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Title: Rollo in Rome
Author: Jacob Abbott
Release Date: November 10, 2007 [EBook #23430]
Language: English
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ROLLO IN ROME,
BY
JACOB ABBOTT.
BOSTON:
BROWN, TAGGARD & CHASE,
(SUCCESSORS TO W. J. REYNOLDS & CO.)
25 & 29 CORNHILL.
1858.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
JACOB ABBOTT,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
[Illustration: THE VATICAN BY TORCHLIGHT. See page 204.]
[Illustration: ROLLO'S TOUR IN EUROPE.
Publishers. Boston.]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--THE DILIGENCE OFFICE, 13
II.--THE JOURNEY, 34
III.--THE ARRIVAL AT ROME, 56
IV.--A RAMBLE, 68
V.--GETTING LOST, 88
VI.--THE COLISEUM, 105
VII.--THE GLADIATOR, 127
VIII.--THE TARPEIAN ROCK, 147
IX.--GOING TO OSTIA, 167
X.--THE VATICAN, 192
XI.--CONCLUSION, 208
ENGRAVINGS.
THE VATICAN BY TORCHLIGHT, (Frontispiece.)
THE MOSAIC SHOP, 12
PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY, 21
THE PONTINE MARSHES, 49
DOING PENANCE, 59
RIDING AMONG THE RUINS, 91
LOOKING DOWN FROM THE COLISEUM, 109
VIEW OF THE LOWER CORRIDORS, 123
ASCENT TO THE CAPITOL, 139
STATUE OF THE GLADIATOR, 143
INTERIOR OF THE PANTHEON, 163
THE COLISEUM BY TORCHLIGHT, 209
ROLLO'S TOUR IN EUROPE.
ORDER OF THE VOLUMES.
ROLLO ON THE ATLANTIC.
ROLLO IN PARIS.
ROLLO IN SWITZERLAND.
ROLLO IN LONDON.
ROLLO ON THE RHINE.
ROLLO IN SCOTLAND.
ROLLO IN GENEVA.
ROLLO IN HOLLAND.
ROLLO IN NAPLES.
ROLLO IN ROME.
[Illustration: THE MOSAIC SHOP. See page 73.]
ROLLO IN ROME.
CHAPTER I.
THE DILIGENCE OFFICE.
Rollo went to Rome in company with his uncle George, from Naples. They
went by the diligence, which is a species of stage coach. There are
different kinds of public coaches that ply on the great thoroughfares in
Italy, to take passengers for hire; but the most common kind is the
diligence.
The diligences in France are very large, and are divided into different
compartments, with a different price for each. There are usually three
compartments below and one above. In the Italian diligences, however, or
at least in the one in which Mr. George and Rollo travelled to Rome,
there were only three. First there was the _interior_, or the body of
the coach proper. Directly before this was a compartment, with a glass
front, containing one seat only, which looked forward; there were, of
course, places for three persons on this seat. This front compartment is
called the _coupé_.[1] It is considered the best in the diligence.
[Footnote 1: Pronounced _coupay_.]
There is also a seat up above the _coupé_, in a sort of second story, as
it were; and this was the seat which Mr. George and Rollo usually
preferred, because it was up high, where they could see better. But for
the present journey Mr. George thought the high seat, which is called
the _banquette_, would not be quite safe; for though it was covered
above with a sort of chaise top, still it was open in front, and thus
more exposed to the night air. In ordinary cases he would not have been
at all afraid of the night air, but the country between Naples and Rome,
and indeed the country all about Rome, in every direction, is very
unhealthy. So unhealthy is it, in fact, that in certain seasons of the
year it is almost uninhabitable; and it is in all seasons considered
unsafe for strangers to pass through in the night, unless they are well
protected.
There is, in particular, one tract, called the _Pontine Marshes_, where
the road, with a sluggish canal by the side of it, runs in a straight
line and on a dead level for about twenty miles. It so happened that in
going to Rome by the diligence, it would be necessary to cross these
marshes in the night, and this was an additional reason why Mr. George
thought it better that he and Rollo should take seats inside.
The whole business of travelling by diligence in Europe is managed in a
very different way from stage coach travelling in America. You must
engage your place several days beforehand; and when you engage it you
have a printed receipt given you, specifying the particular seats which
you have taken, and also containing, on the back of it, all the rules
and regulations of the service. The different seats in the several
compartments of the coach are numbered, and the prices of them are
different. Rollo went so early to engage the passage for himself and Mr.
George that he had his choice of all the seats. He took Nos. 1 and 2 of
the _coupé_. He paid the money and took the receipt. When he got home,
he sat down by the window, while Mr. George was finishing his breakfast,
and amused himself by studying out the rules and regulations printed on
the back of his ticket. Of course they were in Italian; but Rollo found
that he could understand them very well.
"If we are not there at the time when the diligence starts, we lose our
money, uncle George," said he. "It says here that they won't pay it
back again."
"That is reasonable," said Mr. George. "It will be our fault if we are
not there."
"Or our misfortune," said Rollo; "something might happen to us."
"True," said Mr. George; "but the happening, whatever it might be, would
be _our_ misfortune, and not theirs, and so we ought to bear the loss of
it."
"If the baggage weighs more than thirty _rotolos_, we must pay extra for
it," continued Rollo. "How much is a _rotolo_, uncle George?"
"I don't know," said Mr. George, "but we have so little baggage that I
am sure we cannot exceed the allowance."
"The baggage must be at the office two hours before the time for the
diligence to set out," continued Rollo, passing to the next regulation
on his paper.
"What is that for?" asked Mr. George.
"So that they may have time to load it on the carriage, they say," said
Rollo.
"Very well," said Mr. George, "you can take it to the office the night
before."
"They don't take the risk of the baggage," said Rollo, "or at least they
don't guarantee it, they say, against unavoidable accidents or superior
force. What does that mean?"
"Why, in case the diligence is struck by lightning, and our trunk is
burned up," replied Mr. George, "or in case it is attacked by robbers,
and carried away, they don't undertake to pay the damage."
"And in case of _smarrimento_," continued Rollo, "they say they won't
pay damages to the amount of more than nine dollars, and so forth; what
is a _smarrimento_, uncle George?"
"I don't know," said Mr. George.
"It may mean a smash-up," said Rollo.
"Very likely," said Mr. George.
"Every traveller," continued Rollo, looking again at his paper, "is
responsible, personally, for all violations of the custom-house
regulations, or those of the police."
"That's all right," said Mr. George.
"And the last regulation is," said Rollo, "that the travellers cannot
smoke in the diligence, nor take any dogs in."
"Very well," said Mr. George, "we have no dogs, and we don't wish to
smoke, either in the diligence or any where else."
"They are very good regulations," said Rollo; and so saying, he folded
up the paper, and put it back into his wallet.
On the evening before the day appointed for the journey, Rollo took the
valise which contained the principal portion of his own and his uncle's
clothes, and went with it in a carriage to the office. Mr. George
offered to accompany him, but Rollo said it was not necessary, and so he
took with him a boy named Cyrus, whom he had become acquainted with at
the hotel.
The carriage, when it arrived at the diligence station, drove in under
an archway, and entered a spacious court surrounded by lofty buildings.
There was a piazza, with columns, all around the court. Along this
piazza, on the four sides of the building, were the various offices of
the different lines of diligences, with the diligences themselves
standing before the doors.
"Now, Cyrus," said Rollo, "we have got to find out which is our office."
But Rollo was saved any trouble on this score, for the coachman drove
the carriage directly to the door of the office for Rome. Rollo had told
him that that was his destination, before leaving the hotel.
There was a man in a sort of uniform at the door of the office. Rollo
pointed to his valise, and said, in Italian, "For Rome to-morrow
morning." The man said, "Very well," and taking the valise out of the
carriage, he put it in the office. Then Rollo and Cyrus got into the
carriage again, and rode away.
The next morning Mr. George and Rollo went down to breakfast before six
o'clock. While they were eating their breakfast, the waiter came in with
a cold roast chicken upon a plate, which he set down upon the table.
"Ah!" said Mr. George, "that is for us to eat on the way."
"Don't the diligence stop somewhere for us to dine?" asked Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "I presume it stops for us to dine, but as we
are going to be out all night, I thought perhaps that we might want a
supper towards morning. Besides, having a supper will help keep us awake
in going across the Pontine Marshes."
"Must we keep awake?" asked Rollo.
"So they say," replied Mr. George. "They say you are more likely to
catch the fever while you are asleep than while you are awake."
"I don't see why we should be," said Rollo.
"Nor do I," said Mr. George.
If Mr. George really did not know or understand a thing, he never
pretended to know or understand it.
"It may be a mere notion," said Mr. George, "but it is a very prevailing
one, at any rate; so I thought it would be well enough for us to have
something to keep us awake."
"We will take some bread and butter too," said Rollo.
Mr. George said that that would be an excellent plan. So they each of
them cut one of the breakfast rolls which were on the table in two, and
after spreading the inside surfaces well with butter, they put the parts
together again. The waiter brought them a quantity of clean wrapping
paper, and with this they wrapped up both the chicken and the rolls, and
Rollo put the three parcels into his bag.
"And now," said Rollo, "what are we to do for drink?"
"We might take some oranges," suggested Mr. George.
"So we will," said Rollo. "I will go out into the square and buy some."
Rollo, accordingly, went out into the square, and for what was
equivalent to three cents of American money he bought six oranges. He
put the oranges into his pockets, and returned to the hotel.
He found Mr. George filling a flat bottle with coffee. He had poured
some coffee out of the coffee pot into the pitcher of hot milk, which
had still a considerable quantity of hot milk remaining in it, and then,
after putting some sugar into it, and waiting for the sugar to dissolve,
he had commenced pouring it into the flat bottle.
[Illustration: PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY.]
"We may like a little coffee too," said Mr. George, "as well as the
oranges. We can drink it out of my drinking cup."
Rollo put his oranges into Mr. George's bag, for his own bag was now
full. When all was ready, and the hotel bill was paid, Mr. George and
Rollo got into a carriage which the waiter had sent for to come to the
door, and set off for the diligence office. It was only half past seven
when they arrived there. Rollo saw what time it was by the great clock
which was put up on the front of one of the buildings towards the court
yard.
"We are too early by half an hour," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "in travelling over new ground we must always
plan to be too early, or we run great risk of being too late."
"Never mind," said Rollo, "I am glad that we are here before the time,
for now I can go around and see the other diligences getting ready to go
off."
So Rollo began to walk about under the portico, or piazza, to the
various diligences which were getting ready to set out on the different
roads. There was one where there was a gentleman and two ladies who were
quite in trouble. I suppose that among the girls who may read this book
there may be many who may think that it must necessarily be a very
agreeable thing to travel about Europe, and that if they could only
go,--no matter under what circumstances,--they should experience an
almost uninterrupted succession of pleasing sensations. But the truth
is, that travelling in Europe, like every other earthly source of
pleasure, is very far from being sufficient of itself to confer
happiness. Indeed, under almost all the ordinary circumstances in which
parties of travellers are placed, the question whether they are to enjoy
themselves and be happy on any particular day of their journey, or to be
discontented and miserable, depends so much upon little things which
they did not at all take into the account, or even foresee at all in
planning the journey, that it is wholly uncertain when you look upon a
party of travellers that you meet on the road, whether they are really
having a good time or not. You cannot tell at all by the outward
circumstances.
There was a striking illustration of this in the case of the party that
attracted Rollo's attention in the court of the diligence office. The
gentleman's name was Howland. One of the ladies was his young wife, and
the other lady was her sister. The sister's name was Louise. Mr. Howland
intended to have taken the whole _coupé_ for his party; but when he
went to the office, the day before, to take the places, he found that
one of the seats of the _coupé_ had been engaged by a gentleman who was
travelling alone.
"How unlucky!" said Mr. Howland to himself. "We must have three seats,
and it won't do for us to be shut up in the interior, for there we
cannot see the scenery at all."
So he went home, and asked his wife what it would be best to do. "We
cannot have three seats together," said he, "unless we go up upon the
_banquette_."
But the bride said that she could not possibly ride on the _banquette_.
She could not climb up to such a high place.
Now, Mrs. Howland's real reason for not being willing to ride on the
banquette, was not the difficulty of climbing up, for at all the
diligence offices they have convenient step ladders for the use of the
passengers in getting up and down. The real reason was, she thought it
was not genteel to ride there. And in fact it is not genteel. There is
no part of the diligence where people who attach much importance to the
fashion of the thing are willing to go, except the coupé.
"And we don't want to ride in the interior," said Mr. Howland.
"No," said the bride, "that is worse than the banquette."
"Nor to wait till another day," added Mr. Howland.
"No," said Mrs. Howland. "We must go to-morrow, and we must have the
_coupé_. The gentleman who has engaged the third seat will give it up to
us, I am sure, when he knows that it is to oblige a lady. You can engage
the two seats in the coupé, and one more, either on the banquette or in
the interior, and then when the time comes to set out we will get the
gentleman to let us have his seat. You can pay him the difference."
"But, Angelina," said Mr. Howland, "I should not like to ask such a
thing of the gentleman. He has taken pains to go a day or two
beforehand to engage his seat, so as to make sure of a good one, and I
don't think we ought to expect him to give it up to accommodate
strangers."
"O, he won't mind," said Mrs. Howland. "He would as lief change as not.
And if he won't, we can arrange it in some way or other."
So Mr. Howland engaged the two places in the coupé, and one on the
banquette. When the morning came, he brought his two ladies to the
diligence station in good season. He was very unwilling to ask the
gentleman to give up his seat; but his wife, who was a good deal
accustomed to have her own way, and who, besides, being now a bride,
considered herself specially entitled to indulgences, declared that if
her husband did not ask the gentleman, she would ask him herself.
"Very well," said Mr. Howland, "I will ask him then."
So Mr. Howland went to the gentleman, and asked him. He was standing at
the time, with his umbrella and walking stick in his hand, near one of
the pillars of the portico, smoking a cigar. He looked at Mr. Howland
with an expression of some surprise upon his countenance on hearing the
proposition, took one or two puffs from his cigar before replying, and
then said quietly that he preferred the seat that he had taken in the
coupé.
"It would be a very great favor to us, if you would exchange with us,"
said Mrs. Howland, who had come up with her husband, and stood near. "We
are three, and we want very much to be seated together. We will very
gladly pay the difference of the fare."
The gentleman immediately, on being thus addressed by Mrs. Howland, took
the cigar out of his mouth, raised his hat, and bowed very politely.
"Are you and this other lady the gentleman's party?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Howland.
"Then I cannot possibly think of giving up my seat in the coupé,"
replied the gentleman. "I am a Russian, it is true, but I am not a bear,
as I should very justly be considered, if I were to leave a compartment
in the coach when _two_ such beautiful ladies as you were coming into
it, especially under the influence of any such consideration as that of
saving the difference in the fare."
The gentleman said this in so frank and good-natured a way that it was
impossible to take offence at it, though Mr. Howland felt, that by
making the request and receiving such a reply, he had placed himself in
a very ridiculous position.
"I prize my seat more than ever," said the Russian, still addressing the
ladies; "I prize it incalculably, and so I cannot think of going up upon
the banquette. But if the gentleman will go up there, I will promise to
take the very best care of the ladies possible, while they are in the
coupé."
Mrs. Howland then took Louise aside, and asked, in a whisper, whether
she should have any objection to ride in the interior, in case Mr.
Howland could exchange the place on the banquette for one within. Louise
was quite troubled that her sister should make such a proposal. She said
she should not like very well to go in there among so many strangers,
and in a place, too, where she could not see the scenery at all.
Besides, Louise thought that it would have been more generous in
Angelina, if she thought it necessary for one or the other of them to
ride inside, to have offered to take a seat there herself, instead of
putting it off upon her sister, especially since it was not so proper,
she thought, for her, being a young lady, to ride among strangers, as
for one who was married.
Mr. Howland then suggested that they should all ascend to the banquette.
The persons who had the other two seats there would of course be willing
to change for the coupé; or at least, since the coupé was considered the
best place, there would be no indelicacy in asking them to do it.
But the bride would not listen to this proposal. She never could climb
up there, in the world, she said.
By this time the coach was ready, and the conductor began to call upon
the passengers to take their places, so that there was no more time for
deliberation. They were all obliged to take their seats as the conductor
called off the names from his way bill. The two ladies entered the coupé
in company with the Russian, while Mr. Howland ascended by the step
ladder to his seat on the banquette. While the passengers were thus
getting seated the postilions were putting in the horses, and in a
moment more the diligence set off.
Now, here were four persons setting out on a pleasant morning, in a good
carriage, to take the drive from Naples to Rome--one of the most
charming drives that the whole tour of Europe affords, and yet not one
of them was in a condition to enjoy it. Every one was dissatisfied, out
of humor, and unhappy. The Russian gentleman was displeased with Mr.
Howland for asking him to give up his seat, and he felt uncomfortable
and ill at ease in being shut up with two ladies, who he knew were
displeased with him for not giving it up. The bride was vexed with the
Russian for insisting on his place in the coupé, and with her sister for
not being willing to go into the interior, so that she might ride with
her husband. Miss Louise was offended at having been asked to sit in the
interior, which request, she said to herself, was only part of a
systematic plan, which her sister seemed to have adopted for the whole
journey, to make herself the principal personage in every thing, and to
treat her, Louise, as if she was of no consequence whatever. And last of
all, Mr. Howland, on the banquette above, was out of humor with himself
for having asked the Russian to give up his seat, and thus subjected
himself to the mortification of a refusal, and with his wife for having
required him to ask it.
Thus they were all at heart uncomfortable and unhappy, and as the horses
trotted swiftly on along the smooth and beautiful road which traverses
the rich campagna of Naples, on the way to Capua, the splendid scenery
was wholly disregarded by every one of them.
Now, it is very often so with parties travelling in Europe. The external
circumstances are all perhaps extremely favorable, and they are passing
through scenes or visiting places which they have thought of and dreamed
of at home with beating hearts for many years. And yet now that the time
has come, and the enjoyment is before them, there is some internal
source of disquiet, some mental vexation or annoyance, some secret
resentment or heart-burning, arising out of the circumstances in which
they are placed, or the relations which they sustain to one another,
which destroys their peace and quiet of mind, and of course
incapacitates them for any real happiness. So that, on the whole,
judging from what I have seen of tourists in Europe, I should say that
those that travel do not after all, in general, really pass their time
more happily than those who remain at home.
I have two reasons for saying these things. One is, that those of you
who have no opportunity to travel, may be more contented to remain at
home, and not imagine that those of your friends who go abroad,
necessarily pass their time so much more happily than you do. The other
reason is, that when you do travel, either in our own country or in
foreign lands, you should be more reasonable and considerate, and pay
more regard to the wishes and feelings of others, than travellers
usually do. Most of the disquietudes and heart-burnings which arise to
mar the happiness of parties travelling, come from the selfishness of
our hearts, which seems, in some way or other, to bring itself out more
into view when we are on a long journey together than at any other time.
In the ordinary intercourse of life, this selfishness is covered and
concealed by the veil of politeness prescribed by the forms and usages
of society. This veil is, however, very thin, and it soon disappears
entirely, in the familiar intercourse which is necessarily produced by
the incidents and adventures of a journey. In being daily and hourly
with each other for a long time, people appear just as they really are;
and unless they are really reasonable, considerate, and just towards one
another, they are sure sooner or later to disagree.
But though the bridal party were very much out of humor with each other,
as we have seen, Mr. George and Rollo were entirely free from any such
uneasiness. They both felt very light-hearted and happy. They rambled
about the court yard till they had seen all that there was there to
interest them, and then they went to their own diligence. They opened
the coupé door and looked in.
"Our seats are Nos. 1 and 2," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George. "One of them is next the window, and the other
is in the middle. You may get in first, and take the seat by the
window."
"No, uncle George," said Rollo, "you had better have the seat by the
window."
"We will take turns for that seat," said Mr. George, "and you shall
begin."
Mr. George arranged it to have Rollo take his turn first, because he
knew very well that, in the beginning of a journey, such a boy as Rollo
was always full of enthusiasm and excitement; and that, consequently, he
would enjoy riding at the window much more at first than at a later
period. So Rollo got in and took his seat, and Mr. George followed him.
In a very few minutes afterwards, the postilions came out with the
horses.
But I have something particular to say about the postilions and the
horses, and I will say it in the next chapter.
CHAPTER II.
THE JOURNEY.
There are a great many curious things to be observed in travelling by
the public conveyances on the continent of Europe. One is the way of
driving the horses. It is a very common thing to have them driven, not
by coachmen, but by postilions. There is a postilion for each pair of
horses, and he sits upon the nigh horse of the pair. Thus he rides and
drives at the same time.
In these cases there is no driver's seat in front of the coach. Or if
there is a seat in front, it is occupied by the passengers. All the
driving is done by the postilions.
The postilions dress in a sort of livery, which is quite gay in its
appearance, being trimmed with red. The collars and the lapels of their
jackets, too, are ornamented here and there with figures of stage horns
and other emblems of their profession. They also wear enormously long
and stout boots. These boots come up above their knees. They carry only
a short whip, for they only have to whip the horse that they are upon,
and the one which is by the side of him, and so they do not have to
reach very far. When there are four horses, there are two postilions,
and when there are six, three.
A large diligence, with six horses, and a gayly dressed postilion
mounted on one of the horses of each pair, makes a very grand
appearance, you may depend, in coming, upon the gallop, into the streets
of a town--the postilions cracking their whips, and making as much noise
as they can, and all the boys and girls of the street coming to the
doors and windows to see.
"I am glad we are going to have postilions, uncle George," said Rollo,
as they were getting into the coach.
"Why?" asked Mr. George.
"Because I like the looks of them," said Rollo; "and then we always go
faster, too, when we have postilions. Besides, when there is a seat for
a driver on the coach, it blocks up our front windows; but now our
windows are all clear."
"Those are excellent reasons--all of them," said Mr. George.
The postilions did indeed drive very fast, when they once got upon the
road. There was a delay of half an hour, at the gate of the city, for
the examination of the passports; during which time the postilions,
having dismounted from their horses, stood talking together, and playing
off jokes upon each other. At length, when the passports were ready,
they sprang into their saddles, and set the horses off upon the run.
The road, on leaving the gates, entered a wide and beautiful avenue,
which was at this time filled with peasants coming into town, for that
day was market day in Naples. The people coming in were dressed in the
most curious costumes. Multitudes were on foot, others rode crowded
together in donkey carts. Some rode on the backs of donkeys, with a load
of farming produce before or behind them. The women, in such cases, sat
square upon the donkey's back, with both their feet hanging down on one
side; and they banged the donkey with their heels to make him get out of
the way so that the diligence could go by.
