index of my Bunsen Memoirs till within ten minutes of my departure. Upon
the passage of the Mont Cenis I came in for terrible snowdrifts.
Suddenly, after passing the tunnel, the walls of snow increased on each
side of the train so as almost to block out the light, and, with a dull
thud, the train came to a standstill near the wretched village of Oulx.
An avalanche had fallen upon the luggage train which was pioneering our
way, and three poor men were engulfed in it. The cold was terrific, and
the suffering was increased in my case, because, having usually been
much tried by the overheating of foreign trains, I had brought no
carriage-rug or other wraps with me. After some time a way was cut
through the snow walls to a miserable tavern, where sixteen ladies
decided to sleep or cower in one wretched room and twelve gentlemen in
another, but I gladly made my way back to the carriage before the
passage was blocked again. It was then two in the afternoon, and wearily
the day wore on into night, and still more wearily passed the night
hours, with snow always falling thickly. I had a little brandy in the
carriage, but no food. The suffering from cold was anguish. There were
several invalid ladies in the train, for whom I felt greatly, knowing
what this catastrophe would have been in times past before I was alone.
Before morning two more avalanches had fallen behind us and the return
to France was cut off. The telegraph wires were all broken, and the
guard assured us that it was possible we might be detained days, or even
weeks. At midday, cold and hunger made me try the hovel once more, but
the filth and smells again drove me back to the carriage. At 4 P.M.,
however, on the second day, a welcome shouting announced that our
deliverance was at hand. No trains arriving at Turin, our position was
suspected, and the town-firemen were sent out _en masse_ to cut a way
for us. At 6 P.M. we were released from our twenty-eight hours’
imprisonment, but the way was so dangerous, that we did not reach Turin
till long after midnight.
* * * * *
_To_ MISS LEYCESTER.
“_26 Piazza di Spagna; Rome, Nov. 25, 1878._--You will imagine how
touching--I shall never grow used to it--was the slow approach by rail
round the walls of Rome, crossing all the little lanes _we_ knew so well
in our drives, and seeing, one after another, S. Paolo, the Caius
Cestius, the Porta S. Sebastiano, S. Giovanni in Olio, Porta Maggiore,
the Minerva Medica, and then the vast space once occupied by the
beautiful Villa Negroni, but now parcelled out for straight streets and
stuccoed houses.
“Yet, considering it is four years since I was here last, the changes
are not great yet: the same old man with peaked hat and long beard and
the same pretty girls stand waiting as models: the same old stonecutter
is grinding away under the Tempietto, and Francesco threw open Miss
Garden’s door and announced (simply) ‘Il Signorino,’ as if I had been
there the day before.
“On Sunday, Umberto and Margherita of Savoy made a triumphal entry into
Rome, and I went to the Palazzo della Consulta to see them arrive at the
Quirinal. It was an exquisitely beautiful evening--not a breath of air
stirring the many flags: the obelisk and statues and the grand fountain
of Pius VII. were in deep shadow, but the sun was glinting through the
old ilexes in the Colonna Gardens and illuminated S. Peter’s and the
town in the hollow. There was an immense crowd of every class, from
ex-guardia nobile to peasants in the costumes of Sora and Aquino, and
through them all the vast procession of sixty carriages moved to the
palace, with flags flying, and flowers falling, and cannon thundering,
and the one little bell of the royal chapel tinkling away as hard as it
could, because the other churches would make no sign. ‘I Sovrani,’ as
all the people called them, looked very proud and happy, and Queen
Margherita marvellously graceful, and pleased to see the millions of
marguerites, which people were wearing in honour of her. The little
Principe de Napoli is quite hideous, but they say well brought up under
an English governess, and King Umberto in every way seems to wish to
reform his dissolute father’s court, as well as to screen his memory,
having taken the whole of his enormous debts upon himself, besides
paying off Victor Emmanuel’s eight ‘domestic establishments’ out of his
private purse. The King and Queen came out upon the balcony of the
Quirinal, and were triumphantly received. (Next after the royal
carriages had come a fourgon with the bouquets presented at the
station.) Last night there was a torchlight procession, tens of
thousands bearing torches, with music, banners, and gigantic
marguerites, who passed through the Piazza di Spagna on their way to the
Quirinal. _Still_, taxes are rather increasing them otherwise; the
misery of the formerly prosperous Romans is extreme, and many think a
revolution imminent.
