Principles of General Chemistry 3Rd Edition Silberberg Solutions Manual Full Chapter PDF

Solution Manual for Principles of General Chemistry
3rd Edition Silberberg 0073402699 9780073402697

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CHAPTER 6 THERMOCHEMISTRY: ENERGY

FLOW AND CHEMICAL CHANGE
END–OF–CHAPTER PROBLEMS
6.1 No, an increase in temperature means that heat has been transferred to the surroundings, which makes q negative.
6.2 E = q + w = w, since q = 0.
Thus, the change in work equals the change in internal energy.
6.3 a) electric heater b) sound amplifier c) light bulb d) automobile alternator

e) battery (voltaic cell)
6.4 Heat energy; sound energy (impact)


Kinetic energy (falling text)

Potential energy (raised text)

Mechanical energy (raising of text)

Chemical energy (biological process to move muscles)
6.5 Plan: The change in a system’s energy is E = q + w. If the system receives heat, then its q final is greater than
q initial so q is positive. Since the system performs work, its w final < w initial so w is negative.
Solution:
E = q + w
E = (+425 J) + (–425 J) = 0 J
6.6 q + w = –255 cal + (–428 cal) = –683 cal
6.7 Plan: Convert 6.6x1010 J to the other units using conversion factors.
Solution:
C(s) + O 2 (g) → CO 2 (g) + 6.6x1010 J
(2.0 tons)
 1 kJ 
a) E (kJ) = (6.6 x 1010 J) = 6.6x107 kJ
 103 J 
 
6-1
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 1 cal  1 kcal 
b) E (kcal) = (6.6 x 1010 J)   = 1.577x107 = 1.6x107 kcal
 4.184 J   10 cal 
3
 1 Btu 
c) E (Btu) = (6.6 x 1010 J)  7 7
 = 6.256x10 = 6.3x10 Btu
 1055 J 
6.8 CaCO 3 (s) + 9.0x106 kJ → CaO(s) + CO 2 (g)

(5.0 tons)
 103 J 
a) E (J) = (9.0x106 kJ)   = 9.0x10 J
9
 1 kJ 
6-2
 103 J   1 cal 
b) E (cal) = (9.0x10 kJ) 
 1 kJ   4.184 J 
6
= 2.15105x109 = 2.2x109 cal
  
 10 J   1 Btu 
3
c) E (Btu) = (9.0x106 kJ)  6 6
  1055 J  = 8.5308x10 = 8.5x10 Btu
 1 kJ  
 103 cal   4.184 J 
6.9 E (J) = (4.1x10 Calorie) 
3

7 7
 = 1.7154x10 = 1.7x10 J
 1 Calorie  1 cal 
3
 10 cal   4.184 J   1 kJ 
E (kJ) = (4.1x103 Calorie) = 1.7154x104 = 1.7x104 kJ
 1 Calorie   1 cal   103 J 
   
6.10 Plan: An exothermic process releases heat and an endothermic process absorbs heat.
Solution:
a) Exothermic, the system (water) is releasing heat in changing from liquid to solid.
b) Endothermic, the system (water) is absorbing heat in changing from liquid to gas.
c) Exothermic, the process of digestion breaks down food and releases energy.
d) Exothermic, heat is released as a person runs and muscles perform work.
e) Endothermic, heat is absorbed as food calories are converted to body tissue.
f) Endothermic, the wood being chopped absorbs heat (and work).
g) Exothermic, the furnace releases heat from fuel combustion. Alternatively, if the system is defined as the air
in the house, the change is endothermic since the air’s temperature is increasing by the input of heat energy from
the furnace.
6.11 Absolute enthalpy values, like absolute energy values, are unknown.
6.12 Plan: An exothermic reaction releases heat, so the reactants have greater H (H initial ) than the products (H final ).
H = H final – H initial < 0.
Solution:
Reactants
H = (−), (exothermic)
Products
6.13
Products
H = (+), (endothermic)
Reactants
6.14 Plan: Combustion of hydrocarbons and related compounds require oxygen (and a heat catalyst) to yield
carbon dioxide gas, water vapor, and heat. Combustion reactions are exothermic. The freezing of liquid water is
an exothermic process as heat is removed from the water in the conversion from liquid to solid. An exothermic
reaction or process releases heat, so the reactants have greater H (H initial ) than the products (H final ).
6-3
Solution:
a) Combustion of ethane: 2C 2 H 6 (g) + 7O 2 (g) → 4CO 2 (g) + 6H 2 O(g) + heat
2C2H6 + 7O2 (initial)
4CO2 + 6H2O (final)
b) Freezing of water: H 2 O(l) → H 2 O(s) + heat

H2O(l) (initial)
Increasing, H
H2O(s) (final)
6.15 a) Na(s) + 1/2Cl 2 (g) → NaCl(s) + heat

Na(s) + 1/2Cl2(g)
 = (−) (exothermic)
NaCl(s)
b) C 6 H 6 (l) + heat → C 6 H 6 (g)

C6H6(g)
Increasing, H
C6H6(l)
6.16 Plan: Combustion of hydrocarbons and related compounds require oxygen (and a heat catalyst) to yield carbon
dioxide gas, water vapor, and heat. Combustion reactions are exothermic. An exothermic reaction releases heat, so
the reactants have greater H (H initial ) than the products (H final ). If heat is absorbed, the reaction is endothermic and
the products have greater H (H final ) than the reactants (H initial ).
Solution:
a) 2CH 3 OH(l) + 3O 2 (g) → 2CO 2 (g) + 4H 2 O(g) + heat
2CH3OH + 3O2 (initial)
2CO2 + 4H2O (final)
6-4
b) Nitrogen dioxide, NO 2 , forms from N 2 and O 2 .
1/2N 2 (g) + O 2 (g) + heat → NO 2 (g)
NO2 (final)
1/2N2 + O2 (initial)
6.17 a) CO 2 (s) + heat → CO 2 (g)

CO2(g)
Increasing, H
CO2(s)
b) SO 2 (g) + 1/2O 2 (g) → SO 3 (g) + heat

SO2(g) + 1/2O2(g)
Increasing, H
SO3(g)
6.18 Plan: Recall that q sys is positive if heat is absorbed by the system (endothermic) and negative if heat is released
by the system (exothermic). Since E = q + w, the work must be considered in addition to q sys to find ΔE sys .
Solution:
a) This is a phase change from the solid phase to the gas phase. Heat is absorbed by the system so q sys is positive
(+).
b) The system is expanding in volume as more moles of gas exist after the phase change than were present before
the phase change. So the system has done work of expansion and w is negative. ΔE sys = q + w. Since q is
positive and w is negative, the sign of ΔE sys cannot be predicted. It will be positive if q > w and negative if
q < w.
c) ΔE univ = 0. If the system loses energy, the surroundings gain an equal amount of energy. The sum of the
energy of the system and the energy of the surroundings remains constant.
6.19 a) There is a volume decrease; V final < V initial so ΔV is negative. Since w sys = –PΔV, w is positive, +.
b) ∆H sys is – as heat has been removed from the system to liquefy the gas.
c) ∆E sys = q + w. Since q is negative and w is positive, the sign of ΔE sys and ΔE surr cannot be predicted. ΔE sys
will be positive and ΔE surr will be negative if w > q and ΔE sys will be negative and ΔE surr will be positive if
w < q.
6.20 To determine the specific heat capacity of a substance, you need its mass, the heat added (or lost), and the change
in temperature.
6.21 Specific heat capacity is an intensive property; it is defined on a per gram basis. The specific heat capacity of
a particular substance has the same value, regardless of the amount of substance present.
6-5
6.22 Plan: The heat required to raise the temperature of water is found by using the equation
q = c x mass x T. The specific heat capacity, c water , is found in Table 6.2. Because the Celsius degree is the same
size as the Kelvin degree, T = 100°C – 25°C = 75°C = 75 K.
Solution:
 J 
q (J) = c x mass x T =  4.184  ( 22.0 g )( 75 K ) = 6903.6 = 6.9x10 J
3
 g K
 J 
6.23 q (J) = c x mass x T =  2.087  ( 0.10 g ) ( ( −75 − 10.) K ) = –17.7395 = –18 J
 g K
6.24 Plan: Use the relationship q = c x mass x T. We know the heat (change kJ to J), the specific heat capacity, and
the mass, so T can be calculated. Once T is known, that value is added to the initial temperature to find the
final temperature.
Solution:
q (J) = c x mass x T T initial = 13.00°C T final = ? mass = 295 g c = 0.900 J/g•K
 103 J 
q = ( 75.0 kJ ) = 7.50x104 J
 1 kJ 
 
