Writing Assignment 9: Identity

I was perplexed, perhaps even overwhelmed, by the question presented , "what and who is Italian?" My immediate reaction was, who am I to answer such a complex question?  I have been a resident of Rome for less than three months, during which my most intimate interactions were with other Americans.  I speak only the most rudimentary of Italian. To present a complete and accurate theory about Italian or even Roman identity would require a lifetime of integration in Italian society, and perhaps even then the answer is not accessible to outsiders for they can only mimic what it feels like to be Italian, unable to deconstruct the borders so rigidly in place. The question, in truth, is not even a single question, Italian encompasses so much more than a single homogenous populace.  What and who is gypsy? What and who is a Moroccan immigrant to Italy? What and who is Neapolitan? Plagued by these thoughts I was unable to find the words within myself to answer that question.  I do not know the answer to that question.  Do not ask me to gift-wrap Italy into an easily palatable souvenir to take home.
Eventually inspiration struck in the form of a long train ride, a powerful song and the writings of someone more experienced than myself.  In an essay entitled 'On Curiosity' Alain de Botton writes, "Curiosity might be pictured as being made up of chains of small questions extending outwards, sometimes over huge distances, from a central hub composed of a few blunt, large questions.  In childhood we ask, 'Why is there good and evil?' 'How does nature work?' 'Why am I me?' If circumstances and temperament allow, we then build on these questions during adulthood". It is that final of the three questions that resonated with my struggle to define Italian identity.  This fermented for about an hour until shuffle decided to instigate my thought process with Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" an intensely emotional song for me personally.  The song provoked a moment of introspection and I queried, ‘Why does this song have such a profound effect upon me?’ ‘Why is it I that cling so tightly to the concept of Journey being my favorite band?’  Because it is idiosyncrasies such as this that define me, that are the building blocks of my identity.  As this thought permeated my consciousness my recent reading bubbled to the forefront.  In tandem they provided me with the answer to my conundrum. If as de Botton suggests all questions surrounding identity originate from that single query, ‘Why am I me?’ then maybe that is where I should begin my search for Italian identity. I was only looking at the question from a single angle; perhaps through answering how Italy has affected my own identity some insight may be gained into an aspect of Italian identity.
It is not the Italians of today, those contemporary, increasingly globalized people, that I feel have truly had a profound impact me. Perhaps that is because I did not present them with the opportunity to change me, but at this juncture that is no more than the whisper of regret. The Italians who invaded my thoughts and usurped my dreams are the men long lost to history, now more legend than man. Agrippa Borromini, Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Bernini these are the names that I will remember, poignant examples of what man is capable of achieving.  It is certainly arguable that I am straying from the original focal point of Italian identity, that these men, the youngest of which died 330 years ago, no longer represent what it is to be Italian.  However, I would argue that these men by the very virtue of their reputation’s longevity serve as paragons of Italian identity.  It is quite short-sighted to conclude that Italian identity, an identity that has existed for millennia, is defined solely by the Italians alive in our present, it is a cumulative concept, each generation building upon the layers passed down to them. These men in particular should still be considered active members of Italy for they have left their mark quite literally and visually. Is it not true that Italians take national pride in The David, The Pantheon, Pluto and Persephone and any number of other edifices and sculptures left behind by Italy’s artisans and architects? If these artifacts are associated with what is “Italian” how can their creators be anything but integral pieces of what it means to be Italian.
This is what I am taking away from Rome, Inspiration.  As I may have verbalized in a previous blog entry this voyage was not about academics, so much as it was about puzzling together who I am, and what it is I should do with this whole life thing.  While the puzzle is by no means solved my experiences abroad have certainly added a piece or two and hopefully in the process I have added a piece or two to Italian identity as well.