“Monsignor Prosperi is dead. I wonder if you remember about that most
extraordinary person, who was supposed to have the evil eye. The Romans
believe that all the many misfortunes of this year, and the attacks on
royalty, &c., are because it fell to his turn to _cantare la missa_ at
S. Maria Maggiore on the first day of the year. No end of shipwrecks and
railway accidents are attributed to him, and so the poor man’s death is
a subject of general rejoicing. It is recollected that after the last
visit he ever paid, the servant of the house fell down on the stairs,
and cut his eye open with the Monsignore’s visiting-card which he held
in his hand.”
* * * * *
On arriving in Rome, I had found a tolerable little apartment for myself
in 29 Piazza di Spagna, and the Prince Royal established in the charming
sunny first floor of the Palazzo Rocca-Giovine in the Forum of Trajan.
Thither I used daily, often twice a day, to go to the Prince. From the
first he welcomed me very cordially, and I could see that he was really
glad of my coming, still I was uncertain whether there would ever be
more than an interchange of courtesy and duty between us. I never hoped
to be able to give him the real affection I afterwards so sincerely
felt. Somewhat to my consternation, I was desired by the King to fix my
first lecture for the Prince for one of the very first days after my
arrival, in order that Baron Holtermann, marshal of the palace, who was
returning to Stockholm, might take back a full account of “how it went”
to their Majesties. The Queen added her special request that I would say
nothing except in English, in order to force the Prince-Royal to learn
that language.
As being the central feature and axis of ancient Rome, I chose the
Capitoline for my first lecture. General and Mrs. Stuart and Lady Agnes
Douglas met me there at the top of the steps, and waited for the Prince,
who arrived on foot with Baron Holtermann and two other Swedish
gentlemen. I doubt at first whether they understood a word I said in
English, and the being obliged constantly to translate into French or
bad German did not add to the liveliness of the lecture. Our procession
passed from point to point in the most funereal manner. The Prince made
no observation whatever, Romulus, the Tarpeian Rock, Marcus Aurelius
passing equally unnoticed; only when we came to Palazzo Caffarelli he
said, “Oh, that was where Mim Bunsen was born:” it had touched a
chord of human interest.
[Illustration: Gustaf, Crown Prince of
Sweden-Norway.]
I wonder what sort of account of this lecture Baron Holtermann can have
taken to the Swedish court; but we did better next time, when, on the
Palatine, the Prince’s spirits quite rose over all the murders of the
emperors and empresses. In the latter part of the winter, the lectures,
which took place three times a week, were quite an enjoyment, he was so
merry, so kind and pleasant to every one, so glad to know everything.
Very soon, after consultation with M. de Printzsköld, the Queen’s
chamberlain, who had accompanied the Prince to Rome, I proposed going
twice a week to read English with the Prince in the late afternoon,
which was gladly accepted, and on those occasions we read “Mademoiselle
Mori” alternately, and translated “Tolla” into English. It was in the
little conversations which inevitably interspersed themselves with these
readings that I first learnt to know my Prince really well. The readings
themselves he found it very difficult to attend to, and the exercises he
prepared for me were much against the grain, so we did not make much
progress till I obtained an order from the Queen that the equerries
should do the same exercises as the Prince, which roused his ambition,
and he went ahead at once, and always did much better than his
companions. I think it is Adam Smith who says that “the great secret of
education is to direct vanity to proper objects.” After our lessons, I
always dined with the Prince, sitting on his right hand. Afterwards the
Prince and his Swedish gentlemen smoked, and as soon as it was possible
to do it, I took my leave, except on evenings when I went out into the
world with the Prince. But for the most part the Prince’s evenings were
spent at home, the Italian court showing him no attention, and scarcely
any of the Roman princes inviting him, except during the Carnival. Old
Lady Morton was throughout exceedingly kind and helpful where the Prince
was concerned, and gave several parties for him. At these, the Prince’s
distant cousins, Princess Gabrielli, Countess Primoli, and Countess
Campello, the round fat elderly daughters of Lucien Bonaparte, were
always present.[291] They were pleasant sensible women, especially
Countess Primoli (Princess Charlotte Bonaparte). Having all married
beneath their rank, they always made a point of going in and out of a
room in the order of their age, which had often a funny effect.
Of all the people who welcomed me back to Rome, the most cordial were
the blind Duke and the Duchess of Sermoneta, whom I was delighted to
find established for the winter in the upper floor of the old Caëtani
Palace. Since her marriage, the Duchess had contrived to conciliate the
whole Caëtani family, not only to herself, but to each other. She had
also ransacked the unknown corners of the palace, and had found endless
old hangings, old portraits, &c., things almost valueless in themselves,
but which gave the bare walls a look of historic antiquity. I often took
the Prince to the evening receptions of the Duchess, at which, as at all
the princely Roman houses, some tea and very sour lemonade were
considered quite sufficient as refreshments. Without the Prince, I often
dined with the Sermonetas at their homely early excellent Italian
dinner, and an oasis in commonplace life was meeting there the Abbot
Marcaldi of La Cava, the Abbot Pescitelli of Farfa, and a most beautiful
old Don Pietro Tailetti, canon of St. Peter’s--like a mediaeval picture.