7.50x104 J = (0.900 J/g•K)(295 g)(T)
T =
( 7.50x10 J )
4
 0.900 J 
( 295 g )  
 gK 
T = 282.4859 K = 282.4859°C (Because the Celsius degree is the same size as the Kelvin degree, T is the
same in either temperature unit.)
T = T final – T initial
T final = T + T initial
T final = 282.4859°C + 13.00°C = 295.49 = 295°C
6.25 q (J) = c x mass x T

–688 J = (2.42 J/g•K)(27.7 g)(T)
(T) =
( −688 J ) = –10.26345 K = –10.26345°C
 2.42 J 
( 27.7 g )
 
 gK 
T = T final – T initial
T initial = T final – T
T initial = 32.5°C – (–10.26345°C) = 42.76345 = 42.8°C
6.26 Plan: Since the bolts have the same mass and same specific heat capacity, and one must cool as the other heats
(the heat lost by the “hot” bolt equals the heat gained by the “cold” bolt), the final temperature is an average of the
two initial temperatures.
Solution:
 (T1 + T2 )   (100.C + 55C ) 
  =   = 77.5°C
2 2
6.27 –q lost = q gained

– 2(mass)(c Cu )(T final – 105)°C = (mass)(c Cu )(T final – 45)°C
– 2(T final – 105)°C = (T final – 45)°C
2(105°C) – 2T final = T final – 45°C
210°C + 45°C = T final + 2T final = 3T final
(255°C)/3 = T final = 85.0°C
6-6
6.28 Plan: The heat lost by the water originally at 85°C is gained by the water that is originally at 26°C. Therefore
–q lost = q gained . Both volumes are converted to mass using the density.
Solution:
 1.00 g   1.00 g 
Mass (g) of 75 mL = ( 75 mL )  = 75 g Mass (g) of 155 mL = (155 mL )  = 155 g
 1 mL   1 mL 
–q lost = q gained
c x mass x T (85°C water)= c x mass x T (26°C water)

– (4.184 J/g°C)(75 g)(T final – 85)°C =(4.184 J/g°C)(155 g)(T final – 26)°C
– (75 g)(T final – 85)°C = (155 g) (T final – 26)°C
6375 – 75T final = 155T final – 4030
6375 + 4030 = 155T final + 75T final
10405 = 230.T final
T final = (10405/230.) = 45.24 = 45°C
6.29 –q lost = q gained

– [24.4 mL(1.00 g/mL)](4.184 J/g°C)(23.5 – 35.0)°C = (mass)(4.184 J/g°C)(23.5 – 18.2)°C
– (24.4)(23.5 – 35.0) = (mass)(23.5 – 18.2)
– (24.4)(–11.5) = (mass)(5.3)
280.6 = (mass)(5.3)
52.943 g = mass
 1 mL 
Volume (mL) = ( 52.943 g )   = 52.943 = 53 mL
 1.00 g 
6.30 Benzoic acid is C 6 H 5 COOH, and will be symbolized as HBz.

–q reaction = q water + q calorimeter
 1 mol HBz   −3227 kJ   103 J 
–q reaction = – (1.221 g HBz )  
4
  1 kJ  = 3.226472x10 J
 122.12 g HBz   1 mol HBz   
q water = c x mass x T = 4.184 J/g°C x 1200 g x T
q calorimeter = C x T = 1365 J/°C x T
–q reaction = q water + q calorimeter
3.226472x104 J = 4.184 J/g°C x 1200 g x T + 1365 J/°C x T
4
3.226472x10 J = 5020.8(T) + 1365(T)
4
3.226472x10 J = 6385.8(T)
T = 3.226472x10 /6385.8 = 5.052573 = 5.053°C
4
6.31 a) Energy will flow from Cu (at 100.0°C) to Fe (at 0.0°C).

b) To determine the final temperature, the heat capacity of the calorimeter must be known.
c) – q Cu = q Fe + q calorimeter assume q calorimeter = 0.
– q Cu = q Fe + 0
– (20.0 g Cu)(0.387 J/g°C)(T final – 100.0)°C = (30.0 g Fe)(0.450 J/g°C)(T final – 0.0)°C + 0.0 J
– (20.0 g)(0.387 J/g°C)(T final – 100.0°C) = (30.0 g)(0.450 J/g°C)(T final – 0.0°C)
– (7.74)(T final – 100.0) = (13.5)(T final – 0.0)
774 – 7.74 T final = 13.5T final
774 = (13.5 + 7.74) T final = 21.24T final
T final = 774/21.24 = 36.44068 = 36.4°C
6.32 The reaction is: 2KOH(aq) + H 2 SO 4 (aq) → K 2 SO 4 (aq) + 2H 2 O(l)

q (kJ) = (25.0 + 25.0) mL(1.00 g/mL)(4.184 J/g°C)(30.17 – 23.50)°C(1 kJ/103 J) = 1.395364 kJ
(The temperature increased so the heat of reaction is exothermic.)
Amount (moles) of H 2 SO 4 = (25.0 mL)(0.500 mol H 2 SO 4 /L)(10–3 L/1 mL) = 0.0125 mol H 2 SO 4
Amount (moles) of KOH = (25.0 mL)(1.00 mol KOH/L)(10 –3 L/1 mL) = 0.0250 mol KOH
The moles show that both H 2 SO 4 and KOH are limiting.
The enthalpy change could be calculated in any of the following ways:
6-7
H = –1.395364 kJ/0.0125 mol H 2 SO 4 = – 111.62912 = – 112 kJ/mol H 2 SO 4
H = –1.395364 kJ/0.0250 mol KOH = –55.81456 = –55.8 kJ/mol KOH
(Per mole of K 2 SO 4 gives the same value as per mole of H 2 SO 4 , and per mole of H 2 O gives the same
value as per mole of KOH.)
6.33 Plan: Recall that H is positive for an endothermic reaction in which heat is absorbed, while H is negative for
an
exothermic reaction in which heat is released.
Solution:
The reaction has a positive H rxn , because this reaction requires the input of energy to break the oxygen-oxygen
bond in O 2 :
O 2 (g) + energy → 2O(g)
6.34 Plan: Recall that H is positive for an endothermic reaction in which heat is absorbed, while H is negative for
an
exothermic reaction in which heat is released.
Solution:
As a substance changes from the gaseous state to the liquid state, energy is released so H would be negative for
the condensation of 1 mol of water. The value of H for the vaporization of 2 mol of water would be twice the
value of H for the condensation of 1 mol of water vapor but would have an opposite sign (+H).
H 2 O(g) → H 2 O(l) + Energy 2H 2 O(l) + Energy → 2H 2 O(g)
H condensation = (–) H vaporization = (+)2[H condensation ]
The enthalpy for 1 mole of water condensing would be opposite in sign to and one-half the value for the
conversion of 2 moles of liquid H 2 O to H 2 O vapor.
6.35 Plan: Recall that H is positive for an endothermic reaction in which heat is absorbed, while H is negative for an
exothermic reaction in which heat is released. The H rxn is specific for the reaction as written, meaning that
20.2 kJ is released when one-eighth of a mole of sulfur reacts. Use the ratio between moles of sulfur and H to
convert between amount of sulfur and heat released.
Solution:
a) This reaction is exothermic because H is negative.
b) Because H is a state function, the total energy required for the reverse reaction, regardless of how the change
occurs, is the same magnitude but different sign of the forward reaction. Therefore, H = +20.2 kJ.
 −20.2 kJ 
= 2.6 mol S = –420.16 = –4.2x102 kJ
c) H rxn ( )
 (1/ 8 ) mol S 8 
8  
d) The mass of S 8 requires conversion to moles and then a calculation identical to part c) can be performed.
 1 mol S8   −20.2 kJ 
= 25.0 g S = –15.7468 = –15.7 kJ
H rxn ( 8 ) 
(1/ 8) mol S 
256.56 g S
 8  8 
6.36 MgCO 3 (s) → MgO(s) + CO 2 (g) H rxn = 117.3 kJ

a) Absorbed
b) H rxn (reverse) = –117.3 kJ
 −117.3 kJ 
c) H rxn = ( 5.35 mol CO 2 )   = –627.555 = –628 kJ
 1 mol CO 2 
 1 mol CO  −117.3 kJ 
= 35.5 g CO = –94.618 = –94.6 kJ
( )
2
d) H rxn 2
 