Writing Assignment 7/8: A Tale of Two Train Stations

"Don't bring your laptop. It will get stolen." With those words ringing in my ears (and my laptop in my backpack) the train rolled slowly into what had been described to me as one of the most dangerous places on earth, Napoli.  Supposedly it is inhabited by the scum of the earth, a criminal underworld so underworldly that hell itself provides it with complimentary heated floors.  Here morality is turned on its head as Greed, Corruption and Violence are treated as virtues rather than vices.  As the train screeched to a slow, almost deliberately dramatic stop, the thought of simply remaining seated until I was safely returned to Rome flitted across my consciousness, but then the moment was gone, driven from my mind as quickly as it had arrived by the rat race for baggage as everyone on the train simultaneously decided to exit as expediently as possible.  I paused at the door of the train and sort of peered out to ascertain that setting foot in Napoli wouldn't involve instantaneous mugging. Seeing no eminent danger I cautiously ventured forth out of the train station and into this Mecca for malicious men, my eyes darted back and forth in an attempt to look in all directions simultaneously.  My imagination picked up on the frenzied action of my eyes and everyone I passed was granted an illusory bio.  I brushed by serial killers, waited at cross-walks with rapists, burglars brazenly walked by and coke-dealers and prostitutes populated every city block.  My clammy palms clenched my wallet protectively fearful that if I let it go for even an instant the nigh supernatural abilities of the cities pick pockets would magic it away. Sweat leaked out of me, which I managed to convince myself was due to the balmy weather (in February) and the rigorous pace rather than the trepidation that permeated my thoughts.  This continued for twenty five minutes and concluded when we arrived at the cheerfully named, Hostel of the Sun, which was in fact quite cheerful, despite my initial misgivings.
My return to the station two days later was pretty much the polar opposite.  If you took my initial experience inverted everything and then played it backwards you would end up with my return experience.  At this point I had become quite tired of being paranoid, it's exhausting attempting to maintain a three hundred and sixty degree view of your surroundings.  Not only that, I ended up talking to some of the prostitutes and serial killers, with some hesitation I might add, and surprisingly enough they did not in fact kill people or sex people for a living, they had respectable professions, bakers, bankers, bus drivers and the like. The people seemed almost intentionally contrary to my preconceived notions about them proving in general to be some of the nicest Italians I had met to date.  Now given I did not test my newfound confidence that Naples wouldn't leave me mugged, murdered or molested.  I didn't wander through the streets alone at night nor did I frequent the reputedly dangerous districts, but then again I don't do those things (much) in Rome or Seattle.
Termini. I don't know if I've ever been so happy to see someplace in my life.  Despite having initially planned to visit Pompeii and the Amalfi Coast following our trip to Naples, I found myself on the first possible train back to Rome.  At some point during the last few weeks of our program I came to the realization that I had fallen desperately in love with the Eternal City.  However I was unable to pinpoint when this shift had occurred.  Now as I reflect upon my trip to Napoli I wonder if that emotional border was crossed the moment my feet hit the platform and Roman air hit my lungs that Friday evening, for it was then for the first time that coming back to Rome felt like a legitimate homecoming.  I was stressed and Rome provided the relief of familiarity, of belonging. Each time I departed Rome and returned I brought with me some newly added intangible element, a new opinion or comparison, but it also allowed me to appreciate Rome.  To quote 50 Cent, even though he is not exactly an academic source, "Joy wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't for pain." The concept is essentially the same, in order to realize my affection for Rome it had to be juxtaposed by an alternate city, in this case Naples.  This is not to say that I am equating Rome to joy and Naples to pain, although some may find the comparison astute.  What should be taken away from the comparison is the underlying truth that something is valued because of what it is not almost more so than for what it is. Rome is architecturally exquisite and historically unrivalled but it is only because there are other cities in the world that do not share those characteristics that Rome is valued as one of the most amazing cities in the world.

Rione di Trevi

Where is the heart of Rome? What is the heart of Rome? Is it a statue? A church? or can it not be contained within something so specific? What about a rione, one of Rome's demarcated neighborhoods or regions, for example, Trevi.  Even that large of a region perhaps cannot contain the heart of Rome, the city is simply too complicated, it does however present a rather compelling argument.  

Trevi is old, very old the area has been part of Rome since the time of the Republic although  it didn't become named Trevi till a few hundred years later.  The name supposedly is a corruption of the Latin word trivium roughly translating to three ways or paths.  This was a reference to three roads that converged on the piazza that is now Piazza del Crociferei, right next to the Trevi Fountain.  It is also reminiscent of the popular saying "All Roads Lead to Rome".  The rione's coat of arms consists of three swords in parallel either horizontally or diagonally across a red background, another allusion to the motif of the three paths.

