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, wasdismounting from his horse, on his return from a ride which he had beentaking into the country. He had been attended on his ride by a servantman named Thomas. Thomas dismounted from his horse first, and held thebridle of Copley's horse while Copley dismounted.
"There!" said Copley, walking off with a very grand air, and leaving hishorse in Thomas's hands; "take the horse, Thomas, and never bring mesuch 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. "Hesays she is not safe."
"It's none of his business," said Copley. "He thinks, because he is alittle older than I am, and because he is married,--though he has notbeen married much more than a month,--that he has a right to order meabout just as he pleases. And I am determined not to submit to it--wouldyou?"
These last words were addressed to Rollo. Copley had been advancingtowards the door of the hotel, while he had been speaking, and had nowjust 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 onthat account to lord it over me. I have as good a right to have my wayas he has to have his."
Some further conversation then followed between Copley and Rollo, inwhich the former said that he had been for several weeks in Rome, incompany with his brother. He had an uncle, too, in town, he said, atanother hotel.
"But I stay with my brother," said Copley, "because he is going to makea 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 totravel slowly to Florence, and from Florence into the northern part ofItaly, to Milan and Venice, and all those places. Then, afterwards, weshall go over, by some of the passes of the Alps, into Switzerland. Ilike to travel in that way, I have so much fun in seeing the towns andthe country. Besides, when we travel with a vetturino, I almost alwaysride 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 goingdown to Civita Vecchia, to take the steamer there for Marseilles, and Idon't want to go that way."
Copley then asked Rollo to go out into the Corso with him. He said thathe saw a shop there, as he was coming home, which had a great display ofwhips at the window, and he wanted to buy a whip, so that when they setout on their journey he could have a whip of his own.
"The vetturino never will let me have _his_ whip," said he. "The lash isso long that he says I shall get it entangled in the harness. That's noreason, for he is always getting it entangled himself. But that's hisexcuse, 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 mustwait here for me a minute or two. I must go up to my room first; but Iwill come directly down again."
Rollo wished to go up to his room to ask his uncle's permission to gowith Copley. He made it an invariable rule never to go any where withouthis uncle's permission. Mr. George was always ready to give permissionin such cases, unless there was some really good and substantial reasonfor withholding it. And whenever Mr. George withheld his consent fromany of Rollo's proposals, Rollo always submitted at once, without makingany difficulty, even when he thought that his uncle was wrong, and thathe might have consented as well as not.
It was not altogether principle on the part of Rollo, that made himpursue this course; it was in a great measure policy.
"I like travelling about the world with uncle George," he used to say tohimself, "and in order that I may travel with him a great deal, I mustmake it for his interest to take me. That is, I must manage so that hewill have a better time when I am with him, than when he goes alone; andin order to do this, I must take care never to give him any trouble orconcern of any kind on my account. I must comply with his wishes inevery thing, and be satisfied with such pleasures and enjoyments as hefully approves."
Rollo did not think of this altogether of himself. It was his fatherthat put the idea into his mind. He did it in a conversation that he hadwith Rollo the day before he set out on the journey.
"Rollo, my boy," said he, "in going on this journey into Italy with youruncle George, there is one danger that you will have to look out forvery carefully."
"Getting robbed by the brigands?" asked Rollo.
"No," said Mr. Holiday; "it is something very different from that, and agreat deal worse. That is to say, the evil that you have to fear from itis a great deal worse than any thing that would probably happen to youby 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 hisfather's question. He thought he knew very well what the meaning of theword _independence_ was, but he did not readily know how to clothe themeaning in language. At last he said that he thought independence wasdoing what you thought was best yourself, without regard to what otherpeople 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 thinkthat firing his gun when _he_ thought best, instead of when the_captain_ thought best, was a good thing in a soldier, on the field ofbattle?"
"No, sir," said Rollo.
"And so, would the independence of the colonel of a regiment," continuedMr. Holiday, "in marching when he thought best, instead of when thegeneral 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 propersphere," said Mr. Holiday; "but when it takes the form of disregardingor rebelling against right and proper authority, it is a very badquality. It cannot be tolerated. If it were allowed generally to prevailamong mankind, the whole world would be thrown into confusion, andnothing could go on. This is now the kind of independence that you mustguard against. You are growing up rapidly, and increasing in strengthand knowledge every day. You are becoming a young man, and in a greatmany of the situations in which you are placed, you are fully competentto take care of yourself. Still you are what the law calls a minor. Thatis, you have not arrived at an age when you can safely be your ownmaster, and support and take care of yourself. Consequently, the lawmakes it your father's duty, for some years to come, to furnish moneyfor your support, and to provide for you all necessary protection. Andthe same law makes it your duty to be under my direction, to conformyour 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 hisfather for the means of his support, it is right that he should act ashis father's judgment dictates. It will be time enough for him to expectthat he should act according to his own judgment, in his conduct, whenhe is able to earn his own living, and so release his father from allresponsibility on his account. In a word, the pecuniary responsibilityof 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, underyour 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 complywith all his wishes, just as you wou
ld if I were in his place."
