The Makers of Modern Rome, in Four Books — A Closer Reading

A Personal Lens on Medieval Rome

The preface is unusually candid about the author’s limitations and intentions. Mrs. Oliphant states she is “not trained in the ways of learning” and that her work has been “much interrupted by sorrow and suffering.” This admission sets a tone of humility and directness. Rather than claiming authority, she positions herself as a thoughtful observer, “a mind a little exercised in the aspects of humanity.” The reader is thus invited to expect a narrative driven by character and moral reflection rather than by scholarly debate. The dedication names three individuals—F. W. O., M. W. O., and F. R. O.—who lie “under the walls of Rome,” grounding the history in personal loss. This framing suggests that the book’s emotional weight will be as important as its factual content.

The Election of Innocent III: A Scene of Power

One of the most vivid excerpts describes the election and consecration of Pope Innocent III in 1198. Mrs. Oliphant notes that the cardinals insisted on his election, “not granting him even a day’s delay to think over it,” and that he was invested with the pluvial and greeted as Innocent “apparently leaving him no choice even as to his name.” The narrative dwells on the tension between the pope’s professed reluctance and his evident ambition. After his consecration, Innocent delivered a discourse “in which the highest pretensions, yet the most humble faith, are conjoined.” The author observes that he “was no heaven-born preacher” but was “very ready to exercise his gift.” This balanced treatment—acknowledging both the political calculation and the genuine piety—exemplifies Mrs. Oliphant’s method of presenting historical figures as complex human beings.

The People as Historical Actors

Book III, “Lo Popolo: and the Tribune of the People,” shifts focus from ecclesiastical power to the Roman populace. The table of contents lists chapters on “The Deliverer,” “The Buono Stato,” and “The Soldier of Fortune,” indicating a narrative arc that follows popular movements and their leaders. The excerpt from the election scene shows the crowd reacting with “cries of joy” and accompanying the pope-elect to the Lateran. Mrs. Oliphant describes “the ever-abundant masses of the common people” as a constant presence, though she does not idealize them. The phrase “Lo Popolo” itself suggests a collective protagonist, yet the author’s treatment remains critical: she notes the crowd’s composition of clergy and commoners, and she includes Muratori’s skeptical note about possible date discrepancies. This careful handling of sources—acknowledging scholarly doubt while maintaining narrative flow—characterizes her approach to popular history.

Structure and Style: Four Books, One City

The book’s four-part structure creates a chronological sweep from the fourth to the fifteenth century, but each section has its own internal logic. Book I focuses on aristocratic women like Melania, Paula, and Marcella, who shaped early Christian Rome. Book II traces the papacy from Gregory the Great through Innocent III. Book III centers on the medieval commune and Cola di Rienzo. Book IV returns to the popes as builders of the Renaissance city. Mrs. Oliphant’s prose is marked by long, flowing sentences and a tendency to speculate about motives—she writes of Innocent’s “momentary resistance” that “there is no need to suppose that there was any hypocrisy.” She frequently addresses the reader directly, as when she notes that “nobody will expect in this book… the results of original research.” This conversational tone, combined with vivid set-pieces like the consecration scene, makes the work accessible without sacrificing detail.

Readers approaching The Makers of Modern Rome should expect a narrative that prioritizes character and drama over dry chronology. Mrs. Oliphant’s strength lies in her ability to animate historical figures—whether a reluctant pope or a Roman matron—by focusing on their humanity. The book rewards those who read it as a series of interconnected portraits rather than a systematic history. Pay attention to the author’s asides and personal reflections, which often reveal her own sympathies and judgments.

That rainy afternoon, Mrs. Oliphant’s Rome felt less like history than a conversation overheard—women and popes jostling through centuries, all breath and ambition. Later, drying the book’s spine, I reached for something else on the shelf, and found The Discovery of America Vol. 1 (of 2) with some account of Ancient America and the Spanish Conquest — Edition Insights beside it. Strange, how one empire’s twilight quietly becomes another’s dawn.