The Senator had his arms outstretched to indicate the hanging-out process. Still, however, feeling doubtful if he were altogether understood, he thought he would try another form of pantomime. Suddenly he fell down on his knees, and began to imitate the action of a washer-woman over her tub, washing, wringing, pounding, rubbing.
"_O gran' cielo_!" cried the Signora, her pitying heart filled with tenderness at the sight of this noble being on his knees before her, and, as she thought, wringing his hands in despair. "_O gran' cielo! Egli e innamorato di me non puo dirmelo_."
Her warm heart prompted her, and she obeyed its impulse. What else could she do? She flung herself into his outstretched arms, as he raised himself to hang out imaginary clothes on an invisible line.
The Senator was thunderstruck, confounded, bewildered, shattered, overcome, crushed, stupefied, blasted, overwhelmed, horror-stricken, wonder-smitten, annihilated, amazed, horrified, shocked, frightened, terrified, nonplused, wilted, awe-struck, shivered, astounded, dumbfounded. He did not even struggle. He was paralyzed.
"_Ah, carissimo_," said a soft and tender voice in his ear, a low, sweet voice, "_se veramenta me me ami, saro lo tua carissima sposa--_"
At that moment the door opened and Buttons walked in. In an instant he darted out. The Signora hurried away.
"_Addio, bellisima, carissima gioja_!" she sighed.
The Senator was still paralyzed,
After a time he went with a pale and anxious face to see Buttons. The young man promised secrecy, and when the Senator was telling his story tried hard to look serious and sympathetic. In vain. The thought of that scene, and the cause of it, and the blunder that had been made overwhelmed him. Laughter convulsed him. At last the Senator got up indignantly and left the room.
But what was he to do now? The thing could not be explained. How could he get out of the house? He would have to pass her as she sat at the door.
He had to call on Buttons again and implore his assistance. The difficulty was so repugnant, and the matter so very delicate, that Buttons declared he could not take the responsibility of settling it. It would have to be brought before the Club.
The Club had a meeting about it, and many plans were proposed. The stricken Senator had one plan, and that prevailed. It was to leave Rome on the following day. For his part he had made up his mind to leave the house at once. He would slip out as though he intended to return, and the others could settle his bill and bring with them the clothes that had caused all this trouble. He would meet them in the morning outside the gate of the city.
This resolution was adopted by all, and the Senator, leaving money to settle for himself, went away. He passed hurriedly out of the door. He dared not look. He heard a soft voice pronounce the word "_Gioja_!" He fled.
Now that one who owned the soft voice afterward changed her feelings so much toward her "gioja" that opposite his name in her house-book she wrote the following epithets: _Birbone, Villano, Zolicacco, Burberone, Gaglioffo, Meschino, Briconaccio, Anemalaccio_.
CHAPTER XXXVII
.
_ROME_.--_ANCIENT HISTORY_.--THE PREHISTORIC ERA.--CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF NIEBUHR AND HIS SCHOOL.--THE EARLY HISTORY OF ROME PLACED ON A RIGHT BASIS.--EXPLANATION OF HISTORY OF REPUBLIC. --NAPOLEON'S "CAESAR."--THE IMPERIAL REGIME.--THE NORTHERN BARBARIANS.--RISE OF THE PAPACY.--MEDIAEVAL ROME.
_TOPOGRAPHY_.--TRUE ADJUSTMENT OF BOUNDS OF ANCIENT CITY.--ITS PROBABLE POPULATION.--_GEOLOGY_.--EXAMINATION OF FORMATION.--TUFA TRAVERTINE.--ROMAN CEMENT.--TERRA-COTTA. _SPECIAL CONSIDERATION OF ROMAN CATACOMBS_.--BOSIO.--ARRINGHI.--CARDINAL WISEMAN.--RECENT EXPLORATIONS, INVESTIGATIONS, EXAMINATIONS, EXHUMATIONS, AND RESUSCITATIONS.--EARLY CHRISTIAN HISTORY SET ON A TRUE BASIS. --RELICS.--MARTYRS.--REAL ORIGIN OF CATACOMBS.--TRUE AND RELIABLE EXTENT (WITH MAPS).
