Saints, Gods, and at Least One Thief

May 18

Lunch on Saturday was interrupted between the salad and the pizza. How the waiters knew where to go, I never did find out. But they came out of the handbag store and handed me Joanna’s purse. 

We had decided to go to see the Pantheon. This is an ancient temple devoted to all the gods. It has the largest dome built in Classical times. The current building dates to early in the second century A.D. and replaces an earlier one destroyed by fire. 

The original was built by Augustus’s son-in-law, Marcus Agrippa.

The dome was the model that Brunelleschi studied when he prepared to design the Duomo. Michelangelo studied the Pantheon and the Duomo before he did St. Peter’s.

The way was fairly easy to follow. We take our street and then walk to the foot of Via Veneto. At that point, we are on familiar territory—Piazza Barberini and the Triton Fountain.

We stopped for lunch at Pepy’s Bar. We had been there before, and sat maybe at the same table, in the open window looking out on the square and the fountain.

We put my hat and Joanna’s purse on an extra chair. The same waiter came up and recognized us. He even remembered that I had ordered Montepulciano last week.

We were almost through the Caprese salad when the man, possibly Australian, at the table next to Joanna said, “Lady, that man just stole your purse.”

A waiter standing nearby was first onto the street. The witness was next, and then me. The waiter ran up to an intersection and stopped. The witness couldn’t see the thief. Our waiter joined the group. They looked around, had a brief consultation,  and then went into a bag shop on the corner.

I saw them talking to a frowning woman who came to the door, threw a cigarette onto the street, and led them back inside.

They came out with Joanna’s bag and asked if it was the right one. Clearly it was, but I took it to Joanna so she could confirm that indeed it was hers.

They said later that they found the thief in there and he gave the purse back to them. Did they see the guy and guess he was the one they were after? Or is there a history with this store? After all, if you’re in the business of snatching purses, where better to conceal evidence than in a store full of hand bags?

A couple of zippers were open, but Joanna confirmed that nothing had been removed. Money was still there.

Given the brief time, perhaps five minutes, and the position of the wallet in the bag, there is little to suggest that her credit cards were compromised. Even so, she has to watch for unusual activity on the credit cards for a while.

The witness told us later that a man had sat at a table next to ours, and then had gotten up a minute or so later. “I was wondering why he had a purse,” the man said. 

I never saw the guy.

Joanna was clearly shaken, but by the time she finished lunch and a Campari and soda (with the bag on her lap), she felt better. The most important thing in the bag, she told me, was the camera. She had a few euros in a side pocket and credit cards in her wallet. 

If she could put them into pockets, she wouldn’t need a bag that had to be laid aside (or kept in her lap). So we stopped in a men’s store to buy her a jacket with pockets. So far, that seems to be working out very well.

The portico and plaza at the Pantheon were crowded. More so than usual, I guess, because there was a service in progress inside.

There were no sacrifices to Jupiter and Mars. The building was co-opted by the Christians and has been a church, Sancta Maria Ad Martyres, for more than 1,400 years. According to my guide book, the Pantheon has been in continuous use since it was built.

“Ad” is “to” in Latin. “Martyres” I believe is also a Latin form. The Italian is “martiri.” I think that the name means the church is named for the Virgin Mary and is dedicated to the Christian martyrs. But I’m not sure.

The wait didn’t matter much. After all, this is Rome. Right across he square was a place with a lot of tables outside serving wine and food to go with it.

We did get in, along with shoving hordes, mostly tours led by guides, which are a real pain in the ass. Tourists are bad enough, but the tours can have two dozen people that just plow in front of you. They have to follow the guy who carries an umbrella or some kind of symbol on a stick.

The tombs of the first two kings of unified Italy—Victor Emmanuele II and Umberto I—are in the church, along with Queen Margherita, for whom the pizza is named. 

The kings’ tombs are decorated with plaques, wreaths, and flags. There are guards standing watch.

Raphael is also buried in the Pantheon, but without garlands or guards, just a rather primitive looking stone Madonna and Child and a boast on his coffin that I am told says that when he was alive nature feared he would outdo her, and when he was dead, was afraid she too would die. I wonder if he composed that or if a fan did.

