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 Ugh St. Jr New St., x 
 SALiStfUKY. 
 
 This Book is supplied by MESSRS. SMITH, 
 ELDER & Co. to Booksellers on terms which will 
 not admit of their allowing a discount from the 
 advertised price.
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS 
 OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 Elena, Queen of Italy.
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS OF 
 A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 
 
 January— May, 1880 
 February— April, 1904 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY KING WADDINGTON 
 
 illustrated from drawings 
 and photographs 
 
 SMITH, ELDER & CO. 
 LONDON :: :: :: :: :: 1905
 
 Copyright, 1905, by Charles Scribner's Sons, for the 
 United States of America 
 
 Printed by the Trow Directory, Printing and Bookbinding Company 
 New York, U. S. A.
 
 -too 
 W//X 
 
 NOTE 
 
 In December, 1879, M. William Henry Waddington 
 resigned the Premiership of France, and the follow- 
 ing month, accompanied by his wife, left Paris for 
 a winter of rest and recreation in Italy, chiefly in 
 Rome. The letters from Madame Waddington to 
 her mother and sister, which constitute " Part I " of 
 this volume, describe this journey and residence. 
 Those forming ''Part II" relate the incidents of a 
 similar Roman sojourn some twenty years later, M. 
 Waddington having died in the meantime. The two 
 series together compose a picture of life and society 
 in the Italian capital with a wide range of contrast 
 and comparison, corresponding with those of Lon- 
 don and Moscow in the well-known "Letters of a 
 Diplomat's Wife " by the same writer.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Elena, Queen of Italy .... Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 Mrs. Charles King 
 
 President Charles King of Columbia College, New- 
 York City ........ 30 
 
 The Spanish Steps . . . . . . .52 
 
 In the Piazza di Spagna, Rome. 
 
 Pope Leo XIII 60 
 
 King Humbert of Italy ...... 66 
 
 Queen Margherita of Italy 76 
 
 Queen Margherita and King Humbert ... 84 
 
 Queen Margherita and the Prince of Naples 
 
 (Present King of Italy) in 1880 ... 94 
 
 Victoria, Crown Princess of Germany . . .104 
 
 Gardens of the Villa Torlonia, Formerly Villa 
 Conti, Frascati, Opposite the Villa Marconi, 
 Where we Spent the Summer of 1867 . .108 
 
 Tomb of Viniciano, Between Frascati and Tus- 
 
 culum . . . . . . . . .112 
 
 Grounds of the Villa Doria-Pamphili, Rome . 116 
 
 From an unpublished photograph taken about iSbq. 
 
 Pope Pius IX 145
 
 Vlll 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Last Benediction of Pope Pius IX. from the Bal 
 cony of St. Peter's .... 
 
 St. Peter's from the Pincio 
 
 The Barberini Palace .... 
 
 The residence of the Storys. 
 
 Victor Emanuel III., King of Italy 
 Pope Pius X. ..... . 
 
 Great New Bridge from Albano to Ariccia 
 
 Built by Pope Pius IX. 
 
 Roman Huntsmen on the Campagna 
 
 A ncient Roman aqueduct in the background. 
 
 Waiting for the Hounds .... 
 Cardinal Antonelli ..... 
 
 From a portrait painted for the Grand Duke of Saxe- Weimar. From 
 a pliotograph given to Madame Waddington by the Hereditary 
 Grand Duchess of Saxe- Weimar at Rome. 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 158 
 172 
 238 
 
 244 
 250 
 264 
 
 266 
 
 268 
 288 
 
 The Dining-room in the Brancaccio Palace 
 
 3°4
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS 
 OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE
 
 PART I 
 ITALY IN THE EIGHTIES 
 
 To G. K. S* 
 
 31, RUE DUMONT D'URVILLE, PARIS, 
 
 January 10, 1880. 
 
 Well, dear, here I am back again in my little hotel, 
 and very small and uncomfortable it looks — like a doll's 
 house after the enormous rooms of the Quai d'Orsay — 
 however I am very glad to be a private individual once 
 more (no longer a " femme publique " as our friend 
 used to say). Our departure was hurried, as once W.f 
 had made up his mind and resigned he wanted to get 
 away at once. We got off in two days, which I thought 
 quite wonderful. Of course ever since the opening of the 
 session in November it was evident that he couldn't stay. 
 He and his Ministers were hardly ever agreed on any 
 point, and it wasn't worth while for him to spend his 
 energy and intelligence in trying to carry out a policy 
 which neither the Chamber nor the country apparently 
 desired. There were endless conferences all through 
 December, but it was clear that it was time for him to go. 
 
 The weather was something awful — bitterly cold — the 
 Seine frozen tight, booths and games established, and 
 
 * Mrs. Eugene Schuyler, nee King. 
 
 t W. here and throughout these letters refers to M. William Henry Wad- 
 dington, Madame Waddington's husband. 
 
 3 *
 
 4 ITALIAN LETTERS Dan. 
 
 everybody sliding about and trying to skate — but that 
 was under difficulties as the ice was rough and uneven. 
 I walked over with Francis,* that he might say he had 
 walked across the Seine. We had great difficulty in 
 warming the house — many trains with wood and coal 
 were blocked just outside Paris, and nothing could get 
 in. I don't know what we should have done, but happily 
 the Ministre de la Guerre gave us an order to take some 
 wood from some depot in Paris where they had a pro- 
 vision ; so for the two days before we moved in great 
 fires were going in the calorifere. I really think the only 
 person who hated to leave the Quai d'Orsay was Francis. 
 He was furious at seeing all his things packed up, and 
 was carried out to the carriage kicking and screaming — 
 " veux pas quitter ma maison — veux pas aller vilaine 
 petite maison." The huissiers (6, all standing solemnly 
 in a row to say good-bye) were much impressed, and the 
 old grey-headed Pierson who has been there for years 
 and seen many Ministers depart, remarked — " au moins 
 Monsieur Francis est desole de partir." It seemed funny 
 to drive out of the big gates for the last time. I wonder 
 if I shall ever go through them again. Things go so 
 quickly in France now. 
 
 You can't conceive anything more uncomfortable than 
 this house to-day — no carpets down nor curtains up; all 
 the furniture, books, rugs, dumped in the middle of the 
 rooms, and the hall and corridors full of trunks and 
 boxes. W. has had a steady stream of people ever since 
 we arrived — some to condole — some (old friends) to con- 
 gratulate him upon no longer serving such an infecte 
 government — some a little embarrassed to explain that, 
 though they regret him extremely, still . . . they 
 must serve their country, and hope he wont take it amiss 
 
 * Francis, son of M. and Madame Waddington.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 5 
 
 if they make up to the rising sun (in the shape of Frey- 
 cinet, who has taken W.'s place). I expect we shall 
 have some curious experiences. When one is no longer 
 in power it is surprising how things change their aspect. 
 I had to settle the salons as soon as I could as I had 
 invited a big party for Francis's Christmas Tree, think- 
 ing it would be at the Quai d'Orsay. I didn't want to 
 put the people off — particularly the diplomatists who have 
 all been most civil and proper — so after a consultation 
 with Kruft — (chef du materiel at the Quai d'Orsay) who 
 had already begun to make his preparations, I decided 
 to have it here, and Kruft and one of his men came and 
 helped dress it. Of course the tree had to be cut at the 
 top — our rooms are fairly high, but nothing like the Quai 
 d'Orsay naturally — but it looked rather prettier, quite 
 covered with toys and shiny ornaments. Francis had 
 beautiful presents — a hand-organ with a monkey on top 
 from Madame Sibbern, the wife of the Swedish Minister, 
 from which he can't be extracted. He can't turn it alone, 
 but some of the bigger children helped him, and we had 
 the " Cloches de Corneville " and " Niniche " almost all 
 the afternoon. There were about 100 people, children 
 and parents, and the rooms looked pretty. All the peo- 
 ple and lights warmed them too — it wasn't quite so 
 Siberian. We couldn't attempt cooking of any kind as 
 the kitchen range was out of order, and besides we hadn't 
 fuel enough — l'Oncle Alphonse * who lives next door 
 feeds us. W. and I go to him for breakfast and dinner, 
 and his chef (a very distinguished artist and well dressed 
 gentleman — quite a superior person — Monsieur Double) 
 submits Francis's menu every morning to Nounou, as he 
 says he has no experience with children. 
 
 We have decided to go to Italy for two or three months, 
 
 * M. Alphonse Sutteroth, ancien diplomatist under Louis Philippe.
 
 6 ITALIAN LETTERS [Jan. 
 
 and shall make Rome our headquarters. W. has never 
 been there, and says it wouldn't be worth while going 
 for less than three months. What fun it will be to be 
 there together — I can hardly believe it is true. I am 
 sure we are wise to get away. There must always be 
 little jarring things when one has been in office some 
 time — and it would be rather a bore to W. to take his 
 place as senator and be in opposition to the present Min- 
 istry. If he stayed in Paris he would have to take part 
 in all the discussions, and would certainly be interviewed 
 by all sorts of people to whom he would say nothing (he 
 never does — he hates newspaper people) but they would 
 say he did all the same, and so many people believe im- 
 plicitly whatever they see in a paper. The Minister has 
 offered W. the London Embassy, but he wont take it, 
 doesn't wish to have any function of any kind at pres- 
 ent. He is looking forward to long, happy hours in 
 Rome, deciphering all the old inscriptions, and going over 
 the old city with Lanciani * and some of his literary 
 friends. 
 
 January 12, 1880. 
 After all I have been back to the Ouai d'Orsay. W. 
 said I must go and make a formal visit to Madame de 
 Freycinet (who is a very nice woman — a Protestant, and 
 has one daughter — a charming intelligent girl). Hen- 
 rietta and I went together, taking Francis with us, who 
 was delighted as soon as he got to the Place de la 
 Concorde and crossed the bridge — " C'est Paris — C'est 
 Paris." Poor little boy — the rue Dumont d'Urville is 
 so quiet, nothing passing and nothing to see when he 
 looks out of the window. He was always at the window 
 at the Quai d'Orsay looking at the boats, the soldiers, 
 
 * Director of Excavations in Rome under Rossi.
 
 isso] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 9 
 
 Our last Friday one of my friends had been in, very 
 much taken up with the journey to Rome — her clothes, 
 the climate, which hotel was the best, etc. When she 
 went out in a whirl of talk and excitement I turned to 
 one of the 14 women who were seated in a semicircle 
 on each side of me, and by way of continuing the conver- 
 sation said : " 111 me semble qu'on serait tres bien a 
 l'Hotel de Londres a Rome en plein soleil," to which she 
 replied haughtily " Je n'en sais rien, Madame, je n'ai 
 jamais quitte Paris, et je m'en vante." W. wouldn't 
 believe it, but as I told him I couldn't have invented it. 
 I was rather sorry I hadn't pursued the conversation, and 
 asked her why she was so proud of that particular phase 
 of her life. I suppose she must have had a reason, which 
 naturally I couldn't understand, having begun my career 
 so very far away from either Rome or Paris. It is a 
 real pleasure though to be back in my own salon, and have 
 my nice little tea-table, and three or four of my friends, 
 and talk about anything and everything, and even do a 
 little music occasionally. 
 
 January 20, 1880. 
 
 I didn't find my tea quite so pleasant the other day. 
 
 I was sitting in the little salon talking to one or two 
 
 ladies, and receiving their congratulations at being no 
 
 longer of the official world, and obliged to associate with 
 
 the Government people, when the footman appeared with 
 
 his eyes round, to announce that " La Presidente " 
 
 (Madame Grevy) was coming upstairs to pay Madame 
 
 a visit. I flew to the door and the top of the stairs (I 
 
 couldn't get any further) and received " ma Presidente " 
 
 in proper style. I ushered her into the salon where I had 
 
 my friends (mad Royalists both). They were much 
 
 ..ogusted — however they were too well-bred to make
 
 io ITALIAN LETTERS [Jan. 
 
 things disagreeable for me in my own house — and rose 
 when we came in. I named Madame Grevy — and as soon 
 as she had taken her seat, and declined a cup of tea, they 
 went away. Of course they hated getting up for 
 Madame Grevy, but there was nothing else to be done 
 as she and I were both standing. Happily no one else 
 came in but Prince Orloff, Russian Ambassador, who of 
 course knew Madame Grevy and talked easily enough. 
 She didn't stay long — it was the classic " visite de con- 
 doleance " to the wife of the ex-Minister (if she only 
 knew how glad this Ex was to return to private life and 
 her own house, and to be no longer " logee par le gou- 
 vernement). This is the second visit of condoleance I 
 have had. When Marshal MacMahon dismissed (sud- 
 denly) all his cabinet presided by Jules Simon, 16th of 
 May, 1877, Madame de MacMahon came also to see me 
 — and at the same time — 5 o'clock on my reception day — 
 so I knew precisely what the conversation would be — 
 and Madame Grevy and I both said exactly the same 
 things that the Marechale and I had said two or three 
 years ago. I suppose everybody does say the same thing 
 on certain occasions. After she had gone Orloff asked 
 me if I remembered those two ladies meeting (for the 
 first time in their lives) at the Quai d'Orsay on one of 
 my Fridays. Just after the Marshal resigned Madame 
 de MacMahon came to see me. She was announced by 
 all the servants and I had plenty of time to get to the door 
 of the first drawing-room, not quite to the anteroom, to 
 receive her. When her husband was President she was 
 received always like Royalty — at the door of the apart- 
 ment. She was very simple and easy, quite pleased evi- 
 dently at still having all her honours. Prince Orloff came 
 in to pay a visit, and we were having a very pleasant talk, 
 when I heard quick footsteps in the second salon, and
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE n 
 
 again appeared my faithful Gerard (I had also visions 
 of numberless doors being opened all down the enfilade 
 of salons) announcing Madame Grevy. I was embar- 
 rassed for a moment as I didn't like to leave the Mare- 
 chale, and yet I knew I must go and meet Madame Grevy 
 — all the ceremony of course was for the official position, 
 and one Presidente was just the same as the other. 
 Madame de MacMahon was most amiable — said at once 
 — " Je vous en prie, Madame, ne pensez pas a moi " — 
 and " au fond " was rather curious to see her successor. 
 I went as quickly as I could (Orloff giving me a funny 
 little smile, almost a wink, as I passed him) and got my 
 other Presidente just at the door. She was rather as- 
 tounded I think at her reception — she hadn't been long 
 in her exalted position. We proceeded majestically 
 through three or four salons, and when we arrived at 
 my drawing-room Madame de MacMahon got up at 
 once, saying quite simply " Voulez-vous me presenter, 
 Madame, a Madame Grevy?" She was quite at her 
 ease — Madame Grevy rather shy and embarrassed — how- 
 ever Madame de MacMahon talked at once about some 
 of the great charities, artists, etc., and it really wasn't 
 too stiff — Orloff of course always helping and making 
 jokes with the two ladies. One or two visitors came in 
 and gasped when they saw the situation — also one of the 
 young men of the Cabinet, who instantly disappeared. 
 I always thought he went to tell W. what was happen- 
 ing upstairs so that he might come to the rescue in case 
 I wasn't up to the mark . . . but he swears he 
 didn't. When the Marechale got up to go there was 
 again a complication as I wanted to accompany her to 
 the door, and I didn't like to leave Madame Grevy. She 
 wouldn't hear of my going through all the salons — took 
 leave of me at the door — and then Orloff came to the
 
 ia ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 rescue — gave her his arm and took her to her carriage. 
 It was a curious meeting, and, as Orloff said just now, 
 " je lui devais une fameuse chandelle." * 
 
 February 6, 1880. 
 We are starting to-night, straight for Florence, where 
 we shall stay a week or ten days with the Bunsens before 
 going on to Rome. W. is much pleased at the Roman 
 prospect — and I can hardly believe that I am going to 
 see Rome again. We have our lit-salon straight through 
 to Florence, and I hope we shall be warm enough. It is 
 bitterly cold to-day — even walking I was glad to have 
 my sealskin coat. Nounou is rather tearful at being left 
 in sole charge of Francis, but as that young gentleman 
 is perfectly well, in roaring spirits, and will be given 
 everything his heart desires by his Grandmother and 
 Aunts, I don't feel very unhappy about him. It seems 
 incredible that we should be going to meet soon. How 
 we will prowl about Rome. I suppose I shall find it 
 absolutely changed — so many more people — not our dear 
 old dead Rome. 
 
 To H. L. K. f 
 
 Florence, Via Romana, Villa McDonnell, 
 
 February 8, 1880. 
 
 We arrived quite comfortably, dear mother, but almost 
 frozen, particularly W. He has not been extracted from 
 the fire since we got here. Henrietta will have told you of 
 our start. Pontecoulant and one or two men were at 
 the station to see us off — also the Chef de Gare, most 
 civil, and saying we should not be disturbed at the fron- 
 
 * French idiom difficult to translate, meaning "I ought to be very grate- 
 ful to him." 
 
 f Mrs. Charles King, mother of Madame Waddington.
 
 Mrs. Charles King.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 13 
 
 tier — and that our coupe-lit would take us straight 
 through to Florence. We had a perfectly easy journey, 
 and I slept quite peacefully — waking up merely when we 
 passed through the tunnel, as the guard came in to shut 
 all the windows. It was a beautiful, cold, starlight 
 winter night. The great mountains covered with snow 
 looked gigantic as we approached — " sinistres " as Mad- 
 ame Hubert * said. She was much impressed and rather 
 nervous. There were very few people in the train. When 
 we arrived at Modane the Chef de Gare was wait- 
 ing for us — he had been telegraphed from Paris to ex- 
 pect us. We had breakfast in the private room, and a 
 nice woman was waiting for us upstairs in the ladies' 
 room with hot water, towels, etc. I made quite a toilet 
 — she carried off my dress and jacket to brush — and then 
 we went down to a nice little breakfast which tasted very 
 good, as I hadn't had anything since our 7 o'clock dinner. 
 They offered us coffee somewhere — Dijon I think — but 
 I didn't want anything then. All the first part of the 
 road — in fact all the road to Turin was lovely. It was 
 a bright, cold morning, and the snow mountains looked 
 beautiful. It was such a pleasure to hear Italian once 
 more — even the names at the stations " capo stazione " — 
 " grande velocita " — " uscita," etc., also the shrill " par- 
 tenza " when we started. The last time I crossed the 
 Mont Cenis was by the Fell railway when we all started 
 together from Aix. That was certainly very beautiful 
 — but rather terrifying — particularly as we neared the 
 top and looked at the steep places and the various zig- 
 zags we were to follow going down. One couldn't help 
 feeling that if a brake or chain broke there would be a 
 terrible catastrophe. I remember so well some of the 
 women who were quite sea-sick — the swaying motion, I 
 
 * Madame Waddington's maid.
 
 H ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 suppose, as we rounded the curves, of which there were 
 many. I can see one now stretched out on the floor on 
 a rug in the small salle d'attente at Susa, quite exhausted 
 and absolutely indifferent to the outside world. 
 
 We had quite a wait at Turin. Our coupe was de- 
 tached and put on the Florence express. They locked 
 the doors, and we left all our things — books, shawls, 
 bags, etc. — and had a very fair dinner at the buffet. We 
 had so much time that Madame Hubert and I went for 
 a little walk. There was not much to see close to the 
 gare — but it was delightful to me to hear Italian again, 
 and to see the idle, placid crowd standing about — nobody 
 in a hurry apparently, and nobody jostling and pushing 
 through, though there were trains starting or coming in 
 all the time. W. was too cold to move — he really should 
 have had a fur coat — which he utterly despises — says that 
 will do when he is 70, and can't walk any more. It was 
 warm and fairly light in the buffet so he established him- 
 self there with a paper and was quite happy. We got here 
 about 6.30 — Charles de Bunsen was at the station with 
 a carriage — so we came off at once, leaving Madame 
 Hubert and Francesco with the trunks. How she will 
 get on in Italian I don't know, but she is very active and 
 debrouillarde, and generally makes herself understood. 
 Mary * was waiting for us with tea and those crisp little 
 grissini f we always used to have in Casa Guadagni. 
 They have a charming " villino " — part of the McDon- 
 nell villa. One goes in by a small door (in one of the 
 narrow grey streets of old Florence, with high walls on 
 each side — Via Romana) and straight up a fine broad 
 staircase to a good palier with large high rooms opening 
 out on it. All the bedrooms and small salon open on a 
 
 * Madame de Bunsen, n£e Waddington. 
 f Long crisp breads one has in Italy.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 15 
 
 loggia overlooking the garden — a real old Italian garden. 
 I shall never be dressed in time for anything in the morn- 
 ing, as I am always on the loggia. The flowers are all 
 coming out — the birds singing — the sky bright, deep 
 blue — and the whole atmosphere so soft and clear — and 
 in fact Italian — different from everything else. 
 
 Mary has arranged the small salon (which they 
 always sit in) most prettily and comfortably — with 
 bibelots and quantities of books about in all languages 
 — there are usually four going in the establishment — 
 Charles and his daughter speak always German to each 
 other — the rest of us either French or English — it de- 
 pends rather upon what we are talking about — and 
 always an undercurrent of Italian with the servants and 
 " parlatrice " (such a sweet, refined looking girl who 
 comes every day to read and speak Italian with my belle- 
 mere). Mrs. Waddington strikes at the mixture at 
 meals and insists upon one language, either English or 
 French. There is also a charming German girl here, 
 Mile, de Sternberg, a niece of Charles de Bunsen — so we 
 are a most cosmopolitan household. The life is utterly 
 different from the one I have been leading for the last 
 two years. 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 February 10, 1880. 
 I try and write every day, but am so much taken up 
 and so tired when I come in that I don't always find the 
 moment. W. is all right again. He really got quite a 
 chill from the cold night journey — and for two or three 
 days sat in the fire. Francesco, the Italian servant, took 
 excellent care of him — was so sympathetic the night we 
 had some music and W. couldn't appear. It was a pleas-
 
 1 6 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 ant evening — a Russian Prince (I forget his name, and 
 couldn't probably spell it if I remembered), a great friend 
 of Mary's, an excellent musician and a great Wagnerian 
 offered to come and play some of the Nibelungen. I was 
 delighted as I only know Tannhauser and Lohengrin. I 
 remember now your sigh of relief when Seilern and I 
 finished playing a 4 mains the Walpurgis Night years 
 ago in the Champs Elysees. I daresay it was trying for 
 the public — but we enjoyed ourselves immensely. The 
 big drawing-room looked very pretty, with plenty of 
 flowers, and I think there were about 50 people — almost 
 all (except Lottie and Madame de TchiatchefT) ardent 
 admirers of the great man. One lady appeared in a sort 
 of loose, red gown (it seems red is the only colour Wag- 
 ner admits), her hair, very pretty, blonde, hanging down 
 her back, just tied with a ribbon — and carrying two par- 
 titions. Mary said, " Wouldn't you like to sit by her, 
 and she will explain it all to you? " — but I said there was 
 nothing I would like so little. I knew enough of the 
 legend to be able to follow, and moreover I had always 
 heard that Wagner's descriptive music was so wonder- 
 ful that one understood everything without any text, etc. 
 The great man appeared — the grand piano was opened 
 all over to give as much sound as possible — and he re- 
 quested absolute silence. He played beautifully — it was 
 enchanting — one quite heard the little waves in which the 
 Rhein-Tochter were disporting themselves. It was won- 
 derfully melodious and delicate — I should have liked it to 
 go on forever. He played for about three-quarters of 
 an hour — all Rheingold — then suddenly pushed back his 
 chair, and rushed to the anteroom, exclaiming " de l'air 
 — de l'air," followed by all the red and musical ladies. 
 It is a pity there must always be such a pose with Wag- 
 ner — for really the music was a joy. I met of course
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 17 
 
 quantities of old friends, and agreed to go to Lottie Van 
 
 Schaick's ball. 
 
 February 12, 1880. 
 
 W. and I had a lovely long flanerie this morning. He 
 is quite well again, and the sun was tempting. It seems 
 quite a different Florence living over here, and I must 
 say much more old-world and Italian than the Lung- 
 arno, with all the modern hotels and apartments, and 
 evident signs of forestieri * everywhere. As soon as we 
 cross the bridge it is quite different — a gay, bustling, 
 northern city. W. was so much amused the other day 
 — we were in a fiacre and the driver put on the brake to 
 go down the almost imperceptible descent on the other 
 side of the bridge. We went straight across to the 
 Piazza del Duomo to-day, where the market was held, 
 and wandered in and out among the stalls. It was all 
 so familiar — little green cucumbers, almonds, and strings 
 of fried fish, with a good healthy smell of " frittura." 
 The people were all most smiling, and so pleased when I 
 spoke Italian to them, and said I was so happy to be 
 back in their country again. W. has no opinion of my 
 Italian. He came to my room this morning followed by 
 the Italian servant to tell me to tell him that his razor 
 must be sharpened. I began, and came to a dead halt — 
 hadn't the slightest idea what razor was in Italian. W. 
 was much disgusted, but I explained that when I was liv- 
 ing in Italy before as a girl, I hadn't often had occasion 
 to ask for razors — all the same he has evidently lost con- 
 fidence, and thinks my reputation as a linguist " surfaite." 
 
 This afternoon we had a lovely drive up the Fiesole 
 hill with Mary and Beatrice. Their man, who goes on 
 the carriage, is called " Bacco " and is so Italian and 
 sympathetic — takes a lively interest in all our proceed- 
 
 * Foreigners.
 
 1 8 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 ings — knows everybody we meet, and talks cheerfully 
 with any of his friends we happen to cross. The view 
 from Fiesole was divine — the long slopes of Cyprus and 
 olive trees — with Florence at the bottom of the valley, 
 and the Arno just visible — a streak of light. I am so 
 fond of the grey green of the olives. It all looked so 
 soft and delicate in the sunset light. 
 
 February 13, 1880. 
 
 We are getting dreadfully mondain. The other night 
 we had a pretty, typical Florentine party at Edith 
 Peruzzi's.* We went a little after ten and thought we 
 would be among the first, but the rooms were already 
 full — quantities of people (not many of my old friends) 
 and splendid jewels. It was much more real Florentine 
 society than the people we used to see when we lived in 
 Casa Guadagni. They were generally the young, sport- 
 ing, pleasure-loving set, with a good dash of foreigners, 
 artists, diplomatists, etc. These were the real polite, 
 stiff Italians of the old regime. Many people were in- 
 troduced to us, and W. enjoyed his evening immensely 
 — found many interesting people to talk to. He was de- 
 lighted to meet Bentivoglio again, and they immediately 
 retired into a corner, and plunged into Asia Minor and 
 coins. Edith looked very well, did the honours simply 
 and graciously ; and Peruzzi really not changed — always 
 the same tall, handsome, aristocratic type. 
 
 Last night was Lottie Van Schaick's ball, very gay 
 and handsome. Mary wouldn't go — so I chaperoned the 
 two girls — Beatrice and Rosa Sternberg. They made a 
 very pretty contrast — Rosa von Sternberg is fair and 
 slight, a pretty, graceful figure. Beatrice on rather a 
 larger scale, with a very white skin, and beautiful dark 
 
 * N£e Story, daughter of W. W. Story, the sculptor.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 19 
 
 eyes. W. and Charles Bunsen came too, but didn't stay 
 very long. We went late as the Florence balls always 
 last so long. I met quantities of old friends, and made 
 a tour de valse with Carlo Alessandri for the sake of old 
 times. W. was much amused to see all the older men 
 still dancing. At the Paris balls the danseurs are all 
 so young — few of the married men dance — only the very 
 young ones. I didn't wait for the cotillon — it hadn't 
 begun at 3.30. The supper is always before the cotillon 
 which of course prolongs the festivity. 
 
 I was lazy this morning, as we came in so late last 
 night, so W. and I only went for a turn in the Boboli 
 Gardens. The shade was so thick it was almost black — 
 but it was resting to the eyes. There are very few 
 flowers, one had a general impression of green. This 
 afternoon we have been driving about leaving cards, and 
 ending with a turn in the Cascine. There everything 
 seemed exactly the same as when we lived there ten years 
 ago. The same people driving about in the same car- 
 riages, and everybody drawing up on the Piazza, and 
 talking to their neighbours. It amused me to drive down 
 the Lungarno to our bridge. There were quantities of 
 carriages and people lounging on the pavement, and look- 
 ing at the river. The instant one crosses the bridge it 
 is perfectly different — narrow streets, high walls, few 
 carriages, no loiterers. 
 
 Our garden was beautiful to-night — a splendid moon 
 just rising over the black trees, and a soft delicious air. 
 We have had a quiet evening, talking and reading in the 
 small salon. Charles was very interesting, talking about 
 old Italy and their beginnings in Turin. It seems the 
 etiquette of that Court was something awful. Mary told 
 us that she was talking one day to the Marchesa S. (a 
 lively little old lady who took snuff) who had been in 
 
 i
 
 20 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 her time a famous wit and beauty, dame d'honneur to the 
 wife of Carlo Alberto. Mary was rather complaining of 
 the inconvenience of going to the winter reception of the 
 Duchess of Genoa (she had only one in the year) where 
 all the ladies of the Corps Diplomatique were obliged 
 to go in full dress decolletee at about 4 in the afternoon. 
 " Ah, ma chere," said the old Marchesa, " what would 
 you have said in our time? " She told her that when the 
 Queen-Mother was ill in the winter at the Chateau of 
 Stupinigi, some miles from Turin, all her ladies had to 
 go and inquire for her in full dress and manteaux de 
 cour, and that when they knew she was in bed, and could 
 see no one. Mary has splendid Italian lace which she 
 bought from one of the ladies of the old Queen after her 
 death. It would cost a fortune now, and in fact could 
 not be had unless some private individual in reduced cir- 
 cumstances was obliged to sell. I had a nice visit from 
 Alberti to-day — just the same — gay, impossible, saying 
 the most risque things in a perfectly natural way, so that 
 you can hardly realize the enormities you are listening 
 to. They don't sound so bad in Italian — I think the lan- 
 guage veils and poetizes everything. He is very anxious 
 we should go out and spend the day at Signa — his most 
 lovely place — and I wish we could, I should like W. to 
 see it — so much natural beauty — and, with our northern 
 ideas, so absolutely neglected — splendid rooms, painted 
 ceilings — no practical furniture of any kind, and a gar- 
 den that was a dream of wild beauty — flowers every- 
 where, climbing up over the roof, around bits of grey 
 wall, long grass that almost twisted around one's feet, 
 and such a view from the terrace. I told W. afterward 
 of our great day there long ago, when we started at 10 
 in the morning and got back at 2 a.m. I wonder if 
 you remember the day? We were a large party — Van
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 21 
 
 Schaicks, Maquays, Coxes, and others whose names I 
 forget and pretty much every man in Florence (of all 
 nationalities). We started by rail — the women all in 
 light muslin dresses and hats. We were met by car- 
 riages of all kinds — Alberti's own little pony-trap — and 
 a collection of remarkable vehicles from all the neigh- 
 bouring villages. The drive was short, but straight up 
 a steep hill — the villa most beautifully situated at the 
 top, with a background of green hills. Two or three 
 rooms had been arranged for us — so we took off cloaks — 
 a nice, sympathetic Italian woman brushed off the dust — 
 and we went at once to breakfast in the state dining- 
 room — the big doors on the terrace open. Some of the 
 men had their breakfast out there. After breakfast we 
 all wandered about the garden — such thick shade that 
 it was quite comfortable. It was pretty to see the white 
 figures flitting in and out among the trees. About 3 I got 
 into a riding skirt and loose jacket, and went for a ride 
 with Alberti and a Frenchman, Brinquant, a friend of 
 Alberti — very gay, and entrain, and perfectly amused at 
 the entertainment — so sans facon and original. We had 
 a lovely ride — through such narrow roads — branches of 
 the orange trees and roses nearly coming into our faces 
 as we cantered along the little steep paths. I had a pretty 
 little mare — perfectly sure-footed, which was an abso- 
 lute necessity as the hill paths were very steep, with many 
 curves, and full of rolling stones. We pottered about for 
 an hour, and when we got home I thought I would re- 
 tire to one of the rooms and rest for half an hour before 
 I got back into my afternoon dress, but that was a delu- 
 sion. They all came clamouring at the door, and insisted 
 upon my coming out at once, as the whole party were to 
 be photographed. As I was perfectly confident that they 
 would all come in if I didn't come out, there was nothing
 
 ii ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 to be done, and I joined the group. It was rather a long 
 affair, but at the end seemed satisfactory. Then we had 
 tea on the terrace, and sat there watching the sun go 
 down behind the Signa hills, leaving that beautiful after- 
 glow which one only sees in Italy — the green tints par- 
 ticularly. 
 
 Three or four men came out for dinner who hadn't 
 been able to get off early (diplomates, I fancy, for they 
 were certainly the only men in this gay city who had any 
 occupation), also a tapeur * and little objets for the cotil- 
 lon. We did have about an hour before dinner to rest 
 and make ourselves look as nice as we could — but 
 naturally a long, hot day wandering about in a garden, 
 and sitting on half-ruined crumbling stone walls doesn't 
 improve muslin dresses. The dinner was very gay and 
 good, and the hour on the terrace afterward with coffee, 
 enchanting. One or two of the men had brought guitars, 
 and there were scraps of songs, choruses, " stornelli," 
 going on all the time. One man, with a lovely tenor 
 voice, sat on the lower step singing anything — every- 
 thing — the rest of us joining in when we knew the song. 
 The terrace was quite dark — the house brilliantly lighted 
 standing out well ; and every now and then the Italian 
 servants would appear at the door with their smiling 
 faces — black eyes and white teeth — evidently restraining 
 themselves with difficulty from joining in the choruses. 
 I really don't think Mary's " Bacco " could have resisted. 
 I always hear him and Francesco singing merrily over 
 their work in the morning. They certainly are an easy- 
 going, light-hearted race, these modern Florentines. 
 One can hardly believe that they are the descendants of 
 the fierce old Medici who sit up so proud and cold on 
 their marble tombs at San Lorenzo. 
 
 * Man to play on the piano
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 23 
 
 We began the cotillon about 10, and it lasted an hour 
 and a half. There were 10 couples, plenty of flowers and 
 ribbons, and, needless to say, an extraordinary "entrain." 
 We ended, of course, with the " Quadrille infernal " 
 (which Alberti always leads with the greatest spirit), 
 made a long chain all through the house down the ter- 
 race steps (such a scramble) and finally dispersed in the 
 garden. I shouldn't like to say what the light dresses 
 looked like after that. We started back to Florence 
 about midnight in two coaches — such a beautiful drive. 
 The coming out of the gates, and down the steep hill with 
 a bad road and a narrow turn was rather nervous work 
 — but we finally emerged on the broad high-road looking 
 like a long silver ribbon in the moonlight winding down 
 the valley. We had the road quite to ourselves — it was 
 too late for revellers, and too early for market people, 
 so we could go a good pace, and galloped up and down 
 the hills, some of them decidedly steep. It was a splen- 
 did night — that warm southern moon (so unlike our cold 
 white moonlight) throwing out every line sharply. It was 
 just 3 o'clock when we drew up at Casa Guadagni. 
 
 I didn't intend to write so much about Signa, but I 
 had just been telling it all to W., and I think it will 
 amuse the family in America. 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 Villa McDonnell, 
 February 15, 1880. 
 I try and write every day, but it is not easy. We are 
 out all the time. The weather is divine, and it seems 
 wicked to stay indoors. W. and I go out every morning, 
 and we do a good deal of sight-seeing in a pleasant, idle 
 way. I go sometimes to the Boboli Gardens and wait 
 for him there when he has letters to write. It is all so
 
 a 4 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 unlike our Florence of ten years ago; I love the quiet 
 grey streets. The gardens are delicious; dark and cool; 
 you see no one, hear nothing but the splash of the foun- 
 tains, and the modern busy world doesn't exist. I am 
 becoming quite intimate with the custode — he is most 
 friendly — smiles all over when W. appears — and re- 
 marked the other day casually when he was late and I 
 was waiting at the gate, " II marito si fa aspettare." 
 This morning we pottered about the Ponte Vecchio, 
 where all the shops look exactly the same, and apparently 
 the same old wrinkled men bending over their pearls and 
 turquoises. So many foreigners have bought pearls that 
 the prices have all gone up. There has been a great in- 
 flux of strangers these last days as Easter is early, and 
 we hear English on all sides. Two pretty fair-haired 
 English girls were loitering about the bridge and shops, 
 attracting much attention and admiration, quite freely 
 expressed, from some of the numerous young men who 
 are always lounging about ; but the admiration is so genu- 
 ine and so open that no one could be angry or consider 
 it an impertinence. 
 
 Do you remember one of my first Italian experiences 
 in crossing the Piazza di Spagna one afternoon with my 
 white kitten on my shoulder, and one of the group of 
 "paini"* standing at the door of the bank remarked 
 smilingly, " Che gatto fortunato ! " I was rather taken 
 aback but pleased certainly. At Doney's in the Via 
 Tuornabuoni, there is always the same group of men on 
 the pavement about tea-time, when every one goes in for 
 a cup of tea or chocolate — all much interested in the 
 pretty girls who go in and out — also the society men 
 standing at the door of the Club making remarks and 
 criticising, with rather more reserve perhaps. 
 
