﻿THE 
  SPLENDOR 
  OF 
  ROME 
  

  

  By 
  Florence 
  Craig 
  Albrecht 
  

  

  Author 
  oe 
  "Austro-Italian 
  Mountain 
  Frontiers/" 
  "Channel 
  Ports 
  — 
  and 
  Some 
  Others, 
  

   Jacqueline/' 
  "Frontier 
  Cities 
  op 
  Italy/' 
  "London/' 
  etc., 
  in 
  the 
  

   National 
  Geographic 
  Magazine. 
  

  

  The 
  City 
  oE 
  

  

  WITH 
  the 
  name 
  of 
  Rome 
  there 
  

   comes 
  to 
  me 
  always 
  a 
  vision 
  of 
  

   wide-open 
  spaces 
  radiant 
  with 
  

   blinding 
  sunshine 
  and 
  of 
  great 
  bands 
  and 
  

   pools 
  of 
  velvety 
  purple 
  shadow. 
  There 
  are 
  

   no 
  half-tones 
  in 
  the 
  picture. 
  Everything 
  

   lies 
  bare 
  to 
  the 
  sun 
  or 
  cowers 
  in 
  deepest 
  

   shade. 
  Along 
  with 
  the 
  glare 
  and 
  the 
  

   shadows 
  is 
  the 
  splashing 
  of 
  many 
  foun- 
  

   tains, 
  the 
  sound 
  of 
  rushing 
  waters. 
  

  

  It 
  is 
  not 
  the 
  Tiber, 
  Rome's 
  turbid 
  river, 
  

   which 
  fills 
  the 
  air 
  with 
  music. 
  The 
  charm 
  

   of 
  the 
  Tiber 
  is 
  romantic 
  and 
  in 
  the 
  past. 
  

   That 
  "Father 
  Tiber 
  to 
  whom 
  the 
  Romans 
  

   pray" 
  exists 
  only 
  in 
  poetry 
  ; 
  the 
  river 
  of 
  

   today 
  is 
  almost 
  negligible 
  in 
  the 
  sum 
  of 
  

   Rome's 
  attractiveness, 
  while 
  ranking 
  high 
  

   among 
  her 
  menaces. 
  "Too 
  large 
  a 
  stream 
  

   to 
  be 
  harmless, 
  too 
  small 
  to 
  be 
  useful," 
  

   Rome 
  says 
  of 
  it 
  ; 
  not 
  altogether 
  fair, 
  per- 
  

   haps, 
  but 
  we 
  shall 
  reach 
  the 
  Tiber 
  again 
  

   and 
  again. 
  

  

  It 
  is 
  Rome's 
  fountains 
  that 
  engage 
  us 
  

   now. 
  No 
  one 
  goes 
  to 
  Rome 
  expectant 
  of 
  

   them 
  or 
  comes 
  away 
  to 
  forget. 
  At 
  first 
  un- 
  

   marked, 
  later 
  the 
  fairest 
  pictures 
  shrined 
  

   in 
  memory 
  show 
  the 
  flash 
  and 
  glitter 
  of 
  

   high-tossed 
  spray, 
  the 
  rush 
  and 
  plunge 
  of 
  

   heavy 
  streams, 
  the 
  shimmer 
  of 
  sleepy 
  

   pools. 
  Yet 
  they 
  are 
  but 
  tiny 
  bits 
  of 
  all 
  

   that 
  we 
  come 
  to 
  Rome 
  to 
  see 
  and, 
  going, 
  

   strive 
  to 
  remember. 
  

  

  ROME 
  IylNKS 
  US 
  WITH 
  ALL, 
  OTHF.R 
  CITIES 
  

  

  How 
  pitifully 
  inadequate 
  are 
  words, 
  

   how 
  futile, 
  where 
  book 
  upon 
  book 
  has 
  

   been 
  written 
  and 
  the 
  subject 
  but 
  just 
  

   begun. 
  Older 
  cities 
  there 
  are, 
  cities 
  that 
  

   in 
  their 
  day 
  were 
  just 
  as 
  great, 
  but 
  they 
  

   do 
  not 
  touch 
  us 
  as 
  does 
  Rome, 
  who 
  links 
  

   us 
  with 
  them. 
  

  

  It 
  was 
  Rome 
  who, 
  with 
  one 
  hand 
  yet 
  

   stretched 
  to 
  the 
  East, 
  raised 
  with 
  the 
  

   other 
  the 
  veil 
  that 
  shrouded 
  all 
  of 
  Europe 
  

   beyond 
  the 
  Alps, 
  who 
  brought 
  upon 
  the 
  

   stage 
  of 
  the 
  world 
  all 
  those 
  rude 
  tribes 
  

   from 
  which 
  our 
  race 
  is 
  sprung. 
  