 Borromini's Chiesa San Carlo

Speaking of trinities Trevi is home to several important edifices of the Catholic church.  The most notable, or at the very least the largest is Quirinal Palace.  Constructed during the sixteenth century to serve as a summer palace for the papacy several popes liked it so much that it became the official papal residence year round.
It served this purpose until 1870 when the Papal State's rule of Rome came to an end.  The palace has served other important purposes since, which we will touch on later.  Being home to the pope obviously set a certain overtone for the district and there are  several churches throughout the rione, including two within a block of each other that provide an excellent comparison between the architectural styles of Boromini and Bernini.  The rione also houses a school for Catholic priests.  One church, the Church of San Vicenzo and San Anastacio, contains the heart of the church in an eerily literal manner.  The hearts of more than thirty popes from the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are interred here.  Plaques on either side of the high altar list their names.  It was customary to remove certain of the pope's organs when he died, a surprisingly pagan seeming tradition.

 Quirinal Palace

Coming back to the Quirinal Palace, after 1870 the palace became the residence of the Kings of Italy as they assumed the place of power from the popes both literally and figuratively.  Even Napoleon chose to make Quirinal his headquarters in Rome during his brief sovereignty. In fact he liked it so much he had intended to make the area the political center of Rome, a concept that survived longer than his reign.  In 1946 the palace once again changed hands becoming the presidential residence as Italy celebrated its new republican form of government.  The gardens of the palace are open only one day a year on June 2 to celebrate this independence day.  Today the area has succeeded in becoming the political hub Napoleon wanted it to be, directly across the street from the Qurinal is the Italian Supreme Court, housed in Palazzo della Consulta.  The court consists of 15 judges appointed in equal parts by the president, the parliament, and by administrative courts.

Quirinal is not the only palace  in Trevi, quite the opposite in fact, the rione is home to a plethora of palaces of some of the oldest and wealthiest families from Rome's history.  Two notable examples are Palazzo Barberini and Palazzo Poli, whose facade is graced by the Trevi Fountain.  Palazzo Barberini is a beautiful example of baroque architecture one of many projects that was began by Boromini and finished by his rival Bernini.  Today the palace houses a national art gallery with famous pieces by artists like Rafael. 

 Bernini's Fontana de Tritone

Obviously the name Trevi brings to mind the Trevi fountain and we'll get to that but there are a few other notable fountains located in the area.  In Piazza Barberini, not to be confused with the Palazzo discussed above, there are the only two fountains in the rione that were designed by Bernini, despite the common misconception that he created the Trevi Fountain.  In the center of the square is the Fountain of the Triton, depicting a triton blowing a conch shell while being lifted up by dolphins.  In one of the corners of the square there is another Bernini fountain, this one significantly humbler.  It is simply a large clam shell bedecked with three bees, the symbol of the Barberini family who commisioned it.  A short walk from there are the four fountains, an intersection where each corner is graced with a fountain.  Two have male central figures and these represent the Tiber River and the Arno River, which are associated with Rome and Florence respectively.  The other two have female figures and these are commonly assumed the Goddess Diana and the Goddess Juno.

The most important fountain is of course the one that shares the name Trevi.  It is the terminal fountain for the Aqua Vergine, one of the oldest and purest aqueducts in Rome, dating back to the golden age of Augustus and Agrippa.  The fountain was finished in 1762 after being worked on for more than thirty years, a process that outlived the architect who designed it, Nicola Salvi.  The fountain is a beautiful example of both baroque style art and architecture combining them seamlessly in completely unique way. Today the fountain is constantly swarming with tourists throwing coins into the fountain hoping it will grant them a return trip to Rome, as per the local legend.  Over 3000 euros are tossed in every day a sum that is collected and used for charitable purposes. This is only a brief synopsis for the full history of the Trevi Fountain please read my blog post titled Aqua Through the Ages: A Retrospective of the Trevi Fountain.

Trevi is a rione that is central to Rome both physically and metaphorically.  It is located right in the heart of Rome atop the highest of the seven hills.  It has served as headquarters to Rome's aristocracy for centuries, including popes kings and presidents.  The Aqua Vergine flows out of it like the lifeblood of Rome, providing health and prosperity.  Trevi may not be THE heart of Rome but it is certainly a heart of Rome. There is a reason that it is to Trevi that travellers offer up  their wishes to return.

