On the Trail of Conan Doyle: from Via Appia to Maywand
On the Trail of Conan Doyle: from Via Appia to Maywand is an article written by Marco Grassi published in "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle : Viaggio in Italia / Italian Journey" edited by Gianluca Salvatori, Enrico Solito & Roberto Vianello, in 2012 (Bobi Bazlen Edizion).
On the Trail of Conan Doyle: from Via Appia to Maywand
By Marco Grassi.
This investigation takes its first steps from the pages of the beautiful volume curated by the "Uno Studio in Holmes" (USIH) association, dedicated to Conan Doyle's Grand Tour in Italy during his honeymoon with his second wife.
In this book, the couple's itineraries have been meticulously reconstructed by examining the photographs from the writer's personal photo album, taken during the journey.
The reconstruction of their movements around Rome, which took place in October 1907 and was thoroughly described by Stefano Guerra, concluded with the newlyweds' carriage at the Aurelian Walls near Porta San Sebastiano. Additionally, there was another photograph of Conan Doyle standing in the countryside in front of a group of mysterious and solitary ruins — the only stop on the journey that remains unidentified.
When the publication of this remarkable work was presented to us during the Venice conference in 2012, this unresolved mystery sparked in me the desire to seek a solution, with the spirit of Watson trying to adopt the methods of his friend.
I thus set out with a copy of the photograph, venturing through the main archaeological areas of the Roman countryside, following the route of the Appia Antica, along which the couple was traveling at the time the photo was taken beyond Porta San Sebastiano. I also considered other possible routes, such as the Via Latina.
 |
 |
 |
 |
The initial examination of the major archaeological complexes, such as the Villa of the Quintili, the so-called Villa of the Sette Bassi, and the remains of the Villa delle Vignacce near the ancient aqueducts, revealed a considerable number of structures and ruins that appeared similar to those in the photo with Conan Doyle. However, none of the examined sites matched in shape or arrangement.
Nonetheless, it was also necessary to consider that the appearance of those ruins might have changed significantly or even been destroyed, as revealed by photographs of restoration work along the Via Appia.
Or the photographs documenting the collapse of a wall of the Villa of the Sette Bassi in 1951, followed by further collapses, the most recent of which occurred in 2014.
I therefore initiated a parallel topographical investigation using photographs of the Roman countryside taken between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, starting with the photographic archive of the Primoli Foundation.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
This archive consists of thousands of photographs taken by Count Giuseppe Napoleone Primoli (1851–1927), a noble descendant of the Bonaparte family, a great art collector, and a passionate pioneer of photography in Rome. His noble title naturally granted him access to social events and the opportunity to form friendships with prominent figures such as Guy de Maupassant, Eleonora Duse, and Gabriele D'Annunzio, whom we can see portrayed in a photograph alongside Count Primoli.
Numerous photographs taken between 1890 and the late 19th century depict various individuals engaged in fox hunting in the Roman countryside near the Roma Vecchia estate, so named at the time for its monumental ruins, which extended from the Via Appia to the Via Latina.
At the time, this event had become a highly fashionable ritual for the upper bourgeoisie and aristocracy, ever since it was introduced from England by George Stanhope, 6th Earl of Chesterfield, who in 1842 organized the first fox hunt in the Roman countryside with Count Livio Odescalchi, bringing numerous horses and packs of Foxhounds from the United Kingdom.
During these events, Count Primoli naturally had plenty of opportunities to photograph aristocrats and distinguished guests, such as Sarah Bernhardt.
Among these hundreds of photographs taken in the Roman countryside, the following one, with ruins in the background, immediately caught my attention due to its striking similarities.
The clues are undoubtedly significant: the foreground element is certainly a funerary monument of the Appia Antica, while the structures in the background display many details that correspond to the photograph with Conan Doyle.
At this point, it is clear that the solution to the mystery must be sought in the millennia-old history of the Appia Antica and in the archaeological maps that preserve its memory, which I believe warrants a brief focus.
 |
 |
 |
 |
The "Regina Viarum" (Queen of Roads), as it was renamed by the poet Publio Papirio Stazio in the 1st century A.D., was constructed by the censore Appio Claudio Ceco in 312 B.C.
