Eight Days in Rome, Day 7

[Author’s Note: This post is seventh of eight on this site that will recount a visit of Eight Days in Rome that transpired in September 2025. On that trip, my wife Carol, an art historian (PhD, Yale), contributed insights on art and other matters. Our son Matt, a prize-winning videographer contributed photos and insights. The overall narrative and construction are mine.]

Pincian Hill and Terrace

The Pincian Hill and its Terrace overlook the Piazza del Popolo in the north of Roma centro that lies immediately below. The view spreads to much of the rest of Rome though somewhat obstructed by trees looking to the west and south. One way to get there is to climb the steps from the Piazza and another is to take a bus from Via del Corso to the Borghese gardens. We wisely chose the latter.

​The ride up the hill in the bus from Via del Corso entered the gardens and left us a short walk from the Terrace overlooking the city. We lingered a while, enjoying the view and busker music, and then made our way down the steps to the Piazza del Popolo.

Santa Maria del Popolo

This church sits around the corner from the Piazza del Popolo. The main reason for our visit was to view two Caravaggio paintings of the same year (1601) that hang on opposite sides of the narrow Tiberio Cerasi (Papal treasurer) chapel designed by Carlo Maderno. The two paintings were part of the same commission and they continue to hang in the place of their creation on opposite sides of Annibale Carracci’s contemporary altar painting of the Assumption of the Virgin.
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For undisclosed reasons, the first versions of both Caravaggio paintings were either rejected by Cerasi or reconsidered by Caravaggio and the ones in situ are the second versions of both paintings.  The first version of The Crucifixion was either lost or destroyed while the first Conversion of Saint Paul is held in the Odescalchi Balbi Collection in Rome. It is quite a different composition.

The two existing paintings are in beautiful condition, highlighting Caravaggio’s style of dramatic tension between light and dark (“tenebrism”). Both paintings exhibit the baroque fixation on dramatic events at a moment in time. Given their lateral position in a narrow chapel, both are difficult to view except at a sharp angle from the side. It is likely that Caravaggio’s organizational structure of these two paintings, with their strong diagonal flow, was meant to draw eyes to them on the side walls. In both paintings, flashes of color (gray and pink) appear from cloths spread at the bottom and punctuate the otherwise somber tonal quality of the pictures.

The Crucifixion of Saint Peter, 1601

Emperor Nero reportedly crucified Saint Peter upside down around A.D. 64, allegedly at Peter’s request to differentiate his own humble death from that of Christ. Nero persecuted Peter and the Christians as scapegoats for the Great Fire of Rome that same year and as general threats to power.

Everything about this crucifixion painting is arduous and cements the intensity of its focus on the specific action at hand. It takes 3 men that look like beasts-of-burden with their faces anonymously concealed to hoist Peter on the cross and they struggle to do so. One of them gets his shirtsleeve entangled in the rope. Peter’s feet are soiled and dirty. The action evidently takes place at night with no lamenting onlookers. Peter seems physically fit in his 60s and mentally composed, appearing to glance outside the frame with neither fear nor pain. Only the 4 figures are bathed in light; the rest is darkness.
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The compositional flow forms an “X.” One diagonal line begins with the hands of the man on top and flows down the tenuously taught rope on his back to the feet of the man below grasping a shovel in his hands. The other line follows the downward diagonal of the cross. Not only is the “X” itself the shape of a cross but it holds the entire piece together and also serves as an emblem of Christ, since the Greek letter “Chi” is the first letter of Christ’s Greek name.

