THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME
It was very early in the morning when the train pulled into the station
at Rome. Patty had been up and dressed for some time, watching from the
window the strange views and novel sights.
“Here we are,” said Mr. Fairfield, and Patty hurried from the train in
her eager interest to see the real Rome outside of a map or guidebook.
“Well!” she said, as she found herself in a great station, not so very
unlike railroad stations in other countries, “Well! if you call this
picturesque, I don’t!”
“Nothing can be picturesque when you’re hungry,” said Nan, “and I’m
going to get my breakfast before I express my opinion of the Eternal
City.”
“Good girl, Nan!” said Mr. Fairfield, approvingly. “And I fancy Patty,
too, is ready for some Roman breakfast food.”
“I am hungry,” said Patty, “but I’m so surprised at this place! Why!”
she went on, as they emerged into the great square in front of the
station, “look at the trolley-cars! It’s just like New York!”
“You needn’t get in a trolley-car,” said Mr. Fairfield, laughing at
Patty’s dismayed expression; “here’s the omnibus that’s to take us to
our hotel. Hop in.”
“Pooh! an omnibus!” said Patty, “that isn’t appropriate to Rome,
either!”
“I know what you want to ride in,” said her father. “One of those Roman
chariots drawn by four horses, that they race round the ring in, at the
circus.”
“Those rattlety-bang things?” said Patty, laughing at the recollection.
“Yes, they would be all right, only there’s so much danger of spilling
out behind.”
But she climbed into the omnibus with the others and in less than
five minutes they were round the corner, and stopping at their own
hotel. Mr. Fairfield had selected the Quirinal, as a comfortable
and convenient home for them, and when Patty went in, and saw the
handsomely appointed halls and picturesque winter-garden, she said,
“This is better than trolley-cars, but it isn’t so very Roman, after
all.”
“You may as well get rid of your ideas of ancient Rome,” said Mr.
Fairfield. “There is a little of that left, but most of the Rome
you’ll have to do with is decidedly twentieth century, and very much
up-to-date.”
“I believe you!” said Patty, as she noticed the fashionably attired
ladies about, and the modern appliances everywhere.
Then they were taken to their rooms, and Patty exclaimed with delight
at the pleasant apartment reserved for them.
“At last I’ve found something different,” she cried. “This isn’t a bit
like our apartments in London or Paris. Oh, Nan, do see this gorgeous
gold furniture in our drawing-room! I’m sure the Queen has lent it for
our use while we’re here!”
“Grand, but stuffy,” declared Nan, as she threw off her travelling
cloak.
“I like it,” said Patty; “it’s the first effect of Roman luxury I’ve
seen. Do we lie on couches to eat, father?”
“You may if you like, my dear; though I believe it isn’t done much this
year, in the best circles.”
Patty went on exploring, and was greatly pleased with the novelty of
her new surroundings. There was a grand drawing-room, furnished with
heavy velvet hangings and carpets; massive furniture, carved, gilded
and upholstered in rich brocatelles; immense crystal chandeliers;
elaborate mirrors, pictures and bric-à-brac; and a profusion of palms,
statuettes, footstools and sofa pillows.
From this opened a small breakfast-room, also lavishly decorated
and furnished. The bed-rooms, dressing-rooms, and baths were all in
harmonious style, and after a tour of the rooms, Patty declared herself
quite satisfied with the modern Roman notions of living.
“And only think,” said Mr. Fairfield, “the price we pay for all this
gorgeousness is not so much as we paid for far simpler accommodations
in Paris or London either.”
“Oh, let’s live in Rome always, then,” cried Patty, enthusiastically,
“I love it already.”
“Goose-girl!” exclaimed Nan, laughing at her raptures; “go and freshen
yourself up, get into a comfortable gown, and then we’ll have some
breakfast.”
Half an hour later the family gathered in their own breakfast-room,
and a delightful meal was served them there.
Patty and Nan, in pretty house dresses, welcomed the delicious fruits
and daintily-cooked eggs, and the coffee was pronounced better than
that of Paris.
“And as to London,” said Nan, “they spell coffee, T, e, a.”
“So they do,” said Patty, with a wry face at the recollection of London
coffee. “Give me Rome, every time!”
“There’s this difference, too,” said Mr. Fairfield, “you girls will
have to readjust your mode of living a little. In Paris, nobody gets
around till noon, and then they call luncheon breakfast. While here,
people get up and out fairly early, in order to utilize the morning
hours, which are the best of the day. Then they come back and stay
indoors during the middle of the day; luncheon is promptly at twelve,
for that reason; and stay in the house till three or four o’clock, then
go out again if you like for the sunset hours.”
