Italian Letters of a Diplomat's Life Part 13

Wednesday, February 17th.

Monday night we went to the court ball. It was very amusing, but extraordinarily simple, not to say democratic. Bessie and I went together early, so as to get good seats. If I hadn't known we were going to the palace I should have thought we had made a mistake in the house.

The square of the Quirinal was so quiet, almost deserted--no troops nor music, nor crowd of people looking on and peering into the carriages to see the dresses and jewels--no soldiers nor officials of any kind on the grand staircase. Some tall cuira.s.siers and footmen in the anteroom--no chamberlains nor pages--nothing like the glittering crowd of gold lace and uniforms one usually sees in the anteroom of a palace. We walked through two or three handsome rooms to the ball-room, where there were already a great many people. The room is large, high, but rather too narrow, with seats all round. There was no raised platform for the court--merely a carpet and two large gilt arm-chairs for the King and Queen and a smaller one for the Comte de Turin. It was amusing to see all the people coming in, the different uniforms and jewels of the women giving at once an air of court. The entrance of the royal cortege was quite simple. They played the "Marcia Reale," which I don't at all care for. It is a frivolous, jumpy little tune, not at all the grave, dignified measure one would expect on such an occasion. There were no chamberlains walking backward with their great wands of office in their hands. The master of ceremonies, Count Gianotti, looking very well in his uniform and broad green ribbon, came first, and almost immediately behind him the King and Queen, arm in arm, the Count of Turin, and a small procession of court functionaries. The Queen looked very well in yellow, with a splendid tiara. She took her seat at once; the King and Comte de Turin remained standing. What was charming was the group of young court ladies who followed the Queen--tall, handsome women, very well dressed. There was no "quadrille d'honneur," none of the royalties danced. The dancing began as soon as the court was seated--any little couple, a young lieutenant, an American, any one, dancing under the nose of the sovereigns. The Queen remained sitting quite alone, hardly speaking to any one, through three or four dances; then there was a move, and she made her "cercle," going straight around the room, and speaking to almost every one. The King made no "cercle," remained standing near the "corps diplomatique," who were all ma.s.sed on one side of the thrones (or arm-chairs). He talked to the amba.s.sadors and etrangers de distinction (men--they say he rarely speaks to a woman). We all moved about a little after the Queen had pa.s.sed, and I found plenty of old friends and colleagues to talk to. Neither the Russian Amba.s.sador, Prince Ourousoff, nor any of his staff were present, on account of the war.

Tuesday it poured all the morning, so I didn't get my usual walk, and I tried to put some sort of order in our cards, which are in a hopeless confusion. The unfortunate porter is almost crazy. There are four of us here (as Madame de Bailleul's cards and invitations also come here), all with different names, and it must be impossible not to mix them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Victor Emanuel III., King of Italy.]

It stopped raining in the afternoon and Josephine and I walked up to Palazzo Brancaccio after tea, to ask about Bessie, who has been ill ever since her ball. The streets were full of people, a few masks (as it was Mardi Gras), but quite in the lower cla.s.ses. I should think the Carnival was dead, as far as Society is concerned. We got very little information about Bessie--the porter would not let us go upstairs, said the Princess was in the country, or perhaps in Paris. It seems he is quite a character, well known in Rome. When Mr. Field was ill, dying, of course everybody went to inquire, which seemed to exasperate him, as he finally replied, "ma s, e malato, va morire, ma lasciarlo in pace--perche venir seccar la gente?" (yes, yes, he is ill, dying, but leave him in peace--why do you come and bore people?).

We stepped in at a little church on our way back, where a benediction was going on. It was brilliantly lighted, and filled with people almost all kneeling--princesses and peasants--on the stone floor. It was a curious contrast to the motley, masquerading crowd just outside.

Thursday, 18th.

