From Antwerp they traveled to Brussels and from there to Rome by express, by way of Milan. They expected to find it warm in Italy and left their heavy clothing at Antwerp to await their return. They traveled through the Italian Alps, however, and suffered from the cold until Rome was reached. The journey from Brussels was begun in the evening and the second night was passed on the way from Milan to Rome. No seats together were to be had in the train from Milan. The daughter found a good seat in the compartment reserved for women where there was room also for her father and where he joined her. Whenever the conductor came around he remonstrated with the Professor; but as the latter was comfortably established this was met by a stare of no comprehension and the slipping of a lira into the conductor’s hand which ended the argument until the next conductor came around when the process must be repeated. It was, however, uniformly successful.
They approached Rome on the afternoon of a beautiful day in May. The whole surroundings were picturesque in the extreme. Black masses of masonry perched upon the hilltops, marking the sites of cities and towns, spoke eloquently of the reign of lawlessness only just passing away. They passed remains of tombs and caverns excavated in the hillsides—the marks of past civilizations. Everywhere, inside and outside of Rome, were foundations of buildings of the oldest masonry upon which a second structure had been erected, to be in turn destroyed and serve as the foundation of another erection, but still leaving visible remains. This was the country and these the places where Julius and Augustus Caesar lived and reigned, where Cicero spoke, where Cataline conspired, over which Hannibal roamed at will and where Fabian tactics were born. This was the land of the two Plinies, of Scipio the conqueror of Carthage, of Dante and Virgil; the sense of its antiquity grew and became overpowering.
They thought Italy the most beautiful country they had ever seen, “Why,” said the Professor, “As we traveled along I saw Narcissus Poeticus growing in the fields.”
They stopped at the Royal Hotel and were visited by a valet who proposed that he should take care of them during their stay, to which they assented. They occupied three rooms, two bedrooms and a sitting room. In the sitting room of a morning breakfast was prepared by the valet while they were dressing. Then they sat down to breakfast, the valet waiting on them. Lunch was served downstairs, but dinner was the great event of hotel life. The guests were expected to be on time but if delayed they murmured a perfunctory excuse to the Major Domo which was smilingly accepted. The cooking here was elevated to the dignity of a fine art. It was marvelous and sometimes spectacular; as when at the conclusion of a meal an ice was placed in a dish and this in another larger dish held high upon the waiter’s outstretched hand, came in surrounded by blue flames, produced by pouring a little strong liquor into the outer vessel and setting fire to it. Upon another evening, after dinner, the guests were entertained with a very wonderful musical performance carried out by two men and a woman, the latter a very beautiful and accomplished Italian. It soon dawns upon the traveler that the modern Italian is descended from widely differing tribes, few of whom even look alike. Those we know best are swarthy, with black hair and wonderful eyes. There are many types beside this, and not a few light skins and blue eyes.
The Congress was divided into sections. The presiding officer of each section had been selected because of his accomplishments as a linguist. This was necessary, because there were four official languages in which papers might be presented and discussed: Italian, French, German and English. Two of the presiding officers were Germans: Georg Lunge, an accomplished technical chemist, who had been petted until his sense of proportion had been lost and he had become arrogant, and Wilhelm Ostwald, an equally accomplished and much more learned man and a great physical chemist, who was always polite and never was able to forget that he was a gentleman, first. But the sessions were found uninteresting by comparison. Rome itself was so absorbing. They soon gave up the sessions entirely and devoted all their time to exploring the city. The first trip was to the Colosseum. Here they secured a guide—quite an old man, with an English all his own—who declared that: “He was a Roman citizen and p-r-r-r-oud of it.” The Professor did not blame him in the least for this feeling. The old man proved to be a wonderful mine of information, most of it apparently accurate. He explained how the naval battles and other water scenes were managed, how the crowds were protected from the sun and from rains, how the various orders of Romans came in and reached their seats, and showed them the dens where wild beasts were kept. In answer to a question as to how the stones of the amphitheatre were joined without mortar, he took them to a place where a broken corner showed the method of joining by means of a short iron rod leaded into both stones. While they were talking and the Professor was sketching he turned his head and found a policeman with sword and musket overlooking the performance, and especially the sketching, which it seemed was forbidden. But the guide set them at ease by remarking, pointing to the policeman: “a friend of mine.”
Another afternoon was devoted to the famous Forum Romanum, the scene of so many speeches and so many triumphs, and, especially remembered, the speech of Antony over Caesar’s dead body, reported by Shakespeare, and repeated and varied in interpretation by so many of the masters of the tragic art.
A third excursion was to the catacombs on the Appian Way. They were greeted here by a priestly-looking crowd of men one of whom enquired, pointing at them: “English?” Answered in the affirmative they were motioned aside until enough English had accumulated to make up a party and the burly and not over clean guide led them around. The catacombs were disappointing. The galleries are narrow, tortuous and unattractive. The remains of the art of that period though no doubt interesting as showing how art arose decayed and died, were not interesting to a modern. The conclusion was still more unattractive; for, on trying to find their conveyance they discovered that it had disappeared and they must find their way back afoot. But it was evening; they were walking over the road so many conquerors had trodden; under the soft Roman twilight with the monuments of the great dead on both sides of the way; they were glad the driver had fled and left them to walk.
One day was stolen for a swift excursion to Naples to see the museum. Here they stopped at Bertolini’s Hotel, which is situated on the side of a hill far above the city level, with a splendid view. This is reached by going through a doorway into a tunnel at the end of which is a lift. At the top a splendid hotel with this superb view of the bay and of Vesuvius.
There was not time for a thorough examination of the treasures of the museum, but enough was seen to verify and enlarge some statements the Professor had made in a history he was then writing. The examples of metal working were very illuminating, showing as they did in some magnificent examples from Pompeii how little modern art excelled the art of that day except in speed and cheapness of working.
Returning to Rome they discovered that the trip to Elba and to Lardrello had been abandoned because of a strike among the employes on the railway and steamboat; but the Professor declared that he had come to see Lardrello and he would walk there if necessary. The next day they started for Pisa. Most of the route lay along the rocky coast of the Mediterranean through the most beautiful scenery in the world. The road runs along a shelf on the rocks with many tunnels. And the smoke! Ah, the smoke! Oh, the smoke! It gets into the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the ears, over the face and down the back. There is no avoiding it and no escape is possible. They arrived at Pisa about 11 P. M. and were met at the hotel by the proprietor with the question: “You would like a room?” “Yes, two rooms.” A shrug, and then: “I do not know what I shall do; we have but two rooms; one has three beds and the other four beds.”