The Conversion of Saint Paul, 1601

The other painting is the Conversion of Saint Paul on the Road to Damascus around 35 A.D. Known as Saul, he was happily on his way to persecute Christians. In reports of this event, Saul is suddenly struck blind by divine light and a revelation of the resurrected Christ.
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Caravaggio depicts Paul dressed in soldier’s garb and evidently fallen, albeit from an unsaddled and rather common-looking horse. The horse was never part of the gospel story at all, but it adds a mass that solidly anchors the painting’s entire central section. The lack of a saddle raises questions about the circumstances of Paul’s tumble. Paul lies supine, arms outstretched, forming the “V” of an inverted triangle. He is totally incapacitated and helpless under the horse’s casually raised hoof. An unidentified man stands behind the horse, holding his bridle.

The Doria Pamphilj Gallery

It is difficult to characterize this museum and a full appreciation requires some preliminary setting of expectations and considerable time on site. It is a private collection of significant size situated in the city center on Via del Corso.

The palace itself dates from the 15th century, but the Doria Pamphilj family acquired it in the 18th century. The family’s power reached its apex with the election of one of its own as Pope Innocent X (1644-55). Several family members became cardinals and the family acquired a number of palaces. The Palazzo Doria Pamphilj in central Rome is one of those properties. It remains privately owned by the family and houses the Gallery. The latter contains one of Rome’s largest private art collections and was assembled over the years through bequests from various families that have been united by marriage.

On display is the palazzo itself, its furnishings and decorations, as well as the paintings and sculptures that fill every available space. It is a palazzo of large rooms and some intimate salons. There are long hallways, most of them stuffed with chairs, divans, and wall-side (console) tables as well as sculptures and paintings. Sometimes unexpected objects appear, like this apparent bed for a child that must have been born with a silver spoon in its mouth.

We didn’t count the number of chairs and tables, but it was surely hundreds, many of them quite similar. The ceilings are frescoed and the walls are papered. This should definitely appeal to fans of furniture and interior decoration of a certain era. It’s totally sumptuous.

The paintings are a different case. There is a vast number and the arrangement does not do justice to them. Nor does the lack of information and context. Some appear like they have never been cleaned and even outdoor landscapes show dark and somber. Most of the works are untitled but attributed to a presumed artist. Many of the artists are little-known, at least to us, but there are also well-known names represented by lesser works of art. Some are quite good but these are seldom displayed in ways that accentuate their virtues. Almost all of the many hundreds of paintings are hung to fit into a highly structured display scheme and many of these are placed too high to be seen well. As a result, it takes patience and a detective’s sharp eye to spot standout pieces. Some of those we noted and enjoyed are shown below.

​Hostaria Colline Emiliane, Via degli Avignonese, 22

​Somehow, we never managed to eat at Colline Emiliane before, despite having it on a list of prime targets on several occasions. It wasn’t easy to get a reservation, but this was the night to visit the legendary eatery tucked away in a non-descript alleyway not far from the Fontana di Treve.

This spot shifts the regional culinary spotlight from Lazio around Rome to the northerly region of Emilia-Romagna that spreads above Florence between the coasts. That is where freshness and simplicity reign. The pasta is made with eggs and are fresh, not dried, often stuffed and served with Parmigiana, not Pecorino. Pasta is the star of the show, handmade fresh daily at Colline Emiliane by Anna and Paola Latini who, since the late 1960s, have accommodated the likes of Fellini, Antonioni, Mastroianni and others.

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We shared a sampler platter of antipasti delle colline emiliane, which were fresh and tender examples of varieties of salumi plus unexpected treats like mousse di mortadella. It went nicely with a bottle of 2020 Nero d’Avola Sicilian red wine and a liter of San Pellegrino acqua frizzante. As main courses, two of us ordered the Ravioli di Zucca in butter/sage sauce and the third took Tagliatelli con porcini, both of them culinary harbingers of autumn and delicious.

​When dessert beckoned, we turned respectfully to Mousse di zabaione, Tiramisu con fragioline, and Tarte di fragolini con meringhe, which together created a sweet conclusion to an exquisite meal. At 139 euros for 3, it topped our restaurant expenditures but remained in the moderate range for 3 courses. It was well worth the wait to dine at Colline Emiliane.