They had all wished to see me, from their pleasure in the chapter on the
Benedictine rule in “Days near Rome.”
* * * * *
_To_ MARY LEA GIDMAN.
[Illustration: CORNETO.][292]
[Illustration: CATHEDRAL OF CORNETO.][293]
“_Dec. 11, 1878._--I always see the Prince now with increased
satisfaction and an increasing certainty that he likes having me with
him. I also feel that I _am_ able to be to him all that the Queen of
Sweden wished, of which at first I was uncertain. In our walks he asks
so many questions about what he sees, that I have to work hard in the
evenings before to prepare myself to answer properly, for I find that I
have forgotten much of the detail of my Roman history, &c.... Last week
we went for the whole day to Corneto, eating an excellent breakfast
provided by the Prince’s cook in the train. Professor Helbig, who had
preceded us, met us at the station with a little omnibus. With this we
went up into the high hills above old Tarquinii, and then descended with
torches into the great sepulchres, where the dead of two thousand years
ago are seen (in terra-cotta figures as large as life) sitting round at
imaginary banquets, while the walls are covered with paintings of their
deeds in life--hunting, fishing, dancing, &c., as fresh in colour as
when they were painted. Then we went to visit a Countess Bruschi, who
had a great collection of jewels and other beautiful things found in the
tombs. This lady was the only person to whom we revealed who the Prince
Royal was; but whilst we were at dinner the secret transpired, for there
came from the Bruschi palace a bouquet of the most magnificent roses,
like a sheaf, carried by two footmen, and another bouquet of camellias,
arranged in a huge citron; and then the governor of the town arrived to
make a little speech, to which the Prince gave a suitable answer, which
I had to translate into Italian; and then all the people found out, and
came to look at the Prince.”
* * * * *
On Christmas Day I received a telegram from the Queen of Sweden
expressing her good wishes, and thanks for the kindness shown to her
son. From a letter received about the same time from Countess Rosen I
extract:--
* * * * *
“_Stockholm, Dec. 18, 1878._--H.M. the Queen charges me to convey to you
her thanks for your letters, which are very welcome. The Queen says you
manage to tell just what interests her most about the doings of the
Crown Prince. Both the Queen and the King thank you heartily for all
your kind interest in the Crown Prince, and they perceive already that
you have succeeded in gaining a good and useful influence over him, and
that you have kindled up his interest for all that now surrounds him.
The Queen is charmed if you write often, but she is afraid that it takes
up too much of your time, which is much taxed already through all that
you do for the Prince....
“The Queen begs you to write with perfect frankness, even when
everything is not quite as one would wish it to be. Be sure that what
you say will never be misunderstood.”
* * * * *
_To_ MISS LEYCESTER.
“_Dec. 5, 1878._--I think my last letter may have expressed some of the
depression I certainly felt as to the uncertainty of my position with
the Prince Royal, and I know with how much pleasure you will hear that
these clouds have completely cleared away. I have increasing, indeed I
have now _perfect_ satisfaction in my position with the Prince, and in
the internal conviction that I can and may be to him all that the Queen
has wished. The great secret is, I suppose, that I am becoming really
very fond of him. He not only daily unfolds new gifts and graces for
every one, but he is hourly pleasanter and more charming in all his
relations to me, and I have now the certainty that I am most welcome to
him; but indeed he has always treated me with entire confidence, though
you will easily understand that had he possessed the slightest shadow of
small-mindedness, he must have looked upon me with a sort of suspicion,
from the intimacy with which his parents have honoured me, and my
constant letters--which he knows _must_ be about himself--to the Queen.
“To-day my lecture for him was on the Aventine. At S. Sabina I sent in
notice of their visitor to the Abbot and the Father-General of the
Dominicans, and in his honour the two ladies of our party, Countess
Barnekow and Lady Agnes Douglas, were allowed to penetrate the inmost
recesses of the convent, and to visit the cell of S. Dominic, with his
exquisitely beautiful picture, and the cell of S. Pius V. As we came out
of the church, the Abbot presented the Prince with a large basket of
oranges and apples, and some leaves from the sacred tree of S. Dominic,
and the Father-General with photographs of the convent pictures and
view. Afterwards we visited the lovely Priorato garden, still full of
flowers, and S. Prisca, and the wild, beautiful Vigna dei Gesuiti.”