 44.01 g CO 2  1 mol CO 2 
6-8
6.37 Plan: A thermochemical equation is a balanced equation that includes the heat of reaction. Since heat is absorbed
in this reaction, H will be positive. Convert the mass of NO to moles and use the ratio between NO and H to
find the heat involved for this amount of NO.
Solution:
6-9
a) 1/2N 2 (g) + 1/2O 2 (g) → (g) H = 90.29 kJ
 1 mol NO  −90.29 kJ 
= 3.50 g NO = –10.5303 = –10.5 kJ
b) H rxn ( )  
 30.01 g NO  1 mol NO 
6.38 a) KBr(s) → K(s) + 1/2Br 2 (l) H rxn = 394 kJ

 10 g   1 mol KBr  −394 kJ 
3
b) H rxn = (10.0 kg KBr ) = –3.3109x10 4= –3.31x10 4kJ
 1 kg   119.00 g KBr  1 mol KBr 
   
6.39 Plan: For the reaction written, 2 moles of H 2 O 2 release 196.1 kJ of energy upon decomposition. Use this
ratio to convert between the given amount of reactant and the amount of heat released. The amount of H 2 O 2 must
be converted from kg to g to moles.
Solution:
2H 2 O 2 (l) → 2H 2 O(l) + O 2 (g) H rxn = –196.1 kJ
 103 g   1 mol H 2 O 2  −196.1 kJ 
Heat (kJ) = q = ( 652 kg H 2 O 2 )  = –1.87915x10 = –1.88x10 kJ
6 6
  
 1 kg   34.02 g H 2 O 2  2 mol H 2 O 2 
6.40 For the reaction written, 1 mole of B 2 H 6 releases 755.4 kJ of energy upon reaction.
B 2 H 6 (g) + 6Cl 2 (g) → 2BCl 3 (g) + 6HCl(g) H rxn = –755.4 kJ
 10 g  1 mol B2 H6  −755.4 kJ 
3
Heat (kJ) = q = (1 kg ) 
4 4
1 kg  27.67 g B H  1 mol B H  = –2.73003x10 = –2.730x10 kJ/kg
  2 6  2 6 
6.41 Plan: A thermochemical equation is a balanced equation that includes the heat of reaction. Heat is released in this
reaction so H is negative. Use the ratio between H and moles of C 2 H 4 to find the amount of C 2 H 4 that must
react to produce the given quantity of heat.
Solution:
a) C 2 H 4 (g) + 3O 2 (g) → 2CO 2 (g) + 2H 2 O(g) H rxn = –1411 kJ
 1 mol C H  28.05 g C H 
b) Mass (g) of C 2 H 4 = ( −70.0 kJ )  2 4

2 4
 = 1.39157 = 1.39 g C 2 H 4
 −1411 kJ  1 mol C2 H 4 
6.42 a) C 12 H 22 O 11 (s) + 12O 2 (g) → 12CO 2 (g) + 11H 2 O(g) H rxn = –5.64x103 kJ
 1 mol C H O   −5.64x103 kJ 
b) Heat (kJ) = q = (1 g C 12H 22O 11)  12 22 11
  = –16.47677 = –16.5 kJ/g

 342.30 g C12 H 22 O11   1 mol C12 H 22 O11 
6.43 Hess’s law: H rxn is independent of the number of steps or the path of the reaction.
6.44 Plan: To obtain the overall reaction, add the first reaction to the reverse of the second. When the second reaction
is reversed, the sign of its enthalpy change is reversed from positive to negative.
Solution:
Ca(s) + 1/2O 2 (g) → CaO(s) H = –635.1 kJ
CaO(s) + CO 2 (g) → CaCO 3 (s) H = –178.3 kJ (reaction is reversed)
Ca(s) + 1/2O 2 (g) + CO 2 (g) → CaCO 3 (s) H = –813.4 kJ
6.45 2NOCl(g) → 2NO(g) + Cl 2 (g) H = –2(–38.6 kJ)

2NO(g) → N 2 (g) + O 2 (g) H = –2(90.3 kJ)
2NOCl(g) → N 2 (g) + O 2 (g) + Cl 2 (g) H = 77.2 kJ + (– 180.6 kJ) = –103.4 kJ
6-10
6.46 Plan: Add the two equations, canceling substances that appear on both sides of the arrow. When matching the
equations with the arrows in the Figure, remember that a positive H corresponds to an arrow pointing up while a
negative H corresponds to an arrow pointing down.
6-11
Solution:
1) N 2 (g) + O 2 (g) → 2NO(g) H = 180.6 kJ
2) 2NO(g) + O 2 (g) → 2NO 2 (g) H = –114.2 kJ
3) N 2 (g) + 2O 2 (g) → 2NO 2 (g) H rxn = +66.4 kJ

In Figure P6.46, A represents reaction 1 with a larger amount of energy absorbed, B represents reaction 2 with
a smaller amount of energy released, and C represents reaction 3 as the sum of A and B.
6.47 1) P 4 (s) + 6Cl 2 (g) → 4PCl 3 (g) H 1 = –1148 kJ
2) 4PCl 3 (g) + 4Cl 2 (g) → 4PCl 5 (g) H 2 = – 460 kJ
3) P 4 (s) + 10Cl 2 (g) → 4PCl 5 (g) H overall = –1608 kJ

Equation 1) = B, equation 2) = C, equation 3) = A
6.48 C (diamond) + O 2 (g) → CO 2 (g) H = –395.4 kJ

CO 2 (g) → C(graphite) + O 2 (g) H = –(–393.5 kJ)
C(diamond) → C(graphite) H = – 1.9 kJ
6.49 The standard heat of reaction, H rxn , is the enthalpy cha nge for any reaction where all subst ances are in their
standard states. The standard heat of formation, H f , is the enthalpy change that accompanies the formation of
one mole of a compound in its standard state from elements in their standard states. Standard state is 1 atm for
gases, 1 M for solutes, and the most stable form for liquids and solids. Standard state does not include a specific
temperature, but a temperature must be specified in a table of standard values.
6.50 Plan: H f is for the reaction that shows the formation of one mole of compound from its elements in their
standard states.
Solution:
a) 1/2Cl 2 (g) + Na(s) → NaCl(s) The element chlorine occurs as Cl 2 , not Cl.
b) H 2 (g) + 1/2O 2 (g) → H 2 O(g) The element hydrogen exists as H 2 , not H, and the formation of water is written
with water as the product.
c) No changes
6.51 Plan: Formation equations show the formation of one mole of compound from its elements. The elements must be
in their most stable states ( H f = 0).
Solution:
a) Ca(s) + Cl 2 (g) → CaCl 2 (s)
b) Na(s) + 1/2H 2 (g) + C(graphite) + 3/2O 2 (g) → NaHCO 3 (s)
c) C(graphite) + 2Cl 2 (g) → CCl 4 (l)
d) 1/2H 2 (g) + 1/2N 2 (g) + 3/2O 2 (g) → HNO 3 (l)
6.52 a) 1/2H 2 (g) + 1/2I 2 (s) → HI(g)