_REMARKS ON ART_.--THE RENAISSANCE.--THE EARLY PAINTERS: CIMABUE, GIOTTO, PERUGINO, RAFAELLE SANZIO, MICHELANGELO BUONAROTTI.--THE TRANSFIGURATION.--THE MOSES OF MICHELANGELO.--BELLINI.--SAINT PETER'S, AND MORE PARTICULARLY THE COLONNADE.--THE LAST JUDGMENT. --DANTE.--THE MEDIAEVAL SPIRIT.--EFFECT OF GOTHIC ART ON ITALY AND ITALIAN TASTE.--COMPARISON, OF LOMBARD WITH SICILIAN CHURCHES.--TO WHAT EXTENT ROME INFLUENCED THIS DEVELOPMENT.--THE FOSTERING SPIRIT OF THE CHURCH.--ALL MODERN ART CHRISTIAN.--WHY THIS WAS A NECESSITY. --FOLLIES OF MODERN CRITICS.--REYNOLDS AND RUSKIN.--HOW FAR POPULAR TASTE IS WORTH ANY THING.--CONCLUDING REMARKS OF A MISCELLANEOUS DESCRIPTION.
[There! as a bill of fare I flatter myself that the above ought to take the eye. It was my intention, on the departure of the Club from Rome, to write a chapter of a thoroughly exhaustive character, as will be seen by the table of contents above; but afterward, finding that the chapter had already reached the dimensions of a good-sized book before a quarter of it was written, I thought that if it were inserted in this work it would be considered by some as too long; in fact, if it were admitted nothing more would ever be heard of the Dodge Club; which would be a great pity, as the best of their adventures did not take place until after this period; and as this is the real character of the present work, I have finally decided to enlarge the chapter into a book, which I will publish after I have given to the world my "History of the Micmacs," "Treatise on the Greek Particles," "Course of Twelve Lectures on Modern History," new edition of the "Agamemnonian Triology" of Aeschylus, with new readings, "Harmony of Greek Accent and Prosody," "Exercises in Sanscrit for Beginners, on the Ollendorf System," "The Odyssey of Homer translated into the Dublin Irish dialect," "Dissertation on the Symbolical Nature of the Mosaic Economy," "Elements of Logic," "Examination into the Law of Neutrals," "Life of General George Washington," "History of Patent Medicines," "Transactions of the 'Saco Association for the advancement of Human Learning, particularly Natural Science' (consisting of one article written by myself on 'The Toads of Maine')," and "Report of the 'Kennebunkport, Maine, United Congregational Ladies' Benevolent City Missionary and Mariners' Friend Society," which will all be out some of these days, I don't know exactly when; but after they come out this chapter will appear in book form. And if any of my readers prefer to wait till they read that chapter before reading any further, all I can say is, perhaps they'd better not, as after all it has no necessary connection with the fortunes of the Dodge Club.]
CHAPTER XXXVIII
.
ITALIAN TRAVEL, ROADS, INNS.--A GRAND BREAKDOWN.--AN ARMY OF BEGGARS.--SIX MEN HUNTING UP A CARRIAGE WHEEL; AND PLANS OF THE SENATOR FOR THE GOOD OF ITALY.
On the following morning the Senator was picked up at the gate, where he had waited patiently ever since the dawn of day. His seat was secured. His friends were around him. He was safe. They rolled on merrily all that day. And their carriage was ahead of that of the Spaniards. They stopped at the same inns. Buttons was happy.
The next day came. At nine o'clock A.M. on the next day there was a singular scene:
A vettura with the fore-wheel crushed into fragments; two horses madly plunging; five men thrown in different directions on a soft sand-bank; and a driver gazing upon the scene with a face of woe.
The Senator tried most energetically to brush the dust from his clothes with an enormous red silk handkerchief; the Doctor and Mr. Figgs looked aghast at huge rents in their nether garments; Buttons and Dick picked themselves up and hurried to the wreck.
The emotions of the former may be conceived. The wheel was an utter smash. No patching however thorough, no care however tender, could place it on its edge again a perfect wheel. A hill rose before them, behind which the Spaniards, hitherto their companions, had disappeared half an hour previously, and were now rolling on over the palin beyond that hill all ignorant of this disaster. Every moment separated them more widely from the despairing Buttons. Could he have metamorphosed himself into a wheel most gladly would he have done it. He had wild thoughts of setting off on foot and catching up to them before the next day. But, of course, further reflection showed him that walking was out of the question.
Dick looked on in silence. They were little more than a day's journey from Rome. Civita Castellana lay between; yet perhaps a wheel might not be got at Civita Castellana. In that case a return to Rome was inevitable. What a momentous thought! Back to Rome! Ever since he left he had felt a profound melancholy. The feeling of homesickness was on him. He had amused himself with keeping his eyes shut and fancying that he was moving to Rome instead of from it. He had repented leaving the city. Better, he thought, to have waited. He might then have seen Pepita. The others gradually came to survey the scene.
