Palazzo dei Conservatori

Listen for a moment. The noise of Rome's traffic fades as you reach the top of the Capitoline Hill. Underfoot, the paving of the square spreads out in a curving star pattern. Ahead and to your right, a pale stone facade rises in tall, calm columns. A row of arches opens into deep shade. This is the Palazzo dei Conservatori, and it has looked out over this square for centuries.

The name comes from the Conservators. These were the elected magistrates who managed the civic life of medieval Rome. While the popes ruled from the Vatican, this hill stayed the political heart of the city itself. The Capitoline was the smallest of Rome's seven hills. It was also the most sacred. In ancient times, the great Temple of Jupiter stood here, the religious centre of the whole Roman world.

The building you see today is largely the work of Michelangelo. In the sixteenth century, the papacy asked him to redesign the whole hilltop. He planned the square, the stairs, and new faces for the buildings around it. But Michelangelo did not live to see it finished. Other architects, Giacomo della Porta among them, carried his plan forward after his death. So the palace is his design, built by other hands.

Now look closely at the facade. Notice the huge flat pilasters, the column shapes set into the wall. Each one runs straight up through both floors. Architects call this the giant order, and Michelangelo used it here with real boldness. It ties the two storeys together into one strong rhythm. Below, smaller columns frame the open portico. The large and the small work together, and the building feels both grand and human in scale.

Here is the first thing many visitors miss. This palace is part of the Capitoline Museums, often described as one of the oldest public museums in the world. The collection began in 1471. That year, Pope Sixtus the Fourth gave a group of ancient bronzes back to the people of Rome. It was a gift to the city, not to a prince or a church. That idea of art belonging to the public began on this hill.

Before you go inside, step into the courtyard. Here you meet giant pieces of marble. A head taller than a person. A hand with one finger pointing upward. A knee, a foot, a piece of an arm. These are fragments of a colossal statue of the Emperor Constantine. It once sat inside a vast basilica down in the Forum. Standing beside that foot, you can begin to imagine the full size of the figure.

Inside, one bronze draws more attention than any other — the Capitoline Wolf. She stands tense, ears pricked, while two small boys drink beneath her. They are Romulus and Remus, the twins of Rome's founding legend. According to the story, a she-wolf saved them as infants. For a long time, people believed the wolf was ancient Etruscan work. The Etruscans were a people who lived in central Italy before Rome's rise.

And here is a second surprise. Recent scientific studies have suggested the wolf may actually be medieval. The debate continues among scholars. What is certain is that the twins came much later. They were added during the Renaissance, centuries after the wolf was cast. So the most famous image of Rome's ancient origins may be a blend of different eras. That makes it no less powerful as a symbol of the city.

Nearby, look for a quieter bronze. A young boy sits and bends forward, pulling a thorn from his foot. Italians call him the Spinario. He is absorbed, private, completely unaware of the visitors around him. Sculptures like this one were studied and copied by Renaissance artists. The museum also holds a bronze head known as the Capitoline Brutus. Its stern face has looked out at visitors for generations.

Upstairs, the rooms open into grand halls covered in painted scenes from Roman legend. One of these is the Hall of the Horatii and Curiatii, named after a legendary duel between two sets of brothers. This room has a modern story too. In 1957, European leaders signed the Treaty of Rome here. That agreement helped create what later became the European Union. Ancient myths on the walls, modern Europe at the table.

In a bright, glass-roofed hall, you find the original bronze statue of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius on horseback. The figure in the square outside is a copy. This original was moved indoors to protect it from weather and pollution. It survived the Middle Ages partly because people thought it showed Constantine, the first Christian emperor. Here too, you can see massive stone foundations from the ancient Temple of Jupiter.

The palace also holds a picture gallery. Among its paintings are works by Caravaggio, the Baroque painter known for sharp contrasts of light and shadow. Look for his scene of a young man having his fortune told. As he looks into her eyes, the girl slips the ring from his finger. There is also a marble Medusa by Bernini, her hair alive with snakes. Take your time here. These rooms are often calmer than the halls downstairs.

When you step back out into the square, pause under the portico. Feel the cool stone of the columns. Look across to the matching palace on the other side, and to the senate building at the back. Then walk to the edge and look down the long, gentle ramp of stairs to the streets below. The noise of the city returns slowly. Behind you, the Conservators' palace keeps its quiet watch over the hill, as it has for centuries.