Temple of Saturn

Stand still for a moment and feel the ground. Under your shoes is old paving, worn smooth and uneven, warm in the afternoon sun. Above you, eight tall columns rise from a high platform of stone. They hold up a heavy band of carved blocks, but no roof. Swallows cut across the gap where a roof once stood. Behind you, the voices of the Roman Forum carry on the air. This is the Temple of Saturn, one of the oldest sacred sites in the heart of ancient Rome.

You are at the western end of the Forum, right at the foot of the Capitoline Hill. Roman tradition placed the first temple here in the early fifth century before Christ. That was in the first years of the Republic, soon after Rome expelled its kings. Very little of that early building survives. What you see now is the result of rebuilding after rebuilding. Fire, war, and time all came back again and again. The Romans kept returning to restore it.

So who was Saturn? For the Romans, he was an ancient god of farming and the sowing of seed. Many people linked him with the Greek god Cronus. Legend tells that Saturn once ruled Italy in a golden age. In that age the earth gave food freely, and there were no slaves and no private property. Romans looked back on that time with longing. The idea of plenty helps to explain what happened inside this building.

Here is the first surprise. This temple was not only a place of worship. It was also the state treasury of Rome, called the aerarium. The vaults in the podium beneath the temple held the public money of the Republic. Gold, silver, and official records were kept here. The god of abundance stood guard over the wealth of the state. Look at that tall podium now, and think of it as a strongbox as much as a base.

That treasury had a dramatic moment in 49 BC. Julius Caesar marched on Rome during the civil war and needed money. According to the ancient writer Plutarch, a tribune named Metellus stood in his way at the treasury door. Caesar warned him that it would be easier to kill him than to threaten him. Metellus stepped aside. Caesar took the funds. The story shows how power in Rome moved from law to force in those years.

A few years later, a general named Lucius Munatius Plancus paid for a major rebuilding of the temple. Rich commanders often used war spoils to fund grand public buildings. It was a way to win fame and favour with the people. But that version did not last forever either. Later, a great fire swept through this part of the Forum and badly damaged the temple. Historians still discuss exactly when that fire happened and when the repair followed.

Now look up at the long band of stone above the columns. A Latin inscription runs across the front. It reads, roughly, that the Senate and People of Rome restored what fire had consumed. You may recognise the first words from the letters S P Q R, still seen on drain covers across the modern city. That short sentence is the main record of the last great rebuilding. It is a public promise in stone that the city would not let its temple fall.

Here is the second surprise, and it is easy to miss. That late restoration was done with reused materials. The builders took pieces from older buildings and fitted them together. Look closely at the columns. The shafts are made of granite, and they are not all the same. Some appear grey, others carry a pinkish tone. Some sections do not match in size or finish. The capitals at the top, with their spiral curls, are in the Ionic style, a Greek style marked by scroll shapes.

This patchwork tells you something real about Rome in its later centuries. The empire was under strain. Fine new marble was harder to get. Craftsmen worked with what they had and made it stand. Instead of seeing the temple as perfect, see it as a careful repair. It shows centuries of people choosing to keep this place alive. That choice is part of why these columns are still standing above you today.

Inside the temple once stood a statue of Saturn himself. Ancient writers say that the feet of the statue were bound with woollen bands for most of the year. Once a year, in December, the bands were loosened. This marked the start of the Saturnalia, the great winter festival. People exchanged small gifts and lit candles. Masters and slaves could even swap roles for a day. Some customs of later winter celebrations may echo this old festival.

Turn slowly and look around you. Close by stands the Arch of Septimius Severus, with its carved battle scenes. A few steps away are the three tall columns of the Temple of Vespasian. Just beyond is the Portico of the Harmonious Gods, a row of columns tucked against the hill. Above, the great stone wall of the Tabularium, Rome's old record office, carries the later palace of the Capitoline. Layer sits on layer here.

The road that climbs past the temple toward the hill is the Clivus Capitolinus. Generals in triumph rode along this route toward the Temple of Jupiter on the summit. Crowds would have pressed along these stones, cheering and throwing flowers. Nearby, the Romans also set up a gilded milestone. It was a symbolic point from which distances across the empire were measured. Standing here, you are close to what Romans once treated as the centre of their world.

Before you move on, take one more look at those eight columns. Notice how the light changes on the granite as clouds pass. Notice the gap between the columns, where you can see the sky and the hill behind. Listen to the footsteps around you, the same ground walked by priests, senators, and treasury clerks. As you walk away, glance back once. The temple will still be there, holding up its promise in stone, as it has for a very long time.