It is still showery and the streets very muddy to-day. This morning I made a solitary expedition to St. Peter's--armed with an Italian guide-book M. Virgo lent me (it was red, like Baedeker, so I looked quite the tourist). I went by tram--M. Virgo and the children escorted me to the bottom of the Via Tritone, and started me. The tramway is most convenient. We went through the Piazza di Spagna, across the Piazza del Popolo, and turned off short to the left. It was all quite different from what I remembered--a fine broad road (Lungo Tevere) (along the Tiber) with quant.i.ties of high, ugly modern buildings, "maisons de location," villas, and an enormous Ministere, I forget which one, Public Works, I think, which could accommodate a village. Some of the villas are too awful--fancy white stucco buildings ornamented with cheap statues and plaques of majolica and coloured marble. The tram stopped at the end of the piazza facing the church, but one loses the sense of immensity being so near. I saw merely the facade and the great stone perron. I wandered about for an hour finding my way everywhere, and recognising all the old monuments--Christina of Sweden, the Stuart monuments, the Cappella Julia, etc. There were quite a number of people walking about and sitting on the benches, or in the stalls of the little side chapels, reading their Baedekers. I came home in a botta for the sum of one franc. I wanted to cross the St. Angelo Bridge and see the crooked dirty little streets and low dark shops I remembered so well--and which will all disappear one day--with new quarters and all the old buildings pulled down. They were all there quite unchanged, only a little dirtier--the same heaps of decayed vegetables lying about in the corners, girls and women in bright red skirts and yellow fichus on their heads, long gold earrings, and gold pins in their hair, standing talking in the doorways, children playing in the gutter, a general smell of frittura everywhere. The little dark shops have no windows, only a low, narrow door, and the people sit in the doorway to get all the light they can for their work.

We paid some visits in the afternoon, winding up with Princess Pallavicini. Her beautiful apartment looked just the same (only there, too, is an ascenseur) with the enormous anteroom and suites of salons before reaching the boudoir, where she gave us tea. I remembered everything, even the flowered Pompadour satin on the walls, just as I had always seen it.

Sat.u.r.day, February 20th.

These last two days have been beautiful--real Roman days, bright blue sky, warm sun, and just air enough to be pleasant. Yesterday I trammed over again to the Vatican (a trolley car is an abomination in Rome, but so convenient). I wanted to see the statues and my favourite Apollo Belvedere, who hasn't grown any older in 24 years--the same beautiful, spirited young G.o.d. As I was coming downstairs I saw some people going into the garden from a side door, so I stepped up to the gardien, and said I wanted to go too. He said it was quite impossible without a permesso signed by one of the officers of the Pope's household. I a.s.sured him in my best Italian that I could have all the permessi I wanted, that I knew a great many people, was only here de pa.s.sage and might not be able to come back another day, and that as I was alone he really might let me pa.s.s--so after a little conversation he chose a time when no one was pa.s.sing, opened the door as little as he could and let me through. There were two or three parties being conducted about by guides, but no one took any notice of me, and I wandered about for some time quite happy. It is a splendid garden--really a park. I seemed to have got out on a sort of terrace (the carriage road below me). There were some lovely walks, with cypress and ilex making thick shade, and hundreds of camellias--great trees. The view toward Monte Mario was divine--everything so clear, hardly any of the blue mist that one almost always sees on the Campagna near Rome. The sun was too hot when I had to cross an open s.p.a.ce, and I was glad to get back to the dark cypress walks. It was enchanting, but I think the most beautiful nature would pall upon me if I knew I must always do the same thing. I am sure Leon XIII. must have pined often for the green plains and lovely valleys around Perugia, and I don't believe the most beautiful views of the Alban hills tipped with snow, and pink in the sunset hues, will make up to the present Pope for the Lagoons of Venice and the long sweep of the Grand Ca.n.a.l to the sea.

Tuesday, 23d.

Yesterday Josephine and I drove out to the meet at Acqua Santa, out of Porta San Giovanni. There were quant.i.ties of carriages and led horses going out, as it is one of the favourite meets--you get out so soon into the open country. There was such a crowd as we got near that we got out and walked, scrambling over and through fences. It was a much larger field than I had ever seen in Rome--many officers (all in uniform) riding, and many women. The hounds broke away from a pretty little olive wood on a height, and stretched away across a field to two stone walls, which almost every one jumped. There were one or two falls, but nothing serious. They were soon out of sight, but we loitered on the Campagna, sitting on the stone walls, and talking to belated hunters who came galloping up, eager to know which way the hunt had gone.

Sunday we had a party and music at the French Emba.s.sy (Vatican). Diemor played beautifully, so did Teresina Tua. When they played together Griegg's sonata for piano and violin it was enchanting. All the Black world was there, and a good many strangers.

Thursday, February 25th.

We dined last night at the Wurts', who have a charming apartment in one of the finest old palaces (Anticci Mattei) in Rome. The staircase beautiful, most elaborately carved, really reminded me of Mont St.

Michel. Their rooms are filled with all sorts of interesting things, the collection of years. The dinner was very pleasant--half Italian, half diplomatic.