"Yes, father," said Rollo, "I will."
"Besides being your duty," added Mr. Holiday, "it is greatly for yourinterest to do so. If you begin to show your independence, as it issometimes called, and insist on doing what you think is best, instead ofwhat he thinks is best, so as to cause him trouble, and make him feelanxious and uneasy on your account, you will spoil the pleasure of hisjourney, and he will not wish to take you with him again."
Mr. Holiday had some further conversation with Rollo on the subject, andthe effect of what he said was to lead Rollo to think more than heotherwise would have done on the proper course which a boy ought topursue when travelling under the charge of his uncle, and he resolvedthat he would, in all cases, not only obey implicitly his uncle'scommands, but that he would comply readily and cordially with hiswishes, whenever he could ascertain them.
Accordingly, in this case, he would not go even out into the Corsowithout first going up to obtain his uncle's permission. He opened thedoor 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 goout 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, Isuppose. 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 homefirst 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 intheir room for Copley to come up. They knew at what hour he would returnfrom his ride, and they had formed a plan for going in a carriage outupon the Appian Way, to see some ancient ruins there. They knew verywell that Copley would not care any thing about the ruins, but he alwaysliked to go with them when they took drives in the environs of Rome. Thespecial reason why Copley was so much interested in going on theseexcursions was, that he was accustomed, in such cases, to sit on thefront seat with the coachman, as he did when travelling with thevetturins, and sometimes he obtained permission to drive a little, bysecretly offering the coachman a piece of money. Mr. William had chargedhis brother to come up to the parlor as soon as he came home from hisride, and Copley ought to have done so. But it was never Copley'spractice to pay much heed to requests of this kind from his brother.
Mr. William, having waited for some time after he had seen the twohorses arrive at the door, wondering all the time why Copley did notcome up, went down to the door to inquire what had become of him. Theconcierge informed him that Copley had gone away with another boy, outto the Corso. So Mr. William ordered the carriage, and he and his wifewent away on their excursion alone.
Rollo and Copley had a very pleasant walk along the Corso. They wereobliged, however, to walk in the middle of the street, for thesidewalks were so narrow and so irregular in shape, sometimes growingnarrower and narrower, until at length there was scarcely any thing butthe curb-stone left, that Rollo and Copley could not walk upon them.
At last, however, they came to the place where Copley had seen thewhips. Copley had plenty of money, but I do not know how he would havemanaged to buy one of the whips, if Rollo had not been with him; for theman who had them to sell could only speak French and Italian, and Copleydid not know either of these languages. He had been studying French, itis true, for several years in school, but he had taken no interest inlearning the language, and the little knowledge of it which he hadacquired was not of such a character as to be of any use to him. As tothe 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 issuch a bore to have him about; and you do just as well."
After having bought the whip, Copley proposed that they should go to thediligence office and see if there were any diligences there aboutsetting out on their journeys. The diligence office which Copleyreferred to was not in the Corso, but in another street, at right anglesto it. When the boys reached the office, they found that there were nodiligences there; so they rambled on without much idea of where theywere going, until at length they came to the river, near one of thebridges leading across it. A short distance below the bridge, there wasa small steamboat coming up the river.
"Ah, look there!" said Copley. "There's a steamer coming! Where do yousuppose that steamer is coming from?"
"It is coming from Ostia, I suppose," said Rollo. "At any rate, I knowthat 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 fromthe 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 thepassengers get out; but there were very few passengers to come. The boysthen went down towards the pier, and on inquiring of a gentleman whomthey saw there, they found that the boat went down the river to Ostiaevery morning, and returned every night, and Copley immediatelyconceived the idea of going down in her.
"Let's go down to-morrow," said he. "It is just far enough for apleasant sail."