* * * * *
It was one of the wise and kind thoughts of the Queen at this time to
make it appear to the Prince that an eagerly coveted permission to go to
Bucharest and Athens upon leaving Rome was granted in consequence of my
petition in his favour. And indeed it was granted--as a Christmas
gift--in consequence of my letters to the Queen as to the progress he
was making, &c. I often wonder whether my letters to the court of Sweden
of this winter have been preserved: I wrote such volumes, often
illustrating them with sketches, &c.--“Memoires _pour servir_ pour la
vie du Prince Royal.”
* * * * *
_To_ MISS LEYCESTER.
“_Dec. 19, 1878._--Ere this you will probably have received Madame de
Bunsen’s Life ‘from the author.’ There is much in it which will interest
you, some things you will not like. So it is with everything and
everybody. But I am quite satisfied that it is the most truthful
portrait _I_ could have painted, and I trust it may worthily commemorate
my dear old friend.
“The news of Princess Alice’s death, announced in a sermon on Sunday,
was quite a shock, as I had not heard of her being ill; and she was so
kind to me when here, and so interested and amused in correcting ‘Walks
in Rome.’
“My dear Prince is very well and happy and enjoying everything. I see
him daily, generally for half each day, but have very little new to say
about it. I have found a passage about Charles I., by Cowley I think,
which expresses just what I hope may be said of him some day: ‘Never was
there a more gracious Prince or a more proper gentleman. In every
pleasure he was temperate, in conversation mild and grave, in friendship
constant, to his servants liberal, to his Queen faithful and loving, in
battle brave, in sorrow and captivity resolved, in death most Christian
and forgiving.’
“The Queen writes through the Countess Rosen that she is delighted that
I am going with the Prince to Florence, and that it was quite the
Prince’s own idea; but she fears I shall find him rather a dull
companion there, as he has very little taste for picture-galleries.”
* * * * *
“_Jan. 6, 1879._--I was very glad to part with 1878--a year of many
sorrows--dear Miss Wright’s death the greatest. On the last evening I
went to Mrs. Terry’s, where Miss Trollope sang exquisitely ‘Should auld
acquaintance be forgot’ in the last minutes of the year.
“My last lecture for the Prince was upon the last days of S. Paul, going
to the pyramid of Caius Cestius, the last surviving witness of his life,
to the desolate Tre Fontane, and then to the huge basilica which sprung
from his martyrdom. At the Tre Fontane the Prince found a beautiful
piece of old marble railing and a fine fragment of pietra-dura pavement,
used to wall in a flower-bed; bought them, and he and I lugged them back
to the carriage between us. He is now very happy, and (though there
_are_ black days) enjoys everything very much. We have increased our
little party by the handsome widowed ‘Anne, Countess of Dunraven,’ and
the charming Countess Schulenberg, a North Prussian.
“The Prince and I dined with Lady Morton the other day, meeting Prince
and Princess Altieri, Prince and Princess Sulmona, Countess Apponyi, &c.
I was very glad that he should meet this completely ‘black’ party, as he
has had few opportunities of meeting that phase of politics. On Thursday
the Duchess Sermoneta gives another party for him, to which she has
taken the fancy to ask all the ‘learned’ people in Rome. My poor Prince
will not make much of them, but will be amused with many, especially
with Donna Ursilia Lovatelli, who likes to converse in Sanscrit, and who
had to be told that she must not bring with her more aides-de-camp than
the Prince (four); as her ‘court,’ as she calls it, which likes to
follow her, sometimes numbers sixty persons. Madame Minghetti will also
bring _her_ court, which is far more Bohemian, amusing, and agreeable.
“But daily I feel more the force of something which I think was said by
Charles V. of France: ‘On doit nourrir les princes des vertus, afin
qu’ils surmontent en mœurs ceux qu’ils doivent surmonter en
honneurs.’”
* * * * *
“_Dec. 29._--I am glad to hear of my book, which I have not seen, though
it reached Stockholm long ago. It is a pleasure to have an outburst of
approval from the Bunsens. Of reviews I think little, knowing how they
scarcely ever have anything to do with the merits or demerits of a work,
but only with the wish of an editor to advantage or injure an author:
besides, the newspapers all copy one another, only changing the words.
“We have had burning sun and intense scirocco here, which of course
means a great deal of rain, and there have been torrents each day, but
lovely effects between, such masses of cloud rolling over St. Peter’s,
with brilliant light falling through upon the many-domed town, and
tremendous conflagrations at sunset. I spent Christmas Eve at the
Palazzo Colonna, where the Duchess Marino had an immense Christmas-tree
for her servants and friends, and a merry party of children. A prettier
sight than the tree was the little Duchess herself, in a white silk
dress, with a long lace veil looped upon her head and enveloping her
figure, ceaselessly carrying presents to servants, poor women, &c. She
is really charming, with simple, sincere, cordial manners, and her
husband is most pleasant, the very best type of an Italian gentleman.
