As I looked at that sculptured goddess on that classical column,
my mind went back another historic stage, and I asked myself
where this classic and republican ideal came from, and the answer
was equally clear. The place from which it had come was the place
to which I was going; Rome. And it was not until I had reached Rome
that I adequately realised the next great reality that simplified
the whole story, and even this particular part of the story.
I know nothing more abruptly arresting than that sudden steepness,
as of streets scaling the sky, where stands, now cased in tile and brick
and stone, that small rock that rose and overshadowed the whole earth;
the Capitol. Here in the grey dawn of our history sat the strong
Republic that set her foot upon the necks of kings; and it was from
here assuredly that the spirit of the Republic flew like an eagle
to alight on that far-off pillar in the country of the Gauls.
For it ought to be remembered (and it is too often forgotten)
that if Paris inherited what may be called the authority of Rome,
it is equally true that Rome anticipated all that is sometimes
called the anarchy of Paris.
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