b) Si(s) + 2F 2 (g) → SiF 4 (g)
c) 3/2O 2 (g) → O 3 (g)
d) 3Ca(s) + 1/2P 4 (s) + 4O 2 (g) → Ca 3 (PO 4 ) 2 (s)
6.53 Plan: The enthalpy change of a reaction is the sum of the heats of formation of the products minus the sum of the
heats of formation of the reactants. Since the H f values (Appendix B) are reported as energy per one mole, use
the appropriate stoichiometric coefficient to reflect the higher number of moles.
6-12
Solution:
H rxn = m H f (products) – n H f (reactants)
a) H rxn = {2 H f [SO 2 (g)] + 2 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {2 H f [H 2 S(g)] + 3 H f [O 2 (g)]}
= [(2 mol)(–296.8 kJ/mol) + (2 mol)(–241.826 kJ/mol)] – [(2 mol)(–20.2 kJ/mol) + (3 mol)(0.0 kJ/mol)]
= –1036.9 kJ
b) The balanced equation is CH 4 (g) + 4Cl 2 (g) → CCl 4 (l) + 4HCl(g)
H rxn = {1 H f [CCl 4 (l)] + 4 H f [HCl(g)]} – {1 H f [CH 4 (g)] + 4 H f [Cl 2 (g)]}
H rxn = [(1 mol)(–139 kJ/mol) + (4 mol)(–92.31 kJ/mol)] – [(1 mol)(–74.87 kJ/mol) + (4 mol)(0 kJ/mol)]
= –433 kJ
6.54 H rxn = m H f (products) – n H f (reactants)
a) H rxn = {1 H f [SiF 4 (g)] + 2 H f [H 2 O(l)]} – {1 H f [SiO 2 (s)] + 4 H f [HF(g)]}

= [(1 mol)(–1614.9 kJ/mol) + (2 mol)(–285.840 kJ/mol)]
– [(1 mol)(–910.9 kJ/mol) + (4 mol)(–273 kJ/mol)]
= –184 kJ
b) 2C 2 H 6 (g) + 7O 2 (g) → 4CO 2 (g) + 6H 2 O(g)
H rxn = {4 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 6 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {2 H f [C 2 H 6 (g)] + 7 H f [ O 2 (g)]}
= [(4 mol)(–393.5 kJ/mol) + (6 mol)(–241.826 kJ/mol)] – [(2 mol)(–84.667 kJ/mol) + (7 mol)(0 kJ/mol)]
= –2855.6 kJ (or –1427.8 kJ for reaction of 1 mol of C 2 H 6 )
heats of formation of the reactants. Since the H fvalues (Appendix B) are reported as energy per one mole, use the
appropriate stoichiometric coefficient to reflect the higher number of moles. In this case, H isrxn
known and
H f of CuO must be calculated.
Solution:
Cu 2 O(s) + 1/2O 2 (g) → 2CuO(s) H rxn = –146.0 kJ
H rxn = {2 H f [CuO(s)]} – {1 H f [Cu 2 O(s)] + 1/2 H f [O 2 (g)]}

–146.0 kJ = {(2 mol) H f [CuO(s)]} – {(1 mol)(–168.6 kJ/mol) + (1/2 mol)(0 kJ/mol)}
–146.0 kJ = 2 mol H f [CuO(s)] + 168.6 kJ
314.6 kJ
H f [CuO(s)] = − = –157.3 kJ/mol
2 mol
6.56 H rxn = m H f (products) – n H f (reactants)
C 2 H 2 (g) + 5/2O 2 (g) → 2CO 2 (g) + H 2 O(g) H rxn = –1255.8 kJ
H rxn = {2 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 1 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {1 H f [C 2 H 2 (g)] + 5/2 H f [O 2 (g)]}

–1255.8 kJ = {(2 mol)(–393.5 kJ/mol) + (1 mol)(–241.826 kJ/mol)}
– {(1 mol) H f [C 2 H 2 (g)] + (5/2 mol)(0.0 kJ/mol)}
–1255.8 kJ = –787.0 kJ – 241.8 kJ – (1 mol) H f [C 2 H 2 (g)]
−227.0 kJ
H f [C 2 H 2 (g)] = = 227.0 kJ/mol
−1 mol
6-13
6.57 a) 4C 3 H 5 (NO 3 ) 3 (l) → 6N 2 (g) + 10H 2 O(g) + 12CO 2 (g) + O 2 (g)
b) H rxn ={6 H f [N 2 (g)] + 10 H f [H 2 O(g)] + 12 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 1 H f [O 2 (g)]} – {4 H f [C 3 H 5 (NO 3 ) 3 (l)]}
–2.29 x 104 kJ= {(6 mol)(0 kJ/mol) + (10 mol)(–241.826 kJmol) + (12 mol)(–393.5 kJ/mol) + (1 mol)(0 kJmol)}
– {(4 mol) H f [C 3 H 5 (NO 3 ) 3 (l)]}
–2.29 x 104 kJ = –2418 kJ – 4722 kJ – (4 mol) H f [C 3 H 5 (NO 3 ) 3 (l)]
−15760 kJ
H f [C 3 H 5 (NO 3 ) 3 (l)] = = 3940 kJ/mol
−4 mol
6.58 Plan: The enthalpy change of a reaction is the sum of the heats of formation of the products minus the sum of
the heats of formation of the reactants. Since the Hf values (Appendix B) are reported as energy per one mole,
use the appropriate stoichiometric coefficient to reflect the higher number of moles. Hess’s law can also be used
to calculate the enthalpy of reaction. In part b), rearrange equations 1) and 2) to give the equation wanted.
Reverse the first equation (changing the sign of H rxn ) and multiply the coefficients (and H rxn ) of the second
reaction by 2.
Solution:
2PbSO 4 (s) + 2H 2 O(l) → Pb(s) + PbO 2 (s) + 2H 2 SO 4 (l)
a) H rxn = {1 H f [Pb(s)] + 1 H f [PbO 2 (s)] + 2 H f [H 2 SO 4 (l)]}
– {2 H f [PbSO 4 (s)] + 2 H f [H 2 O(l)]}
= [(1 mol)(0 kJ/mol) + (1 mol)(–276.6 kJmol) + (2 mol)(–813.989 kJ/mol)]
– [(2 mol)(–918.39 kJ/mol) + (2 mol)(–285.840 kJ/mol)]
= 503.9 kJ
b) Use Hess’s law:
PbSO 4 (s) → Pb(s) + PbO 2 (s) + 2SO 3 (g) H rxn = –(–768 kJ) Equation has been reversed.
2SO 3 (g) + 2H 2 O (l) → 2H 2 SO 4 (l) H rxn = 2(–132 kJ)
2PbSO 4 (s) + 2H 2 O(l) → Pb(s) + PbO 2 (s) + 2H 2 SO 4 (l) H rxn = 504 kJ
heats of formation of the reactants. Since the Hf values (Appendix B) are reported as energy per one mole, use
the appropriate stoichiometric coefficient to reflect the higher number of moles. Convert the mass of stearic acid to
moles and use the ratio between stearic acid and H rxn to find the heat involved for this amount of acid. For part
d), use the kcal/g of fat relationship calculated in part c) to convert 11.0 g of fat to total kcal and compare to
the 100. Cal amount.
Solution:
a) C 18 H 36 O 2 (s) + 26O 2 (g) → 18CO 2 (g) + 18H 2 O(g)
b) H rxn = m H f (products) – n H f (reactants)
H rxn = {18 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 18 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {1 H f [C 18 H 36 O 2 (s)] + 26 H f [O 2 (g)]}
= [(18 mol)(–393.5 kJ/mol) + (18 mol)(–241.826 kJ/mol)] – [(1 mol)(–948 kJ/mol) + (26 mol)(0 kJ/mol)]
= –10,487.868 = –10,488 kJ
 1 mol C H O  −10, 487.868 kJ 
c) q (kJ) = (1.00 g C18 H36 O 2 )  18 36 2
  = –36.8681 = –36.9 kJ
 284.47 C18 H36 O 2  1 mol C18 H36 O 2 
 1 kcal 
q (kcal) = ( −36.8681 kJ )   = –8.811688 = –8.81 kcal
 4.184 kJ 
6-14
 −8.811688 kcal 
d) q (kcal) = (11.0 g fat ) = 96.9286 = 96.9 kcal
 