Aqua Through the Ages: A Retrospective of the Trevi Fountain

The Trevi Fountain is complicated; it is the culmination of a two millennia old style of propaganda and perhaps the most powerful representation of water ever made by man.  In order to truly appreciate its intricacies one must delve deeply into the past. Our story begins all the way back in the year 312 BC, the year that water was invented, albeit not exactly in a literal sense.  It was the year that the Roman Republic constructed its first aqueduct, the Aqua Appia. Now as you can imagine constructing a several kilometer long structure is pretty pricey, somewhere along the lines of constructing a modern day highway.  The Roman's found an elegant solution to this problem; they would just take other people's money and spend it on aqueducts.  The first few aqueducts were all funded by spoils of war, the Appia for instance, is believed to have been paid for by booty from the Samnite War.  Approximately forty years later, around 272 BC, the Roman's constructed their second aqueduct, the Anio Vetus.  Designed with the intent to be complimentary to the Appia, it provided water to parts of Rome that the other aqueduct had trouble supplying.  Its construction was also funded by a successful military campaign, the Pyrrhic War.  After that Roman aquitecture was stagnant for 130 years, until finally in 144 BC, following the conquest of Carthage and Corinth in 146, Praetor Marcius Rex was instructed by the Republic to oversee the construction of a new aqueduct as well as the repair of the Anio Vetus and Appia, which after 130 years had become quite leaky.  It is worthwhile to point out that this is the first refurbishment of Roman aqueducts, as it will become something of a motif over the course of the paper. During the next four years Marcius built a 96-kilometer long aqueduct, that quickly gained renown for the purity of its water. In fact after it was built it is estimated that up to 80 percent of its water was used solely for drinking purposes.  After having done such a great job, Marcius Rex decided that he deserved to have it named after himself, and so it became the Aqua Marcia.  A few years later in 125 BC the fourth aqueduct, the Aqua Tepula was finished.  In direct contrast to the Marcia, the Tepula gained a poor reputation for having warmer, less potable water.  Little else is known about the original Tepula as it was completely redone by the person we will discuss next.

Another 85 years pass before, the Empire, as it has now become, deals with the issue of water again.  In 40 BC Emperor Augustus appoints Marcus Agrippa as his head engineer and architect.  Now Agrippa might be the single most important figure in the history of aqueducts.  Up until this point aqueducts had been added piecemeal, when the need or financial opportunity presented itself.  Agrippa on the other hand presented a comprehensive water supply system that involved the remodeling of the Tepula as well as the construction of two entirely new aqueducts. With the firm support of Emperor Augustus he implemented this concept over the two decades following his appointment.  Agrippa's first step was to construct the Aqua Julia which he completed in 33 BC, shortly after that he renovated the Tepula so that its waters mixed with that of the much more abundant Julia.  This was nothing short of genius, it allowed Rome to continue to use both aqueducts and greatly improved the quality of the Tepula while the Julia was only marginally affected.  Fourteen years later Agrippa completed his final aqueduct the Aqua Virgo.  A number of legends surround the discovery of this water source.  The most popular holds that a young virgin led Agrippa and his soldiers to the source.  The Virgo surpassed even the Marcia in quality and quickly became known as the purest water in Rome.  These three aqueducts played complementary roles in Agrippa's urban plan.  The Tepula was allocated mostly for the use of private citizens who were influential enough to have the privilege of running water in their homes.  The Julia on the other hand saw a large fraction of its yield used for public monuments such as fountains.  Much of the Virgo was used for nomine caesaris, the emperor's will, this included anything from providing water to palaces to enabling the emperor's monuments and projects such as the Baths of Agrippa which were located right at the Virgo's terminus.  In 2 BC, several years after Agrippa's death, Augustus constructed the Aqua Alsietina essentially for the sole purpose of providing water to his artificial lake the Naumachia.  The name literally translates to naval combat, which was in fact the primary use of the lake, mock naval battles. It is noteworthy that Augustus chose to build an entirely new aqueduct rather than interfere with Agrippa’s precisely calculated distribution system for the rest of Rome.