Starting from Porta Capena, the great gate in the city wall, call Mura Serviane, it was originally meant to end in Capua, but it was extended to Benevento and eventually to Brindisi.
The funerary monuments that travelers could admire when exiting the walls during the Republican era were progressively replaced by the grand villas of wealthy Romans during the Imperial period, and later by the sanctuaries built near the catacombs during Christian pilgrimages.
Tombs and mausoleums were incorporated into medieval fortifications, but by the Renaissance, the remnants of classical antiquity inspired writers and artists, while in Rome, the cult of ancient art began to enrich the precious collections of the Pamphili, Borghese, and Corsini families.
With the first prints of the Ruins by Giovan Battista Piranesi, the first rudiments of archaeological studies spread, which, along with the paintings of the great 18th century vedutisti, contributed to the growth of the romantic myth of the Grand Tour in Italy, from which the heirs of European aristocracy could naturally not abstain.
The picturesque landscapes created during these travels also provided a significant contribution to the reconstruction of the original appearance of the monuments depicted, such as the following images.
Taken from a portfolio of 226 drawings made by Carlo Labruzzi for Sir Richard Colt Hoare, whom the artist accompanied on a journey along the Via Appia in October 1789.
Among the many canvases of that period, we can find the ruins painted by John Linton Chapman, or the picturesque views of Rome and Tivoli, which hosts our conference, created by a painter who is very special to us. This is, in fact, Claude Joseph Vernet (1714-1789).
 |
 |
 |
 |
Probably the great-great-grandfather of Sherlock Holmes, as our investigator reveals in The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter, the grandmother belonged to the Vernet family of painters. Between the 18th and 19thcenturies, the direction of studies that began with the Enlightenment evolved into a new scientific rigor, which added the historical value of excavation and conservation of heritage to its aesthetic value.
Under Napoleon's administration in Rome, the idea of the Appia Antica as an open-air museum was born, and the first experiments in monumental reconstruction were founded by Antonio Canova, the famous sculptor appointed in 1802 as inspector of antiquities, who reassembled the first architectural facades using marble fragments inserted between brickwork.
However, to reach the investigations that concern us, the most extensive work of identification and reconstruction was completed between 1850 and 1853 by architect Luigi Canina, commissioner of antiquities for the Papal government in Rome. With him, the idea of conserving ancient remains in their original locations was consolidated, with a meticulous procedure of cataloging and orderly reconstruction.
Thus, it was during these years that the brick façade we see in Primoli's photo was constructed, near the 4th mile of the Via Appia, where fragments of the monument identified by Luigi Canina as the tomb of the children of Sesto Pompeo Giusto were reassembled. This monument, with inscriptions carved into the stone in the 1st century B.C., mourns with anguished sorrow the premature death of the children.
All of this work of identification and reconstruction was carefully and thoroughly documented by Luigi Canina in a book published in 1853, which has become fundamental. In this book, for the first time, it is possible to find a name for our presumed mysterious ruins behind Conan Doyle.
 |
 |
 |
 |
These pages tell us that the ruins behind the sepulcher, rising about 50 meters from the road, belonged to a podium temple with three apses, a staircase, and a pronaos with four columns. This conclusion was drawn because, before government excavations in the area, various remains of granite and Corinthian capitals were discovered nearby. Unfortunately, as Canina lamented, these remains had been transported elsewhere. Nothing was known about this building, which tradition attributed to the tomb of a prince from the late empire. However, Canina believed he could identify these ruins as the remains of a temple dedicated to the god Jupiter, as it corresponded to the one mentioned in the Acts of the Martyrs, ancient second-century writings about the persecution of Christians, which described it as being near the Pago Sulpizio at IV Miglio (the fourth mile) of the Appian Way.
The large cella would therefore have housed statues of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva in its niches, following the tradition of the Capitoline triad, surrounded by a colonnaded portico, of which Canina provides us with a detailed reconstruction, next to the tomb of the sons of Sesto Pompeo.