The country was very rich and beautiful, and it was cultivated every
where like a garden. Here and there were groves of mulberries,--the tree
on which the silk worm feeds,--and there were vineyards, with the vines
just bursting into leaf, and now and then a little garden of orange
trees. In the mean time the postilions kept cracking their whips, and
the horses galloped on at such a speed that Rollo had scarcely time to
see the objects by the road side, they glided so swiftly by.
"Won't the silk worms eat any kind of leaves but mulberry leaves?" he
asked.
"No," said Mr. George, "at least the mulberry silk worms will not. There
are a great many different kinds of silk worms in the world; that is,
there are a great many different kinds of caterpillars that spin a
thread and make a ball to wrap up their eggs in, and each one lives on a
different plant or tree. If you watch the caterpillars in a garden, you
will see that each kind lives on some particular leaf, and will not
touch any other."
"Yes," said Rollo, "we found a big caterpillar once on the caraway in
our garden, and we shut him up in a box, in order to see what sort of a
butterfly he would turn into, and we gave him different kinds of leaves
to eat, but he would not eat any but caraway leaves."
"And what became of him at last?" asked Mr. George.
"O, he turned into a butterfly," said Rollo. "First he turned into a
chrysalis, and then he turned into a butterfly."
"There are a great many different kinds of silk worms," said Mr. George;
"but in order to find one that can be made useful, there are several
conditions to be fulfilled."
"What do you mean by conditions to be fulfilled?" asked Rollo.
"Why, I mean that there are several things necessary, in order that the
silk worm should be a good one to make silk from. In the first place,
the fibre of the silk that he spins must be fine, and also strong. In
the next place, it must easily unwind from the cocoon. Then the animal
must be a tolerably hardy one, so as to be easily raised in great
numbers. Then the plant or tree that it feeds upon must be a thrifty and
hardy one, and easily cultivated. The mulberry silk worm has been found
to answer to these conditions better than any hitherto known; but there
are some others that I believe they are now trying, in order to see if
they will not be better still. They are looking about in all parts of
the world to see what they can find."
"Who are looking?" asked Rollo.
"The Society of Acclimatation," replied Mr. George. "That is a society
founded in Paris, and extending to all parts of the world, that is
employed in finding new plants and new animals that can be made useful
to man, or finding some that are useful to man in one country, and so
introducing them into other countries. They are trying specially to find
new silk worms."
"There are some kinds of caterpillars in America," said Rollo, "that
wind their silk up into balls. I mean to get some of the balls when I go
home, and see if I can unwind them."
"That will be an excellent plan," said Mr. George.
"If I can only find the end," said Rollo.
"There must be some art required to find the end," rejoined Mr. George,
"and then I believe there is some preparation which is necessary to make
the cocoons unwind."
"I wish I knew what it was," said Rollo.
"You can inquire of some of the people when we stop to dine," replied
Mr. George.
"But I don't know enough Italian for that," said Rollo.
"That's a pity," said Mr. George.
In the mean time the horses trotted and galloped on until they had gone
about ten miles, and then at length the postilions brought them up at
the door of an inn, in a village. Fresh horses were standing all ready
at the door, with new postilions. The postilions that had been driving
took out their horses and led them away, and then came themselves to the
window of the coupé and held out their caps for their _buono mano_, as
they call it; that is, for a small present.
Every body in Italy, who performs any service, expects, in addition to
being paid the price regularly agreed upon for the service, to receive
a present, greater or smaller according to the nature of the case. This
present is called the _buono mano_.[2]
[Footnote 2: Pronounced _bono mahno_.]
The postilions always expect a buono mano from the passengers in the
stage coach, especially from those who ride in the coupé.
Rollo gave them a few coppers each, for himself and for Mr. George, and
just as he had done so, a young man without any hat upon his head, but
with a white napkin under his arm, came out of the hotel, and advancing
to the window of the coupé asked Mr. George and Rollo, in French, if
they wished to take any thing.
"No," said Mr. George. "Not any thing."
"Yes, uncle George," said Rollo, "let us go and see what they have got."
He said this, of course, in English, but immediately changing his
language into French, he asked the waiter what they could have.
The waiter said that they could have some hot coffee. There would not be
time for any thing else.
"Let us have some hot coffee, uncle George," said Rollo, eagerly.
"Very well," said Mr. George.
So Rollo gave the order, and the waiter went into the house. In a moment
he returned with two cups of very nice coffee, which he brought on a
tray. By this time, however, the fresh horses were almost harnessed, so
that it was necessary to drink the coffee quick. But there was no
difficulty in doing this, for it was very nice, and not too hot. Rollo
had barely time to give back the cups and pay for the coffee before the
diligence began to move. The postilions started the horses with a
strange sort of a cry, that they uttered while standing beside them, and
then leaped into the saddles just as they were beginning to run.
The journey was continued much in this way during the whole day. The
country was delightful; the road was hard and smooth as a floor, and the
horses went very fast. In a word, Rollo had a capital ride.
After traversing a comparatively level country for some miles, the road
entered a mountainous region, where there was a long ascent. At the foot
of this ascent was a post house, and here they put on six horses instead
of four. Of course there were now three postilions. But although the
country was mountainous, the ascent was not steep, for the road was
carried up by means of long windings and zigzags, in such a manner that
the rise was very regular and gradual all the way. The consequence was,
that the six horses took the diligence on almost as fast up the
mountains as the four had done on the level ground.
About five o'clock in the afternoon the diligence made a good stop, in
order to allow the passengers to dine.
"We will go in and take dinner with the rest," said Mr. George, "and so
save the things that we have put up for a moonlight supper on the
Pontine Marshes."
"Yes," said Rollo, "I shall like that very much. Besides, I want to go
and take dinner with them here, for I want to see how they do it."
The place where the diligence stopped was a town called Mola di Gaeta.
It stood in a very picturesque situation, near the sea. For though the
road, in leaving Naples, had led at first into the interior of the
country, and had since been winding about among the mountains, it had
now come down again to the margin of the sea.
The entrance to the hotel was under a great archway. There were doors to
the right and left from this archway, leading to staircases and to
apartments. The passengers from the diligence were conducted through one
of these doors into a very ancient looking hall, where there was a table
set for dinner, with plates enough for twenty persons--that being about
the number of passengers contained in the various compartments of the
diligence.
On the opposite side of the arched way was a door leading to another
hall, where there was a table set for the conductor and the postilions.
After waiting a few minutes, the company of passengers took their seats
at the table. Besides the plates for the guests, there was a row of
dishes extending up and down the middle of the table, containing apples,
pears, oranges, nuts, raisins, little cakes, and bon-bons of various
kinds. There were also in this row two vases containing flowers.
Excepting these fruits and sweetmeats, there was nothing eatable upon
the table when the guests sat down. It is not customary in European
dinners to put any thing upon the table except the dessert.
The other dishes are brought round, and presented one by one to each
guest. First came the soup. When the soup had been eaten, and the soup
plates had been removed, then there was boiled beef. The beef was upon
two dishes, one for each side of the table. It was cut very nicely in
slices, and each dish had a fork and a spoon in it, for the guests to
help themselves with. The dishes were carried along the sides of the
table by the waiters, and offered to each guest, the guests helping
themselves in succession to such pieces as they liked.
After the beef had been eaten, the plates were all changed, and then
came a course of fried potatoes; then, after another change of plates, a
course of mutton chops; then green peas; then roast beef; then
cauliflower with drawn butter; then roast chicken with salad; and
lastly, some puddings. For each separate article of all this dinner
there was a fresh plate furnished to each guest.
After the pudding plates were removed, small plates for the dessert were
furnished; and then the fruit, and the nuts, and the bon-bons were
served; and the dinner was over.
For every two guests there was a decanter of wine. At least it was what
they called wine, though in taste it was more like sour cider. The
people generally used it by pouring a little of it into their water.
When the dinner was over, the passengers all paid the amount that was
charged for it, and each gave, besides, a buono mano to the waiter who
had waited upon his side of the table. By this time the diligence was
ready, and they all went and took their seats in it again.
The sun was now going down, and in the course of an hour the last of its
rays were seen gilding the summits of the mountains. Soon afterwards
the evening began to come on.
"Before a great while," said Mr. George, "we shall begin to draw near to
the frontier."
"Yes," said Rollo, "the frontier between the kingdom of Naples and the
dominions of the pope. They will examine the baggage there, I suppose."
"No," said Mr. George; "they will not examine the baggage till we get to
Rome."
"I thought they always examined the baggage at the frontier, when we
came into any new country," said Rollo.
"They do," said Mr. George, "unless the baggage is under the charge of
public functionaries; and then, to save time, they often take it into
the capital, and examine it there. I asked one of the passengers at the
dinner table, and he said that the trunks were not to be opened till we
get to Rome."
"They will examine the passports, I suppose," said Rollo.
"Yes," replied Mr. George, "they will, undoubtedly, examine the
passports at the frontier."
You cannot pass from one country in Europe to another, any where,
without stopping at the last military station of the country that you
leave, to have your passport examined and stamped, in token of
permission given you to go out, and also at the first military station
of the country which you are about to enter, to have them examined and
stamped again, in token of permission to come in. All this, as you may
suppose, is very troublesome. Besides that, there are fees to pay,
which, in the course of a long journey, amount to a considerable sum.
Besides the passport business which was to be attended to, there was a
grand change of the diligence establishment at the frontier. The coach
itself, which came from Naples, and also the conductor and postilions,
were all left at the border, and the passengers were transferred to a
new turnout which came from Rome. Indeed, there was a double change; for
the Roman diligence brought a load of passengers from Rome to meet the
Neapolitan one at the border, and thus each company of travellers had to
be transferred to the establishment belonging to the country which they
were entering.
This change was made in a post house, in a solitary place near the
frontier. It caused a detention of nearly an hour, there were so many
formalities to go through. It was late in the evening, and the work was
done by the light of torches and lanterns. The two diligences were
backed up against each other, and then all the trunks and baggage were
transferred from the top of one coach to the top of the other, without
being taken down at all. The baggage in these diligences is always
packed upon the top.
You would think that this would make the coach top heavy, and so it does
in some degree; but then the body of the coach below is so large and
heavy, that the extra weight above is well counterpoised; and then,
besides, the roads are so smooth and level, and withal so hard, that
there is no danger of an upset.
The work of shifting the baggage from one diligence to the other was
performed under an archway. There was a door leading from this archway
into a large office, where the two companies of passengers were
assembled, waiting for the coaches to be ready. All these passengers
were loaded with carpet bags, knapsacks, valises, bundles of umbrellas
and canes, and other such light baggage which they had had with them
inside the coaches. Many of them were sitting on chairs and benches
around the sides of the room, with their baggage near them. Others were
walking about the room, changing money with each other; that is, those
that were going from Rome to Naples were changing the Roman money, which
they had left, for Neapolitan money. The money of one of these countries
does not circulate well in the other country. In the middle of the room
was a great table, where the conductors and other officials were at work
with papers and accounts. Rollo could not understand what they were
doing.
Rollo walked about the office, looking at the different passengers, and
observing what was going on, while Mr. George remained near the coaches,
to watch the transfer of the baggage.
"I want to be sure," said Mr. George, "that our trunk is there, and that
they shift it over to the Roman coach."
"They are changing money inside," said Rollo. "Have you got any that you
want to have changed?"
"No," said Mr. George. "I did not know that we could change here; and I
calculated closely, and planned it so as not to have any of the Naples
money left."
"I have got only two or three pieces," said Rollo, "and those I am going
to carry home to America for coins."
At length the changes were completed, and Mr. George and Rollo, and also
all the other passengers who had come in the diligence from Naples,
began to take their places in the coach for Rome; while at the same time
the other company got into the Naples coach, which was now going to
return. The conductor came for his _buono mano_, the new horses were
harnessed in, the postilions leaped into the saddles, and thus both
parties set out upon their night ride. It was not far from nine o'clock.
[Illustration: THE PONTINE MARSHES.]
"And now," said Mr. George, "before a great while we shall come upon the
Pontine Marshes."
The Pontine Marshes form an immense tract of low and level land, which
have been known and celebrated in history for nearly two thousand years.
Though called marshes, they are so far drained by ancient canals that
the land is firm enough for grass to grow upon it, and for flocks of
sheep and herds of cattle to feed; but yet it is so low and so
unhealthy, that it is utterly uninhabitable by man. The extent of these
marshes is immense. The road traverses them in a direct line, and on a
perfect level, for twenty-five or thirty miles, without passing a single
habitation, except the post houses, and in the middle a solitary inn.
And yet there is nothing desolate or dreary in the aspect of the Pontine
Marshes. On the contrary the view on every side, in passing across them,
is extremely beautiful. The road is wide, and smooth, and level, and is
bordered on each side with a double row of very ancient and venerable
trees, which give to it, for the whole distance, the character of a
magnificent avenue. Think of a broad and handsome avenue, running
straight as an arrow for twenty-five miles!
Beyond the trees, on one side, there is a wide canal. This canal runs
parallel to the road, and you often meet boats coming or going upon it.
Beyond the canal, and beyond the trees on the other side, there extends,
as far as the eye can reach, one vast expanse of living green, as smooth
and beautiful as can be imagined. This immense tract of meadow is
divided here and there by hedges or palings, and now and then a pretty
grove appears to vary the scene. Immense flocks of sheep, and herds of
horses and cattle, are seen feeding every where, and sometimes herdsmen,
on horseback galloping to and fro, attending to their charge.
Mr. George and Rollo had had a fine opportunity to see the scenery of
the Pontine Marshes when they came to Naples, for then they crossed them
by day light. Now, however, it was night, and there was not much to be
seen except the gnarled and venerable trunks of the trees, on each side
of the road, as the light of the diligence lanterns flashed upon them.
The postilions drove exceedingly fast all the way over the marshes. The
stage stopped three times to change horses. Mr. George kept up a
continual conversation with Rollo all the way, in order to prevent him
from going to sleep; for, as I have said before, it is considered
dangerous to sleep while on the marshes.
About midnight Rollo proposed that they should eat their supper.
"No," said Mr. George, "we will keep our supper for the last thing. As
long as we can keep awake without it we will."
So they went on for two hours longer. About one o'clock the moon rose,
and the moonbeams shining in through the windows of the coupé, enlivened
the interior very much.
"The moonlight makes it a great deal pleasanter," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "and it will make it a great deal more
convenient for us to eat our supper."
The diligence stopped at a post house to change horses, a little before
two, and immediately after it set out again. Mr. George said that it was
time for them to take their supper. So Rollo opened the two bags, and
took out from one the chicken and the two rolls, and from the other the
bottle of coffee and the oranges. He placed the things, as he took them
out, in a large pocket before him, in the front of the coupé. Mr. George
took two newspapers out of his knapsack, one for Rollo and one for
himself, to spread in their laps while they were eating. Then, with a
sharp blade of his pocket knife, he began to carve the chicken.
The chicken was very tender, and the rolls were very nice; and as,
moreover, both the travellers were quite hungry, they found the supper
in all respects excellent. For drink, they had the juice of the oranges.
To drink this juice, they cut a round hole in one end of the orange, and
then run the blade of the knife in, in all directions, so as to break up
the pulp. They could then drink out the juice very conveniently.
At the close of the supper they drank the coffee. The coffee was cold,
it is true, but it was very good, and it made an excellent ending to the
meal.
They made the supper last as long as possible, in order to occupy the
time. It was three o'clock before it was finished and the papers cleared
away. At half past three, Rollo, in looking out at the window, saw a
sort of bank by the side of the road; and on observing attentively, he
perceived that there was a curve in the road itself, before them.
"Uncle George," said he, "we have got off the marshes!"
"I verily believe we have," said Mr. George.
"So now we may go to sleep," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George. "I'll lay my head over into the corner, and you
may lie against my shoulder."
So Mr. George and Rollo placed themselves in as comfortable a position
as possible, and composed themselves to sleep. They slept several hours;
waking up, or, rather, half waking up, once during the interval, while
the diligence stopped for the purpose of changing horses. When they
finally awoke, the sun was up high, and was shining in quite bright
through the coupé windows.
CHAPTER III.
THE ARRIVAL AT ROME.
When Mr. George and Rollo awoke from their sleep, they found that they
were coming into the environs of Rome. The country was green and
beautiful, but it seemed almost uninhabited; and in every direction were
to be seen immense ruins of tombs, and aqueducts, and other such
structures, now gone to decay. There was an ancient road leading out of
Rome in this direction, called the _Appian Way_. It was by this road
that the apostle Paul travelled, in making his celebrated journey to
Rome, after appealing from the Jewish jurisdiction to that of Cæsar.
Indeed, the Appii Forum and the Three Taverns, places mentioned in the
account of this journey contained in the Acts, were on the very road
that Mr. George and Rollo had been travelling in their journey from
Naples to Rome.
The remains of the Appian Way are still to be traced for many miles
south of Rome. The road was paved, in ancient times, with very large
blocks of an exceedingly hard kind of stone. These stones were of
various shapes, but they were fitted together and flattened on the top,
and thus they made a very smooth, and at the same time a very solid,
pavement. In many places along the Appian Way this old pavement still
remains, and is as good as ever.
At length the diligence arrived at the gate of the city. It passed
through an arched gateway, leading through an ancient and very venerable
wall, and then stopped at the door of a sort of office just within.
There were two soldiers walking to and fro before the office.
"What are we stopping for here?" asked Rollo.
"For the passports, I suppose," said Mr. George.
The conductor of the diligence came to the door of the coupé and asked
for the passports. Mr. George gave him his and Rollo's, and the
conductor carried them, together with those which he had obtained from
the other passengers, into the office. He then ordered the postilions to
drive on.
"How shall we get our passports again?" asked Rollo.
"We must send for them to the police office, I suppose," said Mr.
George.
It is very customary, in the great capitals of Europe, for the police to
take the passports of travellers, on their arrival at the gates of the
city, and direct them to send for them at the central police office on
the following day.
After passing the gate, the diligence went on a long way, through a
great many narrow streets, leading into the heart of the city. There was
nothing in these streets to denote the ancient grandeur of Rome,
excepting now and then an old and venerable ruin, standing neglected
among the other buildings.
Rollo, however, in looking out at the windows of the coupé, saw a great
many curious sights, as the diligence drove along. Among these one of
the most remarkable was a procession of people dressed in a most
fantastic manner, and wearing masks which entirely concealed their
faces. There were two round holes in the masks for the eyes. Mr. George
told Rollo that these were men doing penance. They had been condemned to
walk through the streets in this way, as a punishment for some of their
sins.
"Why, they treat them just as if they were children," said Rollo.
"They _are_ children," said Mr. George, "in every thing but years."
[Illustration: DOING PENANCE.]
Not long after this, Rollo saw a very magnificent carriage coming
along. It was perfectly resplendent with crimson and gold. The horses,
too, and the coachman, and the footmen, were gorgeously caparisoned and
apparelled in the same manner.
Rollo pointed it out to Mr. George. Mr. George said it was a cardinal's
carriage.
"I wish the cardinal was in it," said Rollo. "I would like to have seen
him."
"I presume he would have looked very much like any other man," replied
Mr. George.
"Yes, but he would have been dressed differently, wouldn't he?"
"Perhaps so," said Mr. George.
"Perhaps he would have had his red hat on," said Rollo. "I should like
to see a cardinal wearing his red hat."
The badge of the cardinal's office is a hat and dress of a red color.
At length the diligence passed under an archway which led into a large
open court, similar to the one in Naples where the journey had been
commenced. The passengers got out, the horses were unharnessed, and the
baggage was taken down. The trunks were all taken into an office
pertaining to the custom house, to be examined by the officers there, in
order to see whether there were any contraband goods in them.
Mr. George unlocked his trunk and lifted up the lid. An officer came up
to the place, and patting with his hand upon the top of the clothes, as
if to prevent Mr. George from lifting them up to show what was below, he
said,--
"Very well; very well; it is sufficient."
So saying, he shut down the top of the trunk again, and marked it,
"Passed." He then touched his hat, and asked Mr. George if he would make
some small present for the benefit of the custom house officers.
That is to say, he evaded the performance of his duty as an officer of
the customs, in expectation that the traveller would pay him for his
delinquency. Most travellers are very willing to pay in such cases. They
have various articles in their trunks which they have bought in other
countries, and which, strictly speaking, are subject to duty in entering
Rome, and they are willing to pay a fee rather than to have their trunks
overhauled. Others, of more sturdy morality, refuse to pay these fees.
They consider them as of the nature of bribes. So they say to the
officers,--
"Examine the baggage as much as you please, and if you find any duties
due, I will pay them. But I will not pay any bribes."
"Now, Rollo," said Mr. George, when he had got possession of his trunk,
"we want a carriage to take us and the baggage to the hotel. You may go
and see if you can find one, and I will stay here and look after the
baggage. Engage the carriage by the hour."
So Rollo went out of the court, and soon found a carriage. Before he got
into it, he said to the coachman,--
"_Per hora!_"
This means, By the hour.
At the same time Rollo held up his watch to the coachman, in order to
let him see what o'clock it was.
"_Si, signore_," said the coachman.
_Si, signore_, is the Italian for Yes, sir.
Rollo could not say in Italian where he wished the coachman to go, and
so he stood up in the carriage and pointed. Following his indications,
the coachman drove in through the archway to the court of the post
office, where he found Mr. George waiting. The trunk and the bags were
put upon the carriage, in front, and Mr. George got in with Rollo.
"Hotel d'Amerique," said Mr. George to the coachman.
"_Si, signore_," said the coachman, and immediately he began to drive
away.
The Hotel d'Amerique was the one where Mr. George had concluded to go.
He had found the name and a description of this hotel in his guide book.
"Why did you want me to take the carriage by the hour?" asked Rollo.
"Because it is very probable," said Mr. George, "that we shall not get
in at the Hotel d'Amerique, and in that case we shall have to go to
other hotels, and unless we take him by the hour, he would charge a
course for every hotel that we go to, and the charge even for _two_
courses, is more than for an hour."
The event showed that Mr. George was right in his calculations. The
Hotel d'Amerique was full. The waiter, who came out, as soon as he saw
the carriage stop at the door, told Mr. George this in French.
"Then please tell our coachman," said Mr. George, "to drive us to any
other principal hotel that is near here, and if that is full, to
another; and so on, until he finds a good place where they can take us
in."
Mr. George said this, of course, in French. The waiter delivered the
message to the coachman in Italian.