Rollo's imagination was quite taken with the idea of sailing down toOstia. There seems to be something specially attractive to boys in theidea of sailing down to the mouths of rivers. It is so pleasant to watchthe gradual widening of the stream, and to meet vessels coming up, andto see the fishermen's boats, and the nets spread on the land, and thelittle inlets, with the tide flowing in and out, and other indicationsof the approach towards the sea. Besides, Rollo wished very much to seewhat sort of a place Ostia was.
However, he would not positively promise to go. He said he should liketo go very much, but that he could not decide the question until heshould go home.
"I must see uncle George first," said Rollo. "It is possible that he mayhave formed some engagement for me to-morrow."
"O, never mind what engagement he has formed," said Copley. "Tell himthat you can't go with him, because you have agreed to go down the riverwith 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, theboys returned home. Rollo took care to arrive at the hotel before thetwo hours were expired. Mr. George had just finished his letter, and wasfolding 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 Copleyhad bought his whip, and then we went on till we came to the bridge, andthere we saw a steamboat which goes to Ostia and back. Copley wants meto 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 hisletter. He did not say any thing, but Rollo observed a very slight andalmost 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 dealabout going."
Most boys, perhaps, under these circumstances, would have asked why, inorder that, after hearing their uncle's objections to their plans, theymight argue against them. But Rollo knew very well that this would bevery bad policy for him.
"If uncle George finds that he has a long argument to maintain againstme, every time that he refuses me any thing," said he to himself, "hewill soon get tired of having me under his care."
S
o 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 toOstia.
Copley was to have called that evening at Rollo's room, to obtain hisanswer; but on further reflection, he concluded not to do so.
Indeed, he had a secret feeling that neither Rollo's uncle nor his ownbrother would approve of the plan of two such boys going alone, in sucha country, on an expedition which was entirely outside of the usualrange of tourists and travellers. That this expedition _was_ outside therange was evident from the character of the steamboat that the boys hadseen, which was evidently not intended for the conveyance of ladies andgentlemen, but of people of the country--and those, moreover, of thelowest class.
So Copley concluded that if he were to go at all to Ostia, it would benecessary for him to go by stealth, and he resolved not to say anything 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 concludedto say no more to Rollo on the subject, but instead of that, he proposedthe plan to another boy of his acquaintance, who lodged with his friendsat another hotel.
"The best way will be," said he, when he made the proposal, "for us notto tell any body where we are going."
"Then they'll wonder where we are," said the boy, "and be frightenedhalf to death about us."
"But we can leave word when we go, with the porter of the hotel, or theconcierge," said Copley, "that we have gone down the river in thesteamboat, 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 theirrespective hotels where they were going, and set forth. They stole awayvery secretly, and after running round the corner, they crept alongclose to the wall of the hotel, until they thought they were at a safedistance. They reached the boat in good season, went on board, and indue 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. Sohe 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 nineo'clock."
"Go down below," said Mr. William, "and inquire of the concierge and theporters if they have seen him, or know where he is."
Mr. William followed Pacifico as he went out, in order to speak a momentto a friend of his who occupied the next apartment. As he came back hemet Pacifico at the head of the stairs, and received his answer there.The answer was, that Copley had gone down the river to Ostia withanother boy.
Mr. William was greatly astonished to hear this. He, however, saidnothing to Pacifico, but after pausing a moment, as if reflecting uponwhat he had heard, he went back into his own apartment.
"Maria," said he, addressing his young wife, "where do you think Copleyhas 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 himhome 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 ofour journey to have a boy with us that is determined to have his ownway, without regard to the inconvenience or anxiety that he occasionsme."
"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 isgoing 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 wayof 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, andpen 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 hetook up the pen and began to make preparations to write. "I intend to goas far as Civita Castellana to-night. We will set out at two o'clock. Iwish you to go and find our vetturino, and direct him to be here half anhour before that time with the carriage, to load the baggage. He knowsthat we were going soon, and he will be prepared. In the mean time youmay get our baggage ready. Copley's trunk, however, is not to go. Packthat, and send it by a porter over to the Hotel d'Amerique. I am goingto 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 itwas finished, he read it to his wife, as follows. It was addressed tohis father in England.
"ROME, June 20, 1858.