"Eh? Well, what's to be done now?" said Buttons, sharply, as the driver came along. "How long are you going to wait?"
"Signore makes no allowance for a poor man's confusion. Behold that wheel! What is there for me to do--unhappy? May the bitter curse of the ruined fall upon that miserable wheel!"
Travelling In Italy.
[Illustration: Travelling In Italy.]
"The coach has already fallen on it," said Dick. "Surely that is enough."
"It infuriates me to find myself overthrown here."
"You could not wish for a better place, my Pietro."
"What will you do?" said Buttons. "We must not waste time here. Can we go on?"
"How is that possible?"
"We might get a wheel at the next town."
"We could not find one if we hunted all through the three next towns."
"Curse your Italian towns!" cried Buttons, in a rage.
"Certainly, Signore, curse them if you desire."
"Where can we get this one repaired then?"
"At Civita Castellana, I hope."
"Back there! What, go back!"
"I am not to blame," said Pietro, with resignation.
"We must not go back. We shall not."
"If we go forward every mile will make it worse. And how can we move with this load and this broken wheel up that hill?"
That was indeed a difficulty. The time that had lapsed since the lamentable break-down had been sufficient to bring upon the scene an inconceivable crowd. After satisfying their curiosity they betook themselves to business.
Ragged, dirty, evil-faced, wicked-eyed, slouching, whining, impudent--seventeen women, twenty-nine small boys, and thirty-one men, without counting curs and goats.
"Signo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o! in the name of the Ever Blessed, and for the love of Heaven." "Go to thunder." "For the love of." "We have nothing, _nothing_, NOTHING! Do you hear?" "Of the Virgin." "Away! Be off." "Give me." "Go to blazes!" "Me miserable." "Will you be off?" "Infirm, blind, and." "I'll break your skull!" "Altogether desperate." "If you torment us any more, I'll." "Only the smallest charity." "Smash your abominable bottle-nose!" "Oh, generous nobles!" "Don't press me, you filthy." "Illustrious cavaliers!" "Take that! and if you say any more I'll kick you harder." "I kneel before you, oppressed, wretched, starving. Let these tears." "I'll make you shed more of them if you don't clear out." "N-n-n-Sig-no-o-o-o-o!" "Away!" "Behold a wretched villager from the far distant Ticino!" "You be hanged! Keep off!" "Oh, Signo-o-o-o-o! Oh per l'amor di Dio! Carita! Carita-a-a-a --solamente un mezzo baroccho--oh, Signo-o-o!--datemi."
"Pietro! Pietro! for Heaven's sake get us out of this at once. Anywhere--anywhere, so that we can escape from these infernal Vagabonds."
The result was, that Pietro turned his carriage round. By piling the baggage well behind, and watching the fore-axle carefully, he contrived to move the vehicle along. Behind them followed the pertinacious beggars, filling the air with prayers, groans, sighs, cries, tears, lamentations, appeals, wailings, and entreaties. Thus situated they made their entry into Civita Castellana.
Others might have felt flattered at the reception that awaited them. They only felt annoyed. The entire city turned out. The main street up which they passed was quite full. The side-streets showed people hurrying up to the principal thoroughfare. They were the centre of all eyes. Through the windows of the café the round eyes of the citizens were visible on the broad stare. Even the dogs and cats had a general turn out.
Nor could they seek relief in the seclusion of the hotel. The anxiety which all felt to resume their journey did not allow them to rest. They at once explored the entire city.
Was there a carriage-maker in the place? A half-hour's search showed them that there was not one. The next thing then was to try and find a wheel. About this they felt a little hopeful. Strange, indeed, if so common a thing could not be obtained.
Yet strange as this might be it was even so. No wheel was forthcoming. They could not find a carriage even. There was nothing but two ancient caleches, whose wheels were not only rickety but utterly disproportioned to the size of the vettura, and any quantity of bullock carts, which moved on contrivances that could scarcely be called wheels at all.
Three hours were consumed in the tedious search. The entire body of the inhabitants became soon aware of the object of their desires, and showed how truly sympathetic is the Italian nature, by accompanying them wherever they went, and making observations that were more sprightly than agreeable.
At first the Club kept together, and made their search accompanied by Pietro; but after a time the crowd became so immense that they separated, and continued their search singly. This produced but slight improvement. The crowd followed their example. A large number followed the Senator: walking when he walked; stopping when he stopped; turning when he turned; strolling when he strolled; peering when he peered; commenting when he spoke, and making themselves generally very agreeable and delightful.