"Yes," said the coachman, to himself, "that I'll do. But I shall take
good care that you don't find any place where you can get in this two
hours, if I can help it."
The reason why the coachman did not wish that his travellers should find
a hotel soon was, of course, because he wished to earn as much money as
possible by driving them about.
He immediately began to think what hotels would be most likely to be
full, and drove first to those. The first of all was a hotel, situated
quite near one of the gates of the city, the one where the principal
entrance is for all travellers coming from the north. It is called the
"Gate of the People,"--or in Italian, _Porto del Popolo_. The gate opens
into a large triangular space, which is called the _Piazza del Popolo_.
_Piazza_,[3] in Italian, means a public square.
[Footnote 3: Pronounced _Piatza_.]
This Piazza del Popolo is one of the most celebrated places in Rome.
There are three streets that radiate from it directly through the heart
of the town. Between the centre and the two side streets, at the corners
where they come out upon the square, are two churches exactly alike.
They are called sometimes the _twin churches_, on this account.
The Piazza del Popolo is a great place for public parades. On one side
is a high ascent, with a broad expanse of gardens upon the top, and
zigzag roads, handsomely walled up, and ornamented with statues and
fountains, and with marble seats placed here and there for foot
passengers to rest themselves upon, when ascending.
Every year, at the end of what they call Holy Week, they have a great
celebration of fireworks from the side of this hill and from the terrace
above; and then all the people assemble in the Piazza below to witness
them.
But I must go back to Mr. George and Rollo. The coachman stopped at a
large hotel, fronting upon this square. On inquiring at the bureau, (on
the continent of Europe they call an office a bureau) Mr. George found
that all the rooms were occupied except one large apartment, of four
rooms. This was, of course, more than Mr. George wanted.
At the next hotel where the coachman stopped, there were no rooms at all
vacant, and at the next only one small room, with a single narrow bed in
it.
"If we can't find any other," said Rollo, "we will come back and take
this, and I will sleep on the floor."
"O, no!" said Mr. George.
"Why, uncle George!" said Rollo, "I can make it very comfortable on the
floor, by rolling up two coats or cloaks into two long rolls, and
wedging them in under me, one on one side of me and the other on the
other, and then putting a carpet bag under my head for a pillow. It
feels just as if you were in a good bed."
Mr. George smiled, and got into the carriage again, and the coachman
drove on.
After a while, he stopped at the door of a hotel which stood in rather a
retired place among narrow streets, though there was an open space in
front of it. Mr. George inquired for rooms here, and the waiter said
that they had one left.
"Are there two beds in it?" asked Mr. George.
"No, sir," said the waiter, "but we can put two beds in. Would you like
to go and see it, sir?"
"No," said Mr. George, "I will take it without going to see it. It is
the best that we can do."
So the porter of the hotel took off the baggage, while Mr. George paid
the coachman for an hour and a half of time. Mr. George and Rollo then
followed the porter to their room. In order to reach it, they had to
ascend several stories, up massive staircases of stone, and then to go
out to the extreme end of a long corridor. The room, when they came to
it, proved to be quite small, and there was but one bed in it. There
was, however, room for another; and the waiter, who had followed them
up, said that he would cause another one to be put in without any
delay.
CHAPTER IV.
A RAMBLE.
"And now, uncle George," said Rollo, "we'll get ready, and then the
first thing that we will do, will be to go down into the dining room and
get some breakfast."
"Why, we have had our breakfast already," said Mr. George. "We had it at
two o'clock this morning, on the Pontine Marshes."
"O, no," said Rollo, "that was our supper for last night."
"Very well," said Mr. George, "we will have some breakfast. You may go
down and order it as soon as you are ready. I will come down by the time
that it is on the table."
"What shall I order?" asked Rollo.
"Whatever you please," said Mr. George.
Accordingly Rollo, as soon as he was ready, went down stairs, and
looking about in the entrance hall, he saw a door with the words TABLE
D'HÔTE, in gilt letters, over it.
"Ah," said he to himself, "this is the place."
He opened the door, and found himself in a long, narrow room, which
seemed, however, more like a passage way than like a room. There was a
sort of rack on one side of it for hats and coats. There were several
pictures in this room, with prices marked upon them, as if they were for
sale, and also a number of very pretty specimens of marble, and inlaid
paper weights, and models of columns, temples, and ruins of various
kinds, and other such curiosities as are kept every where in Rome to
sell to visitors. Rollo looked at all these things as he passed through
the room, considering, as he examined them, whether his uncle George
would probably wish to buy any of them.
One of them was a model of a column, with a spiral line of sculptures
extending from the base to the summit. These sculptures represented
figures of men and horses, sometimes in battle, sometimes crossing
bridges, and sometimes in grand processions entering a town.
"This must be a model of some old column in Rome, I suppose," said Rollo
to himself. "Perhaps I shall find it some time or other, when I am
rambling about the streets. But now I must go and see about breakfast."
So saying, Rollo passed on to the end of the passage way, where there
was a door with curtains hanging before it. He pushed these curtains
aside, opened the door, and went in. He found himself ushered into a
dining room, with a long table extending up and down the centre of it.
There was a row of massive columns on each side of the table, which
supported the vaultings of the ceiling above. In different parts of this
table there were small parties of gentlemen and ladies, engaged in
taking late breakfasts.
Rollo walked down on one side of the table. There was on that side a
party consisting of a lady and gentleman with two children, a girl and a
boy,--all dressed in such a manner as to give them a foreign air. The
gentleman was speaking to the waiter in French when Rollo passed by the
party. The boy was sitting next to one of the great pillars. These
pillars were so near the table that each one of them took the place of a
seat.
Rollo walked on and took his seat next beyond the pillar. Of course the
pillar was between him and the boy.
In a few minutes a waiter came to ask what Rollo would have for
breakfast. He asked in French. Rollo gave an order for breakfast for
two. He said that his uncle would be down in a few minutes.
"Very well, sir," said the waiter.
As soon as the waiter had gone, Rollo looked round the other way, and
he saw that the other boy was peeping at him from behind the pillar. The
boy laughed when he caught Rollo's eye, and Rollo laughed too. The boy
seemed to be about nine years old.
A moment afterwards the boy began to peep at Rollo from behind the
pillar on the back side, and then again on the front side, thus playing
a sort of bo-peep. In this way, in a few minutes the two boys began to
feel quite acquainted with each other, without, however, having spoken a
word. They would, perhaps, have continued this game longer, but just at
this moment the breakfast for the party came in, and the boy set himself
at work eating a warm roll, buttered, and drinking his coffee.
"Can you speak French?" asked Rollo,--of course speaking French himself
in asking the question.
"Yes," said the boy, "but not very well."
"Then," said Rollo to himself, "he cannot be a French boy. Perhaps he is
an Italian boy."
"Italian?" asked Rollo.
"No," said the boy, "not at all. All I know of Italian is _grazia_."[4]
[Footnote 4: Pronounced _gratzia_.]
"What does that mean?" asked Rollo.
"It means, Thank you," said the boy.
"He must be a German boy, I think," said Rollo to himself.
After pausing a moment, Rollo ventured to ask the boy what his name was.
"Charles Beekman," said the boy. He pronounced the name in so English a
fashion, that Rollo perceived at once that he must speak English, so he
changed from French to English himself, and said,--
"So you are an English boy."
"No," said Charles, "I'm an American boy."
Rollo here laughed outright, to think how much trouble they had both
been taking to speak to each other in French, each supposing the other
to be some outlandish foreigner, when, after all, they were both
Americans, and could talk perfectly well together in their own mother
tongue. Such adventures as these, however, are very frequently met with,
in travelling in foreign countries.
After finding that they could both speak English, the two boys talked
with each other like old friends, for some minutes; and at length
finding that the pillar between them was very much in the way, Charles,
with his mother's permission, moved his seat round to Rollo's side of
it, Rollo himself moving to the next chair, to make room for him. Mrs.
Beekman readily consented to this, having first observed that Rollo
appeared to be a boy of agreeable and gentlemanly manners and demeanor.
When Mr. George at length came down, he was at first quite surprised to
find that Rollo had thus obtained a companion; but before the breakfast
was completed, he had become quite well acquainted with the Beekman
family himself. Towards the end of the breakfast Rollo said that he was
going out to take a walk, and he asked Mrs. Beekman to let Charles go
with him. Mr. George was going to finish some letters in his room, and
was then going to the post office and to the bankers, where Rollo did
not particularly wish to go.
"It will be better for you and me to go out and take a walk by
ourselves," said he to Charles, "if your mother is willing."
"Yes," said Mrs. Beekman, "I am willing. Only you must take care and not
get lost."
"O, no," said Rollo; "I'll take care of that. Besides, if we should get
lost, I know exactly what to do."
"What would you do?" asked Mr. Beekman.
"I would just take a carriage," replied Rollo, "and order the coachman
to drive right to the hotel."
"Very good," said Mr. Beekman, "that would do very well."
Accordingly, after breakfast Mr. George went to his room to finish his
letters, while Rollo and Charlie set out on their walk, to see what they
could see of Rome.
Rollo's plan of taking a carriage, in case of getting lost in a strange
city, and ordering the coachman to drive to the hotel, is a very
excellent one; but one thing is quite essential to the success of it,
and that is, that the person lost should know the name of his hotel.
Unfortunately, Rollo was going out without this requisite. Neither he
himself nor Mr. George had observed the name of the hotel where the
coachman whom they had employed, on their arrival, had finally left
them; and in going out Rollo forgot to observe what it was. He did not
even take notice of the name of the street. He did observe, however,
that the hotel had a small open space, like a square, before it, with a
fountain on one side. The water from the fountain flowed into a small
stone basin, with curious figures sculptured on the side of it.
"Let us go and look at this basin," said Charles, "and see if it would
not be a good place for us to sail little boats."
The basin was in a cool and pleasant place, being overshadowed by the
drooping branches of a great tree. Rollo, however, did not wish to stay
by it long.
"Let us go now and see the streets of Rome," said he; "we can come out
and look at this basin at any time."
So the two boys walked along, paying little attention to the direction
in which they were going.
"We shall find some of the great streets pretty soon," said Rollo, "and
then we will take an observation."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Charles.
"Why, we will take particular notice of some great building, or
something else that is remarkable where we come out into the street, and
by that means we shall be able to find our way back to the hotel."
"Yes," said Charles, "that will be an excellent plan."
So the boys went on, and presently they came out into what seemed to be
quite a busy street. It was not very wide, but it was bordered with
gay-looking shops on each side. These shops were for the sale of models,
specimens of marbles, Etruscan vases, mosaics, cameos, and other such
things which are sold to visitors in Rome. The number of mosaics and
cameos was very great. They were displayed in little show cases, placed
outside the shops, under the windows and before the doors, so that
people could examine them as they walked along.
"O, what a quantity of mosaics and _cameos_!" exclaimed Rollo.
"What are mosaics and cameos?" asked Charles.
As perhaps some of the readers of this book may not know precisely the
meaning of these words, I will here explain to them, as Rollo did to
Charles, how mosaics and cameos are made.
In the first place, in respect to cameos. Imagine a small flat piece of
stone, of different colors on the two sides, say white and black. We
will suppose that the white extends half through the thickness of the
stone, and that the remaining part of the thickness is black. Stones are
often found with such a division of colors, not only white and black,
but of all other hues.
Now, the artist takes such a stone as this, and marks out some design
upon one side of it, say upon the white side. Perhaps the design may be
the figure of a man. Then he cuts away all the white of the stone except
the figure; and the result is, that he has the figure of the man, or
whatever else his design may be, in white, on a black ground, and the
whole in one piece of stone, all solid.
Besides stone, shell is often used for cameos; many shells being pink,
or of some other such color on the inside, and white towards the
outside. In such a case, the figures of the design would be pink, or
whatever else the color of the stone might be, on a white ground.
The artists of Rome are celebrated for making beautiful cameos, both in
shell and in stone. The figures are very nicely drawn, and are very
beautifully cut, and when finished are set as pins, bracelets, and other
ornaments.
The _mosaics_, on the other hand, are made in a very different way. In
these, the design is represented by different colored stones or bits of
glass worked in together, with great care, in an opening made in the
material serving for the groundwork. Rollo and Charlie went into one
of the shops, and saw a man making one of these mosaics. He was working
at a table. On one side was a small painting on a card, which was his
model. He was copying this painting in mosaic. The bits of glass that he
was working with were in the form of slender bars, not much larger than
a stiff bristle. They were of all imaginable colors--the several colors
being each kept by itself, in the divisions of a box on the table. The
man took up these bars, one by one, and broke off small pieces of them,
of the colors that he wanted, with a pair of pincers, and set them into
the work. He put them in perpendicularly, and the lower ends went into
some soft composition, placed there to receive and hold them. The upper
ends, of course, came together at the surface of the work.
The man who was making the mosaic told Rollo, that as soon as he had
finished placing the pieces for the whole design, he should grind off
the surface so as to make it smooth, and polish it. It would then have
the appearance of a painted picture.
You would think that as the colors of the design are thus represented by
separate pieces of glass, put in one after the other, the result would
be a sort of mottled appearance, or at least that the gradations of hue
would be sharp and harsh in their effect. But it is not so. The pieces
are so small, and the different shades succeed each other so regularly,
that when viewed from the ordinary distance, the junctions disappear
altogether, and the shades mingle and blend together in the softest and
most perfect manner.
The mosaic which the workman was making in the shop where Rollo and
Charles went in, was a small one, intended to form part of a bracelet.
There were, however, some in the same shop that were quite large. They
were framed like pictures, and were hanging up against the wall.
Indeed, there was nothing but the circumstance that they were in a
mosaic shop, to denote that they were not pictures, beautifully painted
in oil. One was a landscape; another was a portrait of a beautiful girl;
another was a basket of fruit and flowers.
In some of the churches of Rome, there are mosaics of very large size,
which are exact and beautiful copies of some of the most celebrated
paintings in the world. Strangers coming into the churches and looking
at these pictures, never imagine them to be mosaics, and when they are
told that they are so, they can scarcely believe the story. But on
examining them very near, or in looking at them through an opera
glass,--for sometimes you cannot get very near them,--you can easily see
the demarcations between the little stones.
It is a very curious circumstance that the most ancient pictures in the
churches of Rome and Italy are mosaics, and not paintings. Mosaics seem
to have come first in the history of art, and paintings followed, in
imitation of them. Indeed, the arranging of different colored stones in
a pavement, or in a floor, so as to represent some ornamental design,
would naturally be the first attempt at decoration made in the
construction of buildings. Then would follow casing the walls with
different colored marbles, arranged in pretty ways, and finally the
representation of men and animals would be attempted. This we find, from
an examination of ancient monuments, was the actual course of things,
and painting in oil came in at the end as an imitation of pictures in
stone.
Rollo and Charles were induced to go into the mosaic shop by the
invitation of the workman, whose table, as it happened, stood near the
door. He saw the two boys looking in somewhat wistfully, as they went
by, and he invited them to walk in. He saw at once from their appearance
that they were visitors that had just arrived in town, and though he did
not expect that they would buy any of his mosaics themselves, he thought
that there might be ladies in their party who would come and buy, if he
treated the boys politely. It was on that account that he invited them
to come in. And when they had looked about the establishment as much as
they wished, and were ready to go away, he gave them each one of his
cards, and asked them to give the cards to the ladies of their party.
"But there are no ladies of my party," said Rollo.
"Who is of your party?" asked the workman.
"Only a young gentleman," said Rollo.
"O, very well," rejoined the man, "that will do just as well. He will
certainly wish to buy mosaics, while he is in Rome, for some of the
young ladies of his acquaintance."
"I think that is very doubtful," said Rollo; "but nevertheless I will
give him the card."
So Rollo and Charles bade the mosaic man good by, and went away.
They had been so much interested in what they had seen in the mosaic
shop, and their attention, now that they had left it, was so much
occupied with looking at the display of mosaics and cameos which they
saw in the little show cases along the street, that Rollo forgot
entirely his resolve to take an observation, so as not to lose his way.
The boys walked on together until they came to a long and straight,
though not very wide street, which was so full of animation and bustle,
and was bordered, moreover, on each side by so many gay looking shops,
that Rollo said he was satisfied it must be one of the principal streets
of the town.
It was, in fact, the principal street in the town. The street is called
_the Corso_. It runs in a straight line from the Porto del Popolo, which
I have already described, into the very heart of the city. It is near
the inner end of this street that the great region of ancient ruins
begins.
Rollo and Charles began to walk along the Corso, looking at the shops as
they went on. They were obliged, however, to walk in the middle of the
street, for the sidewalks, where there were any, were so narrow and
irregular as to be of very little service. Indeed, almost all the
pedestrians walked in the middle of the street. Now and then a carriage
came along, it is true, but the people in that case opened to the right
and left, and let it go by.
After going on for some distance, Charles began to look about him
somewhat uneasily.
"Rollo," said he, "are you sure that we can find our way home again?"
"O! I forgot about the way home," said Rollo; "but never mind; I can
find it easily enough. I can inquire. What is the name of the hotel?"
"I don't know," said Charles.
"Don't know?" repeated Rollo, in a tone of surprise. "Don't know the
name of the hotel where you are lodging?"
"No," said Charles, "we only came last night, and I don't know the name
of the hotel at all."
"Nor of the street that it is in?" asked Rollo.
"No," said Charles.
"Then," said Rollo, in rather a desponding tone, "I don't know what we
shall do."
Just then a carriage was seen coming along; and Rollo and Charles, who
had stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, in their surprise and
alarm, were obliged to run quick to get out of the way. The carriage was
a very elegant one in red and gold, and there were two elegantly dressed
footmen standing behind.
"That must be a cardinal's carriage," said Rollo, when the carriage had
gone by.
"How do you know?" asked Charles.
"Uncle George told me about them," said Rollo. "You see Rome and all the
country about here is under the government of the pope, and the chief
officers of his government are the cardinals; and uncle George told me
that they ride about in elegant carriages, in red and gold, very
splendid and gay. We saw one of them, too, when we were coming into
town."
Charles watched the carriage a minute or two, until it had gone some
distance away, and then turning to Rollo again, he said,--
"And how about finding our way home again, Rollo?"
"Ah!" said Rollo, "in regard to that I don't know. We shall have to take
a carriage when we want to go home, so we may as well go on and have our
walk out. We are lost now, and we can't be any more lost go where we
will."
So the boys walked on. Presently they came to a large square, with an
immense column standing in the centre of it. This column was so similar
to the little model which Rollo had seen at the hotel, that he exclaimed
at once that it was the same. It had a spiral line of sculptures winding
round and round it, from the base to the summit. The figures, however,
were very much corroded and worn away, as were indeed all the angles and
edges of the base, and of the capital of the column, by the tooth of
time. The column had been standing there for eighteen or twenty
centuries.
"I saw a model of that very column," said Rollo, "in a little room at
the hotel. It is the column of Trajan. I'll prove it to you."
So Rollo asked a gentleman, who was standing on the sidewalk with a
Murray's Guide Book in his hand, and who Rollo knew, by that
circumstance, was an English or American visitor, if that was not the
column of Trajan.
"No," said the gentleman; "it is the column of Antonine."
Rollo looked somewhat abashed at receiving this answer, which turned his
attempt to show off his learning to Charles into a ridiculous failure.
"I thought it was called the column of Trajan," said he.
The gentleman, who, as it happened, was an Englishman, made no reply to
this observation, but quietly took out an opera glass from a case, which
was strapped over his shoulder, and began studying the sculptures on the
column.
So Rollo and Charles walked away.
"I believe the name of it is the column of Trajan," said Rollo, "for I
saw the name of it on the model at the hotel. That man has just come,
and he don't know."
"Are you sure it is the same column?" suggested Charles.
"Yes," said Rollo, "for it was exactly of that shape, and it had the
same spiral line of images going round and round it, and a statue on the
top. See, how old and venerable it looks! It was built almost two
thousand years ago."
"What did they build it for?" asked Charles.
"Why, I don't know exactly," said Rollo, looking a little puzzled; "for
ornament, I suppose."
"But I don't see much ornament," said Charles, "in a big column standing
all by itself, and with nothing for it to keep up."
"But it _has_ something to keep up," rejoined Rollo. "Don't you see,
there is a statue on the top of it."
"If that's what it is to keep up," said Charles, "I don't see any sense
in making the column so tall as to hold up the statue so high that we
can't see it."
"Nor I," said Rollo, "but they often made tall columns, like these, in
ancient times."
After rambling about a short time longer, the boys came to another open
space, where there was a second column very similar in appearance to the
first.
"Ah!" said Rollo, "perhaps this is the column of Trajan."
Rollo was right this time. There are several large columns standing
among the ruins of Rome, and among them are two with spiral lines of
sculpture around them, which are extremely similar to each other, and it
is not at all surprising that Rollo was at first deceived by the
resemblance between them.
These columns were built in honor of the victories of great generals,
and the spiral lines of sculptures were representations of their
different exploits. The statue upon the top of the column was,
originally, that of the man in whose honor the column was erected. But
in the case of the Roman columns, these original statues have been taken
down, and replaced by bronze images of saints, or of the Virgin Mary.
Near the column of Trajan was a large sunken space, in the middle of
the square, with a railing around it. In the bottom of this sunken space
was a pavement, which looked very old, and rising from it were rows of
columns with the tops broken off. The old pavement was eight or ten feet
below the level of the street.
"This must be some old ruin or other," said Rollo; "a temple perhaps."
"Only I do not see," said Charles, "why they built their temples down so
low."
"Nor do I," said Rollo.
"But, Rollo," said Charles, "I think it is time for us to begin to try
to find our way home. I don't see how you are going to find the way at
all."
"If I only knew the name of the hotel, or even the name of the street,"
said Rollo, "I should know at once what to do."
CHAPTER V.
GETTING LOST.
"And now," said Rollo, "the first thing is to find somebody that can
speak French or English, for us to inquire of."
"What good will that do?" asked Charles, "as long as we don't know what
to ask them for?"
"True," said Rollo. "That's a real difficulty. I wish we just knew the
name of the hotel. At any rate, we will walk along until we find a
carriage, and I will be thinking what we had better do."
The boys walked along together. Charles kept silence, so as not to
interrupt Rollo in his thinking.
"All I know," said Rollo, after a short pause, "is, that the long,
straight street that we came through, is the Corso. I have heard of that
street before. If we could only find our way to the Corso, I believe
that I could follow it along, and at last find the mosaic shop, and so
get back to our hotel."
"Very well," said Charles, "let us try."
"Or, we might get into a carriage," said Rollo, "and direct the coachman
which way to drive by pointing."