“How funny!” said Patty. “Luncheon at twelve is very early.”
“When you’re in Rome you must do as the Romans do,” said her father,
“and now I’ve told you what that is. But to-day, you two are not going
out at all, at least not until four o’clock this afternoon. You must
rest this morning, and then, at four, I’ll take you out for a drive.
We’re not going to do a lot of sightseeing in a rush, and get all tired
out. We’re here for pleasure, and we must take it slowly, or we can’t
really enjoy it.”
“I’m agreeable,” declared Patty. “I can spend the day beautifully,
unpacking my trunk, and wandering about this hotel, and taking a nap,
and chattering with my stepmother, and lots of things. What are you
going to do, Daddy?”
“I’m going out to engage a Roman chariot for you to ride about in, and
to have the trolley-cars stopped, and the railroad station made over on
a more antique plan.”
“Oh, don’t bother about the station. I shan’t need it again till I go
home, so let it remain as it is.”
“Very well, then; now you two be ready when I come back at noon, and
we’ll lunch downstairs.”
Mr. Fairfield went away, and Patty and Nan went to their work of
unpacking.
Patty was of an orderly nature, and really enjoyed putting her things
neatly away in the wardrobes and drawers, of which there were plenty.
She was accustomed to wait on herself, and so declined the offers of
help from the willing but unintelligible maid who spoke no English.
“I suppose you’re offering to help me,” said Patty, smiling at her,
“but I can’t speak Italian, and I’d rather do things myself anyway.”
The little maid did not quite understand the words, but she gathered
Patty’s meaning, and tripped away to make similar offers to Nan. Nan
couldn’t talk Italian either, but she was inclined to have help, so, by
the aid of smiles and gestures, she quite made herself understood and
her rooms were soon in order.
“What a mess!” she exclaimed, as a couple of hours later she went
to Patty’s room and found that young woman in the midst of a sea of
dresses, hats, slippers, and toilet accessories of all sorts.
“A lovely mess,” returned Patty, placidly. “I’ll soon straighten it
out. But I never could do it, with a Choctaw-speaking Roman trying to
jabber out help.”
“Lucretia isn’t Choctaw; we understood each other perfectly, without
words, and she’s an awfully well-trained maid.”
“Is her name Lucretia? Is she of the old Borgia crowd? Now, she’ll
murder us in our sleep!”
“Like your brigand did! Patty, you’ll never get these clothes put away.
I’ll help you.”
So, working together, the room was soon tidy, and Patty had the
satisfaction of knowing that all her belongings were put away in proper
order.
“I like them so I can put my hand on anything I want in the dark,” she
said to Nan. “Though, indeed, it’s rarely I want my books or sewing
materials in the dark. Or my best hat, for that matter. What would be
the use of one’s best hat in the dark? Nobody could see it!”
But she easily found the clothes she did want, and when Mr. Fairfield
returned, he found two very correct looking ladies, in fresh white
costumes, ready to go to luncheon with him.
“I’ve good news for you,” he said, after they were seated at table; “I
ran across Jim Leland, and he’s living here in Rome, and he proposes to
make it pleasant for us in lots of ways while we’re here.”
“That’s lovely,” said Nan; “it’s always pleasant to know somebody who
lives in a place. Who’s he, Fred?”
“I used to know him twenty years ago, but haven’t seen him since. He’s
a bachelor, and has the reputation of being somewhat of a recluse, but
I know he’ll be genial and hospitable where we’re concerned. He and I
are good chums, though we don’t meet often. He has asked us to dine
with him some night, and I’ve accepted for us all on Monday. I suppose
you’ve no other engagement, Patty?”
“Not unless the King asks me informally to dinner,” she replied. “Where
does Mr. Leland live?”
“Not far away. Just across the street, in fact. He has bachelor
apartments, where he has lived for years, I believe.”
They lingered over their pleasant luncheon, and then strolled out to
the beautiful garden at the back of the hotel.
Here there were no flowers, but palms and strange tropical plants in
great variety. So dense was the foliage in some places that Patty
called it a jungle, and appropriating a wicker chair, declared her
intention of remaining there to read for a while.
“Do as you choose until four,” said her father, “and then your Roman
chariot will await you.”
The Roman chariot proved to be a low, comfortable open carriage, that
Mr. Fairfield had engaged to be at their disposal during their whole
stay in Rome.
As they started off on their first drive round the city, Patty asked
where they were going.