 1.0 g fat 
Since 1 kcal = 1 Cal, 96.9 kcal = 96.9 Cal. The calculated calorie content is consistent with the package
information.
6.60 Plan: Use the ideal gas law, PV = nRT, to calculate the volume of one mole of helium at each temperature.
Then use the given equation for ΔE to find the change in internal energy. The equation for work, w = –PΔV, is
needed for part c), and q P = ΔE + PΔV is used for part d). For part e), recall that ΔH = q P .
Solution:
nRT
a) PV = nRT or V =
P
T = 273 + 15 = 288 K and T = 273 + 30 = 303 K
 L•atm 
 0.0821 mol•K ( 288 K )
nRT =   = 23.6448 = 23.6 L/mol
Initial volume (L) = V =
P (1.00 atm )
 L•atm 
 0.0821 mol • K ( 303 K )
nRT =   = 24.8763 = 24.9 L/mol
Final volume (L) = V =
P
(1.00 atm )
b) Internal energy is the sum of the potential and kinetic energies of each He atom in the system (the balloon). The
energy of one mole of helium atoms can be described as a function of temperature, E = 3/2nRT, where n = 1 mole.
Therefore, the internal energy at 15°C and 30°C can be calculated. The inside back cover lists values of R with
different units.
E = 3/2nRT = (3/2)(1.00 mol) (8.314 J/mol•K)(303 – 288)K = 187.065 = 187 J
c) When the balloon expands as temperature rises, the balloon performs PV work. However, the problem specifies
that pressure remains constant, so work done on the surroundings by the balloon is defined by the equation:
w = –PV. When pressure and volume are multiplied together, the unit is L•atm, so a conversion factor is needed
to convert work in units of L•atm to joules.
 101.3 J 
w = –PV = − (1.00 atm )( (24.8763 − 23.6448) L )   = –124.75 = –1.2x10 J
2
 1 L•atm 
d) q P = E + PV = (187.065 J) + (124.75 J) = 311.815 = 3.1x10 J
2
e) H = q P = 310 J.
f) When a process occurs at constant pressure, the change in heat energy of the system can be described by a state
function called enthalpy. The change in enthalpy equals the heat (q) lost at constant pressure: H = E + PV =
E – w = (q + w) – w = q P
6.61 a) Respiration:
C 6 H 12 O 6 (s) + 6O 2 (g) → 6CO 2 (g) + 6H 2 O(g)
= {6 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 6 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {1 H f [C 6 H 12 O 6 (s)] + 6 H f [O 2 (g)]}
= [(6 mol)(–393.5 kJ/mol) + (6 mol)(–241.826 kJ/mol)] – [(1 mol)(–1273.3 kJ/mol) + (6 mol)(0.0 kJ/mol)]
= –2538.656 = – 2538.7 kJ
Fermentation:
C 6 H 12 O 6 (s) → 2CO 2 (g) + 2CH 3 CH 2 OH(l)
H rxn = {2 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 2 H f [CH 3 CH 2 OH(l)]} – [1 H f [C 6 H 12 O 6 (s)]}
= [(2 mol)(–393.5 kJ/mol) + (2 mol)(–277.63 kJ/mol)] – [(1 mol)(–1273.3 kJ/mol)] = –68.96 = – 69.0 kJ
b) Combustion of ethanol:
CH 3 CH 2 OH(l) + 3O 2 (g) → 2CO 2 (g) + 3H 2 O(g)
H rxn = {2 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 3 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {1 H f [CH 3 CH 2 OH(l)] + 3 H f [O 2 (g)]}
6-15
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Roman pictures
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and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
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you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Roman pictures
Author: Percy Lubbock
Release date: October 6, 2023 [eBook #71818]
Language: English
Original publication: NYC: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1923
Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMAN

PICTURES ***
FONTANA DELLE TARTARUGHE
ROMAN PICTURES
By
PERCY LUBBOCK
Author of Earlham & The Craft of Fiction
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Made and printed in Great Britain by Charles Whittingham and Griggs
(Printers), Ltd., London.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. FONTANA DELLE TARTARUGHE 9

A lonely young pilgrim, Deering, a citizen of the world, his
Roman accent, the English ghetto, the real Rome, plump but elegant,
the newest culture, the raw world, the way to reality, Roman
pictures.
II. VIA NAZIONALE 23

Crowded tables, Mr. Bannock, the pride of the artist, a grievance,
the young dancer, coils of oratory, tribute to Deering, Jaff’s
sweetheart, Edna’s way, college style, the report of Buffalo, a
substantial Briton.
III. PIAZZA DELLA CANCELLERIA 38

Near the Vatican, the company of the priestcraft, the palace and
the cardinal, Cooksey, secrets of the backstairs, Father Jenkins’s
joke, Amerigo, Cooksey’s profanity, his rebuke to the stranger,
inside the fortress, a gentleman of feeling.
IV. ST. PETER’S 52

An early reveller, the hum of the pilgrims, a faltering cheer, Father
Holt, a secret society, Lady Mullinger, poor Charlotte, a very great
lady, finer shades, homage to Rome, Rome itself.
V. VIA GIULIA 65
Mr. Fitch, the Cheltenham furniture, the seminarist, Maundy’s
fancy, the path to Rome, the burnt sonnet, Gina, historical research,
the golden evenings, a point of ritual, art in the void, an uneasy
neophyte.
VI. VILLA BORGHESE 79

An aged relic, Teresa and Berta, a fluent antiphon, some English
speaking, troubles of a patriot, country days, the Virginian
sculptress, Luigi, a gentleman in Rome, precious refinements, a
chance worth seizing, Rome the inexhaustible.
VII. VIA DELLA PURIFICAZIONE 94

A tangle of byways, the medieval challenge, Teresa at home, Mr.
Daponte, Rome on the house-tops, Teresa in London, English
freedom, Luigi on Rome, the end of his chances, a spoilt tea-party, a
prospect of Rome.
VIII. ALBANO 107

A day in the country, Teresa’s party, an English ramble, mother
and child, Mimi in society, Olga and the arts, the forgotten
pensioners, the Russian waif, despair and disillusion, a page of
Dostoevsky, a dusty road-side, the Virgilian forest.
IX. CASTEL GANDOLFO 121

Fräulein Dahl, a piece of nature, an Arcadian walk, Erda’s villa,
the great saloon, Miss Gilpin, the accent of Dante, a woman of
letters, the clever touch, a reposeful friend, the accent of Dresden,
Erda in solitude.
X. VIA SISTINA 135

Deering again, the Clarksons, privileges of travel, Mr. Bashford, a
cousin of the Marshams, golf at Torquay, the true Ruskin, an English
babe, the sheep in the bunker, Bashford’s sort, England in Rome.
XI. PIAZZA NAVONA 149

Miss Gainsborough, Lady Mullinger again, a sedulous Roman, the
old guard, majestic wrath, the imperial race-course, a British
monument,
XII. CORSO 163

A sumptuous background, familiar faces, Miss Gadge, the chant of
the pilgrims, things Franciscan, a woman and an artist, chords of the
heart, the plane of art, the youth Pole, Mr. Champerdown, a Jesuit in
a drawing-room, the moon of May, the city gate.
XIII. THE FORUM 178

Julia’s discovery, the Professor, an inspired lecture, the origin of
Rome, Mrs. Rollesby’s attack, poetic imagination, privilege of a
scholar, the buried statue, the Professor’s secret, a divided audience,
a single-minded pilgrim.
XIV. VIA MARGUTTA 191