"So we could," said Charles. "And I should like that, for I am tired of
walking so much."
"Then we will get a carriage," said Rollo. "We will take the first one
that we see. You shall get inside, and I will mount upon the box with
the coachman, and show him which way to go."
"No," said Charles, "we will both get inside, for we can stand up there
and point."
"So we can," said Rollo.
There are carriages to be found almost every where in the streets of
Rome, especially in the neighborhood of the most interesting ruins. It
was not long before Rollo and Charles came in sight of one. The coachman
was looking toward them, and was cracking his whip to attract their
attention.
Rollo and Charles walked directly towards the spot, and Rollo, taking
out his watch, and showing the coachman what o'clock it was, said,--
"_Per hora._"
This was to notify the coachman that he took the carriage by the hour.
"_Si, signore_," said the coachman; and then Rollo and Charles got in.
The carriage was entirely open,--the top being turned back,--so that it
afforded an uninterrupted view in every direction; and also, by standing
up and pointing forward, the boys could easily indicate to the coachman
which way they wished him to drive. Rollo, however, in the first
instance, directed him in words to drive to the Corso.
"_Si, signore_," said the coachman; and so he drove on.
The boys sat in the carriage, or stood up to look back at the various
objects of interest that attracted them as they passed. The scenes
through which the driver took them seemed very strange. Every thing in
Rome was strange to them, and their course now lay through a part of the
city which they had not been in before. Their attention was continually
attracted first upon this side of the carriage and then upon the other,
as they rode along; and they pointed out to each other the remarkable
objects they were passing.
The driver meanwhile upon his seat drove on, entirely indifferent to it
all. The scenes that were so new to the boys, were perfectly familiar to
him.
[Illustration: RIDING AMONG THE RUINS.]
He soon entered a region of dark, crooked, and winding alleys, where
Rollo said that he and Charles could never have found their way, if they
had undertaken it alone. They frequently passed portions of old ruins.
In some places these ruins consisted of columns standing alone, or
immense fragments of broken arches that had fallen down, and now lay
neglected upon the ground. In other places, the remains of ancient
temples stood built in with the houses of the street, with market women
at their stalls below, forming a strange and incongruous spectacle of
ancient magnificence and splendor, surrounded and overwhelmed with
modern poverty and degradation. As the carriage drove through these
places, Rollo and Charles stood up in it, supporting themselves by
pressing their knees against the front seat, and holding on to each
other. They stood up thus partly to be enabled to see better, and partly
so as to be ready to point out the way as soon as they should enter the
Corso.
It was not long before they came to the Corso. The coachman then looked
round, as if to inquire of the boys what he was to do next.
"Go right on," said Rollo; and so saying, he stood up in the carriage,
and pointed forward. The coachman, of course, did not understand the
words, but the gesture was significant enough, and so he drove on.
"Now watch, Charley, sharp," said Rollo; "and when you see the street
that you think is the one where we came into the Corso, tell me."
So the boys drove on through the Corso, standing up all the time in the
middle of the carriage, and looking about them in a very eager manner.
They went on in this way for some time, but they could not identify any
of the branch streets as the one by which they had come into the Corso.
"Never mind," said Rollo; "we will turn off into any of these streets,
and perhaps we shall come upon the hotel. We will take the streets that
look most like it, and at any rate, we shall have a good ride, and see
the city of Rome."
Rollo accordingly pointed to a side street when he wished the coachman
to turn. The coachman said, "_Si, signore_," and immediately went in
that direction. As he advanced in the new street, the boys looked about
on all sides to see if they could recognize any signs of their approach
to their hotel.
After going on a little way, and seeing nothing that looked at all
familiar, Rollo made signs to the coachman to turn down another street,
which he thought looked promising. The coachman did as he was directed,
wondering a little, however, at the strange demeanor of the boys; and
feeling somewhat curious to know where they wanted to go. He, however,
felt comparatively little interest in the question, after all; for, as
he was paid by the hour, it was of no consequence to him where they
directed him to drive.
Rollo now perceived that Charles began to be somewhat anxious in respect
to the situation they were in, and so he tried in every way to encourage
him, and to amuse his mind.
"I'll tell you what we will do," said Rollo. "This street that we are in
now seems to be a good long one, and we will drive through the whole
length of it, and you shall look down all the streets that open into it
on the right hand, and I will on the left; and if we see any thing that
looks like our hotel, we will stop."
So they rode on, each boy looking out on his side, until at length they
came to the end of the street, where there was a sort of opening, and a
river. There was a bridge across the river, and an ancient and
venerable-looking castle on the other side of it.
"Ah," said Rollo, "here is the River Tiber."
"How do you know that that is the name of it?" asked Charles.
"Because I know it is the Tiber that Rome is built upon," replied
Rollo,--"the Yellow Tiber, as they call it. Don't you see how yellow it
is?"
As Rollo said this, he made signs for the coachman to turn out to the
side of the street at the entrance of the bridge, and to stop there.
The coachman did as he was directed, and then Rollo and Charles, still
standing up in the carriage, had a fine view of the bridge and of the
river, and also of the Castle of St. Angelo beyond. The water of the
river was quite turbid, and was of a yellow color.
"That's the river," said Rollo, "that Romulus and Remus were floated
down on, in that little ark."
"What little ark?" asked Charles.
"Why, you see," replied Rollo, "when Romulus and Remus were babies, the
story is that somebody wanted to have them killed; but he did not like
to kill them himself with his own hand, and therefore he put them into a
sort of basket, made of bulrushes, and set them afloat on this river, up
above here a little way. So they floated down the stream, and came along
by here."
"Under this bridge?" asked Charles.
"Under where this bridge is now," said Rollo; "but of course there was
no bridge here then. There was no town here then--nothing but fields and
woods."
"And what became of the babies?" asked Charles.
"Why, they floated down below here a little way," said Rollo, "to a
place where there is a turn in the river; and there the basket went
ashore, and was upset, and the children crawled out on the sand, and
began to cry. Pretty soon a wolf, who was in the thicket near by, heard
the crying, and came down to see what it was."
"And did he eat them up?" asked Charles.
"It was not a he wolf," said Rollo; "it was a she wolf--an old mother
wolf. She thought that the children were little wolves, and she came to
them, and lay down by them, nursed them, and took care of them, just as
if she had been a cat, and they had been her two kittens."
"O Rollo," said Charles, "what a story! I don't believe it."
"Nor I," said Rollo. "Indeed, I don't think any body nowadays believes
it exactly. But that is really the story. You can read it in the history
of Rome. These two children, when they grew up, laid the foundations of
Rome. I don't really believe that the story is true; but if it is true,
this is the very place where the basket, with the two babies in it, must
have drifted along."
Charles gazed for a few minutes in silence on the current of turbid
water which was shooting swiftly under the bridge, and then said that it
was time for them to go.
"Yes," said Rollo; "and we will turn round and go back, for it is of no
use to go over the bridge. I am sure that we did not come over the
river when we set out from the hotel, and so we must keep on this side."
Rollo concluded, however, not to go back the same way that he came; and
so making signs to the coachman for this purpose, he turned into another
street, and as the carriage drove along, he and Charles looked out in
every direction for their hotel; but no signs of it were to be seen.
After going on for some distance, Rollo's attention was attracted by a
sign in English over a shop door as follows:--
MANUFACTURE OF ROMAN SCARFS. ENGLISH SPOKEN.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, suddenly, "that is just what I wanted to find." And
he immediately made a sign for the coachman to stop at the door.
"What is it?" asked Charles.
"It is a place where they make Roman scarfs," said Rollo, "and I want to
get one for my cousin Lucy. She told me to be sure, if I came to Rome,
to get her a Roman scarf. You can't get them in any other place."
As Rollo said this, he descended from the carriage, and Charles followed
him.
"They speak English here," said Rollo, as he went into the shop, "and so
we shall not have any difficulty."
These Roman scarfs are very pretty ornaments for the necks and shoulders
of ladies. They are made of silk, and are of various sizes, some being
large enough to form a good wide mantle, and others not much wider than
a wide ribbon. The central part of the scarf is usually of some uniform
hue, such as black, blue, green, or brown; and the ends are ornamented
with stripes of various colors, which pass across from side to side.
Rollo wished to get a small scarf, and the ground of it was to be green.
This was in accordance with the instructions which Lucy had given him.
He found great difficulty, however, in making the shopman understand
what he wanted. To all that Rollo said, the shopman smiled, and said
only, "Yes, sir, yes, sir," and took down continually scarfs and aprons
of different kinds, and showed them to Rollo, to see if any of them were
what he wanted.
At last, by pointing to a large one that had a green ground, and saying,
"Color like that," and then to a small one of a different kind, and
saying, "Small, like that," the shopman began to understand.
"Yes, sir," said the shopman; "yes, sir; I understand. Must one
make--make. See!"
So saying, the shopman opened a door in the back side of the shop, and
showed Rollo and Charles the entrance to a room in the rear, where the
boys had heard before the sound of a continual thumping, and where now
they saw several silk looms, with girls at work at them, weaving scarfs.
"Ah, yes," said Rollo. "You mean that you can make me one. That will be
a good plan, Charley," he added. "Lucy will like it all the better if I
tell her it was made on purpose for her.
"When can you have it done?" asked Rollo.
"Yes, sir," said the shopman, bowing and smiling; "yes, sir; yes, sir."
"When?" repeated Rollo. "What time?"
"Ah, yes, sir," said the shopman. "The time. All time, every time.
Yesterday."
"Yesterday!" repeated Rollo, puzzled.
"To-morrow," said the man, correcting himself. He had said yesterday by
mistake for to-morrow. "To-morrow. To-morrow he will be ready--the
scarf."
"What time to-morrow shall I come?" asked Rollo.
"Yes, sir," said the shopman, bowing again, and smiling in a very
complacent manner. "Yes, sir, to-morrow."
"But what _time_ to-morrow?" repeated Rollo, speaking very distinctly,
and emphasizing very strongly the word _time_. "What time?"
"O, every time," said the man; "all time. You shall have him every time
to-morrow, because you see he will make begin the work on him this day."
"Very well," said Rollo, "then I will come to-morrow, about noon."
So Rollo and Charles bade the shopman good by, and went out of the shop.
"Is that what they call speaking English?" asked Charles.
"So it seems," said Rollo. "Sometimes they speak a great deal worse than
that, and yet call it speaking English."
So Rollo and Charles got into the carriage again. Rollo took out his
wallet, and made a memorandum of the name of the shop where he had
engaged the sash, and of the street and number. The coachman sat quietly
upon his seat, waiting for Rollo to finish his writing, and expecting
then to receive directions where he was to go.
"If I could only find a commissioner that speaks French or English,"
said Rollo, "I could tell him what we want, and he could tell the
coachman, and in that way we should soon get home."
"Can't you find one at some hotel?" asked Charles.
"Why, yes," said Rollo. "Why did not I think of that? We'll stop at the
very first hotel we come to. I'll let him drive on till he comes to one.
No; I'll tell him to go to the Hotel d'Amerique. That is the only name
of a hotel that I know."
So Rollo pronounced the words "Hotel d'Amerique" to the coachman, and
the coachman, saying, "_Si, signore_," drove on. In a short time he drew
up before the door of the hotel where Mr. George had stopped first, on
arriving in town. A waiter came to the door.
"Is there a commissioner here who speaks English or French?" asked
Rollo.
"Yes, sir," said a man who was standing by the side of the door when the
carriage stopped, and who now came forward. "_I_ speak English."
"I want you to help us find our hotel," said Rollo. "We don't know the
name of it. I shall know it when I see it; and so I want you to get on
the box with the coachman, and direct him to drive to one hotel after
another, till I see which is the right one."
"Very well," said the commissioner, "I will go. Do you remember any
thing about the hotel,--how it was situated."
"There was a small, open space before it," said Rollo, "and a fountain
under a tree by the side of it."
"It must have been the Hotel d'Angleterre," said the commissioner.
"In going in at the front door, we went _down_ one or two steps, instead
of up," said Rollo.
"Yes," said the commissioner, "it was the Hotel d'Angleterre." Then
seating himself on the box by the side of the coachman, he said to the
latter, addressing him in Italian,--
"Lo canda d'Ingleterra," which is the Italian for Hotel d'Angleterre,
or, as we should express it in our language, "The English Hotel."
The coachman drove on, and in a few minutes came to the hotel.
"Yes," said Rollo, as soon as he came in sight of it. "Yes, this is the
very place."
If Rollo had had any doubts of his being right, they would have been
dispelled by the sight of Mr. George, who was standing at the hotel door
at the time they arrived.
"So you come home in a carriage," said Mr. George.
"Why, we got lost," said Rollo. "I did not take notice of the name of
our hotel when we went out, and so we could not find our way home
again."
"That's of no consequence," said Mr. George. "I am glad you had sense
enough to take a commissioner. Whenever you get into any difficulty
whatever in a European town, go right to a commissioner, and he will
help you out."
So Rollo paid the coachman and the commissioner, and then he and Charles
went into the hotel.
CHAPTER VI.
THE COLISEUM.
The grandest of all the ruins in Rome, and perhaps, indeed, of all the
ruins in the world, is the Coliseum.
The Coliseum was built as a place for the exhibition of games and
spectacles. It was of an oval form, with seats rising one above another
on all sides, and a large arena in the centre. There was no roof. The
building was so immensely large, that it would have been almost
impossible to have made a roof over it.
The spectacles which were exhibited in such buildings as these were
usually combats, either of men with men, or of men with wild beasts.
These were real combats, in which either the men or the beasts were
actually killed. The thousands of people that sat upon the seats all
around, watched the conflict, while it was going on, with intense
excitement, and shouted with ferocious joy at the end of it, in honor of
the victors.
The men that fought in the arena were generally captives taken in
battle, in distant countries, and the wild beasts were lions, tigers,
and bears, that were sent home from Africa, or from the dark forests in
the north of Europe.
The great generals who went out at the head of the Roman armies to
conquer these distant realms and annex them to the empire, sent home
these captives and wild beasts. They sent them for the express purpose
of amusing the Roman people with them, by making them fight in these
great amphitheatres. There was such an amphitheatre in or near almost
every large town; but the greatest, or at least the most celebrated, of
all these structures, was this Coliseum at Rome.
Mr. George and Rollo went to the Coliseum in a carriage. After passing
through almost the whole length of the Corso, they passed successively
through several crooked and narrow streets, and at length emerged into
the great region of the ruins. On every side were tall columns, broken
and decayed, and immense arches standing meaningless and alone, and
mounds of ancient masonry, with weeds and flowers waving in the air on
the top of them. There were no houses, or scarcely any, in this part of
the city, but only grassy slopes with old walls appearing here and there
among them; and in some places enclosed fields and gardens, with corn,
and beans, and garden vegetables of every kind, growing at the base of
the majestic ruins.
The carriage stopped at one end of the Coliseum, where there was a
passage way leading through stupendous arches into the interior.
They dismissed the carriage, Rollo having first paid the coachman the
fare. They then, after gazing upward a moment at the vast pile of arches
upon arches, towering above them, advanced towards the openings, in
order to go in.
There was a soldier with a musket in his hands, bayonet set, walking to
and fro at the entrance. He, however, said nothing to Mr. George and
Rollo; and so, passing by him, they went in.
They passed in under immense arches of the most massive masonry, and
between the great piers built to sustain the arches, until they reached
the arena. There was a broad gravel walk passing across the arena from
end to end, and another leading around the circumference of it. The rest
of the surface was covered with grass, smooth and green.
The form of the arena was oval, as has already been said, and on every
side there ascended the sloping tiers, rising one above another to a
vast height, on which the seats for the spectators had been placed. Mr.
George and Rollo advanced along the central walk, and looked around
them, surveying the scene,--their minds filled with emotions of wonder
and awe.
"What a monstrous place it was!" said Rollo.
"It was, indeed," said Mr. George.
"Is it here where the men fought with the lions and the tigers?" asked
Rollo, pointing around him over the arena.
"Yes," said Mr. George.
"And up there, all around were the seats of the spectators, I suppose,"
said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "on those slopes."
You must know that the scats, and all the inside finish of the Coliseum,
were originally of marble, and people have stripped it all away, and
left nothing but the naked masonry; and even that is all now going to
ruin.
"What did they strip the marble off for?" asked Rollo.
"To build their houses and palaces with," replied Mr. George. "Half of
the modern palaces of Rome are built of stone and marble plundered from
the ancient ruins."
"O, uncle George!" exclaimed Rollo.
"Come out here where we can sit down," said Mr. George, "and I'll tell
you all about it."
[Illustration: LOOKING DOWN FROM THE COLISEUM.]
So saying, Mr. George led the way, and Rollo followed to one side of the
arena, where they could sit down on a large, flat stone, which seemed to
have been an ancient step. They were over-shadowed where they sat by
piers and arches, and by the masses of weeds and shrubbery that were
growing on the mouldering summits of them, and waving in the wind.
In the centre of the arena was a large cross, with a sort of platform
around it, and steps to go up. And all around the arena, on the sides,
at equal distances, there extended a range of little chapels, with
crucifixes and other Catholic symbols.
The arena of the Coliseum was kept in very neat order. For a wonder,
there were no beggars to be seen, but instead of them there were various
parties of well-dressed visitors walking about the paths, or sitting on
the massive stone fragments which lay under the ruined arches.
High up above these arches, the sloping platforms, on which the seats
formerly were placed, were to be seen rising one above another, tier
after tier, to a great height, with the ruins of galleries, corridors,
and vaulted passage ways passing around among them. The upper surfaces
of all these ruins were covered with grass and shrubbery.
"What has become of all the seats, uncle George?" said Rollo.
"Why, the seats, I suppose, were made of marble," replied Mr. George,
"or some other valuable material, and so all the stones have been taken
away."
Presently Rollo saw a party of visitors coming into view far up among
the upper stories of the ruins.
"Look, uncle George! Look!" said he; "there are some people away up
there, as high as the third or fourth story. How do you suppose they got
up there? Couldn't you and I go?"
"I presume so," said Mr. George. "I suppose that, in the way of
climbing, you and I can go as high as most people."
While Mr. George was saying this, Rollo was adjusting his opera glass to
his eyes, in order to take a nearer view of the party among the ruins.
"There are four of them," said he. "I see a gentleman, and two ladies,
and a little girl. They seem to be gathering something."
"Plants, perhaps," said Mr. George, "and flowers."
"Plants!" said Rollo, contemptuously; "I don't believe that any thing
grows out of such old stones and mortar but weeds."
"We call such things weeds," said Mr. George, "when they grow in the
gardens or fields, and are in the way; but when they grow in wild places
where they belong, they are plants and flowers."
"The gentleman is gathering them from high places all around him," said
Rollo, "and is giving them to the ladies, and they are putting them in
between the leaves of a book."
"They are going to carry them away as souvenirs of the Coliseum, I
suppose," said Mr. George.
"The girl has got a white stone in her hand," said Rollo.
"Perhaps it is a piece of marble that she has picked up," said Mr.
George.
"Now she has thrown down her white stone," said Rollo, "and has begun to
gather flowers."
"There is an immense number of plants that grow in and upon the
Coliseum," said Mr. George. "A botanist once made a complete collection
of them. How many species do you think he found?"
"Twenty," said Rollo.
"Guess again," said Mr. George.
"Fifteen," said Rollo.
"O, you must guess more, not less," said Mr. George.
"Thirty," said Rollo.
"More," said Mr. George.
"Forty," said Rollo.
"Add one cipher to it," said Mr. George, "and then you will be pretty
near right."
"What! four hundred?" exclaimed Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George. "A botanist made a catalogue of four hundred and
twenty plants, all growing on the ruins of this single building."
"O, uncle George!" said Rollo; "I don't think that can possibly be. I
mean to see."
So saying, Rollo laid the opera glass down upon the seat where he had
been sitting, and began to examine the masses of old ruined masonry near
him, with a view of seeing how many different kinds of plants he could
find.
"Must I count every thing, uncle George?" said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "every thing that is a plant. Every different
kind of sprig, or little weed, that you can find--mosses, lichens, and
all."
Rollo began to count. He very soon got up to twenty, and so he came to
the conclusion that the guide book--which was the authority on which Mr.
George had stated the number of plants found upon the ruins--was right.
While Rollo was thus engaged, Mr. George had remained quietly in his
seat, and had occupied himself with studying the guide book.
"Uncle George," said Rollo, when he came back, "I give it up. I have no
doubt that there are hundreds of plants in all, growing on these ruins."
"Yes," said Mr. George; "whatever is stated in this book is very apt to
prove true."
"What else did you read about, uncle George," said Rollo, "while I was
counting the plants?"
"I read," said Mr. George, "that the Coliseum was begun about A. D. 72,
by one of the Roman emperors."
"Then it is almost eighteen hundred years old," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George; "and when it was first opened after it was
finished, they had a sort of inauguration of it, with great
celebrations, that continued one hundred days."
"That is over three months," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George; "it was a very long celebration. During this
time about five thousand wild beasts were killed in the combats in the
arena."
"This very arena right before us?" said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George.
On hearing this, Rollo looked upon the arena with renewed interest and
pleasure. He endeavored to picture to himself the lions, and tigers, and
leopards, and other ferocious wild beasts, growling, snarling, and
tumbling over each other there, in the desperate combats which they
waged among themselves, or with the men sent in to fight with them.
"It continued to be used for such fights," added Mr. George, "for four
hundred years; and during this time a great many Christians were sent in
to be devoured by wild beasts, for the entertainment of the populace.
"After a while," continued Mr. George, "the Roman empire became
Christian; and then the government put a stop to all these savage
games."
"And what did they do with the Coliseum then?" asked Rollo.
"They did not know what to do with it for a time," said Mr. George; "but
at last, when wars broke out, and Rome was besieged, they tried to turn
it into a fortress."
"I should think it would make an excellent fortress," said Rollo, "only
there are no port-holes for the cannon."
"Ah! but they had no cannon in those days," said Mr. George. "They had
only bows and arrows, spears, javelins, and such sort of weapons, so
that they did not require any port-holes. The men could shoot their
weapons from the top of the wall."
