The Roman Triumph

The Capitoline, the Palatine, the Aventine, the Esqualine, the Caelian, the Viminal, the Quiranal: The seven hills of ancient Rome. ROME! ...the empire that conquered the world and lasted for a millennium.

According to legend Rome was founded by Romulus, one of twin brothers, sons of the war god Mars, who were raised by a she-wolf. In 753 B.C., using his plow, Romulus traced out the boundaries for a city wall on the Capitoline hill and thus was born the eternal city of Rome. On his deathbed Romulus declared to all: "Go proclaim to the Romans, it is heaven's will that my Rome shall be the capital of the world."

The Romans took him at his word and over the centuries became a powerful, conquering nation that controlled all of the known world.

Come with me now and let me paint for you a word-picture of those victorious, conquering legions marching back into Rome after a successful battle in that tumultuous victory processional known as...the Triumph.

It is a warm Spring day some time around the year 80 A.D. The emperor Titus reigns. The Empire stretches to the far corners of the known world bringing with it the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, and offering Roman citizenship to many of the conquered nations. Rome itself is now home to over one million citizens not to mention the hoards of slaves.

Today the crowds line the streets waiting in restless anticipation for the first sound and glimpses of the returning conquerers.

Here and there street vendors worm their way through the crowds hawking their wares of special sweets and honey cakes prepared for this festive occasion. A parade atmosphere pervades the entire city.

And then, far in the distance, down the highway...faintly, very faintly now you can hear the fanfare of trumpets as the Triumph approaches. Closer, closer...now you can hear the rhymical clop of marching feet and hooves as they strike the cobblestones of the Via Appia, the Appian Way. At their approach the crowd breaks into a deafening roar of cheers as first the standard bearers pass carrying high the banners of Rome and the conquering general, and a great reclining statue of the god Jupiter, protector of Rome.

Then come wagons laden with the spoils of war, the riches of the vanquished foe. Following the treasure wagons come the trumpeteers hailing their fanfare for the conquering general. The captured soldiers and their generals, bound in chains and with a blank expression of shock and hopelessness on their faces, plod before the conquering general who rides in a golden chariot drawn by snow white horses.

His children, robed in white, ride the trace horses. His eldest son rides beside him in the chariot.

Standing behind him in the chariot, a slave whispers continuously in his ear a warning...
"Sic omnia gloria transit...Sic omnia gloria transit." (All glory is fleeting.)

Following the conquering general march the senators, magistrates, and finally the soldiers themselves, sharing in the adoration of the crowds.

The Triumph continues down the Appian Way past the baths of Caracalla where Roman nobility while away the day in the libraries, gyms, and baths of the magnificent luxurious complex.

Swinging to the right the procession proceeds down the Vicus Tuscus past the Circus Maximus with the Emperor's palace overlooking the spectacle from high atop the Palatine Hill. In the Circus Maximus, the largest of the many public arenas in Rome, at times upwards of 260,000 spectators cram the marble tiers of seats to watch chariot races and bet on their favorites.

"A thousand denarii on Lucius Antonius of the blues!"

"Two thousand on Marcus Severus of the reds!"

But, today a more exciting and novel spectacle draws the crowds.

Now under the huge aquduct...

...then through the Arch of Constantine
the Triumph moves on majestically.

The huge Flavian amphitheater looms on the right with the massive golden statue, the Colossus of Nero standing near its main entrance. Much to the consternation of the Flavian emperors who built it, the amphitheater is better known by the name taken from that golden statue...

the Colosseum.

On any day it will be filled with 50,000 spectators watching in blood lust as hundreds of gladiators raise their weapons and cry "Ave Caesar, morituri te salutamus!" ... "Hail Caesar, we who are about to die salute you!" Then, they become locked in combat to the death with each other or hoards of enraged wild beasts till the sands of the arena are literally soaked in blood.

But, today the Colosseum is empty as all the hosts of Rome have turned out for the Triumph, which now swings to the left, away from the Colosseum onto the Via Sacra, the Holy Road, which leads into the heart of the city, the Roman Forum.

The Triumph marches past the multi-columned Temple of Venus and Roma...

Through the arch of Titus celebrating the emperor's victory over Judea...

Past the huge vaulted domes of the Basilica of Maxentius...

Past the house of the Vestals... and nearby the Temple of Vesta, the most sacred place in Rome where the Vestal Virgins keep a hearth fire burning constantly.

Past the Curia, the Roman Senate House where the Apostle Paul was placed on trial...

Past the entrance to the Mamertine prison where both Paul and Peter were imprisoned

...on and on the procession continues.

Finally, halting before the Rostra where every Roman citizen is afforded the right to stand and speak freely, the conquering general steps down from the chariot and as the cheers of the crowd reach a climaxing crescendo he mounts the steps to the Rostra where the emperor stands waiting to receive him.

With a slight motion of his hand the emperor bids the general approach. Dropping to one knee before his emperor the mighty general slaps his fist to his heart then outward, palm open in salute...

"Ave Caesar, Ecce ego sum triumphons."
("Hail Caesar, behold I am the victor.")

Suddenly...all is quiet...the scene changes. As you rise and turn from the Rostra and gaze out over the Forum, gone are the madly cheering crowds, gone is the triumphal processional, gone are the magnificent marble edifices.

All that remains are a few stark, weather-worn columns rising alone amid scattered ruins and rubble. We have returned to the present...and, as the gentle winds rustle through the grass now overgrowing the steps and streets of the forum, the words seem to echo out of the stillness and the quiet...

"Sic omnia gloria transit" ... "All glory is fleeting".