“Not to many places to-day,” said her father. “Just a drive to the
Pincio, and to get a bird’s-eye view of the city. But keep your eyes
open, for this drive will always remain in your memory.”
And it did. Patty never forgot that first afternoon in Rome. She almost
held her breath as they drove rather slowly along the streets, and her
ideas formed and changed and fled so swiftly that she scarcely could be
said to have any.
Her conversation was limited to gasps of surprise and delight,
exclamations of awe and wonder, and little squeals of glee and
merriment.
At last she recognised one thing at least, and cried out, “Oh, isn’t
that Trajan’s Column? It’s just like the Column Vendôme.”
“Good for you,” said her father, “to recognise it. Yes, that’s it, and
next to it you may see Trajan’s Forum.”
“Not a very big one,” said Patty, a little disappointed, “but very tidy
and set in neat rows.”
“Well, the columns weren’t just like that to begin with,” said Mr.
Fairfield, “but they’ve been set up in straight rows since.”
They went on for some distance, and then, at a word from Mr. Fairfield,
the driver paused and stopped at a point that commanded a fine view of
the Coliseum.
Patty first sat and looked at it. Indeed, they all sat silent, looking
at the great structure, as its wonderful lines stood out against the
blue sky.
“I didn’t think it was like that,” said Patty, at last. “I’ve seen
pictures of it, but, well, I don’t think it takes a good picture!”
“No, it doesn’t,” agreed Mr. Fairfield. “No photograph or painting
of the Coliseum can give the least idea of the calm sublimity of the
building itself.”
They drove round it, Patty becoming more and more deeply interested at
every step; but Mr. Fairfield said they would not go inside that day,
as he had other plans.
So they went on, under the great arch of Constantine, and at this
Patty was again dumb with awed admiration.
“How big the things are,” she said.
“And how old,” added Nan, greatly impressed with the ancient monuments.
Then they drove round by the Roman Forum. This was altogether too much,
and she gazed at it, with such a helpless expression on her face that
Mr. Fairfield laughed at her.
“Drive on,” he said to the man; “we’ll see the Forum some other
time. Well, Patty, my child, is Rome antique enough, or is it all
trolley-cars and railroad stations?”
“Oh, Father,” said Patty, and because of a queer lump in her throat,
she couldn’t talk in her usual merry fashion.
“There, there, dearie, don’t take it too seriously. I want you to love
it all, but don’t let it break you up so.”
“I can’t help it,” said Patty, laughing as she wiped her eyes with her
handkerchief; “it’s so big,--so--so----”
“So overpowering,--yes, I know. But that’s why I want you to get used
to it by degrees. Now, we’ll go through some beautiful gardens, and on
to the Pincio.”
Away they went along the Corso Umberto, and passed many statues,
villas, buildings, fountains, and arches, but none of them so impressed
Patty as the ancient ruins had done.
“Why is it,” she asked her father, “that the ruins are so much more
impressive than the complete buildings?”
“That’s partly glamour,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye, for he
remembered what Patty had told him of Mr. Homer’s remarks on glamour.
“And partly what else?” she asked.
“Partly the grandeur of the monuments themselves. If you hadn’t been
affected at the sight of the Coliseum I should have packed you back to
New York by the first boat.”
“And I should have deserved to go,” said Patty, decidedly. “I give you
both fair warning,--the first thing I do every morning while I’m in
Rome is to go straight to the Coliseum and hug it. After that I’ll go
to see the other sights.”
“Can you reach all the way around it?” asked Nan, smiling.
“Don’t be too literal,” said Patty, smiling back. “I shall only hug it
figuratively, but, oh, I do love it! The Venus of Milo has a rival in
my affections. No, not a rival, exactly, for they’re too different to
be compared. But they’re both my favourite statues.”
“That’s one way to put it,” laughed her father. “But here we are on the
top of the Pincian Hill. Will you get out and have some cakes and ices?”
They did so, and Patty found it delightful to sit at one of the little
tables under the trees, and have a Roman afternoon tea. There were a
great many people about, some of whom looked like Americans, and Patty
noticed two or three who belonged in their own hotel.
“Shall we get acquainted with any of the people at the hotel?” she
asked.
“Yes, I think so,” Nan answered. “There are some people from
Philadelphia there, whom I know slightly. I think I’ll look them up
to-morrow.”
“Oh, of course we’ll make acquaintances, sooner or later,” said Mr.
Fairfield.
“The Coliseum is chum enough for me,” said Patty, with a dreamy look.
“I don’t care for anybody else.”
“Glamour has hit you hard,” said her father; “we’d better be going home
and give you a change of scene.”