In further conversation on the subject of the Coliseum, Mr. George
explained to Rollo how, in process of time, Rome was taken by the
barbarians, and a great portion of the Coliseum was destroyed; and then,
afterwards, when peace was restored, how the government, instead of
repairing the building, pulled it to pieces still more, in order to get
marble, and hewn stone, and sculptured columns, to build palaces with;
and how, at a later period, there was a plan formed for converting the
vast structure into a manufactory; and how, in connection with this
plan, immense numbers of shops were fitted up in the arcades and arches
below,--and how the plan finally failed, after having cost the pope who
undertook it ever so many thousand Roman dollars; how, after this, it
remained for many centuries wholly neglected, and the stones, falling in
from above, together with the broken bricks and mortar, formed on the
arena below, and all around the walls outside, immense heaps of rubbish;
and finally, how, about one hundred years ago, people began to take an
interest in the ruins, and to wish to clear away the rubbish, and to
prop up and preserve what remained of the walls and arches.
"It was the French that cleared away the rubbish at last," said Mr.
George, "and put the ruins in order."
"The French!" repeated Rollo; "how came the French here?"
"I don't know," said Mr. George. "The French are every where. And
wherever they go, they always take with their armies a corps of
philosophers, artists, and men of science, who look up every thing that
is curious, and put it in order, and preserve it if they can."
"Then I am glad they came here," said Rollo.
Here Mr. George shut his book, and rose from his seat, saying, as he did
so,--
"The Coliseum is so large that it covers six acres of ground."
"Six acres?" repeated Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George. "It is six hundred and twenty feet long. That is
monstrous for such a building; but then the steamship Great Eastern is
about a hundred feet longer."
"Then the Great Eastern is bigger than the Coliseum."
"She is longer," said Mr. George, "but she is not so wide nor so high."
"And which, all things considered, is the greatest work, do you think?"
asked Rollo.
"The Coliseum may have cost the most labor," said Mr. George, "but the
Great Eastern is far above it, in my opinion, in every element of real
greatness. The Coliseum is a most wonderful structure, no doubt; but the
building of an iron ship like the Great Eastern, to be propelled by
steam against all the storms and tempests of the ocean, to the remotest
corners of the earth, with ten thousand tons of merchandise on board, or
ten thousand men, is, in my opinion, much the greatest exploit."
"At any rate," said Rollo, "the Coliseum makes the finest ruin."
"I am not certain of that, even," said Mr. George. "Suppose that the
Great Eastern were to be drawn up upon the shore somewhere near London,
and be abandoned there; and that then the whole world should relapse
into barbarism, and remain so for a thousand years, and afterwards there
should come a revival of science and civilization, and people should
come here to see the ruins of the Coliseum, and go to London to see
those of the great ship, I think they would consider the ship the
greater wonder of the two."
"I think they would," said Rollo, "if they understood it all as well."
"They could not be easily made to believe, I suppose," said Mr. George,
"that such an immense structure, all of iron, could have been made, and
launched, and then navigated all over the world just by the power of the
maze of iron beams and wheels, and machinery, which they would see in
ruins in the hold."
"Uncle George," said Rollo, "what curious bricks the Romans used!"
So saying, Rollo pointed to the bricks in a mass of masonry near where
they were standing. These bricks, like all those that were used in the
construction of the building, were very flat. They were a great deal
longer and a great deal wider than our bricks, and were yet not much
more than half as thick. This gave them a very thin and flat appearance.
Instead of being red, too, they were of a yellow color.
These bricks had not originally been used for outside works, but only
for filling in the solid parts of the walls, and for forming the arches.
But the stones with which the brick masonry had been covered and
concealed having been removed, the bricks were of course in many places
brought to view.
After looking about for some time, Rollo found a brick with two letters
stamped upon it. It was evident that the letters had been stamped upon
the clay in the making of the brick, while it was yet soft. The letters
were P. D.
"Look, uncle George!" said Rollo; "look at those letters! What do you
suppose they mean?"
"That is very curious," said Mr. George; and so saying he proceeded to
examine the letters very closely.
"They were evidently stamped upon the brick," he said, "when it was
soft. Perhaps they are the initials of the maker's name."
"I mean to look and see if all the bricks are stamped so," said Rollo.
So Rollo began to examine the other bricks wherever he could find any
which had a side exposed to view; but though he found some which
contained the letters, there were many others where no letters were to
be seen.
"Perhaps the letters are on the under side," said Rollo. "I mean to get
a stone and knock up some of the bricks, if I can, and see."
"No," said Mr. George; "that won't do."
"Yes, uncle George," said Rollo; "I want to see very much. And besides,
I want to get a piece of a brick with the letters on it, to carry home
as a specimen."
"A specimen of what?" asked Mr. George.
"A specimen of the Coliseum," said Rollo.
"No," said Mr. George; "I don't think that will do. They don't want to
have the Coliseum knocked to pieces, and carried off any more."
"Who don't?" asked Rollo.
"The government," said Mr. George; "the pope."
"But it's very hard," said Rollo, "if the popes, after plundering the
Coliseum themselves for hundreds of years, and carrying off all the
beautiful marbles, and columns, and statues, to build their palaces
with, can't let an American boy like me take away a little bit of a
brick to put into my museum for a specimen."
Mr. George laughed and walked on. Rollo, who never persisted in desiring
to do any thing which his uncle disapproved of, quietly followed him.
"Uncle George," said Rollo, "how do you suppose we can get up into the
upper part, among the tiers of seats?"
"I think there must be a staircase somewhere," said Mr. George. "We will
ramble about, and see if we do not find one."
So they walked on. They went sometimes along the margin of the arena,
and then at other times they turned in under immense openings in
masonry, and walked along the vaulted corridors, which were built in the
thickness of the walls. There were several of these corridors side by
side, each going entirely round the arena. They were surmounted by
stupendous arches, which were built to sustain the upper portions of the
building, which contained the seats for the spectators, and the passages
on the upper floors leading to them.
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE LOWER CORRIDOR.]
After rambling on through and among the corridors for some time, Mr.
George and Rollo, on emerging again into the arena, came to a wooden
gate at the foot of a broad flight of stone steps, which seemed to lead
up into the higher stories of the ruin.
"Ah!" exclaimed Rollo, as soon as he saw this gateway and the flight of
steps beyond it, "this is the gate that leads up to the upper tiers."
"Yes," replied Mr. George, "only it is shut and locked."
Rollo went to the gate and took hold of it, but found, as Mr. George had
said, that it was locked.
"But here comes the custodian," said Mr. George.
Rollo looked, and saw a man coming along the side of the arena with a
key in his hand. When the man came near, he looked at Mr. George and
Rollo, and also at the door, and then asked a question in Italian.
"_Si, signore_," said Mr. George.
So the man advanced and unlocked the door. As soon as he had unlocked
it, and Mr. George and Rollo had passed through, he looked towards them
again, and asked another question.
"_No, signore_," said Mr. George.
Mr. George and Rollo then began to go up the stairs, while the man,
having locked the door after them, went away.
CHAPTER VII.
THE GLADIATOR.
"How did you know what it was that that man asked you?" asked Rollo.
"I knew from the circumstances of the case," replied Mr. George. "The
first question I knew must be whether we wished to go up; and the
second, whether we wished him to go with us."
"What do you suppose they keep the gate locked for?" asked Rollo.
"So as to _make_ us pay when we come down," said Mr. George.
"Do you suppose they mean to make us pay?" asked Rollo.
"They will not make us, exactly," said Mr. George; "but they will expect
something, no doubt. There may be another reason, however, why they keep
the gate locked; and that is, to prevent children and stragglers from
going up, where they might fall and break their necks at some of the
exposed and dangerous places."
"Do you suppose that there are dangerous places up here?" asked Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George; "I suppose there are a great many; and I advise
you to be very careful where you go."
The flight of stairs where Mr. George and Rollo were ascending was very
broad; and it was formed of the long, flat bricks, such as Rollo had
observed below. The bricks were placed edgewise.
"I suppose that these steps were covered with slabs of marble, in old
times," said Rollo.
"Probably," said Mr. George; "either with marble, or some other harder
stone."
After ascending some distance, Rollo, who went forward, came out upon
the landing which led to a range of corridors in the second story, as it
were. There were several of these corridors, running side by side, all
along the building. On one side, you could pass through arches, and come
out to the platforms where the seats had originally been arranged, and
where you could look down upon the arena. The seats themselves were all
gone, and in their places nothing was left but sloping platforms, all
gone to ruin, and covered now with grass, and weeds, and tall bramble
bushes. On the other side, you could go out to the outer wall, and look
down through immense arched openings, to the ground below.[5]
[Footnote 5: See Frontispiece.]
"Take care, Rollo," said Mr. George; "don't go too near."
"You may go as near as you think it is safe," said Rollo, "and I will
keep back an inch from where you go."
"That's right," said Mr. George. "There is great pleasure and
satisfaction in going into dangerous places with such a sensible boy as
you."
After rambling about among the arches and corridors of the second story
for some time, Mr. George and Rollo mounted to a story above. They found
ruins of staircases in great numbers, so that there were a great many
different places where they could go up. Mr. George allowed Rollo to go
about wherever he pleased, knowing that he would keep at a safe distance
from all places where there was danger of falling.
From time to time, they met other parties of visitors rambling about the
ruins. If these persons were French or German, they generally bowed to
Rollo and Mr. George as they passed, and greeted them with a pleasant
smile, as if of recognition. If, on the other hand, they were English,
they passed directly by, looking straight forward, as if they did not
see them at all.
Whenever Rollo came to a new staircase, he wished to ascend it, being
seemingly desirous of getting up as high as he could. Mr. George made no
objection to this. Indeed, he allowed Rollo to choose the way, and to go
where he pleased. He himself followed, walking slowly, in a musing
manner, filled, apparently, with wondering admiration, and contemplating
the stupendous magnitude of the ruin.
"Uncle George," said Rollo, "if I had my pressing book here, I would
gather some of these plants and press them, to carry home."
Mr. George did not answer. He was standing in an advanced position,
where he had an uninterrupted survey of the whole interior of the
Coliseum; and he was endeavoring to picture to his imagination the scene
which must have been presented to view when the vast amphitheatre was
filled with spectators.
"If I had expected to find so many plants growing on the ruins of a
building, I should have brought it," said Rollo.
The pressing book which Rollo referred to, was one made expressly for
the purpose of pressing flowers. The leaves of it were of blotting
paper.
Rollo was half inclined to ask Mr. George to put some specimens into the
Guide Book; but he did _not_ ask him, because he knew that Mr. George
did not like to have dried plants in the Guide Book. Such specimens
between the leaves of a book interfere very much with the convenience of
using it, by dropping out when you open the book, or impeding the
turning of the leaves.
"But I mean to come again," continued Rollo, "and bring my pressing
book, and then I can get as many specimens as I please. Wouldn't you,
uncle George?"
"Wouldn't you what?" said Mr. George. Mr. George had been paying very
little attention to what Rollo had been saying.
"Come again some day," said Rollo, "and bring my pressing book, so as to
collect specimens of some of these little plants."
"Yes," said Mr. George, "that will be an excellent plan. And I wish,
while you are doing it, you would gather some for me. And if you wish
for some now, I can let you put them in the Guide Book."
"No, I thank you," said Rollo. "I will wait till I come again."
The height of the outer walls of the Coliseum is over a hundred and
fifty feet, which would be the height of a house fifteen stories high.
There are not many church steeples higher than that.
If, therefore, you conceive of an oval-shaped field six acres in
extent, with a massive wall one hundred and fifty feet high, and divided
into four immense stories, surrounding it, and from the top of this wall
ranges of seats, with passages between them, sloping in towards the
centre, leaving about an acre of open and level space in the centre for
the arena, the whole finished in the most magnificent and gorgeous
manner, with columns, statues, sculptured ornaments, and all the seats,
and walls, and staircases, and corridors, and vestibules, and tribunes,
and pavilions for musicians, and seats for judges, designed and arranged
in the highest style of architectural beauty, and encased and adorned
with variegated marbles of the most gorgeous description,--if, I say,
you can conceive of all this, you will have some faint idea of what the
Coliseum must have been in the days of its glory.
Mr. George and Rollo continued to ascend the different staircases which
they met with in their wanderings, until at length they had reached a
great elevation; and yet so immense was the extent of the interior of
the edifice, that they were not at all too high to see the arena to
advantage. Here Rollo crept out upon one of the sloping platforms, where
there had formerly been seats for spectators, and calling to Mr. George
to follow him, he sat down upon a great square stone, which seemed to
have formed a part of the ancient foundation of the seats.
"Come, uncle George," said Rollo, "let us sit down here a few minutes,
and make believe that the games are going on, and that we are the
spectators."
"Yes," said Mr. George, "we will. In that way we can get a better idea
of what the Coliseum was."
"I wish we could bring it all back again," said Rollo, "just as it was
in old times, by some sort of magic."
"We must do it by the magic of imagination," said Mr. George.
"Only," continued Rollo, "the things that they did down in the arena
were so dreadful that we could not bear to look at them."
"True," said Mr. George. "The spectacles must have been very dreadful,
indeed."
"Such as when the lions and tigers came out to tear and devour the poor
Christians," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George; "but generally, I suppose, when wild beasts and
men were brought out together on the arena, it was the beasts that were
killed, and not the men. It was a combat, and I suppose that the men
were usually victorious. It was the spectacle of the fury of the
combat, and of the bravery which the men displayed, and of the terrible
danger that they were often exposed to, that so excited and pleased the
spectators."
"I should not have thought that they could have found any men that would
have been willing to fight the beasts," said Rollo.
"Perhaps the men were not willing," replied Mr. George, "but were
compelled to fight them. Indeed, I suppose that they were generally
prisoners of war or criminals. The generals used to bring home a great
many prisoners of war from the different countries that they conquered,
and these men were trained in Rome, and in other great cities, to fight
on the arena, either with wild beasts, or with one another. They were
called _gladiators_. There is a statue of one, wounded and dying,
somewhere here in Rome."
"I should like to see it," said Rollo.
"We _shall_ see it, undoubtedly," said Mr. George. "It is one of the
most celebrated statues in the world. It is called the _Dying
Gladiator_. I presume the sculptor of it made it from his recollections
of the posture and expression of face which were witnessed in the case
of real gladiators in the arena, when they had been mortally wounded,
and were sinking down to die."
"We certainly must see it," said Rollo.
"We certainly will," rejoined Mr. George. "It is celebrated all over the
world. Byron wrote a very fine stanza describing it."
"What was the stanza?" asked Rollo.
"I don't remember it all," said Mr. George. "It was something about his
sinking down upon the ground, leaning upon his hand, and the expression
of his face showed, though he yielded to death, he conquered and
triumphed over the pain. Then there is something about his wife and
children, far away in Dacia, his native land, where he had been captured
in fighting to protect them, and brought to Rome to fight and die in the
Coliseum, to make amusement for the Roman populace."
"I wish you could remember the lines themselves," said Rollo.
"Perhaps I can find them in the Guide Book," said Mr. George.
So saying, Mr. George opened the Guide Book, and turned to the index.
"I believe," said he, "that the statue of the Dying Gladiator is in the
Capitol."
"We have not been there yet, have we?" asked Rollo.
"Yes," replied Mr. George; "we went there the first day, to get a view
from the cupola on the summit. But there is a museum of sculptures and
statues there which we have not seen yet. You see the Capitol Hill was
in ancient times one of the most important public places in Rome, and
when the city was destroyed, immense numbers of statues, and inscribed
marbles, and beautiful sculptured ornaments were buried up there in the
rubbish and ruins. When, finally, they were dug out, new buildings were
erected on the spot, and all the objects that were found there were
arranged in a museum. Ah! here it is," he added. "I have found the
lines."
So Mr. George read the lines as follows. He read them in a slow and
solemn manner.
"I see before me the gladiator lie;
He leans upon his hand; his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony;
And his drooped head sinks gradually low;
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
Like the first of a thunder shower; and now
The arena swims around him--he is gone,
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
"He heard it, but he heeded not; his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away.
He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play;
There was their Dacian mother--he, their sire,
Butchered to make a Roman holiday.
All this rushed with his blood. Shall he expire,
And unavenged? Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire."
"The Goths did arise and glut their ire," said Mr. George, after he had
finished reciting the lines, "for they were in great measure the authors
of all this ruin and destruction."
After sitting nearly half an hour in this place, Mr. George rose, and,
Rollo following him, went back into the corridors again. They rambled
along the corridors, and mounted the staircases to higher and higher
points, until they had ascended as far as they could go. In these upper
regions of the ruin Rollo had a good opportunity to procure specimens of
marble and of stamped bricks, for in various places there, he found
immense stores of bricks and marble, and other rubbish, piled up in
square heaps under arches, or in great recesses among the ruins. Rollo
selected some of the bricks which had stamps upon them, and then, with a
piece of marble for a hammer, he contrived to break away all of the
brick except the part which contained the stamp, and thus procured
specimens of a convenient form for carrying. These specimens he wrapped
separately in pieces of newspaper, and put them in his pockets.
At length Mr. George said it was time for them to go home; so they began
to descend. They went down by different passages and staircases from
those which they had taken in coming up; but they came out at last at
the same gateway. The custodian was just unlocking the gate when they
arrived, in order to admit another party. Mr. George gave him a couple
of pauls, and then he and Rollo set out to go home.
Their way led them over the ancient site of the Roman Forum, which
presented to view on every side, as they passed, broken columns and
ruined arches, with the mouldering remains of ancient foundations,
cropping out here and there amid grassy slopes and mounds.
"Uncle George," said Rollo, as they walked along, "we are going directly
by the Capitol Hill as we go home. Let us go in now and see the Dying
Gladiator."
"Very well," said Mr. George, "we will."
Accordingly, when they reached the base of the hill, they turned to go
up. There was a broad and steep paved ascent leading up the hill,
somewhat like a road, only it was too steep for a carriage. Indeed,
there were little steps at short intervals, with a sloping pavement
between them. You see this ascent in the engraving. It is in the centre
of the view. There are statues of lions at the foot of it, with water
spouting from their mouths. At the top are larger statues of horses,
standing on lofty pedestals, with men by the side of them, holding them
by the bridles. These are ancient statues. They were found buried up
in rubbish in an obscure quarter of Rome, about two hundred years ago.
Beyond, you see other groups of colossal statuary raised on lofty
pedestals in various parts of the great square which forms the summit of
the hill.
[Illustration: ASCENT TO THE CAPITOL.]
On the left you see a church, standing in a very high position, with a
still steeper ascent than the one I have been describing, leading up to
it. On the right is a winding road for carriages, which leads up, by a
tolerably gentle ascent, to the great square.
The great square is surrounded with vast palaces, almost all of which
are filled with paintings, statuary, sculptures, and other treasures of
ancient and modern art. Mr. George and Rollo turned to the left after
they had ascended into the square, and entered a door over which was an
inscription denoting that it led to the museum of sculptures and
statues. After ascending one or two staircases, they came to the
entrance of a suit of apartments in which the statuary was contained.
There was a public functionary, dressed somewhat like a soldier,
standing sentinel at the door. He, however, readily allowed Mr. George
and Rollo to pass in. There were various other parties of visitors going
in at the same time.
Mr. George and Rollo walked through one long room after another, with
rows of statues, and busts, and other works of ancient sculpture on each
side. These marbles were almost all more or less chipped and broken, or
otherwise greatly defaced by the hard usage to which they had been
subjected.
"Uncle George," said Rollo, as they walked along, "how came all their
ears and noses broken off in this way?"
"Why, all these things were dug out from heaps of stones and rubbish,"
said Mr. George, "a few hundred years ago. For nearly a thousand years
before that time, they were regarded as of no more value than so many
old bricks.
"Here's a gentleman coming," added Mr. George, interrupting himself,
"who looks as if he could speak French. I mean to ask him where the hall
of the Dying Gladiator is."
Accordingly, when the gentleman came up, Mr. George, accosting him in
French, asked him the question, and the gentleman, replying in French,
gave the information in a very polite manner. It was a little farther
on, he said.
"Is there a special hall for the Dying Gladiator?" asked Rollo.
"No," said Mr. George, "not for the Dying Gladiator alone. But many of
the halls in these museums are named from the most celebrated statue
that there is in them. And I knew that the room where the Dying
Gladiator is placed was called by that name."
So they walked on, and presently they came to the room. There were a
great many large statues in it; but among them it was very easy to
recognize at once the one which they had come to see, both on account of
the conspicuous situation in which it was placed, and also from its
form. Here is a representation of it.
[Illustration: STATUE OF THE GLADIATOR.]
Mr. George and Rollo both looked upon the statue for a few minutes in
silence.
"Yes," said Rollo, at length, "yes, I see. He is dying. He is sinking
gradually down."
"Do you see the wound in his side?" asked Mr. George.
"Yes," replied Rollo, "and the drops of blood coming out."
"He has dropped his sword," said Mr. George. "It is lying there near his
hand."
"What a short sword!" said Rollo. "There are some other things lying on
the ground beneath him, but I do not know what they are."
"Nor I," said Mr. George. "One of them seems to be a sort of trumpet.
People think from that that this man was a herald."
"But I thought he was a gladiator," said Rollo.
"They call him a gladiator," replied Mr. George, "but nobody really
knows what the statue was originally intended for. You see it was dug up
out of a heap of rubbish, just as almost all these statues were, and
people have to guess what they were intended for. This statue was dug up
in a garden--a garden belonging to an ancient Roman villa."
"What does that cord around his neck mean?" asked Rollo.
"They think it means that the man was a Gaul. The Gauls used to wear
such cords, I believe."
"I thought he was a Dacian," said Rollo.
"I suppose it is uncertain who he was," replied Mr. George; "but look at
his face. See the expression of it. It is an expression of mingled
suffering and rage, and yet he looks as if he were so far gone as to
begin to be unconscious of every thing around him."
"Yes," said Rollo; "he does not seem to notice us at all."
"In that," said Mr. George, "is shown the great skill of the sculptor,
to express such different, and, as one would think, almost conflicting
emotions in the same face, at the same time."
After looking at the statue some time longer, Rollo and Mr. George
walked around the room, and looked at the other pieces of sculpture that
there were there. They afterwards came back again to the gladiator, in
order to take one more view of it before they went away. Mr. George
advised Rollo to look at it well, and impress the image of it strongly
on his mind.
"It is one of the treasures of the world," said he; "and in the course
of your life, though you may never see it here, in the original, again,
you will meet with casts of it and drawings of it without number, and
you will find descriptions of it and allusions to it continually
recurring in the conversation that you hear and the books that you read.
Indeed, the image of the Dying Gladiator forms a part of the mental
furnishing of every highly-cultivated intellect in the civilized
world."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE TARPEIAN ROCK.
One morning while Mr. George and Rollo were taking breakfast together in
the dining room of the hotel, Mr. George remarked that he had received
some news that morning.
"Is it good news, or bad news?" asked Rollo.
"It is good for me," replied Mr. George, "but I rather think you will
consider it bad for you."