I have just come in from my audience with the Pope. I found the convocation when I got home last night. Bessie was rather disgusted at not having received hers, as we had planned to go together; but she said she would come with me. She would dress herself in regulation attire--long black dress and black veil--and take the chance. We had a mild humiliation as we got to the inner Court. The sentries would not let us pa.s.s. We had the small coupe, with one horse, and it seems one-horse vehicles are not allowed to enter these sacred precincts. We protested, saying we had a special audience, and that we couldn't get out on the muddy pavement, but it was no use; they wouldn't hear of our modest equipage going in, so we had to cross the court--quite a large one, and decidedly muddy--on foot, holding up our long dresses as well as we could.

It seemed so natural to go up the great stone staircase, with a few Swiss guards in their striped red and yellow uniform standing about. We spoke to one man in Italian, asking him the way, and he replied in German. I fancy very few of them speak Italian. We pa.s.sed through a good many rooms filled with all sorts of people: priests, officers, gardes n.o.bles, women in black, evidently waiting for an audience, valets de chambre dressed in red damask, camerieri segreti in black velvet doublets, ruffs and gold chains and cross--a most picturesque and polyglot a.s.semblage; one heard every language under the sun.

We were pa.s.sed on from one room to another, and finally came to a halt in a large square room, where there were more priests, one or two monsignori, in their violet robes, and two officers. I showed my paper, one of the monsignori, Bicletis (maestro di Casa di Sua Sant.i.ta), came forward and said the Pope was expecting me; so then I presented Bessie, explained that her name had been sent in at the same time with mine, and that if she could be admitted (without the convocation) it would be a great pleasure to both of us to be received together. He said there would be no difficulty in that.

While we were talking to him the door into the audience chamber was opened, and a large party came out--the Comte and Comtesse d'Eu and their sons, with a numerous suite. We had barely time to exchange a few remarks, as Monsignor Bicletis was waiting for us to advance. We found the Pope standing in the centre of rather a small room. The walls were hung with red damask, the carpet also was red, and at one end were three gold chairs. We made low curtseys--didn't kneel nor kiss his hands, being Protestants. He advanced a few steps, shook hands, and made us sit down, one on each side of him. He was dressed, of course, entirely in white. He spoke only Italian--said he understood French, but didn't speak it easily. He has a beautiful face--so earnest, with a fine upward look in his eyes; not at all the intellectual, ascetic appearance of Leo XIII., nor the half-malicious, kindly smile of Pius IX., but a face one would remember. I asked him if he was less tired than when he was first named Pope. He said, oh, yes, but that the first days were very trying--the great heat, the change of habits and climate, and the change of food (so funny, one would think there needn't be any great change between Rome and Venice--less fish, perhaps). He talked a little--only a little--about France, and the difficult times we were pa.s.sing through; knew that I was a Protestant and an "old Roman"; asked how many years since I had been back; said: "You won't find the old Rome you used to know; there are many, many changes."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pope Pius X.]

He was much interested in all Bessie told him about America and the Catholic religion in the States--was rather amused when she suggested that another American cardinal might perhaps be a good thing. He asked us if we knew Venice, and his face quite lighted up when we spoke of all the familiar scenes where he had spent so many happy years. He was much beloved in Venice. He gave me the impression of a man who was still feeling his way, but who, when he had found it, would go straight on to what he considered his duty. But I must say that is not the general impression; most people think he will be absolutely guided by his "entourage," who will never leave him any initiative.

As we were leaving I said I had something to ask. "Dica, dica, La prego"

(Please speak), so I explained that I was a Protestant, my son also, but that he had married a Catholic, and I would like his blessing for my daughter. He made me a sign to kneel and touched my head with his hand, saying the words in Latin, and adding, "E per Lei et tutta la sua famiglia" (for you and all your family). He turned his back slightly when we went out, so we were not obliged to back out altogether.

We talked a few moments in the anteroom with Monsignor Bicletis, but he was very busy, other people going in to the Pope, so we didn't stay and went down to Cardinal Mery del Val's apartment. He receives in the beautiful Borgia rooms, with Pinturicchio's marvellous frescoes (there was such a lovely Madonna over one of the doors, a young pure face against that curious light-green background one sees so often in the early Italian masters). The apartment was comparatively modern--calorifere, electric light, bells, etc. While we were waiting the Comte and Comtesse d'Eu and their party pa.s.sed through.

