Word: tiber
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Trastevere is a boisterous, reeking, junglelike quarter that lies across a turbulent stretch of the Tiber river quite apart from most of Rome. The Trasteverini think the separation is fine. They like their dizzy labyrinth of alleyways, the Queen of Heaven jail and the little shop where the baker's daughter and the artist Raphael lived and lusted 400 years ago. They also delight in the dark, heavy-bosomed beauty of their women, the deftly handled stiletto and heroic quantities of dry, amber Frascati...
Trastevere has been the tenderloin of Rome ever since the Romans first settled across the Tiber. It achieved its earliest fame by supplying Rome's toughest gladiators and most durable prostitutes. Since then it has energetically produced a steady stream of hoodlums, revolutionaries, first-class soccer teams and the most colorful nicknames on the Italian peninsula (Trasteverini know each other by such names as the Mosquito, the Tub and the Big Balloon). "We don't quite know how we got to be different from everyone else," said the Mosquito last week as he polished up the wine glasses...
...ravaged Continent is beauty, and, startlingly, peace. Not peace in the pitched battle for Europe's faith and allegiance, nor peace in the daily battle for bread and hope, but the kind of peace that happens simply because life must continue. From the Clyde to the Tiber, the face of Europe is still scarred, yet these new scars-like the older ones at Athens, Rome and Nimes-are becoming part of Europe's peace. Europeans have learned long ago that the danger which always threatens even their stoutest cities and their most cherished lands is not the result...
Over the Ponte Fabricio to Tiberina Island moved a long file of brown Franciscan nuns, the rustling of their robes lost in the rushing Tiber below. Soon solitary groups swelled into crowds; the tide of people stirred all over Italy-fishermen with bare, brown ankles and ruddy-faced mountain men and pale white-collar workers and factory hands with red kerchiefs and robed bishops and small-town women with babies in their arms. In many churches, Mass times were shifted so that the faithful would find it easier to reach the polls when they opened at 8. Priests read...
...Hour. Next day, across the Tiber, the white-clad Pope stood on a balcony beneath the brilliant spring sun. Below him lay the immense Piazza di San Pietro and, in its encircling colonnades, a multitude of more than 350,000 people, who overflowed into the adjoining streets and lined the nearby roofs. Overhead swooped two planes, scattering Christian Democrat leaflets urging the listeners to vote; the tolling of St. Peter's eight-foot bell and the music of the Vatican's band stirred the throng, whose banners read "Christ or Death." With raised hands, the Pope cried: "This...