This is the attribution that has remained in topography, allowing us now to trace its images left through various eras, from the drawings of Carlo Labruzzi in 1879; to the 19th-century canvases of Arthur John Strutt; To arrive at the images at the end of the century among the photos taken by the famous Alinari brothers, which finally allow us to make comparisons with Conan Doyle's photo.
 |
 |
 |
 |
In the photo cataloged as the House of Santa Marmenia, the Tomb of Saint Urbano, and the Temple of Jupiter, we are located several dozen meters perpendicular to the right of the Via Appia, among the excavations of the Domus Marmenia. These excavations were carried out by the brothers Giambattista and Bernardo Lugari, who purchased the land in this area in 1879 with the purely philanthropic purpose of conducting archaeological digs. In fact, the street that currently intersects the ancient Appian Way in front of our temple is dedicated to the Lugari brothers.
Examining this photo, beyond the tomb of Saint Urban and almost on the horizon, we can glimpse the remains of the Temple of Jupiter, to the left of the Via Appia, along which the first seedlings of the future pine forest were beginning to grow. Even though we are quite distant from the ruins, the orientation of the viewpoint appears to be almost identical to that in Conan Doyle's photograph.
But it is the subsequent photo that offers us such a wealth of details and correspondences that it now allows us to dispel any doubt. Conan Doyle's photo was taken right in front of the remains of the Temple of Jupiter. But what has become of these ruins? Moving forward in time once again, in the next photo, we can see that these ruins have also begun to collapse.
Taken by Luciano Morpurgo, this photo from the photographic archive of the Ministry of Cultural Heritage shows a dirigible in the sky, most likely the Zeppelin LZ 120, which was ceded to Italy after the Great War and renamed Esperia. It remained in service between 1921 and 1927 and was also used to capture panoramic photos of the Roman territory.
Let us now try to trace the ruins along the ancient Appian Way as it appears today. We can easily identify the tomb of the sons of Pompeo but the ruins we are interested in can easily escape the notice of an unobservant viewer.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
The ruins of the Temple of Jupiter are nestled in the undergrowth, separated from passersby by a fence. Today, they are almost entirely covered by shrubs and vegetation, making their identification nearly impossible. (In the image on the right, the simulation was created by overlaying the Alinari photo).
The cadastral survey and the long-standing issue of public acquisition, which began with a decree in 1965 and remained ineffective for decades, may partly explain the neglect of these ruins. The only visible part now appears further damaged, likely due to the wounds inflicted on the entire area during World War II.
The land is, in fact, owned by the Ecclesiastical Foundation Istituto Marchesi Gerini, and here we could delve into one of the many stories closer to gossip than to Roman chronicles.
It is enough to know that Marquis Alessandro Gerini, a Christian Democratic senator and, above all, a well-known building contractor, died in 1990, leaving his entire estate — estimated at around 660 million euros and 927 hectares of property scattered across Rome — to the ecclesiastical foundation. His will sparked a long series of legal battles initiated by disinherited heirs, which are still dragging on in the Roman courts today, with various twists and turns.
However, the real twist emerged from the Archivio Primoli, in images of the Roma Vecchia estate, where another distinguished Englishman was captured among the ruins.
Among the first photos I examined related to fox hunting, I had come across a couple on horseback among the ruins of the Villa of the Sette Bassi. In subsequent photos, this revealed Count Primoli's friendship with the family of a rather important English military officer.
 |
 |
 |
This man, portrayed on horseback alongside his daughter, was Colonel John Ramsay Slade, military attaché at the British Embassy in Rome from 1887 to 1895. That was the year when Prime Minister Francesco Crispi resumed his aggressive colonial policy in Abyssinia, also attempting to secure the protection of the British government.
It is well known among Holmesians, thanks to the valuable research conducted by members of our association, that in that same year, Crispi had Conan Doyle's permission requested to publish the story of the naval pact in the newspaper Il Giornale (a namesake of the current one) under the title The Stolen Treaty.
This story was deliberately presented as true, likely with the aim of exacerbating old tensions with France and currying favor with the British government — all without Conan Doyle's knowledge. Meanwhile, Conan Doyle was awarded the Order of the Crown of Italy.
