Whoever has approached the Eternal City from the sea must admit the fidelity of the above picture. As Civita Vecchia was 1400 years since, so is it now. The artificial island, with its twin-towers at the mouth of the port; the long moles stretching out to meet it; the double passage, narrowed almost to a closing of the jaws; the amphitheatre of water within, overhung by the houses of the town, and sheltered from every wind—will be at once recognised. It would seem to have remained in statu quo ever since it was built by Trajan. Yet the original town was almost utterly destroyed by the Saracens in the ninth century ; but when rebuilt, the disposition of the port was preserved, by raising the moles, quay, and fortress on the ancient foundations, which are still visible beneath them.

It is possible, in ancient times, when the ruler of the world made it his chosen retreat, and adorned it with his own virtues and the simple graces of his court, that Centum Cellæ may have been, as Pliny found it, “a right pleasant place” —locus perjucundus.