it. It was divided into
four huge quarters--Anglo-Saxon, Latin, Teutonic and Eastern--besides
Trastevere, which was occupied almost entirely by Papal offices,
seminaries, and schools. Anglo-Saxondom occupied the southwestern
quarter, now entirely covered with houses, including the Aventine, the
Celian and Testaccio. The Latins inhabited old Rome, between the Course
and the river; the Teutons the northeastern quarter, bounded on the
south by St. Laurence's Street; and the Easterns the remaining quarter,
of which the centre was the Lateran. In this manner the true Romans were
scarcely conscious of intrusion; they possessed a multitude of their own
churches, they were allowed to revel in narrow, dark streets and hold
their markets; and it was here that Percy usually walked, in a passion
of historical retrospect. But the other quarters were strange enough,
too. It was curious to see how a progeny of Gothic churches, served by
northern priests, had grown up naturally in the Anglo-Saxon and Teutonic
districts, and how the wide, grey streets, the neat pavements, the
severe houses, showed how the northerns had not yet realised the
requirements of southern life. The Easterns, on the other hand,
resembled the Latins; their streets were as narrow and dark, their
smells as overwhelming, their churches as dirty and as homely, and their
colours even more brilliant.

Outside the walls the confusion was indescribable. If the city
represented a carved miniature of the world, the suburbs represented the
same model broken into a thousand pieces, tumbled in a bag and shot out
at random. So far as the eye could see, on all sides from the roof of
the Vatican, there stretched an endless plain of house-roofs, broken by
spires, towers, domes and chimneys, under which lived human beings of
every race beneath the sun. Here were the great manufactories, the
monster buildings of the new world, the stations, the schools, the
offices, all under secular dominion, yet surrounded by six millions of
souls who lived here for love of religion. It was these who had
despaired of modern life, tired out with change and effort, who had fled
from the new system for refuge to the Church, but who could not obtain
leave to live in the city itself. New houses were continually springing
up in all directions. A gigantic compass, fixed by one leg in Rome, and
with a span of five miles, would, if twirled, revolve through packed
streets through its entire circle. Beyond