We started off again at 8, and had really a very pleasant evening at
Calabrini's. Their house is not large--they can't dine easily more than
10 people. I was the only lady--the men were Vitelleschi, Sella (their
rising political man) whom W. was delighted to see, a Ruspoli whom I had
never seen before, a brother of the late Prince; and Alphonso Doria who
looks like a tall English boy. Stella is clever enough, decidedly un
homme serieux, and Calabrini was much pleased to have him for my homme
serieux. He told us all sorts of stories about "Italia Unita" and
Cavour, and his profound distrust of Louis Napoleon; how, until the very
last moment when the French troops were really at the gates, he was
afraid they wouldn't come. We stayed fairly late, as the talk was
interesting. I don't think there is much real sympathy between the
French and Italians. They are very unlike though they are of the same
race. The Italians seem very excitable when they talk fast and
gesticulate and their eyes flash, but au fond they are calmer than our
people--at least the upper classes; I don't know about the bas peuple.
They say knives play a part in their discussions. Certainly in France
there are always rows when the Italian workmen arrive. They are
generally terrassiers and come in bands when railroads or bridges are
being made. One recognises them at once with their black eyes, white
teeth, red sashes and slouched hats. There is usually a coup de couteau
before the season ends. They work well enough, are light and active, but
always stop to talk--don't keep up a sort of desultory talk over their
work as our men do.
[Illustration: Queen Margherita and King Humbert.]
March 18, 1880.
Last night we went to the Wimpffens' grand official "ricevimento." All
the street in front of the house was crowded just as it used to be in
the old days--people coming close up to the carriages (going of course
at a foot's pace) and peering in to see the diamonds. There was
nothing like the display of carriages, diamonds, and liveries there
used to be--many fiacres, and many uniforms. Countess Wimpffen looked
very well in white satin, pearls, and diamond tiara, Wimpffen of course
in uniform and his broad ribbon, Cenci (now Prince de Vicovaro) attached
to the Court, was standing at one side of the Ambassadress presenting
all the Court people. The Princess, his wife, stood near by looking very
well, beautifully dressed, with diamonds and large pearl pendants. She was
wearing for the first time her decoration of dame de palais. All the
"White" Roman ladies were there. I saw quantities of people whom I knew.
W. also begins to know the people. He thought the Roman women very
distinguished looking, and the jewels splendid, particularly the pearls.
We stayed quite late, and decidedly amused ourselves. I was rather
interested in seeing when Madame de Wimpffen shook hands and when she
merely bowed. When W. was at the Foreign Office and we had big
receptions I was puzzled sometimes. My impulse was not to shake hands
with the men. W. and Richard thought I ought to shake hands with all the
Deputies, but that seemed a great undertaking and would, I think, have
surprised them, as Frenchmen as a rule are formal, don't shake hands
usually with ladies, but make rather a stiff bow, so I compromised by
shaking hands only with those I knew.
This afternoon W. and I went out together. We left several cards and
wound up in the Villa Borghese, where we walked about for some time. It
was lovely under the cypress trees, long dark avenues with a fountain at
one end--large vases--bits of half-ruined gateways, columns, and
unexpectedly a sort of rond or opening with fountains, statues, big
stones, all in a heap, and then long stretches of lawn with anemones,
violets, and a pretty little yellow flower I didn't know, all perfectly
neglected and growing wild, but with a wonderful charm. Such a contrast
when we emerged again into the regular promenade and the gay modern life
of Rome of to-day. There were quantities of carriages, three or four
four-in-hands with women in light dresses on the tops of the coaches;
men, principally officers, riding (in uniform, which always makes a gay
note), lots of victorias and open carriages. The Prince of Naples (with
the Royal red liveries) driving with one gentleman. He was dressed in
sailor dress, looked smiling and interested, and bowed all the time.
Three or four carriages filled with pretty girls--English or
American--looking hard at everything, and always bands of black-robed
students, seminarists from the various colleges which abound in Rome. It
is a curious motley crowd--I don't think one would see it anywhere else.