While Augustus and Agrippa were not the first to provide water to the city of Rome they were the pioneers of using water as a propagandistic tool.  The appeal of aesthetically pleasing terminus and fountains is twofold, not only do you demonstrate commitment to the beautification of the city through their construction, the provision of potable water exhibits that you are able to provide for the basic necessities of the populace.  As stated above Augustus was responsible for the construction of four aqueducts, in and of itself worthy of praise.  Two of these were directly linked to huge structures associated with his reign, the Baths of Agrippa, a colossal bathing facility in the heart of Rome and the Naumachia, which I mentioned earlier.  In addition Augustus oversaw the formation of The Statio Aquarum, a government entity charged with regulating water use in the city, and who better to lead such an organization than Agrippa.  Within the first decade of its existence, Marcus Agrippa constructed 500 fountains and 700 public basins across Rome.  Augustus and Agrippa successfully managed to associate their leadership with water an extraordinary feat of public relations, and one that is emulated even to this day.  The emperors that came after, including Trajan and Claudius, continued this tradition constructing aqueducts of their own.  At the peak of the Roman Empire there were 11 fully functional aqueducts, combined they spanned more than 435 kilometers and provided the city with as much as 300 million gallons of water everyday.  This water was then distributed to 1300 public fountains, 11 greater baths, 867 smaller baths, 15 nymphaea, or great fountains and 2 artificial lakes.

There is no doubt that the ancient Roman’s were exceptional architects and engineers, and the aqueducts were one of their crowning achievements. When I mention aqueducts the mental picture that probably comes to mind is of the long bridge-like structures that litter the area around Rome.  However, of the 435 kilometers of aqueduct that existed at the height of ancient Rome, only 65 were aboveground. In order to truly appreciate how incredible of a feat it was to construct these aqueducts more than two thousand years ago was it is helpful to at least have a basic understanding of how they function.  The Roman’s harnessed what is perhaps the most renewable energy source on earth to power their aqueducts, gravity, water runs down hill, it is as simple as that.  The tricky part was making it so that it was downhill all the way from the source back to Rome.  In order to accomplish this the Romans used a number of engineering techniques.  The most common was the aforementioned bridge systems which they would use to span valleys and gaps.  In areas where this was not feasible, they used something called an inverted siphon, which is a gravity-pressurized pipeline that can be used to force water uphill. This technique is astonishingly similar to the methods used by hydraulic engineers today in water and sewage pipes.  Another amazing feat was the precise slope or gradient that they were able to impose over incredibly long distances.  The most dramatic example of this is the Pont du Gard, which is an aqueduct in southern France constructed by the Romans; it drops only 17 vertical meters over a distance of 50 kilometers. Somebody did their geometry homework. This isn’t an exceptionally abnormal example either it was quite common for an aqueduct to drop less than a meter over a kilometers length.  Beyond simply building structures that were capable of carrying water from miles away, the Romans demonstrated a surprisingly sophisticated understanding of hydraulics. From analysis of their architecture it would seem that they had at least a rudimentary knowledge of dissipation of energy, aeration, and surges and other instabilities in flow. In order to deal with these concepts they introduced several works of engineering including the stilling basin, series of drop-shafts and rudimentary filtration systems.

Due to a number of factors, including the Great Schism and the papacy's temporary rule at Avignon the aqueducts remained largely in disrepair till the 15th century.  The one exception being Pope Adrian I, who during his reign from 771 to 795 ordered that the Aqua Virgo and Aqua Claudio be repaired, a political move that was nearly 600 years ahead of its time.  Following the papacy's return to Rome Nicholas V was the first Pope to take an active role in the restoration of the city.  He ordered a full restoration of the Aqua Virgo and changed its name to Aqua Vergine.  In addition he returned to the precedent set by the ancient Roman Emperor’s and commissioned a new fountain for the Vergine’s terminus, that would of course bear his name and coat of arms so as to remind the people of his efforts to bring them water. This work was completed by Leon Battista Alberti.  After that a full century passed before someone truly picked up the torch.  Gregory VIII is often nicknamed “the fountain pope” for his extensive commissioning of fountains and other aquatically themed structures.  He was responsible for the restoration of Aqua Claudia.  His successor, Sixtus V, continued in his footsteps, completing several projects that Urban began including the fountain in front of the Pantheon as well as the two side fountains in Piazza Navona.  His most significant contribution though was his renovation of the Aqua Alexandriana, which he then appropriated by renaming it the Aqua Felice, which was his first name.  At this point the trend of using aquitecture as a tool of propaganda had firmly caught on among the Popes.

