The church
is not architecturally handsome; but it is eminently picturesque, with
its relics of centuries, its mosaic pulpits and floor, its frescoes of
Pinturicchio and Pesaro, its antique columns, its rich golden ceiling,
its Gothic mausoleum to the Savelli, and its medieval tombs. A dim,
dingy look is over all,--but it is the dimness of faded splendor; and
one cannot stand there, knowing the history of the church, its exceeding
antiquity, and the changes it has undergone since it was a Roman temple,
without a peculiar sense of interest and pleasure.
It was here that Romulus, in the gray dawning of Rome, built the temple
of Jupiter Feretrius. Here the _spolia opima_ were deposited. Here the
triumphal processions of the Emperors and generals ended. Here the
victors paused before making their vows, until the message came from
the Mamertine Prisons below to announce that their noblest prisoner and
victim, while the clang of their triumph and his defeat rose ringing in
his ears as the procession ascended the steps, had expiated with death
the crime of being the enemy of Rome. Over these very steps,--nineteen
centuries ago, the first great Caesar climbed on his knees after his
first triumph.
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