The clerical element is always well to the fore, and in spite of the
changes the Monarchy established, with all the train of courtiers,
deputies, soldiers, and endless functionaries that it brings, one feels
that it is the great centre of Catholicism, and that the long arm of the
Church still retains her hold on her children scattered all over the
world.
I will finish now as we have come home fairly early from the Pallavicini
reception. We dined at home and started off about 10. We went to get
Gert, and on arriving about 10.30 found ourselves almost the first
people. Felice Malatesta was there, also Del Monte. Both being
"Gardes-Nobles" they can only come early and not run the risk of meeting
any of the Court people nor diplomatists to the Quirinal. Princess
Pallavicini is one of the Queen's ladies, but she is such an old friend
of both gentlemen that they always go to her. Among the first arrivals
was Massari. He and W. and Prince Pallavicini had a nice talk, and it
amused me to see the people come in. There were about 30 (I knew a good
many of the Romans, but of course the Court people and Deputies were
strangers to me), Wimpffens, Noailles, St. Asilea, Somaglias, and a
sprinkling of young diplomatists. As soon as the White diplomatists
began to appear Del Monte and Malatesta departed. I had a talk with
Villamarina who is very musical, also with Vitelleschi. The party broke
up early--there was no music nor dancing (not even the little informal
"tour de valse" there used to be in our days) and we were home before 12
o'clock. W. enjoyed his evening--talked principally to the men.
Saturday, March 20, 1880.
W. is off this morning with Father Smith to San Clemente. I was lazy as
I was out all day yesterday. In the morning W. and I walked to the
Palazzo dei Cesari, and stayed there two hours walking about and sitting
down in the nice sunny places. It was beautifully bright, a splendid
blue sky, but cold, a sharp wind, very unusual they say for the end of
March. One gets a very fair walk on the Palatine Hill. There is so much
to see, and the little irregular paths running up and down from the
various temples and ruined buildings of all kinds give one plenty of
exercise. It needs a good deal of imagination to reconstruct all the
temples, tribunes, porticoes, and palaces which existed in the days of
Imperial Rome, but there are still bits of coloured marble, faded
frescoes, mosaics, tops of columns and broken statues in every
direction. W. was quite happy--he had already spent a morning there
with Lanciani, and so could show me what was still well enough preserved
for me to understand. The view from the terrace over Rome and the
Campagna was beautiful--the mountains seemed so near. We didn't walk
home as we found a botta which had just brought up a party of
forestieri--French this time, with a young priest, who was evidently the
guide.
Sunday, March 21, 1880.
We went to the American church this morning as Nevin was so anxious we
should see it. There is no very interesting French church--a sort of
Vaudois chapel--so we preferred the Capella Americana. It is a pretty
little church, very full--I should think a good many English as well as
Americans--very good singing and a good sermon, not too long. We had
visitors after lunch, and about 4 started for a drive out to Ponte
Nomentano. We got out and walked about the Campagna for some time. The
view was divine--Frascati and Rocca di Papa on one side, Tivoli on the
other. W. thought the old bridge most picturesque. He recognised it
instantly from the aquarelle that is in the dining-room at home. As it
was Sunday all the country people were out; carts filled with women and
children, boys on donkeys, sitting well back, almost on the tails of the
animals, and all the little courts in front of the various osterias
quite full. There were not exactly costumes, but there was a general
impression of colour. The men had bright coloured sashes and shirts--the
women nearly all red and blue skirts striped, and a coloured
handkerchief on their heads--almost all with long gold ear-rings (some
of the men too had ear-rings--large gold hoops) and a string of coloured
beads around their necks. Everybody talking, laughing, and enjoying
themselves. We stopped at the British Embassy for tea. Lady Paget
receives always Sunday afternoon. There were various carriages at the
door, and the villa looked pretty. The tea-table was on a broad palier
at the head of the stairs. It was very well arranged with screens
"cassoni," plants, arm-chairs--very original and attractive. I went in
first to the drawing-room and had a talk with Lady Paget, then adjourned
to the palier with Princess Sciarra and Countess Wimpffen, and we had a
very pleasant hour. It was amusing to see all the people coming up the
broad staircase. There were of course a great many I didn't know, as
besides all the Court set and political people there were many English,
all arriving for Holy Week. Mrs. Bruce, Madame Visconti Venosta, Gert,
Marquise Chigi came and joined us. I was quite horrified when I found
how late it was. We had just time to dress and go and dine with the
Geoffroys at the Palazzo Farnese. The evening was very pleasant;
decidedly archeological and scientific, but the men were all clever and
talked so well that they would have made any subject interesting. We had
Visconti, de Rossi, Lanciani, and some of the young men of the Ecole
Francaise. They all love Rome and know every stone. W. was quite in his
element, talked a great deal himself, and was much interested in their
excavations and all the curious things they are finding all the time. I
meant to leave early and go to Gert who had a few people at dinner, but
it was eleven o'clock before any one moved, and we went quietly home.
