Letter from Rome/Paddy Agnew: Up behind the Janiculum - the splendid hillside that overlooks the Tiber from the Trastevere and Vatican side - is the Porta San Pancrazio. For those who have come to know modern Rome through a car windscreen, this is a notorious bottleneck with fast-flowing traffic from three different directions channelled into a single offshoot road.
As one fights through the rush-hour chaos, it is hard to imagine that this was the scene of an important moment in the formation of modern Italy. It was here, in June 1849, that Giuseppe Garibaldi fought desperately to defend the short-lived "Roman Republic" in the face of French forces, winning battles not only at Porta San Pancrazio but also at Palestrina and Velletri outside Rome. Eventually, he had to flee north to the Adriatic coast in the wake of the inevitable fall of the four-month long "Republic".
Born out of the political turmoil of 1848, the "Roman Republic" had only been declared in February 1849 - at a constituent assembly which Garibaldi himself had attended. Pope Pius IX had, by this stage, high-tailed it out of town headed for Naples. From there, he appealed to the French and the Spanish to help free Rome "from the enemies of our most holy religion and civil society".
Recalling the battle at Porta San Pancrazio, the English historian George Macaulay Trevelyan has pointed out that it represented only a temporary setback on the road to an Italian unity that was realised with the definitive taking of Rome in 1870.
This, of course, was much to the chagrin of Pope Pius IX, who declared himself a prisoner of his 109-acre Vatican state, refused a state pension and excommunicated Savoy King Victor Emmanuel and his government.
"It was here that Italy bought Rome, here at the San Pancrazio Gate in 1849 that her claim on Rome was staked out and paid for; 21 years passed and then, in 1870, the debt was acquitted," wrote Trevelyan.
All of this not-so-far-off history flashed through your correspondent's mind last Saturday at the school cross-country races in Rome's Villa Pamphili. Villa Pamphili is a splendid large park which houses an equally splendid 16th century villa and is to be found up the road from the Porta San Pancrazio.
So, there we were on a gorgeous, bright, sunny morning, mingling with the usual Saturday assortment of Roman joggers, cyclists, walkers, kite-flyers and work-out merchants when the morning tranquillity was rudely broken by some distinctly military sounds. The team from the US base in Naples was doing its pre-race, psych-out thing. Trotting along in Marine formation, it shouted in loud and angry voices such novel concepts as: "How fast are we? Too fast!" or "Do you want to win? Do you!?!" Partly to put some distance between myself and the pre-race theatre (you have guessed it - the Naples team won everything in sight, both boys' and girls' races), I walked across the park, up towards the Villa Pamphili itself. While climbing the hill that leads up from the eastern side, it became obvious why historians refer to the Villa as a "military key" to 19th century Rome - and why the French had opted to make a stand there.
Originally built by Cardinal Giovanni Battista Pamphilj (later to become Pope Innocent X - he reigned as pontiff from 1644 to 1655), the Villa certainly commands the surrounding terrain. Reports have it that Garibaldi and the Bersaglieri suffered heavy losses as they made charge after charge up the hill in face of French gunfire. Here, too, it is worth pointing out that this dramatic page in Italian history has a somewhat spurious connection with modern Ireland. Garibaldi made his headquarters about 300 yards down the road from the Porta San Pancrazio, in Villa Spada, which today is the site of the Irish Embassy to the Holy See.
Pottering about the Villa Pamphili park last weekend, caught between delicious post-race brownies (even the parents get to eat them) and historical reminiscences, I was struck by a familiar thought. As a celebrated book title would have it: "Roma, non basta una vita" (Rome, a lifetime is not enough). Indeed, it is not.