A studio of romance, the old Bohemian, pictures and friends, the
study of type, the eagle-feather, an artist’s wife, an honest
tradesman, dreams of an artist, business and a studio-chat, a blander
age, the light of the great days, worldly protection.
XV. VIA DELLE BOTTEGHE OSCURE 205

The great name, the Marchesa at home, Roman guile, the
Principessa, the rustle of expense, Miss Gilpin again, Madame de
Baltasar, the knightly Latin, a young barbarian, a wonder of art,
English daylight, Deering’s stroke, back to the tortoises, the end of
the quest.
ROMAN PICTURES
I. FONTANA DELLE TARTARUGHE
I FOUND myself loitering by that pretty little Fountain of the Tortoises, not
for the first time; but this time (it was an afternoon of late April, long years
ago) I looked stupidly at the boys and the tortoises and the dripping water,
with a wish in my mind for something more. But what? I had drifted hither
and thither about Rome, from the Gate of the People to the Baths of
Caracalla—drifted day after day in my solitude through a month of April
more divinely blue and golden than the first spring-days of the world; and
whether I was in the body or out of the body I scarcely knew, for I moved in
a great bubble of imagination that I had never known the like of in all the
years (perhaps twenty) of my life before I came to Rome. I had escaped from
the poor chamber of myself; for the imagination I dreamed and revelled in
was surely none of my own. It was of the spirit of all time, livelier, lovelier
than I could say, a power and a freedom that a rather lean young soul,
ignorantly aspiring, may enter into and take possession of unconsciously,
without an effort—in Rome.
But I do remember lingering about the Fountain of the Tortoises at last,
between sun and shadow, with a wish that something now, something or
some one, would break into my solitude and my dream; not that I was tired
of either, but because my dream and my solitude would be still more
beautiful if I could look at them for an hour across an interval, across the
kind of division that is created by—yes, exactly!—by the sight to which I
presently raised my eyes, turning away from the dapple and ripple of the
fountain. A young man, passing across the square, met my blank gaze at this
moment and suddenly threw out a sign of recognition; and I saw with
surprise that it was my precious Deering, of whose presence in Rome I had
been quite unaware. Deering it was!—after four or five lonely weeks, in
which I had never happened to see a face that I knew, it was Deering who
linked me to the real world again by crossing the Square of the Tortoises at
that hour of that afternoon. I had left my shining bubble in a flash (he hadn’t
noticed it) and joined hands with common life.
We weren’t really on terms of intimacy; but in the strangeness of Rome
our little English acquaintance had the air of a cordial friendship. I gushed
over with a warmth that surprised me and that would have been impossible
at home; the fountain and the palaces and the Roman sunshine had pushed
me forward into a familiarity that I shouldn’t have ventured upon elsewhere.
He was of my own age, but so much more exquisite and mannerly that I
looked raw indeed at his side; I was an aspiring amateur, he was a citizen of
the world. At school I had tried to avoid him, because I had courted (vainly,
vainly) the society of the more fashionably and the less refined; but I was
eager enough to seize him by both hands in my new freedom and to take
advantage of his riper experience. “Why, Deering—!” He did look
experienced, with his broad-brimmed hat and his neat black clothes, as I
moved towards him and directed my greeting, a little too effusively.
He took it with a brilliant smile, he whipped off his hat and held it to his
stomach. “Eh, come sta?” he said, standing bare-headed; “è pezzo pezzo che
non ci vediamo.” He fluted the words with mellifluous assurance, and I did
my best to meet his humour with my own poor bits and shreds of Italian.
There were no flute-notes in my repertory; but I made a jest of my round
British style and mouthed out some attempt at a Roman compliment. As
quick as thought he countered it with another; and that was surely enough of
the joke—the joke of our standing there bare-headed, flourishing our hats at
each other with Italian airings; so I let loose my pent-up English talk, after
those weeks of unnatural silence, and tumbled out exclamation and question
as they came—I was voluble, enjoying the release of the tongue, and there
were forty things I wanted to say and hear, for this meeting was quite
unexpected and exceedingly opportune; and so I chattered forth my surprise
and pleasure, and then—and then I found them left upon my hands,
somehow, and I looked rather a fool.
“Ma senta, senta,” said Deering. He smiled, but he was firm. He couldn’t
deal with me on these insular terms in Rome; he made me feel it without
explanation, but the fact was that he simply couldn’t allow me to be so
inappropriate, so falsely attuned to the time and place. There we stood in the
heart of Rome, with the palaces of princes around us, secluded among
winding streets all dark with wicked history; and here was Deering,
disguised as a Roman himself, with a great black hat and a suit of dead-black
clothes; and I had stuttered out my poor innocent school-talk, college-gossip,
heaven knows what, a scrannel-pipe to the suave warble of his flute. Had I
come all the way to Rome to be still a British undergraduate even there?
Well, as for that, he very soon put it right. He was kindness itself, but he had
the upper hand of me in these foreign parts, where he was so serenely at
home and I so ecstatically at sea. His was the advantage, as indeed I quite
understood, and he used it from the first. He gently set me in my place, not
without an indulgent smile.
“Senta, senta pure,” he said—or words to that effect; whatever they were
they keenly struck me as the very words I had wanted and missed in my
ignorant solitude. That was the way to talk to a Roman; I might have missed
it for ever, but Deering had picked it up, no doubt, the first time he put on his
broad-brimmed hat. How long had he been in Rome? I was allowed to ask
that question at least, and it appeared that he had come to Rome for a week,
six months before, and had stayed on and on because he had happened to
find rooms that pleased him. They were far from the “English ghetto,” so he
said, meaning that they were far from the hotels and the Piazza di Spagna
and touristry in general; and he had just finished his siesta and was on his
way to a café in the Via Nazionale, where he usually spent some hours of the
afternoon. And I, where was I going? As a matter of fact I had vaguely
thought of wandering away and away, out of the city and into the country—
from whence I should return in the dusk, luxuriously tired, solemnly
enraptured, to climb the long stairs to my own little lodging, my Arcadian
meal and couch. But this I concealed from Deering; I felt at once I must
protect my dear sentimental delights from his ironic eye. Moreover my
lodging, which I had thought so knowingly Roman, proved to be full in the
middle of the English ghetto; I kept this too from him as long as I could.
His siesta, his café, his rooms remote from the vulgar—oh I had such a
vision, as he mentioned these, of the kind of Roman career that I had failed
to go in for hitherto. Deering lived in Rome, I had floated on the surface.
Never mind—I threw over my private romance and adopted Deering’s
reality on the spot. He seemed to be immensely informed, and there was a
charming insolence in his wisdom; I might put my tenderest fancies behind
me and screen them in his presence, but he saw that I was a soft young
enthusiast, and he patronized me with the sweetness of his coo, his smile, his
winning gesture. He delicately blasted whatever had appeared to me of
interest and renown, he showed me the crudity of my standards. I might feel
a passing twinge, for I hadn’t been used to regarding myself as a thing with
which Deering could be indulgent and amused. And yet I was flattered, I
was magnified by his fastidious irony; it brought me into a new world of
mind and taste, more exclusive than my own.
But I obviously couldn’t give way to him in the matter of being so very
Italian that we mightn’t talk our own language. He could take me into
another world, but to endow me at the same time with a new speech was a
miracle beyond him. “Ma come, ma come,” he said encouragingly; he
implied that in the real life of illumination we are all free of the golden
tongue, the tongue of the clear Latin civiltà. It seemed he could hardly frame
his lips to the uncouth noises of the northern Goth. He brought out an
English phrase with an air of handing it over to me between disgustful
finger-tips, and he relapsed unconsciously as he did so into the sweeter
idiom. Ah Deering, Deering! That unconsciousness of his was a finished
performance, I could believe he had practised it before the glass. “But you,
my dear,” he said, “you surely speak the language like the rest of us—eh
magari!” I confessed that I spoke the language like a barbarian fresh from
my native wild; I should listen to him and the rest of them with pleasure, but
to me he must talk our poor old English. “And who are the rest of you?” I
demanded.
He answered my question at some length, inadvertently recovering his
former tongue. In six months of Roman life he had made many friends; he
had fallen into a circle that suited him as aptly as his rooms. “I scarcely
know how it happened,” he said, “but I seemed to find my feet here from the
first.” He apparently attributed a great deal of his fortune to the café of the
Via Nazionale; a right instinct had taken him there in the beginning, and
thereafter all had run smoothly. He had met a journalist, he had met an actor
or a lawyer or a doctor—anyhow he had met somebody whom the ordinary
Cook-driven tourist, slaving round the ruins and the galleries, would have
missed infallibly; and so he had entered a company which belonged—he
insisted on it—to the real Rome, the city unsuspected of our gaping
countrymen. His secret was to “live the life of the place,” he said; and let
there be no mistake, the life of the place is to be found among the shops and
tramways of the business quarter, nowhere else. It must be owned that in
Rome a stranger runs many a risk of overlooking the true life on these terms,
which are the terms that Deering laid down with high lucidity; for even if
you avoid the ghetto of the tourist on one hand, and the romantic desolation
of the Campagna (to which I myself was addicted) on the other, you may
still make a further mistake—and I put it to Deering that it really depends on
what you call the life of Rome. There is the community of the “student,” for
example; and I should have thought that Deering, with his rare vein of taste
in the arts, would haunt the workshops of young sculptors, ragged painters
and poets—weren’t they as plentiful in Rome as summer flies?
I had interrupted Deering’s exposition; he wanted to tell me more about
the ease with which he had dropped into the heart of Rome. But he broke
away from that, with another of his patient intelligent smiles, to explain to
me how much I failed to understand. There was no more any life of that kind
in Rome—no romantic art. Did I think that those horrible theatrical old men,
those bedizened little boys and girls, who still loaf upon the Spanish Steps
and waylay the foreigner—did I think they were genuine “models,” waiting
for real painters to carry them off and paint them? I supposed then that I was
living in the Rome of Hans Andersen and Nathaniel Hawthorne? He
abounded in his sarcasm. Ragged poets indeed! My notion of the vie de
Bohème was a little behind the times, fifty years or so. “Ah you live in
books,” said Deering—he rallied me on it; “in Rome you must come out of
books—I shall drag you out of Hawthorne.” As a matter of fact he knew the