At every corner the tall form of the Senator might be seen as he walked swiftly with the long procession following like a tail of a comet; or as he stopped at times to look around in despair, when
"He above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent
Stood like a tower. His form had not yet lost
All its original brightness;"
although, to tell the truth, his clothes had, and the traces of mud and dust somewhat dimmed the former lustre of his garments.
The appalling truth at last forced itself upon them that Civita Castellana could not furnish them either with a new wheel or a blacksmith who could repair the broken one. Whether the entire mechanical force of the town had gone off to the wars or not they did not stop to inquire. They believed that the citizens had combined to disappoint them, in hopes that their detention might bring in a little ready money and start it in circulation around the community.
It was at last seen that the only way to do the was to send Pietro back to Rome. To delay any longer would be only a waste of time. Slowly and sadly they took up their quarters at the hotel. Dick decided to go back so as to hasten Pietro, who might otherwise loiter on the way. So the dilapidated carriage had to set out on its journey backward.
Forced to endure the horrors of detention in one of the dullest of Italian towns, their situation was deplorable. Mr. Figgs was least unhappy, for he took to his bed and slept through the entire period, with the exception of certain little intervals which he devoted to meals. The Doctor sat quietly by an upper window playing the devil's tattoo on the ledge with inexhaustible patience.
The Senator strolled through the town. He found much to interest him. His busy brain was filled with schemes for the improvement of the town.
How town lots could be made valuable; how strangers could be attracted; how manufactures could be promoted; how hotels started; how shops supported; how trade increased; how the whole surrounding population enriched, especially by the factories.
The Senator's Escort.
[Illustration: The Senator's Escort.]
"Why, among these here hills," said he, confidentially, to Buttons --"among these very hills there is water-power and excellent location for, say--Silk-weaving mills, Fulling ditto, Grist ditto, Carding ditto, Sawing ditto, Plaster-crushing ditto, Planing ditto. --Now I would locate a cotton-mill over there."
"Where would you get your cotton?" mumbled Buttons.
"Where?" repeated the Senator. "Grow it on the Campagna, of course."
Buttons passed the time in a fever of impatience.
For far ahead the Spaniards were flying further and further away, no doubt wondering at every stage why he did not join them.
CHAPTER XXXIX
.
TRIUMPHANT PROGRESS OF DICK.--GENDARMES FOILED.--THE DODGE CLUB IS ATTACKED BY BRIGANDS, AND EVERY MAN OF IT COVERS HIMSELF WITH GLORY.--SCREAM OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE!
It was late on the evening of the following day before Dick made his appearance with Pietro, Another vettura had been obtained, and with cracks of a long whip that resounded through the whole town, summoning the citizens to the streets; with thunder of wheels over the pavements; with prancing and snorting of horses; Pietro drove up to the hotel. Most conspicuous in the turn-out was Dick, who was seated in the coupe, waving his hat triumphantly in the air.
The appearance of the carriage was the signal for three hearty cheers, which burst involuntarily from the three Americans on the courtyard, rousing Mr. Figgs from sleep and the inn-keeper from his usual lethargy. One look at the horses was enough to show that there was no chance of proceeding further that day. The poor beasts were covered with foam, and trembled excessively. However, they all felt infinite relief at the prospect of getting away, even though they would have to wait till the following morning.
Dick was dragged to the dining-room by his eager friends and fiercely interrogated. He had not much to tell.
The journey to Rome had been made without any difficulty, the carriage having tumbled forward on its front axle not more than one hundred and fifty-seven times. True, when it reached Rome it was a perfect wreck, the framework being completely wrenched to pieces; and the proprietor was bitterly enraged with Pietro for not leaving the carriage at Civita Castellana, and returning on horseback for a wheel; but Dick interceded for the poor devil of a driver, and the proprietor kindly consented to deduct the value of the coach from his wages piecemeal.
Their journey back was quick but uninteresting. Dick acknowledged that he had a faint idea of staying in Rome, but saw a friend who advised him not to. He had taken the reins and driven for a great part of the way, while Pietro had gone inside and slumbered the sleep of the just.
As it was a lonely country, with few inhabitants, he had beguiled the tedious hours of the journey by blowing patriotic airs on an enormous trombone, purchased by him from a miscellaneous dealer in Rome. The result had been in the highest degree pleasing to himself, though perhaps a little surprising to others. No one, however, interfered with him except a party of gendarmes who attempted to stop him. They thought that he was a Garibaldino trying to rouse the country. The trombone might have been the cause of that suspicion.