The Cardinal received us standing, but made us sit down at once. He is a tall, handsome homme du monde, rather English looking, very young. He told us he was not yet forty years old. He speaks English as well as I do (his mother was English), and, they tell me, every other language equally well. He seemed to have read everything and to be au courant of all that was said and thought all over the world. He talked a little more politics than the Pope--deplored what was going on in France, was interested in all Bessie told him about America and Catholicism over there. They must be struck with the American priests and bishops whom they see in Europe, not only their conception, but their practice of their religion is so different. I had such an example of that one day when we asked a friend of ours, a most intelligent, highly educated _modern_ priest, to meet Monsignor Ireland. He was charmed with him--listened most intently to all he said, particularly when he was speaking of the wild life out West, near California, and the difficulty of getting any hold over the miners. (He started a music hall, among other things, to have some place where the men could go in the evenings, and get out of the saloons and low drinking-shops.) Our friend perfectly appreciated the practical energy of the monsignor, but said such a line would be impossible in France. No priest, no matter how high his rank, would be allowed such initiative, and the people would not understand.

He didn't keep us very long, had evidently other audiences, and not time to talk to everybody. I am very glad to have seen him. He is quite unlike any cardinal I have ever met--perhaps because he is so much younger than most of them, perhaps because he seemed more homme du monde than ecclesiastic; but I daresay that type is changing, too, with everything else in Rome. We had a most interesting afternoon. After all, Rome and the Vatican are unique of their kind.

Friday, February 26th.

I had my audience from Queen Margherita alone this afternoon. Bessie and Josephine have already been. Her palace is in the Veneto (our quarter) and very near. It is a large, fine building, but I should have liked it better standing back in a garden, not directly on the street. However, the Romans don't think so. There are always people standing about waiting to see her carriage or auto pa.s.s out--they wait hours for a smile from their beloved Regina Margherita. I went up in an ascenseur--three or four footmen (in black) and a groom of the chambers at the top. I was ushered down a fine long gallery with handsome furniture and pictures to a large room almost at the end, where I found the Marquise Villa Marina (who is always with the Queen), the d.u.c.h.esse Sforza Cesarini (lady in waiting), and one gentleman. There were three or four people in the room, waiting also to be received. Almost immediately the door into the next room opened, and the d.u.c.h.esse Sforza waved me in (didn't come in herself). I had at once the impression of a charming drawing-room, with flowers, pictures, books, bibelots--not in the least like the ordinary bare official reception room where Queen Elena received us. The Queen, dressed in black, was sitting on a sofa about the middle of the room, and really not much changed since I had seen her twenty-four years ago at the Quirinal, when the present King was a little boy, dressed in a blue sailor suit. She is a little stouter, but her blonde hair and colouring just the same, and si grand air. She was most charming, talked in French and English, about anything, everything--asked about my sister-in-law, Madame de Bunsen, and her daughter Beatrice, whom she had known as a little girl in Florence. She is very fond of automobiling, so we had at once one great point of sympathy. She had read "The Lightning Conductor" and was much amused with it. We talked a little about the great changes in Rome. I told her about our visit to the Pope, and the impression of simplicity and extreme goodness he had made upon us. I can't remember all we talked about. I had the same impression that I had twenty-four years ago--a visit to a charming, sympathetic woman, very large-minded, to whom one could talk of anything.

Sunday, 28th.

It has poured all day, but held up a little in the afternoon, so we went (all four) to see Cardinal Mathieu, who lives in the Villa Wolkonsky. He had asked us to come and walk in his beautiful garden (with such a view of the Aqueducts) but that was of course out of the question. He is very clever and genial, and was rather amused at the account we gave him of our discussions. We are two Catholics and two Protestants, and argue from morning till night--naturally neither party convincing the other.

He told us we should go to the Vatican to-morrow--there was a large French pelerinage which he presented. We would certainly see the Pope and perhaps hear him speak.

Monday.

We had a pleasant breakfast this morning with Bebella d'Arsoli,[33] in their beautiful apartment in his father's (Prince Ma.s.simo's) palace.

The palace looks so black and melancholy outside, with its heavy portico of columns (and always beggars sitting on the stone benches under the portico) that it was a surprise to get into their beautiful rooms--with splendid pictures and tapestries. The corner drawing-room, where she received us, flooded with light, showing off the old red damask of the walls and the splendid ceiling. We went to see the Chapel after breakfast, where there are wonderful relics, and a famous pavement in majolica.

[33] Princess d'Arsoli, nee Bella Brancaccio, granddaughter of Hickson Field.