  

  And 
  can 
  we 
  go 
  to 
  her 
  as 
  to 
  our 
  own 
  

   young 
  cities, 
  all 
  unprepared, 
  to 
  tarry 
  a 
  

   week, 
  a 
  day, 
  an 
  hour? 
  Not 
  if 
  we 
  will 
  

  

  have 
  anything 
  of 
  her 
  who 
  can 
  teach 
  every 
  

   one 
  of 
  us. 
  

  

  "I 
  shall 
  never 
  dare 
  to 
  tell 
  my 
  Latin 
  

   teacher 
  that 
  I 
  was 
  in 
  Rome," 
  said 
  the 
  

   president 
  of 
  a 
  western 
  university 
  as 
  he 
  

   stood 
  dazzled 
  in 
  the 
  Forum; 
  "I 
  should 
  

   have 
  to 
  confess 
  that 
  I 
  gave 
  it 
  three 
  days, 
  

   and 
  he 
  said 
  three 
  years 
  was 
  too 
  little." 
  

  

  Except 
  students, 
  there 
  are 
  few 
  who 
  can 
  

   give 
  years 
  to 
  any 
  city 
  but 
  their 
  own. 
  

   There 
  are 
  very 
  few 
  cities 
  in 
  which 
  so 
  

   much 
  can 
  be 
  learned 
  in 
  a 
  day 
  or 
  two 
  as 
  

   in 
  Rome 
  ; 
  in 
  ten 
  years 
  one 
  could 
  not 
  ex- 
  

   haust 
  it. 
  

  

  DISAPPOINTING 
  AT 
  FIRST 
  SIGHT 
  

  

  Yet 
  at 
  first 
  sight 
  Rome 
  is 
  disappoint- 
  

   ing. 
  So 
  new, 
  so 
  conventional, 
  so 
  ready- 
  

   made, 
  so 
  like 
  any 
  other 
  European 
  city, 
  

   with 
  smooth-paved, 
  sunny 
  streets, 
  monot- 
  

   onous 
  houses, 
  trolley 
  cars, 
  electric 
  lights, 
  

   hotels, 
  and 
  little 
  trace 
  of 
  those 
  seven 
  hills 
  

   we 
  came 
  so 
  far 
  to 
  see. 
  

  

  The 
  pity 
  is 
  one 
  enters 
  the 
  city 
  usually 
  

   upon 
  its 
  newest 
  side, 
  a 
  side 
  that 
  in 
  the 
  

   memory 
  of 
  living 
  man 
  was 
  all 
  villas 
  and 
  

   gardens. 
  One 
  should 
  come 
  in 
  by 
  motor, 
  

   at 
  the 
  north, 
  by 
  the 
  old 
  road 
  and 
  the 
  

   Porta 
  del 
  Popolo, 
  at 
  the 
  Pincian 
  Hill, 
  or 
  

   be 
  dropped 
  ever 
  so 
  gently 
  from 
  an 
  air- 
  

   plane 
  on 
  the 
  Janiculum, 
  the 
  ridge 
  west 
  

   of 
  the 
  Tiber, 
  and 
  see 
  Rome 
  first 
  as 
  a 
  

   whole, 
  as 
  one 
  may 
  from 
  these 
  points, 
  not 
  

   piecemeal, 
  as 
  one 
  does 
  arriving 
  by 
  train. 
  

  

  Yet 
  if 
  one 
  has 
  eyes 
  that 
  see, 
  even 
  here 
  

   one 
  may 
  be 
  brought 
  speedily 
  to 
  that 
  mood 
  

   of 
  loving 
  appreciation 
  which 
  all 
  visitors 
  

   to 
  Rome 
  sooner 
  or 
  later 
  attain. 
  In 
  the 
  

   noise 
  and 
  confusion 
  of 
  puffing 
  locomotives 
  

   stands 
  a 
  bit 
  of 
  Servius 
  Tullius* 
  wall 
  ; 
  in 
  

   the 
  piazza 
  opposite 
  is 
  the 
  remnant 
  of 
  

   Diocletian's 
  baths 
  reconstructed 
  into 
  a 
  

   church 
  by 
  Michael 
  Angelo 
  ; 
  all 
  those 
  fear- 
  

   fully 
  new 
  dwellings 
  beyond 
  cover 
  the 
  

   gardens 
  of 
  Maecenas, 
  where 
  Virgil 
  and 
  

   Horace 
  were 
  frequent 
  guests. 
  

  

  In 
  one 
  glance 
  we 
  link 
  with 
  our 
  own 
  these 
  

   wide-spread 
  epochs, 
  six 
  centuries 
  before 
  

   Christ, 
  His 
  own 
  time, 
  three, 
  and 
  fifteen 
  

   centuries 
  after 
  Him 
  — 
  and 
  that 
  is 
  Rome. 
  

  

  593 
  

  

  