"Tell me what it is," said Rollo, "and then I will tell you how I
consider it."
So Mr. George informed Rollo that the news which he had received was,
that there had been an arrival from America, and that the last night's
post had brought the papers to town.
"And so," said Mr. George, "I am going to spend the morning at
Piale's[6] library, reading the papers, and you will be left to
entertain yourself."
[Footnote 6: Pronounced _Pe-ah-ly's_.]
"O, that's no matter," said Rollo. "I can get Charles Beekman to go
with me. We can take care of ourselves very well."
"What will you do?" asked Mr. George.
"I want to go and see the Tarpeian Rock," said Rollo. "I read about that
rock, and about Tarpeia, in a history in America, and I want to see how
the rock looks."
"Do you know where it is?" asked Mr. George.
"No," said Rollo; "but I can find out."
"Very well," said Mr. George; "then I leave you to take care of
yourself. You can get Charles to go, if his mother will trust him with
you."
"She will, I am sure," said Rollo.
"Why, you got lost when you took him the other day," said Mr. George,
"and you had ever so much difficulty in finding your way home again."
"O, no, uncle George," said Rollo, "we did not have any difficulty at
all. We only had a little fun."
Soon after breakfast Mr. George bade Rollo good by, and went off to the
bookstore and library, where he was to see and read the American papers.
As soon as his uncle had gone, Rollo went up to Mrs. Beekman's room, and
knocked at the door. A well-dressed man servant came to the door. It
was Mr. Beekman's courier.
"Walk in, Mr. Rollo," said the courier; "Mrs. Beekman and Charles will
come in a minute."
So Rollo went in. The room was a small parlor, very beautifully
furnished. In a few minutes Mrs. Beekman and Charles came in, followed
by Charles's sister, a lively young lady about twelve years of age. Her
name was Almira, though they usually called her Allie.
Rollo informed Mrs. Beekman, when she came into the room, that he had
come to ask her to allow Charles to go and make an excursion with him.
He was going, he said, to see the Tarpeian Rock.
"O, I would not go to see the Tarpeian Rock," said Mrs. Beekman. "Some
ladies of my acquaintance went to see it the other day, and they said it
was nothing at all."
"Ah, yes, mother!" said Charles, in an entreating tone of voice, "let me
go with Rollo."
"Why, there is nothing at all to see," said Mrs. Beekman. "It is only a
small, steep face of a rock in a bank. On the Hudson River Railroad you
see rocks and precipices forty times as picturesque, all along the way."
Still Rollo and Charles were very desirous to go. The truth was, it was
not so much what they expected to see at the end of the excursion, which
made it so alluring to them, as the interest and excitement of the
various adventures which they thought they would meet with on the way.
Finally Mrs. Beekman said that she had not the least objection in the
world to their going to see the rock, only she was herself perfectly
convinced that they would not find any thing worth seeing.
"I wish Allie could go too," said Rollo.
"Yes, mother," said Allie, clapping her hands.
"Why, do you care about seeing the Tarpeian Rock?" asked her mother.
"Yes, mother," said Allie, "I wish to see it very much, though I don't
know what it is. What is it, Rollo?"
"I'll tell you all about it on the way," said Rollo, "if you can only go
with us."
"But she cannot walk there," said Mrs. Beekman. "No lady ever walks in
Rome."
"I will take a carriage," said Rollo.
"I am afraid you don't know how to manage about a carriage," said Mrs.
Beekman.
"Yes, mother," replied Charles, "he knows how to manage about a carriage
perfectly well. I tried him the other day."
Mrs. Beekman finally gave a tardy and reluctant consent to the
children's proposal. She did not manage the case very wisely. She
should have considered in the first instance what her decision ought to
be, and then she should have adhered to it. If she was going to consent
at all, she should have consented cordially, and at once. For parents
first to refuse their children's request, and then allow themselves to
be induced to change their determination by the entreaties and
persuasions of the children themselves, is bad management.
Allie went into her mother's bed room to get ready, and in a few minutes
returned, her countenance beaming with animation and pleasure.
They all went down to the door of the hotel. There were several
carriages standing in the square. The coachmen, as soon as they saw the
party at the door, all began to hold up their whips, and to call to
Rollo. Some of them began to move their horses towards him.
Rollo glanced his eyes rapidly at the several coaches, and selecting the
one which he thought looked the best, he beckoned to the coachman of it.
The coachman immediately drew up to the door. He then jumped down from
the box, and opened the carriage door.
Before getting in, however, Rollo wished to make his bargain; so he said
to the coachman,--
"To the Capitol. Two pauls."
He spoke these words in the Italian language. He had learned the Italian
for "two pauls" long before, and he had looked out the Italian name for
the Capitol in his Guide Book that morning, so as to be all ready. The
Italian name which he found was _Campidoglio_.
The coachman hesitated a moment, and then said, holding up three fingers
at the same time,--
"Three pauls."
Of course he spoke in Italian.
Rollo, instead of answering him, immediately began to turn away and look
out towards the other carriages.
"_Si, signore, si,_" said the coachman. "Two pauls let it be."
So he held open the carriage door wider than ever, and Rollo assisted
Allie to get in. He and Charles followed, and then the coachman drove
away.
"You agreed to give him too much," said Charles, as soon as they were
seated. "A paul and a half is the regular fare."
"I know it," said Rollo; "but I always offer a little more than the
regular fare, especially when I have a lady with me, for then they have
not a word to say."
"But this man had a word to say," replied Charles. "He wanted you to
give him three pauls."
"Yes," said Rollo, "sometimes they try a little to make a dispute; but
they have no chance at all, and they give right up."
Rollo had ordered the coachman to drive to the Capitol, because he had
found, by studying the map and the Guide Book, that the entrance to the
enclosure where the Tarpeian Rock was to be seen was very near there. He
had examined the map attentively, and so he knew exactly which way he
must go after being set down at the foot of the Capitol stairs.
Accordingly, when the carriage stopped, Rollo got out first himself, and
then helped Allie and Charles out. He paid the coachman the price agreed
upon, and a couple of coppers over for _buono mano_.
"Now," said he to Charles and Allie, "follow me."
Rollo went on a little way along a winding street, and then turning to
the right, began to go up a steep ascent, formed of very broad steps,
which seemed to lead to a higher street. As soon as the party began to
go up these steps, they saw several children running down from above to
meet them. When these children reached the place where Rollo was, they
began saying something very eagerly in Italian, scrambling up the
steps again at the same time, so as to keep up with Rollo and his party.
"What do these children want?" asked Allie.
"I don't know," said Rollo. "I have not the least idea."
"I suppose they are begging," said Charles.
"No," said Allie. "If they were begging, they would hold out their
hands."
At the top of the stairs Rollo and his party were met by half a dozen
more children, so that there were now eight or ten in all. They ran on
before and by the side of Rollo and his party, all looking very eager
and animated, talking incessantly, and beckoning and pointing forward.
"Ah!" said Rollo, "I know. They want to show us the way to the Tarpeian
Rock."
"But you said you knew the way," said Allie.
"I said I could find it," replied Rollo, "and so I can; but I am willing
to pay one of these children for showing me, but not all. Stop a minute,
till I choose. Or, rather, you may choose, Allie," he added.
The party now stopped, while Allie surveyed the ragged and
wretched-looking group before her.
"There is not a pretty child among them," said Allie.
"You should not look for the best looking one, Allie," said Charles.
"You should choose the _worst_ looking one. She is likely to need it
most. Pretty looking girls get along well enough."
"Then I choose that poor barefooted girl, that looks so pale," said
Allie.
"Yes," said Rollo; "she looks as if she had had a fever."
So Rollo pointed to the girl, and showed her a copper, which he took for
the purpose from his pocket. At the same time he made a waving motion
with his hand to the rest, to denote that he did not wish for their
services, and that they might go away.
The barefooted girl seemed greatly pleased. Her pale and emaciated face
was lighted up with a smile of pleasure. She ran along forward,
beckoning to Rollo and his party to follow.
The rest of the children, though they understood perfectly the signal of
dismission that Rollo had made to them, were determined not to be sent
off in that way; so they went on gesticulating and clamoring as much as
ever.
Rollo paid no attention to them, but walked on with Charles and Allie at
his side. Presently their guide, and all the other children with her,
stopped at a sort of gateway in a wall. By the side of the gateway there
was an iron ring hanging by a chain. Two or three of the children seized
this ring together and pulled it, by which means a bell was rung inside.
The other children crowded together on each side of this gate, leaving
room, however, for Rollo and his party to go through, and all held out
their hands for money.
"I am only going to pay the one that I engaged," said Rollo; "but, poor
thing, I mean to give her two coppers, instead of one, she looks so sick
and miserable."
"So I would," said Allie. "And here," she added, putting her hand into
her pocket and taking out a Roman copper coin, "I have got a penny here;
you may give her that, too."
"That is not a penny," said Charles. "That is a _baioccho_."
"Never mind," said Allie; "_I_ call it a penny. I can't remember the
other name. Besides, it is all the same thing."
Rollo gave the three pieces of money to the poor girl, and the rest of
the children, when they saw how generous he was, became more clamorous
than ever. But Rollo paid no heed to them. Indeed, a moment after he had
paid his little guide her money, the gate opened, and the party went
in. The poor children were all left outside, and shut out.
It was a small girl, about thirteen years old, that opened the gate.
Rollo and his party found themselves ushered into a sort of garden. The
girl led the way along a narrow path between beds of beans, lettuce, and
other garden vegetables. Besides these vegetables, there were groups of
shrubbery here and there, among which roses and other flowers were
blooming. This garden seemed to be in the heart of the city, for it was
bordered on three sides by buildings, and on the fourth by a low wall,
which appeared to be built on the brow of a hill, for the roofs and
chimneys of other houses, situated on a lower level, could be seen over
it below.
The girl led the way to a place by this wall, where, by looking over,
there could be seen, at a distance along the hill, a small place where
the rock which formed the face of it was precipitous. The precipice
seemed to be about ten or fifteen feet high.
"Is that the Tarpeian Rock?" asked Rollo.
The girl who conducted them did not reply, not knowing any language but
the Italian.
"I've seen a great deal prettier rocks in America," said Allie.
"Then are you sorry you came?" asked Rollo.
"O, no!" said Allie; "I am very glad I came. But what is it that makes
this rock so famous?"
"Why, it is the place where, in old times, a very remarkable thing
happened," replied Rollo. "I read the story in the history of Rome, when
I was studying history in America. There was a girl named Tarpeia. She
lived somewhere near the top of this rock, and the wall of the city came
somewhere along here, and there was a gate. The Sabines made war against
the Romans, and came to attack the city, but they could not get in on
account of the walls. One day Tarpeia was on the wall looking down, and
she saw some of the Sabine soldiers walking about below."
"Why did not they shoot her?" asked Charles.
"O, they had no motive for shooting her," replied Rollo. "She was a
nice, pretty girl, I suppose, and they liked to look at her, and to talk
with her. Besides, they had a cunning plan in view. They asked her
whether they could not induce her to open the gates and let them into
the city. She said she would do it if they would give her what they wore
on their arms. She meant their bracelets. The soldiers in those days
used to adorn themselves with rings, and bracelets, and other such
things. But then, besides these bracelets they wore their shields and
bucklers on their arms. These were very heavy things, made of iron, and
covered with hides. So they agreed that they would give her what they
wore on their arms, secretly meaning that they would throw their
bucklers upon her; but she thought they meant that they would give her
their bracelets.
"So that night," continued Rollo, "the soldiers came, bringing a great
many other soldiers with them, and Tarpeia opened the gate and let them
in. The whole troop rushed by her into the town, as fast as they could
go, and as they passed they all threw their bucklers upon poor Tarpeia,
till she was crushed to death, and buried up by them. It was pretty near
this rock where this happened, and so, forever after, they called it the
Tarpeian Rock, and that is the reason why so many people come to see
it."
There was a moment's pause after Rollo had finished his story, during
which Allie looked quite concerned. At length she said, in a very
earnest tone,--
"I think it was a shame!"
"I think they served her just right," said Charles.
"O, Charles!" replied Alice, "how can you say so?"
The girl who had conducted the party through the garden now began to
lead the way back again, and they all followed her. As she walked along,
the girl began to gather flowers from the beds and borders, and finally
made quite a pretty bouquet. When she got to the gate, and was ready to
open it, she presented this bouquet in a very polite and graceful manner
to Allie. Rollo took some money from his pocket, and put it into her
hand; and then she opened the gate, and let them all out.
"How much did you pay her, Rollo?" asked Charles.
"I paid her double," said Rollo, "because she was so polite as to give
Allie such a pretty bouquet."
Allie was now more pleased with her bouquet than before. It pleased her
extremely to find that Rollo took so much interest in her receiving a
bouquet as to pay something specially for it.
So they all went down the steps which led to the foot of the Capitol
Hill.
"Shall we walk home?" asked Rollo, "or shall I find a carriage, so that
we can ride?"
"Let us walk," replied Allie, "and then we shall be longer on the way."
Just then Rollo, looking at the sky, saw that there were some rather
threatening clouds diffused over it. Indeed, on putting out his hand, he
plainly felt a sprinkling of rain.
"It is going to rain," said he, "and so we shall be obliged to ride. But
we can make it longer by stopping to see something on the way."
"Well," said Allie, "let's do it. What shall we stop to see?"
"If there is going to be a shower," said Rollo, "it would be a good time
to stop and see the Pantheon."
"What is the Pantheon?" asked Allie.
"It is an immense round church, with a great hole in the roof," replied
Rollo.
"Why don't they mend the hole?" asked Charles.
"O, they made it so on purpose," said Rollo.
"Made it on purpose!" repeated Allie. "I never heard of such a thing. I
should think the rain would come in."
"It does come in," said Rollo, "and that is the reason why I want to go
and see the Pantheon in the time of a shower. It is so curious to see
the rain falling down slowly to the pavement. You see, the church is
round, and there is a dome over it, and in the centre of the dome they
left a great round hole."
"How big?" asked Allie.
"It is twenty-eight feet across," said Rollo; "but you would not think
it so big when you come to see it. It is up so high that it looks very
small. We know how big it is by the size of the wet spot on the floor."
By the time that the party had arrived at this point in the
conversation, Rollo saw a carriage standing in the street at a little
distance before him, and he made a signal to the coachman to come to
him. The coachman came. Rollo made his bargain with him, and they all
got in. The coachman drove immediately to the Pantheon, and they arrived
there just as the shower began to come on.
Before the church was an immense portico, supported by columns. The
columns, and the whole entablature which they supported, were darkened
by time, and cracked, and chipped, and broken in the most remarkable
manner. Allie and Charles stood under the portico and looked around,
while Rollo paid the coachman.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE PANTHEON.]
There was a large open square before the Pantheon, with an ancient and
very remarkable looking fountain in the centre of it. There was a basin
around this fountain, into which monstrous mouths, carved in marble,
were spouting water. When Rollo had paid the coachman, he led the way
into the church. Allie and Charles followed him. They found themselves
ushered into an immense circular interior, with rows of columns all
around the sides, and chapels, and sculptures, and paintings, and
beautiful panels of variegated marbles between them.
Overhead was an immense dome. This dome is nearly a hundred and fifty
feet high, and the circular opening in the centre of it is about thirty
feet across. Through this opening the rain was descending in a steady
but gentle shower. It was very curious to look up and see the
innumerable drops falling slowly from the bright opening above, down to
the marble floor. This opening is the only window. There is no other
place, as you will see by the engraving, where light can come in.
The margin of the opening is formed of an immense brass ring. Such a
ring is necessary in a structure like this, and it must be of great
thickness and strength, to resist the pressure of the stones crowding in
upon it all around.
This Pantheon was built by the ancient Romans, two thousand years ago.
What it was built for originally nobody now knows. In modern times it
has been changed into a church. It is immensely large, being nearly a
hundred and fifty feet in diameter, and a hundred and fifty feet high.
If you will inquire and ascertain what is the size of some large
building in your vicinity, and compare it with these dimensions, you
will form a clearer idea of the magnitude of this ancient edifice than
you can acquire in any other way.
Rollo and his party rambled about the Pantheon, looking at the statues,
and paintings, and chapels, and observing the groups of pilgrims and of
visitors that were continually coming and going, for nearly an hour. By
this time the shower had entirely passed away, and the sun having come
out bright, they all walked home.
CHAPTER IX.
GOING TO OSTIA.
While Rollo was at Rome, he made the acquaintance of a boy named Copley.
Copley was an English boy, and he was about a year older than Rollo.
Rollo first saw him at the door of the hotel, as he, Copley, was
dismounting from his horse, on his return from a ride which he had been
taking into the country. He had been attended on his ride by a servant
man named Thomas. Thomas dismounted from his horse first, and held the
bridle of Copley's horse while Copley dismounted.
"There!" said Copley, walking off with a very grand air, and leaving his
horse in Thomas's hands; "take the horse, Thomas, and never bring me
such an animal as that again. Next time I ride I shall take Jessie."
"But Mr. William has forbidden me to give you Jessie," said Thomas. "He
says she is not safe."
"It's none of his business," said Copley. "He thinks, because he is a
little older than I am, and because he is married,--though he has not
been married much more than a month,--that he has a right to order me
about just as he pleases. And I am determined not to submit to it--would
you?"
These last words were addressed to Rollo. Copley had been advancing
towards the door of the hotel, while he had been speaking, and had now
just reached the step where Rollo was standing.
"Who is he?" asked Rollo. "Who is William?"
"He is my brother," said Copley; "but that has nothing to do with it."
"Are you under his care?" asked Rollo.
"Why, I am travelling with him," said Copley; "but he has no business on
that account to lord it over me. I have as good a right to have my way
as he has to have his."
Some further conversation then followed between Copley and Rollo, in
which the former said that he had been for several weeks in Rome, in
company with his brother. He had an uncle, too, in town, he said, at
another hotel.
"But I stay with my brother," said Copley, "because he is going to make
a longer journey, and I want to go with him."
"Where is he going?" asked Rollo.
"Why, we have engaged a vetturino," replied Copley, "and are going to
travel slowly to Florence, and from Florence into the northern part of
Italy, to Milan and Venice, and all those places. Then, afterwards, we
shall go over, by some of the passes of the Alps, into Switzerland. I
like to travel in that way, I have so much fun in seeing the towns and
the country. Besides, when we travel with a vetturino, I almost always
ride on the outside seat with him, and he lets me drive sometimes."
"Then your uncle is not going that way?" said Rollo.
"No," replied Copley; "he is going directly home by water. He is going
down to Civita Vecchia, to take the steamer there for Marseilles, and I
don't want to go that way."
Copley then asked Rollo to go out into the Corso with him. He said that
he saw a shop there, as he was coming home, which had a great display of
whips at the window, and he wanted to buy a whip, so that when they set
out on their journey he could have a whip of his own.
"The vetturino never will let me have _his_ whip," said he. "The lash is
so long that he says I shall get it entangled in the harness. That's no
reason, for he is always getting it entangled himself. But that's his
excuse, and so I am going to have a whip of my own."
"Well," said Rollo, "I rather think I will go with you; but you must
wait here for me a minute or two. I must go up to my room first; but I
will come directly down again."
Rollo wished to go up to his room to ask his uncle's permission to go
with Copley. He made it an invariable rule never to go any where without
his uncle's permission. Mr. George was always ready to give permission
in such cases, unless there was some really good and substantial reason
for withholding it. And whenever Mr. George withheld his consent from
any of Rollo's proposals, Rollo always submitted at once, without making
any difficulty, even when he thought that his uncle was wrong, and that
he might have consented as well as not.
It was not altogether principle on the part of Rollo, that made him
pursue this course; it was in a great measure policy.
"I like travelling about the world with uncle George," he used to say to
himself, "and in order that I may travel with him a great deal, I must
make it for his interest to take me. That is, I must manage so that he
will have a better time when I am with him, than when he goes alone; and
in order to do this, I must take care never to give him any trouble or
concern of any kind on my account. I must comply with his wishes in
every thing, and be satisfied with such pleasures and enjoyments as he
fully approves."
Rollo did not think of this altogether of himself. It was his father
that put the idea into his mind. He did it in a conversation that he had
with Rollo the day before he set out on the journey.
"Rollo, my boy," said he, "in going on this journey into Italy with your
uncle George, there is one danger that you will have to look out for
very carefully."
"Getting robbed by the brigands?" asked Rollo.
"No," said Mr. Holiday; "it is something very different from that, and a
great deal worse. That is to say, the evil that you have to fear from it
is a great deal worse than any thing that would probably happen to you
by being robbed. The danger is of your having too much independence, or,
rather, a wrong kind of independence. What is independence?"
Rollo reflected a moment in order properly to frame his answer to his
father's question. He thought he knew very well what the meaning of the
word _independence_ was, but he did not readily know how to clothe the
meaning in language. At last he said that he thought independence was
doing what you thought was best yourself, without regard to what other
people thought.
"Very well," said his father. "That's a pretty good definition of it.
And now, do you think it is a good quality, or a bad quality?"
"A good quality," said Rollo; "that is, I suppose it is good," he added,
hesitatingly, "but I don't know."
"It depends upon circumstances," said Mr. Holiday. "Should you think
that firing his gun when _he_ thought best, instead of when the
_captain_ thought best, was a good thing in a soldier, on the field of
battle?"
"No, sir," said Rollo.
"And so, would the independence of the colonel of a regiment," continued
Mr. Holiday, "in marching when he thought best, instead of when the
general ordered him, be a good quality or a bad quality?"
"Bad," said Rollo; "very bad indeed."
"Independence is an excellent quality in its own right and proper
sphere," said Mr. Holiday; "but when it takes the form of disregarding
or rebelling against right and proper authority, it is a very bad
quality. It cannot be tolerated. If it were allowed generally to prevail
among mankind, the whole world would be thrown into confusion, and
nothing could go on. This is now the kind of independence that you must
guard against. You are growing up rapidly, and increasing in strength
and knowledge every day. You are becoming a young man, and in a great
many of the situations in which you are placed, you are fully competent
to take care of yourself. Still you are what the law calls a minor. That
is, you have not arrived at an age when you can safely be your own
master, and support and take care of yourself. Consequently, the law
makes it your father's duty, for some years to come, to furnish money
for your support, and to provide for you all necessary protection. And
the same law makes it your duty to be under my direction, to conform
your conduct to my judgment; or, in other words, to do, not as _you_
think best, but as I, or whomsoever I may delegate to act in my stead,
thinks best. This is reasonable. As long as a boy depends upon his
father for the means of his support, it is right that he should act as
his father's judgment dictates. It will be time enough for him to expect
that he should act according to his own judgment, in his conduct, when
he is able to earn his own living, and so release his father from all
responsibility on his account. In a word, the pecuniary responsibility
of the father, and the moral obligation of the son, go together."