Good Friday, March 26, 1880.
I was too tired to-day to do anything, as yesterday we were out all day.
W. and I walked about in the morning, going into all sorts of churches
whenever we saw one open. There were always people, and in the smaller
churches they looked devout and absorbed, but the crowd of strangers in
the large, better known basilicas took away any religious feeling. It
all seemed a great show, which is practically what Holy Week is in Rome.
They say they have not had so many foreigners in years. Last night the
"gerant" begged us not to come downstairs until 8 o'clock, or even a
quarter past, as they needed all the small tables for the table-d'hote.
It was not so very crowded this morning as we breakfast at 12.30, much
earlier than the foreigners, who are usually English and come in for
luncheon at 1.30.
Yesterday afternoon we went to St. Peter's and found ourselves in a long
file of carriages going the same way; also all kinds of pedestrians,
priests, nuns, soldiers, artists, Cook's tourists, etc. W. was rather
horrified at the crowd in the church, and the regular "bousculade" at
the big doors. There was to be very good singing at one of the small
chapels, but it was already so full that we couldn't get in, though we
had cards from one of the Monsignori. We tried to make our way in but it
was utterly impossible, and then stood outside, thinking we might hear;
but the people all talked so much that we heard nothing except every now
and then a few notes in that curious, high, unnatural voice of the Papal
Choir. Two young German priests, with keen intelligent faces, were so
put out--begged the people near not to talk--"in zehn Minuten ist alles
vorueber" (in ten minutes it will be all over). All Rome was walking
about the church, talking and looking about as if they were in a great
hall of some kind--a crowd of strangers pushing, jostling, and trying to
get up to the High Altar, or the statue of St. Peter where all the
faithful were kissing the toe. It was certainly not solemn nor edifying,
except when we came upon a quiet corner, with some old chapel filled
with tombs of dead Romans, Popes or Princes, who had played a great part
in their day. That took us back into the past, and we could realize that
we were really in St. Peter's. I tried to show W. the part that was shut
off for the great Ecumenical Council under Pio Nono, but I couldn't
remember exactly. We shall come back another day with Father Smith who
will know all about it. I did find the Stuart monument with the busts of
Charles Edward and Cardinal York. People kept pouring into the church,
but it is so enormous that, except at certain places, it was quite easy
to circulate. All the women (except a few stray tourists) were in black,
and every now and then one saw a long file of seminaristes, also in
black, but with a coloured sash to mark their nationality. I think the
Americans wear blue--the French are quite black--no colour. We talked to
quantities of people--it was like an enormous reception. I was very
tired when we finally came out, as of course we were walking and
standing about all the time. There is no aisle with regular seats as in
most churches--merely a few prie-Dieu inside the side chapels. The drive
home was lovely--we went at a walk almost all the time, there were so
many carriages.
I went out after all this afternoon with W. and Monsignor English to St.
John Lateran, where they were singing a Miserere of Cappoci's. It is
most strange, weird music, and the voices of the men are so unlike
anything one hears elsewhere. There was always the same crowd. I will
say Cook does his business thoroughly--wherever there is anything to see
or hear he pilots all his band. After the Miserere was over we stood
some time at the foot of the Scala Santa. It was black with people going
up on their knees, saying a prayer at each step (I think there are 30)
and some of them did look serious and absorbed. They were principally
peasants--every now and then some well-dressed bourgeois. Monsignor
English told us we would be surprised at the class of people (society)
who come early, before the great crowd of sight-seers.