young poets of Rome, he had several friends among them; it was no use my
looking for them in garrets and operatic wine-cellars near the Tiber; the Via
Nazionale was the place, vulgar as I thought it with its crowds and trams and
plate-glass—and he was off again, with his sweet flat voice and his neat
enunciation, describing the extraordinary favour that the journalists had
shown him, or perhaps the actors.
It was remarkable, he said, how they accepted him as one of themselves.
“There seems to be something of the Italian in me,” he mentioned once or
twice, “nothing to be proud of!”—and he smiled with pride. I could honestly
tell him that there was at least nothing English in his appearance, since he
had taken to powdering his nose and to clothing himself like an undertaker.
The remark about his nose I indeed reserved, but my allusion to his clothes
was a happy one. He immediately glanced with quiet approval at his hands,
and I remembered how in earlier years, when we were both small boys at
school, he had once pointed out to me that he had hands “like a Botticelli.”
He ought to have been grateful to me for the self-restraint I had shown in
withholding that confidence from the light. I had been surprisingly discreet, I
had never used his Botticelli hands against him in our free-spoken circle, and
I was glad of it now. Here in Rome, set free from the old snobberies of
boyhood, I was ready to take his hands quite seriously, and even the paste of
powder with which he had corrected the tint (inclining rather to Rubens) of
his nose. His black clothes were designed to set off his elegant wrists and
tapering fingers; and if a nose invariably scorched by the sun was a weight
on his mind, as I know it was, he found support in the well-drawn oval of his
face. He was not very tall, and unfortunately he was not very slender; it was
only too plain to see that before long he would be plump. But nevertheless
he might reasonably tell himself that his figure, as he stood by the fountain
and thoughtfully eyed his hands, had a hint and a suggestion, I don’t say
more, of something you might call—of something he hoped I was calling—a
lily-droop, swaying lightly.
I can see him bend and sway accordingly; and I can recall the bright
stream of sensation in my own mind, where the old desire to scoff at his
elegancies had apparently changed to respect and envy. What a free world, I
thought, what a liberal and charming, in which a stupid prejudice could
dissolve and drop away so quickly! Perhaps I didn’t quite understand that
my respect was not so much for Deering as for myself, not so much for
Deering’s pretty graces as for my own emancipation; but my envy of his
Italian ease and competence was indeed sincere. I would seize, yes I would,
such an opportunity of learning, discovering, experiencing; I would follow
Deering, accept his guidance and pay him his price—for his price was a
small one, merely a little tacit backing of his own view of himself. He would
expect me to agree with him that his face had a species of haunting charm;
he would expect me, at any rate, not to imply that it hadn’t. It was a trifling
indemnification for the many times he had been told in former days that he
had a face like a rabbit. I would gladly support him in abolishing the
memory of all that ribaldry; I should be rewarded by observing my own
tolerance with satisfaction and by becoming acquainted at the same time
with this “real Rome” of Deering’s—he was still fluting on about its reality.
We shuffled for a while to and fro across the sunny little square. Now and
then a bare-headed woman came pattering by, twisting her neck for a firm
round stare at us as she went; children looked on from a distance, struck
dumb in their play by our oddity. Deering talked and talked; he too felt the
relief of uttering himself, no doubt—for I could well believe that the real
Rome didn’t supply a listener who understood him as I did. Not one of those
actors or poets, for example, could measure the difference between Deering
of old, flouted and derided, and this remarkable young personage, ornament
of a strange society, who was now willing to be the patron of such as I.
Deering talked, I appreciated the difference; I did my part with a will, and he
bloomed in the warmth of my recognition. For six months, moreover, he had
been displaying the new, the very newest culture, and his associates hadn’t
really been in a position to perceive it. An Englishman who avoided the old
ruins and churches, who sat through the April afternoon at a marble-topped
table—why his companions would of course take him for an Englishman
who behaved, for a wonder, in a natural and commendable fashion; and this
was where I again came in so aptly, for I could do justice to the originality
and the modernity of his proceeding. It wasn’t as though Deering sat in a
café because he knew no better, because he was the kind of person whose
ideas are bounded by plush and gilt and plate-glass. He sat there, avoiding
the nightingales on the Aventine, the sunset in the Campagna, because he
knew all that and more, and because the rarity of the perversity of his culture
led him back again, round again, to the scream of the tramway in the
“business quarter.” I, who had watched him of old, could be trusted to
distinguish these niceties; there it was that I came into the game, and he
didn’t hesitate—he brought me into play.
“Yes,” he murmured, musing gently upon my state of romance, “yes, I
should like to drag you out of literature once for all. Come out of your
books, come to Rome—come with me.” I could truthfully say that I would
go with pleasure; and as for my books, I was quite willing to let him label
me as he chose—I accepted the part for which he cast me. I was the victim
of the romantic fallacy, and it all came of my looking for life in antiquated
fiction—in Zola even, in Zola as like as not—instead of looking for it in the
raw red world: such was the part he assigned me, and I have ever been one
to fall in with an arrangement of this kind. People, I long ago found, are
never happy till they have decided that you are this or that, some
recognizable type; and for yourself the line of least resistance is always to let
them have their way. In my time I have played many parts, acting up to the
theory and the expectation of my different companions; it saves trouble, it
spares one the effort of assertion. There are even those with whom I have
been able to assume the very attitude that Deering had now adopted towards
me, the attitude of a liberal patron towards a muddle-headed young innocent;
and then I have patronized as glibly as I now submitted. Deering saw in the
look with which I answered him the exact shade of awkward modesty that he
demanded. It was well; he approved my fluency in the part that had fallen to
me.
It was settled, then, that he was to hale me out of my sentimental twilight
into the broad noon of reality; I had lived for too long in a dream, and now
he promised himself the amusement of dispelling my illusions. So be it; I
told him I asked nothing better than to follow his lead, and I told myself that
at least I had a sharper eye for the “facts of life” (my phrase) than ever
Deering would have. We were both well-pleased, therefore; and I wonder at
which of us the spirit of Rome, glancing that afternoon over the Square of
the Tortoises, smiled and chuckled most benignly. It was Deering at any rate,
of the two of us, who made the more intricate object of study; anybody
might be drawn, even Rome, to pause and consider him as a child of his
time. When he slipped his arm through mine and daintily drew me forward
on our way—the way to reality!—I don’t think the first comer would have
guessed that he was about to become my sponsor in the raw red world. His
graceful hands seemed rather to flutter in deprecation of any world more
earthly than the sea-pallor, say, of a sunrise in the manner of Botticelli. But
that, for Deering, was just the fun of it. Of the sea-pale dawn he could
honestly say, and he did say, “J’ai passé par là”; in an earlier stage of his
culture he had duly swooned in the ecstasy of the burnished moment, the
discriminated pulse of the perfected sensation; but at that time he had worn
an Eton jacket, and years had flown since then, and by now his eye-lids were
more than a little weary of the raptures he had outlived. He, more precocious
than I, had left his books at the moment when I was making the first
discovery of mine; he no longer read any books at all, he told me, and if he
didn’t add that life was his book it was only because the phrase, when he
was about to utter it, struck him as old-fashioned and obvious. “ ‘Youth’s
sweet-scented manuscript’—you remember?”—he ventured on that,
guarding himself with a slightly acid intonation of the pretty words.
And so Deering turned me away from the ilex-shadows and grey spaces
of an evening on the Aventine and in the further country; he clung to my arm
and directed me to the clatter of the city, and that was how it all began. He
gave me a push, with his benediction, and one thing led to another, and I
started to collect some Roman pictures of a new sort. I stored away my more
sentimental bits and notes of impression, carefully saving them from the eye
of Deering; I laid them aside, and certainly they are not worth disturbing
again at this late hour. But as for these others, the new sort, I think it might
be amusing to bring them briefly to the light, one by one; though I don’t
pretend that even with Deering to point the way I penetrated far into Rome
or the world either. After all his offers to induct and indoctrinate me, nothing
came of them to speak of; I saw not a sign of rawness or redness, that I can
remember—so I suppose I must conclude that the heart of life escaped me
still. But even the fringes of life, if that is all they were, seemed strange and
memorable in Rome; nobody who lived in Rome, nobody who breathed the
golden air as a matter of course, nobody who trod the sacred soil as an
everyday affair, could be less than a wonder to a rather lean young northern
soul, whose lodging in the Piazza di Spagna had only been hired by the
month. The spring days were endless, but they flashed away faster than I
could count; presently they would all be gone, and I should have to leave
Rome to the few free happy creatures, such as Deering, who could stay
because they liked it, stay in Paradise because they happened to prefer it—I
should think they might! As Deering and I, arm in arm, left the square and
the babbling fountain, I was quite overcome by my jealousy of his
detachment from cares and ties, from the stupid thrums of responsibility that
so soon drag most of us away from the Rome of our desire.
“So here you are living in Rome,” I said dejectedly, “with nothing to
prevent you from staying for ever.” Deering was his own master, I knew, and
he sedulously cultivated a frosty indifference to any claims at home, such as
they were, that might have hampered him. I didn’t exactly admire his
ruthless way, but I certainly envied it. I should like to have had that faculty
of ignoring, blankly and serenely, what I chose to ignore; it would have been
a great convenience. All I needed was a little of Deering’s real independence
of opinion; for I can’t think I was embarrassed by many good warm qualities
of heart and temper. Deering was no unkinder than I, only bolder, more
secure in his power to stand alone. And then he had another immense
advantage; he could always be sympathetically impressed by his own
performance, he was an excellent audience of himself. “Living in Rome?” he
echoed—“you don’t know me! I shall take to the road again before long. But
you’re not tormented, as I am, by the gypsy in the blood. There are times
when I envy the like of you, the decent, the home-keeping——” He broke
off with a sigh—a sigh in which I could almost hear the involuntary murmur
of applause. Yes, the gypsy in the blood was a good stroke, and I think a new
one.