"Yes, father," said Rollo; "I think that is all true."
"And now," continued Mr. Holiday, "I put you, for this journey, under
your uncle George's care. I delegate my parental power over you to him.
It is your duty, therefore, to obey him in all things, and to comply
with all his wishes, just as you would if I were in his place."
"Yes, father," said Rollo, "I will."
"Besides being your duty," added Mr. Holiday, "it is greatly for your
interest to do so. If you begin to show your independence, as it is
sometimes called, and insist on doing what you think is best, instead of
what he thinks is best, so as to cause him trouble, and make him feel
anxious and uneasy on your account, you will spoil the pleasure of his
journey, and he will not wish to take you with him again."
Mr. Holiday had some further conversation with Rollo on the subject, and
the effect of what he said was to lead Rollo to think more than he
otherwise would have done on the proper course which a boy ought to
pursue when travelling under the charge of his uncle, and he resolved
that he would, in all cases, not only obey implicitly his uncle's
commands, but that he would comply readily and cordially with his
wishes, whenever he could ascertain them.
Accordingly, in this case, he would not go even out into the Corso
without first going up to obtain his uncle's permission. He opened the
door of the room, and found his uncle there, writing a letter.
"Uncle George," said he, "here is a boy down below, who asks me to go
out into the Corso with him."
"What boy is it?" asked Mr. George.
"I don't know what his name is," said Rollo. "He is an English boy, I
suppose. He just came in from taking a ride on horseback."
"How long shall you probably be gone?" said Mr. George.
"I don't know," said Rollo, hesitating. "Perhaps about half an hour."
"Very well," said Mr. George; "you can be gone two hours if you choose.
If you form any plan that will require more time than that, come home
first and let me know."
So Rollo went down stairs again, and having joined Copley at the door,
they went together out towards the Corso.
In the mean time, Copley's brother William and his wife were waiting in
their room for Copley to come up. They knew at what hour he would return
from his ride, and they had formed a plan for going in a carriage out
upon the Appian Way, to see some ancient ruins there. They knew very
well that Copley would not care any thing about the ruins, but he always
liked to go with them when they took drives in the environs of Rome. The
special reason why Copley was so much interested in going on these
excursions was, that he was accustomed, in such cases, to sit on the
front seat with the coachman, as he did when travelling with the
vetturins, and sometimes he obtained permission to drive a little, by
secretly offering the coachman a piece of money. Mr. William had charged
his brother to come up to the parlor as soon as he came home from his
ride, and Copley ought to have done so. But it was never Copley's
practice to pay much heed to requests of this kind from his brother.
Mr. William, having waited for some time after he had seen the two
horses arrive at the door, wondering all the time why Copley did not
come up, went down to the door to inquire what had become of him. The
concierge informed him that Copley had gone away with another boy, out
to the Corso. So Mr. William ordered the carriage, and he and his wife
went away on their excursion alone.
Rollo and Copley had a very pleasant walk along the Corso. They were
obliged, however, to walk in the middle of the street, for the
sidewalks were so narrow and so irregular in shape, sometimes growing
narrower and narrower, until at length there was scarcely any thing but
the curb-stone left, that Rollo and Copley could not walk upon them.
At last, however, they came to the place where Copley had seen the
whips. Copley had plenty of money, but I do not know how he would have
managed to buy one of the whips, if Rollo had not been with him; for the
man who had them to sell could only speak French and Italian, and Copley
did not know either of these languages. He had been studying French, it
is true, for several years in school, but he had taken no interest in
learning the language, and the little knowledge of it which he had
acquired was not of such a character as to be of any use to him. As to
the Italian, he knew nothing at all of it.
Accordingly, Rollo acted as interpreter.
"I might have brought our courier with us," said Copley, "only it is
such a bore to have him about; and you do just as well."
After having bought the whip, Copley proposed that they should go to the
diligence office and see if there were any diligences there about
setting out on their journeys. The diligence office which Copley
referred to was not in the Corso, but in another street, at right angles
to it. When the boys reached the office, they found that there were no
diligences there; so they rambled on without much idea of where they
were going, until at length they came to the river, near one of the
bridges leading across it. A short distance below the bridge, there was
a small steamboat coming up the river.
"Ah, look there!" said Copley. "There's a steamer coming! Where do you
suppose that steamer is coming from?"
"It is coming from Ostia, I suppose," said Rollo. "At any rate, I know
that there is a steamer that goes to Ostia."
"Let us go there," said Copley. "Where is Ostia?"
"It is at the mouth of the river," said Rollo. "You may know that from
the name. _Ostia_ is the Latin word for _mouth_."
"I hate Latin," said Copley.
The little steamer came rounding up to a pier not far below the bridge.
Copley and Rollo leaned over the parapet, and looked to see the
passengers get out; but there were very few passengers to come. The boys
then went down towards the pier, and on inquiring of a gentleman whom
they saw there, they found that the boat went down the river to Ostia
every morning, and returned every night, and Copley immediately
conceived the idea of going down in her.
"Let's go down to-morrow," said he. "It is just far enough for a
pleasant sail."
Rollo's imagination was quite taken with the idea of sailing down to
Ostia. There seems to be something specially attractive to boys in the
idea of sailing down to the mouths of rivers. It is so pleasant to watch
the gradual widening of the stream, and to meet vessels coming up, and
to see the fishermen's boats, and the nets spread on the land, and the
little inlets, with the tide flowing in and out, and other indications
of the approach towards the sea. Besides, Rollo wished very much to see
what sort of a place Ostia was.
However, he would not positively promise to go. He said he should like
to go very much, but that he could not decide the question until he
should go home.
"I must see uncle George first," said Rollo. "It is possible that he may
have formed some engagement for me to-morrow."
"O, never mind what engagement he has formed," said Copley. "Tell him
that you can't go with him, because you have agreed to go down the river
with me."
"No," said Rollo, shaking his head.
"Why, what a little fool you are!" said Copley.
After remaining some time on the bridge, looking at the steamer, the
boys returned home. Rollo took care to arrive at the hotel before the
two hours were expired. Mr. George had just finished his letter, and was
folding it up and sealing it.
"Well, Rollo," said Mr. George, "have you had a pleasant walk?"
"Very pleasant, indeed," said Rollo. "We walked in the Corso till Copley
had bought his whip, and then we went on till we came to the bridge, and
there we saw a steamboat which goes to Ostia and back. Copley wants me
to go down with him in her to-morrow. We shall get back about this time,
I suppose."
Mr. George was at this time just writing the address on the back of his
letter. He did not say any thing, but Rollo observed a very slight and
almost imperceptible shaking of his head.
"You don't like the plan very well, uncle George," said Rollo.
"Not very well," said Mr. George. "I feel a little afraid of it."
"Then it is of no consequence," said Rollo. "I don't care a great deal
about going."
Most boys, perhaps, under these circumstances, would have asked why, in
order that, after hearing their uncle's objections to their plans, they
might argue against them. But Rollo knew very well that this would be
very bad policy for him.
"If uncle George finds that he has a long argument to maintain against
me, every time that he refuses me any thing," said he to himself, "he
will soon get tired of having me under his care."
So he acquiesced at once in what he perceived was his uncle's opinion,
and resolved to tell Copley, when he saw him, that he could not go to
Ostia.
Copley was to have called that evening at Rollo's room, to obtain his
answer; but on further reflection, he concluded not to do so.
Indeed, he had a secret feeling that neither Rollo's uncle nor his own
brother would approve of the plan of two such boys going alone, in such
a country, on an expedition which was entirely outside of the usual
range of tourists and travellers. That this expedition _was_ outside the
range was evident from the character of the steamboat that the boys had
seen, which was evidently not intended for the conveyance of ladies and
gentlemen, but of people of the country--and those, moreover, of the
lowest class.
So Copley concluded that if he were to go at all to Ostia, it would be
necessary for him to go by stealth, and he resolved not to say any
thing about his plan to his brother or sister. He was very sure, too,
that Rollo would fail of obtaining his uncle's consent. So he concluded
to say no more to Rollo on the subject, but instead of that, he proposed
the plan to another boy of his acquaintance, who lodged with his friends
at another hotel.
"The best way will be," said he, when he made the proposal, "for us not
to tell any body where we are going."
"Then they'll wonder where we are," said the boy, "and be frightened
half to death about us."
"But we can leave word when we go, with the porter of the hotel, or the
concierge," said Copley, "that we have gone down the river in the
steamboat, and shall not be back till night."
"Good," said the other boy; "that's what we'll do."
Accordingly, the next morning, the two boys left word at their
respective hotels where they were going, and set forth. They stole away
very secretly, and after running round the corner, they crept along
close to the wall of the hotel, until they thought they were at a safe
distance. They reached the boat in good season, went on board, and in
due time set sail.
About ten o'clock, when the two boys had been gone about an hour, Mr.
William began to miss his brother, and to wonder where he had gone. So
he rang the bell, and his courier came into the room.
"Pacifico," said Mr. William, "do you know where Copley is?"
"No, sir," said Pacifico; "I did not see him from since it was nine
o'clock."
"Go down below," said Mr. William, "and inquire of the concierge and the
porters if they have seen him, or know where he is."
Mr. William followed Pacifico as he went out, in order to speak a moment
to a friend of his who occupied the next apartment. As he came back he
met Pacifico at the head of the stairs, and received his answer there.
The answer was, that Copley had gone down the river to Ostia with
another boy.
Mr. William was greatly astonished to hear this. He, however, said
nothing to Pacifico, but after pausing a moment, as if reflecting upon
what he had heard, he went back into his own apartment.
"Maria," said he, addressing his young wife, "where do you think Copley
has gone?"
"I cannot imagine," said Maria.
"He has gone down the Tiber in the steamer to Ostia," replied Mr.
William.
"Is it possible?" exclaimed Maria, in astonishment.
"Yes," said William; "and I am very glad of it."
"Glad of it?" repeated Maria, surprised more and more.
"Yes," said Mr. William; "for it decides me what to do. I shall send him
home with his uncle. I have been half inclined to do this for some time,
and this settles the question. It destroys all the peace and comfort of
our journey to have a boy with us that is determined to have his own
way, without regard to the inconvenience or anxiety that he occasions
me."
"But how will you manage to get him to go with his uncle?" said Maria.
"He will refuse to go, and insist on accompanying us, for his uncle is
going directly home, which is what he does not wish to do."
"I'll manage that," said Mr. William. "I'll take a hint from his own way
of proceeding. I will go off and leave him."
"O husband," said Maria, "that will never do."
"You'll see how I will manage it," said Mr. William.
So saying, Mr. William rang the bell. Pacifico immediately appeared.
"I wish to write a letter," said Mr. William. "Bring me some paper, and
pen and ink."
Pacifico brought the writing materials, and laid them on the table.
"I have concluded to leave town this afternoon," said Mr. William, as he
took up the pen and began to make preparations to write. "I intend to go
as far as Civita Castellana to-night. We will set out at two o'clock. I
wish you to go and find our vetturino, and direct him to be here half an
hour before that time with the carriage, to load the baggage. He knows
that we were going soon, and he will be prepared. In the mean time you
may get our baggage ready. Copley's trunk, however, is not to go. Pack
that, and send it by a porter over to the Hotel d'Amerique. I am going
to leave him there under the care of his uncle."
"Very well, sir," said Pacifico; "I shall do it."
Pacifico retired, and Mr. William proceeded to write his letter. When it
was finished, he read it to his wife, as follows. It was addressed to
his father in England.
"ROME, June 20, 1858.
"DEAR FATHER: We are all well, and, on the whole, have enjoyed our
residence in Rome very much. We are now, however, about ready to leave.
We set off this afternoon for Florence and the north of Italy.
"I have concluded, all things considered, to let Copley return to you
with his uncle. Though a pretty good boy in other respects, he does not
seem to be quite willing enough to submit to my direction, to make it
pleasant for me, or safe for him, that we should travel together. I will
not say that it is his _fault_ altogether. It is perhaps because there
is not difference enough in our ages for him to feel that I ought to
have any authority over him. At any rate, he is unwilling to acknowledge
my authority, and he takes so many liberties that I am kept in a
constant state of anxiety on his account. Besides, I do not think that
it is safe for him to be so much at his own disposal. This country is
full of thieves, brigands, and rogues, of the most desperate and
reckless character; and young men sometimes suffer extremely in falling
into their hands. Copley is not aware of the danger, and he thinks that
the restraints which I feel compelled to impose upon him are unnecessary
and vexatious. Often he will not submit to them. To-day, he has gone
down the river on board one of the country steamers, without saying any
thing to me about it; and, though I do not suppose he will get into any
difficulty, in making such an excursion, still the fact that he takes
the liberty of doing such things keeps me continually uneasy about him,
and there is danger that, sooner or later, he will get into some serious
trouble.
"I have, accordingly, concluded to leave him under uncle's charge, with
a view of having him return with uncle to England, by way of the
Mediterranean. Uncle will leave here in a few days, and you may
accordingly expect to see Copley at home again in the course of a week
after receiving this.
"With love from Maria and myself for all at home, I am your dutiful son,
"WILLIAM GRANT."
Mr. William sealed his letter, and then took it down to the "bureau," as
the hotel office is called, where he left it with the secretary of the
hotel, to be sent to the post office.
He then went out at the front door of the hotel to the public square
before it, and there taking a carriage, he ordered the coachman to drive
to the Hotel d'Amerique. When arrived there, he went to his uncle's
apartment, and explained the plan which he had formed, and the reason
for it. His uncle said that he would very readily take Copley under his
charge. Mr. William then said that he was intending to leave town that
day, but he should leave Thomas at his hotel to wait for Copley, and
bring him over to the Hotel d'Amerique as soon as he returned.
This arrangement was carried into effect. Mr. William directed Thomas to
remain in town, to take care of Copley on his return from Ostia, and
deliver him safely into his uncle's hands. It occasioned Mr. William no
inconvenience to leave Thomas behind for a day, since, though Thomas
usually travelled in the same carriage with the family, the vetturino
himself always drove. Thomas, together with Pacifico, the courier, rode
on an outside seat in front, while Copley sometimes rode inside, though
more frequently on the driver's seat, by the side of the vetturino.
"Thomas," said Mr. Grant, in giving Thomas his instructions, "I am going
to set out on my journey this afternoon, but I shall leave you behind,
to come on to-night by the diligence. You will find me at the Hotel of
the Post, at Civita Castellana. I wish you to wait here until Copley
comes home, and then tell him that I have gone out of town, and shall
not be back to-night, and that he is going to spend the night at the
Hotel d'Amerique with his uncle. Do not tell him where I have gone, nor
that you are coming after me. His uncle will tell him all to-morrow
morning."
In the mean time, while these occurrences had been taking place at the
hotel, Copley and his companion had been sailing down the river on board
the little steamboat. They had, on the whole, a pretty pleasant time,
though they were somewhat disappointed in the scenery on the banks of
the river. The country was perfectly bare of trees, and destitute of all
cultivation. There were no villages, and scarcely a human habitation to
be seen. The boys, however, met with no trouble, and returned safely
home about four o'clock.
Copley found Thomas waiting for him at the hotel door.
"Mr. Copley," said Thomas, as Copley advanced towards the door, "your
brother has gone out of town, and will not be back to-night, and I was
to wait here for you, and tell you that you were to go and spend the
night at your uncle's apartment at the Hotel d'Amerique."
"Good!" said Copley. He felt quite relieved to find that his brother had
gone away, as he thus escaped the danger of being called to account for
his misdemeanor.
"Where has he gone?" asked Copley.
"I can't say," said Thomas; "but perhaps your uncle can tell you."
By the phrase "I can't say," Thomas secretly meant that he was not at
liberty to say, though Copley understood him to mean that he did not
know.
"Very well," said Copley; "I don't care where he has gone. It makes no
difference to me."
Copley found that it did make some difference to him, when he learned,
the next morning, that his brother had set out on his journey to the
north of Italy, and to Switzerland, and had left him behind to return
home at once with his uncle by sea. His uncle did not tell him that
night where his brother had gone, for fear that Copley might make some
difficulty, by insisting on going on after him in the diligence with
Thomas. Accordingly, when Copley asked the question, his uncle only
answered vaguely, that his brother had gone out somewhere into the
environs of Rome. The next morning, however, he handed Copley a note
which his brother had left for him, which note Copley, on opening it,
found to be as follows:--
"WEDNESDAY MORNING.
"DEAR COPLEY: I have concluded to set out this afternoon on my journey
north. I am sorry that you are not here to bid me good by. I did not
know that you were going down the river.
"It must be hard for a boy as old as you to be under the command of one
who is, after all, only his brother,--and not a great many years older
than he is himself,--for I am not quite ten years older than you. I know
you have found this hard, and so I have concluded that you had better
return home with uncle. One of these days, when you grow up to manhood,
you can make a journey into Italy again, and then you will be your own
master, and can do as you please, without any danger. Wishing you a very
pleasant voyage,
"I am your affectionate brother,
"WILLIAM GRANT."
Copley's indignation and rage at reading this letter seemed at first to
know no bounds. He was, however, entirely helpless. His brother had
gone, and he did not even know what road he had taken. Thomas had gone,
too, so that there was no help for him whatever.
In two days after that, he went with his uncle to Civita Vecchia, the
port of Rome, on the Mediterranean, and there embarked on board the
steamer "for Marseilles direct," and so returned to England.
CHAPTER X.
THE VATICAN.
On the day when Rollo went with Charles and Allie to see the Tarpeian
Rock, the reader will perhaps recollect that Mr. George was engaged at
the reading room in reading the American papers which had that morning
arrived. When Rollo returned from his excursion, he found that Mr.
George had not got home, and he accordingly concluded to go to the
reading room and see if he could find him.
This reading room is attached to an English bookstore and library, and
is a great place of resort for visitors at Rome. It is situated at the
end of the Piazza di Spagna, which is one of the principal and most
frequented public squares in Rome. This square contains several of the
chief hotels, and a great many shops. The bookstore of Piale is the
general centre of news and intelligence for all English and American
visitors. Here people come to make inquiries for their friends, for
there is a register kept at the library with the names of all the
English and American visitors in Rome recorded in it, and the addresses
of the hotels or private houses where they are lodging. Here all sorts
of notices are posted up, such as advertisements of things lost or
found, of parties forming for excursions, of couriers wanting places or
families wanting couriers, of paintings for sale, carriages for sale or
for hire,--and all such things.
Piale's establishment contains a number of different rooms. The first
that Rollo entered on arriving at the place was the bookstore. This was
a small room. There was a desk at one end, where a clerk was sitting.
There were shelves filled with books all around the room, and a large
table in the centre, which was also covered with books arranged in tiers
one above the other in a sloping direction. There were several doors
leading off from this apartment, one of which led to a room where a
circulating library was kept, and another to the reading room.
When Rollo entered the bookstore, he saw several groups of visitors
there. There were two or three ladies looking over the books on the
shelves. There was a group of gentlemen standing near the desk, talking
together, with a paper in their hands which seemed to contain a list of
names. Just as Rollo entered, a carriage drove up to the door, and two
ladies dismounted from it and came in. Rollo's attention was first
attracted to these two ladies. One of them, on entering, accosted the
clerk, and asked to look at the register. The clerk immediately gave the
two ladies seats at a side table, where there was a large book full of
names and addresses. The ladies sat down, and began to look over the
book. They had just arrived from Naples, and they wished to know what
friends and acquaintances of theirs there were in town.
Rollo began to examine the books on the table, or counter, in the middle
of the room, and while doing so he happened to pass near the gentlemen
that were looking at the paper.
"We want twelve," said one of the gentlemen, "and we have got only
nine."
"Yes," said the other, "we want three more. It must be that there are a
great many in town who would like to go, if we could only find them
out."
Rollo's attention was immediately arrested by these words. It was
obvious that the gentlemen were forming a party to go somewhere, or to
see something, and he felt quite confident that his uncle George would
like to join them.
"At any rate," said he to himself, "_I_ should like to go, wherever it
is."
So Rollo summoned courage to accost the persons who were consulting
together, and to ask them if they wished to find some gentlemen to make
up a party.
"Gentlemen or ladies either," said one of them, "no matter which. We are
making up a party to go and see the statues in the Vatican by torch
light."
When Rollo heard the words "torch light," his interest in the proposed
party was greatly increased, and he said he had no doubt that his uncle
would like to go.
"I am very sure he would like to go," said Rollo, "and to take me."
"Very well," said one of the gentlemen, "that will make two. And we only
want three. Where is your uncle?"
"He is in the reading room," said Rollo. "Wait a moment, and I'll call
him."
"That's right," said the gentleman. "Tell him it will cost us a scudo
and a half apiece."
So Rollo, taking out half a paul from his pocket,--that being the price
of admission to the reading room for a single day,--and giving it to the
clerk at the desk, opened a door by the side of the desk, and passed
into the reading room. Instead of being only one reading room, however,
he found that there were two, with an open door leading from one to the
other. There were a great number of very comfortable sofas and arm
chairs all about these rooms, and great tables in the middle of them
covered with newspapers and magazines. The walls of both rooms were
completely covered with paintings of all sizes, most of which had been
left there for sale. There were a great many gentlemen sitting around
the tables and upon the sofas, reading. Among them Rollo soon found Mr.
George. He had established himself in a comfortable arm chair, near a
great window that looked out upon the square. But he was obliged to keep
the curtain down, on account of the beggars outside, that gave him no
peace as long as they could see him.
"Uncle George," said Rollo, "here are some gentlemen who want to make up
a party to go and see something by torch light, and I thought that
perhaps you and I would like to join it."
"Where is it that they are going?" asked Mr. George--"to the Vatican?"
"Yes," said Rollo, "it is the Vatican. A scudo and a half apiece."
"Very well," said Mr. George. "I should like to go. Where are the
gentlemen?"
"They are out here in the bookstore. Come out and I will show them to
you."
So Mr. George laid down his paper, and followed Rollo out into the
bookstore. Rollo led the way to the place where the gentlemen were
standing, and then introduced his uncle, in a distinct and audible
voice, thus,--
"This is my uncle, gentlemen, Mr. George Holiday."
The gentlemen greeted Mr. Holiday in a very polite manner, and informed
him of their plan, and that they wanted three more names to make up the
necessary number for a party.