We went back to the Palazzo Altemps, picking up Count Palfy on the way,
where Gert had promised us tea and hot cross buns from Spillman's (very
good they were).
We found a note from the Quirinal when we came home saying the Queen
would receive us to-morrow at 2.30. Desprez came and sat some time. He
told W. all that was going on in Paris--the Ministry as usual struggling
against the Radicals who are always wanting to suppress the French
Embassy at the Vatican. It doesn't make the position of the Ambassador
very pleasant, but Desprez is very wise, has had long training at the
Foreign Office, and will certainly do all he can to conciliate and keep
things straight.
_To H. L. K._
Saturday, March 27, 1880.
It was raining this morning, and I was very glad. The dust was getting
most disagreeable in one's eyes and throat, and covering everything. I
am glad, too, that it is cool, decidedly, as I wanted to wear my blue
velvet. If it had been a bright warm day it would have looked dark and
heavy. It is four o'clock--we have just come in from our audience, and I
will write at once while the impression is fresh. W. has a "rendezvous"
with some of the French Institute people, and I shall not see him again
until dinner time. We got to the palace (a great ugly yellow building,
standing high) quickly enough, as there was no one in the streets at
that hour, and drove into the court-yard to a handsome entrance and
staircase. There were a few soldiers about, but not much movement. A
carriage came in behind us, and just as we were going upstairs some one
called my name. It was Bessie Brancaccio,[21] who had also an audience
with the Queen. She had come to thank her for her appointment as dame de
palais. I was glad to have just that glimpse of her, as they are not in
Rome this winter. Their beautiful house is not ready for them, so they
have been spending the winter in Nice. We walked through a large
anteroom where there were three or four servants and an "ecuyer," and in
the first salon we were received by the Comtesse Marcello, one of the
Queen's ladies, a Venetian and a great friend of Mary's, and the
gentleman-in-waiting, whose name I didn't master. We talked for a few
minutes--she said a lady was with the Queen. The room was handsome,
prettily furnished and opened into another--three or four, in fact, all
communicating. After about ten minutes we saw a lady come out of the end
room, the door of which was open, so Comtesse Marcello ushered us
through the suite. We went to the corner room, quite at the end, where
the Queen was waiting standing. We went through the usual ceremony. The
Comtesse Marcello made a low curtsey on the threshold, saying, "I have
the honour to present his Excellency, M. Waddington and Madame
Waddington," and instantly retired. The Queen was standing quite at the
end of the room (a lovely, bright corner room, with lots of windows and
a magnificent view over Rome--even on a dull day it looked cheerful and
spacious). I had ample time for my three curtseys. She let us come quite
close up to her, and then shook hands with us both and made us sit
down--I next to her on the sofa, W. in an arm-chair in front. I found
her rather changed since I had seen her. She has lost the girlish
appearance she had so long, and her manner was nervous, particularly at
first. When she began to talk and was interested and animated she was
more like what I remembered her as Princess Marguerite. She was dressed
in bronze satin, with a flowered brocade "casaque," and one string of
splendid pearls. She told W. she was very pleased to see him, remembered
that I had lived in Rome before my marriage, and asked if I still sang,
Vera had talked so much about the music in Casa Pierret, and the trios
we used to sing there with Lovatelli and Malatesta. The talk was most
easy, about everything, generally in French, but occasionally breaking
into English, which she speaks quite well. W. was delighted with
her--found her most interesting and "tres instruite"--not at all the
banal talk one expects to have with sovereigns--in fact, I quite forgot
we were having a royal audience. It was a very pleasant visit to a
charming woman, in a pretty room with all sorts of beautiful pictures
and "bibelots" about. While we were still there the Prince of Naples[22]
came in. We both got up; she told him to shake hands with W. and to kiss
me, and to ask me how old my little boy was, which he did quite simply
and naturally. He told his mother he was going to ride. I asked him if
he had a nice pony, to which he replied in English, "Oh, yes, jolly,"
and asked if my little boy rode. I said not yet; he was only two years
old. The child looked intelligent, but delicate. They say his mother
makes him work too much, is so ambitious for him; and he has rather that
look. The Princes of Savoy have always been soldiers rather than
scholars, but I suppose one could combine the two. The Queen also
spoke about the Bunsens, and "little Beatrice";[23] said she was very
fond of Mary. I was very sorry when the audience was over and she
dismissed me, saying she had people waiting.