At the same time, not only Conan Doyle but also Colonel Slade found himself entangled in the intrigues of Italian colonial politics. After the defeat at Adwa and Crispi's resignation, Slade departed for Abyssinia as part of the General Staff alongside General Antonio Baldissera to rescue the 1,400 Italian soldiers besieged in the fortress of Adigrat, earning himself the Grand Cross of the chivalric Order of santi Maurizio e Làzzaro of Savoia's Kingdom.
The intertwining of this story could have ended when Slade was appointed General of the British troops in Egypt in 1903. However, this war veteran's history still holds a surprise for us. If we go back to the late 1880s, we discover that Slade had already distinguished himself as a war hero during the Second Anglo-Afghan War, particularly in the tragic Battle of Maiwand.
These events greatly contributed to the officer's military career, leading to his later knighthood as Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, the prestigious chivalric order founded by King George I.
In the summer of 1880, then-Captain Slade was in command of the support battery of the Royal Horse Artillery Regiment, under the leadership of Major Blackwood.
Ironically, in the early days of July, the young Captain Slade made several sketches of the landscape before him, unaware that those very images would be remembered as depicting one of the most dramatic battlefields in British military history: the Maiwand Pass.
 |
 |
 |
 |
It was at that very pass that, on July 27, 1880, an entire brigade of 2,500 soldiers led by General Burrows came under attack from Ayub Khan, who commanded a force of 25,000 men.
After three hours of cannon fire, the Afghan forces managed to break through the flank of the Indian infantry, met with resistance only by the 66th Berkshire Infantry Regiment.
As the situation deteriorated and Major Blackwood was wounded, Captain Slade, having lost men and many horses, hastily positioned the remaining artillery to reorganize the rear guard's defense and cover the retreat of what was left of the brigade. Meanwhile, the Berkshire Infantry Regiment mounted one last, tragic, and desperate resistance.
The account of what happened next has been preserved in the pages of Captain Slade's diaries, from which the following brief notes have been extracted: For the survivors the retreat over the 45 miles to Kandahar was an ordeal that was even worse than the battle itself...
"... sick men, almost naked, are astride donkeys, mules and camels; the bearers have thrown down their doolies and left the wounded to their fate. The guns and carriages are crowded with the helpless wounded suffering the tortures of the damned; horses are limping along with ugly wounds and men are pressing eagerly to the rear in the hope of finding water..."
"And so it goes on for five or six miles, till the sun begins to sink serenely into the horizon. The cries for Water! Water! become more frequent and louder. Most suffer in silence for they can hardly speak. The wounded open their mouths to show a dry parched tongue. After a long search in the dead of night a deep well full of muddy water is found in the village of Hauz-i-Madat. There is just sufficient to satisfy the wounded and those in severe distress, but none can be spared for the already worn out and exhausted horses."
"Everyone's hand is against us. Villagers from all sides creep up behind the low mud walls and fire on us, and many a gallant fellow who had battled against the trials of the night fell victim to the jezail (a long Afghan musket)."
"At last the River Argandab is reached; it is 11 a.m. and 32 miles from the battlefield. With what joy and delight do the unfortunate men and horses, who have not wetted their lips during the night, welcome the sight of it!" But they still had 13 dangerous miles to go before reaching the Citadel at Kandahar. Mayne, who was one of the last of the rearguard to arrive, came in "at 6 p.m. Wednesday 28th July rather exhausted having had no food since Monday evening the 26th. My horse could hardly walk he was so done."
There were 2566 British/Indian troops at Maiwand: of these 962 (37%) did not survive the battle and the retreat. Only 161 wounded reached Kandahar. and among them, we may reasonably suppose, was a military surgeon of our acquaintance.
We know that John Hamish Watson had departed for India with the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers but was later reassigned to the 66th Berkshire Regiment. We can also suppose that, already gravely wounded in the shoulder during the Battle of Maiwand, he was unfortunate enough to be struck again in the leg by the snipers of Hauz-I-Madat during that harrowing night of retreat. These same snipers, as Captain Slade recounted, fired upon the survivors and the wagons full of wounded men.
And so, it is in Kandahar that our investigation comes full circle — from the Roman countryside to Maiwand — where the journey of Dr. Watson, having just escaped death, begins toward the adventures we know so well, at the side of Sherlock Holmes.
