erwin Panofsky, noting this odd occurrence, suggests that it can only have been done “because he evidently thought that the Carolingian ‘Rustic Capital’ would stump his contemporaries, as well as future generations.” One can also compare the comment of the fourteenth-century humanist physician, Giovanni Dondi, on the inscription carved on the Arch of Constantine; “multe litere sculpte, sed difficiliter leguntur.”

-The Marvels of Rome, John Osborne, 1987.

Martin van Heemskerck

Some interesting light has been shed on Gregory’s use of this medieval account of the seven wonders of the world as a result of Margarete Demus-Quatember’s recent study of a sixteenth century painting by Martin van Heemskerck. The work in question, now in the collection of the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore, consists principally of a fantastic view of the city of Rome, in which a number of these seven wonders can be identified. Since it seems unlikely that Heemskerck can have based his painting on Gregory’s Narracio, it would appear that there must have existed a version of the De septem miraculus mundi in which the wonders were associated with the city of Rome. If such a version did exist, and it is otherwise rather difficult to account for the Baltimore painting), and if Gregory knew it, then his inclusion in the Narracio of six of the seven wonders is more readily explained.

-The Marvels of Rome, John Osborne, 1987.

I’d like to read the citation (Margarete Demus-Quatember, Ricordo di Roma. Mirabilia urbis Romae und Miracula mundi auf einem Gemälde von Martin van Heemskerck … 203-223). Unfortunately, it’s paywalled. But the painting is worth examining. It's a mishmash of wonders, artifacts, and characters. It's the Narracio in a nutshell. It's a mytho-historical Where's Wally?

Of the Seven Wonders of the World from The Complete Works of the Venerable Bede, trans. Rev. J.A. Giles

This text is in the public domain. As one of Gregorius' main sources, it's worth quoting in full.

The first of the seven wonders of the world, made by the hand of man, is the Capitol at Rome, the very salvation of the inhabitants, and greater than a whole city. In it were statues of the nations subdued by the Romans, or images of their gods, and on the breasts of the statues were inscribed the names of the nations which had been conquered, with bells hanging from their necks. Priests or watchmen attended on these by turns, day and night, and showed much care in watching them. If either of them should move, the bell made a noise, and so they knew what nation was rebelling against the Romans. When they knew this, they communicated the information by word of mouth or by writing to the Roman princes, that they might know against what nation they were next to turn the Roman arms.

The second is the Light-house of Alexandria, which was founded on four glass arches, twenty paces deep beneath the sea. The wonder is, how such large arches could be made, or how they could be conveyed without breaking; how the foundations, which are cemented together above, could adhere to them, or how the cement could stand firm under the water; and why the arches are not broken, and why the foundations cast in above do not slip off.

The third is the figure of the Colossus in the island of Rhodes, a hundred and thirty-six feet long, and cast of melted metal. The wonder is how such an immense mass could be cast, or how it could be set up and not fall.

The fourth wonder is the iron figure of Bellerophon on horseback, which hangs suspended in the air over the city, and has neither chains nor any thing else to support it; but great magnetic stones are placed in vaults, and so it is retained in assumption (position), and remains in balanced measure. Now the calculation of its weight is about five thousand pounds of iron.

The fifth wonder is the Theatre of Heraclea, carved out of one piece of marble, so that all the cells and rooms of the wall, and the dens of the beasts, are made out of one solid stone. It is supported on four arches carved out of the same stone; and no one can whisper in the whole circle so low, either to himself or to another, without being heard by every one who is in the circle of the building.

The sixth wonder is the Bath, which is such, that when Apollotaneus has lighted it with one candle of consecration, it keeps the hot baths continually burning without being attended to.

The seventh wonder is the Temple of Diana, on four pillars. Its first foundations are arched drains; then it increases gradually, upper stones being placed on the former arches. Thus: upon these four are placed eight pillars and eight arches; then in the third row it increases in a like proportion, and stones still higher are placed thereon. On the eight are placed sixteen, and on the sixteen thirty-two; the fourth row of stones is on the fifth row of arches, and sixty-four pillars complete the plan of this remarkable building.

It must have been a thrill for Gregorius to see one of these wonders firsthand.