 * Young bourgeois.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 25 
 
 We took a fiacre when we had crossed the bridge and 
 drove to Santa Maria Novella. The black and white 
 facade looked like an old friend, also the spezeria where 
 we used to buy the sachets of iris powder in the old days. 
 We wandered all over the church, looked at the frescoes 
 and the wonderful Cimabue Madonna, and then through 
 the cloisters. A monk (one of the few left) in the long 
 white robe of the Dominicans was working in the garden. 
 He looked very picturesque in the little square of green, 
 and was apparently engrossed in his work as he didn't 
 even turn his head to look at us. He wasn't at all an old 
 man as we saw when he raised himself — was tall and 
 broad-shouldered. What a life it must be for a man in 
 the full force of strength and health. One can under- 
 stand it in the old days before books and printing, when 
 the Dominicans and Benedictines were students and their 
 parchments made history, but now when everybody reads 
 and discusses everything it seems incredible that a man 
 should condemn himself to such an existence. 
 
 We dined at the TchiatchefTs, and on our way home 
 crossed a procession of " la Misericordia " ; all the men 
 with long cloaks and cowls drawn tight over their faces, 
 with slits for the eyes. One could see nothing but 
 bright, keen eyes, impossible to recognise any one. I be- 
 lieve men of all classes belong to the society, and we 
 had probably various friends among them. I suppose they 
 were going to get a corpse (which is always done at night 
 in Florence, or, in fact, everywhere in Italy) and their 
 low, melancholy chant rather haunted me. They say they 
 do a great deal of good when there is an accident or 
 a case of malignant fever, in transporting the patient to 
 a hospital; but it was an uncanny sight. They tell me 
 they went to get a young Englishman the other day who 
 had fever, and was to be moved from the hotel to a private
 
 16 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 hospital. It was the doctor's suggestion, and I am sure 
 they carried him quite well and gently, but it seems his 
 poor wife went nearly mad when the procession arrived, 
 and she saw all those black eyes gleaming from behind 
 the cowls. 
 
 We have been this afternoon to tea at " Camerata," the 
 Halls' Villa. The drive out was charming, the day beau- 
 tiful and bright, flowers everywhere. Quantities of 
 peasant children ran alongside the carriage as we toiled 
 up the hills, chattering volubly (many Inglesi thrown 
 in) and holding out little brown hands filled with yellow 
 flowers. The Camerata garden and terrace were lovely. 
 It was still a little cool to sit out, so we had tea inside. 
 The lawn was blue with violets, and there were quanti- 
 ties of yellow flowers, crocuses, narcissi everywhere, 
 roses just beginning. We met various old friends there 
 — principally English — among others Miss Arbuthnot, 
 looking quite the same; and the two Misses Forbes who 
 have a charming apartment in Florence — we went there 
 to tea the other day. Our friend and compatriot, Mrs. 
 K., was also there; very dressy and very foolish; poor 
 dear she never was wise. She was glad to see me, was 
 sure I was enjoying the change and rest after my " full 
 life "; then " Did you live in Paris? " I felt like saying, 
 " No, French Cabinet Ministers usually live in Yoko- 
 hama," but I desisted from that plaisanterie as I was sure 
 she would go away under the impression that W. had 
 been a member of the Japanese Cabinet. W. doesn't like 
 my jokes — thinks they are frivolous. 
 
 February 17, 1880. 
 Our Talleyrand dinner last night was handsome and 
 pleasant. He wa« for years French Ambassador at 
 Petersburg (Baron Charles de Talleyrand-Perigord),
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 27 
 
 and is the type of the clever, old-fashioned French gentle- 
 man and diplomatist. He married a Russian, Mile. 
 Bernadaky. She is very amiable, has a beautiful voice 
 and beautiful jewels. I had Carlo Alessandri next to me, 
 and we plunged into old times. After dinner Talley- 
 rand and W. talked politics in the fumoir. He is of 
 course quite " d'un autre bord " and thinks Republican 
 France " grotesque," but W. said he was so moderate 
 and sensible, not at all narrow-minded, understanding 
 that a different opinion was quite possible, that it was 
 interesting to discuss with him. Talleyrand confided to 
 Mary afterward that he couldn't understand a man of 
 her brother's intelligence and education being a Repub- 
 lican. 
 
 Madame de Talleyrand didn't sing, had a cold. I was 
 very sorry as I told her I should have liked to hear her 
 sing again " Divinite du Styx." It will be always asso- 
 ciated in my mind with the French-German war when 
 we were all at Ouchy together hearing fresh disasters 
 every day. 
 
 This afternoon we went to have tea with "Ouida"* 
 at her villa outside Florence. She was most anxious W. 
 should come to her — which he agreed to do — though 
 afternoon visits are not much in his line. As we were 
 rather a large party we went out in detachments, and 
 Madame de Tchiatcheff drove me. We arrived before 
 the Bunsens and W. Ouida came to the gate to meet 
 us, and Madame Tchiatcheff named me. She was civil, 
 but before I had time to say that M. Waddington was 
 coming in another carriage, she looked past me, saying, 
 " Et Monsieur Waddington — il ne vient done pas," with 
 such evident disappointment and utter indifference to the 
 presence of Madame Waddington that I was rather taken 
 
 * Mile, de la Ram£e.
 
 28 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 aback; but I suppose geniuses must not be judged like 
 other people. I was rather disappointed in her appear- 
 ance. I expected to see her dressed either in " primrose 
 satin with trails of white lace," or as an Italian peasant, 
 and she really looked like any one else — her hair cut short 
 and a most intelligent face. She was interesting when she 
 talked about Italy and the absolute poverty of the peo- 
 ple. She spoke either French or English, both equally 
 well. When the visit had been talked of at home we had 
 told W. he must read, or at any rate look over one of 
 her books. I didn't think he could undertake one of her 
 long novels, " Idalia " for instance, where the heroine 
 wanders for days through wood and dale attired in a 
 white satin dress, and arrives at her destination looking 
 like " a tall, beautiful, pure lily " ; but I think he might 
 like one of her short Italian stories, which are charm- 
 ing, such beautiful descriptions. I always remember one 
 of her sentences, " There is nothing in the world so beau- 
 tiful as the smile of Italy to the awakening Spring." 
 One felt that to-day in the garden, every bud was burst- 
 ing, everything looked green and fresh and young. 
 
 Our dinner at home to-night was most agreeable. We 
 had Mile, de Weling, a great friend of the Bunsens, 
 a clever, interesting woman whose girlhood was passed 
 at the old Nassau castle at Bieberich on the Rhine. Her 
 mother was one of the Duchess's ladies. I know the 
 place well, and used often to walk through the beautiful 
 park to the Rhine when I was staying with Mary. It is 
 quite shut up and deserted now. The old Duke held 
 out against United Imperial Germany, and never lived in 
 his Schloss after Nassau was annexed. It is a grand old 
 house with all its great windows and balconies facing 
 the Rhine. One could quite imagine an animated court 
 life (small court) there, with music, and riding, and ex-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 29 
 
 cursions on the river. It is rather melancholy to see 
 such a fine old place deserted. 
 
 We had, too, Comandi, an Italian who occupies himself 
 with orphan boys, and has a home for them near here 
 somewhere in the country which we are going to see some 
 day. Anna de Weling, too, has founded one or two small 
 homes in different parts of Germany. She read us a 
 letter the other day from one of her boys, quite grown 
 up now, whom she had placed. It began " Wir brauchen 
 Beinkleider " (we need trousers) — so naif. The conver- 
 sation was almost entirely in Italian as Comandi speaks 
 no other language. All the Bunsens speak of course 
 perfectly — they lived in Italy for so many years at the 
 beginning of their diplomatic career. Mrs. Wadding- 
 ton is quite wonderful, speaks and reads it perfectly. 
 Her nice little parlatrice is devoted to her. 
 
 February 19, 1880. 
 We have had two nice days. Yesterday we walked 
 straight across the bridge to the Piazza del Duomo — 
 walked about the Cathedral and the Baptistery trying to 
 make out the Saints' processions, and figures on the mar- 
 vellous bronze doors — but it would take weeks of study 
 to understand them. I was tired, and sat (very uncom- 
 fortably) on a sort of pointed stone near the gates while 
 W. examined them. I really think I like the Piazza and 
 the open air and the street life as much as anything else. 
 There was so much movement, flower stalls, fruit, cakes, 
 those extraordinary little straw bottles of wine, children 
 playing and tumbling all over the place (evidently com- 
 pulsory education doesn't bother them much), and always 
 quantities of men standing about doing nothing, wrapped 
 up in their long cloaks, but what a wonderful cadre for 
 it all. The Duomo, Palazzo Vecchio, Loggia, etc. — one
 
 3 o ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 can't imagine now the horrors that have been perpetrated 
 in that very square. I told the family the other day I 
 wanted to read " Nicolo dei Lapi " over again, and they 
 all jeered at me; but I must get it somewhere; it will 
 take me straight back to Frascati and the long hot days 
 of the cholera summer when I was reading it, and trying 
 so hard with my imperfect and school-girl translation to 
 make you understand the beauty and horrors of the book. 
 I was telling Mrs. Waddington the other day of our 
 life at Frascati — the great cholera year at Albano 
 (1869), when so many people died — the Dowager Queen 
 of Naples, Princess Colonna, and Cardinal Altieri, who 
 came straight out to his villa as soon as the cholera broke 
 out (which it did quite suddenly). He was wonderful 
 — went about everywhere in all the poor little houses, 
 relieving and encouraging the sick and dying, holding up 
 the cross to the poor dim eyes when life was too nearly 
 gone for any words to avail ; and finally was struck down 
 himself and died in two days. How terribly lonely and 
 cut off we felt — Dr. Valery was the only person we saw. 
 He was allowed to come out every day from Rome, but 
 was fumigated at the station at Frascati, and again in 
 Rome when he got back, obliged to change his clothes 
 outside the gate before coming into the city. We were 
 never at all nervous about the cholera. I don't think 
 there was one case at Frascati, and of course all our 
 thoughts were centred in that great big room with its 
 pink walls and mosaic floor where father* lay desperately 
 ill. It seems like a dream now, those hot summer nights, 
 when we used to go out on the terrace (upon which his 
 room opened) to get bouillon, ice, etc., and we fancied 
 we could see the cloud of disease hovering over the Cam- 
 
 * Charles King, President of Columbia College, father of Madame 
 Waddington.
 
 President Charles King of Columbia College, New York City.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 31 
 
 pagna. When it was moonlight, and such moonlight, 
 that beautiful golden, southern moon, we saw a long 
 white line in the distance — the sea. Circulation was very 
 difficult, all the roads leading to Albano were barred, and 
 guarded by zouaves ; and of course we heard tales of hor- 
 ror from the Italian servants, always most talkative and 
 graphic in their descriptions. However on the whole 
 they behaved well. We used to ride every day, and 
 always passed a little chapel on the way to Castel Gan- 
 dolfo, which was filled with people kneeling and praying 
 — a long line stretching out quite across the road to a 
 little shrine just opposite. They used to make way for 
 us to pass without getting off their knees, only stretching 
 out their hands for anything the Principesse americane 
 would give them. 
 
 Some of the women were quite absorbed, looking hard 
 at the Madonna in her shrine as if they expected some 
 visible sign of pity, or promise of help. I rather envied 
 them their simple faith ; it must help them through many 
 moments of trial and discouragement. 
 
 As usual I seem to have wandered from my original 
 subject, but Italy is so full of memories. We were too 
 tired to walk home, besides were a little late, so we took 
 a fiacre with a most friendly coachman, who saw at once 
 that we were strangers, pointed out all the places of in- 
 terest, and said it would be a delightful afternoon for 
 Fiesole, and he would come and get us if we would name 
 the hour. 
 
 We found lots of letters and papers at the house, and 
 W. plunged into Paris and politics after breakfast. I 
 went for a drive with Mary and Beatrice to the Villa 
 Careggi. The house is nothing remarkable — a large 
 square building with enormous rooms, deep fireplaces, 
 and very high ceilings. Some good frescoes on the walls.
 
 32 ITALIAN LETTERS [fee. 
 
 The garden and terraces were enchanting — the sun really 
 too warm on the terrace — always a divine view; blue- 
 purple hills rolling away in the distance, and funny, 
 crooked little roads shut in between high walls, with 
 every now and then a gap, or a gate, which gave one 
 glimpses of straggling, unkempt gardens, with a wealth 
 of flowers and vines. 
 
 We had a quiet dinner and evening, which we all en- 
 joyed. W. smoked and talked a great deal of the past 
 year and the last days at the Quai d'Orsay. He doesn't 
 miss the life in the least, which rather surprises me; I 
 thought he would be so bored with suddenly nothing to 
 do, and no part to play in the world's history ; but I see 
 that the absolute rest and being with all his family is 
 doing him so much good. It is extraordinary how soon 
 one forgets, and takes up a quiet life again. Already 
 the whirl and fatigues of the Exhibition year seem so 
 far away I feel as if somebody else had lived that life. 
 I cannot imagine myself now dining out (and not ordi- 
 nary dinners, official banquets) 19 nights in succession, 
 but I suppose I should begin again quite naturally if we 
 returned to public life. 
 
 Did you see the article in the " Francais " saying 
 " M. Waddington will now have all the rest of his life 
 before him to consecrate to his studies"? I wonder! 
 This morning we had our usual walk — as W. was ready 
 at ten o'clock I didn't make my regular station in the 
 Boboli Gardens. We went to Vieusseux about a book 
 W. wanted, and then into the bank to pay George Maquay 
 a visit. He was most cheerful, and showed us a nice 
 article in the " Times " regretting very much W.'s de- 
 parture from the Foreign Office, " one of the few men 
 who could look ahead a little, and who was independent, 
 not limited in his views by what the Chamber of Depu-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 33 
 
 ties would think." I was rather pleased, but W. is very 
 calm about all newspaper articles. He always has a 
 " mauvaise presse " as we don't soigner any paper. I 
 fancy, though, Henrietta is right when she says the next 
 time he takes office she means to buy one — so many peo- 
 ple believe implicitly all they see in a paper, especially 
 when it says what you want to believe. 
 
 We did a little shopping, I wanted some veils, and W. 
 remained outside looking at the grim old Strozzi Palace, 
 standing like a great fortress with its huge stones and 
 heavy doors in the middle of all the busy, bustling life 
 of the Tornabuoni. I think it is the one street in Flor- 
 ence where people move about quickly, and as if they 
 were going somewhere. Everywhere else there are 
 crowds of people, men especially, doing nothing but sit- 
 ting all day in the sun looking at the passers-by. 
 
 We hadn't time to walk over to San Lorenzo, so hailed 
 a fiacre, and wandered about there for some time. I was 
 delighted to see the Medici Chapel again and the famous 
 monument of Lorenzo. He does look as if he were think- 
 ing out some great problem — I wonder what he would 
 think of our go-ahead, unartistic world, and of our poli- 
 ticians, so timorous and afraid of responsibility — at least 
 the men of that race were strong for good or for evil. 
 When they wanted anything they did all they could to 
 get it. I don't know that the women were behindhand 
 either in energy when one thinks of Queen Catherine and 
 of all the Huguenots she disposed of one summer evening 
 in Paris. Do you remember our friend Mrs. A., a con- 
 verted Catholic, whom we overheard one night at the 
 Opera when they were shooting all the Huguenots in the 
 last act, telling her daughter (remained a Protestant) 
 that the Saint Bartholomew had nothing to do with 
 Catholics and Protestants ; was entirely a political move.
 
 34 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 We have had a long drive this afternoon with Mary 
 and Charles, up the Poggio Imperiale — a stiff climb but 
 such a beautiful road — villas, cypresses, olive trees, and 
 roses everywhere. We went up to the Certosa, where 
 a nice old monk, in his white dress, showed us the church 
 and monastery. It was dark and rather cold in the 
 church, and nothing particular to see — good frescoes and 
 many coloured marbles — but the terrace outside was de- 
 lightful. There were not too many beggars on the road 
 considering that it is the favourite drive in Florence, and 
 of course the carriage people are at a disadvantage as 
 they must go slowly up the hill, and are escorted by a 
 long troop of children singing, dancing with a sort of 
 tambourine, turning somersaults, and enjoying life gen- 
 erally, whether they get a few pennies or not. It is very 
 difficult to resist the children with their smiling faces and 
 evident desire to amuse the " forestieri." 
 
 We went to Casa Guadagni before we came home, and 
 paid a visit to the Marchesa, who was at home. The 
 same old porter was at the door, and greeted me most 
 warmly, much pleased to see W. " bel uomo, il marito " — 
 had I any children, and where were all the rest of the 
 family? — that simple, natural Italian manner, without a 
 thought of familiarity. W. was delighted with Madame 
 Guadagni. She talked about everything and really didn't 
 look any older. I asked about our old apartment (piano 
 nobile — first floor) ; she said it was always let — generally 
 to foreigners. I didn't ask if she had made any modern 
 improvements since we lived there. Shall you ever for- 
 get that cold winter with the doors that wouldn't open, 
 and the windows that wouldn't shut, and the chimneys 
 that always smoked, and the calorifere, which John 
 never would light, as he was afraid it would warm the 
 Guadagni rooms below? I should have liked to go
 
 OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 3$ 
 
 over the apartment and see the rooms again — the big 
 ball-room where we danced so often and had so much 
 music. We wound up with a turn in the Cascine, draw- 
 ing up in the Piazza alongside of Lottie's carriage, which 
 was of course surrounded by all the gilded youth of Flor- 
 ence. Maquay came to talk to us, Carlo Alessandri 
 and Serristori, whom I hadn't yet seen. He was just 
 the same (laughing and criticising) as in the old days 
 when some of the swells appeared in so-called Worth gar- 
 ments, which he said were all made in a little room over 
 his stables, by the wife and daughters of one of his men. 
 I was glad to get in and have a quiet hour to write 
 before dinner. I am at my table close up to the open 
 window. The air is soft and delicious — the garden 
 just beginning to look dark and mysterious in the wan- 
 ing light. The group of cypresses (I don't know how 
 to write that in the plural, it looks funny) always black. 
 I was called off various times, and must finish now as we 
 are going to dine at the Maquays — we being ourselves, 
 Mary, and Charles. We generally go about a family 
 party. 
 
 Sunday, February 21, 1880. 
 We are making our pacquets as we have decided to 
 leave for Rome on Monday (22). The Schuylers are 
 clamouring for us, and though I hate to leave here I really 
 think we ought to go. As W. has never seen Rome 
 two months will not be too much. We shan't have much 
 more as he wants to get home for the Conseil General. 
 The Schuylers want to have a big reception for us, and 
 would like next Sunday week, so I think w T e really shall 
 get off this time. The longer we stay the more invita- 
 tions we have. It has been all quite charming. Our 
 Maquay dinner was very easy and pleasant; the Tchiat-
 
 3 6 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 cheffs, Lottie, Alessandri, Talleyrands, Mrs. Fuller, and 
 one or two stray men. The house looked so natural — 
 of course the ball-room wasn't open as we were a small 
 party, but they lighted it after dinner. I wanted W. to 
 see how pretty it was and how light — white with red 
 seats all around. How it took me back to old times? 
 I seemed to see everybody settling for the cotillon — the 
 stairs too, where we all used to sit waiting for the cotillon 
 to begin. How we amused ourselves that winter in Flor- 
 ence, and how scattered all that little band is now. The 
 Florentines amuse themselves still — there must be some- 
 thing in the air which makes people light-hearted — one 
 can't imagine a serious, studious life in Florence. 
 
 We spent two hours in the Uffizi yesterday looking at 
 all the old friends again. I was delighted to see the dear 
 little " St. John in the Wilderness " hanging just where 
 it did before, on one side of the door in the Tribuna; 
 also the Peruginos — I like them so much — his Madonnas 
 with their wooden faces, but a pure, unearthly expression 
 all the same, and the curious green colour one sees in 
 all his pictures. We saw as much as we could in the two 
 hours, but as it was the second visit we found our way 
 about better. I never rested until I found the corridor 
 with Niobe and all her children — it used to fascinate me 
 in the old days. One realized perfectly all those big 
 sons and daughters, so terrified, and the last little one 
 clinging to his mother's skirts. 
 
 We went to tea, Mary and I, with Edith Peruzzi — 
 quite quietly — as she wanted to show me her children — 
 and fine specimens they are; a duck of a boy, quite 
 sociable and smiling. Nina and Louisa Maquay came in 
 — Louisa looked lovely. This morning I went to the 
 English church with Mary and Beatrice. We didn't go 
 out again till late — after tea — as we had various visitors,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 37 
 
 among others Schuyler Crosby, who had asked us to dine 
 but we had no evening left. I saw him riding the other 
 day in the Cascine, and recognised him some way off by 
 his seat. I don't know what it is, but whatever the 
 Americans do, whether riding, dancing, or tennis, they 
 do it differently from any one else. I was talking about 
 it the other day to an Englishman who had seen some of 
 the Anglo-American boat races, and he quite agreed with 
 me, said their rowing was very good, but quite another 
 thing from the English sport. 
 
 We drove out again Fiesole way. It was enchanting 
 — more roses come out every day. There was a perfect 
 fringe of pink roses hanging over some of the old grey 
 walls. As it was Sunday, and a lovely day, there were 
 quantities of people about. There are scarcely any cos- 
 tumes left, but all Italians like bright colours, and the 
 red and green fichus and aprons looked pretty and gay as 
 the various groups passed us. Some of the old women 
 were terribly bent, with such brown, wrinkled faces — 
 one could quite see that they had toiled up and down hills 
 under the Italian scorching sun all their lives, with bas- 
 kets and bundles of fagots on their backs — but the old 
 eyes were keen and smiling. They don't look so utterly 
 starved and wretched as Ouida (and others) say they 
 are. I suppose they live on nothing, and go on quite 
 simply, leading the same lives that their fathers and 
 mothers did before them, without knowing of anything 
 better. 
 
 Tell Henrietta I haven't made much progress in the 
 travelling work she presented me with. I did take it out 
 into the drawing-room one evening, but the immediate 
 result of that was disastrous. I took it out of the bag 
 proudly, to show that I had silk, embroidery, scissors, 
 needles, etc., like everybody else, but left it on the table.
 
 3 8 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 Somebody wanted a book or a newspaper also on the 
 table; turned everything upside down, and the work, silk, 
 needles, thimble, etc., went rolling all over the floor. 
 When you think of the crevasses of an old parquet floor 
 in an Italian Palace, you can imagine how difficult it was 
 to find anything again. The two girls were hours on 
 their knees looking for my thimble which never turned 
 up — however, that will be an excellent reason for buying 
 a pretty little gold thimble with a row of turquoises that 
 I saw the other day in a shop on the Ponte Vecchio. 
 There is evidently a fate against my becoming an ac- 
 complished needlewoman, and I am afraid the " clumsy 
 little fingers," which used to worry you so in the old days 
 of music lessons, have not improved with advancing 
 years. Perhaps I shall take to work in my old age. Isn't 
 it George Sand who says (and I don't believe she ever 
 took a needle in her hand), " Don't despise our less ambi- 
 tious sisters who work. Many great resolutions and si- 
 lent abnegations have been woven into the bright flowers 
 and delicate tracings of the embroidery in the long hours 
 spent over the frame." 
 
 Monday Night, February 22, 1880. 
 We really are starting to-morrow morning — trunks are 
 packed, compartment engaged, and we have said good- 
 bye to everybody. I made a last little turn this morning 
 in the Boboli Gardens. I didn't see the custode — I 
 wanted to say good-bye to him. Then we went to the 
 Pitti gallery, W. wanted to see one particular Botticelli, 
 " la bella Simonetta " I think, which he and Mary had 
 been talking about, and which we had missed the other 
 day. It is quite impossible to see everything. I had re- 
 membered pretty well the principal pictures. Then we 
 took a fiacre and went out to San Marco to see the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 39 
 
 Fra Angelicos and Savonarola's cell. We had never 
 once got there, there is always so much to do. We 
 walked through the cloisters first — the frescoes are per- 
 fectly well preserved — some of Fra Angelico's and others 
 less interesting. I wanted to see the cells, and was 
 quite pleased to recognise the " Coronation of the Vir- 
 gin " and the " Madonna and Child " surrounded by 
 angels, all in their long green-blue robes with wings and 
 musical instruments of all kinds. As usual people were 
 copying them, and I will try and find a pretty one and 
 bring it back. I want the one in a sort of light green 
 dress blowing a trumpet. The faces are quite beautiful, 
 so pure. He must have had a wonderful imagination — 
 I wonder if he believed angels look like that? Somehow 
 or other I always think of an angel in a white robe. We 
 saw of course Savonarola's cell, and they showed us his 
 rosary, and a piece of wood which is supposed to have 
 been taken from his funeral pile. It all looked so peace- 
 ful and smiling to-day, one could hardly realize the long 
 hours of doubt and self-torture passed in these solitary 
 cells. There is a fine description in one of the numerous 
 books the Bunsens have on Florence, of Savonarola's 
 preaching — all the people congregated in the great 
 square before the church, when there was no longer any 
 room inside, leaving their shops and their work to come 
 and listen to him. That is one of the delightful things 
 in this household, you can always find a book in almost 
 any language about any subject that interests you, relig- 
 ion, music, politics, everything. 
 
 Beatrice has a delightful German magazine, " Monat- 
 sheft," very well illustrated, with all the modern German 
 literature, stories, essays, criticisms, etc. One could al- 
 most wish for a rainy day or a quiet evening to read a 
 little.
 
 4 o ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 W. went off by himself the other night and had a very 
 pleasant evening. First to the Piccolellis' where he found 
 a small party and his old friend Bentivoglio, with whom 
 he had travelled in the East. Of course they instantly 
 got into a corner and talked shop (medals). Then to 
 Lottie Van Schaick who had a few friends, where he 
 amused himself very much. 
 
 Gertrude writes that our rooms are very nice, and the 
 man at the hotel delighted to have us. I wonder what 
 Rome will be like. It will seem funny to be back there 
 again, a respectable middle-aged lady. I think one should 
 always be young and gay to live in Italy. 
 
 We had a fine musical evening Saturday with the 
 Landi family — five; mother, father, daughter, son, and 
 grandfather. Madame Landi sang anything, everything, 
 delightfully. Some of the stornelli and peasant songs, 
 those particularly of the Abruzzi mountains, were charm- 
 ing. I wonder what Italians have got in their " gosier " 
 that we haven't, that gives such a charm to their simplest 
 song. I sang once or twice in French, and then Madame 
 Landi and I did some duos in Italian which went very 
 well. She was very complimentary over my Italian (I 
 told it triumphantly to W., but he remains under the im- 
 pression of the razor), said it was evident I had learnt 
 in Rome; the language is so much softer, or rather the 
 pronunciation " Lingua toscana in bocca romana." 
 
 The old father was killing, knew everything, was 
 wildly interested, and criticised freely. I think the 
 daughter will have a very pretty voice, like her mother's, 
 a rich, low mezzo. 
 
 I was called off by some visits, and will finish now. 
 My letter will go to-morrow morning. We don't start 
 very early — 9.30 — but I shall not have time to write any- 
 thing more.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 41 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 Hotel de Londres, Rome, 
 February 24, 1880. 
 
 We arrived last evening for dinner, dear mother, and 
 are most comfortably settled. We have a nice apart- 
 ment on the second floor — a large bright salon with a 
 good bed-room on either side of it for me and W., and a 
 very fair anteroom where Madame Hubert has just had 
 another wardrobe put up. She interviewed the gerant 
 and made it clear to him that it was impossible for her 
 to unpack her mistress's dresses until she had something 
 suitable to put them in. We found flowers and papers 
 on the table from the Schuylers, Mrs. Bruce, and the 
 proprietor of the hotel. 
 
 I thought we should never get away from Florence. 
 We were so happy there with the Bunsens and Mrs. Wad- 
 dington, and every day there was something to see or do. 
 The weather was divine the last days — the hills were 
 quite a pink-purple sometimes as we drove home after 
 sunset, and quantities of roses climbing up all the old 
 grey walls. We had a very easy journey — they had 
 reserved a carriage for us, which was a good precaution, 
 as the train was crowded. We got to Rome about six. 
 W. was quite excited as we approached (it is too funny 
 to think that he had never been here), and very anxious 
 for the first glimpse of St. Peter's. I can't say we saw 
 the dome from a great distance — I fancy it depends upon 
 which way you enter Rome. We found the Schuylers at 
 the station with a carriage, and drove at once to the ho- 
 tel, where Gert had ordered tea and a panJettone. If 
 I hadn't known I was coming to Rome I should never 
 have believed it on arriving at the station. It was so
 
 42 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 unlike the little old Termine of our Roman days — 
 the funny little station so far away, with few porters or 
 cabs, and comparatively few voyageurs. I was quite be- 
 wildered with the rush into this great, modern station, 
 with porters and officials of all kinds, and all the bustle 
 of a great city. 
 
 I looked in vain for some familiar landmarks as we 
 came along. Nothing. The new streets, Via Garibaldi 
 and Nazionale — an abomination, tall ugly maisons de lo- 
 cation and official buildings so new and regular — awful! 
 It wasn't until we got into the town and near the Piazza 
 di Spagna that I really felt that I was back in Rome ; that 
 of course was unchanged. It brought back such a flood 
 of memories as we passed 20, and all the first happy days 
 in Rome came back to me, before father's illness, when 
 he enjoyed everything so much, and wrote to Uncle John 
 that " the hours were golden." The " barca " looked 
 just the same, with boys and women leaning up against 
 the stones, flower-girls on the Spanish Steps, and even 
 old Nazzari's low, dark shop opposite looked picturesque. 
 W. was quite surprised to se« me so sentimental, though 
 I had warned him that for me there was no place in the 
 world like Rome. 
 
 The Schuylers stayed talking some little while, then 
 had to go, as they were dining out, but promised to come 
 in after dinner. J(¥. asked me if I was too tired to go 
 for a little stroll (the tea had refreshed us), so we started 
 up the Spanish Steps to the Villa Medici, where we 
 had that beautiful view of Rome. I showed him the 
 stone pines of the Doria-Pamphili, which stood out splen- 
 didly against the last bright clouds of the sunset — it was 
 quite lovely. We stayed out quite late, and were re- 
 ceived with respectful, but decidedly disapproving greet- 
 ings from the gerant when we came in. It was not at
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 43 
 
 all prudent for " Eccellenza " and Madame to remain out 
 late, particularly as they must be very tired after a long 
 journey. We dined downstairs in the big dining-room. 
 There was a long table d'hote full — people about half 
 through their dinner — and at the extreme end of the room 
 five or six small tables, one of which had been reserved 
 for us. I didn't see any one I knew, but two men got 
 up and bowed as we passed. The dinner was good — 
 the head waiter hovering about us all the time, and of 
 course always addressing W. as " Eccellenza." We had 
 coffee upstairs. W. smoked and I read the paper and 
 one or two notes. About ten the Schuylers appeared, 
 very cheerful and full of propositions of all kinds. They 
 have got a big reception for us on Sunday night — Roman 
 and diplomatic — and we agreed to breakfast with them 
 to-day. Gert looked very well in blue, with her diamond 
 necklace and feathers. They don't seem very pleased 
 with Marsh — our Minister. Always the same old story 
 and jealousy — the ministers consider themselves so far 
 above a consul. But really when the Consul-General 
 happens to be Schuyler and his wife King, one would 
 think these two names would speak for themselves — for 
 Americans, at any rate. 
 
 We told Schuyler how many compliments we had had 
 both in Paris and Florence for his " Peter the Great " — 
 so much in it, and yet the subject one that had been 
 written about so often. They went off about eleven, and 
 I was glad to go to bed ; could hardly believe I was sleep- 
 ing again in the Piazza di Spagna. I certainly never 
 imagined when I left Rome tearfully so many years ago 
 that I would come back as the wife of a French statesman. 
 
 I was busy all the morning unpacking and settling my- 
 self, and of course looking out of the window. It is all 
 so delightfully familiar — all the botte standing in the
 
 44 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 middle of the street, and the coachman trying so hard to 
 understand when some English or American tourists give 
 them some impossible address in Italian — you know the 
 kind of people I mean, conscientious tourists who think 
 they must always speak the language of the country they 
 are in, learned out of a phrase-book. We have various 
 invitations, from our two Embassies, Quirinal and Vat- 
 ican, also the Teanos, and W. had a nice visit from 
 Lanciani, who wants to show him all Rome. We took a 
 botta to go to the Schuylers. It isn't far, but I wasn't 
 quite sure of finding my way the first time. They have 
 a charming apartment in Palazzo Altemps, near the 
 Piazza Navona, not at all far really from our hotel, and 
 now that I know the way I can often walk over in the 
 mornings when W. is off sight-seeing seriously with some 
 of his learned friends. It is a fine old palace with a large 
 open court and broad stone staircase. San Carlo Bor- 
 romeo is supposed to have lived there. Their apartment 
 belongs to Mrs. Terry, wife of the artist, who had ar- 
 ranged it very comfortably, and the Schuylers have put in 
 all their Turkish rugs, carpets, and bibelots, so it really 
 looks very pretty. There are quantities of green plants 
 and flowers about (they are both fond of flowers and are 
 always making experiments and trying something new) 
 and of course books, papers, reviews, and a piano. 
 
 I told Gert I thought I would write to Vera and have 
 some singing lessons — I have done so little singing since 
 I have been married. Eugene is a charming host, and he 
 and W. had plenty to talk about. I inspected Gert's 
 wardrobe while they were smoking. Her dresses are all 
 right, and I think her maid is good. I wrote all this after 
 I came in. The man of the hotel had engaged a car- 
 riage for us — a nice little victoria with a pair of greys. 
 It comes from Tomba's stables — do you remember the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 45 
 
 name? The same loueur we had when we lived here. 
 The coachman said he remembered me perfectly, had 
 often driven the " signorine " to the meets, and hoped 
 la maman was well. We were lucky to get such a nice 
 little carriage. The d'Aubignys, a French couple, had 
 just given it up, as they were leaving the Embassy here 
 for Berlin. 
 
 We drove about a little — left cards for the Noailles, 
 Desprez, Cairolis, and wound up in the Villa Borghese, 
 which was again quite changed — such quantities of car- 
 riages and people walking, also Italian officers riding, and 
 soldiers, bersaglieri, etc., about. We crossed the Wim- 
 pffens, looking very smiling, and saw in the distance, as 
 we were coming out, the royal red liveries, but the car- 
 riage was too far off to see who was in it. Now we are 
 going to dinner, and I shall be glad to get to bed early. I 
 think I am more tired than yesterday. 
 
 Hotel de Londres, 
 
 February 26, 1880. 
 
 I will begin again this afternoon, as I have a little 
 time before dinner. The weather is divine, quite the 
 same deep-blue sky and bright sun of our first Roman 
 winter. We have had an enchanting drive out of Porta 
 San Sebastiano and along the Via Appia as far as Cecilia 
 Metella — everything exactly the same as when we were 
 there so many years ago. The same peasant carts block- 
 ing up the narrow gateway, everybody talking at once, 
 white teeth gleaming, and quantities of little brown 
 children with black eyes and jet black hair tumbling down 
 over their eyes and outstretched hands for anything the 
 forestieri would put into them. W. was a little disap- 
 pointed at first. The road is narrow, an atrocious pave- 
 ment, and high walls almost shutting out the view. How-
 
 46 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 ever, as we got farther out there came gaps in the walls 
 through which one saw the whole stretch of the Cam- 
 pagna with the Claudian Aqueduct on one side, and when 
 we finally emerged into the open fields, he was delighted. 
 How extraordinary all these old tombs and pyramids are, 
 most of them falling in ruins, with roses and creepers of 
 all kinds holding them together. On one of the largest 
 round tombs there was a peasant house with a garden and 
 vines, and smoke coming out of the chimney, perched 
 quite on the top, with a steep, stony path winding down, 
 where the coachman told me the donkey went up and 
 down, as he too lived in the house with the family. Some 
 of the tombs are very high — real towers. There is 
 hardly a trace of marble or inscription left, but the origi- 
 nal building so strong that the walls remain. 
 
 The queer old tombs, towers, and bits of ruins all along 
 the road interested W. immensely; though he has never 
 been here he knows them all from photographs and repro- 
 ductions, and could tell me a great deal more than I could 
 tell him. We went as far as the round tomb of Cecilia 
 Metella, and then got out and walked a little. I wanted 
 to show him the low wall which we used to jump always 
 when the meet was at Cecilia Metella. Do you remember 
 the first time you came out to see us jump, not at a hunt 
 but one afternoon with Dyer practising to see what the 
 horses and riders would do? You saw us start at a can- 
 ter for the wall, and then shut your eyes tight until we 
 called out to you from the other side. 
 
