Hidden Rome: La Fontanella del Leone

La Fontanella del Leone is a special little fountain that quenches the thirst of our four-legged friends for centuries.

Rome, a city steeped in history and intertwined with the ever-present Tiber River, has long celebrated its bond with water. This connection is evident not only through the mighty Tiber but also through the myriad of springs and aquifers that have sustained the city through the ages. The Romans, ever meticulous about public welfare, constructed grand aqueducts, elaborate cisterns, and luxurious baths, integrating water seamlessly into urban life. Today, Rome boasts over 2,000 public fountains, each with its own story, but among them, one stands out not for its grandeur but for its unique purpose – La Fontanella del Leone, a fountain dedicated to the city’s four-legged residents.

Nestled near the Lungotevere Tor di Nona, in the quaint Piazza San Salvatore in Lauro, this unassuming fountain may not capture attention with its beauty or preservation but instead with its heartwarming function. It is believed to be one of the oldest fountains in Rome used specifically by dogs and cats to quench their thirst. The piazza, named after a small grove of laurel trees, that once flourished from its heart to the banks of the Tiber, cradles this hidden gem.

The Fontanella del Leone belongs to a notable group of “wandering fountains,” having been relocated at least once since its inception. Initially gracing Via di Panico from 1579, the fountain was commissioned by Pope Gregory XIII, born Ugo Boncompagni, who served from 1572 until 1585. By the 1920s, urban development necessitated its move to its current location, where it arrived in a state of disrepair.

Standing before the imposing façade of the Church of San Salvatore in Lauro, a 12th-century marvel rebuilt multiple times, the fountain rests to the left, nestled against the wall of the Palazzo dei Piceni, an adjacent convent. This humble fountain, officially known as the Fountain of the Lion, features a simple grotto recessed into the palazzo’s walls. Flanked by two columns, a lion’s head, once a striking white marble, now bears the softened, worn features reminiscent of a beloved, overused stuffed animal. From the lion’s mouth, a gentle stream of water trickles down, falling from a mere 30 centimeters above ground into a shallow basin designed for the comfort of animals.

A marble plaque dating back to 1579 adorns the fountain, bearing a Latin inscription. Translated, it reads: “Just the Virgin Water pours from the mouth of a wolf that is gentler than a lamb for the people in the Campus Martius, so here the pristine water which is presided over by the Virgin also pours from the mouth of a lion gentler than a baby goat. And it is no wonder: the pious dragon that rules the whole world has rendered both of them meek by his own example.”

This inscription not only celebrates the origin of the water, a reference to the Acqua Vergine aqueduct built by Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa in the 1st century BC to supply the Campus Martius, but also the benevolent influence of Pope Gregory XIII, symbolized by his family’s dragon emblem. The Acqua Vergine, known for its purity, also feeds the iconic Trevi Fountain, linking the lion’s fountain to one of Rome’s most celebrated landmarks.

Interestingly, the inscription alludes to a second, now-lost fountain that once stood on Via della Lupa. Though only a commemorative plaque remains on modern-day Via dei Prefetti, the connection highlights a historical network of fountains serving both humans and animals alike.

Observing the fountain today, its purpose remains abundantly clear. It takes only moments to witness its charm in action – a thirsty dog, perhaps a local’s cherished companion or a stray seeking solace from the summer heat, approaches the fountain. The water, clear and cool, offers relief to these silent travelers of the piazza. The sight evokes a simple yet profound appreciation for the thoughtful integration of nature and urban life.

Nearby residents speak fondly of the fountain’s role, especially during Rome’s sweltering nights when stray dogs converge on the piazza, drawn by the promise of fresh water. This enduring tradition speaks volumes about Rome’s compassionate spirit and respect for all its inhabitants.

Another, more modern fountain dedicated to animals can be found on Via Veneto, created by Mister Charlie, the proprietor of the GUI Bar and proud owner of two large dogs. While less historic, it continues the legacy of caring for Rome’s animal companions.

In the end, these fountains, despite their modest aesthetics, embody a unique beauty – a testament to their unwavering purpose. They remind us that true elegance lies not only in grandeur but in the harmony between nature and human kindness, providing for those who rely on our compassion. In Rome, even a humble fountain can tell a tale of empathy, history, and the simple act of quenching thirst, uniting all creatures in their basic need for water.