In 1629 Urban came to the conclusion that the Aqua Vergine lacked a sufficiently grandiose terminus and decided that a fountain to rival the Aqua Paola and Aqua Felice should be constructed.  Of course the papal golden boy Bernini was chosen to design this fountain that would supposedly amaze the known world. Bernini submitted plans that included moving the current terminus to the north side of the Piazza, where it is currently located, as well as tearing down buildings so as to increase the size of the square.  These details were primarily to provide the Pope with a view of the fountain from Quirinal Palace. Although the design was accepted, the plan unfortunately encountered other opposition.  The project was the subject of severe public disapproval due to the proposed method of funding it.  Urban planned to deconstruct the tomb of Caecilia Metella for building materials as well as propose a tax on wine for finances, neither of which were popular. After that setback the project did not really progress, most likely because of the pontificates budget, or perhaps due to the extensive amount of papal contracts that Bernini held.  When he died in 1680 the fountain was abandoned completely having accomplished nothing more than moving the terminus and making a bigger piazza. After the unpopularity of the fountain project none of the succeeding popes even touched upon the idea of finishing the Vergine terminus until Clement XI (1700-1724).  Clement wanted to move the Antoine Column and place it on a foundation of rough rocks, however this plan failed due to a lack of papal funds.  Benedict XIII (1724-1730) Clement’s successor also proposed a plan involving a sculpture that included the Virgin Mary, the Virgin Trivia, a pig, some oak trees and a unicorn. Fortunately that was abandoned upon Benedict’s death

Finally in 1730 the concept of an exquisite terminus for the Aqua Vergine finds a new patron when Pope Clement XII ascends to the pontificate.  Shortly after his appointment Clement held a design contest for what would become the Trevi Fountain.  Four entries were submitted, however the Pope found none of them satisfactory and promptly organized a second competition which he insisted popular artists and architects in Rome enter.  Sixteen designs were entered in this competition; the unanimous winner was a man by the name of Lambert Sigisbert Adam.  Unfortunately, he was French, and the idea of a Frenchman constructing such an important Italian monument roused the public's ire and supposedly due to their malcontent Adam was dismissed as the projects architect.  Adam himself presented an alternate excuse, claiming that he had angered his academy by not requesting permission to enter the contest, and had therefore been recalled to Paris.  The contract then passed to a man by the name of Luigi Vanitelli, a talented Lombard who suggested incorporating the entrance of Palazzo Poli into the fountain. However he too was dismissed for unknown reasons after a few weeks.  At this point the duty fell to the third place architect in the second competition, Nicola Salvi.  Salvi came to the architectural profession late in life, after dabbling in poetry and mathematics, he apprenticed himself to one of the premier architects in Rome.  The Trevi Fountain was essentially his first, and only, major work; before being appointed to that project his most notable achievement was constructing towers for fireworks shows.  One might assume that the construction would proceed smoothly now that an architect had finally been selected, however in keeping with precedent the project continued to be plagued by delays.  In the same year he began Salvi was ordered to stop temporarily for unknown reasons although it is guessed that it was one of the members of the Poli family who was concerned about what he was doing to the façade of their palace.  The public also played a very vocal role in the construction due to the manner in which much of the project was funded, through lotteries.  This meant that if the people were unhappy with the fountain they could simply boycott the lottery, allowing the public a certain amount of control, and for much of the project they were very critical.

When it wasn’t external forces slowing the process it was Salvi himself, constantly changing his designs; at one point when the rock basin was nearing completion, he stopped progress so that he could redo major sections of it.  Besides Salvi his main sculptor Maini was also a bit of a perfectionist and at one point work ceased for six months because they couldn’t come to an agreement about changing the models of the central group.  One man wrote, “Work has been suspended, because the sculptor Maini has refused to ruin his work by following the ideas of the architect.”   This feud continued for nearly six months during which no work was completed on the fountain, at one point Maini and Salvi destroyed the current stucco models in a fit of rage, further inhibiting progress.  Salvi lived long enough to see the water turned on in the fountain, which happened in 1743, unfortunately though he died in 1751 ten years before the fountain was officially declared finished.  Maini followed shortly after in 1752 and Benedict XIV, who did not quite share his predecessors ambitions as a builder completed no further work on the monument during his reign.  In 1758 Clement XIII ascended to the papal throne and brought with him as much passion to finish the Trevi Fountain as the previous Clement.  Since no construction had been completed on the monument in 5 years Clement faced the task of appointing a new architect and a new sculptor.  He turned to a man named Giuseppe Pannini to replace Salvi and appointed one of the more popular sculptors in Rome, Pietro Bracci, to finish carving the Oceanus group out of marble.  These two seemed to mesh far better than the previous pair and work progressed quickly.  Documents from the time indicate "all the work for the Fountain of Trevi was competed in three years and one month."  In May of 1762 the fountain of Trevi was declared finished, 133 years after the idea was first proposed.