 This morning W. and I had our first regular turn at 
 sight-seeing. We took a nice little botta on the Piazza, 
 had our Baedeker — a red one, like all the tourists — and 
 were quite happy. Some of the old colleagues were 
 highly entertained seeing us driving about with our 
 Baedeker; said it was W. under a wholly different aspect.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 47 
 
 We wandered about the Vatican for two hours, seeing 
 quantities of things — Sistine Chapel, Stanze Raphael, 
 Apollo Belvedere, etc., and always a beautiful view over 
 the gardens. Later, he says, he must do it all regularly 
 and intelligently with one of his men friends, as I natu- 
 rally could not stand for hours recognising and decipher- 
 ing an old inscription. I left him from time to time, sat 
 down on one of the stone benches, talked to the custode, 
 looked at the other people, and gave them any informa- 
 tion I could. It interested me to see the different nation- 
 alities — almost entirely English, American, German, very 
 few Italian, and no French — yes, one artist, a rather nice 
 looking young fellow who was copying something on the 
 ceiling of one of the " Stanze," rather a difficult process 
 apparently. There were many more women than men — 
 groups of English spinsters doing their sights most thor- 
 oughly — the Americans more casual. The Apollo looked 
 splendid, so young and spirited. We walked some little 
 distance, coming home before we could get a fiacre, and 
 I had forgotten how cruel that Roman pavement was. I 
 don't believe any of my boots will stand it; I shall have 
 to get somewhere here a pair of thick-soled walking 
 shoes. 
 
 We had a quiet hour after breakfast. I have arranged 
 a ladies' corner in the drawing-room. I was in despair 
 the first two days over the room. I had never lived in 
 small hotel quarters with a man, and I had no idea how 
 disorderly they are. The table was covered with pens, 
 papers — piles of them, three or four days old, thick with 
 dust — cigars, cigar ashes over everything, two or three 
 large, bulky black portfolios, very often a pot hat, etc. 
 So we compromised ; W. took one end of the room and 
 I the other. I obtained from the gerant (thanks to Ma- 
 dame Hubert, who is very pretty and on the best of
 
 48 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 terms with him) a small table, large china vase for a 
 plant, a nice arm-chair, and a cushion for the sofa, bor- 
 rowed a table-cloth from Gert, also some small things 
 for my table, and my end looked quite respectable and 
 feminine. The room is large, so we can really get on 
 very well. We had a pleasant visit from the Marquis 
 de Noailles, French Ambassador to the Quirinal, before 
 we went out. He has a charming, easy manner. We 
 are to breakfast at the Embassy, Palazzo Farnese, to- 
 morrow for me to make Madame de Noailles's ac- 
 quaintance. I wonder what I shall think of her? The 
 men all say she is a charmeuse. She is Polish born, was 
 a beautiful woman — I think all Poles have a great charm 
 of manner. 
 
 Trocchi came in, too — so pleased to see me again and 
 to make W.'s acquaintance. The two senators talked 
 politics, and Noailles put me a little au courant of Roman 
 society and the two camps black and white. We went 
 out at 3.30, as I said before, to Cecilia Metella, and 
 stopped at Gert's for tea. W. walked home, and I stayed 
 a little while with her talking over the arrangements for 
 their reception on Sunday. Every one — Romans, diplo- 
 mats, and Americans — they have asked has accepted ; but 
 their rooms are fairly large and I don't think they will 
 be crowded. 
 
 Hotel de Londres, 
 Monday, February 29, 1880. 
 
 I am still tired from the quantity of people we saw last 
 night at the Schuylers. Their reception was most brill- 
 iant ; all the world However, I will begin at the be- 
 ginning. We went to church on Sunday, as Dr. Nevin 
 came to see us Saturday afternoon and said he hoped we 
 would not fail to come. W. found him clever and inter-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 49 
 
 esting. He said he thought I should hardly recognise 
 him in his new church. It is very pretty — English style, 
 built by an English architect (Street) in the new quarter, 
 Via Nazionale, utterly unlike the bare little room outside 
 the Porta del Popolo, where we used to go and do the 
 music. It makes me laugh now when I think of the con- 
 gregation all embarked on a well-known hymn, when 
 suddenly Henrietta would lower the tune one note — if 
 I was tired, as often happened, as one of the gayest 
 balls in Rome was Princess Sciarra's on Saturday night. 
 When I had danced until four o'clock in the morning 
 (the test of the ball was how late it lasted) it was rather 
 an effort to be at church at 10.30 Sunday morning 
 and sing straight through the service. Henrietta had 
 the harmonium and I led the singing. I will say that 
 the effect of the sudden change was disastrous from a 
 musical point of view. However, we did our best. I am 
 afraid Henrietta was not always faithful to Bach and 
 Beethoven in her voluntaries. We had no music, and she 
 played whatever she could remember, and occasionally 
 there were strains of " Araby's Daughter " or " When 
 the Swallows Homeward Fly," which were quite per- 
 ceptible even through the minor chords. I liked doing 
 it all the same, and like it still. I am so fond of the old 
 hymns we used to sing as children, and should like to hear 
 " Shout the Glad Tidings " every Christmas. I never 
 have since we left America and Oyster Bay, where also 
 we did the music, and where, when we were late some- 
 times for church, Faust, the big black Newfoundland dog 
 would come and bark when the bell had stopped, telling us 
 quite plainly we were late — he knew all about it. 
 
 We made the regular Sunday turn in the afternoon — 
 Villa Borghese and Pincio — sent the carriage away and 
 walked home by the Villa Medici. W. loves the view
 
 5 o ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 from the terrace. We met Mrs. Bruce, also looking at 
 the view, and walked home together. She told W. Car- 
 dinal Howard wanted to see him, had known him in Eng- 
 land in the old days, also a young English monsignore — 
 called English oddly enough. She will ask us all to dine 
 together some night next week. I asked her if she re- 
 membered her famous dinner long ago with Cardinal 
 Howard and Dean Stanley. The two divines were very 
 anxious to cross swords. They were such a contrast. 
 Dean Stanley, small, slight, nervous, bright eyes, charm- 
 ing manners, and a keen debater. The Cardinal, tall, 
 large, slow, but very earnest, absolutely convinced. The 
 conversation was most interesting — very animated — but 
 never personal nor even vehement, though their views 
 and judgments were absolutely different on all points. 
 However, both were gentlemen and both large-minded. 
 W. was much interested, as he knew Dean Stanley and 
 his wife Lady Augusta well ; they came often to Paris, 
 and were habitues of Madame Mohl's famous salon, 
 where the literary men of all creeds and countries used to 
 meet. It was there, too, that Dean Stanley and Renan 
 used to meet and talk, the two great intellects finding 
 points in common. I was taken there once or twice after 
 I was first married. It was a curious interior; Madame 
 Mohl, a little old lady, always dressed in white, with a 
 group of men standing around her chair — many more 
 men than women, and never more than twenty or thirty 
 people. I suppose it was the type of the old French lit- 
 eray salon where people went to talk. I naturally listened 
 in those days, not being sufficiently up in all the political 
 and literary questions, and not pinning my faith abso- 
 lutely on the " Revue des Deux Mondes." Mrs. Bruce, 
 too, was often at Madame Mohl's. 
 
 We stopped in a few minutes at the Trinita de' Monti,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 51 
 
 where there was a service of some kind going on. The 
 nuns were singing a low, monotonous chant behind their 
 grating; the church was quite dark, lights only on the 
 altar, a few women kneeling and absorbed, and a few 
 irreverent forestieri looking about and talking in whis- 
 oers. We came down the Spanish Steps, which were 
 quite deserted at that hour — models, beggars, flaneurs, all 
 resting from their labours. 
 
 I was glad to rest a little before dinner, and only 
 dressed afterward, as I couldn't well go down to the pub- 
 lic dining-room in a low red satin dress and diamonds. 
 We went rather early — ten o'clock — to Palazzo Altemps, 
 but found many people already there. The apartment 
 looked very pretty, quantities of flowers and plants wher- 
 ever they could be put. Gert looked very well in yellow 
 satin, and Eugene is always at his best in his own house — 
 very courteous and receiving people as if it were a pleasure 
 to him (which I think it is). We found quantities of 
 old friends — Pallavicinis, Teanos, Lovatellis, Calabrinis, 
 Bandini, Pagets, Mrs. Bruce, Hooker, Grants, etc., and 
 quantities of people we didn't know, and whose acquaint- 
 ance we made of course — Mesdames Minghetti, Cairoli, 
 Despretis, and almost the whole of the Corps Diplo- 
 matique. 
 
 W. enjoyed it very much, did his manners very well, 
 and never looked stiff or bored. I was delighted to see 
 the familiar faces once more. I almost felt as if we had 
 never been away. Madame de Noailles was astounded 
 at the number of people I knew — I think she hadn't real- 
 ized how long I had lived in Rome as a girl. She had 
 heard W. say it was his first visit to Rome, and thought 
 I, too, was here for the first time, and she was naturally 
 surprised to hear me talking to Calabrini about the hunts, 
 cotillons, his coach, and tempi passati generally.
 
 52 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 I have accepted so many invitations that I never can 
 remember them, but the ladies promised to send a card. 
 Aunt Mary Gracie was rather put out with me because I 
 wore no necklace (which couldn't be said of the Roman 
 ladies, who all wore splendid jewels), but I told her it 
 was the last chic in Paris to wear your necklace on your 
 bodice, not on your neck. 
 
 We stayed on after all the beau monde had gone with 
 Aunt Mary, Hooker, a Russian friend of Schuyler's, and 
 Count Palfy, had a nice little supper, champagne and 
 sandwiches, and talked over the party, saying of course 
 (as they say we Kings always do) how pleasant our party 
 was. W. was much interested in the various talks he 
 had. He found Minghetti charming — so intelligent and 
 well up in everything. Cairoli, too, he had been anxious 
 to see; also Visconti Venosta. He was naturally (like all 
 the men) charmed with Madame Minghetti. She must 
 have been beautiful, and has an extraordinary charm of 
 manner. The Cairolis are a very big couple. He is tall 
 and broad, fine eyes — she, too, on a large scale, but hand- 
 some. Of course there were many inquiries from all the 
 old friends for la maman and the family generally. Mrs. 
 Bruce says she never drives in the Doria-Pamphili without 
 thinking of you driving about in your plain black dress 
 and bonnet, with two or three daughters (not quite so 
 plainly dressed) in the carriage, and all always talking 
 and laughing, and enjoying life together. I told her 
 about Florence, where the King of Italy always bowed 
 to you in the Cascine, evidently taking you for the supe- 
 rior of some religious order (he must have thought the 
 novices were lively), and the children in the street used 
 to run up to you and kiss your hand. " He was quite 
 right, to bow to you," she said, " my grand old Repub- 
 lican."
 
 W3 bo
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 53 
 
 March 4, 1880. 
 Yesterday we went again to the Vatican. W. is 
 quite happy, I thought I should never get him away. It 
 is most amusing to walk about old Rome with him, for 
 suddenly over a gateway or at the bottom of an ordinary 
 little court he discovers an inscription or a slab, or an old 
 stone which he knows all about, and we stop. He reads, 
 and recognises, and translates to me, and is wildly inter- 
 ested. It is all so good for him, and puts politics and 
 little annoyances out of his head. It is quite new for me 
 to see Rome from a classical point de vue, but I suppose 
 one enjoys things differently as one grows older. I cer- 
 tainly enjoyed the mad gallops over the Campagna in the 
 old days ; do you remember Mrs. S. who was so severe 
 with us — first because we were Americans (she was Eng- 
 lish) and then because we knew everybody and enjoyed 
 ourselves ? — " when she was young people came to Rome 
 to educate themselves and enjoy the pictures, museums, 
 historical associations, etc. Now one saw nothing but 
 American girls racing over the Campagna with a troop 
 of Roman princes at their heels." Poor dear, she really 
 thought it was a calamity not to be born under the British 
 flag. I suppose that makes the great strength of the 
 English, their absolute conviction that England is the 
 only country in the world. 
 
 They are funny, though — I was discussing something 
 one day with Lady S., and we didn't quite agree; upon 
 which she remarked she supposed I couldn't understand 
 her ideas — she came from a big country where one took 
 broad views of things. I said I thought I did too, but 
 perhaps it is a matter of appreciation — I think, though, 
 I have got geography on my side- 
 
 After breakfast we drove about paying visits. We
 
 54 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 found Princess Teano (who has asked us to dine on 
 Wednesday) and she showed us her boys — the eldest one 
 a beauty. She looked very handsome with her pure 
 Madonna face. She told us her beau-pere (the blind Duke 
 of Sermoneta) had been so pleased to meet W. in Flor- 
 ence. They had a long talk somewhere, and W. was so 
 amused with the Duke's politics and liberalism — all so 
 easy-going, half chaffing, but very decided too, no sound- 
 ing phrases nor profession de foi ; simply accepting (what 
 he couldn't really like very much) the inevitable, de bonne 
 grace ; and seizing and ridiculing all the weak points. 
 
 In France they are frightfully logical, must always 
 argue and discuss everything — I think they are born de- 
 baters. 
 
 We left cards on various people, Princess Bandini, 
 Cenci, Countess Lovatelli, and then went for a little turn 
 out of the San Lorenzo gate, but not far, as we wanted to 
 go to Princess Pallavicini, who received that afternoon. 
 W. was much struck with the apartment — so many 
 rooms, all very high ceilings, that we passed through be- 
 fore getting to the boudoir where the Princess was sitting. 
 It all looked so natural, I remembered the hangings — 
 bright flowers on a light satin ground — as soon as I got 
 into the room, and some of the pictures. She was very 
 cordial and friendly, told W. how long she had known 
 me, and recalled some of our rides at Frascati with her 
 and Del Monte. She asked us to come on Friday even- 
 ings, she was always at home. No one else was there but 
 a Princesse de Thurn and Taxis (nee Hohenlohe) who 
 was introduced to us, and the talk was pleasant enough. 
 She was quite interested in our two audiences — Pope and 
 Quirinal — but we told her we had heard nothing from 
 either court yet. W. walked home, and I went on to 
 Gert as it was her reception day. She gave me a cup of
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 55 
 
 tea, and I found various friends there, including Father 
 Smith who was quite pleased to see me again. He 
 doesn't look any older, and is apparently quite as energetic 
 as ever. He told me he had enjoyed his talk with W. 
 very much, and they had made a rendezvous for two days 
 — the Catacombs and San Clemente. He remarked casu- 
 ally that W. wasn't at all what he expected to find him ; 
 not at all his idea of a " French Republican." I wonder 
 what sort of trade-mark he expected to see? If he 
 had pictured W. as a slight, nervous, black-eyed, voluble 
 Frenchman, he must naturally have been surprised. 
 
 We have heard people discussing us sometimes in Eng- 
 lish as we pass down the long dining-room to our table — 
 " There goes Waddington, the late French Premier." 
 " Never — that man is an Englishman." " I have seen 
 pictures of Waddington — he doesn't look at all like that, 
 etc." The head waiter always points us out as distin- 
 guished strangers. 
 
 I found quantities of cards when I came home — one 
 
 from Lily San Vito with a nice little message of welcome. 
 
 (We crossed her in the Corso the other day and she 
 
 looked lovely.) Also Valerys, Middletons, Pantaleones, 
 
 etc. After I had gone to my room to dress W. had a visit 
 
 from Desprez, the French Ambassador to the Vatican. 
 
 He has just arrived, his wife not yet come, and he feels a 
 
 little strange in this very divided society. We are going 
 
 to meet him at dinner at the Portuguese Embassy. He 
 
 told W. there would be several Cardinals at the dinner — 
 
 a regular black assemblage. It will be a funny experience 
 
 forW. 
 
 March 6, 1880. 
 
 I will finish this long letter to night. We have just 
 come in from the Teano dinner, which was pleasant. 
 Teano looked quite the same (I hadn't seen him for
 
 56 ITALIAN LETTERS [march 
 
 years) with his tall, slight figure and white lock. (I 
 forgot to look if the boy had it.) She looked very hand- 
 some. We had the Minghettis, a Polish Countess — 
 sister-in-law of the Due de Sermoneta, the Calabrinis, 
 and M. Heding, a German savant. Minghetti was de- 
 lightful, telling us his early experiences with the old 
 Pope, Pio Nono. He was killing over the entente between 
 the government and the monks for the suppression of 
 the monasteries. The gendarmes arrived, found barred 
 doors and resistance. There was a sort of halt and parley 
 — one father came out, then another — a little livret of the 
 Caisse d'Epargne was put into their hands, and all went 
 off as quietly as possible. Heding seemed to think things 
 wouldn't go so easily in Germany, and they certainly 
 wouldn't in France. 
 
 Madame Minghetti and I talked for a long time after 
 dinner exchanging our experiences of the official world, 
 which I fancy is always the same in all countries. Cala- 
 brini was of course his same courteous self — so absolutely 
 free from pose of any kind — rather unusual in a man who 
 has always had such a success. 
 
 This morning we went to Trajan's Forum, walked, W. 
 as usual quite at home, everywhere recognising old friends 
 at every step. We looked at all manner of inscriptions 
 and basso-rilievos, and enjoyed ourselves very much. 
 This afternoon W. and Schuyler went off together to see 
 some churches and the Palazzo dei Cesari. I backed out, 
 as I can't stand two sight-seeings the same day with a 
 dinner in prospect in the evening. I went over to get 
 Gert, and we drove about together, winding up at the 
 Comtesse Wimpffens, Austrian Ambassadress, who has 
 a charming apartment in the Palazzo Chigi (where Odo 
 Russell used to live when we were in Rome). There 
 were various ladies there, the Marquise de Noailles,
 
 OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 57 
 
 French Ambassadress (who immediately asked me 
 who made my dress, the blue velvet that did all my visits 
 the last year of the Quai d'Orsay), Lady Paget, Madame 
 Minghetti, and a sprinkling of secretaries and attaches. 
 Comtesse d'Aulnay, looking very pretty, very well 
 dressed, came in just as we were leaving. We wound up 
 with a turn in the Villa Borghese. There were grooms 
 waiting at the gate with saddle horses, just as our old 
 Carmine used to wait for us. It is all so curiously fa- 
 miliar and yet changed. I can't get accustomed to the 
 quantities of people in the streets where there never used 
 to be any one — occasionally a priest, or a few beggars, or 
 a water-carrier. Now there are soldiers, people carrying 
 parcels, small employees, workmen, carts, carriages, life in 
 fact. There were quantities of people in the Villa Bor- 
 ghese. Some of the carriages very well turned out, again 
 very different from our days when we knew every car- 
 riage, and when a new equipage or a new face made a 
 sensation. 
 
 W. has had a delightful afternoon looking at some of 
 the very old churches with Eugene. He had, too, a note 
 from Desprez saying our audience from the Pope would 
 be to-morrow at one o'clock, and giving me the necessary 
 instructions for my veil, long black dress, etc. To-mor- 
 row night we dine at the Noailles. The breakfast there 
 the other day was pleasant — no one but ourselves and 
 Ripalda. Of course it is a magnificent Embassy — the 
 Farnese Palace — and they do it very well, but it would 
 take an army of servants to " garnish " these long ante- 
 rooms and passages, in fact ordinary servants are quite 
 lost there ; there ought to be Swiss guards or halberdiers 
 with steel cuirasses and lances which would stand out 
 splendidly from the old grey walls. One could quite 
 imagine an Ambassador of Louis XIV arriving with 100
 
 58 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 gentlemen and armed retainers in his suite. The famous 
 room with the Caracci frescoes must be beautiful at 
 night. Ripalda asked us to come to tea one afternoon 
 at his palace on the Tiber, the " Farnesina." Marquise 
 de Noailles was charming. 
 
 Now I will say good-night, dear, for I am tired, and 
 we have a busy day to-morrow. I wonder if Leo XIII. 
 will impress me as much as Pio Nono did. 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 Rome, Hotel de Londres, 
 Thursday, March 8, 1880. 
 
 The Piazza is delightful this morning, dear mother; it 
 is bright and warm, and there are lots of people start- 
 ing for excursions with guide-books, white umbrellas, and 
 every variety of wrap. The coachmen of the little botte 
 look so smiling and interested, so anxious to make things 
 easy and comfortable. Vera came to see us yesterday, 
 and told me he was hailed by one of the coachmen from 
 the top of his box, just as he was crossing the Piazza, who 
 said to him : " Sai Maestro, una di quelle signorine King 
 e tornata col marito? " (Do you know, master, one of 
 those King young ladies has come back with her hus- 
 band?) He was much amused — told him he was quite 
 right, and that he was going to see that same signorina. 
 I dare say he had driven us often to one of the gates to 
 meet the saddle horses. 
 
 Yesterday was our udienza particolare (special audi- 
 ence) , and most interesting it was. Madame Hubert was 
 madly excited dressing me. I wore my black satin, long, 
 with the Spanish lace veil I had brought in case I should 
 be received by his Holiness, and of course no gloves, 
 though I had a pair with me and left them in the carriage.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 59 
 
 We started at 12.30, as our audience was at one, and got 
 there quickly enough. I had forgotten all the queer little 
 courts and turns at the back of the Vatican. Everything 
 was ready for us; we were received really in royal state 
 — Swiss Guard, with their extraordinary striped yellow 
 uniform (designed, some one told us the other day, by 
 Michelangelo), tall footmen attired in red damask, 
 Guardia Nobile, chamberlains, and two monsignori. The 
 garde noble de service was Felice Malatesta. He really 
 seemed much pleased to see me again, and to make W.'s 
 acquaintance — swore he would have known me at once, 
 I was so little changed ; but I rather suspect if he hadn't 
 known we were coming he wouldn't have recognised me. 
 We had a nice talk the few minutes we stood waiting in 
 the room adjoining the one where the Pope received us, 
 and he gave me news of all his family — Emilio (still un- 
 married), Francesco, etc.; then a door was opened, a 
 monsignore came out, bowed, and said his Holiness was 
 ready to receive us. We went in at once, the monsignore 
 closing the door behind us and leaving us alone with the 
 Pope, who came almost to the door to receive us, so that 
 the three regulation curtseys were impossible. There 
 were three red and gold arm-chairs at one end of the 
 room, with a thick, handsome carpet in front of them. 
 The Pope sat on the one in the middle, put me on his 
 right and W. on his left. He is a very striking figure; 
 tall, slight, a fine intellectual brow and wonderfully bright 
 eyes — absolutely unlike Pio Nono, the only Pope I had 
 ever approached. He was most gracious, spoke to me 
 always in Italian, said he knew I was an old Roman, and 
 that we had lived many years in Rome; spoke French to 
 W., who, though he knows Italian fairly, prefers speak- 
 ing French. He asked W. all sorts of questions about 
 home politics and the attitude of the clergy, saying that
 
 60 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 as a Protestant his opinion would be impartial (he was 
 well up in French politics, and knew that there were three 
 Protestants in W.'s ministry: himself, Leon Say, and 
 Freycinet). W. was rather guarded at first (decidedly 
 " banale," I told him afterward), but the Pope looked 
 straight at him with his keen, bright eyes, saying : " Je 
 vous en prie, M. Waddington, parlez sons reserves." 
 
 We stayed about three-quarters of an hour, and the talk 
 was most interesting. The Pope is very anxious to bring 
 about a better state of feeling between the clergy and the 
 people in France, and tries so hard to understand why the 
 priests are so unpopular ; asked about the country curate, 
 who baptizes the children and buries the old people — 
 surely there must be a feeling of respect for him ; said, 
 too, that everywhere in town or country the priests do 
 so much for the sick and poor. W. told him the women 
 all went to church and sent their children to the cate- 
 chism, but the men are indifferent, if not hostile, and 
 once the boys have made their first communion they 
 never put their foot in a church. " What will keep them 
 straight and make good men of them, if they grow up 
 without any religious education? " The answer was diffi- 
 cult — example and home teaching, when they get it. Evi- 
 dently he had been curious to see W., and I think he was 
 pleased. It was quite a picture to see the two men — the 
 Pope dressed all in white, sitting very straight in his arm- 
 chair with his two hands resting on the arms of the chair, 
 his head a little bent forward, and listening attentively to 
 every word that W. said. W. drew his chair a little for- 
 ward, spoke very quietly, as he always does, and said all 
 he wanted to say with just the same steady look in his 
 blue eyes. 
 
 From time to time the Pope turned to me and asked 
 me (always in Italian) if politics interested me — he be-
 
 Pope I.e.. XIII.
 
 issoj OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 61 
 
 lieved all French women were keen politicians; also if I 
 had found many old friends in Rome. I told him I was 
 so pleased to see Felice Malatesta as we came in, and that 
 we were going to meet Cardinal Howard one day at 
 breakfast. I shouldn't think he took as much interest in 
 the social life of Rome as Pio Nono did. They used 
 always to say he knew everything about everybody, and 
 that there was nothing he enjoyed so much as a visit from 
 Odo Russell, who used to tell him all sorts of " petites 
 histoires " when their official business was over. 
 
 He also talked a good deal to W. about his uncle, 
 Evelyn Waddington, who lived in Perugia, where he was 
 " sindaco " (mayor) for years. He married an Italian 
 lady, and was more than half Italian — curious for a man 
 called Evelyn Waddington. The Pope had known him 
 well when he was Bishop of Perugia. 
 
 We both kissed his hand when we took leave, and he 
 said again to W. how much he had been interested in all 
 he told him. We lingered a few minutes in the anteroom, 
 as there was some idea Cardinal Nina would receive us, 
 but it had not been arranged. It seemed strange to be 
 in those high, bare rooms again, and reminded me of our 
 visit to Cardinal Antonelli years ago with father, when 
 he showed us his collection of gems. I remember so well 
 his answer to Bessie Curtis (now Marquise de Talley- 
 rand-Perigord), who was looking out of the window, and 
 said it was such an enchanting view, would help one in 
 " des moments de decouragement." " On n'est jamais 
 decourage, mademoiselle." 
 
 I imagine Leo XIII has very difficult moments some- 
 times. 
 
 W. wouldn't come out again as he had letters to write, 
 so I stopped for Gert, and we had a lovely turn in the Villa 
 Pamphili. Quantities of people — it looked very gay.
 
 62 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 We got home about six, and had visits until it was time 
 to dress for our dinner at the Wimpffens. D'Aulnay came 
 first, very anxious to hear about our audience at the 
 Vatican ; and Tagliani, the auditeur of the old " nonce " ; 
 also Dr. Nevin. 
 
 Our dinner at the Wimpffens was very pleasant. Their 
 apartment looks very handsome lighted. There was a 
 fine, pompous old porter at the door downstairs, and 
 plentv of servants and a " chasseur " upstairs. We had 
 all the personnel of the Embassy, the Calabrinis, Bibra 
 (Bavarian Minister), Van Loo (Belgian), and an 
 Austrian whose name I didn't master, who had been a 
 minister in Andrassy's Cabinet. After dinner we all ad- 
 journed to the smoking-room, which is very large and 
 comfortable, lots of low arm-chairs. The Austrian la- 
 dies smoked, and I talked to Bibra and Van Loo, who 
 told me all the diplomats had been rather struck with the 
 cordiality of our reception — that in general the Romans 
 troubled themselves very little about strangers. W. talked 
 to Wimpffen and his Austrian friend, who was much 
 interested in hearing about our audience with the Pope, 
 and a little surprised that W. should have talked to him 
 so freely, both of them saying that his being a Prot- 
 estant made things much easier. 
 
 The Romans went off early, so W. went to Geoffroy 
 (director of the Ecole de Rome — French Archaeological 
 Society), who receives Thursday evenings at the Farnese 
 Palace. He has an apartment quite up at the top of the 
 palace over the Noailles, and I went to Gert, who also 
 received Thursday. I found a good many people there — 
 principally Americans, and some young diplomats. So 
 many people were introduced to me that I was quite ex- 
 hausted, and went and sat down by Aunt Mary, who 
 looked very handsome.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 63 
 
 Sunday, March 10, 1880. 
 
 I shall not go out this morning. It is a little foggy — 
 the first time since we came here — and I was also lazy. 
 We are going so perpetually. Yesterday W. was off at 
 nine in the morning with Geoffrey and Lanciani for 
 a classic tournee. I wrote one or two letters, and then 
 Madame Hubert and I walked over to Gert's and break- 
 fasted. After breakfast Monsignor English came in and 
 had much to say about the Pope, and the impression W. 
 had made which he had heard from high personages of 
 the Vatican. I told him all about the interview, and he 
 was much surprised when I said we all sat down. W. 
 came while he was still there, and of course he wanted to 
 hear his account, and was so pleased with all W. said 
 about the Pope, his marvellous intelligence and compre- 
 hension of the present very difficult state of affairs in 
 France. English also said the Pope had been pleased 
 with me (I did nothing but listen) so I plucked up my 
 courage, and asked him if he thought his Holiness would 
 give me a photograph signed — I should like so much to 
 have one. He said it would be difficult, as the Pope 
 
 never signed a photo — but perhaps . I should like 
 
 one so much — I hope he will make an exception for this 
 heretic. 
 
 W. and I walked home, and then I dressed, and we 
 started again for some visits. We found Princess Ban- 
 dini, who was most amiable — very pleased to make W.'s 
 acquaintance, also rather curious about the Vatican visit. 
 There were quantities of people there, principally diplo- 
 mats and English. W. thought the apartment very hand- 
 some. 
 
 We tried to find Madame Calabrini, but she was not 
 receiving. We dined at the Noailles. I wore my blue
 
 64 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 satin and all the diamonds I possess. The apartment 
 looked very ambassadorial — the great gallery lighted, 
 superb. The dinner was handsome — Wimpffens, Pagets, 
 Uxkulls (Russian Ambassador, you will remember him 
 in Florence the year we were there), Cairolis, Geoffroys, 
 Schuylers, and various young men. Maffei, the Under- 
 Secretary of State, took me in, and I had Cairoli on the 
 other side. I didn't find him very easy to talk to. He 
 doesn't speak French very well, so I changed into Italian 
 (which I am gradually getting back) and then we got on 
 better. I shouldn't think he was much of a ladies' man, 
 and never a brilliant talker. Maffei is very clever and 
 amusing. Gert sat just opposite, looking very well in 
 yellow. 
 
 During the dinner Maffei called my attention to the 
 menu " Cotelettes a la Waddington," and asked me if 
 W. was as much of an authority in cooks as he was in 
 coins. I disclaimed any such knowledge for him, and 
 was rather curious to see what the " cotelettes " would 
 prove to be. They were a sort of chaud-froid, with a 
 thick, white envelope, on which was a large W. in 
 truffles. The whole table was rather amused, and Madame 
 de Noailles gave us the explanation. Her chef had been 
 some time with us at the Quai d'Orsay, and when he 
 heard W. was coming to dinner was much excited, and 
 anxious to do honour to his old master — so he consulted 
 Madame de Noailles, and that was the result. I will keep 
 the menu for you. 
 
 After dinner we adjourned to the beautiful Carracci 
 gallery, and there I was presented to various ladies — Ma- 
 dame d'Uxkull (ci-devant Madame Gheka), very hand- 
 some ; and Madame Visconti Venosta, an attractive look- 
 ing woman with charming manners. I had quite a talk 
 with Lady Paget, who looks always very distinguished
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 65 
 
 with her beautiful figure. She told me Mrs. Edwards's 
 baby had arrived — a little girl — to be called " Gay " after 
 her daughter.* I hope she will grow up as pretty as her 
 mother. I talked some time to Madame Cairoli who was 
 very amiable and expansive, called me always " Madame 
 la Comtesse " ; and offered me anything I wanted from 
 cards for the Chamber to a presentation to the Queen. 
 
 There was quite a reception in the evening — not many 
 of the Roman ladies. Marc Antonio Colonna came up — 
 recalled himself, and introduced me to his wife — very 
 pretty, with splendid jewels. She is the daughter of 
 the Duke of Sant-Arpino, a very handsome man. Her 
 mother, the Duchess, an English woman, also very hand- 
 some, so she comes fairly by her beauty. I walked about 
 the rooms with Wimpffen, and he showed me all the 
 notabilities in the parliamentary world. Lady Paget 
 asked us to go to her on Sunday afternoon, and I prom- 
 ised Nevin we would go to his church, but we didn't. 
 
 W. has just received an intimation that King Hum- 
 bert will receive him to-morrow at one o'clock, and I 
 have told Madame Hubert to get out his Italian decora- 
 tions, as he always forgets to put them on, and it seems 
 in all courts they attach much importance to these mat- 
 ters. We are starting now for a drive ; first to the Villa 
 Wolkonsky — I want to show it to W., and we shall prob- 
 ably go in late to the British Embassy. 
 
 Monday, March n, 1880. 
 The King gave W. his audience to-day at one. He 
 went off most properly attired, with his Italian ribbon. 
 He generally forgets to put on his orders, and was de- 
 cidedly put out one day in Paris when he arrived at a 
 
 * Now the Hon. Sylvia Edwards, Maid of Honour to Queen Alexandra.
 
 66 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 royal reception without the decoration the sovereign had 
 just sent him. The explanation was difficult — he could 
 hardly tell the King he had forgotten. W. got back again 
 a little after two, and said the interview was pleasant 
 enough — the King very gracious, and he supposed, for 
 him, talkative ; though there were long pauses in the con- 
 versation — he leaning on his sword, with his hands 
 crossed on the hilt as his father always did — spoke about 
 the Queen, said she was in Rome, and he believed Madame 
 Waddington had known her when she was Princess de 
 Piedmont. I never was presented to her — saw her only 
 from a distance at some of the balls. I remember her 
 quite well at a ball at the Teanos in a blue dress, with 
 her beautiful pearls. I hope she will receive us. He 
 talked less politics than the Pope; said France and Italy, 
 the two great Latin races, ought to be friends, and de- 
 plored the extreme liberty of the press; knew also that 
 W. was in Rome for the first time, and hoped he would 
 have fine weather. He did not ask him anything about 
 his interview with the Pope. W. said the reception was 
 quite simple — nothing like the state and show of the 
 Vatican. There was a big porter at the door of the pal- 
 ace, two or three servants on the stairs, and two officers, 
 aides-de-camp, in the small salon opening into the King's 
 cabinet. 
 
 Soon after he came in we had visits — Hooker, Mon- 
 signor English, a French priest, head of St. Louis des 
 Frangais, and Del Monte, whom I hadn't yet seen. He 
 was so nice and friendly — doesn't look really much older, 
 though he says he feels so. I told him it seemed un- 
 natural not to have a piano. He would have brought his 
 cello, and we could have plunged into music and quite for- 
 gotten how many years had passed since we first played 
 and sang the " Stella Confidente."
 
 King Humbert of Italy.
 
 i88oj OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 67 
 
 After they had all gone we started out to the " Tre 
 Fontane," taking Gert with us to see the establishment 
 of the French Trappists who are trying to " assainir " 
 the Campagna by planting eucalyptus trees. It is an in- 
 teresting experiment, but rather a dangerous one, as sev- 
 eral of the fathers have died. The summer here, with 
 that deadly mist that rises from the Campagna, must be 
 fatal, and the two monks we saw looked yellow and shriv- 
 elled with fever. However, they will persevere, with 
 that extraordinary tenacity and devotion of the Cath- 
 olic priests when they undertake anything of that kind. 
 I carried off a bottle of Elixir of Eucalpytus, for I am 
 sorry to say these last bright days have given me an 
 unpleasant souvenir in the shape of a cold chill every now 
 and then between the shoulders, and evidently there is 
 still truth in the Roman proverb " Cuore di donna, onde 
 di mare, sole di Marzo, non ti fidare." (Don't trust a 
 woman's heart, the waves of the sea, nor the March sun.) 
 
 We got home about half-past six, had tea and more 
 visits — Calabrini, Vitelleschi, and Princess Pallavicini, 
 who was most animated, and talked politics hard with W. 
 We dined at home and had a little talk, just as we were 
 finishing dinner, with Menabrea, who was dining at a 
 table next ours. They say he will go to the Paris Em- 
 bassy in Cialdini's place. W. wouldn't go out again, so 
 I went alone to Gert's, who had a few people — Mrs. Van 
 Rensselaer, clever and original ; Countess Calice, an Amer- 
 ican ; her husband, a cousin of the Malatestas ; Vera ; 
 young Malatesta, a son of Francesco ; a Russian secretary, 
 and one or two others. It was rather a pleasant evening. 
 They had tea in the dining-room — everybody walked 
 about, and the men smoked.
 
 68 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 Tuesday, March 13, 1880. 
 
 Yesterday morning W. and I had a good outing, wan- 
 dering about the Capitol. First we walked around Mar- 
 cus Aurelius, then up the old worn stone steps to the Ara 
 Cceli. I told W. how we used to go there always on 
 Christmas Eve to see the Creche and the Bambino. It 
 was very well done, and most effective. The stable, 
 beasts, shepherds, and kings (one quite black with a fine 
 crown). There were always children singing the " storia 
 di Gesu" and babies in arms stretching out their hands 
 to the lights. Yesterday the church was quite empty, as 
 there is not much to attract the ordinary tourist. We 
 made our way slowly, W. stopping every moment before 
 an inscription, or a sarcophagus, or a fresco, to the room 
 of the " Dying Gladiator," which he found magnificent — 
 was not at all disappointed; afterward the faun — and 
 then sauntered though all the rooms. I had forgotten the 
 two skeletons in one of the sarcophagi — the woman's 
 with rings on her fingers, most ghastly. 
 