About 3 we started off for St. Peter's. We had all brought our veils with us, and retired to Bebella's dressing-room where her maid arranged our heads. We left a pile of hats which Bebella promised to send home for us, and took ourselves off to the Vatican, taking little Victoria Ruspoli with us, who looked quite sweet in her white dress and veil--her great dark eyes bright with excitement. We found many carriages in the court, as we got to the Vatican, and many more soldiers on the stairs, and about in the pa.s.sages. The rooms and long gallery were crowded--all sorts of people, priests, women, young men, children (some very nice-looking people) all speaking French. We went at first into the gallery, but there was such a crowd and such a smell of people closely packed that we couldn't stay, and just as we were wondering what to do, Monsignor Bicletis came through and at once told us to come with him. He took us through several rooms, one large one filled with people waiting for their audience, into the one next the Pope's, who he said was with Cardinal Mathieu, and would soon pa.s.s. We were quite alone in that room, except for three or four priests. In a few moments the Pope appeared with Cardinal Mathieu and quite a large suite. The Cardinal, who had promised to present Madame de B. (there had been some delay about her convocation), came up to us at once. We all knelt as the Pope came near, and he named Madame de B. and little Victoria, who asked for his blessing for her brothers. He recognised me and Bessie, and said we were welcome always at the Vatican. He only said a few words to Madame de B.

as he had a long afternoon before him. Cardinal Mathieu told us to follow them, so we closed up behind the suite, and followed the Pope's procession.

There must have been over a hundred people waiting in the next room, and it was an impressive sight to see them all--men, women, and children--kneel as the Pope appeared. Some of the children were quite sweet, holding out their little hands full of medals and rosaries to be blessed--almost all the girls in white, with white veils, like the little first communiantes in France. The Pope made his "cercle,"

speaking to almost every one--sometimes only a word, sometimes quite a little talk. We followed him through one or two rooms to the open loggia, which was crowded. We were very hot, but he sent for his cloak and hat. We waited some little time but the crowd was so dense--he would have spoken from the other end of the loggia--and we couldn't possibly have got through--so we came away, having had again a very interesting afternoon.

It is most picturesque driving around the back of St. Peter's and the Vatican. There are such countless turns and courts and long stretches of high walls with little narrow windows quite up at the top. Always people coming and going--cardinals' carriages with their black horses, fiacres with tourists looking eagerly about them and speaking every possible language, priests, women in black with black veils, little squads of Papal troops marching across the squares--and Italian soldiers keeping order in the great piazza. A curious little old world in the midst of the cosmopolitan town Rome has become.

ROME, March 2d.

Yesterday Madame de B. and I made an expedition to the Catacombs of San Calisto fuori Porta San Sebastiano. It was decidedly cold and we were very glad we hadn't taken the open carriage. The drive out was charming--first inside the gates, pa.s.sing the Colosseum, the two great arches of Constantine and t.i.tus, and directly under the Palatine Hill and Baths of Caracalla, and then going out through the narrow little gateway, and for some little distance through high stone walls, we came upon the countless towers, tombs and columns standing alone in the middle of the fields, having no particular connection with anything, that mark the Appian Way, and make it so extraordinarily interesting and unlike any other drive in the world. I was delighted when we came upon that funny little stone house, built on the top of a high circular tomb--I remembered it perfectly.

The Catacombs stand in a sort of garden or vineyard. There were people already there, and a party just preparing to go down as we appeared.

They had asked for a guide who spoke French, as they knew no Italian, and a nice-looking, intelligent young monk was marshalling his party and lighting the tapers. I thought _they_ were rather short (I am rather nervous about subterraneous expeditions and one has heard gruesome tales of people lost in the Catacombs, not so very long ago) but they lasted quite well.

It was curious to see all the old symbols again--the fish, the pax (cross) and to think what they represented to the early bands of Christians, when the mere fact of being a Christian meant persecution, suffering, and often a terrible death in the arena of the Colosseum.

Some of the frescoes are wonderfully preserved--we saw quite well the heads of saints, martyrs, and decorations of wreaths of flowers or a delicate arabesque tracery; the most favourite subjects were Jonah and the whale, a shepherd with a lamb on his shoulders, and kneeling women's figures. The ladies in our party were wildly interested in the mummies (terrible looking things), particularly one with the hair quite visible.

We saw of course the niche where the body of Ste. Cecilia was found--but the body is now removed to the church of Ste. Cecilia in the Trastevere.

They have put, however, a model of the body, representing it exactly, in the niche, so the illusion is quite possible.