[21] Princess Brancaccio, born Field.
[22] The present King.
[23] Now Mrs. Charles Loftus Townshend, of Castle Townshend, Ireland.
[Illustration: Queen Margherita and the Prince of Naples (Present King
of Italy) in 1880.]
We found Bessie and one or two other ladies in the first salon when we
came out, waiting their turn. Comtesse Marcello was delighted with all
W. said about the Queen. He was very enthusiastic, for him, as he is not
generally gushing. I told her she had remembered that I had lived some
years in Rome as Mary King, and she said: "Oh, yes, she remembered you
and all your family perfectly, and knew that you had married M.
Waddington."
Tuesday, March 30, 1880.
It is much pleasanter to-day--quite Spring-like, and the Piazza is full
of people. I have drawn my little writing table close up to the window,
and I am afraid my correspondence will suffer, as there is always so
much to see. Almost all the little botte have departed, in fact W., who
has just started off with Visconti for the Vatican to look at the coins,
took the last one. Cook's two big omnibuses have also just started for
Tivoli--crammed. Some of the people dashed into Nazzari's, and
reappeared with little paper bags, filled evidently with goodies.
Yesterday W. and I breakfasted again at the Noailles', and they took us
over the palace (Farnese) which is quite splendid, such enormous rooms
and high ceilings. The great gallery with the famous Carracci frescoes
looked beautiful in the daylight, and we saw them much better. The
colours are still quite wonderful, hardly faded, some of the figures so
graceful and life-like. Madame de Noailles' bed-room and dressing-room
are huge. The enormous bedstead hardly took up any room at all. She
said it took her some little time to accustom herself to such very
spacious apartments, she almost had the impression of sleeping in the
streets.
We went for a drive afterward out of Porta Maggiore to look at the
Baker's tomb--do you remember it, a great square tomb with rows of
little cells? We wandered about on foot for some time, looked at the
bits that remain of the old Roman road, and then drove out some distance
toward the arches of the Claudian Viaduct. It is the road we shall take
when we go to Tivoli. It was not quite clear, so the hills hadn't the
beautiful colour they have when the sun is on them--but the grey
atmosphere seems to suit the Campagna, which is after all a long stretch
of barren, desolate country broken at intervals by the long lines of
aqueducts--every now and then a square tower standing out straight and
solitary against the sky, and hardly visible until one comes close upon
it, and a few shepherds' huts, sometimes with a thatched roof, sometimes
what remains of an old tomb, with a dried-up old woman apparently as old
as the tomb spinning in the doorway. We met very few vehicles of any
description.
We dined at the Palazzo della Consulta where Cairoli, Foreign Minister,
lives. There were not many women--Madame de Noailles, Gert, Madame de
Sant' Onofrio (wife of one of Cairoli's secretaries), and quantities of
men. They divided the honours--Cairoli took in Madame de
Noailles--Madame Cairoli, W. The Prefet of Rome, Gravina, took me and
put me on Cairoli's left. We all talked Italian, and I rather enjoyed
myself. I told Gravina how much I preferred "Roma com' era," that the
new buildings and the boulevards and the bustle and the quantities of
people had spoiled the dear, dead, old Rome of our days--to which he
replied "but you, Madame, are an American born, you surely can't be
against progress." Oh, no, I like progress in my own country, but
certainly not here. Rome was never intended to be modern and
go-ahead--it didn't go with the monuments and the ruins and the
traditions of old Rome. However he answered me quite seriously that not
only every country, but every individual, must "marcher," or else they
would "deperir." Cairoli joined in the conversation, others too, and
there was rather an interesting discussion as to how much could be left
to sentiment, association of the past, etc., when an old historic city
was being transformed into a busy, modern, political centre.