"DEAR FATHER: We are all well, and, on the whole, have enjoyed ourresidence 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 youwith his uncle. Though a pretty good boy in other respects, he does notseem to be quite willing enough to submit to my direction, to make itpleasant for me, or safe for him, that we should travel together. I willnot say that it is his _fault_ altogether. It is perhaps because thereis not difference enough in our ages for him to feel that I ought tohave any authority over him. At any rate, he is unwilling to acknowledgemy authority, and he takes so many liberties that I am kept in aconstant state of anxiety on his account. Besides, I do not think thatit is safe for him to be so much at his own disposal. This country isfull of thieves, brigands, and rogues, of the most desperate andreckless character; and young men sometimes suffer extremely in fallinginto their hands. Copley is not aware of the danger, and he thinks thatthe restraints which I feel compelled to impose upon him are unnecessaryand vexatious. Often he will not submit to them. To-day, he has gonedown the river on board one of the country steamers, without saying anything to me about it; and, though I do not suppose he will get into anydifficulty, in making such an excursion, still the fact that he takesthe liberty of doing such things keeps me continually uneasy about him,and there is danger that, sooner or later, he will get into some serioustrouble.
"I have, accordingly, concluded to leave him under uncle's charge, witha view of having him return with uncle to England, by way of theMediterranean. Uncle will leave here in a few days, and you mayaccordingly expect to see Copley at home again in the course of a weekafter 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," asthe hotel office is called, where he left it with the secretary of thehotel, to be sent to the post office.
He then went out at the front door of the hotel to the public squarebefore it, and there taking a carriage, he ordered the coachman to driveto the Hotel d'Amerique. When arrived there, he went to his uncle'sapartment, and explained the plan which he had formed, and the reasonfor it. His uncle said that he would very readily take Copley under hischarge. Mr. William then said that he was intending to leave town thatday, but he should leave Thomas at his hotel to wait for Copley, andbring him over to the Hotel d'Amerique as soon as he returned.
This arrangement was carried into effect. Mr. William directed Thomas toremain in town, to take care of Copley on his return from Ostia, anddeliver him safely into his uncle's hands. It occasioned Mr. William noinconvenience to leave Thomas behind for a day, since, though Thomasusual
ly travelled in the same carriage with the family, the vetturinohimself always drove. Thomas, together with Pacifico, the courier, rodeon an outside seat in front, while Copley sometimes rode inside, thoughmore frequently on the driver's seat, by the side of the vetturino.
"Thomas," said Mr. Grant, in giving Thomas his instructions, "I am goingto 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 ofthe Post, at Civita Castellana. I wish you to wait here until Copleycomes home, and then tell him that I have gone out of town, and shallnot be back to-night, and that he is going to spend the night at theHotel d'Amerique with his uncle. Do not tell him where I have gone, northat you are coming after me. His uncle will tell him all to-morrowmorning."
In the mean time, while these occurrences had been taking place at thehotel, Copley and his companion had been sailing down the river on boardthe little steamboat. They had, on the whole, a pretty pleasant time,though they were somewhat disappointed in the scenery on the banks ofthe river. The country was perfectly bare of trees, and destitute of allcultivation. There were no villages, and scarcely a human habitation tobe seen. The boys, however, met with no trouble, and returned safelyhome about four o'clock.
Copley found Thomas waiting for him at the hotel door.
"Mr. Copley," said Thomas, as Copley advanced towards the door, "yourbrother has gone out of town, and will not be back to-night, and I wasto wait here for you, and tell you that you were to go and spend thenight at your uncle's apartment at the Hotel d'Amerique."
"Good!" said Copley. He felt quite relieved to find that his brother hadgone away, as he thus escaped the danger of being called to account forhis 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 atliberty to say, though Copley understood him to mean that he did notknow.
"Very well," said Copley; "I don't care where he has gone. It makes nodifference 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 thenorth of Italy, and to Switzerland, and had left him behind to returnhome at once with his uncle by sea. His uncle did not tell him thatnight where his brother had gone, for fear that Copley might make somedifficulty, by insisting on going on after him in the diligence withThomas. Accordingly, when Copley asked the question, his uncle onlyanswered vaguely, that his brother had gone out somewhere into theenvirons of Rome. The next morning, however, he handed Copley a notewhich 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 journeynorth. I am sorry that you are not here to bid me good by. I did notknow that you were going down the river.
"It must be hard for a boy as old as you to be under the command of onewho is, after all, only his brother,--and not a great many years olderthan he is himself,--for I am not quite ten years older than you. I knowyou have found this hard, and so I have concluded that you had betterreturn 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 ownmaster, and can do as you please, without any danger. Wishing you a verypleasant voyage,
"I am your affectionate brother,
"WILLIAM GRANT."
Copley's indignation and rage at reading this letter seemed at first toknow no bounds. He was, however, entirely helpless. His brother hadgone, 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, theport of Rome, on the Mediterranean, and there embarked on board thesteamer "for Marseilles direct," and so returned to England.