Fortunately the gendarmes, though armed to the teeth, were not mounted, and so it was that, when they attempted to arrest Dick, that young man lashed his horses to fury, and, loosening the reins at the same moment, burst through the line, and before they knew what he was about he was away.
They fired a volley. The echoes died away, mingled with gendarmerian curses. The only harm done was a hole made by a bullet through the coach. The only apparent effect was the waking of Pietro. That worthy, suddenly roused from slumber, jumped up to hear the last sounds of the rifles, to see the hole made by the bullet, the fading forms of the frantic officials, and the nimble figure of the gallant driver, who stood upright upon the seat waving his hat over his head, while the horses dashed on at a furious gallop.
Dick In His Glory.
[Illustration: Dick In His Glory.]
This was all. Nothing more occurred, for Pietro drove the remainder of the way, and Dick's trombone was tabooed.
On the following morning the welcome departure was made. To their inexpressible joy they found that the coach was this time a strong one, and no ordinary event of travel could delay them. They had lost two days, however, and that was no trifle. They now entered upon the second stage, and passed on without difficulty.
In fact, they didn't meet with a single incident worth mentioning till they came to Perugia. Perugia is one of the finest places in Italy, and really did not deserve to be overhauled so terrifically by the Papal troops. Every body remembers that affair. At the time when the Dodge Club arrived at this city they found the Papal party in the middle of a reaction. They actually began to fear that they had gone a little too far. They were making friendly overtures to the outraged citizens. But the latter were implacable, stiff!
What rankled most deeply was the maddening fact that these Swiss, who were made the ministers of vengeance, were part of that accursed, detested, hated, shunned, despised, abhorred, loathed, execrated, contemptible, stupid, thick-headed, brutal, gross, cruel, bestial, demoniacal, fiendish, and utterly abominable race--_I Tedeschi_ --whose very name, when hissed from an Italian month, expresses unutterable scorn and undying hate.
They left Perugia at early dawn. Jogging on easily over the hills, they were calculating the time when they would reach Florence.
In the disturbed state of Italy at this time, resulting from war and political excitement, and general expectation of universal change, the country was filled with disorder, and scoundrels infested the roads, particularly in the Papal territories. Here the Government, finding sufficient employment for all its energies in taking care of itself, could scarcely be expected to take care either of its own subjects or the traveller through its dominions. The Americans had heard several stories about brigands, but had given themselves no trouble whatever about them.
Now it came to pass that about five miles from Perugia they wound round a very thickly-wooded mountain, which ascended on the left, far above, and on the right descended quite abruptly into a gorge. Dick was outside; the others inside. Suddenly a loud shout, and a scream from Pietro. The carriage stopped.
The inside passengers could see the horses rearing and plunging, and Dick, snatching whip and reins from Pietro, lashing them with all his might. In a moment all inside was in an uproar.
"We are attacked!" cried Buttons.
"The devil!" cried the Senator, who, in his sudden excitement, used the first and only profane expression which his friends ever heard him utter.
Out came the Doctor's revolver.
Bang! bang! wept two rifles outside, and a loud voice called on them to surrender.
"_Andate al Diavolo_!" pealed out Dick's voice as loud as a trumpet. His blows fell fast and furiously on the horses. Maddened by pain, the animals bounded forward for a few rods, and then swerving from the road-side, dashed against the precipitous hill, where the coach stuck, the horses rearing.
Through the doors which they had flung open in order to jump out the occupants of the carriage saw the reeling figures of armed men overthrown and cursing. In a moment they all were out.
Bang! and then--
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-bang! went half a dozen rifles.
Thank Heaven! not one of the Club, was struck. There were twenty scoundrels armed to the teeth.
The Doctor was as stiff as a rock. He aimed six times as calmly as though he were in a pistol-gallery. Nerve told. Six explosions roared. Six yells followed. Six men reeled.
"I'd give ten years of my life for such a pistol!" cried Buttons.
The Italians were staggered. Dick had a bowie-knife. The Senator grasped a ponderous beam that he had placed on the coach in case of another break-down. Mr. Figgs had a razor which he had grabbed from the storehouse in the Doctor's pocket. Buttons had nothing. But on the road lay three Italians writhing.
"Hurrah!" cried Buttons. "Load again, Doctor. Come; let's make a rush and get these devils on the road."