As the ruins strewn about the Forum indicate, Rome had a decline ... a fabled, steep decline.

That in itself is remarkable, but even more amazing was that once it hit bottom, Rome bounced.

The Dark Ages were unkind to the city. As his army failed to halt the invading northerners, the last Emperor snuck out of town in 476 C.E. Rome's population plummeted from a million or so inhabitants to less than 50,000. (Some estimates say it may have dropped to as few as 10,000.) The Forum silted in and became a grazing area. And for nearly 1000 years, all the action seemed to focus elsewhere.

Rome needed a boost. Only one source had both the influence and the funds to pull it off. And as luck would have it, he just happened to be the Bishop of Rome, also known as the Pope.

As the Dark Ages gave way to the Renaissance (circa 1300 C.E.), fashion once again dictated that cities compete with one another for artistic splendor and intellectual vigor. A succession of Popes did not want their holy city, seat of Church power, to play second fiddle to any other Italian city-state. Each Pontiff thus imported a platoon of supremely talented artists of all stripes to give Rome a fresh face.

And when you hire folks like Raphael, Botticelli, and the great Michelangelo, you get a world-class make-over. (More on that when I visit the Vatican later in the week.)

But let me rush ahead a bit to the period when the Renaissance was blossoming into the Baroque. Popes continued to champion great artists and fund great art. One such Baroque artwork, designed by Bernini and completed a century later by Salvi, was shoe-horned into a tiny piazza in an old Roman neighborhood. And on Sunday morning, I ventured forth to see, hear, and feel the spray from this masterpiece.

Even though you may have seen it dozens of times in the movies or on television, the Trevi Fountain remains a surprise, in the same way that you can be surprised by the giant size of a piece of cake … or of a full-grown mastiff … or of the US national debt. It seems enormous. If you placed this same fountain in a large field, it would still impress, but you could then see it growing as you approach. In contrast, the square where the Trevi spews and splashes is diminutive and hidden, and although you can hear the flowing waters, you don't actually see the fountain's dramatic beauty until you are practically falling into the pool at its base.

Thus, Trevi never gets seems small in comparison to anything. For the last 250 years it has grown out of the wall of its host building like a tempestuous trumpet, impossible to ignore when you are in its presence. The statues of Neptune reining his horses represent the irascible sea. Your eye is unsure where to focus, because everywhere, there is action, seen in both the stone and the water.

And such are the ways of the Baroque: Complex, detailed, and multifaceted. More on Bernini and the Baroque coming up later.