 After lunch Countess Wimpffen came in to know if 
 I would drive with her to the Villa Borghese, and do two 
 teas afterwards — Madame Cairoli and Madame Westen- 
 berg (wife of the Dutch Minister, an American and a 
 great friend of Gert's) ; but I couldn't arrange it, as W. 
 wanted to come with me to the Affaires Etrangeres — so 
 we agreed to go another day. I always liked both Wimpf- 
 fens so much when they were in Paris that it is a great 
 pleasure to find them here. Wimpffen likes to get hold 
 of W. and talk about France and French politics. 
 
 Our dinner at Mrs. Bruce's was very gay. I told her 
 I didn't find her salon much prettier than in our days 
 when we lived on the first floor of Perret's house (she on 
 the second), and she always said we made Pierret send
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 69 
 
 up to her, all the ugly furniture we wouldn't have. What 
 we kept was so bad, that I think the " rebut " must have 
 been something awful. We had the Minghettis, Vitel- 
 leschis, Wurts, Wilbrahams, Schuylers, and one or two 
 stray Englishmen. Vitalleschi took me in, and I had 
 Minghetti on the other side, so I was very well placed. 
 It is killing to hear them talk politics — discussing all the 
 most burning questions with a sort of easy persiflage and 
 " esprit de conciliation " that would astound our " grands 
 politiques " at home. Minghetti said the most absolutely 
 liberal man he had ever known was Pio Nono — but what 
 could he do, once he was Pope. 
 
 It was really a charming dinner — Mrs. Bruce is an 
 ideal hostess. She likes to hear the clever men discuss, 
 and always manages to put them on their mettle. We 
 all came away about the same time, and W. and I went 
 on to the opera " Tor di None." Bibra had invited us to 
 come to his box. The house was much less " elegante " 
 than the Paris house — hardly any one in a low dress, no 
 tiaras, and few jewels. The Royal box empty. Princess 
 Bandini was in the next box with Del Monte and Trochi. 
 The Minghettis opposite with the Wimpffens. The 
 " salle " was badly lighted — one could hardly make the 
 people out. 
 
 W. had rather a shock — we had scarcely got in — 
 (Bibra not yet come) when the door opened and in came 
 Maurizio Cavaletti — enchanted to see me — seizing both 
 my hands — " Maria mia adorata — cara regazza, etc.," 
 utterly oblivious of " cara Maria's " husband, who stood 
 stiff and cold (an icicle) in the background, with Anglo- 
 Saxon written all over him ; waiting for the exuberant 
 demonstration to finish, and a presentation to be made. 
 As soon as I could I presented Monsieur le Marquis in 
 proper form, and explained that we were very old friends,
 
 70 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 had not met for years, etc., but W. hardly thawed all the 
 evening. 
 
 When he went out of the box to pay a visit to our 
 neighbours I remonstrated vigorously with Maurizio, but 
 he was so unfeignedly astonished at being taken to task 
 for greeting a very old friend warmly, that I didn't make 
 much impression. The ballet was pretty, and of course 
 there was an influx of young men as soon as it began — 
 a handsome, rather stout " ballerina " being evidently a 
 favourite. 
 
 To-day we breakfasted with the Schuylers to meet 
 Mrs. Bruce and Cardinal Howard — no one else. We had 
 a pretty little breakfast, most lively. I didn't find the 
 Cardinal much changed, a little stouter perhaps. He was 
 quite surprised at W.'s English; knew of course that he 
 had been educated at Rugby and Cambridge, and had the 
 Chancellor's medal, but thought he would have lost it a 
 little having lived so many years in France, and having 
 made all his political career in French. I asked him if he 
 was as particular as ever about his horses. He always 
 had such splendid black horses when we lived in Rome, 
 but he said, rather sadly, that times were changed. W. 
 and he talked a long time after breakfast. He was very 
 anxious to know whether all the religious orders were 
 threatened in France or merely the Jesuits. Comte Palfy 
 (Austrian) came in just as we were leaving. He is so 
 attractive — a great friend of l'Oncle Alphonse — knows 
 everybody here and loves Rome. 
 
 W. and I went off to the Villa Albani — out of Porta 
 Salara. We walked through the rooms — there are prin- 
 cipally busts, statues, bas-reliefs, etc. — and then loitered 
 about the gardens which are fine. Fountains, vases, and 
 statues in every direction, and always that beautiful view 
 of the hills in the soft afternoon light.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 71 
 
 I will finish when I come home from our Black dinner. 
 We are asked for seven, so of course will get back early, 
 as we do not go anywhere afterward. I shall wear 
 black, as I hear so many Princes of the church are to be 
 there. Madame Hubert is very sorry I can't wear the 
 long black veil that I did for the Pope — she found that 
 most becoming. 
 
 Tuesday, March 12, 1880, 10.30 p.m. 
 We are just home from our dinner at the Portuguese 
 Embassy, so I have got out of my gauds and into my tea- 
 gown, and will finish this long letter. It was most in- 
 teresting — a great deal of couleur locale. We arrived 
 very punctually — three or four carriages driving up at 
 the same time. There was of course a magnificent por- 
 ter downstairs, and quantities of servants in handsome 
 liveries; a good deal of red and powder. Two giants at 
 the foot of the staircase, with the enormous tall candles 
 which are de rigueur at a Black embassy when car- 
 dinals or ambassadors dine. They were just preparing 
 to escort some swell up the staircase as we arrived ; there 
 was a moment's halt, and the swell turned out to be M. 
 Desprez, the new French Ambassador to the Vatican (re- 
 placing the Marquis de Cabriac). He was half embar- 
 rassed when he recognised us ; W. had so lately been his 
 chef that he couldn't quite make up his mind to pass 
 before him — especially under such novel and rather try- 
 ing conditions. However, there was nothing to be done, 
 and he started up the great staircase between the tall 
 candles, W. and I followed modestly in his wake. We 
 found several people, including two or three cardi- 
 nals, already there. The apartment is very handsome. 
 The Ambassador (Thomar) looked very well — " tres 
 grand seigneur " — standing at the door of the first salon,
 
 7 2 ITALIAN LETTERS [march 
 
 and one saw quite a vista of large, brilliantly lighted 
 rooms beyond. All the guests arrived very quickly 
 — we had hardly time to exchange a word with any one. 
 I saw the Sulmonas come in. I recognised her instantly, 
 though I hadn't seen her for years. She was born Ap- 
 ponyi, and they were married when we were living in 
 Rome. Also Marc Antonio Colonna and the d'Aulnays. 
 Almost immediately dinner was announced. Sulmona 
 took me in and I had a cardinal (Portuguese) on the 
 other side. I didn't say much to the cardinal at first. 
 He talked to his neighbour, and Sulmona and I 
 plunged, of course, into old Roman days. He was much 
 amused at the composition of the dinner, and wondered 
 if it would interest W. He asked me if I remembered 
 the fancy ball at the Palazzo Borghese. He had still 
 the album with all the photos, and remembered me per- 
 fectly as " Folie " with short skirts, bells, mirror, etc. 
 I remember it, of course, quite well. Some of the 
 costumes were beautiful, particularly those copied from 
 portraits. After a little while the cardinal turned his 
 attention to me. He was a nice old man, speaking 
 either French or Italian (both with a strong accent), and 
 much interested in the guests. He asked me if I 
 belonged to the corps diplomatique. I said no — we were 
 merely strangers spending the winter in Rome. He 
 thought there were a good many strangers at table — 
 he didn't know half the people, not having been long in 
 Rome ; but he knew that there was one man dining whom 
 he had a great desire to see, Waddington, the late French 
 Premier; perhaps I knew him, and could point him out. 
 He had always followed his career with great interest, 
 but there were some things he couldn't understand, " par 
 exemple son attitude dans la question — " Then as I 
 didn't know what he might be going to say, I interrupted,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 73 
 
 and said no one could point out that gentleman as well as 
 I, as I was Madame Waddington. He looked a little un- 
 comfortable, so I remarked, " II diavolo non e tanto nero 
 quant e dipinto " (The devil is not so black as he is 
 painted), to which he replied, " Eh, no punto diavolo" 
 (no devil) — was rather amused, and asked me if I would 
 introduce him to W. after dinner. We then, of course, 
 talked a little about France, and how very difficult the 
 religious question was. He asked me where I had 
 learned Italian, so I told him how many years we had 
 lived in Rome when my brother was the last Minister 
 from the United States to the Vatican. Sulmona joined 
 in the talk, and we rather amused ourselves. Sulmona, 
 of course, knew everybody, and explained some of the 
 people, including members of his own (Borghese) family, 
 who were very Black and uncompromising. Still, as I 
 told him, the younger generation is less narrow-minded, 
 more modern. I don't think they mean to cut themselves 
 off from all participation in the nation's history. After 
 all, they are all Italians as well as Romans. The foreign 
 marriages, too, make a difference. I don't think the sons 
 of English and American mothers could settle down to 
 that life of inaction and living on the past which the 
 Black Party means in Rome. 
 
 As soon as I could after dinner I got hold of W. 
 (which was difficult, as he was decidedly surrounded) 
 and introduced him to my cardinal, whose name I never 
 got, and I went to recall myself to Princess Sulmona. 
 We had a nice talk first about her people — her father, 
 Count Apponyi, was Austrian Ambassador in Paris when 
 Marshal MacMahon was President, and their salon was 
 very brilliant, everybody going to them ; the official world 
 and the Faubourg St. Germain meeting, but not mingling. 
 Then we talked a little about Rome, and the future of
 
 74 ITALIAN LETTERS [march 
 
 the young generation just growing up. Of course it is 
 awfully difficult for families like Borghese and Colonna 
 who have been bound up in the old papal world, and given 
 popes to Italy, to break away from the traditions of cen- 
 turies and go in frankly for " Italia Unita." Do you 
 remember what they used to tell us of Prince Massimo? 
 When some inquisitive woman asked if they really called 
 themselves Fabius Maximus, he replied that it had been 
 a family name for 1,400 years. 
 
 The present Prince Massimo is one of the most zealous 
 supporters of the Pope. The great doors of his gloomy 
 old palace have never been opened since the King of Italy 
 came to Rome. One can't help admiring such absolute 
 conviction and loyalty ; but one wants more than that in 
 these days of progress to keep a country alive. 
 
 The evening wasn't long ; the cardinals never stay late, 
 and every one went away at the same time. We again 
 assisted at the ceremony of the big candles, as of course 
 every cardinal and the Ambassador had to be conducted 
 downstairs with the same form. It was altogether a very 
 interesting evening and quite different from any dinner 
 we had ever been at. I don't think the French cardinals 
 ever dine out in France ; I don't remember ever meeting 
 one. Of course the " nunzio " went everywhere and al- 
 ways had the " pas " — but one looks upon him more as 
 a diplomatist than a priest. 
 
 W. enjoyed his evening very much. He is now set- 
 tled in his arm-chair with his very disreputable pipe, and 
 has been telling me his experiences. He found my old 
 cardinal very intelligent, and very well up in French poli- 
 tics, and life generally. He liked Sulmona, too, very 
 much; made her acquaintance, but didn't have a chance 
 to talk much to her, as so many people were introduced 
 to him. There is certainly a great curiosity to see him —
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 75 
 
 I wonder what people expected to find? He looks very 
 well, and is enjoying himself very much. I am so glad 
 we did not stay in Paris; he would have had all sorts 
 of small annoyances, and as it is, his friends write and 
 want him to come back. He is quite conscious of the 
 sort of feeling there is about him. First his appearance 
 — a great many people refuse to believe that he is a 
 Frenchman; he certainly is not at all the usual French 
 type, with his fair hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders ; 
 and when they realize that it is he the cautious, doubtful 
 way in which the clericals begin a conversation with 
 him, as if they expected red-hot anarchist declarations to 
 fall from his lips, is most amusing. Cardinal Howard 
 always seeks him out for a talk — but then he doesn't 
 mince matters — goes straight to the subject he wants to 
 discuss, and told him the other day he couldn't under- 
 stand how a man of his English habits and education 
 should ever have dropped (he didn't say degenerated, but 
 I think he thought it) into a French republican govern- 
 ment. 
 
 W. is very pleased to see the cordial way in which 
 everybody meets me, and I must say I am rather touched 
 by it myself. I have never had a moment's disappoint- 
 ment, and I was a little afraid, coming back in such 
 changed circumstances after so many years. Everybody 
 asks after you, and some one the other day — Countess 
 Malatesta, I think — asked if you still wore in Paris your 
 plain black dress and bonnet. I suppose she thought that 
 even you couldn't have resisted the Paris modiste. It 
 would seem strange to see you in a hat and feathers. 
 
 Good-night, dearest; W.'s pipe is out, and we are going 
 to bed.
 
 76 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 Hotel de Londres, 
 
 March 14, 1880. 
 
 Cannons are firing, drums beating, flags flying in all 
 directions to-day, dear mother. It is King Humbert's 
 birthday and there is to be a great revue on the Piazza 
 dell' Indipendenza. We are invited to go and see it by 
 Turkam Pacha, Turkish Minister, who has an apartment 
 on the Piazza; but as he told us that we should meet 
 Ismail Pacha (the ex-Khedive) we thought we had bet- 
 ter remain at home. I hardly think it would be a pleas- 
 ure to Ismail to meet the man who was one of the chief 
 instruments in his downfall. My sympathies were rather 
 with the Khedive — I never quite understood why France 
 and England should have politely but forcibly insisted 
 upon his leaving his throne and country — but whenever 
 I raised the question I had always that inert force the 
 " raison d'etat " opposed to me. We crossed him the 
 other day driving. The carriage full of red-fezzed men 
 attracted my attention, and our Giuseppe told us who 
 they were. He looked very fat and smiling, evidently 
 was not ronge by his disasters. Turkam suggested 
 that I should come alone, but that of course I could not 
 do. 
 
 Mrs. Bailey, who has also an apartment on the Piazza, 
 has asked us to come to her, but I think I shall stay 
 quietly at home and look out of the window. I see lots 
 of officers and functionaries, in uniform, passing in fiacres 
 and riding, and a general migration of the whole city 
 including the beggars and flower girls of the Spanish 
 Steps toward the Piazza. W. says he will smoke his 
 cigar walking about in the crowd, and will see very well. 
 
 I was interrupted by a message from Gert begging me 
 to come to her at once. Her maid was in such an ex-
 
 
 
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 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 77 
 
 traordinary state of violence she thought she was crazy 
 — and as Eugene was away for a day or two she was 
 really afraid. I questioned the little footman who brought 
 the note but he was very non-committal. W. was already 
 off to see the review and I left him a note explaining 
 where I was and asking him if I didn't get back to 
 breakfast to come and get me at Gert's. I then started 
 off with the little footman who had a fiacre waiting. 
 As I entered the court of the Palazzo Altemps a glimpse 
 of a white, frightened face at the window told me what 
 Gert's state was. Poor dear, she was terribly upset, 
 and Eugene's being away is a complication. Her two 
 men-servants are very devoted, but they evidently feel 
 uncomfortable. She asked me if I would go with her 
 and see the woman. We found her sitting in a chair 
 in Gert's dressing-room looking certainly most unpleas- 
 ant, sullen, and an ugly look in her eyes. She is a great 
 big Southern woman (French), could throw Gert out of 
 the window if she wanted to. Gert spoke to her very 
 gently, saying I had come to see her as I had heard she 
 was not well. She didn't answer nor move but gave 
 Gert a nasty look — she evidently has got something 
 against her. I looked at her very steadily — said we were 
 very sorry she was suffering, which was most evident, 
 and that the best thing for her would be to rest, attempt 
 no service of any kind and go to her own room — that we 
 had sent for Dr. Valery who would certainly be able to 
 relieve her. She didn't answer at first, and looked as if 
 she would like to spring upon us both, then burst into 
 screams of abuse — " She would go to her room of course 
 — would leave the house at once and never come back, 
 etc." I told her I should certainly advise Mrs. Schuy- 
 ler to send her away — that evidently the climate did not 
 suit her, and she would be happier in France. She didn't
 
 78 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 answer, relapsed into her sullen silence, and almost imme- 
 diately Valery appeared. He insisted very quietly that 
 she should go to her own room (at the other end of the 
 apartment), and she went off with him, giving an ugly 
 look at Gert as she passed. It seems she already had had 
 such an attack, less violent, when they were at Birming- 
 ham, but once it was over went on quite peaceably and 
 didn't seem to realize how ill she had been. Valery came 
 back to tell us the result of his examination — said she had 
 already calmed down and was anxious to beg her mis- 
 tress's pardon, but that she was of a nervous, dangerous 
 temperament, and at any moment might have a relapse. 
 Of course she must go, but it is very uncomfortable. I 
 took Gert out for a drive. W. sent me a line to say he 
 was busy all the afternoon and would not come unless I 
 wanted him. I think the air and distraction did her 
 good. The streets had a decidedly festive appearance. 
 There were a good many flags everywhere, and soldiers 
 still passing on their way back to their various barracks. 
 We were kept some time in the Corso seeing a battalion 
 of " bersaglieri " pass. They had good music and looked 
 very spirited as they moved along with all their feathers 
 flying. They were rather small, but well set up, and 
 marched in beautiful time with a light, quick step. We 
 saw some cavalry too, but I didn't care so much for them. 
 I thought the men looked too tall for the horses — their 
 legs too near the ground. 
 
 We went to Nazzari's for tea, and the man was so 
 smiling and pleased to see me that I asked him if he knew 
 me — " Ma si, certamente, la Signorina King " — had seen 
 me various times in the Piazza or driving, and hoped I 
 would come in some day for tea. I went upstairs with 
 Gert when I took her home, and left every possible in- 
 struction with the maitre d'hotel to look after her, and
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 79 
 
 above all to look after Louise, and not let her leave her 
 room. The cook's wife will help her dress, as the poor 
 thing has a dinner. 
 
 We have dined quietly at home. W. was tired, hav- 
 ing been out all day. There is a reception at the French 
 Embassy, but we shan't go. I told W. about the maid 
 and the exciting morning we had had. He said of course 
 the woman must go at once — that she had evidently a 
 grudge of some kind against Gert, and might do her some 
 injury. He had had rather a pleasant day. He walked 
 about in the crowd seeing everything very well. He was 
 rather favourably impressed with the Italian soldiers — 
 said they were small as a rule, but light and active — 
 marched very well. The King looked well, and was very 
 well received. He thought him a striking figure on 
 horseback in uniform, that curious type of all the Savoy 
 Princes. They don't look modern at all, but as if they 
 belonged to another century. I don't know exactly what 
 it is — one sees the same sort of face so often in old 
 Spanish and Italian portraits. 
 
 He had breakfasted alone, as I was over with Gert, and 
 then started off with Monsignor English to meet Father 
 Smith at the Catacombs, where they had a long delight- 
 ful afternoon. He says Father Smith is a charming 
 guide, knows and loves every corner of the Catacombs. 
 His brogue, too, is attractive, sounds so out of place in 
 that atmosphere of Latin and old-world tombs and in- 
 scriptions. He also told me what pleased me very much, 
 that the Pope will give me his photograph, signed. 
 Monsignor English told him to tell me, and he will come 
 and see us to-morrow. Among our cards was one from 
 the Cardinal Di Pietro — Doyen of the College of Car- 
 dinals — coming first to see W. What would the Proto- 
 cole say ?
 
 8o ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 March 16, 1880. 
 Schuyler has got back, and the maid is a lamb, but is 
 going all the same. The doctor and the other servants 
 advise it strongly, and I am sure Gert will find a nice 
 Italian maid here to replace her. W. and I have done a 
 fair amount of sight-seeing these days, and yesterday he 
 paid a long visit to Cardinal Nina — Secretary of Foreign 
 Affairs for the Vatican. He found him reasonable and 
 interesting. I tell him he is getting quite a " papalino " — 
 he finds the Cardinals so pleasant. He came and got me 
 after his visit and we went off to the Chambre des Depu- 
 tes. Visconti Venosta was going to make a great speech 
 attacking the Ministry on their foreign policy, and they 
 thought there would be a lively seance. We were in the 
 Diplomatic box — all the Ambassadors were there, and 
 he had just got up to speak as we got there. They 
 don't speak from the tribune, as in France. Every man 
 speaks from his own place — and as he had his back to us 
 we didn't hear very well. He spoke very easily, and 
 was very well listened to. Occasionally there would be 
 a sort of growl of disapproval, but on the whole the 
 house was much quieter than ours. Cairoli looked quite 
 composed when Visconti was pitching into him, smiling 
 even when he remarked he didn't understand the Italian 
 character, nor how to use the great powers his position 
 gave him, etc. Various people came up and spoke to 
 me, among others Countess Celleri, who seems to be tak- 
 ing up politics now. She has grown a little older, but is 
 very handsome still, and was evidently a great attraction 
 to all the young diplomatists who were in the box. W. 
 admired her appearance and manner very much. We 
 stayed there till 5.30 hoping that Cairoli would answer, 
 but he didn't, the discussion rather trailed on, so we went
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 81 
 
 for a turn in the Villa Borghese to get a little air be- 
 fore our dinner at the British Embassy. It was very 
 crowded, all the swells driving — King, Queen, and 
 Khedive all in separate carriages. The King in a small 
 victoria with one aide-de-camp — the Queen in her big 
 landau with one lady and the red royal liveries; the 
 Khedive in an ordinary carriage, but conspicuous, as he 
 and his gentlemen all wore the red fez. 
 
 Our Paget dinner was pleasant. They have got a 
 big villa in the Venti Settembre out toward Porta Pia. 
 There is a large garden with fine trees, and the entrance 
 and staircase are handsome. We were 36 — Italians 
 chiefly — but a few Diplomatists. I knew almost every 
 one, Calabrinis, Minghettis, Somaglias (you will remem- 
 ber her name, she was Gwendoline Doria, and married 
 when we lived in Rome), Serristori, Castagneta and some 
 Deputies and gentlemen of the Palace who, of course, 
 were strangers to me. The dining-room is large with a 
 quite round table which must be very difficult to cover, 
 there were such spaces. I think there must have been 
 hundreds of roses on the table. The Marquis de Villa- 
 marina, head of the Queen's household, took me in, and 
 I had Uxkull on the other side, Lady Paget next to him. 
 We all talked together, and I complimented Lady Paget 
 on the quickness of the service. It was always one of 
 our preoccupations at the Ouai d'Orsay to get through 
 these long official dinners as soon as possible. W. took 
 in Madame Visconti Venosta, and they seemed to be get- 
 ting on swimmingly. After dinner I talked some time 
 to Countess Somaglia, and asked to be introduced to the 
 Marquise Villamarina. She told me the Queen would 
 certainly receive us, but couldn't quite fix the day yet as 
 she had many official rendezvous these days. When the 
 men came in from smoking I had a few words with Cala-
 
 82 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 brini, and one or two Deputies were presented, Sella, 
 Lanza, etc., but I really only talked to Sir Augustus 
 Paget. He said they were going to have a small ball 
 after Easter, and hoped we should still be here. I hope we 
 shall, I should like to see the ball-room — they say all the 
 decoration, painting, flowers, cupids, etc., has been done 
 by Lady Paget herself. The party broke up early, no one 
 stays late at dinner. There is always a reception some- 
 where to which everybody goes. 
 
 We came home as I get tired at night. We begin our 
 day early, and are never in the house. This morning 
 Gert and I went out shopping in the Piazza della Minerva 
 and Campo Marzo — it was most amusing. We got two 
 dresses for her — one of that coarse Roman linen, and a 
 very pretty Roman silk from Bianchi, the same man who 
 existed in our days. He looked most smiling and evi- 
 dently recognised the familiar faces, though he could not 
 put a name to them. We got the linen in a funny little 
 old shop, low, and as dark as pitch. I never should have 
 dreamed of going there for anything, but some one told 
 us it was the place for linen, and we found at once what 
 we wanted. I bought two Roman sashes — one for Alice 
 and a ribbon for Nounou. We pottered about for some 
 time looking at the bits of old brocade and embroidery, 
 some pieces stretched out on the pavement with a stone 
 at each end to hold them down. There were two pieces 
 of old rose brocade which looked very tempting, but when 
 I took them up I saw there were thin places in the silk, 
 and spots — so I resisted these " occasions." The woman 
 was amusing, tried to make us buy, but knew quite well 
 her silk was not first-rate. She evidently attached no 
 importance to the spots (e vecchia), but allowed that the 
 frayed bits were not encouraging. 
 
 This afternoon we have been again to the Chambre
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 83 
 
 des Deputes — Cairoli was speaking. He has a good 
 voice, we heard him much better than Visconti Venosta. 
 / didn't find his speech very interesting. There were all 
 sorts of details and references to despatches and blue 
 books which were Greek to me, but of course W. liked 
 it and knew the question thoroughly so he said he would 
 stay and I had much better go and get some fresh air. 
 The heat was something awful and the box full, so I 
 took myself off. One of the Austrian secretaries came 
 down with me to look for the carriage and I started for 
 a solitary turn in the Villa Borghese. I hadn't gone very 
 far when I met Comtesse Wimpffen alone in her carriage. 
 We drew up for a little talk, and she proposed I should 
 send my carriage away and come into hers, which I was 
 delighted to do. We went for a little walk, and met 
 various friends — Marchesa Theoduli * looking lovely. 
 She was very amusing over the divided state of soci- 
 ety — says she is not allowed to bow to the Queen, and 
 as they meet almost every day driving and neither of 
 them can pass inapercue it is rather awkward. Mrs. 
 Lorillard Spencer came up too, she was walking with 
 her daughter, Princess Vicovaro, whose husband was 
 " le beau Cenci " of our days. It was delicious loung- 
 ing about on the grass under the trees, after the heat 
 of the Chamber. We stopped at Nazzari's for tea, met 
 Bibra at the door and invited him to come with us — 
 also Cornelie Zuylen,f who had seen us from the street 
 and rushed in to have a little talk. She is in Rome for 
 a few days — sight-seeing hard. We had tea and very 
 good cakes — and I was glad to have a few minutes before 
 dressing for the Calabrini dinner. 
 
 We started off again at 8, and had really a very pleas- 
 
 * N£e Lily Conrad. 
 
 t Now Madame Scheidecker.
 
 84 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 ant 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 Eng- 
 lish 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 dis- 
 trust of Louis Napoleon; how, until the very last mo- 
 ment 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 — as 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. 
 
 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
 
 Queen Margherita and King Humbert.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 85 
 
 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 uni- 
 forms. 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 pen- 
 dants. She was wearing for the first time her decora- 
 tion 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 For- 
 eign 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,
 
 86 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 and unexpectedly a sort of rond or opening with foun- 
 tains, 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 prom- 
 enade 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 al- 
 ways makes a gay note), lots of victorias and open car- 
 riages. The Prince of Naples (with the Royal red liv- 
 eries) 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 cu- 
 rious motley crowd — I don't think one would see it any- 
 where else. The clerical element is always well to the 
 fore, and in spite of the changes the Monarchy estab- 
 lished, 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 scat- 
 tered 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 ar- 
 riving about 10.30 found ourselves almost the first peo- 
 ple. 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
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 87 
 
 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 diploma- 
 tists. 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 dan- 
 cing (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 beauti- 
 fully 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, por- 
 ticoes, 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
 
 88 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 spent a morning there with Lanciani, and so could show 
 me what was still well enough preserved for me to under- 
 stand. 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 Cam- 
 pagna 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 don- 
 keys, 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 talk- 
 ing, laughing, and enjoying themselves. We stopped at
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 89 
 
 the British Embassy for tea. Lady Paget receives al- 
 ways 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 ad- 
 journed to the palier with Princess Sciarra and Coun- 
 tess Wimpffen, and we had a very pleasant hour. It was 
 amusing to see all the people coming up the broad stair- 
 case. 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 Vis- 
 conti, de Rossi, Lanciani, and some of the young men of 
 the Ecole Franchise. 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 morn- 
 ing* going into all sorts of churches whenever we saw 
 one open. There were always people, and in the smaller
 
 9 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 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, ar- 
 tists, 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 voriiber " (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 kiss- 
 ing the toe. It was certainly not solemn nor edifying, 
 except when we came upon a quiet corner, with some old
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 91 
 
 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. Peo- 
 ple kept pouring into the church, but it is so enormous 
 that, except at certain places, it was quite easy to circu- 
 late. 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 Mon- 
 signor 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 any- 
 thing 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
 
 02 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 serious and absorbed. They were principally peasants — 
 every now and then some well-dressed bourgeois. Mon- 
 signor 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 strug- 
 gling 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
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 93 
 
 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 move- 
 ment. A carriage came in behind us, and just as we were 
 going upstairs some one called my name. It was Bessie 
 Brancaccio, * 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 stand- 
 ing. We went through the usual ceremony. The Com- 
 tesse 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 
 
 * Princess Brancaccio, born Field.
 
 94 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 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 break- 
 ing 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 charm- 
 ing woman, in a pretty room with all sorts of beautiful 
 pictures and " bibelots " about. While we were still 
 there the Prince of Naples * 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 
 
 * The present King.
 
 Queen Margherita and the Prince of Naples (Present Kin.n of 
 Italy) in 1880.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 95 
 
 spoke about the Bunsens, and "little Beatrice";* 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. 
 
 We found Bessie and one or two other ladies in the 
 first salon when we came out, waiting their turn. Com- 
 tesse 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 writ- 
 ing table close up to the window, and I am afraid my cor- 
 respondence 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 
 
 * Now Mrs. Charles Loftus Townshend, of Castle Townshend, Ireland.
 
 96 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 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 im- 
 pression 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, some- 
 times 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 Gra- 
 vina 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
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 97 
 
 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 an- 
 swered 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. 
 
 After dinner Madame Cairoli came and sat down by 
 me, and was pleasant enough. She looked handsome — 
 very wide awake — still continues to call me Madame la 
 Comtesse, so I have given up correcting her. She is well 
 up on all subjects, particularly art, music, pictures, etc. 
 She was rather amusing over the state of society and all 
 the great Roman ladies whom she didn't know (there is 
 such a division between the Government people and the 
 old Romans) but said she had a very pleasant entourage 
 with all the diplomatists and the distinguished strangers 
 (with a little bow to me) and really didn't notice the 
 absence of the grandes dames. She asked me about 
 my audience with the Queen — had we been able to talk 
 to her at all. She had been so tired lately and nervous 
 that any attempt at conversation was an effort. I told 
 her that on the contrary she talked a great deal, and that 
 I didn't find her changed. 
 
 Maffei came up and talked — asked me if I really liked 
 Rome better as it used to be — I must surely prefer life 
 to stagnation. He speaks English well, and likes to 
 speak. They tell me that all the present generation of 
 Romans speak English perfectly — much better than
 
 9 8 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 French. There was a small reception after dinner, some 
 of the young diplomatists and political men. We came 
 away early — 10.30, and plunged into our Paris letters, of 
 which we found quantities. 
 
 Friday, April 2, 1880. 
 
 It is raining quite hard this morning, so I will write 
 and not go out until after breakfast. Yesterday was 
 beautiful, and we had a charming day at the races. I 
 drove out with Madame de Wimpffen in her victoria — W. 
 and Wimpffen together. I wore my brown cloth with 
 the coat trimmed with gold braid and a great bunch of 
 yellow roses on my hat, but I was sorry I hadn't sent for 
 something lighter, as almost all the women were in white. 
 I had thought of having two dresses sent by the " valise " 
 (I hadn't time to have them sent by ordinary express). 
 I consulted Noailles, who was very amiable, and said he 
 would do what he could, but that the rules were very 
 strict now for the " valise," as there had been such abuse. 
 I rather protested, so he remarked with a twinkle in his 
 eye that I had better speak to my husband, as he was the 
 Minister who had insisted on a reform being made — he 
 added that it was Princess Lise Troubetzkoi who made 
 the final scandal — that when St. Vallier was French Am- 
 bassador to Berlin she was always sending things to 
 Petersburg, via Berlin, by the " valise." When the " petit 
 paquet " she had spoken of turned out to be a grand piano 
 there was a row, and W., who was then Foreign Minister, 
 decreed that henceforth no " paquets " of any kind that 
 were not on official business could be sent by the " valise." 
 I suppose a pink tulle ball dress would hardly come under 
 that head. 
 
 The Queen was there looking very well and bright, 
 dressed in light grey with a big black hat — very becoming.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 99 
 
 There were a great many pretty women. We came away 
 before the end and drew up a little distance from the gate 
 where a long string of carriages was waiting to see the 
 Queen pass. The cortege was simple — first two dragoons, 
 then a " piqueur " and her carriage with four horses, 
 postillion and two servants behind in the scarlet liveries. 
 The Countess Marcello was seated alongside of the Queen 
 — two gentlemen (I couldn't make out who they were) 
 facing her; a second carriage with two horses with two 
 gentlemen in it followed, all very well turned out. The 
 scarlet liveries make a great effect, one sees them from 
 such a distance. The crowd was very respectful — not 
 particularly enthusiastic. The Queen bowed right and 
 left very prettily. I talked to lots of people at the races — 
 among others to Madame Alphonse Rothschild who is 
 here for a few days, and to Mesdames Somaglia, Rignano, 
 Celled, etc. I walked about a little with Sant' Asilea, but 
 it was not easy to move — most of the ladies stayed quietly 
 in the tribunes. We stopped at Nazzari's coming back 
 and W. treated us all to tea — then we sent our carriage 
 away as we wanted it at night for the Teano ball, and we 
 walked about in the Corso, looking at all the turn-outs. 
 The Teano four-in-hand was very handsome, and there 
 were one or two others we couldn't make out which were 
 very well turned out — some of the victorias, too, very 
 smart, with handsome stepping horses. The Corso was 
 full of people waiting to see the " retour " — it looked so 
 gay. About eleven we went off to the Teano ball, which 
 was most brilliant — all the societe there. Again I was 
 sorry I hadn't sent for another dress as my red satin 
 looked heavy and wintry. Princess Teano in white, with a 
 diamond tiara, looked charming. Of course all the young 
 generation who were dancing were strangers to me, but 
 I met many old friends. I had quite a talk with Doria
 
 IOO ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 who wanted to be introduced to W. whom he had not 
 yet seen. We stayed until 1.30, and when we came away 
 they were just beginning the cotillon. In the old days 
 we used to arrive at the balls about 12.30 or 1 o'clock just 
 so as to have one waltz before the cotillon which was 
 usually the best of the evening, as all the serious people 
 had gone, and the mammas were at supper fortifying 
 themselves for the long hours before them, so the ball- 
 room was comparatively empty and one could get a good 
 turn. 
 
 Saturday, April 3, 1880. 
 
 It is a beautiful morning, so was yesterday, an ideal 
 Roman day — the sky so blue and just a soft little air that 
 makes the awnings over the shops opposite flap lazily and 
 indisposes one to any exertion. We walked about a little 
 before breakfast, inspected the Fountain of Trevi where 
 Neptune sits in state, looking at the rush of water falling 
 over the rocks and splashing into the great marble basin. 
 The water is beautifully clear, and sparkled and glistened 
 in the sunlight. There were a good many people about — 
 girls with pitchers on their heads, old men and women 
 with pails and cans, all after water. The Trevi water is 
 considered the best in Rome and is in great demand. We 
 loitered about in the small narrow streets that branch off 
 in every direction, always seeing something interesting. 
 I think we lost our way as we found ourselves down by 
 Trajan's Column and Forum, but we managed to get back 
 to the Piazza di Spagna in good time for breakfast. 
 
 We started again in the afternoon for tea at the Farne- 
 sina Palace with the Duke di Ripalda. We stopped at 
 the Farnese Palace to pick up Madame de Noailles, who 
 was coming too, and we had a charming afternoon. 
 Ripalda took us all over the Palace, and W. was delighted
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 101 
 
 with the frescoes, particularly Sodoma's. The garden 
 was lovely, though they have cut off a great piece for their 
 quays and works along the river. They are enlarging 
 the Tiber, making great walls, etc. The City of Rome 
 gave Ripalda a large sum of money, but he is much dis- 
 gusted as it had taken a good bit off his garden. More 
 people came in — the wife of the Peruvian Minister, a 
 very pretty woman, and one or two men. We had tea 
 in the long gallery with all Raphael's and Carracci's beau- 
 tiful gods and cupids over our heads. How many dif- 
 ferent scenes they must have looked down on — not always 
 so peaceful as this quiet party. 
 
 Saturday evening, April 3, 1880, 10 p.m. 
 
 We went to the German Embassy on our way home to 
 write ourselves down for the German Crown Princess, 
 who had just arrived there for a short stay. I hope I 
 shall see her — W. admires her so much. He saw her 
 often when he was in Berlin for the Congress, and found 
 her most sympathetic and charming. Turkam Bey came 
 in just before dinner and had a great deal to say about 
 the Khedive, and what France would have done if he had 
 resisted, retired up the country, and obliged the French 
 and English to depose him by force. It was evident that 
 the suite had been talking to him, and talking very big — 
 he was very anxious to have a categorical answer. W. 
 said very quietly they had never considered that emer- 
 gency, as it was quite evident from the beginning that 
 the Khedive had no intention of resisting. " Cependant, 
 monsieur, s'il avait voulu," etc., so W. could only repeat 
 the same thing — that they had never been anxious on that 
 point. 
 
