ROME LETTER:Despite the capital's ruins being a magnet for millions of tourists, a lack of tender loving care is evidenced by their crumbling state
THE OTHER morning – it was fortunately very early – three sizeable chunks of mortar fell off the face of the Colosseum. No one was injured as the mortar crashed to the ground, taking with it some protective wire netting.
So, what does this mean? Is one of the world’s most-famous and most-visited monuments in danger of collapse? Or is this just another footnote to add to the long list of problems experienced by ancient Roman monuments? You hardly need to be a genius to conclude the modern world has not been kind to the Colosseum.
Thousands of Rome’s two million-plus cars rumble by every hour, an underground train shakes the foundations some 30m (98ft) below ground, four million visitors per year stomp all over the site and the capital’s alarming smog levels (one day in five, they exceed EU limits) have all done their damage. As if all that were not enough, the earthquake in L’Aquila in April of last year further tested the old building, with the tremors managing to do some relatively minor damage.
As always, this latest incident involving ancient Rome’s most wonderful monuments has the environmentalist lobby up on its hind legs, and probably with good reason. “The Colosseum is in danger, the smog is eating away at it, slowly but inexorably. This is no longer the time for discussion, this is the time to chase away all the cars from around the Fori Imperiali ,” said the Lazio section of environmentalist lobby Legambiente.
Coming just a few weeks after 60m of Nero’s Domus Aurea collapsed, just across the road from the Colosseum, this latest mishap is setting alarm bells ringing.
So, is the alarm justified?
In theory, no one is better-placed to answer than architect Roberto Cecchi, who last May was appointed by the Berlusconi government to the role of “delegated commissioner for the realisation of urgent operations in the archeological areas of Rome and Ostia Antica”.
When he met the resident foreign press corps last week, however, Cecchi had one less-than-reassuring observation to make. What the Colosseum needs, he said, is constant maintenance rather than any specific restoration.
“Maintenance is an act of love . . . It is an act of knowledge and affection,” he added.
Surely, it is just an act of good husbandry? So, what was Cecchi saying – that, in fact, there is no established routine, no regular maintenance of one of the world’s most wonderful monuments?
I was puzzled by this observation so, at the end of the briefing, I checked it out again with the commissioner.
Did I hear you correctly, is there really no established maintenance system? I had heard correctly, all right.
Cecchi repeated his observation, pointing out that, in modern times Rome local authorities have dealt with the Colosseum, as indeed with any other piece of ancient Rome, on an “if-it-ain’t-broke, don’t-fix-it” basis. If something goes wrong, they move in. Otherwise, let the Colosseum and the Forum get on with it, earning in and around €30 million per year from tourists.
Lest we do not get the point, Cecchi has repeated it in two “reports” he has put together on the state of the city’s “archaeological patrimony”.
In the introduction to his preliminary report, he puts it this way: “We are going to have to carry out very expensive interventions to make up for the lack of maintenance, a maintenance that should . . . form the basis of the conservation of our cultural patrimony. That is why in our planned operations, we speak about a ‘general project of programmed maintenance’ because we consider this a strategic objective but which, paradoxically, we can call innovative.”
He is certainly right about the “paradox”. It beggars belief that, until now, no such systematic maintenance has been put in place.
Mind you, I suppose the old Colosseum is used to it. Until Pope Pius VII got in on the act in the early 19th century, buttressing a crumbling outer wall, no one had ever bothered to do any type of preservation.
Until then, in effect, the Colosseum had been a sort of open quarry.
When modern tourists first look at the Colosseum nowadays, they are often puzzled by all the holes in the great blocks of the building. Those were made in the Middle Ages when folk, who had forgotten how to make iron, would steal the metal cramps that held the blocks together.
As for the immediate future, Cecchi has some ambitious plans. Yes, he would like to limit traffic and turn the whole Forum, Colosseum and Circus Maximus area into one huge, pedestrian zone.
This would seem obvious but different local authorities have been trying unsuccessfully to sell that one to modern Romans for at least 30 years now.
He also intends to re-organise the way the Colosseum itself is used, taking bookshops, toilets and all other services out of the building and putting them next door, as well as calling for a ban on rock concerts in the building’s surrounds.
Furthermore, the city authorities are looking for sponsors for a €23 million “restoration”, called for by the commissioner.
Will such plans be enough? Watch this space, or indeed the falling mortar.