So, on your left is Rocca Pia. It is quite a contrast to the elegant Church of Santa Maria Maggiore we just saw a few minutes ago, is it not? There is nothing subtle or welcoming about this massive stone block.
Back in the middle of the fifteenth century, Tivoli was tearing itself apart. The city was exhausted by deadly plagues, earthquakes, and endless, bloody feuds between two powerful noble families, the Colonna and the Orsini. By 1461, Pope Pius the Second decided enough was enough. But he did not build Rocca Pia to protect the people of Tivoli from outside invaders. He built it to protect himself from the people of Tivoli.
The Pope considered the locals to be turbulent and rebellious. This fortress, with an armed garrison stationed inside, was a direct, physical threat. The inscription over the entrance basically says I am kind to the good, but an enemy to the proud, because the Pope says so. Very neighborly.
But here is where the brutal, military pragmatism of the project really shows its dark side. The architects, Niccolò and Varrone, needed a prominent, secure spot just outside the historic walls. Unfortunately for history, the perfect spot was right next to a grand, ancient Roman arena that had survived for centuries. But the architects saw it only as a tactical liability. Terrified that enemy forces or local rebels might use the ancient ruins for cover, they gave a ruthless order. Every single Roman wall taller than three meters was systematically smashed to pieces. The debris was then swept up and dumped to fill in the trenches around the new castle. They literally crushed the city's ancient heritage to build a cage for its citizens.
The fortress itself is made of local tufo, a porous volcanic rock, shaped into four massive circular towers connected by high, thick walls. The tallest tower, the keep or main defensive stronghold, stands over thirty six meters high. Pope Pius tried to incorporate cutting edge military technology, making the walls incredibly thick to withstand the newly invented gunpowder cannons.
But military technology moved fast, and Rocca Pia was almost immediately obsolete. In fact, German mercenaries easily breached it during the Sack of Rome in 1527. As its military value vanished, it entered a strange new phase of life. When Cardinal Ippolito d'Este arrived to build his nearby villa, he simply fenced off the surrounding area as his private hunting reserve. Later, another Cardinal added a massive stable right against the fortress walls to hold over a hundred horses.
Eventually, the fortress found a much grimmer purpose. For over a century and a half, right up until 1960, it served as a prison. It crammed up to a hundred inmates into these circular towers. Older residents of Tivoli still vividly remember hearing the prisoners shouting out to the streets through the heavy iron grilles.
For over five hundred years, Rocca Pia was an alien, oppressive presence. But the story does not end there. In December 2018, the structure was finally handed over to the town and opened to the public. The ultimate symbol of papal control became a public space.
Now, I want to show you the scale of what was sacrificed to build this fortress. Let us take a short, one minute walk over to what remains of the Amphitheater of Bleso, just to the north.