 We dined quietly at home, and in the course of the 
 evening there came a note from Keudell, the German
 
 102 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 Ambassador (whom we don't either of us know), saying 
 that " par ordre de Son Altesse Imperiale la Princesse 
 Hereditaire d'Allemagne " he had the honour to ask M. 
 and Madame Waddington to dine to-day at 7.30 at the 
 Embassy " en petit comite." We should find a small party 
 — the Wimpffens and Pagets. The Princess only arrived 
 on Thursday, and W. is much pleased that she should 
 have thought of us at once. Keudell has been ill with 
 gout ever since we have been here. We have never once 
 seen him, but various people told W. he regretted so much 
 not seeing him, that the other day we tried to find him, 
 but the porter said he was still in his room. 
 
 Sunday, April 4, 1880. 
 Our dinner was charming. I was not a bit disap- 
 pointed in the Princess. W. had talked so much about 
 her that I had rather made up my mind I should find her 
 very formal and German — and she isn't either one or the 
 other. We left a little after seven (I wearing black satin). 
 I am so bored with always wearing the same dresses. If 
 I had had any idea we should go out every night I should 
 have brought much more, but W. spoke of " a nice quiet 
 month in Rome, sight-seeing and resting." We were the 
 first to arrive. Keudell was at the door, introduced him- 
 self, and took us into the large salon, where Madame Keu- 
 dell was waiting. She looked slight and rather delicate, 
 and he really ill, so very white. He said he had had a 
 long, sharp attack of gout — had not been out for some 
 time, and was in the salon for the first time the day the 
 Princess arrived. While we were waiting for the others 
 to come he showed us the rooms and pictures. I recog- 
 nised at once one of those pretty child's heads by Otto 
 Brandt like the one we have. He was much interested in 
 knowing that we had bought one so long ago, he thought
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 103 
 
 Brandt had so much talent. There was a grand piano, 
 of course, as he is a fine musician. The Pagets and 
 Wimpffens came together almost, and as soon as they 
 were there the Princess came in. She had one lady with 
 her and a " chambellan " — Count Seckendorfr. She was 
 dressed in black, with a handsome string of pearls. She 
 is short, and rather stout, carries herself very well and 
 moves gracefully. We all made low curtseys — the men 
 kissed her hand, Sir Augustus Paget just touching the 
 floor with his knee, the first time I had seen a man kneel 
 to any one in a salon. She received W. most charmingly, 
 and was very gracious to me — asked me at once why I 
 didn't accompany my husband to Berlin. I said, " Prin- 
 cipally because he didn't want me," which was perfectly 
 true. He said when he was named Plenipotentiary that 
 it was all new ground to him, that he would have plenty 
 to do, and didn't want to have a woman to look after. 
 He rather protests now, but that is really what he said, 
 and I certainly didn't go. The dinner was pleasant 
 enough. The Princess talked a great deal, and as the 
 party was small, general conversation was quite easy. 
 The talk was all in French, which really was very amiable 
 for us — we were the only foreigners present, and naturally 
 if we hadn't been there every one would have spoken 
 German. After dinner she made a short " cercle," stand- 
 ing in the middle of the room, all of us around her, then 
 made a sign to W. to come and talk to her, sat down on 
 the big sofa, he on a chair next, and they talked for about 
 half an hour. We all remained standing. I asked 
 Keudell about his piano. He told me that he liked the 
 Erard grand very much, but that they didn't stand trav- 
 elling well. In a few moments the Princess told us all 
 to sit down, particularly Keudell, who looked quite white 
 and exhausted. I sat by Madame Keudell, and as she is
 
 104 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 very fond of Italy, and Rome in particular, we got on 
 very well. When the Princess had finished her talk with 
 W. she came over and sat down by me — was most charm- 
 ing and easy. She has the Queen's beautiful smile, and 
 such an expressive face. We spoke English ; she asked 
 me if I had become very French (I wonder?) — that she 
 had always heard American women were so adaptable, 
 taking at once their husband's nationality when they mar- 
 ried foreigners. She had always remained very fond of 
 England and English ways — the etiquette and formality 
 of the German Court had tried her at first. She asked 
 me, of course, how many children I had — said one was 
 not enough. "If anything should happen to him, what 
 would your life be? " and then spoke a great deal about 
 the son she lost last summer by diphtheria, said he was 
 the most promising of all her children, and she sometimes 
 thought she never could be resigned. I said that her life 
 was necessarily so full, she had so many obligations of 
 all kinds, had so many to think about, that she would be 
 taken out of herself. " Ah, yes, there is much to do, 
 and one can't sit down with one's sorrow, but the mother 
 who has lost her child carries a heavy heart all her life." 
 It was all so simply said — so womanly. She said she 
 was very glad to meet W. again, thought he looked very 
 well — was sure the change and rest were doing him good. 
 She regretted his departure from the Quai d'Orsay and 
 public life generally. I told her he was still a Senator, 
 and always interested in politics. I didn't think a few 
 months' absence at this time would affect his political 
 career much, and that he found so much to interest him 
 that he really didn't miss the busy, agitated life he had 
 been leading for so long. She said she intended to spend 
 a quiet fortnight here as a tourist, seeing all she could. 
 She then talked to all the other ladies, and about ten said
 
 Victoria, Crown Princess of Germany.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 105 
 
 she was tired and would go to her own rooms. She shook 
 hands with the ladies, the men kissed her hand, and when 
 she got to the door she turned and made a very pretty 
 curtsey to us all. We stayed on about a quarter of an 
 hour. 
 
 The Wimpffens have arranged a dinner for her on 
 Thursday (to which she said she would like to have us 
 invited), just the same party with the addition of the 
 Minghettis. As we were going on to Madame Minghetti's 
 reception, Countess Wimpfren asked us to tell them to 
 keep themselves disengaged for Thursday, as she wanted 
 them for dinner to meet the Princess — she would write, 
 of course, but sent the message to gain time. They 
 brought in tea and orangeade, and I talked a little to 
 Count Seckendorff — he speaks English as well as I do. 
 He told me the Princess was quite pleased when she heard 
 W. was here, and hoped to see him often. We hadn't 
 the courage to stay any longer — poor Keudell looked 
 ready to drop — and started off to the Minghettis'. 
 
 It was a beautiful, bright night, and the Capitol and all 
 its surroundings looked gigantic, Marcus Aurelius on his 
 big bronz horse standing out splendidly. We found a 
 large party at Madame Minghetti's — principally political 
 — not many women, but I should think every man in 
 Rome. Alfieri, Visconti Venosta, Massari, Bonghi, Sella, 
 Teano, etc. It was evidently a " centre " for the intelli- 
 gent, serious men of all parties. There was quite a buzz, 
 almost a noise, of talking as we came in — rather curious, 
 every one seemed to be talking hard, almost like a meeting 
 of some kind. They were all talking about the English 
 elections, which apparently are going dead against the 
 Ministry. Minghetti said it was quite their own fault — a 
 cabinet that couldn't control the elections was not fit to 
 live. Of course their time was over — there was no use in
 
 106 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 even attempting a fight — they had quite lost their hold on 
 the country. Madame Minghetti seems as keen about pol- 
 itics as her husband. She has many friends in England. 
 I told her about the Wimpffen dinner — they will go, of 
 course. She asked a great deal about the Princess — said 
 she was very glad she had decided to come to Rome, that 
 she couldn't help being interested and distracted here, 
 which she needed, as she was so upset by her son's death. 
 We talked music — she sings very well — and we agreed 
 to sing together some afternoon, perhaps at the German 
 Embassy, as Keudell is a beautiful musician and loves to 
 accompany. 
 
 Mrs. Bruce was there and I sat down by her a little 
 while, looking at the people. She pointed out various 
 political swells, and a nice young Englishman (whose 
 name I didn't catch) joined us, saying he wished he un- 
 derstood Italian, as it was evident the group of men 
 around Minghetti was discussing English politics, and he 
 would so like to know what they were saying. Mrs. 
 Bruce told him it was just as well he didn't understand, 
 as, from the echoes that came to her, she didn't believe it 
 was altogether complimentary to John Bull. I don't be- 
 lieve political men of any nationality ever approve any 
 ministry. It seems to me that as soon as a man becomes 
 a cabinet minister, or prominent in any way, he is in- 
 stantly attacked on all sides. 
 
 We didn't stay very long, as we had promised to go 
 for a few moments to the Farnese Palace, where the 
 Noailles had also a reception. I had some difficulty in 
 extracting W. from the group of men. He naturally was 
 much interested in all the talk, and as almost all the men 
 were, or had been ministers, their criticisms were most 
 lively. They appealed to him every now and then, he 
 having been so lately in the fray himself, and he was a
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 107 
 
 funny contrast with his quiet voice and manner to the 
 animated group of Italians, all talking at once, and as 
 much with their hands as with their tongues. 
 
 It was very late — after eleven — but we thought we 
 would try for the Noailles, and there were still many car- 
 riages at the door when we drove up. We met so many 
 people coming away, on the stairs and in the long ante- 
 room, that it didn't seem possible there could be any one 
 left, but the rooms were quite full still. The palace 
 looked regal — all lighted — and there were enough people 
 to take away the bare look that the rooms usually have. 
 They are very large, very high, and scarcely any furni- 
 ture (being only used for big receptions), so unless there 
 are a great many people there is a look of emptiness, which 
 would be difficult to prevent. Madame de Noailles was 
 no longer at the door, but I found her seated in the end 
 room with a little group of ladies, all smoking cigarettes, 
 and we had an agreeable half hour. Madame Visconti 
 Venosta was there, and another lady who was presented to 
 me — Madame Pannissera, wife of one of the " grand- 
 maitres de ceremonie " at court. W. was at once ab- 
 sorbed into the circle of men, also talking politics, English 
 elections, etc., but he was ready to come away when I 
 made the move. Noailles insisted upon taking me to the 
 buffet, though I told him I had done nothing but eat and 
 drink since 7.30 (with a little conversation thrown in). 
 It was rather amusing walking through the rooms and 
 seeing all the people, but at 12.30 I struck. I really was 
 incapable of another remark of any kind. 
 
 I will finish this very long letter to-day. I wonder if 
 you will ever have patience to read it. I am sure I 
 shouldn't if it were written to me. I hope I shall remem- 
 ber all the things I want to tell when we get back — so 
 much that one can't write. My black satin was right —
 
 108 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 the Princess was in mourning, the other ladies equally in 
 black. W. wants me to be photographed in the black 
 dress and long veil I wore at the Pope's audience. He 
 found it very becoming, and thinks Francis ought to have 
 one ; but it is so difficult to find time for anything. 
 
 Saturday, April 10, 1880. 
 
 We had a nice musical evening the other night at 
 Gert's. All the vieille garde turned up, Vera, Mala- 
 testa, del Monte (with his violoncello), and Grant. We 
 sang all the evening, and enjoyed ourselves immensely. 
 I was sorry Edith Peruzzi couldn't come, as she sings so 
 well, and it would have been nice to have another lady. 
 She has been nursing her mother, who has been ill (so ill 
 that they sent for Edith to come from Florence) , but she 
 is getting all right now, and I don't think Edith will stay 
 much longer. Charles de Bunsen has arrived for a few 
 days. We took for him a room at our hotel, and we have 
 been doing all manner of sight-seeing. Thursday morn- 
 ing we went to the Accademia of San Luca, where we had 
 not yet been. It was rather interesting, but there is much 
 less to see than in the other galleries. There are some 
 good busts and modern pictures — a pretty Greuze. 
 
 Our dinner at the Wimpffens' was very pleasant. We 
 arrived very punctually at 7.20 and found the Keudells 
 already there. He told us the Princess was very tired, 
 she had been all day in the galleries standing, looking at 
 pictures, and he didn't think she would stay late. He 
 still looked very tired and pale, but said he was much 
 better and that the royal visit did not tire him at all. The 
 Princess was very considerate and went about quite sim- 
 ply with her lady and Count SeckendorfY. The other 
 guests arrived almost immediately — the Pagets, Min- 
 ghettis, Gosselins of the British Embassy, and Mafrei,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 109 
 
 Under-Secretary of the Foreign Office. About a quarter 
 to eight the Princess arrived with her lady and chamber- 
 lain, she was dressed in black, with a long string of 
 pearls. We went at once to dinner (which was announced 
 as she entered the room), Wimpffen of course taking the 
 Princess, who had Minghetti on her other side. Sir 
 Augustus Paget took me, and I had Gosselin on the other 
 side. W. sat next Countess Wimpffen. The talk was easy 
 and animated, quite like the other day at the Palazzo Caf- 
 farelli (German Embassy). The Princess talked a great 
 deal to Minghetti, principally art, old Rome, pictures, etc. 
 — she herself draws and paints very well. After dinner 
 she sat down at once (said she didn't usually mind stand- 
 ing, but the long days in the galleries tried her), made us 
 all sit down, and for about half an hour she was most 
 charming, talking about all sorts of things, and keeping 
 the conversation general. When she had had enough of 
 female conversation she said something in a low tone 
 to Lady Paget, who got up, crossed the room to where 
 W. was standing, and told him the Princess wished to 
 speak to him. He came at once, of course — she made 
 him sit down, and they talked for a long time. She 
 is naturally a Protestant, but very liberal, and quite 
 open to new ideas. She was much interested in French 
 Protestants — had always heard they were very strict, 
 very narrow-minded, in fact, rather Calvinistic. She 
 kept W. until she went away, early — about ten — as she 
 was tired. She has an extraordinary charm of manner. 
 Her way of taking leave of us was so pretty and gracious. 
 She dines quietly at the British Embassy to-morrow 
 night, and when Lady Paget asked her who she would 
 have, said : " Cardinal Howard and Mr. Story." She 
 wants to see all manner of men. 
 
 Yesterday we made our first excursion to Frascati, and
 
 HO ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 most unpleasant it was. We had chosen our day so as to 
 have Charles Bunsen with us, and one also when we had 
 nothing in the evening, as one is so tired after being out 
 all day. We started about 9 — in the carriage — W. and 
 I, Gert and Charles. It looked grey (was perfectly 
 mild) and rather threatening, but the hotel man and 
 coachman assured us we should have no rain — merely a 
 covered day which would be more agreeable than the 
 bright sun. Schuyler promised to come out by train for 
 breakfast. The drive out was delicious, out of the Porta 
 San Giovanni, the whole road lined with tombs, arches, 
 ruined villas, always the aqueducts on one side, and the 
 blue hills directly in front of us. The sun came out oc- 
 casionally through little bits of white clouds, and the 
 Campagna looked enchanting, almost alive. We passed 
 close to the Osteria del Pino — where the meet used to be 
 often in old hunting days. It was so familiar as we 
 drove up the steep hill and recognised all the well-known 
 places — the Pallavicini villa at the side of the road, half- 
 way up the hill ; the Torlonia gardens, and the gateway 
 of the funny little town. We went straight to the hotel, 
 the same one as in our day, Albergo di Londra (that 
 shows what a haunt of " forestieri " it is), ordered break- 
 fast, and then sallied out for a walk. 
 
 The little piazza before the hotel was filled with don- 
 keys and boys, all clamouring to us to have a ride, ex- 
 patiating on the merits of their beasts, and making a per- 
 fect uproar. We explained to the porter that we wanted 
 beasts of some description to go up to Tusculum, and he 
 said he would arrange it for us. However, the boys 
 pursued us to the gate, dragging their donkeys after them. 
 We went first to the Palazzo Marconi, which is just out- 
 side the gates opposite the Torlonia villa. I wanted so 
 much to see the old house again, it was inhabited by a
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE in 
 
 Russian family, and at first there seemed some little diffi- 
 culty about getting in, but W. sent in his card, and after 
 a little parley a servant appeared and took us all over the 
 house, except the dining-room where the family were 
 breakfasting. It looks exactly the same — only much 
 more neglected and uninhabited. The broken steps 
 were more broken, the bright paint more faded, and 
 the look of discomfort much accentuated. I showed 
 W. the room where father died. It looked much more 
 bare and empty, but the pink walls were still there, and 
 the door open giving on the terrace. How it brought 
 back those long, hot nights when we tried to hope — 
 knowing quite well there was no chance — but never dar- 
 ing to put the fear into words. W. was much struck by 
 the lonely, desolate look of the whole place. The little 
 salon which we had made so comfortable with tables, 
 rugs, and arm-chairs brought from Rome, looked per- 
 fectly bare — no furniture except one or two red velvet 
 benches close to the wall, and rather an ugly marble table 
 with nothing on it. The big round salon with its colos- 
 sal statues in their marble niches and the marble benches, 
 was exactly the same — only no piano. We went through 
 the bed-rooms at the other end (our three), the marble 
 bath still in the middle one, which used to be Henrietta's, 
 but there was no trace of occupation, neither beds, wash- 
 ing apparatus, tables, nor chairs. I suppose the " loca- 
 taires " live in the two rooms at the other end. There 
 wasn't much furniture there, but I did see some beds. 
 We went out into the little raised garden behind the big 
 statue, but it was a wild waste of straggling vines and 
 weeds. It was rather sad — nothing changed and yet so 
 different. 
 
 I explained our life to W. — our morning or evening 
 rides, our music, which was enchanting in the big salon
 
 112 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 — so mysterious, just a little glow of light around the 
 piano and other instruments, and the rest of the great 
 room almost dark, the white statues looking so huge and 
 grim in the half light. I was rather nervous the first 
 nights out here when I had to cross that room to go to 
 mine with a very small Roman lamp in my hand — but I 
 soon got accustomed to my surroundings, and it seemed 
 quite natural to live our daily, modern life in that mi- 
 lieu of frescoes, marble statues, hanging gardens, and 
 strangers. I tried to find some little flower in the mass of 
 weeds in the garden, but there wasn't one, so I send these 
 periwinkles and anemones picked in the Villa Torlonia, 
 where we walked about for some time under the splendid 
 old ilex trees. 
 
 Breakfast, a fairly good one, was ready when we got 
 back to the hotel, but no Schuyler. I think he was a 
 wise man and foresaw what was going to happen. Quite 
 a number of strangers had come out by train — all Eng- 
 lish and American, no one we knew — and the table-d'hote 
 was quite full. As soon as the gentlemen had had their 
 coffee, about 1.30, we started for Tusculum, Gert and I 
 on donkeys with two pretty, chattering Italian boys at 
 their heads — Bunsen on a stout little mountain pony, and 
 W. on foot. He wouldn't hear of a donkey, and pre- 
 ferred to walk with the guide. We climbed up the steep 
 little path, between high walls at first, then opening out 
 on the hillside to the amphitheatre, which we saw quite 
 well. The arena and seats are very well preserved. 
 There are still rows of steps, slippery and green with 
 moss. We went on again toward Cicero's Villa, and for 
 a moment the clouds cleared a little, and we saw what the 
 view might be straight over the Campagna to Rome 
 (the dome of St. Peter's just standing out — on one side 
 the hills with the little villages where we have ridden so
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 113 
 
 often, Monte Compatri, Monte Porzio, the Campi d'An- 
 nibale and Monastery of Monte Cave in the distance). 
 I wonder if the old monk would tell us to-day what one 
 did years ago, when we were standing on the terrace 
 looking at the magnificent view : " Quando fa bel tempo 
 si pud vedere le montagne d'America " (When it is fine 
 one can see the mountains of America). I thought it 
 was rather pretty, his eagerness to make us understand 
 what an extended view one had from his mountain top, 
 and he probably didn't know where America was. How- 
 ever, our little gleam of sunlight didn't last — first came 
 big drops, then a regular downpour, and in a few min- 
 utes a thick white mist closed around us, shutting out 
 everything. We took refuge for a few moments under 
 a sort of ruined portico, but the rain came down harder, 
 and we decided to give up Cicero's Villa, and turn our 
 faces homeward. 
 
 The descent was neither easy nor pleasant — a steep lit- 
 tle path with the donkeys slipping and stumbling, and the 
 rain falling in buckets. I was wet through in ten min- 
 utes, as I was very lightly dressed in a white shirt and 
 foulard skirt (having stupidly left my jacket at the hotel 
 as it was very warm when we started). Gert was better 
 off, as she had her tweed dress. I shan't soon forget that 
 descent, and as we passed Mondragone — the Borghese 
 Palace — we had thunder and lightning, which didn't 
 add to my comfort — however, the donkeys didn't mind. 
 I was wet to the skin when we arrived at the hotel, and 
 had to undress entirely and go to bed wrapped up in a 
 blanket. The chambermaid lighted a fire in the room, 
 and she and Gert dried my clothes as well as they could, 
 and I had a cup of hot tea. About 5 my things were 
 fairly dry — Gert went shopping in the town, and bought 
 me a piece of flannel which I put on under my corsage
 
 ii4 ITALIAN LETTERS [apr«. 
 
 which was still damp. It rained a little when we started 
 home, but cleared about half-way, and we had the most 
 glorious sunset. 
 
 It was too bad to have fallen upon such a day, and I 
 am afraid we shan't have time to attempt it again. I 
 was half tempted to stay at Frascati all night and try 
 again the next morning, but the others thought it better 
 to come home. I went to bed immediately after dinner, 
 and feel quite well to-day — only a little stiff — the com- 
 bined effect of the donkey and the damp. 
 
 April ii, 1880. 
 
 Yesterday it rained hard all day, there was quite a lit- 
 tle stream of water in the Piazza coming down from the 
 Pincio. Certainly Rome needs sunshine, everything 
 looked forlorn and colourless and everybody so depressed. 
 The Spanish Steps were quite deserted, no models nor 
 children galloping up and down. The coachmen of the 
 fiacre-stand on the Piazza dripping and dejected on their 
 boxes — nobody wanting carriages and very few people 
 about. I really believe the Romans stay in when it rains. 
 We didn't, of course, as our time is getting short, and the 
 galleries are always a resource. We went off about 10 
 to the Vatican and spent two hours there. Charles de 
 Bunsen was very glad to see it all again. We went first 
 to the Cappella Paolina where there was not much to see 
 — some frescoes of Michelangelo's, not very well pre- 
 served. It used to be so beautiful, Holy Week in Rome, 
 when we were here before, brilliantly lighted for a silent 
 adoration and filled with people kneeling and motionless. 
 
 Then we went on to the Cappella Sistina where there 
 were a good many people taking advantage of a rainy 
 day to do the Vatican. It wasn't at all dark — I don't 
 know exactly why, for the rain was pouring straight
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 115 
 
 down. The Last Judgment is an awful picture. I 
 had forgotten Charon and his boat and the agonized faces 
 of the people whom he is knocking back with his oar. 
 Some of the faces were too terrible, such despair and suf- 
 fering. I can't think why any artist ever chooses such 
 subjects, one would think they would be haunted by their 
 own conceptions. 
 
 We walked through the Stanze, I wanted to see the 
 Deliverance of St. Peter ; I remember so well the engrav- 
 ing that was in the dining-room at Bond Street, which 
 I have sat opposite to so often. I used to be fascinated 
 as a child with the Roman soldiers, particularly the one 
 with a torch. We sauntered through the picture gallery 
 looking at the beautiful Foligno Madonna, Communion 
 of St. Jerome, and of course the Marriage of St. Cath- 
 erine, and really my copy by the young German is good 
 as I see the original again. We finished in the Galerie 
 des Inscriptions where W. always finds odd bits of in- 
 scriptions which are wildly interesting to him. I think 
 for the moment yellow-books and interpellations and 
 the " peuple souverain " generally as represented in the 
 Chambre des Deputes are out of his head. 
 
 The sun came out bright and warm in the afternoon 
 and we drove to the Villa Pamphili. We stopped at San 
 Pietro in Montorio on our way. It is there that St. Peter 
 is said to have been crucified. The view from the ter- 
 race is very fine — the whole of Rome at our feet stretch- 
 ing out over the Campagna to the Alban Hills. It was 
 too early really for the view, as one ought to see it at 
 sunset, when the hills take most beautiful rose blue tints 
 and the Campagna looks vague and mysterious, not the 
 long barren stretch of waste uncultivated land it is in 
 the daylight. 
 
 We stopped again at the Fontana Paolina, looked at
 
 Il6 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 the rush of water that tumbles into the stone basin, and 
 climbed up the Janiculum, every turn of the road giving 
 the most enchanting view, out of the Porta San Pancra- 
 zio to the Villa Pamphili — all Rome apparently was 
 doing the same thing ; there were quantities of carriages. 
 It was charming in the Villa — many people had got out 
 of their carriages and were walking about in the shady 
 alleys. It was a relief to get out of the sun. The stone 
 pines of course are magnificent, but I think I like them 
 best from a distance — from the terrace of the Villa 
 Medici for instance they stand out splendidly. What is 
 grand is the view of St. Peter's. It seems to stand alone 
 as if there were no Rome anywhere near it. The dome 
 rises straight up above the green of Monte Mario, and 
 looks enormous. 
 
 We walked about the gardens with the queer, old-fash- 
 ioned flower-beds and the little lake with a mosaic pattern 
 at the bottom, and talked to quantities of people. The 
 drive down was enchanting; the sun setting, clouds of 
 every colour imaginable and a sort of soft " brume " that 
 made every dirty little street (and there are many in 
 Rome) look picturesque. 
 
 We went to the ball at the British Embassy in the 
 evening, taking Charles de Bunsen, who protested at first 
 he didn't go to balls any more, etc., but he found plenty 
 of old friends and was very glad he had gone. The 
 house looked very handsome — the ball-room with its 
 decoration of flowers, cupids, etc., had a decidedly festive 
 appearance. I danced two quadrilles — one with Count 
 d'Aulnay and the other with the Duke of Leuchtenberg 
 who was here with his wife, Comtesse de Beauharnais. 
 As it is a morganatic marriage (he is a Royal Prince) 
 she can't take his name and title. She was beautifully 
 dressed, had splendid jewels — pearls as big as eggs.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 117 
 
 The ball was very gay, lots of people. We stayed quite 
 late; went to supper, which W. generally refuses with 
 scorn, and only left at 1.30. They were preparing for 
 the cotillon, but were going to dance a " tempete " (what- 
 ever that may be) first. I hear they danced until 4 
 o'clock. 
 
 Thursday, 12 th 
 We had a nice dinner at the Villa Medici Tuesday 
 night. The Director M. Cabat, his wife and daughter, 
 M. and Madame Geoffroy and 5 or 6 of the young men. 
 They all love Rome and say it is a paradise for an artist. 
 Such beautiful models of all kinds in the old pictures and 
 statues. I ventured to say that I thought one or two of 
 the modern Roman things — fountains and statues — were 
 pretty, but I was instantly sat upon by the whole party — 
 " no originality ; no strength, weak imitations of great 
 conceptions, etc." I suppose one's taste and judgment 
 do get formed looking at splendid models all the time; 
 still the world of art must go on and there is no reason 
 why the present generation shouldn't have graceful fan- 
 cies, and power to carry out their dreams. We didn't 
 stay very late and went on to Countess Somaglia, who 
 was receiving. There were only two or three ladies. Her 
 younger sister, Olympia Doria, married to a Colonna, 
 the Marquise Sant' Asilea and two others I didn't know. 
 Quantities of men came in and out, Calabrini, Vitelleschi, 
 Minghetti. The " maitre de maison " was not there. I 
 was sorry, as I had never seen him. Lucchesi-Palli came 
 up and claimed acquaintance — said he had danced at Casa 
 Pierret in the old days. I introduced him to W. who was 
 rather interested at meeting a half brother of the Comte 
 de Chambord. He is much astonished at the quantity 
 of people I know, but I told him one couldn't live years
 
 n8 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 in Rome without seeing almost every one worth knowing, 
 as everybody comes to Rome. 
 
 Yesterday Gert and I went out together. W. had an 
 expedition of some kind with de Rossi, and gave a din- 
 ner at the Falcone to Charles and some of his men 
 friends. The Roman menu didn't tempt me. I heard 
 them talking about porcupines and peacocks. I pre- 
 ferred dining with Gert — she asked Mrs. Van Rensselaer, 
 and we had a pleasant evening. Mrs. V. R. is clever and 
 original, very amusing over her Italian and the extraor- 
 dinary mistakes that she knows she makes, but she keeps 
 on talking all the same. It is curious how much colder 
 Gert's apartment is than our rooms at the hotel — I sup- 
 pose no sun ever gets into that narrow street, and one is 
 quite struck with the cold the minute one gets into the 
 palace and on the stone staircase. We had a little fire 
 and it wasn't at all too much — of course in the Piazza di 
 Spagna the sun streams into the rooms all day. I came 
 home early — about 10 — and found the two gentlemen, 
 Charles and W., settled very comfortably each in a large 
 arm-chair with pipe and newspaper (you can imagine the 
 atmosphere in a small hotel sitting-room). They said their 
 dinner was very good, even the ordinary Roman wine, 
 but they both agreed they wouldn't care to have that 
 menu every day. The talk was very interesting; some 
 of the men had been in Italy years ago, before the days 
 of railways or modern conveniences of any kind, and their 
 experiences in some of t^e little towns near Rome were 
 most amusing — most of the peasants so mistrustful of 
 the artist baggage, white umbrella, camp-stool, etc., and 
 so anxious, when they finally understood no harm was 
 intended, that they should sketch a nice new house or a 
 bit of wall freshly plastered instead of old gateways and 
 tumble-down palaces.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 119 
 
 Charles is going back to Florence to-morrow ; I think 
 he has enjoyed his visit very much, it brought back so 
 many recollections (he was born in Rome and spent all 
 his early childhood there).* 
 
 I wish they would settle in Rome instead of Florence, 
 the life is so much more interesting here. Florence is 
 charming, but asleep — here there is life, and the contrast 
 between the old patrician city full of old-world memories 
 and prejudices, and the political, financial atmosphere of 
 this 19th century is most striking. W. has decided to 
 go to Naples for four or five days. I shan't go with him. 
 He will be all day in the museums, as there is a great 
 deal to see, and I should bore myself sitting alone in the 
 hotel. If we could stay long enough to make some ex- 
 cursions — see Sorrento, Capri, and Ischia, I would not 
 hesitate, I should love to see it all again. They say 
 Vesuvius is giving signs of a disturbance. 
 
 As we were talking about Capri and Vesuvius I told 
 them my experience there so many years ago, and both 
 gentlemen told me I ought to write it while it was still 
 fresh in my memory, so here it is and you will send the 
 letter to the family in America. 
 
 We went to Naples in October, 1867. Father died at 
 Frascati the 27th of September, and we all needed change 
 after the long nursing and watching. All our friends in 
 Rome were most anxious we should get off ; affairs were 
 rapidly coming to a crisis in Italy and it was evident that 
 the days of the temporal power of the Pope were num- 
 bered. At any moment the Italians under Garibaldi 
 
 * His father, Baron de Bunsen, was for years Prussian Minister at Rome, 
 a most intellectual, distinguished man ; after Rome he was for many years 
 Minister in England, and their house in Carlton Terrace was the rendezvous 
 of all that was most brilliant and cosmopolitan in London. He married 
 Miss Waddington, and his son Charles also married Miss Waddington, sister 
 of William Waddington.
 
 120 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 might appear at the gates of Rome and it was not con- 
 sidered safe for women and foreigners to remain there. 
 No one thought or talked of anything else, and though we 
 were absorbed by father's illness and the numerous 
 duties that a sick room entails we were quite as excited 
 as all our friends. Of course we heard the two sides — 
 the liberals who had high hopes of liberty and " Italia 
 Unita " and the " papalini " who were convinced that the 
 Italians would only enter Rome over the bodies of the 
 faithful. Our young imaginations pictured anything, 
 everything; the Garibaldians penetrating quite to the 
 Court of the Vatican, the Swiss Guard, Charette and his 
 Zouaves, massacred ; priests flying in every direction pur- 
 sued by a crowd of soldiers and infuriated populace. 
 Good old Dr. Valery, who knew his countrymen better 
 than we did, assured us there was no danger. When re- 
 sistance was perfectly useless it would be wicked to shed 
 blood, and Pio Nono himself would be the first to advise 
 submission to the inevitable. We couldn't believe that 
 such a tremendous change and uprooting of the tradi- 
 tions of centuries could be accomplished so quietly. We 
 stayed two days only in Rome after leaving Frascati. 
 We laid father at rest in the little English churchyard 
 just by the San Paolo gate. There was a mortuary 
 chapel where he could stay till he was taken home to the 
 old family churchyard at Jamaica where Grandpapa King 
 and a long line of children and grandchildren are buried. 
 We had to see about our mourning and were finally 
 hustled out of Rome the third day, Mr. Hooker (the 
 American banker) , our great friend, fairly standing over 
 us while the trunks were being packed. He was quite 
 right. We took the last train that went through to 
 Naples, carrying with us a number of letters which our 
 liberal friends had asked us to mail as soon as we crossed
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 121 
 
 the frontier, — they naturally being unwilling to trust 
 them to the Roman post-office. Rome looked deserted, 
 very few people about, some of the shops and hotels still 
 closed, but one felt a suppressed excitement in the air. 
 Some of our friends, jubilant, came to see us off at " Ter- 
 mine " and promised to send us a telegram at Naples if 
 anything happened.- Mr. Hooker was rather anxious. 
 He too thought the Papal court wouldn't make any resist- 
 ance if the Italians came, or rather when the Italians came, 
 as they were marching on Rome; but he thought there 
 might be trouble in the streets. He had his large Ameri- 
 can flag ready to protect the bank. We of course made 
 our journey very quietly and comfortably, as Garibaldi 
 and his men were not on that road. I was rather disap- 
 pointed, I should have liked to have had a glimpse of the 
 famous revolutionary leader in his classic red shirt. We 
 found Naples just the same, very full, people everywhere, 
 in the Via Toledo, on the quays, etc. There wasn't much 
 apparent excitement, all the red-capped, bare-legged fish- 
 ermen were lounging about on the quays or in the num- 
 berless little boats of all descriptions flying about in every 
 direction. The same songs, " Julia Gentil," " La Luis- 
 sella," " La Bella Sorrentina," were sung under our win- 
 dows every night with an accompaniment of mandolins 
 and a sort of tambourine. From time to time the voices 
 would cease and then there would be a most lively dance 
 — tarantella, saltarella — all the dancers moving lightly 
 and quickly and always in perfect time. The nights were 
 beautiful — warm and clear — the whole population lived in 
 the streets and we were always on the balcony. The isl- 
 ands, Ischia and Capri, took such beautiful colours, at 
 sunset ; seemed almost like painted islands rising straight 
 up out of a perfectly blue sea. Vesuvius, too, was most 
 interesting. Savants were prophesying an eruption and
 
 122 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 every now and then faint, very faint curls of smoke came 
 out of the crater. We knew nothing of what was go- 
 ing on ; had no communication with Rome, and were en- 
 tirely dependent for news on the landlord, whose infor- 
 mation was certainly fantastic; also the little Naples 
 paper, the " Pungolo," which made marvellous state- 
 ments every morning — the streets of Rome running 
 with blood, etc. Finally came the first news — the battle 
 of " Monte Rotondo," Garibaldi and his men victorious. 
 From Paris we heard that the French troops had started 
 and were at Civita Vecchia, but there were so many con- 
 flicting stories that we really didn't know how much to 
 believe. Then came Mentana — the Garibaldians driven 
 back by the Papal and French troops; the Pope still 
 supreme in Rome. We had a telegram from one of our 
 liberal friends, " Le malade va bien," which meant that 
 the Pope had conquered, and Rome was not yet the 
 capital of " Italia Unita." There was no fighting at 
 all in the streets of Rome; a great deal of patriotic talk 
 among the young liberals, but I don't think any of them 
 absolutely enrolled themselves in Garibaldi's band. It 
 wouldn't have made any difference — they could do noth- 
 ing against the combined Papal and French troops — but 
 it might have been a personal satisfaction to have struck 
 a blow for the liberal cause. There again the common 
 sense of the Italians showed itself — there was no resist- 
 ing " le fait accompli," they had only to bide their time. 
 We had lovely days at Naples, making all sorts of ex- 
 cursions — Posilippo, Capo di Monte, Camaldoli, etc. 
 Every morning we went to the Museum ; I was madly in- 
 terested in the Pompeian relics, particularly the mum- 
 mies. It seemed impossible to believe that those little black 
 bundles had once been human beings feeling and living 
 as keenly as we do now. We always kept our eyes on
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 123 
 