The floor, made of various colors of marble, has the maroon dots, like the one in St. Peter’s where Charlemagne was crowned. It is supposed to be the original design from pagan days. I wonder if the floor, as well as the dome, was an inspiration for St. Peter’s.

Not far from the Pantheon is another curious church, a basilica whose roof is topped by a stag’s head with a crucifix between the antlers. It is the Church of St. Eustace. He was an aristocrat who went hunting one day and saw a vision of a buck with the cross on its head. He became a Christian and, eventually, a martyr. There is a similar legend about St. Hubert. They are the patron saints of hunters and the inspiration for the Jagermeister label.

Inside the church, a half dozen nuns were singing hymns in front of the effigy of Mary in the Lady Chapel.

Then we wandered some more, winding up in Piazza de Minerva. This was the site of another church I had read about, Sta. Maria Sopra Minerva. It is a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary and built over the site of a former temple of Minerva

We went in and found most of the nave roped off for a service. We couldn’t see much, so we went out onto the porch, where I sat down to read up on the church. Joanna took the Edward Hopper-like photo of the day, “Harry Reads Up on Sopra Minerva.” 

The body of St. Catherine of Siena, a nun who persuaded the papacy to return to Rome from Avignon, is buried under the altar, all except for her head, which is in Siena.

The church also has two Medici popes and a statue by Michelangelo, as well as frescoes by Fra Lippo Lippi. Wow, let’s go back in and see how much of it we can make out from the back of the nave. We went in and the ropes were down.

They even let visitors up by the altar to view St. Catherine’s shrine up close.

There was a cenotaph for a particularly avuncular looking cardinal that I found interesting.

The statue of Christ holding a cross is reminiscent of the muscular Jesus of “The Last Judgment.” Except this one has a piece of bronze or something added—I guess for modesty—that seems to defy gravity and is really weird. 

The frescoes are OK. They are about the life of St. Thomas Aquinas, who applied the logic of the pagans to prove the doctrine of the Catholic church. Are you convinced yet?

There is one in particular that is fun. This one contains a tiny St. Thomas in his Dominican robe. He is clearly interrupting the Annunciation—Gabriel, Mary, Holy Dove and all—to introduce the patron’s family.

Excuse me, Gabe, but this will only take a minute. It’s OK. I’m a tour guide. 

It was getting late, so lights were clicking off and bells were ringing to chase us out.

We hiked back to the hotel. On the way, we passed through Piazza Barberini, and Joanna wanted to take a snapshot of the crime scene.

While she was waiting for a bus to get out of the way, a group of young men, including a priest, thought she was trying to take a picture of them. So she did.

We were thirsty so we stopped for a bottle of water and a couple of Campari and sodas at a sweet shop on Via Veneto. The Campari drinks are all perfect here. Sometimes in the States the soda dilutes the liqueur, for a weak and salty flavor. 

This was the second Campari and soda I had taken on Via Veneto. I had one at Harry’s Bar last week. They don’t taste any better on this street than anywhere else, but it was kind of cool to sit at a sidewalk table and watch the people go by. 

Dinner was at the restaurant in the hotel. We had eaten pizza for lunch and decided to balance that with something lighter. We shared a mixed salad and plates of grilled vegetables and chicory in oil and lemon. Delicious combination, especially with the house red, Nobile de Montepulciano, a great combination of fruit, tannins, and spice from Tuscany. 

Dessert was not so light—tiramisu served in a parfait glass with layers of strawberries and champagne. 

After Sambuca and espresso and a little more wine in the room, I was ready to call it a day.

Good night, all.

May 18

Harry, this is fascinating, and fun.

In our beloved Firenze Alan had his wallet returned in the midst of a very crowded,  thronged with shoppers Piazza San Lorenzo. Alan hadn’t even missed it!

The vegetable-bread soup you described (in Firenze) I believe is ribollita. Once we discovered it we ordered it every time we was it on a menu.  We wish we were there.

Beatrice