The Trevi Fountain stands as a testament to the power of water utilizing the element itself in its glorification.  Salvi himself wrote about the theme of the fountain, "the image must embody an impression of power which has no limit and is not restricted in the material world by any bounds.  It is completely free and always at work in even the smallest parts of the created Universe."  It is to this idea that the Trevi stands testament.  It blends numerous architectural, aquatic and sculptural elements so skillfully that it is often difficult to discern where one ends and another begins.  The eye runs seamlessly from splashing water past travertine and up the pilasters to the facade of the palazzo and then back down into the fountain again.  The integration of water and naturally stylized stone with the architecture of the building suggests a triumph of nature or specifically water over civilization.  The fountain also contains dozens of references supporting the theme, some allegorical, some historical. Oceanus strides out of an arch-like section of the facade reminiscent of the triumphal arches of ancient Rome.  The connection to the ancients does not stop there, two bas relieves flanking the central group tell the history of the Aqua Vergine.  The one on the right depicts the Virgin Trivia showing Marcus Agrippa and his legionnaires the spring that feeds the Vergine, while the left portrays Agrippa overseeing the construction of the aqueduct.
In the central group two tritons ride before Oceanus leading sea horses.  One leads a calm, placid sea horse while blowing a conch to announce his master's arrival; the other struggles to control his wildly rearing mount.  This juxtaposition signifies the dual nature of water, at times peaceful and at others furious.  Six allegorical figures grace the facade, one on either side Oceanus and another four up near the pediment.  These six figures represent the beneficial effects that water provides.  Fertility stands at Oceanus' right holding a cornucopia, at her feet water spills from an overturned urn and flowers spring up where the water falls. On the left hand stands Health holding a bowl from which the sacred snake, a symbol often associated with medicine, drinks.  Rising to the four figures above they represent from left to right The Abundance of Fruit, The Fertility of the Fields, The Gifts of Autumn, and The Amenities of the Meadows and Gardens.  Each was done by a different sculptor, in total 9 worked on the Trevi.  The fountain also contains some incredibly minute details more than 30 different types of flora are carved into the base, each residing in a realistic location in the artificial terrain, another way of signifying the water's bountiful side.  The fountain is graced with the names of three popes, Clement XII, Benedict XIV, and Clement XIII, making it perhaps the best example of the papacy using water as a tool of propaganda.  Each pope who contributed ensured that the public would remember them as having contributed this gift of beauty and sustenance.

Today the Trevi Fountain no longer fulfills its propagandistic role in the same fashion.  It has become a tourist Mecca constantly swarmed by people in khaki shorts with cameras. Its popularity has given rise to a number of myths involving throwing coins into the fountain.  One holds that a single coin tossed into the fountain will grant you a return to Rome within your lifetime.  That has since been elaborated upon to include a second coin granting new romance and a third coin will result in either marriage or divorce depending on your marital status.  A simplified and popular version merely believes that throwing three coins into the fountain with one's right hand over one's left shoulder will grant the thrower good luck. On a busy day the fountain nets more than 3000 euros, an astronomical figure.  The money is collected and used for charitable purposes with local currency going to a nearby soup kitchen and international coins being donated to the Red Cross.

Bibliography:
Pinto, John A. 1986. The Trevi Fountain. Binghamton, NY: Yale University Press.
Evans, Harry B. 1982. Agrippa’s water plan. American journal of archaeology, 86, 3: 401-411.
Cooke Jr., Hereward L. 1956. The documents relating to the fountain of Trevi. The art bulletin, 38, 3: 149-173. 
Aicher, Peter J. 1993. Terminal display fountains (“Mostre”) and the aqueducts of ancient Rome. Phoenix 47, 4: 339-352.
Morton, H.V.. The Fountains of Rome. The Macmillan Company, 1999.