 Vesuvius as it really did seem as if something was going 
 on. The column of smoke looked thicker and we could 
 quite well see little jets of sand or small stones thrown 
 up from the crater. One afternoon when we came in 
 from driving everybody in the street was looking hard at 
 the mountain and the padrone informed us that the erup- 
 tion had begun. We didn't see anything, but after din- 
 ner when we were standing on the balcony suddenly we 
 saw a great tongue of flame leap out from the crater and 
 a stream of fire running down the side of the mountain. 
 The flame disappeared almost immediately; came back 
 three or four times in the course of the evening, but 
 didn't gain very much in height or intensity. The next 
 day, however, it had increased considerably and was a 
 fine sight at dark, every few moments a great tongue of 
 fire with quantities of stones and gravel thrown high in 
 the air. We almost fancied we heard the noise of thun- 
 der, but I don't think we did. People were flocking into 
 Naples, and we of course, like all the rest, were most 
 anxious to make the ascent. The landlord told us there 
 was no danger; that the authorities never permitted an 
 ascent if there was danger, and no guides would go, as 
 they are very prudent. One would go up on one side 
 (the only thing to avoid was the stream of red-hot lava). 
 Mother was rather unwilling, particularly as we were to 
 go at night (and at night from our balcony the moun- 
 tain did look rather a formidable thing to tackle). We 
 waited still another day and then when we had seen some 
 English people — two ladies and a youth who had made 
 the excursion and said it was not at all alarming and 
 most interesting — she agreed to let us go. Anne stayed 
 with her, she doesn't like donkey riding under any cir- 
 cumstances, and a donkey at night on the slopes of 
 Vesuvius in eruption, with a stream of red-hot lava run-
 
 124 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 ning alongside, didn't strike her absolutely as a pleas- 
 ant performance. We started about 7 o'clock, William, 
 Henrietta, Gertrude, and I. The drive out all the way 
 to Resina was most amusing. Quantities of people, the 
 famous Naples " cariole " crammed with peasants and 
 children, and all eyes turned to the mountain. Our land- 
 lord had made all the arrangements for us, secured the 
 best guides, donkeys, etc., and we were in great spirits. 
 The mountain looked forbidding ; as we came nearer we 
 heard the noise, rumbling and thunder — the thunder 
 always preceding a great burst of flames and showers of 
 stones thrown up very high and falling one didn't know 
 exactly where. I didn't say anything as I was very anx- 
 ious to make the ascent, but I did wonder where these 
 red stones fell and how one could know exactly before- 
 hand. We drove as far as we could and then arrived 
 at the Hermitage and Observatory, where there was a 
 very primitive sort of wooden house, half tavern, half 
 inn. Here donkeys and guides (very voluble) were 
 waiting, and we started. It had begun to rain a little, 
 but the guides assured us that it would not last and we 
 should soon be above the clouds. It was almost dark — 
 not quite — and everything looked weird, even the faces 
 of the guides seemed to me to have a curious expression ; 
 they looked fierce and wild. We went on quietly at first 
 though the rumblings under our feet and sudden light as 
 the flames burst out were unpleasant. When we began 
 the last steep ascent I had got very nervous. I was the 
 last of the party, and when the donkey-boy (an infant) 
 took a short cut, when the path was steep, calling out 
 cheerfully " Coraggio Signorina," and left me and the 
 donkey alone to clamber over the great slippery blocks of 
 lava, I was frightened and felt I should never get up to the 
 top. It was really terrifying — the rain and mist had in-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 125 
 
 creased very much, it was pitch dark, rumbling and thun- 
 der all the time, and such noises under our feet that I was 
 sure a great hole would open and we should all be swal- 
 lowed up. I didn't like the dark, but I certainly didn't 
 like the light either, when a great tongue of flame would 
 spring out of the crater spreading out like a fan and 
 throwing a mass of stones and gravel high in the air 
 which all fell somewhere on the mountain. The red 
 stream of lava looked wider and seemed to me to be com- 
 ing nearer. I called out to William, who was far ahead 
 and looked gigantic in the mist where he was crossing 
 some great rocks of lava (quite black and shiny when 
 they are old), and told him I was too frightened, that I 
 should go back to the Hermitage and wait there. He 
 was much disgusted — said there was no possible danger. 
 All the guides and donkey-boys repeated the same thing, 
 but it was no use, I was thoroughly unnerved and 
 couldn't make up my mind to go on. We had a consul- 
 tation with the guides as he didn't like the idea of my 
 going back alone to the inn, but they told him it was 
 all right, that the padrone was a " brav'uomo " and 
 would take care of me until they came back; so most 
 reluctantly they went on, and I turned my face home- 
 ward, always with my minute attendant whom I would 
 gladly have shaken as he was laughing and chattering 
 and repeating twenty times, " non c'e pericolo." I think 
 the going down was rather worse ; I had the rain in my 
 face, heard all the same unearthly noises around me, and 
 from time to time had glimpses of the whole country- 
 side — Naples, the little villages, the islands, the bay 
 standing out well in the red light thrown on them by the 
 flames from the crater ; then absolute darkness and still- 
 ness, nothing apparently on the mountain but me and the 
 donkey scrambling and stumbling over the wet, slippery
 
 126 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 stones. How we ever got down to the inn I don't 
 know, but both boy and donkey seemed to know the road. 
 I was thankful when we emerged on a sort of terrace 
 and saw a faint light, which meant the little inn. The 
 boy helped me off (it was pouring), called out something 
 at the door, told me to go in and go upstairs, then dis- 
 appeared around the corner with the donkey. I called — 
 no one answered — so I went upstairs, just seeing my way 
 by the light of a little dull, smoky lamp put in a niche of 
 the wall. I saw two doors when I got up to the top of 
 the stairs, both shut, so I called again, knocked; a man's 
 voice said something which I supposed to be " entrate " 
 and I walked in. I found myself in a big room hardly 
 lighted — a small lamp on a table, a fire of a sort of peat 
 and wood, a bed in one corner on which was stretched a 
 big man with a black beard and red shirt; another man 
 not quite so big, but also in a red shirt and a hat on his 
 head, got up when I came in, from a chair where he had 
 been sitting by the fire. He said something I couldn't 
 understand, first to me and then to his companion on 
 the bed, who answered I thought rather gruffly (they both 
 spoke Neapolitan " patois " which I couldn't understand 
 at first). I didn't feel very comfortable (still I liked even 
 that room with those two brigand-looking men better 
 than the mountain-side with the flames and the lava), 
 but I tried to explain, took off my wet cloak which spoke 
 for itself, and went toward the fire. My friend with the 
 hat always keeping up a running conversation with the 
 man on the bed, brought up a chair, then a sort of stand 
 over which he hung my cloak, and proceeded to take a 
 bottle out of a cupboard which I supposed was their 
 famous wine (lacrima Christi) which one always drinks 
 at Naples. However that I declined and established 
 myself on the chair by the fire. He took the other one,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 127 
 
 and when I looked at him I saw that he had rather a nice- 
 face; so I took courage. He pointed to my shoes, which 
 were wet as we had walked a little, and wanted to talk. 
 After a little while I began to understand him, and he 
 me; and we had quite a friendly conversation. He 
 looked at my shoes, asked me where they were made, 
 and when I said in Rome was madly interested ; he had 
 a brother in Rome, a shoemaker, perhaps I knew him 
 " Giuseppe Ricci," he might have made those very shoes 
 — instantly confided that interesting piece of information 
 to the gentleman on the bed. He told me they were 
 three brothers, the eldest was the shoemaker, then came 
 he the padrone of the osteria, and the other one " there 
 on the bed " had vines and made very good wine. He 
 asked me if I had ever seen the Pope, or Garibaldi (there 
 was a picture of Garibaldi framed on the wall), and when 
 I said I had often seen the former, and that he had a 
 good, kind face, he again conversed amicably with the 
 gentleman on the bed, who first raised himself into a sit- 
 ting posture, and finally got up altogether and came over 
 to the fire, evidently rather anxious to take part in the 
 conversation. He was an enormous man and didn't look 
 as nice as the " padrone." He rather startled me when he 
 bent down, took my foot in his hand and inspected the 
 shoe which he pronounced well made. We must have 
 sat there fully half an hour talking — they were perfectly 
 easy, but not familiar, and wanted to hear anything I 
 would tell them about Rome. Every now and then they 
 dropped off into some side talk in their " patois," and I 
 looked at the fire and thought what an extraordinary ex- 
 perience it was, sitting alone with such odd-looking com- 
 panions in that big, bare room on the top of Mount 
 Vesuvius. The fire had almost died out, the miserable lit- 
 tle lamp gave a faint flickering light that only made every-
 
 128 ITALIAN LETTERS [Aprh 
 
 thing look more uncanny, and every now and then the 
 whole room would be flooded with a red lurid light (her- 
 alded always by a violent explosion which made the crazy 
 little house shake) which threw out the figures of the two 
 men sitting with their long legs stretched out to the fire, 
 and keeping up a steady talk in a low voice. Still I 
 wasn't afraid ; I was quite sure they would be respectful, 
 and do all they could to help me. They had a sort of 
 native politeness, too, for they stopped their talk occa- 
 sionally and made conversation for me; one looked out 
 of the window and said the rain had stopped, but that the 
 night was " brutta " and they referred to other eruptions 
 and told me stories of accidents that had happened to 
 people — two young men, " Inglesi," who were killed be- 
 cause they would go on their own way and not listen to 
 the guides, consequently were knocked on the head by 
 some huge stones ; always assuring me that this eruption 
 was nothing. However I was getting tired, and found 
 the time long, when suddenly we heard the noise of a 
 party arriving, and for a moment I thought it was my 
 people; but no, they were coming the other way, up the 
 mountain. There was a great commotion and talking, lan- 
 terns flashing backward and forward, donkeys being led 
 out and all preparations made for the ascent — but there 
 seemed a hitch of some kind and I heard a woman's voice 
 speaking English. The " padrone " had rushed down- 
 stairs as soon as he heard the party arriving, and pres- 
 ently he reappeared talking very hard to a lady and two 
 gentlemen who were coming upstairs behind him and 
 evidently wanting something which they couldn't make 
 him understand. He was telling them to have patience, 
 that there was an " Inglese " upstairs who would talk to 
 them. They were so astounded when they saw me that 
 they were speechless — il y avait de quoi — seeing a girl
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 129 
 
 established there in rather a dishevelled condition, her hat 
 off, wet cloak hanging over the chair, and entirely alone 
 with those " Neapolitan brigands " — but one man ven- 
 tured to ask timidly " did I speak English." Oh yes — 
 Italian, too — what could I do for them. They explained 
 that the lady was tired, cold and wet (she looked mis- 
 erable, poor thing) and wanted a hot drink — brandy, any- 
 thing she could get. She didn't look as if she could go 
 on, but she said she would be all right if she could have 
 something hot, and that nothing would induce her to give 
 up the excursion, having come so far ; so a fresh piece of 
 wood, or peat rather of some kind (it looked quite black), 
 was put on the fire, also water in a most primitive pot. I 
 suggested that she should take off her cloak and let it dry a 
 little. The men brought in some more chairs and then the 
 new comers began to wonder who I was and what I was 
 doing there alone at that hour of the night. They were 
 Americans, told me their name, but I have forgotten it, 
 it is so long ago. I told them my experience — that I 
 was absolutely unnerved, in a dead funk, and would have 
 done anything rather than go on toward that horrible 
 crater. They couldn't understand that I wasn't much 
 more afraid of spending two hours in that lonely little 
 house in such company, and begged me to try again — 
 there was really no danger, people were going up all the 
 time, etc. The older man was very earnest — said they 
 couldn't leave a compatriot in such straits — he would 
 give me his donkey if another one couldn't be procured 
 and would walk — how could my brother have permitted 
 me to come back alone, etc. However I reassured him as 
 well as I could — told them I was perfectly accustomed 
 to Italians and knew the language well (which was a 
 great help to me, I don't know what I should have done 
 if I hadn't been able to talk and understand them).
 
 130 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 They stayed about 20 minutes — the lady said her drink 
 was very nasty, but hot, and she looked better for the 
 rest and partial drying. She wasn't as wet as I was, the 
 rain had stopped when they were half-way up. I told 
 them who I was and begged them to say, if they met my 
 people coming down, a gentleman and two ladies, that 
 they had seen me, and that I was quite dry and comfort- 
 able. They went away most reluctantly, were half in- 
 clined to stay until the others should come back, but the 
 guides were anxious to be off. Even at the last moment 
 when they had got downstairs, the older man came back 
 and begged me to come with them — " I assure you, my 
 dear young lady, you don't know in what a dangerous po- 
 sition you are; if I had any authority over you I should 
 insist, etc." He was very nice, and left all sorts of rec- 
 ommendations in English and a very good fee to the 
 padrone, who of course didn't understand a word of 
 what he was saying, but seemed to divine in some mys- 
 terious way. He looked smilingly at me, told me to cheer 
 up (" Coraggio " is their way of saying it) and told the 
 American, in Italian, that he would take good care of me. 
 He was very sorry to go and leave me, said he had never 
 done anything he liked so little. As soon as the excite- 
 ment of their departure was over the two men came back. 
 The " vigneron " went back to his bed, from where he 
 conversed with us occasionally, and the other one set- 
 tled down in his chair, and seemed half asleep. It wasn't 
 very long before my party came back. The men heard 
 them before I did, and told me they were arriving. I 
 must say I was glad to see them. They had had a splendid 
 time, seen everything beautifully, gone quite up to the 
 stream of red-hot lava, put umbrellas and canes into it 
 (the ends were quite black and burnt) — they were not 
 in the least nervous, and jibed well at me. William said
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 131 
 
 he had rather an uncomfortable feeling at first when he 
 saw me and my very small attendant depart, but he for- 
 got it in the excitement and novelty of their excursion. 
 He thanked the padrone for taking such good care of 
 me, proposed a hot drink (very bad it was) all round, 
 and we took quite a friendly leave of the two gentlemen. 
 I promised to try and find the brother shoemaker. They 
 had crossed my American friends on the way back — 
 William said they were just starting down when they 
 saw another party appearing and he heard a gentleman 
 say, " I think this must be Mr. King." He was very 
 much surprised to hear his name, but rode up to the 
 speaker, to see who he was, and then the gentleman told 
 him of his amazement at meeting his sister in that 
 wretched little shanty and how miserable he had felt at 
 leaving me there alone, with two Neapolitan brigands, 
 but that I had assured him I was quite safe and not at all 
 afraid of the two black giants — but he begged William 
 to hurry on, as it was not really the place to leave a girl 
 — even an American who would know how to take care 
 of herself. We made our journey down quite easily. It 
 was still pitch dark, except when the fire of the mountain 
 lighted up everything, but there was neither rain nor 
 wind, the air was soft, and the little outlying villages 
 looked quite quiet and peaceable, as if no great mountain 
 was throwing up masses of ashes and stones just over 
 their heads, which might after all destroy them entirely. 
 There must always be a beginning, and I suppose in the 
 old days of Pompeii and Herculaneum the beginning was 
 just what we have seen — first columns of smoke, then the 
 lava stream and showers of red-hot stones, and none of 
 the people frightened at first. We found Mother and 
 Anne waiting for us with supper. They had been a 
 little anxious, particularly as the weather was so bad,
 
 132 
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 and they evidently had had more of a tempest than we 
 had. They were of course madly interested in our expedi- 
 tion and were astounded that I was the coward. They 
 wouldn't have been at all surprised if it had been Gert. 
 It is true she is nearly always timid, and we used to play 
 all sorts of tricks on her when we were children at Cherry 
 Lawn, beguile her up into the big cherry tree, then take 
 the ladder away and tell her to climb down ; or take the 
 peg out of the boat, let in a little water and pretend it 
 was sinking — so she was triumphant this time. I can't 
 understand why I was so frightened. I am not usually 
 afraid of anything, but that time no reasoning would 
 have been of the least use, and nothing would have made 
 me go on to the crater. Mother was rather like the 
 American — she wouldn't have liked the flames and the 
 awful rumbling noises any more than I did, but she would 
 have been much more afraid of the lonely house and long 
 wait on the mountain in that wretched little inn with 
 those two big, black-bearded Neapolitans. 
 
 Le monde est petit — years afterward my brother Will- 
 iam was travelling in America, and in the smoking- 
 room all the men were telling their experiences either at 
 home or abroad — many strange adventures. One gen- 
 tleman said he had never forgotten a curious scene on the 
 top of Mount Vesuvius in eruption, when he had met an 
 American girl, quite alone, at night, in the dark and 
 rain, in a miserable little shanty with two great, big Nea- 
 politans " looking like brigands " (he evidently always 
 retained that first impression of my companions). He 
 told all the story, giving my name, which excited much 
 comment ; some of the listeners evidently thought it was a 
 traveller's tale, arranged on some slight foundation of 
 truth — however, when he had finished William said : 
 " That story is perfectly true. The young lady is my sis-
 
 isso] - OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 133 
 
 ter, and I am the Mr. King to whom you spoke that night 
 on the mountain, in the dark, begging me to hurry down, 
 and not leave my sister any longer alone in such com- 
 pany." They naturally didn't recognise each other, hav- 
 ing merely met for a moment in the dark, both wrapped 
 up in cloaks and under umbrellas. They had quite a 
 talk, and the gentleman was very anxious to know how 
 they found me — whether I wasn't really more uncom- 
 fortable than I allowed, and what had become of me. 
 
 We decided to move on to Sorrento and settle ourselves 
 there for some time. We also wanted to go to Capri, 
 but the steamers had stopped running, and we could only 
 get over in a sailboat. The man of the hotel advised 
 us to go from Sorrento, it was shorter and a charm- 
 ing sail on a bright day. The drive from Castellamare 
 was beautiful; divine views of the sea all the time 
 and equally lovely when we came down upon Sorrento, 
 which seemed to stand in the midst of orange groves and 
 vineyards. The Hotel Sirena is perched on the top of 
 a high cliff rising up straight from the sea. We had 
 charming rooms with a nice broad balcony, and at our 
 feet a little sheltered cove and beach of golden sand. 
 There were very few people in the hotel — the one or two 
 English spinsters of a certain age whom one always meets 
 travelling, and two artists. We were only about twelve 
 people at table-d'hote ; and as we were six that didn't 
 leave many outsiders. It was before the days of res- 
 taurants and small tables. There was one long, narrow 
 table — the padrone carved himself at a smaller one, and 
 talked to us occasionally. There was too much wind the 
 first days to think of attempting Capri, so we drove all 
 over the country, walked about in the orange groves and 
 up and down the steep hills, through lovely little paths 
 that wound in and out of olive woods along the side of
 
 134 
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 the mountain, sometimes clambering up a bit of straight 
 rock, that seemed a wall impossible to get over — when 
 it was too stiff there would be steps cut out in the earth 
 on one side, half hidden by the long grass and weeds. 
 
 Henrietta and I had discovered a pony trap with a 
 pair of sturdy little mountain ponies, quite black, and 
 we drove ourselves all over. Mother wouldn't let us go 
 alone, so the stableman sent his son with us, aged 12 
 years. He wasn't much of a protector ! but he knew the 
 ponies, and the country, and everybody we met. He was 
 a pretty little fellow — not at all the dark Italian type, 
 rather fair, with blue eyes, but always the olive skin of 
 the South. He invariably got off the little seat behind 
 and took a short cut up the hills when the road was very 
 steep, though I don't think his weight made any percep- 
 tible difference. 
 
 The evenings were delicious. We sat almost always 
 on the balcony — sometimes with a light wrap when the 
 breeze from the sea freshened about 9 o'clock. How 
 beautiful it was ; the sea deep blue, the islands changing 
 from pink to purple, and as soon as it was dark Vesuvius 
 sending up its pyramid of fire. It looked magnificent, 
 but very formidable. Almost every morning we saw a 
 ' party come and bathe in the little cove at the foot of the 
 cliff — a pretty little boat came around the point with a 
 family party on board — two ladies, one man and three 
 children. I think they were English, their installation 
 was so practical. They had a small tent, camp-stools, 
 and table, also two toy sailboats which were a source 
 of much pleasure and tribulation, as they frequently got 
 jammed in between the rocks, or caught in the thick sea- 
 weed, and there was great excitement until they were 
 started afresh. We made great friends with the sister of 
 the man at the hotel. She was a nun, such a gentle, good
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 135 
 
 face — she came every morning to get flowers for the lit- 
 tle chapel of Maria — Stella del Mare — which was near 
 the house, standing high on the hill and easily seen from 
 the sea. One day she seemed very busy and anxious 
 about her flowers, so we asked what was happening, and 
 she said it was their great fete, and they were going to 
 decorate the chapel and dress the Virgin — " should we 
 like to see it ? " The Virgin had a beautiful dress — white 
 satin with silver embroidery and some fine jewels which 
 some rich forestieri had given. We were delighted to go, 
 and went with her to the little chapel, which looked very 
 pretty filled with flowers and greens, one beautiful dark, 
 shiny leaf which made much effect. The Virgin was re- 
 moved from her niche — her vestments brought in with 
 great care, wrapped in soft paper, and the good sister 
 most reverently and happily began the toilet. The dress 
 was very elaborate, had been the wedding dress of an Ital- 
 ian Principessa, and there were some handsome pins and 
 rings — a gold chain on her neck with a pearl ornament. 
 She was rather lamenting over the cessation of gifts — 
 when I suddenly remembered my ring — quite a plain gold 
 one with the cross (pax) one always sees in Rome, which 
 had been blessed by the Pope. I put it on with three or 
 four other little ornaments one day when we had an audi- 
 ence. I took it off, explained to her what it was, that it 
 had been blessed by the Saint Pere and that I should like 
 very much to give it to the Virgin, if she wasn't afraid 
 of accepting anything from a heretic. She was a little 
 doubtful, but the fact of its having had the Pope's bless- 
 ing outweighed other considerations, and the ring was 
 instantly put on the Virgin's hand. She told us after- 
 ward that she had told it to the priest, and he said she was 
 quite right to accept it, it might be the means of bring- 
 ing me to the " true church." We grew really quite fond
 
 136 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 of her. It was such a simple, childish faith, her whole 
 life was given up to her little chapel, cleaning and deco- 
 rating it on feast days. All the children in the country 
 brought flowers and leaves, one little boy came once, she 
 told us, with a dead bird with bright feathers that he 
 found, quite beautiful. 
 
 We made friends with the people at the table-d'hote 
 and they were very anxious we should come down to 
 the reading-room at night and make music — but our 
 mourning of course prevented that. We used to hear 
 the piano sometimes and a man's voice singing, not too 
 badly. 
 
 At last the wind seemed to have blown itself out, and 
 our landlord said we could get easily to Capri. He could 
 recommend an excellent boatman who had a large, safe 
 boat and who was most prudent, as well as his son. With 
 a fair wind we ought to go over in two hours. We 
 wanted to stay over one night, and he arranged every- 
 thing. The boat would wait and bring us back the next 
 evening. We started early — about 9 o'clock — so as to 
 get over for breakfast. The boat was most comfortable, 
 a big broad tub, with rather a small sail, plenty of room 
 for all our bags, wraps, etc. The sea was divine, blue 
 and dancing, but there was not much wind. We pro- 
 gressed rather slowly, the breeze was mild, the boat heavy 
 and the sail small, but nobody minded. It was delicious 
 drifting along on that summer sea — just enough ripple 
 to make little waves that tumbled up against the side of 
 the boat, and a slight rocking motion that was delight- 
 ful — couldn't have suggested sea-sickness or nervousness 
 to the most timid sailor. There were plenty of boats 
 about (mostly fishermen) of all sizes, some of them with 
 the dark red sail that is so effective, and several pleasure 
 boats and small yachts. They were almost as broad and
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 137 
 
 solid as our boat; hadn't at all the graceful outlines and 
 large sails that we are accustomed to. We were exactly 
 three hours going over though the breeze freshened a 
 little as we got near Capri. We were quite excited when 
 we made out the landing-place (" Marina grande ") and 
 the long, steep flight of steps leading up to the town. 
 The last time we were there we went by the regular tour- 
 ist steamer from Naples. There were quantities of people 
 and a perfect rush for donkeys and guides as soon as we 
 arrived ; also the whole population of Capri on the shore 
 chattering, offering donkeys, flowers, funny little bottles 
 of wine, and a troop of children running up the steps 
 alongside of the donkeys and clamouring for " un piccolo 
 soldo." This time there was no one at the landing-place, 
 but the man of the hotel with a sedan chair for mother, 
 donkeys for us if we wanted them (we didn't — preferred 
 walking) and a wheelbarrow or hand cart of some kind 
 for the luggage, which was slight — merely bags and 
 wraps. There were a good many steps, but they were 
 broad, we didn't mind. We found a very nice little hotel, 
 kept by an English couple. The woman had been for 
 years maid in the Sheridan family. She told us there 
 was no one in the hotel but one Englishman — in fact no 
 foreigners in the island. We had a very good breakfast 
 in a nice, fairly large room with views of the sea in all 
 directions, and started off immediately afterward to see 
 as much as we could. Mother had her chair, but didn't 
 go all the way with us. We passed through narrow, 
 badly paved little streets with low, pink houses, lots of 
 people, women and children, standing in the doorways — 
 no men, I suppose they were all fishing — and then climbed 
 up to the Villa Tiberius — a steep climb at the end, but 
 such a view. Before we got quite to the top we stopped 
 at the " Salto di Tiberio," a rock high up over the water
 
 i 3 8 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 from which the guide told us that monarch had his vic- 
 tims precipitated into the sea. We dropped down stones 
 (I remember quite well doing the same thing when we 
 were there before) to see how long it was before they 
 touched the water, which showed at what a height one 
 was. The palace is too much in ruins to be very interest- 
 ing, but there was enough to show how large it must have 
 been, and bits of wall and arches still standing. We 
 went on to the chapel, drank some rather bad wine which 
 the hermit offered us, bought some paper weights and 
 crosses made out of bits of coloured marble which had 
 been found in the ruins, and wrote our names in his book. 
 We looked back in the book to see if there were any in- 
 teresting signatures, but there was nothing remarkable — 
 a great many Germans. 
 
 We came home by another path, winding down through 
 small gardens, vineyards, and occasionally along the steep 
 side of the mountain, all stones and ragged rocks, with 
 the sea far down at Our feet. There were a good many 
 houses scattered about, one or two quite isolated near the 
 top. We had a running escort of little black-eyed brown 
 children all talking and offering little bunches of moun- 
 tain flowers. The guides remonstrated vigorously occa- 
 sionally and they would disappear, but were immediately 
 replaced by another band from the next group of houses 
 we passed. 
 
 We were rather tired when we got back to the hotel 
 as the climbing was stiff in some parts, and glad to rest 
 a little before dinner. The padrona came in and talked 
 to us. It seemed funny to see an English woman in that 
 milieu with her brown hair quite smooth and plain and a 
 clean print dress. She said she liked her life, and the 
 people of the island. They were industrious, simple and 
 easy-going. She talked a great deal about the Sheridans,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 139 
 
 for whom she had of course the greatest admiration, said 
 one of the sons came often to Capri, and that his cousin 
 Norton had married a Capri fisher-girl. We had heard 
 the story, of course, and were much interested in all 
 she told us. She said the girl was lovely, an absolute 
 peasant, had walked about with bare feet like all the rest, 
 but that she had been over to England, was taught there 
 all they could get into her head, and was quite changed, 
 had two children. I remember their telling us in Rome 
 what a difficult process that education was. She was 
 willing and anxious to learn to read and write, but her 
 ambition and her capability of receiving instruction 
 stopped there — when they wanted to teach her a little his- 
 tory (not very far back either) and the glories of the 
 Sheridan name she was recalcitrant, couldn't interest her- 
 self and dismissed the subject saying, " ma sono morti 
 tutti " (they are all dead). She always kept her little 
 house at Capri, in fact was there now, perhaps we should 
 like to see her. We said we should very much. 
 
 We had nice, clean comfortable rooms and made out 
 our plan for the next day. We didn't care about the Blue 
 Grotto — we had seen it before, and besides they told us 
 that at this season of the year it would be almost impos- 
 sible, one must have a perfectly still sea as the entrance 
 is not easy — very low — and a big wave would swamp the 
 boat. We heard the wind getting up a little in the night 
 and we woke the next morning to see a grey, cloudy sky, 
 little showers falling occasionally, and a fine gale, sea 
 rough, no little boats out, one or two fishing boats racing 
 along under well-reefed sails, anything but tempting for 
 a three hours' sail in an open boat. Mother looked de- 
 cidedly nervous; however the matter was taken out of 
 our hands, for the boatmen appeared saying they would 
 not go out, which was rather a relief; we didn't mind
 
 I 4 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 staying. There was a fair library in the house, books 
 that visitors had left, so we hunted up a history of Capri 
 (Baedeker was soon exhausted), and got through our 
 morning pretty well, some reading aloud, the others knit- 
 ting or working. We had all taken some sort of work in 
 our bags, various experiences of small hotels on rainy 
 days having taught us to provide our own amusement. 
 
 It cleared in the afternoon though the wind was still 
 very high and we set off — on donkeys this time — and 
 mother in her chair, to the other side of the island. Two 
 or three girls, handsome enough in their bright skirts, 
 bare brown legs and thick braids of hair, came with us to 
 take charge of the donkeys. As we were going up a steep 
 flight of steps (which the donkeys did very well and delib- 
 erately) they began to tell us about Mrs. Norton and said 
 we should pass her house. It was amusing to hear them 
 talk of her wonderful luck in being married to this " bel 
 Inglese " ; " adesso fa la signora sta in camera tutto il 
 giorno — colle mani bianche " (" Now she does the lady, 
 sits in her room all day with white hands "). We passed 
 several houses rather better than the ordinary fisherman's 
 cottage and then came upon a nice little white house, 
 standing rather high, with a garden and gate, which they 
 told us was Mrs. Norton's. We stopped a moment at the 
 gate, looking at the garden; mother's bearers put her 
 chair down and gave themselves a rest, and we saw a 
 lady appear very simply dressed in something dark, who 
 came to the gate and asked us in very nice English with 
 a pretty accent if we would come in and rest, as the day 
 was hot and we had had a steep climb. We heard all 
 the fisher-girls giggling and saying " Eccola la Signora." 
 We were half ashamed to have been seen gaping in at her 
 garden, but the invitation was simply and cordially given, 
 and we accepted. Her manner to mother was quite pretty,
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 141 
 
 respectful to the older lady. We went into a pretty 
 little sitting-room quite simply furnished, with books and 
 photographs about. She showed us pictures of all her 
 family, her husband (regretting extremely that he was 
 not there), her mother-in-law, Mrs. Norton, and her chil- 
 dren. She seemed very proud of her son, said he was 
 at school in England and didn't care very much for Capri. 
 I asked her if she liked England, and though she said 
 " very much," I thought I detected a regret for her old 
 home, though not perhaps her old life. Her face quite 
 lighted up when we said how much we admired her island 
 with its high cliffs and beautiful blue sea. I didn't find 
 her as handsome as I expected, but the eyes were fine and 
 her smile charming. Her manner was perfectly natural, 
 she showed us very simply all she had, and was not in 
 the least curious about us — asked us no questions, was 
 evidently accustomed to seeing foreigners and tourists 
 at Capri. We stayed about half an hour, and then went 
 on our way. She shook hands with us all, and looked 
 most smilingly at mother; couldn't quite understand her 
 black dress and white cap — said we mustn't let her do too 
 much, " she is not so young as you, la mamma." 
 
 Of course the fisher-girls were in a wild state of excite- 
 ment when we came out — all talked at once, stopping in 
 the middle of the path, the donkeys, too ; when they had 
 much to say, and telling the whole story over again. I 
 said to one of them, " Should you like to marry a ' bel 
 Inglese ' and go and live in another country far away from 
 Capri with no sun nor blue sky ? " She thought a mo- 
 ment, looking straight at me with her big, black eyes and 
 then answered, sensibly enough, my rather foolish ques- 
 tion — she had never thought about it — was quite happy 
 where she was. It was a curious meeting. 
 
 When we got back to the hotel we asked our padrona
 
 1 4 2 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 about Mrs. Norton and the life she led. She told us 
 Mrs. Norton mere * had been in despair when her son 
 married the fisher-girl — he was very good-looking and 
 her favourite, and it was a great blow to her, but that 
 she had been very good to her and was fond of the 
 boy. She didn't seem to think the young woman had 
 had a very happy life, but that she was always delighted 
 to get back to Capri. " Did she see any of her old 
 friends?" "Not much — that was difficult — she only 
 came in the summer, the children generally with her, and 
 they fished and sailed and made their own life apart." 
 
 We got back to Sorrento the next morning — the sea 
 beautifully smooth and calm — no trace of the great waves 
 that had roared all night into the numerous caves, throw- 
 ing up showers of foam. 
 
 My dear, I seem to have prosed on for pages about 
 Naples, but once started I couldn't stop. Tell Henrietta 
 I feel rather like her when we used to call her Mrs. 
 Nickleby, because she never could keep to any one subject, 
 but always made long, foolish digressions. 
 
 Monday, April 13th. 
 Last night we had a pleasant dinner at Mr. Hooker's, 
 the American banker. He still lives in one end of his 
 apartment in the Palazzo Bonaparte, but has rented the 
 greater part to the Suzannets.f We were a small party 
 — ourselves, Schuylers, Ristori (Marchesa Caprannica), 
 and her charming daughter. Ristori is very striking 
 looking — very large, but dignified and easy in her move- 
 ments, and a wonderfully expressive face. The girl, 
 Bianca Caprannica, is charming, tall, fair, graceful. Ris- 
 tori talked a great deal, speaks French, of course, per- 
 
 * The well-known poetess and beauty, n6e Sheridan. 
 
 t Comte de Suzannet, Secretary of the French Embassy.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 143 
 
 fectly. She admires the French stage, and we discussed 
 various actors and actresses. I should love to see her act 
 once, her voice is so full and beautiful. Such a character- 
 istic scene took place after coffee. We were still sitting 
 in the dining-room when we heard a carriage come in, 
 and instantly there was a great sound of stamping horses, 
 angry coachman, whip freely applied, etc. It really made 
 a great noise and disturbance. Ristori listened for a 
 moment, then rushed to the window (very high up — we 
 were on the top story), exclaiming it was her man, 
 opened it, and proceeded to expostulate with the irate 
 coachman in very energetic Italian — " Che diavolo !" were 
 these her horses or his, was he a Christian man to treat 
 poor brutes like that, etc. — a stream of angry remonstrance 
 in her deep, tragic voice. There was a cessation of 
 noise in the courtyard — her voice dominated everything — 
 and then I suppose the coachman explained and excused 
 himself, but we were so high up and inside that we 
 couldn't hear. She didn't listen, but continued to abuse 
 him until at length Hooker went to the window and sug- 
 gested that she might cease scolding and come back into 
 the room, which she did quite smilingly — the storm had 
 passed. 
 
 This morning we have been to the Doria Gallery. The 
 palace is enormous, a great court and staircase and some 
 fine pictures. We liked a portrait by Velasquez of a Pope 
 — Innocent X, I think — and some of the Claude Lor- 
 raines, with their curious blue-green color. We walked 
 home by the Corso. It was rather warm, but shady al- 
 ways on one side of the street. After breakfast Cardinal 
 Bibra, the Bishop of Frascati, came to see us. He was 
 much disappointed that we had had such a horrid day for 
 our Frascati and Tusculum expedition, and wants us to 
 go again, but we haven't time. We want to go to Ostia
 
 144 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 and Albano if it is possible. He and W. plunged into 
 ecclesiastical affairs. It is curious what an importance 
 they all attach to W.'s being a Protestant ; seem to think 
 his judgment must be fairer. He also knew about Uncle 
 Evelyn having married and settled in Perugia, and had 
 heard the Pope speak about him. He spoke about the 
 Marquis de Gabriac (Desprez's predecessor) and re- 
 gretted his departure very much. I think he had not yet 
 seen the new Ambassador. W. told him Desprez would 
 do all he could to make things go smoothly, that his whole 
 career had been made at the Quai d'Orsay, where every 
 important question for years had been discussed with 
 him. 
 