Donna Olympia Colonna was at the tree--very bridal-looking, bright, and
pretty.
“With the Prince I have ever more entire satisfaction. I constantly see
more of him, and have daily increasing affection for him. Of course the
position is not perfect, but I expect this in everything, and am quite
sure of his absolute confidence to a degree which I never expected. I
am happy in feeling that Rome _is_ doing for him all that the Queen
hoped, but which I did not, and that he will return to her indescribably
improved in every way. I suppose people who have children of their own
are familiar with it, but I could not have conceived before the interest
of watching the gradual unfolding and expansion of a character to which
one utterly devotes oneself; and with him all was new, it was entirely
fallow ground to work upon.
“One day we went to Frascati by rail, taking with us Count and Countess
Barnekow and Count and Countess Lievenhaupt, Swedes, and Lady Agnes
Douglas. While Lady Agnes did the honours of some of the villas, M. de
Printzsköld and I got an excellent though thoroughly Roman dinner ready
at the little inn, and afterwards the ladies had donkeys, the Prince a
horse, and we others walked up to Tuseulum. Here the Prince was very
happy picking up mosaics in the long grass, and eventually insisted on
excavating, and lugging back to Rome in his arms, a great mass, as big
as that in the verandah at Holmhurst. We came down by the great desolate
villa of Mondragone, and returned to Rome in the evening laden with fern
and butcher’s-broom, which, with its bright scarlet berries, is the
Roman apology for holly.
“The Prince _hates_ the churches, and generally has to be bribed to bear
them with equanimity by the promise of a little marble-hunt in some
vineyard afterwards, when it is amusing to see the whole party fall to
grubbing simultaneously among the artichokes. It has been hard work
refusing the endless people who want to go with us, but besides Lady
Dunraven we have only admitted pretty little Miss Trollope, the
historian’s daughter. I like Princess Teano very much, and am charmed
with her anxiety to make the very most of all she sees, and Lord
Hylton’s boy, George Jolliffe, is delightful, brimming with enthusiasm
and intelligence.”
* * * * *
JOURNAL.
“_Feb. 20, 1879._--Each day, as I have known the Prince Royal better, I
have liked him more. He has no sense of beauty and no care for it, and
he has naturally very few of my tastes, but he has the most transparent,
truthful, simple, loyal character I have ever known, and he has ever
been unspeakably kind and affectionate to me. We have been wonderfully
thrown together, even all the little circumstances intended by others to
divide us having acted the other way, and made us cling to each other
with truest friendship.
“All the earlier part of the winter I continued my lectures for him, in
which we visited almost every remarkable object in Rome. Our party was
much increased latterly, one of its most interesting elements being the
Prussian Countess Schulenberg, with whom I formed a great friendship. I
wish now that I had written down the many conversations of interest I
had with her; she left suddenly in January to take care of a sick cousin
in Germany.
“One of the last evenings of the year was spent in the Palazzo Colonna
with the sweet little Duchess of Marino. She is a great addition and
enlivenment to the dull egotistical Roman society, and is brimming with
good intentions and high aspirations, many of which she is really able
to carry out. Greatly, for instance, did she astonish modern Rome, with
its vulgar attempts at exclusiveness, by opening her rooms for a grand
party in the noble old Roman style, in which princes and sculptors met
on equal terms, and artists were as cordially received as if they were
ambassadors.
“Amongst the acquaintance who came to me with the New Year were the
Dutch Minister and Madame de Westenberg, his American wife, from whom I
have received much cordiality. Other people with whom I have been
intimate are the admirable Swedish Count and Countess Barnekow, the
latter especially charming, and full of life and intelligence. The Count
has been taking the post of consul here this year, but they have been
welcomed in all societies. There is something quite charming in their
relation to their children--little girls--and their influence over them.
Of these, the second, Elisabet, was compelled at six years old to have
her finger amputated. The mother prepared her for it, and told her how
terribly it would add to her distress if she did not bear the operation
bravely. The child said she could bear it if only they did not tell her
it was nothing: she knew it was dreadful, but if no one attempted to
deceive her she could bear a dreadful thing. She sat on the surgeon’s
knee while the finger was being taken off; she never uttered a sound,
and when the operation was over, she kissed him to show she bore no
malice!
[Illustration: PERUGIA.][294]