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Solution Manual for Principles of General Chemistry

3rd Edition Silberberg 0073402699 9780073402697

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CHAPTER 6 THERMOCHEMISTRY: ENERGY

6.3 a) electric heater b) sound amplifier c) light bulb d) automobile alternator

6.4 Heat energy; sound energy (impact)

6.6 q + w = –255 cal + (–428 cal) = –683 cal

6.8 CaCO 3 (s) + 9.0x106 kJ → CaO(s) + CO 2 (g)

4CO2 + 6H2O (final)

b) Freezing of water: H 2 O(l) → H 2 O(s) + heat

6.15 a) Na(s) + 1/2Cl 2 (g) → NaCl(s) + heat

b) C 6 H 6 (l) + heat → C 6 H 6 (g)

2CO2 + 4H2O (final)

6.17 a) CO 2 (s) + heat → CO 2 (g)

b) SO 2 (g) + 1/2O 2 (g) → SO 3 (g) + heat

6.25 q (J) = c x mass x T

6.27 –q lost = q gained

c x mass x T (85°C water)= c x mass x T (26°C water)

6.29 –q lost = q gained

6.30 Benzoic acid is C 6 H 5 COOH, and will be symbolized as HBz.

6.31 a) Energy will flow from Cu (at 100.0°C) to Fe (at 0.0°C).

6.32 The reaction is: 2KOH(aq) + H 2 SO 4 (aq) → K 2 SO 4 (aq) + 2H 2 O(l)

6.36 MgCO 3 (s) → MgO(s) + CO 2 (g) H rxn = 117.3 kJ

6.38 a) KBr(s) → K(s) + 1/2Br 2 (l) H rxn = 394 kJ

6.45 2NOCl(g) → 2NO(g) + Cl 2 (g) H = –2(–38.6 kJ)

2) 2NO(g) + O 2 (g) → 2NO 2 (g) H = –114.2 kJ

3) N 2 (g) + 2O 2 (g) → 2NO 2 (g) H rxn = +66.4 kJ

3) P 4 (s) + 10Cl 2 (g) → 4PCl 5 (g) H overall = –1608 kJ

6.48 C (diamond) + O 2 (g) → CO 2 (g) H = –395.4 kJ

6.52 a) 1/2H 2 (g) + 1/2I 2 (s) → HI(g)

6.54 H rxn = m H f (products) – n H f (reactants)

a) H rxn = {1 H f [SiF 4 (g)] + 2 H f [H 2 O(l)]} – {1 H f [SiO 2 (s)] + 4 H f [HF(g)]}

H rxn = {2 H f [CuO(s)]} – {1 H f [Cu 2 O(s)] + 1/2 H f [O 2 (g)]}

6.56 H rxn = m H f (products) – n H f (reactants)

C 2 H 2 (g) + 5/2O 2 (g) → 2CO 2 (g) + H 2 O(g) H rxn = –1255.8 kJ

H rxn = {2 H f [CO 2 (g)] + 1 H f [H 2 O(g)]} – {1 H f [C 2 H 2 (g)] + 5/2 H f [O 2 (g)]}

Title: Roman pictures

Author: Percy Lubbock

Release date: October 6, 2023 [eBook #71818]

Original publication: NYC: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1923

Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMAN

I. FONTANA DELLE TARTARUGHE 9

II. VIA NAZIONALE 23

III. PIAZZA DELLA CANCELLERIA 38

IV. ST. PETER’S 52

VI. VILLA BORGHESE 79

VII. VIA DELLA PURIFICAZIONE 94

VIII. ALBANO 107

IX. CASTEL GANDOLFO 121

X. VIA SISTINA 135

XI. PIAZZA NAVONA 149

XII. CORSO 163

XIII. THE FORUM 178

XIV. VIA MARGUTTA 191

XV. VIA DELLE BOTTEGHE OSCURE 205

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