Near the Church of Sta. Francesca the Via Sacra passes under the _Arch of Titus_, which, even in its restored condition, is the most beautiful monument of the kind remaining in Rome. Its Christian interest is unrivalled, from its having been erected by the senate to commemorate the taking of Jerusalem, and from its bas-reliefs of the seven-branched candlestick and other treasures of the Jewish Temple. In mediæval times it was called the Arch of the Seven Candlesticks (septem lucernarum) from the bas-relief of the candlestick, concerning which Gregorovius remarks, that the fantastic figures carved upon it prove that it was _not_ an exact likeness of that which came from Jerusalem. The bas-reliefs are now greatly mutilated, but they are shown in their perfect state in a drawing of Giuliano di Sangallo. On the frieze is the sacred river Jordan, as an aged man, borne on a bier. The arch, which was in a very ruinous condition, had been engrafted in the middle ages into a fortress tower called Turris Cartularia, and so it remained till the present century. This tower originally formed the entrance to the vast fortress of the powerful Frangipani family, which included the Coliseum and a great part of the Palatine and Cœlian hills; and here, above the gate, Pope Urban II. dwelt in 1093, under the protection of Giovanni Frangipani. The arch was repaired by Pius VII., who replaced in travertine the lost marble portions at the top and sides. "Standing beneath the arch of Titus, and amid so much ancient dust, it is difficult to forbear the commonplaces of enthusiasm, on which hundreds of tourists have already insisted. Over the half-worn pavement, and beneath this arch, the Roman armies had trodden in their outward march, to fight battles, a world's width away. Returning victorious, with royal captives, and inestimable spoil, a Roman triumph, that most gorgeous pageant of earthly pride, has streamed and flaunted in hundred-fold succession over these same flagstones, and through this yet stalwart archway. It is politic, however, to make few allusions to such a past; nor is it wise to suggest how Cicero's feet may have stepped on yonder stone, or how Horace was wont to stroll near by, making his footsteps chime with the measure of the ode that was ringing in his mind. The very ghosts of that massive and stately epoch have so much density that the people of to-day seem the thinner of the two, and stand more ghost-like by the arches and columns, letting the rich sculpture be discerned through their ill-compacted substance."--_Hawthorne, Transformation._