And here I ought to say in explanation, that what is called the
"Vatican" is a vast collection of very magnificent and imposing
buildings,--consisting of palaces, chapels, halls, galleries, and the
like, almost without number,--and it is filled with paintings,
sculptures, manuscripts, books, jewels, gems, and other curiosities and
treasures of incalculable value. It is situated in close proximity to
the great Church of St. Peter's--the largest and most gorgeous church in
the world. Indeed, the church and the palaces form, as it were, one vast
architectural pile, which is of almost inconceivable magnificence and
grandeur.
The various edifices which compose the Vatican were several centuries in
building, and the immense magnitude and extent of the edifice, and the
exhaustless wealth of the treasures of art deposited there, astonish
every beholder. The buildings are so extensive that they require eight
grand staircases and two hundred smaller ones to gain access to the
different stories. There are twenty open courts and over four thousand
different rooms. Some of these rooms are galleries nearly a quarter of a
mile long, and are filled on each side with sculptures and statuary, or
other works of art, from end to end. The length of these galleries is
not, however, out of proportion to other parts of the structure. The
church of St. Peter's, including the portico, is considerably _more_
than a quarter of a mile long.
Now, among the treasures of the Vatican are an immense number of ancient
statues which were dug up, in the middle ages, in and around Rome; and
some of these sculptures are the most celebrated works of art in the
world. They are arranged with great care in a great number of beautiful
chambers and halls, and are visited during the daytime by thousands of
people that have come to Rome from every part of the world. The picture
galleries, the collection of ancient curiosities, and the library rooms
containing the books and manuscripts, are also in the same manner thrown
open, and they are thronged with visitors almost all the time. These
apartments are so numerous and so extensive that in one day a person can
do little else than to walk through them, and give one general gaze of
bewildering wonder at the whole scene. And a very long walk it is, I can
assure you. At one time, when I set out from the painting rooms, (which
are far in the interior of the buildings,) with a party of friends,
intending to go out, in order to go home, we walked steadily on at our
ordinary pace, without stopping, or deviating from our way, and we found
that it took us twenty minutes to get out to our carriage!
In addition to these visits made during the day, small parties are
sometimes formed to visit the galleries of statuary by night. It is
found that the illumination of a torch, by the strong contrasts of light
and shade which it produces, brings out the expression of the statues in
a very striking manner, so as to produce sometimes a most wonderful
effect.
It is, however, somewhat expensive to exhibit these statues by torch
light, partly on account of the cost of the torches, and partly on
account of the attendants that are required. The cost is nearly twenty
dollars. It is accordingly customary to make up a party, whenever an
evening visit to the Vatican is proposed, in order to divide the
expense. The number that can see the statues to advantage in these
evening visits is from twelve to fifteen. A party of twelve is
sufficient to pay the expense at the rate of a scudo and a half for
each person.[7]
[Footnote 7: The scudo is the Roman dollar. It is worth considerably
more than the American dollar.]
It was such a plan as this that the gentlemen were forming, whose party
Mr. George and Rollo were now proposing to join.
The gentlemen had been much pleased with Rollo's appearance and demeanor
when he accosted them, and they were now still more pleased, when they
saw Mr. George, to find that he was a young gentleman, of about their
own age, and that he was so prepossessing in his countenance and in his
air and manner. Mr. George readily agreed to join the party. They asked
him if he knew of any body else that he thought would like to go. He
inquired whether there were to be any ladies in the party. They said
that there were to be several. "Then," said Mr. George, "I will be
responsible for the twelfth place. I am quite sure that I can find some
person that would like to go.
"And suppose I find more than one?" said Mr. George.
"That will do no harm," replied the gentlemen. "We can have from twelve
to fifteen in the party."
"Then I will take the three places," said Mr. George, "and I will pay
my proportion now. Which of you gentlemen acts as treasurer?"
One of the three gentlemen said that he had undertaken to collect and
pay over the money, but he added that it was not necessary for Mr.
George to pay at that time. Mr. George, however, preferred to do so, and
he accordingly took out his purse and paid his four scudi and a half,
which was the amount due for three persons. The gentlemen seemed to be
quite pleased to find that their party was thus made up, and they told
Mr. George that since he had taken and paid for the three remaining
places, he might bring with him any number of persons that he pleased,
so long as he did not make the party more than fifteen in all. It was
agreed, too, that the party was to rendezvous that evening, at eight
o'clock, at the foot of the grand staircase, leading from the portico of
St. Peter's up to the principal court of the Vatican.
Mr. George, as soon as he went home, sent Rollo to Mrs. Beekman's room
to inform her of the proposed party, and to ask her if she would like to
join it.
"And may I invite Allie too?" asked Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "and Charles. Though I don't think they will
wish to go, for such children generally feel very little interest in
statues."
It is true that young persons, like Charles and Allie, generally feel
little interest in sculptures and statuary; but, on the other hand, they
feel a very great interest in torch light, and both Charles and Allie
were exceedingly eager to join the party. It was finally agreed that all
three should go. It was arranged that Mr. George and Rollo were to call
for them at seven o'clock. Mr. Beekman was engaged to dine that evening
with a party of gentlemen, and so he was left out of the account
altogether.
At seven o'clock, accordingly, Mr. George and Rollo called at Mrs.
Beekman's rooms, and a few minutes afterwards they all went together
down to the door of the hotel, where Mr. George beckoned to the coachman
of one of the carriages that stood in the square.
The whole party entered the carriage, after Mr. George had made his
bargain with the coachman, and immediately set off. They rode for some
distance along a pretty straight road, and then came to a bridge, which
was opposite to a great round castle. They went over this bridge, and
then turning to the left, under the walls of the castle, they went on
towards the Vatican.
"We shall arrive there some time before the hour," said Mr. George; "but
I thought it was better to be too early than too late."
"Yes," replied Mrs. Beekman, "we can amuse ourselves half an hour in
rambling about the colonnades and porticos of St. Peter's."
In front of St. Peter's there is an immense area, enclosed on each side
by a magnificent semicircular colonnade. There are four rows of lofty
columns in this colonnade, with a carriage way in the centre between
them. The space enclosed between these colonnades is called the
_piazza_,[A] and it is adorned with fountains and colossal statues, and
on days of public festivities and celebrations, it is filled with an
immense concourse of people. It is large enough to contain a great many
thousands.
[8][Footnote 8: A Pronounced _piatza_.]
When Mr. George and his party arrived, they dismissed the carriage and
began to walk to and fro under the colonnade and about the piazza. The
time passed away very rapidly; and at length, a few minutes before
eight, the other carriages began to come. All the persons who belonged
to the party were anxious to arrive in time, for they were afraid that,
if they were too late, the others would have gone into the Vatican,
where, the building being so immense, it might be very difficult to find
them.
Accordingly, before the clock struck eight, all the party were assembled
at the entrance door.
The entrance opened from a vast covered gallery, which formed one of the
approaches to St. Peter's, between the end of the colonnade and the main
front of the building. There were several Swiss sentinels on guard here.
They were dressed in what seemed to Rollo a very fantastic garb. In a
few minutes the men who were to accompany the party through the
galleries appeared. One of them carried a great number of very long
candles under his arm. Another had a long pole with a socket at the top
of it, and a semicircular screen of tin on one side, to screen the light
of the candles from the eyes of the visitors, and to throw it upon the
statues. When all was ready, these torch bearers moved on, and were
followed by the whole party up the great staircase which led to the
galleries of the Vatican.
After going upward and onward for some time, they came at length to the
entrance of one of the long galleries of sculpture. Here the torch
bearers stopped and began to prepare their torches. They cut the long
candles in two, so as to make pieces about eighteen inches long. Taking
six or eight of these pieces, they placed them together like a bundle of
sticks, and tied them, and then crowded the ends together into the
socket upon the end of the pole. This socket was made large enough to
receive them. They then lighted the wicks, and thus they had a large
number of candles all burning together as one.
The screen, which I have already spoken of, covered this blaze of light
upon one side, so as to keep it from shining upon the faces of the
company.
Thus provided the torch bearers went on, and the company followed them.
Of course, there is only time in the two hours usually appropriated to
this exhibition to show a comparatively small number of the statues. The
torch bearers accordingly selected such as they thought were most
important to be seen, and they passed rapidly on from one to another of
these, omitting all the others. When they approached a statue which they
were going to exhibit, they would hold the torch up near the face of it
in such a manner as to throw a strong light upon the features, and so
bring out the expression in a striking manner. The screen shielded the
eyes of the company from the direct rays of the flame, and yet there was
sufficient light reflected from the marble walls of the gallery, and
from the beautiful white surfaces of the statues arranged along them, to
enable the company to discern each other very distinctly, and to see all
the objects around them.
The company passed in this manner through one of the long galleries,
stopping here and there to look at the great masterpieces of ancient
art, and then they entered into a series of comparatively smaller
chambers and halls. Rollo was exceedingly interested in the exhibition,
and in all the attendant circumstances of it; but he could not tell
whether Allie was pleased or not. She seemed bewildered and struck dumb
with amazement at the strange aspect of the scenes and spectacles which
were continually presented to view. The immense extent and the gorgeous
magnificence of the galleries and halls, the countless multitude of
statues, and the almost spectral appearance which they assumed when the
torch bearers threw the bright light of the torch upon their cold marble
faces, all impressed her with a solemn awe, which seemed so entirely to
subdue and silence her, that Rollo could not tell how she felt, or what
she thought of the strange spectacle which he had brought her to see.
After about an hour, the first set of candles that had been put into the
socket of the torch pole were burned down, and then the torch bearers
supplied their places with another set formed by the remaining halves of
the candles which they had cut in two. These lasted another hour. By
that time the company had seen all the most striking and celebrated
statues in the principal halls and galleries. They had been making a
sort of circuit through the palace in passing through these rooms, and
now came out very near the entrance door, where they had come in. Here
the torch bearers left them, and went away with their apparatus to the
part of the building where they belonged, while the company, descending
the grand staircase, came out into one of the porticos of the church,
and issuing from the portico they found carriages in waiting upon the
piazza, and ready to convey them home. Mr. George and his party reached
their hotel about nine o'clock, all very much pleased with the spectacle
which they had witnessed.
CHAPTER XI.
CONCLUSION.
Rollo was so much pleased with his torch light visit to the Vatican, and
he found, moreover, on talking with Charles and Allie about it the next
day, so much evidence of their having been greatly pleased with it, that
he planned, a few days afterwards, a torch light visit to the Coliseum.
It is very common to make moonlight visits to the Coliseum, but Rollo
thought a torch light view of the majestic old ruin would be better. On
proposing his plan to his uncle, Mr. George said that he had no
objection to it if Rollo would make all the arrangements. He did not
know any thing about it himself, he said.
Rollo said he had no doubt that he could arrange it, with the help of a
commissioner.
[Illustration: COLISEUM BY TORCHLIGHT.]
So Rollo looked out a good commissioner, and the commissioner arranged
the plan. I have not space to describe this visit fully, but must pass
on to the conclusion of the book. I will only say that the torches which
were employed on this occasion, were different from those employed in
the exhibition of the statues in the Vatican, being more like those used
by firemen in America. There were also more of them in number, the
commissioner having provided four. With these torch bearers to light
their way, Rollo's party explored the Coliseum in every part, and they
found that the grandeur and sublimity of the immense corridors and vast
vaulted passages of the ruin were greatly enhanced by the solemnity of
the night, and by the flickering glare of the torches, shining upon the
massive piers, and into the dark recesses of the ruin.
I do not know how many more torch light visits to wonderful places in
Rome Rollo would have planned, had not the time arrived when Mr. George
thought it was necessary for them to go back to France.
"It is getting late in the season," said Mr. George, "and every body is
leaving Rome. I don't think it is safe for us to remain much longer here
ourselves, on account of the fever."
Rome is extremely unhealthy in the summer months; and in the environs
there is a very wide tract of country which is almost entirely
uninhabitable all the year round, on account of the prevalence of fever.
"Very well," said Rollo, "we will go whenever you please."
"We must take our places in the steamer and in the diligences several
days beforehand," said Mr. George. "We will go to the steamboat office
to-day."
There are several lines of steamers that go from Rome to Marseilles,
which is the port of landing for travellers going to France and England.
Some of these steamers go "direct" across the sea, while others coast
along the shore, sailing at night, and stopping during the day at the
large towns on the route. The first night they go to Leghorn, the second
to Genoa, and the third to Marseilles. At first Mr. George thought that
he would take one of these coasting steamers; but he finally concluded
to go "direct."
"It would be very pleasant," said he to Rollo, "for us to stop at those
towns, and ramble about during the day, and then in the evening set sail
again, provided we could be at liberty to land at our pleasure, to
ramble about unmolested wherever we wished to go, as we can do in
America."
"And can't we do so?" asked Rollo.
"No," said Mr. George. "In the first place we must have our passports
stamped here for all the places that we wish to visit, and that will
cause us here a great deal of trouble, and not a little expense. Then to
land we must have our passports all examined again, and stamped, and
there will be more money to pay; and likely as not we should be detained
half the morning in getting through all these formalities, and so our
time would be passed in fruitless vexation instead of pleasure. Then,
when at last we were free, and began our rambles, we should be beset by
beggars every where, and have no peace."
"What a foolish plan it is to plague travellers so much with all these
ceremonies about passports!" said Rollo.
"I am not certain that it is foolish for such governments as these,"
replied Mr. George. "You see, they are governments of force, maintained
over the people against their will, by means of military power. The
people at large hate the government, and are all the time plotting to
destroy it; and if the plotters were allowed to go freely to and fro all
over the country, they would be able to organize their plans, and
general insurrections would be arranged, and the governments might thus
be overthrown. By allowing nobody to travel without a passport, stating
who he is, and where he came from, and where he is going, the government
keep every thing under their control."
"But I think the governments _ought_ to be overthrown," said Rollo, "and
better governments, such as the people would like, set up in their
places."
"So do I," said Mr. George; "but it is not surprising that the governors
themselves of these countries don't think so. They wish to retain their
stations and their power, whether the people like it or not; and the
passport system is a very cunning contrivance to help them do it. And
then, besides, they have a very good pretext for keeping up the system."
"What is their pretext?" asked Rollo.
"They pretend that the object is to assist them in stopping and
arresting robbers, and murderers, and other criminals who attempt to
escape from one part of the country to another after committing their
crimes. And the system is sometimes useful in this way, I have no doubt;
though these criminals can often elude the authorities by procuring
false passports."
"And the plotters against the government, too, I suppose," said Rollo.
"Yes," said Mr. George, "sometimes."
This conversation took place while Mr. George and Rollo were walking
towards the steamboat office, to take their passages to Marseilles.
They arrived at the office. The clerk answered their inquiries in
respect to the steamer with great politeness. The conversation was in
the French language. He told them that the steamer started from Naples
every evening, and that it stopped in the morning about eight o'clock
at Civita Vecchia[9] to take in the passengers from Rome. It was
necessary for the passengers to go from Rome to Civita Vecchia by
diligence, or by post, or with a vetturino.
[Footnote 9: Pronounced _Tchivita Vekkia_.]
"Then there are no carriages from your office," said Mr. George.
"No, sir," replied the clerk. "We take the passengers at Civita Vecchia.
They find their own conveyances there."
"Very well," said Mr. George. "I will take two berths in the steamer for
Thursday morning. Can I see a plan of the steamer so as to select the
berths?"
"No, sir," said the clerk, "we have no plan of the steamer. And besides,
we cannot positively promise you any berths. It depends upon how many
passengers there are from Naples. The passengers from Rome take the
berths that are left vacant. They take them in the order in which they
take passage here."
"Are there many that have taken passage before us?" asked Mr. George.
"No, sir," said the clerk, "only two. Your numbers are 3 and 4."
"Then, if there are more than two berths that are not occupied by the
Naples passengers, we can have them?"
"Yes, sir," said the clerk.
"And suppose there are not more than two," asked Rollo, "what shall we
do then?"
"Why, then you will have sofas or cots," said the clerk.
"O, that will do just as well," said Rollo. "I would as lief have a sofa
or a cot as a berth."
So Mr. George paid the money, and took tickets numbers 3 and 4, and
then, having inquired the way to the diligence office, they bade the
clerk good morning, and went away.
"And now," said Mr. George, "we must go directly to the diligence
office, and secure our places for Civita Vecchia. If we put it off, the
places might all be taken, and then we should lose the passage money we
have paid for the steamer."
"Would not they pay us back again?" asked Rollo.
"I am afraid not," said Mr. George. "But I think we are in season, for
it is now Tuesday, and we do not sail till Thursday."
On entering the diligence office, Mr. George saw one or two clerks
standing behind a counter. They seemed busy talking with persons who had
come in to engage places, and entering their names in great books. As
soon as one of the clerks was at liberty Mr. George accosted him, saying
that he wished to get two places in the diligence for Civita Vecchia on
Wednesday.
The clerk looked at the book, and said that all the places were taken
for Wednesday, except one.
"That's bad," said Mr. George. "We shall have to go down on Tuesday,
then, and stay a day at Civita Vecchia. Are there any places for
Tuesday?"
The clerk looked, and said that every place for Tuesday was engaged.
"But there is a coach on Wednesday night," he added, "that arrives at
Civita Vecchia in the morning in time for the steamer."
Then turning over to another place in his book, he looked at the list of
names, and then told Mr. George that there was only one vacant place for
Wednesday night.
"Dear me, Rollo!" said Mr. George, "how unfortunate! We ought to have
attended to this business before."
"I'll tell you what we can do," said Rollo. "One of us can go on
Wednesday morning, and the other wait here and come on in the night."
"That is the only thing that we _can_ do," said Mr. George, "unless we
hire a carriage to ourselves, and that would be expensive. Should you
dare to go alone?"
"O, yes, indeed," said Rollo.
"But remember," said Mr. George, "that all the people will be speaking
Italian. You will have to ride among them like a deaf and dumb boy."
"Never mind that," said Rollo. "Deaf and dumb boys get along in
travelling very well. Besides, I am almost sure that there will be
somebody in the diligence that can speak French or English."
"And which would you rather do," asked Mr. George, "go in the morning or
in the evening? If you go in the morning coach, you will have to set out
very early, before it is light, and then stay at Civita Vecchia, in a
strange hotel, alone, all night. If you go in the evening, you can
remain here, where you are acquainted, all day; but then you will have
to ride alone in the night."
"I would rather go in the morning coach," said Rollo.
"Very well," said Mr. George. "That's what we'll do."
This conversation between Mr. George and Rollo had been carried on in
English; but now Mr. George turned to the clerk, and said in French
that he would take the two places that were left, one in the morning
coach and one in the evening coach of Wednesday. The place in the
morning coach was upon the banquette. The one in the evening coach was
in the coupé. Mr. George had scarcely uttered the words by which he
engaged the seats, before two gentlemen came in in a hurried manner to
ask for seats in the diligence for Wednesday. The clerk told them that
the last of them had just been engaged.
When Wednesday morning came, Rollo was awakened by the porter of the
hotel knocking at his door before it was light. He got up, and opened
the door a little way, and took in the candles which the porter handed
to him. Mr. George had intended to get up too, and go with Rollo to the
office; but Rollo particularly desired that he should not do so.
"I have nothing to carry," said he, "but my little valise, and the
porter will go with me to take that, and to see me safe through the
streets. So that it is not at all necessary for you to go, and I would
much rather not have you go."
Mr. George perceived that Rollo felt a pride in taking care of himself
on this occasion, and so he yielded to this request, and remained in his
bed. If he had not been convinced that Rollo would be perfectly safe
under the porter's care, he would of course have insisted on going
himself. Rollo was soon dressed, and then going to his uncle's bedside,
he shook hands with him, and bade him good by.
"I shall be looking out for you at the diligence office in Civita
Vecchia," said he, "when the diligence arrives to-morrow morning."
So saying, he took his candle in one hand and his valise in the other,
and sallied forth into the long corridor of the hotel. He had to walk a
a great distance along this corridor, passing a great many doors, with a
pair of boots or shoes before each of them, before he reached the head
of the staircase. He descended the staircase, and at the bottom of it
found the porter waiting for him. The porter had another candle, which
was upon a table in the hall. He took Rollo's candle, and also the
valise, and then unbolted and unlocked the front door. A sleepy-looking
boy was ready to lock it again, after Rollo and the porter had gone out.
So they sallied forth into the cool morning air. There were lamps
burning in the streets, and in one direction, where there was an opening
among the buildings, Rollo could see some faint signs of the dawn in the
eastern sky.
The porter could only speak Italian; so he and Rollo walked along
together in silence through the solitary streets. They soon arrived at
the diligence office, where there was a bright light of lanterns, and a
bustle of people coming and going, and of postilions bringing out
horses. The diligence was all ready before the door. The baggage, which
had been brought for the purpose the night before, was all loaded. Rollo
paid the porter, and then climbed up to his place on the banquette. The
horses were soon harnessed in, and the diligence set off; but there were
several stoppages necessary at police stations and passport offices
before the journey was fairly commenced, so that the sun was rising when
Rollo took his final leave of Rome.
He had a very pleasant journey across the country, and arrived at Civita
Vecchia about three o'clock. As he descended from the coach, a
pleasant-looking man, in a sort of official costume, accosted him,
asking him if he was going to Leghorn in the steamer that afternoon. The
man spoke in English, though with a foreign accent.
"No," said Rollo; "I am going to Marseilles to-morrow morning."
"Ah! Then you go to the hotel," said the man. "This porter will take
your valise, and show you the way."
So saying, the man, who was a commissioner of the hotel, put Rollo
under the charge of a porter, who conducted him to a large and very
substantial-looking hotel near by. Rollo ascended by a flight of stone
stairs into the second story of the hotel, and there engaged a room for
the night, and ordered dinner. He had a very good dinner, all by
himself, in a great dining room with long tables in it, where there were
at the same time several other persons and parties dining. After dinner
he went out to ramble about the town. He was surprised at the massive
masonry of the piers, and breakwaters, and forts, that lined the shores,
and at the number of vessels and steamers in the basin. He returned to
the hotel in good season, and amused himself there till nine o'clock
observing the different parties of travellers that were continually
coming and going.
The next morning he watched for the diligence from a piazza on the
second story of the hotel--the diligence office being at the next door.
The diligence arrived at the proper time, and Rollo called out to his
uncle George when he saw him getting out from the coupé. This was at
seven o'clock; at eight Mr. George and Rollo embarked, with a great many
others, in a small boat, to go on board the steamer, and at half past
eight the paddles of the steamer began to revolve, and to bear them
rapidly away from the shores of Italy out over the blue waters of the
Mediterranean, on the route to Marseilles.
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