 Tuesday, April 14th. 
 We dined last night at the Black Spanish Embassy with 
 the Cardenas. It was very pleasant. We had two cardi- 
 nals — Bibra and a Spanish cardinal whose name I didn't 
 catch ; he had a striking face, keen and stern, didn't talk 
 much at dinner — Desprez and his son, the Sulmonas, 
 Bandinis, Primolis (she is nee Bonaparte), d'Aulnays, 
 all the personnel of the French Embassy, and one or two 
 young men from the other embassies; quite a small din- 
 ner. W. took in Princess Sulmona and enjoyed it very 
 much. Primoli took me, and I had Prince Bandini on 
 the other side. Both men were pleasant enough. All 
 the women except me were in high dresses, and Primoli 
 asked me how I had the conscience to appear " decol- 
 letee " and show bare shoulders to cardinals. I told him 
 we weren't told that we should meet any cardinals, and 
 that in these troubled days I thought a woman in full 
 dress was such a minor evil that I didn't believe they 
 would even notice what one had on ; but he seemed to 
 think they were observant, says all churchmen of any de-
 
 Pope Pius IX.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 145 
 
 nomination are. Their life is so inactive that they get 
 their experience from what they see and hear. I talked 
 a few minutes to Princess Bandini after dinner, but she 
 went away almost immediately, as she had music (Tosti) 
 at home. We promised to go to her later — I wanted 
 very much to hear Tosti. The evening was short. The 
 cardinals always go away early — at 9.30 (we dined at 
 7.30, and every one was punctual). As long as they 
 stayed the men made a circle around them. They are 
 treated with much deference (we women were left to 
 our own devices). W. said the conversation was not 
 very interesting, they talk with so much reserve always. 
 He said the Spaniard hardly spoke, and Cardinal Bibra 
 talked antiquities, the excavations still to be made in Tus- 
 culum, etc. I think they go out very little now, only 
 occasionally to Black embassies. Their position is of 
 course much changed since the Italians are in Rome. 
 They live much more quietly; never receive, their car- 
 riages are much simpler, no more red trappings, nothing 
 to attract attention — so different from our day. When 
 Pio Nono went out it was a real royal progress. First 
 came the " batta strada " or " piqueur " on a good horse, 
 stopping all the carriages and traffic; then the Pope in 
 , his handsome coach, one or two ecclesiastics with him, 
 followed by several cardinals in their carriages, minor 
 prelates, members of the household and the escort of 
 " gardes nobles." All the gentlemen got out of their 
 carriages, knelt or bowed very low; the ladies stood in 
 theirs, making low curtseys, and many people knelt in the 
 street. One saw the old man quite distinctly, dressed all 
 in white, leaning forward a little and blessing the crowd 
 with a large sweeping movement of his hand. He rarely 
 walked in the streets of Rome, but often in the villas — 
 Pamphili or Borghese. There almost all the people he
 
 I 4 6 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 met knelt; children kissed his hand, and he would some- 
 times pat their little black heads. We crossed him one 
 day in the Villa Pamphili. We were a band of young- 
 sters — Roman and foreigners — and all knelt. The old 
 man looked quite pleased at the group of young people — 
 stopped a moment and gave his blessing with a pretty 
 smile. Some of our compatriots were rather horrified at 
 seeing us kneel with all the rest — Protestants doing 
 homage to the head of the Roman Catholic Church — and 
 expressed their opinion to father : it would certainly be a 
 very bad note for my brother.* However, father didn't 
 think the United States Government would attach much 
 importance to our papal demonstration, and we continued 
 to kneel and ask his blessing whenever we met His Holi- 
 ness. He had a kind, gentle face (a twinkle, too, in his 
 eyes), and was always so fond of children and young 
 people. The contrast between him and his successor is 
 most striking. Leo XIII is tall, slight, hardly anything 
 earthly about him — the type of the intellectual, ascetic 
 priest — all his will and energy shining out of his eyes, 
 which are extraordinarily bright and keen for a man of 
 his age. 
 
 We didn't stay very long after the cardinals left, as I 
 was anxious to get off to Princess Bandini. We found 
 a great many people, and music going on. Some woman 
 had been singing — a foreigner, either English or Ameri- 
 can — and Tosti was just settled at the piano. He is quite 
 charming; has very little voice, but says his things de- 
 lightfully, accompanying himself with a light, soft touch. 
 He sang five or six times, principally his own songs, with 
 much expression ; also a French song extremely well. His 
 diction is perfect, his style simple and easy. One won- 
 ders why every one doesn't sing in the same way. They 
 
 ♦General Rufus King, last United States Minister to the Vatican.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 147 
 
 don't, as we perceived when a man with a big voice, high 
 barytone, came forward, and sang two songs, Italian and 
 German. The voice was fine, and the man sang well, but 
 didn't give half the pleasure that Tosti did with his " voix 
 de compositeur " and wonderful expression. He was in- 
 troduced to me, and we had a pleasant talk. He loves 
 England, and goes there every season. A good many 
 people came in after us. I wanted to introduce W. to some 
 one and couldn't find him, thought he must have gone, 
 and was just going to say good-night to Princess Ban- 
 dini when her husband came up, saying, " You mustn't 
 go yet — your husband is deep in a talk with Cardinal 
 Howard," and took me to one of the small salons, where I 
 saw the two gentlemen sitting, talking hard. The Cardi- 
 nal was just going when we came in, so he intercepted 
 W. and carried him off to this quiet corner where they 
 would be undisturbed. They must have been there quite 
 three-quarters of an hour, for I went back into the music- 
 room, and it was some little time before W. found me 
 there. Every one had gone, but we stayed on a little 
 while, talking to the two Bandinis. It is a funny change 
 for W. to plunge into all this clerical society of Rome; 
 but he says he understands their point de vue much bet- 
 ter, now that he sees them here, particularly when both 
 parties can talk quite frankly. It would be almost im- 
 possible to have such a talk in France — each side begins 
 with such an evident prejudice. The honest clerical really 
 believes that the liberal is a man absolutely devoid of 
 religious feeling of any kind — a dangerous character, in- 
 capable of real patriotic feeling, and doing great harm to 
 his country. The liberal is not quite so narrow-minded ; 
 but he, too, in his heart holds the clergy responsible for 
 the want of progress, the narrow grooves they would like 
 the young generation to move in, and the influence they
 
 148 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 try to exercise in families through the women (who all 
 go to church and confession). With the pitiless logic of 
 the French character every disputed point stands out clear 
 and sharp, and discussion is very difficult. Here they 
 are more supple — leave a larger part to human weak- 
 nesses. 
 
 Thursday, April 16th. 
 We have finally had our day at Albano, and delightful 
 it was. W. and I went alone, as Gert was not very well, 
 and afraid of the long day in the sun. We started early 
 — at 8.30 — though we had been rather late the night be- 
 fore as Count Coello, Spanish Ambassador,* sent us his 
 box for the opera. It was Lohengiin — well enough 
 given, orchestra and chorus good, but the solists rather 
 weak. Elsa, a very stout Italian woman of mature 
 years, did not give one just the idea of the fair patrician 
 maiden one imagines her to be. The Italian sounded 
 very funny after hearing it always in German, and 
 " Cigno gentil " didn't at all convey the same idea as 
 " Lieber Schwan." The tenor had a pretty, sympathetic 
 voice and looked his part well (rather more like Elsa's 
 son than her lover), but one mustn't be too particular. 
 The house was fairly brilliant — much fuller than the last 
 time we were there — and quantities of people we knew. 
 Hardly any one in full dress, which is a pity, as it makes 
 the salle look dull. One or two women in white (one 
 very handsome with diamond stars in her hair, whom no- 
 body knew) stood out very well against the dark red of 
 the boxes. Del Monte came in and sat some time with 
 us. He is quite mad about Wagner — rare for an Italian. 
 They generally like more melody and less science. We 
 invited him to come to Albano with us and show us every- 
 
 * To the Quirinal.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 149 
 
 thing, and I think he was half inclined to accept, but he 
 was de service that day and it was too late to find any 
 one to replace him. 
 
 We finally decided to drive out after various consulta- 
 tions as to hours, routes, etc. It is quicker by the rail- 
 way and we should perhaps have rather more time, but we 
 both of us love the drive on the Campagna, and W. was 
 very keen to take the old Via Appia again and realize 
 more completely the street of tombs. It was a lovely 
 morning and every minute of the drive interesting, 
 even when we were almost shut in between the high grey 
 walls which stretch out some little distance at first leaving 
 the Porta San Sebastiano. They were covered with 
 creepers, pink roses starting apparently out of all the 
 crevices ; pretty, dirty little children tumbling over the 
 broken bits into the road almost under the horses' feet; 
 every now and then a donkey's head emerging from an 
 opening, or a wrinkled old woman appearing at some open 
 door smiling and nodding a cheerful " Buon giorno! " to 
 the passers-by. There was a long string of carts with 
 nothing apparently in them. They didn't take much 
 trouble about getting a little to one side to let the carriage 
 pass; and their drivers — some of them stretched out on 
 their backs in the carts, the reins hanging loosely over 
 the seat — didn't at all mind the invectives our coachman 
 hurled at them, " pigs, lazy dogs, etc." Of course we 
 passed again Cecilia Metella, also two tombs said to be 
 the Horatii and Curatii ; and the Casale Rotondo with a 
 house and olive trees on the top, but I cannot remember 
 half the names, nor places. 
 
 We were armed with our Baedeker, but it goes into 
 such details of all the supposed tombs and monuments 
 that one gets rather lost. I don't know that it adds very 
 much to the interest to know the names and dates of all
 
 i 5 o ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 the tombs. One feels in such an old-world atmosphere 
 they speak for themselves. The colours were beautiful 
 t(>c l a y— me old stones had a soft, grey tint. It is a 
 desolate bit of road all the same — so little life or move- 
 ment of any kind. As we got further out we came upon 
 the long line of aqueducts, but there were apparently miles 
 of plain with nothing in sight — occasionally a flock of 
 sheep in the distance, the shepherd riding a rough, un- 
 kempt little pony, and looking a half-wild creature him- 
 self — som e boys on donkeys, and the shepherds' dogs, 
 which came barking and jumping over the plain toward 
 the strangers. They are sometimes very fierce. Years 
 ago in Rome when we used to make long excursions rid- 
 ing to Vei or Ostia, the gentlemen of the party always car- 
 ried good big whips to keep them off. They have been 
 known to spring on the horses, who are afraid of them. 
 One sprang on Gert once, when we were cantering over 
 the Campagna, and almost tore her habit off. We didn't 
 meet any cart or vehicle of any description. I wondered 
 where all these were going that we passed on the road, 
 and asked our Giuseppe, but he merely shrugged his shoul- 
 ders and said they were " robaccia " (trash). 
 
 We stopped a few minutes at the Osteria della Frat- 
 tocchie — the man watered his horses (had a drink him- 
 self, too) and was very anxious we should try some of the 
 " vino del paese." We tasted it — a sour, white wine, 
 very like all the cheap Italian wines. The view from the 
 Osteria looking back toward Rome was very striking. 
 Long lines of ruined, crumbling tombs and arches — great 
 blocks of stone, heads of columns, mounds, wide ditches 
 choked up with weeds, broken walls — all the dead past of 
 the great city. The sun was bright, but there were plenty 
 of little clouds, and the changing lights and shades on the 
 great expanse of the Campagna were beautiful. The
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 151 
 
 hills seemed now so near that we almost felt like getting 
 out and walking, but the man assured us we had still 
 three or four miles before us, and a steep hill to climb — 
 Albano on the top. The road was shady — between two 
 lines of trees. As we got near the city we saw Pompey's 
 tomb — a high tower with bits of marble still on the walls. 
 W. is rather sceptical about all the tombs; would like 
 to have time enough to investigate himself and make out 
 all the inscriptions, but it would take a lifetime. 
 
 We went at once to the hotel to order breakfast, and 
 then strolled about in the streets until it was ready. It 
 looked more changed to me than Frascati — more modern. 
 They tell me many people go out there now for their sum- 
 mer " villegiatura," principally English and Americans, 
 bankers, doctors, artists, etc.,who are obliged to spend their 
 summer in or near Rome. There were many new houses, 
 and in all the old palaces apartments to rent. There were 
 a few tourists walking about, but happily no Cook's this 
 time. When we went back to the hotel we told the land- 
 lord what we wanted to see — Ariccia, Genzano and Nemi. 
 He suggested donkeys, but that we both declined, so he 
 said he had a good little carriage which could take us 
 easily. The breakfast was good, we were both hungry, 
 and after coffee we walked about in the Villa Doria under 
 the ilex trees. W. smoked and was quite happy, and I 
 wasn't sorry to walk a little after having been so long in 
 the carriage. We went to the gardens of the Villa 
 Altieri. It was there the Cardinal died in the cholera 
 summer of '69 when we were at Frascati. We could 
 almost have walked to Ariccia, it is so near, and such a 
 lovely road, all ilex trees and great rocks, winding along 
 the side of the hill. The church and old Chigi Palace 
 look very grand and imposing as one gets near the gates 
 of the little town. We walked about the streets and went
 
 1 52 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 into the church, but there was not much to see, and I 
 thought it less effective seen near ; then on to the gardens 
 of the Capuchin Convent, from where there are splendid 
 views in every direction, and always the thick shade of 
 the ilex. We couldn't loiter very much as we had the 
 drive to Genzano before us. The road was quite beau- 
 tiful all the way; every turn familiar (how many times 
 we have ridden over it), and Genzano with its little, old 
 streets straggling up the hill looked exactly the same. I 
 had forgotten the great viaduct which one sees all the 
 time on that road, it is splendid. We again got out of 
 the carriage and walked up a steep little path to have a 
 view of Lake Nemi. It lay far down at our feet — a lit- 
 tle green pond (yet high too), they say it was a volcanic 
 crater. The water was perfectly still — not even a shim- 
 mer of light or movement. Every way we turned the view 
 was beautiful — either down the valley where the colours 
 were changing all the time, sometimes quite grey, when the 
 sun was under a cloud (one almost felt a chill), and then 
 every leaf and flower sparkling in the sunlight — or toward 
 the hills where the little towns Rocca di Papa and Monte 
 Cavo seemed hanging on the side of the mountain. 
 
 The drive back to Albano by the " Galleria di Sotto " 
 under the enormous ilex trees was simply enchanting, the 
 afternoon sun throwing beautiful streaks of yellow light 
 through the thick shade, and the road most animated — 
 groups of peasants coming in from their work in the 
 fields; old women tottering along, almost disappearing 
 beneath the great bundles of fagots they carried on their 
 heads; girls with jet-black hair and eyes, in bright-col- 
 oured skirts, and little handkerchiefs pinned over their 
 shoulders, laughing and singing and chaffing the drivers 
 of the wine carts, who usually got down and walked along 
 with them, leaving their horses, who followed quietly, the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 153 
 
 men turning around occasionally and talking to them. 
 In the fields alongside there were teams of the splendid 
 white oxen and quantities of children tumbling up and 
 down the banks and racing after the carriage. They spot 
 the foreigner at once. I had talked so much to W. about 
 the beauty of the road, the Galleria in particular, that I 
 was afraid he would be disappointed ; but he wasn't, was 
 quite as enthusiastic as I was. 
 
 When we got back to Albano I tried to find some of 
 the little cakes (ciambelle) we used to buy when we rode 
 over from Frascati; the little package wrapped up in 
 greasy brown paper and tied to the pommel of the sad- 
 dle; but the woman at the very nice baker's or confec- 
 tioner's shop we went into hadn't any, but said she could 
 make a " plome cheke " (she showed us the ticket with 
 the name on it with pride), which was what all the 
 " Inglesi " took. 
 
 The drive home was lovely — just enough of the beau- 
 tiful sunset clouds to give colour to everything; the air 
 soft and the world so still that a dog barking in one of 
 the little old farms or shepherds' huts made quite a dis- 
 turbance. As the evening closed in we heard the "grilli " 
 (alas, no nightingales; it is still too early) and the bushes 
 along the road were bright with fire-flies. The road 
 seemed much less lonely going back to Rome; so many 
 peasants were coming back from the fields, also boys on 
 donkeys with empty sacks — had evidently taken olives, 
 cheese, or dried herbs into the city — and always bands 
 of girls laughing and singing. It was an ideal day, and 
 after dinner we were just tired enough to settle in our 
 respective arm-chairs and say how glad we were we had 
 decided to come and spend these months in Italy. 
 
 The Schuylers came in for a cup of tea and Gert was 
 rather sorry she hadn't come, as her headache wasn't very
 
 i 5 4 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 serious. I think they will take themselves out to Albano 
 for a little stay as soon as the heat begins. 
 
 Friday, April 17th. 
 This morning we went for a last turn in the Vatican. 
 That is what W. likes best. There is so much to see in 
 that marvellous collection. He wanted to copy one or 
 two inscriptions, so I wandered about alone and talked to 
 the custode, who has become an intimate friend of ours. 
 He hovers about W. when he is taking notes or examining 
 things closely, and is evidently much gratified at the inter- 
 est he takes in everything — quite like a collector showing 
 off his antiquities. We saw a little commotion at one end 
 of the long gallery, and he came running up to say " His 
 Holiness " was walking in the garden, and if we would 
 come with him he would take us to a window from where 
 we could see him quite distinctly. This of course we 
 were delighted to do, as one never sees the present Pope, 
 except in some great ceremony when he is carried in the 
 " sedia gestatoria," but so high over the heads of the 
 people that one can hardly distinguish his features. We 
 walked down the gallery, through two or three passages, 
 up a flight of stairs, and came upon a window looking 
 down directly on the gardens. They are beautiful, more 
 like a park than a garden, and one can quite understand 
 that the Pope can get a very good drive there, the days 
 he doesn't walk. The custode says he only walks when 
 it is quite fine, is afraid of the damp or wind, but that he 
 goes out every day. There is a wood, flowers, long alleys 
 stretching far away bordered with box and quite wide 
 enough for a carriage, various buildings, a casino, tower, 
 observatory, etc., also fountains and a lake (I didn't see 
 a boat upon it). In the middle of one of the alleys a 
 little group was walking slowly in our direction — about
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 155 
 
 10 people I should think. The Pope, dressed always in 
 white, seemed to walk easily enough. He carried himself 
 very straight, and was talking with a certain animation 
 to the two ecclesiastics who walked on each side of him. 
 He stopped every now and then, going on with his con- 
 versation and using his hands freely. He was talking all 
 the time, the others listening with much deference. The 
 suite seemed to consist of three or four priests and two 
 servants. I didn't see either a Suisse or Garde-Noble, 
 but they may have been following at a distance. Our 
 glimpse of him was fleeting, as he turned into a side alley 
 before he got up to our window — still it was enough to 
 realize his life — think of never going outside those walls, 
 walking day after day in those same alleys, cut off from 
 all the outside world and living his life in the still- 
 ness and monotony of the Vatican. However it certainly 
 doesn't react in any way upon his intellect. They say 
 he is just as keen and well up in everything as when he 
 was Bishop of Perugia, and that his indomitable will will 
 carry him through. 
 
 We thanked our old custode very warmly (and in 
 many ways) for having brought us to the window, and 
 also said good-bye to him, as this of course was our last 
 visit to the Vatican. He begged us to come back, but it 
 must be soon, or he wouldn't be there, as he was as old 
 as the Pope. 
 
 When we got to the hotel we found Monsignor Eng- 
 lish in the salon with the Pope's photograph, very well 
 framed with a gilt shield with the Papal arms on the top. 
 It is exactly like him, sitting very straight in his chair, 
 his hand lifted a little just as if he were speaking, and the 
 other hand and arm resting on the arm of the chair. He 
 is dressed in his white robes, red cape and embroidered 
 stole, just as we saw him; and his little white cap on his
 
 156 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 head. He has written himself a few words in Latin, of 
 which this is a free translation : " The woman who fears 
 God, makes her own reputation. Her husband was cele- 
 brated in his country when he sat with the Senators of 
 the land." I am so pleased to have the photograph — 
 so many people told me I should never get it, that the 
 Pope rarely gave his picture to anybody and never signed 
 one. Monsignor English, too, was much pleased, as he 
 had undertaken the whole thing. He said again that the 
 Pope was glad to have seen W., found him so moderate, 
 and yet very decided, too, about what the church mustn't 
 do. Leo XIII. has an awfully difficult part to play — 
 the ultra-Catholics disapprove absolutely his line — can't 
 understand any concession or compromise with Republi- 
 can France, and yet there are very good religious people 
 on the liberal side, and he, as Head of the Church, must 
 think about all his children, and try to conciliate, not 
 alienate. It is wonderful that that old man sitting up 
 there by himself at the top of the Vatican can think out 
 all those perplexed questions and arrive at a solution. 
 They say he works it all out himself — rarely asks advice. 
 I daresay it wouldn't help him if he did, for of course 
 there are divisions, too, in the clerical party of Rome, even 
 among the Cardinals, where the difference of nationalities 
 must have a very great influence. I should think there 
 was almost as much difference between an American and 
 an Italian Cardinal as between Protestants and Catholics. 
 The American must look at things from a different point 
 of view. Monsignor English quite understood that — 
 said Americans were more independent — still when a 
 great question came they must submit like all the rest. 
 
 We then had a most animated discussion as to how far 
 it was possible for an intelligent man (or woman) to 
 abdicate entirely his own judgment, and to accept a thing
 
 i88oj OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 157 
 
 which he was not quite sure of because the church decided 
 it must be. I think we should have gone on indefinitely 
 with that conversation, never arriving at any solution, so 
 it was just as well that breakfast put a stop to it. 
 
 We went for a lovely drive in the afternoon, out of the 
 Porta del Popolo, across Ponte Molle, and then along the 
 river until we came to that rough country road, or lane, 
 leading across the fields where we have gone in so many 
 times on horseback, to the Villa Madama. We drove as 
 far as we could (almost to the gate) and then walked 
 up the hill to the Villa itself. There everything was quite 
 unchanged — the garden neglected, full of weeds, and 
 grass growing high. The oval stone basin was there 
 still, the sides covered with moss, and a few flowers com- 
 ing quite promiscuously out of walls, stones, etc. We 
 went into the loggia to see the paintings and frescoes, 
 all in good condition, and then sat some time on the ter- 
 race looking at the view, which was divine — everything 
 so soft in the distance, even the yellow Tiber looked sil- 
 very — at least I saw it so ; I don't know that W. did. He 
 generally finds it sluggish and muddy. We came home 
 by the Porta Angelica and drove through the Square of 
 St. Peter's. There are always people on the steps, not a 
 crowd of course as on fete days, but enough to give ani- 
 mation, priests, beggars, and the people lounging and 
 looking at whatever passes in the Square. It is so enor- 
 mous, the Piazza, when one sees it empty, one can hardly 
 realize what it used to be in the old days for the great 
 Easter ceremony when the Pope gave his blessing from 
 the balcony of St. Peter's. I can see it now, packed black 
 with people, the French soldiers with their red caps and 
 trousers making great patches of colour, and Montebello 
 (who commanded the French Armee d'Occupation in 
 Rome) with a brilliant staff in the centre of the Square —
 
 158 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 he and his black charger so absolutely motionless one 
 might have thought both horse and rider were cast in 
 bronze. There were all sorts of jokes and chattering in 
 the crowd until the first glimpse of the waving peacock 
 plumes, and banners, passing high, high up, and just 
 visible through the arches, showed that the Pope's proces- 
 sion was arriving on the balcony; and when at last one 
 saw distinctly the white figure as the old man was raised 
 high in his chair there was an absolute stillness in all that 
 great mass; every one knelt to receive the blessing, and 
 the Pope's voice rang out clear and strong (one could 
 hear every word). As soon as it was over cannon fired, 
 bells rang, and there fluttered down over the crowd a 
 quantity of little white papers (indulgences) which every 
 one tried to grasp. It was a magnificent cadre for such 
 a ceremony — the dome of St. Peter's towering above us 
 straight up into the blue sky, the steps crowded with 
 people, the red umbrellas of the peasants making a great 
 show, and women of all conditions and all nationalities 
 dressed in bright, gay colours; uniforms of all kinds, 
 monks and priests of every order ; the black of the priests 
 rather lost in all the colour of uniforms, costumes, etc. 
 The getting away was long — we might have had our car- 
 riage with the American cockade in one of the back courts 
 of the Vatican, but we wanted to see everything and come 
 home by the Ponte St. Angelo. It was a great show all 
 the way — the long line of carriages and pedestrians 
 streaming back to Rome, cut every now and then by a 
 detachment of troops. Everybody was cheered, from 
 Charette and his Zouaves to Montebello and his staff. 
 The crowd was in a good humour — it was a splendid day, 
 they had had a fine show, and politics and " foreign mer- 
 cenaries " were forgotten for the moment. Everybody 
 had a flower of some kind — the boys and young men In
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 159 
 
 their hats, the girls in their hair. One heard on all sides 
 " buona festa," " buona Pasqua." How we enjoyed it 
 all, particularly the first time, when we were fresh from 
 America and our principal idea of a fete was the 4th of 
 July. That seemed a magnificent thing in our childish 
 days, when we had friends on the lawn at Cherry Lawn, 
 a torch-light procession with a band (such a band) from 
 the town, and father's speech, standing at the top of 
 the steps and telling the boys that if they worked hard 
 and studied well, any one of them might become Presi- 
 dent of the United States, which statement of course was 
 always received with roars of applause. 
 
 We went back to the Piazza always at night to see the 
 " Girandola " fireworks, and there was almost the same 
 crowd waiting for the first silvery light to appear on the 
 facade of St. Peter's. It was marvellous to see the lines 
 of light spread all over the enormous mass of stone, run- 
 ning around all the cupolas and statues like a trail of 
 silver, in such quantities that the stone almost disap- 
 peared, and the church seemed made of light — quite beau- 
 tiful. The illumination lasted a long time — gold light 
 came after the silver, and I think it was perhaps more 
 striking when they began to go out one by one, leaving 
 great spaces in darkness — then one saw what an enor- 
 mous edifice it was. 
 
 I have written you a volume — but every turn here re- 
 calls old, happy days — " Roma com' era " — and I must 
 come back to the present and our farewell dinner at the 
 Noailles'. 
 
 We were a small party — all the French Embassy, the 
 Due de Ripalda, the Chilian Minister and his wife, Maf- 
 fel, Visconti Venosta, and Lanciani. W. and Noailles 
 retired to the fumoir and talked politics hard. We shall 
 soon be back in the thick of it now, and W. will take
 
 160 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 his place again in the Senate. It will seem funny to be 
 quietly settled in the rue Dumont d'Urville — riding in the 
 Bois in the morning and driving over to the Senate in 
 the afternoon, with the boy, to get W. Ripalda and 
 I had a long talk. He tells me he still holds the same 
 opinion about American women — they are the prettiest 
 and most attractive in the world. There is something 
 — he doesn't know what — that makes them different from 
 all the others. I asked him if he remembered Antoinette 
 Polk; to which he promptly replied, "Ah, qu'elle etait 
 belle — une deesse." I must tell her how she lives in his 
 old memory. I always find Noailles pleasant — so grand 
 seigneur. 
 
 We found all sorts of cards and invitations when we 
 came in, and a surprise for me from Father Smith which 
 pleased me greatly, a silver medal of Leo XIII. in a case. 
 It is about the size of a five-franc piece — rather larger if 
 anything, and so like, the small head, and fine, sharply 
 cut features, such a nice note, too, from Father Smith; 
 he was very glad to be able to offer me something which 
 he knew I would prize, and that it wasn't necessary to be 
 of the same religion to admire and appreciate a great in- 
 tellect and a good man. I am very proud of my two 
 pictures, and shall show them triumphantly to some of 
 my Catholic friends and relations who can't understand a 
 Protestant and a heretic caring for such souvenirs. 
 
 We can't accept any more dinners as we leave on Mon- 
 day, W. for Naples and I for Florence. I wanted very 
 much to go to Ostia, I should like W. to see that deso- 
 late, sandy shore with the pines coming down almost to 
 the water's edge, and the old castle rising up in the dis- 
 tance ; but it is an all-day excursion and we haven't time. 
 We will try and do Vei, which is an easy afternoon's 
 drive. I must stop now — W. is deep in Baedeker, look-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 161 
 
 ing out Ostia and Vei, and must also write a note to 
 Geoffroy about something they want to see to-morrow. 
 I shall go and see something with Gert. 
 
 Sunday, April 19, 1880. 
 Yesterday we had an enchanting day at Tivoli, W., 
 Gert and I. Schuyler was detained in Rome, much to 
 his disgust, on business. He loves a day in the country 
 and is most amusing to go about with. He talks to 
 everybody, priests, peasants, soldiers, and always gets 
 odd bits of information about old customs, legends, 
 family histories — all that makes the story of a nation. 
 Tomba gave us a light carriage and a pair of strong 
 horses (our little ones were not up to the long day). 
 We started at 8 in the morning and didn't get back until 
 8.30. There is a steam tram now all the way out but we 
 preferred driving, as we wanted to stop at Hadrian's 
 Villa. We went out by Porta San Lorenzo, crossed the 
 Arno (the river which makes the falls of Tivoli) at Ponte 
 Mammolo, and had a good two hours' drive (rather 
 more, in fact) to Hadrian's Villa. I didn't find that part 
 of the Campagna very interesting (it was much finer 
 after one left the Villa). We left the carriage at the en- 
 trance of a sort of lane (one doesn't see much before get- 
 ting actually inside) between high banks covered with 
 every description of vine and creepers ; and wild flowers 
 and weeds in a tangle at our feet (it was really difficult 
 walking sometimes), and found ourselves in an open 
 space, with ruins in every direction — a half-crumbling 
 wall, weeds choking it up ; part of a theatre with broken 
 columns and steps, a few bits of mosaic but not much 
 colour of any kind ; some bas-reliefs very well preserved ; 
 but one felt that everything of value had been taken away,
 
 1 62 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 and what was left was so hidden in long grass and weeds 
 that it was difficult to understand all the former magnifi- 
 cence of the famous Villa. 
 
 The custode was most conscientious, explained every- 
 thing — the arena, theatre, baths, temples, etc., but my 
 impression was a mass of grey, broken bits of stones and 
 columns. There were one or two splendid stone pines 
 standing up straight and tall, looking like guardians of 
 past splendour, and in every direction the crooked little 
 grey-green olive trees and fields full of flowers. Gert and 
 I sat on the wall in a shady corner, while W. and the cus- 
 tode went off some little distance to look at a fountain, and 
 we were not sorry to have the rest. The last part of the 
 drive, winding up the hill to Tivoli, was beautiful — such 
 splendid views all the time, either toward Rome (St. 
 Peter's standing out, a faint blue dome at the end of the 
 long, flat plains of the Campagna; or on the other side 
 the Sabine Hills, Soracte, Frascati, etc.). 
 
 We went straight to the little old hotel of the Sybilla, 
 which looks exactly the same as in our day, and ordered 
 breakfast. We were quite ready for it, having had 
 our " petit dejeuner " at 7.30. The padrone said he 
 wanted half an hour to prepare it, as the regular table- 
 d'hote was over. Of course the railway tourists got out 
 much quicker than we did and we met them all over the 
 place, when we went out to see the famous Temple of 
 Vesta. It is perched on the top of the cliff, looking as 
 if it would take very little to precipitate it into the mass 
 of rushing, leaping water tumbling itself over the rocks 
 far below at our feet. We had a very good breakfast, 
 capital trout for which Tivoli is famous, and a most talka- 
 tive landlord who came to superintend the meal and give 
 us any information we wanted. He said we must have 
 donkeys to make the " giro," which would take us about
 
 ,88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 163 
 
 two hours, and we could finish at the Villa d'Este, where 
 the carriage would come and get us. 
 
 We walked about a little in the town after breakfast 
 through narrow, dirty streets with curious old bits of 
 architecture, and into the church, or cathedral as they 
 grandly call it, of San Francesco; but there was really 
 nothing to see ; and at two we started for our tournee to 
 the grottoes of Neptune and the Sirena. We all walked 
 at first, two donkeys with the usual pretty little black- 
 eyed boys at their heads following (W. of course 
 wouldn't have a donkey but took a cane which the 
 padrone of the Sybilla strongly recommended as the steps 
 going down to the grotto were steep and slippery). I 
 wondered how the donkeys would get on, but made no 
 remarks as I knew I could always get off. We walked 
 through the little town under a nice old arch and up a 
 path which was pleasant enough at first, but when we 
 wound round the side of the hill Gert and I were glad 
 to mount our beasts as the sun was very hot and 
 there wasn't an atom of shade. It was a beautiful ex- 
 cursion, always something to see — ruins of old castles, 
 temples, gateways — so much really that one couldn't take 
 in details. From certain " points de vue " the Temple of 
 Vesta seemed almost standing on air — one lost the cliff, 
 which disappeared in a sort of mist. As soon as we 
 began to go down the noise of the rushing water was 
 quite overpowering; we couldn't hear ourselves speak, 
 and the glimpses we had of the quantities of little 
 falls leaping over big rocks and stones were quite en- 
 chanting. 
 
 Our little donkeys were perfectly sure-footed and the 
 path good though steep. We dismounted before getting 
 quite down to the grottoes and the steps certainly were 
 rough and slippery. The guide took charge of Gert, and
 
 1 64 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 I followed in W.'s wake very carefully. It was icy cold 
 when we got all the way down. I am generally imper- 
 vious to that sort of thing, but I felt the cold strike me 
 and didn't stay long. The chill passed entirely as soon 
 as we came out and began the ascent, leaving the dark, 
 deep pool behind us. 
 
 The road back was, if possible, more beautiful; great 
 ravines with olive trees half way down their sides, moun- 
 tain streams in every direction making countless little 
 cataracts, all dancing and sparkling in the sun — rocks 
 covered with bright green moss, and fields carpeted with 
 wild flowers. The guide pointed out various ruins — the 
 Villa of Maecenas — a great square mass on the top of 
 a hill — but we didn't care to make a long detour to go 
 up to it. We were quite satisfied with all the natural 
 beauty we saw around us — one old bridge, the arches 
 covered with moss and flowers, and every now and then 
 through the olive trees one had glimpses of arches, col- 
 umns, temples — quite beautiful. The only drawback was 
 the Cook's tourists who were riding and walking and 
 talking all over the place, making jokes with the guides 
 and speaking the most execrable Italian. However they 
 had already done the Villa d'Este, so we lost them there, 
 which was a relief. 
 
 The Villa was enchanting after the heat and glare of 
 the road, and at first we sat quite quietly on a grassy bank 
 and enjoyed the thick shade of the enormous cypresses. 
 The custode was very anxious we should make the classic 
 tour with him but we told him we knew the place — it 
 was by no means our first visit. I explained to him in 
 Italian that I was a " vecchia Romana " (old Roman), 
 to which he replied with true Italian gallantry, "non tanto 
 vecchia — son to vecchio " (no, not at all old — I am old), 
 and old he was, his face all yellow and wrinkled like the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 165 
 
 peasants who live on the Campagna and are poisoned with 
 malaria. 
 
 I should think, though, the Villa d'Este was healthy, 
 it stands so high. It is almost uninhabited, belongs now 
 to Cardinal Hohenlohe, but they tell me he never lives 
 there, never sleeps — comes out for the day from Rome 
 and goes back at night. It is sometimes let to foreigners. 
 The garden is quite beautiful, perfectly wild and neg- 
 lected but a wealth of trees, fountains, statues, terraces 
 — it might be made a paradise with a little care. There 
 are few flowers (like most Italian gardens) except those 
 that grow quite wild. There is still the same great arch 
 at one end of the terrace which just frames a stretch of 
 Campagna, making a beautiful picture. 
 
 We had a delicious hour wandering about, stopping to 
 rest every now and then, and sitting on some old bit of 
 wall or column — no one there but ourselves and not a 
 sound except the splashing water of the fountains. W. 
 was delighted, and we were very sorry to leave. The 
 afternoon light was so beautiful, penetrating through the 
 black cypress avenue, however, we had a long drive back, 
 longer even than coming, as we wanted to make a detour 
 to look at the sulphur lakes. Our coachman was evi- 
 dently anxious to leave. We heard an animated parley at 
 the gate of the Villa, and the custode appeared to say 
 the carriage was there and the coachman said it was 
 time to start if we wanted to get back to Rome before 
 nightfall. I think he didn't want to be too late on the 
 road. 
 
 It was still warm when we started back, but we hadn't 
 gone very far when it changed completely and I was very 
 glad to put on my jacket and a shawl over it. It is a 
 long, barren stretch of Campagna toward the sulphur 
 lakes; one smelt the sulphur some time before arriving.
 
 1 66 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 They were not particularly interesting, looked like big, 
 stagnant ponds, with rather yellowish water. Our man 
 was decidedly uncomfortable. The road was absolutely 
 lonely — not a person nor a vehicle of any kind in sight, 
 the long straight road before us, and the desolate plains 
 of the Campagna on each side. He fidgeted on his box, 
 looked nervously from side to side, whipped up his horses, 
 until at last W. asked him what was the matter, what was 
 he afraid of. " Nothing, nothing, but it was late. We 
 were strangers and one never could be quite sure what 
 one would meet." It was not very reassuring, and when 
 we saw once or twice a figure looming up in the distance, 
 a man or two men on horseback, who might be shepherds 
 or who might be bandits, we were not very comfortable 
 either ; we semed to feel suddenly that it was getting dark, 
 that we were alone in a very lonely road in a strange 
 country, and we didn't mind at all when the coachman 
 urged his horses to a quick gallop, and got over the ground 
 as fast as he could. 
 
 We didn't say much until the little twinkling lights of 
 the first " osterias " began to show themselves, and as 
 we got nearer Rome and met the long lines of carts and 
 peasants, some walking, some riding, we felt better and 
 agreed that it wasn't pleasant to feel afraid, particularly 
 a vague fear that didn't take shape. 
 
 When we drew up at the door of the hotel, after having 
 deposited Gert at her Palazzo, we asked the coachman 
 what he had been afraid of — was there any danger ; to 
 which he (safe on his box in the Piazza di Spagna) re- 
 plied with a magnificent gesture that a Roman didn't 
 know what fear meant, but he saw the ladies were ner- 
 vous. It seems absurd now this morning, sitting at the 
 window with the Piazza full of people, that we should 
 have felt so uncomfortable. I asked W. if he was ner-
 
 *88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 167 
 
 vous. He said rather, for from the moment of starting 
 he saw the coachman didn't want to take the side-road 
 to the sulphur lakes, which was certainly wild and lonely, 
 also that he was most anxious to get on. If the carriage 
 had been merely stopped to rob us it would have been 
 very disagreeable as we had no means of defence, nothing 
 but our parasols, and of course nobody near to come to 
 our rescue. I don't think our Giuseppe would have made 
 a very vigorous resistance. After all, adventures do hap- 
 pen, and it would have been unpleasant to return to Paris 
 minus one ear or one finger or any other souvenir of a 
 sojourn in a bandit camp. 
 
 As we didn't get home until nearly nine I proposed no 
 dinner, but " high tea " upstairs in our salon. W. de- 
 murred at first, like all men he loathes that meal dear to 
 the female mind, but upon reflection thought it would 
 be best. The gerant came up to speak about some boxes 
 we want to send to Paris direct from here, and we told 
 him of our return and the coachman's evident terror. 
 He said he could quite understand it, that it was a very 
 lonely, unfrequented bit of road leading to the sulphur 
 lakes, and that we had chosen our time badly; all the 
 tourists went first to the lakes before going to Tivoli, and 
 it would have been a temptation to some of the wlid shep- 
 herds and Campagna peasants to stop the carriage and in- 
 sist upon having money or jewels. He didn't think there 
 was any danger to our lives, nor even to our ears. They 
 wouldn't have made much of a haul — I had no jewels of 
 any kind, except my big pearl earrings — and W. very lit- 
 tle money — three or four hundred francs. It was a dis- 
 agieeable experience, all the same. I don't like being 
 afraid, and I was. We went a swinging pace for about 
 three-quarters of an hour — the horses on a good quick 
 gallop.
 
 1 68 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 I went to church this morning. It is a nice walk from 
 here and the day is enchanting — warm, but just air 
 enough to make exercise pleasant. W. was off early with 
 Geoffroy. They put off yesterday's excursion until to- 
 day, as W. was very anxious to see Tivoli. 
 
 The trunks are being packed, the gerant apparently 
 superintending operations, as I hear a great deal of con- 
 versation in the anteroom. Madame Hubert has an ex- 
 traordinary faculty for getting all she wants — an excel- 
 lent quality in a travelling maid. As you know she is 
 very pretty, which again carries out my favourite theory 
 that beauty is the most important gift for a woman. I 
 daresay it won't bear discussion, and I ought to say 
 " goodness," but my experience points the other way. I 
 have so often heard father quote Madame de Stael (who 
 was very kind to him when he was a young man in Paris) 
 who, at the very height of her triumph as the great 
 woman's intelligence of her time, said to him one evening 
 at a big party in Paris, looking at Madame Recamier, 
 who was beautiful, and surrounded by all that was most 
 distinguished and brilliant in the room, " Je donnerai 
 toute mon intelligence pour avoir sa beaute." 
 
 I am so sorry to go — though of course I shall be glad 
 to see you all, but we have enjoyed ourselves so much. 
 I wonder when I shall see it all again, and I also wonder 
 what makes the great charm of Rome. It appeals to so 
 many people of perfectly different tastes. W. has been 
 perfectly happy and interested (and in many things, not 
 only in inscriptions and antiquities) and I am sure such 
 an absolute change of life and scenes was the best rest he 
 could have after the very fatiguing life of the last two 
 years.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 169 
 
 Sunday, April 19, 1880, 10 o'clock. 
 
 We have just come in from our farewell dinner with 
 Gert, our last in Rome, or rather my last. I go to Flor- 
 ence to-morrow morning, but W. stays on till Tues- 
 day. He is going to dine at the Wimpffens to-morrow 
 night with some colleagues and political people. He has 
 stopped downstairs to finish his cigar and give direc- 
 tions about some books he wants sent to Paris, and I 
 will finish this letter. I have nothing to do — the trunks 
 are all packed, some already downstairs, and the salon 
 looks quite bare and uncomfortable, notwithstanding some 
 flowers which Mrs. Bruce and Trocchi have sent for 
 good-bye. 
 
 Gert and I had a nice afternoon. It was so beautiful 
 that we went for a last drive in the country, and i shall 
 carry away a last summer impression almost, all blue 
 sky, bright flowers, deep shadows, and a warm light over 
 everything. It is wonderful how the Campagna changes 
 — almost from day to day (not only with the change of 
 seasons), quite like the ocean. To-day, for instance, was 
 enchanting, the air soft and mild, a smell of fresh earth 
 and flowers everywhere, the old towers and tombs stand- 
 ing well out, rising out of a mass of high grass and wild 
 flowers, and taking a soft pink colour in the warm sun- 
 light — so clear that one could see a great distance — 
 and all the little villages made white spots on the hills. 
 It is quite different from the winter Campagna, which 
 stretches away — miles of barren, desolate plains; the 
 rocks look quite bare, the hills are shrouded in mist, and 
 one has a feeling of solitude and of dead nature which is 
 curious. I suppose history and all the old legends work 
 upon the imagination and incline us to idealize the most 
 ordinary surroundings; but there are always the long
 
 170 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 lines of ruined aqueducts, the square, massive towers, 
 and great memorial stones that one comes upon in most 
 unexpected places; and an extraordinary feeling of a 
 great dead past which I don't think one has anywhere 
 else. 
 
 We passed through the Piazza Montanara, and by the 
 old theatre of Marcellus on our way out. I wanted to 
 see the little, dark, dirty corner I was always so fond of. 
 The fruit-stall was still there, jammed up against the 
 wall, half hidden by the great stones, remains of bal- 
 conies, and arched windows that jut out from the great 
 black mass — all that remains of the once famous theatre. 
 The piazza was very full — peasants, donkeys, boys selling 
 fruit and drinks, and in one corner the " scrivano " (pub- 
 lic letter-writer) with his rickety little old table, pen, 
 paper, and ink, waiting for any one who needed his ser- 
 vices. Thirty years ago, it seems, he did a flourishing 
 trade, Sundays particularly, arid there would be a long 
 string of people patiently waiting their turn. Much 
 chaffing and commenting when some pretty girl appeared, 
 smiling and blushing, wanting to have a letter writ- 
 ten to her sweetheart away with his regiment in foreign 
 parts or high up on some of the hills with his sheep 
 or cattle. To-day there was hardly any one — a wrinkled 
 old woman dictating something about a soldier and ap- 
 parently not making it very clear, as the writer (not the 
 classic old man with a long beard, but a youth) seemed 
 decidedly impatient. We had quite time to take it all 
 in, as the people (donkeys too) were all standing in the 
 middle of the street and didn't hurry themselves at all to 
 move apart and let the carriage pass. We were evidently 
 near the " Ghetto," as we saw some fine types of Jewish 
 women, tall, handsome creatures, carrying themselves 
 very well ; quite unlike the men, who were a dirty, hard-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 171 
 
 featured lot, creeping along with that cringing, depreca- 
 tory manner which seems inherent in the race. 
 
 We crossed the bridge and drove through part of the 
 Trastevere, which certainly looked remarkably dark and 
 uninviting on this lovely summer afternoon. There are 
 of course fine buildings, churches, and old palaces, some 
 half tumbling down, and all black with dirt and age. 
 The streets were dirty, the children (quantities of them 
 playing in the streets) dirty and unkempt ; clothes of all 
 kinds were hanging out of the windows, falling over 
 sculptured balconies and broken statues, in what had been 
 stately palaces — every now and then flowers in a broken 
 vase. There were some fine old arched gateways with a 
 rope across on which clothes and rags were drying, and 
 dreadful old men and women sitting under them on dirty 
 benches and broken chairs. There was a smell (not to 
 use a stronger word) of dirt and stale things, fruit and 
 vegetables, also a little " frittura," which one always per- 
 ceives in the people's quarter in Rome. I had forgotten 
 how wretched it all was, and we were glad to get away 
 from the smells and the dirt and find ourselves on the road 
 along the river which leads to Ponte Molle. It was too 
 late to think of Vei, but we drove some distance along 
 the road. The Campagna looked quite beautiful, and 
 every group we passed a picture in the soft evening light. 
 Sometimes a woman with a baby on her shoulder (the 
 child with a red cap) standing well out against the sky — 
 sometimes one or two shepherds on their shaggy moun- 
 tain ponies seeming quite close to us, but really far away 
 on the plains (always wrapped in their long cloaks, 
 though it was a summer evening). Every now and then 
 a merry band of girls and soldiers. The " bersaglieri " 
 with their long feathers and the girls with bright, striped 
 skirts swinging along at a great pace, always singing and
 
 172 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 laughing ; of course the inevitable old woman carrying a 
 heavy load of fagots or dried grass on her poor bent 
 back; and equally of course the man with her lounging 
 along, a cigar in his mouth and hands in his pockets, evi- 
 dently thinking that to carry a heavy burden was " lavoro 
 di donna." Poor old women! I daresay they hardly 
 remember that they were once straight, active girls, sing- 
 ing and dancing in the sunlight with no thought of old 
 age nor fears for the future. 
 
 As soon as we crossed the bridge going back there 
 were many more people on the road. There are " os- 
 terias," gardens, and small vineyards on each side of the 
 road almost up to the Porta del Popolo, and as it was 
 Sunday, the whole population was abroad. Many of the 
 women carry their babies perched on their shoulders (not 
 in their arms) and steady them with one hand. The 
 little creatures, their black heads just showing out of the 
 sort of bag or tight bands they are wrapped in, look quite 
 contented — some of them asleep. 
 
 We went up to the Pincio, to have a last look at St. 
 Peter's and the Doria pines before the sun went down. 
 There were few people ; it was late, and we had the ter- 
 race to ourselves. The dome stood out, quite purple, 
 against a clear blue sky, and seemed almost resting on the 
 clouds. There was a slight mist, which detached it from 
 the mass of buildings. Rome hardly existed — we only 
 saw the dome. I was sorry W. was not there to have 
 that last beautiful picture in his mind. Del Monte, who 
 was also lingering on the terrace, joined us and said he 
 would walk back with me along the terrace of the Villa 
 Medici, so I sent Gert back to her palazzo in the carriage 
 and he and I strolled along and talked over old times ; 
 so many recollections of things done together — rides on 
 the Campagna, hours of music of all kinds, particularly
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 173 
 
 at the Villa Marconi at Frascati. I asked him if he 
 had ever gone back there since we left. The villa was 
 often let to forestieri. One year there was an English 
 family there, father, mother, one son, and eight daughters. 
 They used to go about always in three carriages. He 
 said he had never known any one there since us. He re- 
 membered so well all the music we did in the big room. 
 When it was a fine night all the mezzo ceto (petite bour- 
 geoisie) who were in " villegiatura " at Frascati would 
 congregate under our windows, whenever we were sing- 
 ing and playing. If they liked our music they applauded ; 
 if they didn't (which happened sometimes, when the 
 strains were not melodious enough) they were too polite 
 to express disapproval, and would remain perfectly silent. 
 We used to hear them singing and whistling our songs 
 when they went home. We amused ourselves often try- 
 ing them with music they couldn't possibly know — plan- 
 tation songs or amateur music which had never been 
 published. We would sing them one evening; the next 
 they would come back and sing all our songs perfectly 
 well (no words, of course). They had an extraordinary 
 musical facility. Often when we stopped, or on some of 
 the rare occasions when we didn't do any music, they 
 would sing some of their songs — many of them ending 
 on a long, sustained note quite charming. 
 
 It was pleasant to recall all the " tempi passati." We 
 lingered a few moments at the top of the Spanish Steps, 
 quite deserted at this hour of the evening, and when he 
 left me at the door of the hotel I had barely time to talk 
 a little to W. before dressing for dinner. He was rather 
 wondering what had become of me. He had had a de- 
 lightful afternoon with his friends. They had walked 
 along the banks of the Tiber on the way to Ostia. He 
 says there are all sorts of interesting things to be found
 
 i 7 4 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 there — tombs, bits of Roman wall and pavements, traces 
 of old quays, and subterraneous passages all mixed up 
 with modern improvements. The City of Rome is spend- 
 ing a great deal of money in building new quays, bridges, 
 etc., on a most elaborate and expensive scale. I should 
 think the sluggish old Tiber would hardly know itself 
 flowing between such energetic, busy banks. 
 
 They drove out for some distance on the road to Ostia, 
 but only got as far as the Monte di San Paolo (I think), 
 from where they had a fine view of the sea, and the pine 
 forests. I am sorry they hadn't time to go on, but we 
 must leave something for the next time. I wonder when 
 it will be. 
 
 Gert's dinner was pleasant — Mrs. Bruce, Comte Palfy, 
 Father Smith, and Mr. Hooker. They all talked hard. 
 Mr. Hooker has lived so many years in Rome that he 
 has seen all its transformations; says the present busy, 
 brilliant capital is so unlike the old Rome of his days that 
 he can hardly believe it is the same place. It is incred- 
 ible that a whole city should have lived so many years in 
 such absolute submission to the Papal Government. In 
 those days there were only two newspapers, each re- 
 vised at the Vatican and nothing allowed to appear in 
 either that wasn't authorized by the papal court ; also the 
 government exercised a paternal right over the jeunesse 
 doree, and when certain fair ladies with yellow hair and 
 elaborate costumes appeared in the Villa Borghese, or on 
 the Pincio, exciting great admiration in all the young 
 men of the place (and filling the mammas and wives with 
 horror) , it was merely necessary to make a statement to 
 the Vatican. The dangerous stranger was instantly 
 warned that she must cross the frontier. 
 
 Palfy, too, remembered Rome in the old days, when 
 the long drive along the Riviera in an old-fashioned trav-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 175 
 
 elling carriage (before railways were known in these 
 parts) was a thing planned and arranged months before- 
 hand — one such journey was made in a life-time. He 
 said the little villages where they stopped were something 
 awful ; not the slightest idea of modern comfort or clean- 
 liness. The ladies travelled with a retinue of servants, 
 taking with them sheets, mattresses, washing materials 
 (there was a large heavy silver basin and jug which 
 always travelled with his family) and batterie de cuisine; 
 also very often a doctor, as one was afraid of fever 
 or a bad chill, as of course any heating apparatus was 
 most primitive. The Italians sat in the sun all day 
 and went to bed when it was dark and cold. One saw 
 the country and the people much better in that way. 
 Now we fly through at night in an express train, and the 
 Rome we see to-day might be Paris, Vienna, or any mod- 
 ern capital. I mean, of course, inside the walls. As soon 
 as one gets out of the gates and on the Campagna one 
 feels as if by instinct all the dead past of the great city. 
 
 I told them that in our time, when we lived one sum- 
 mer in the Villa Marconi at Frascati, the arrangements 
 were most primitive. The palace was supposed to be 
 furnished, but as the furniture consisted chiefly of marble 
 statues, benches, and baths — also a raised garden on a 
 level with the upper rooms, opening out of the music- 
 room, the door behind an enormous white marble statue 
 of some mythological celebrity — it didn't seem very hab- 
 itable to our practical American minds. There were 
 beds and one or two wash-stands, also curtains in one 
 room, but as for certain intimate domestic arrangements 
 they didn't exist ; and when we ventured to suggest that 
 they were indispensable to our comfort we were told, " I 
 principi romani non domandono altro " (Roman princes 
 don't ask for anything more).
 
 I76 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 Heavens, how funny all the pourparlers were. Fanny * 
 did all the talking, as we were still too new to the 
 language to embark upon a business conversation. Her 
 mother, who was an excellent maitresse de maison, gave 
 all the directions, which were most particular and de- 
 tailed, as she was very anxious we should be comforta- 
 ble, and very doubtful as to the resources of the estab- 
 lishment. The agent was visibly agace and impatient. 
 Fanny had on a pair of tortoise-shell star ear-rings, 
 and the man told one of our friends afterward that 
 "quella piccola colle stellette " (the young girl with the 
 little stars) was a real " diavolo." It was funny to 
 hear her beginning every sentence " Dice la signora " 
 (madame says), and saying exactly what her mother 
 told her ; the mother, standing near, understanding every 
 word, though she couldn't say anything, and looking hard 
 at the agent. He understood her, too. However, we 
 didn't get any more than the Roman princes had, and 
 made our own arrangements as well as we could, having 
 out a large van of furniture of all kinds from Rome. 
 
 Hooker remembered it all well, as he found the house 
 for us and had many misgivings as to how we should get 
 along. He was always keeping us straight in a financial 
 point of view, as even then, before the days of the enor- 
 mous American fortunes, Americans were careless about 
 money, and didn't mind paying, and paying well, for 
 what they wanted. In those days, too, it was rather 
 cheap living in Italy, and we were so surprised often by 
 the prices of the mere necessaries of life that we couldn't 
 help expressing our astonishment freely. Poor Hooker 
 was much disgusted. " You might as well ask them to 
 cheat you." We learned better, however, later, particu- 
 
 * Miss Fanny King, daughter of General Rufus King, United States 
 Minister to the Vatican, now Mrs. Edward Ward.
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 177 
 
 larly after several visits to Naples, where the first price 
 asked for anything was about five times as much as the 
 vender expected to get. " Le tout c'est de savoir." 
 
 Father Smith and W. got on swimmingly. It is too 
 funny to see them together. The father's brogue is de- 
 lightful and comes out strong whenever he talks about 
 anything that interests him. He has such a nice twinkle, 
 too, in his eye when he tells an Irish story or makes a 
 little joke. I must say I am very sorry to go. It has 
 been a real pleasure to be back again in Rome and to take 
 up so many threads of my old life. I find Italians de- 
 lightful to live with; they are so absolutely natural and 
 unsnobbish — no pose of any kind; not that they under- 
 rate themselves and their great historic names, but they 
 are so simple and sure of themselves that a pose would 
 never occur to them. Father Smith asked us a great deal 
 about the German Crown Princess. He had never seen 
 her, but had the greatest admiration for her character and 
 intelligence — " a worthy daughter of her great mother " 
 — thought it a pity that such a woman couldn't have re- 
 mained in her own country, though he didn't see very 
 well how it could have been managed. He doesn't at 
 all approve of royal princesses marrying subjects. I 
 think he is right — certainly democratic princes are a mis- 
 take. There should always be an idea of state — ermine 
 and royal purple — connected with royalties. I remem- 
 ber quite well my disappointment at the first sovereign 
 I saw. It was the Emperor of Austria coming out of his 
 palace at Vienna. We had been loitering about, sight- 
 seeing, and as we passed the Hof-Burg evident tourists, 
 some friendly passers-by told us to stop a moment and 
 we would see the Emperor, who was just driving out of 
 the gates. When I saw a victoria with a pair of horses 
 drive out with two gentlemen in very simple uniform, one
 
 178 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 bowing mechanically to the few people who were waiting, 
 I was distinctly disappointed. I don't suppose I expected 
 to see a monarch arrayed in ermine robes, with a crown 
 on his head and a sceptre in his hand, but all the same it 
 was a disillusion. Of course when one sees them at 
 court, or at some great function, with brilliant uniforms, 
 grand cordon, and diamond stars, they are more impos- 
 ing. I don't know, though, whether that does make a 
 difference. Do you remember one of A.'s stories? He 
 was secretary to the British Embassy at Washington, and 
 at one of the receptions at the White House (which 
 are open receptions — all the world can go) all the corps 
 diplomatique were present in the full glory of ribbons 
 and plaques. He heard some one in the crowd saying, 
 " What are all these men dressed up in gold lace and 
 coloured ribbons? " The answer came after a moment's 
 reflection, " I guess it's the band." 
 
 I don't think I can write any more to-night. I seem 
 to be rambling on without anything much to say. If I 
 could tell you all I am doing it would be much pleas- 
 anter. A pen seems to paralyze me and I feel a mantle 
 of dulness settle down on me as soon as I take one in my 
 hand. You will have to let me talk hard the first three 
 or four days after I get home, and be the good listener 
 you always are to your children. 
 
 It is a beautiful bright night, the sky almost as blue 
 as in the day, and myriads of stars. The piazza is quite 
 deserted. It is early, not yet 10.40, but the season is 
 over, all the forestieri gone, and Rome is sinking back 
 into its normal state of sleepiness and calm. How many 
 times I have looked out on the piazza on just such a night 
 (from Casa Pierret, our old house just next door) ! It 
 is the one place that hasn't changed in Rome. I almost 
 feel as if I must go to bed at once, so as to be up early
 
 OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 179 
 
 and in my habit for a meet at Cecilia Metella to-morrow 
 morning. I do start to-morrow, but not very early — at 
 ten. I have a line from Mary Bunsen this evening saying 
 they will meet me at the station in Florence to-morrow. 
 I shall arrive for dinner. I am half sorry now I didn't 
 decide to go to Naples, after all. The weather is divine, 
 and I should have liked to have another look at that 
 beautiful bay, with its blue dancing water, and Capri and 
 Ischia in the distance. We had had visions of Sicily, 
 prolonging our stay another fortnight, but W. is rather 
 worrying now to get home. He had a letter from Rich- 
 ard yesterday, telling him to be sure and come back for 
 the Conseil General. 
 
 There were two amusing articles in the papers the 
 other day, one saying M. Waddington had been charged 
 by the French Government with a delicate and confiden- 
 tial mission to the Pope ; two days after, in another paper, 
 a denial and most vicious attack on W., saying M. Wad- 
 dington had evidently inspired the first article himself, 
 that he had been charged with no mission of any kind, 
 and they knew from private sources that he would not 
 even be received by the Pope. I daresay a great many 
 people believe both. W. naturally doesn't care — doesn't 
 pay the least attention to what any paper says. I am 
 getting hardened, too, though the process has been longer 
 with me. I don't mind a good vicious article from an 
 opposition paper — that is " de bonne guerre " — but the 
 little perfidious insinuations of the so-called friendly sheets 
 which one can't notice (and which always leave a trace) 
 are very irritating. 
 
 W. has just come up. He lingered talking in the 
 smoking-room with two Englishmen who have just ar- 
 rived from Brindisi, and were full of India and all " the 
 muddles our government is making," asking him if he
 
 180 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 wasn't disgusted as an Englishman at all the mistakes 
 and stupidities they were making out there. They were 
 so surprised when he said that he wasn't an Englishman 
 that it was funny; and when he added that he was a 
 Frenchman they really didn't know what he meant. He 
 didn't explain his personality (I suppose the man of the 
 hotel enlightened them afterward), but stayed on talking, 
 as the men were clever and had seen a great deal. They 
 had made a long tour in India, and said the country was 
 most interesting. The ruins — also modern palaces — on 
 such a gigantic scale. 
 
 Well, dear, I really must finish now. My next letter 
 will be from Florence. We shall stop at Milan and 
 Turin, but not very long, I fancy, unless W. finds mar- 
 vels in the way of coins at Milan. I am quite sad to think 
 I shan't look out on the piazza to-morrow night. I think 
 after all these years I still hold to my original opinion 
 that, the Corso is the finest street and the Tiber the finest 
 river in the world. 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 Milan, Hotel de Ville, 
 Thursday, May 6, 1880. 
 
 Here we are, dearest mother, almost home — only 26 
 hours from Paris — so if we are suddenly called back (and 
 I earnestly hope we shan't be) we can start at once. We 
 made our journey most comfortably yesterday, though 
 it was long. We left Florence at 9 in the morning and 
 didn't get here until nearly 8. The Bunsens came with 
 us to the station. I begged them not to at such an 
 early hour but they didn't mind. It would have been 
 nice to stay longer. They have just taken their villa 
 on for another month. Their gardener at Meingeniigen
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 181 
 
 wrote them that it was snowing and a cold wind — hor- 
 rid weather; so they instantly decided to stay on an- 
 other month. My belle-mere is delicate and never could 
 have stood a cold, northern spring after this beautiful 
 month of April here. They tried to tempt us with all 
 sorts of excursions — Vallombrosa, Pisa (which I should 
 like to see again, I have such a vivid recollection of the 
 Campo Santo and some of the extraordinary tombs, 
 wide square courts and painted windows). I don't re- 
 member if it was there or at Genoa, where we saw such 
 elaborate modern monuments; the marble carved and 
 draped in the most curious manner — a widow kneeling 
 at her husband's tomb, her skirts all embroidered and 
 carved so finely, like lace, and a lace veil — really extraor- 
 dinary. 
 
 We found a long train at the station — the night express 
 from Rome. The prefet had kept a compartment for 
 us, and Ubaldino Peruzzi, the former sindaco, a great 
 friend of W.'s, went with us as far as Pistoja. Minghetti 
 was on the train, and he came into our compartment for 
 about an hour, but then adjourned to his own carriage as 
 he was composing a great political speech he makes at 
 Bologna to-night. They are all much excited over the 
 elections, which take place Sunday week, so their time 
 is short. Minghetti has lived and fought through so 
 many phases of Italian history that he is most interesting. 
 They say his memory is extraordinary — so accurate. He 
 never forgets a face or a speech. He says whenever he 
 has an important speech to make he goes for a drive 
 or a long walk — the movement helps him. W. is just 
 the contrary. His great speeches (and they were not 
 many) have always been composed sitting in his big arm- 
 chair smoking the beloved old cherry-wood pipe Segur 
 brought him from Jersey. When he had got his speech
 
 1 82 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 quite in his head, he wrote it, and then it went straight on 
 — never a correction or an erasure. I asked Minghetti if 
 he was nervous. He said not in the least — he was always 
 ready for the fray, and the more he was interrupted the 
 better he spoke, as that proved they were listening to him. 
 
 I remember so well one of the first days I went to the 
 Assemblee Nationale years ago. Somebody was speak- 
 ing — apparently well — on some question of the day, and 
 nobody was listening. The deputies were walking about, 
 talking, writing letters, just as if there was nothing go- 
 ing on. I looked down to see if W. was listening, but 
 he was talking cheerfully to Leon Say. It seemed to me 
 incredible that the orator could continue under such cir- 
 cumstances, but W. explained it to me. He was speak- 
 ing for his electors in the country and for the " Journal 
 Offtciel," which would publish his speech in extenso the 
 next day. 
 
 It was most interesting making the journey with these 
 gentlemen as they had their history at their finger ends. 
 All that part of the country had been so fought over — 
 oceans of blood shed in the fierce struggle against Aus- 
 trian tyranny — particularly as we got near Milan. It 
 seems incredible what a hard iron rule theirs was — 
 especially if one knows Austria and the Austrians a little. 
 They seem such an easy-going, happy people. All their 
 little villages look clean and prosperous, the peasants 
 cheerful and singing and civil to all strangers and trav- 
 ellers. 
 
 The country we passed through to-day looked green 
 and smiling, but their idea of work is still primitive, even 
 in Northern Italy. Wherever we passed the people in 
 the fields all stopped and looked at the train — many came 
 running up the bank. If they do that for every train 
 they must lose a considerable amount of time. We were
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 183 
 
 very sorry when our companions departed, but at every 
 station almost Minghetti met friends, and it was evident 
 that he had his head full of politics. It is a long time 
 since I have met any one so interesting. It is such a 
 quick intelligence and he touches every subject so lightly, 
 apparently, only one feels he knows all about it. 
 
 We made a fair stop at the Bologna station and had a 
 very good breakfast. It recalled so vividly old times and 
 our first journeys to Rome. Even the buffet looked ex- 
 actly the same. I could have sworn there was the same 
 " fricandeau de veau." The buffet was crowded — it seems 
 there were a lot of Indian officers arriving with their fami- 
 lies from Brindisi, with dark turbaned servants and ayahs 
 always in white. However the Indian nurses didn't look 
 so miserable as they used to in winter when we first made 
 the journey down. They were rather bewildered all the 
 same in such a jostling, hurrying crowd. It is funny to 
 see how they cling to their charges, holding the babies 
 tight with one hand and guiding one or two others half 
 hidden in their long white draperies, with the other. I 
 am sure they are excellent, faithful nurses. 
 
 Our last days in Florence were very full. Tuesday was 
 the day of the races — bright, beautiful weather — and we 
 drove out to see the retour, stationing ourselves at the 
 entrance of the Cascine until 7 o'clock. There was not 
 much to see in the way of equipages — nothing like the 
 Roman turn-outs — but there were some pretty women. 
 The Comtesse Mirafiori (nee Larderel), I daresay you 
 will remember the name, was about the prettiest. Her 
 victoria was very well appointed, handsome horses step- 
 ping perfectly ; and she looked a picture, all in white with 
 a big hat turned up with dark blue and long blue and 
 yellow feathers. I think a woman never looks better than 
 in a victoria — it shows off the dress and figure so well.
 
 1 84 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 Lottie, too, looked very well, but she passed so quickly I 
 couldn't see what she had on. I had an impression of 
 white with some pink in her hat. Almost all the women 
 were in white. Of course the Lungarno was crowded — 
 all the loungers taking the most lively interest in the car- 
 riages; and when there was a stop criticising freely — 
 but I must say with their natural Italian politeness, con- 
 fining themselves to expressions of admiration more or 
 less pronounced — never anything disagreeable. 
 
 We had a mild reception in the evening. Various 
 friends came to say good-bye — Maquays, Peruzzis, Miss 
 Forbes and one or two men. A scientific German — I for- 
 get his name — who told W. it would take weeks to 
 see all the coins and interesting things of all kinds at 
 the Milan Museum. We are very comfortable here; the 
 hotel is old-fashioned with a nice open court, and the 
 rooms good. We have a pretty apartment on the front, 
 and as it is on the main thoroughfare, Corso Vittorio 
 Emanuele, we see all that goes on. There is a church 
 opposite — San Carlo, I believe — and we are not far from 
 the Piazza del Duomo. 
 
 We went for a little stroll last night after dinner, just 
 for W. to smoke his cigar. The Cathedral looked splen- 
 did — a gigantic white mass in the midst of the busy 
 square, quantities of people in the streets and sitting at 
 all the cafes, of which there are hundreds — quite like the 
 Paris boulevards on a summer night — everybody talking 
 and laughing and a cheerful sound of clinking glasses. I 
 think they were almost all drinking beer — a great many 
 uniforms — I suppose there is a large garrison. There 
 seemed very few foreigners — we heard nothing but Ital- 
 ian spoken — so unlike Rome and even Florence where one 
 heard always so much English in the streets and the 
 shops. They told me in Florence that there was a large
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 185 
 
 English colony there, living quite apart from the fashion- 
 able world — children learning music, or some of the 
 family delicate, needing a mild climate and sunshine — 
 more perhaps in the villas close to the gates than in the 
 town itself. I should think the cutting wind that sweeps 
 the Lungarno would be mortal to weak chests; but up 
 in the hills sheltered by the high walls and olive groves 
 one would be quite protected. Certainly the other day 
 on the terrace of Castello the sun was divine and the air 
 soft and balmy, not a sign of chill or damp — but it was 
 the month of May — the month for Florence. 
 
 This morning I have been unpacking — or rather 
 Madame Hubert has — and settling myself in my salon, 
 making the two corners — feminine and masculine — as I 
 did in Rome. I have no convenient Palazzo Altemps to 
 help me out with cushions, screens, etc., but I found lovely 
 flowers which the landlord (who received us in dress 
 clothes and his hat in his hand) put there, and as he was 
 very civil and pleased to have the " Excellenza " and 
 hoped I would ask for anything I wanted, I have asked 
 for and obtained an arm-chair, and suggested he should 
 give me a simple table-cover instead of the beautiful 
 green velvet one, embroidered with pink roses, which 
 now ornaments my salon. With my careless way of writ- 
 ing and facility for putting ink all over myself, even in 
 my hair, I am afraid that work of art would be seriously 
 deteriorated. He sent up this morning to know if I 
 wanted my breakfast upstairs — if I would come down he 
 would reserve me a small table in the window. I shall 
 go down — I hate meals in a sitting-room and I should 
 like to see what sort of people there are in the hotel.
 
 1 86 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 io o'clock. 
 
 I will go on to-night while W. is putting his papers in 
 order. I breakfasted alone downstairs about 12. The 
 dining-room is a large, handsome room across the court. 
 There were very few people — not more than four tables 
 occupied — a large English family with troops of fair- 
 haired children — girls in white frocks and long black 
 stockings and boys in Eton coats. They all looked about 
 the same age, but I suppose they weren't. They were 
 very quiet and well-behaved, quite unlike any of our small 
 relations. I have vivid recollections of travelling with 
 some of them — all talking at once at the top of their 
 lungs, " Pa, give me a penny," " Pa, give me a cake," 
 " Pa, what's that for? " etc. 
 
 The reading-room opened out of the dining-room, so 
 I went in to have a look at the papers — found a " Debats " 
 and the " Times," and read up all that was going on in the 
 fashionable and political world. W. came in about 4 — 
 he had ordered a carriage for 4.30, and as it was a lovely 
 afternoon we thought we would drive about the streets a 
 little and out into the country. He had had a delightful 
 morning — says the Museum is most interesting — the 
 cabinet de medailles a marvel. He has arranged to go 
 there every day at 10 o'clock — will work there until 3, 
 then come back for me and we shall have our afternoon. 
 He is much pleased with this arrangement but he doesn't 
 think the employees of the cabinet de medailles will find 
 it quite so satisfactory, as some one must always be with 
 him. They never leave any one alone in these rooms. 
 He thinks there are only two people for this service, and 
 they will naturally hate spending a long day doing noth- 
 ing while he studies and copies. 
 
 The Directeur received him to-day most enthusiasti- 
 cally — knew all about his collection of coins.
 
 i88oj OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 187 
 
 We started out about 5 and went first to have a cup 
 of tea at the cafe the padrone recommended — Cova, I 
 think — and then told the man to drive about the streets 
 and pass the principal buildings. We saw the Duomo 
 again, the Scala (theatre) — if it is open we shall go one 
 night ; the great Galerie Victor Emmanuel, full of shops ; 
 and quantities of churches, Santa Maria delle Grazie, 
 of course, where is the famous " Cenacolo " of Leonardo 
 da Vinci, but the outside merely. The fresco is only 
 visible until 4 — so we shall see the inside of the church 
 another day. We made a turn in the public gardens or 
 promenade where there were quite a number of handsome 
 carriages and saddle horses — many officers riding. It 
 was rather late to attempt a country drive (we had said 
 we would dine downstairs at 7.30), for the turning and 
 twisting about in the streets and stopping every now and 
 then had taken up a good deal of time. We had a nice 
 little victoria with a pair of horses, not unlike the car- 
 riage Tomba gave us in Rome. 
 
 We went down about a quarter to eight. The 
 padrone in his dress clothes was waiting at the foot of 
 the stairs and conducted us with much pomp into the 
 dining-room, where we found a nice round table in the 
 window. The room was quite full — many more people 
 than in the morning, and I should think almost all 
 Italians. They looked at us naturally with much curi- 
 osity, as such a fuss was made with us. W. smoked a 
 cigar in the court after dinner and talked to the man of 
 the house who told him about all the distinguished people 
 he had had in his hotel. I found papers and a " Graphic " 
 in the reading-room and was quite surprised when they 
 said it was 10 o'clock.
 
 1 88 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 May 7th. 
 
 It has been pouring all day — straight down. I think 
 it has stopped a little since dinner. We didn't stay long 
 in the reading-room as W. is fairly launched in his coins 
 now and puts his notes in order in the evening. I prowled 
 this morning with Madame Hubert. Before breakfast 
 we went to the Brera. It was almost empty but we found 
 a nice guide, a youngish man, speaking such beauti- 
 ful Italian that it was a pleasure to hear him, and 
 well up on all the pictures. There are beautiful things, 
 certainly. I was so glad to see some old friends. I was 
 always so fond of the " Amanti Veneziani " of Paris 
 Bordone. The " sposo " looks so young and straight and 
 proud, and the girl's attitude is charming, her brown- 
 gold head drooping on her lover's shoulder as she holds 
 out her hand tor the ring he is putting on her finger. 
 Even the inferior pictures of the Paul Veronese school 
 are fine — there is such an intensity of colour. The whole 
 room seemed filled with light and warmth. I think I 
 like the backgrounds and accessories almost as much as 
 the figures. The draperies are so wonderfully done, one 
 can almost touch the gorgeous stuffs, heavy with gold 
 and silver embroidery; and there are one or two-high- 
 backed, carved arm-chairs which are a marvel. The 
 beautiful fair women with strings of pearls in their golden 
 hair, and white satin dresses, sitting up straight and 
 slight in the dark wooden chairs, are fascinating; and 
 there are quantities, for Paul Veronese and all his pupils 
 have always so many people in their pictures. 
 
 We saw of course the " Sposalizia " in a small room 
 quite by itself. The Virgin is a beautifully slight ethereal 
 figure with the marvellous pure face that all Raphael's 
 Madonnas have; but the St. Joseph looks younger than
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 189 
 
 in most other pictures. Our guide was most enthusiastic 
 over the picture. It was a treat to hear him say — 
 " morbidezza " and " dolcissimo." We were there about 
 an hour and a half, and that was quite long- enough. 
 One's eyes get tired. We saw splendid portraits of 
 princes and warriors as we passed through the rooms — 
 Moretto, Leonardo da Vinci and others. 
 
 It was still raining when we came out so we thought 
 we wouldn't attempt any more sight-seeing, and walked 
 up to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele where we were 
 under cover. The Cathedral looked splendid — all the 
 white pinnacles and statues standing out from the dark 
 grey sky. We looked in at all the shop windows, but 
 didn't see anything particularly striking or local except 
 the black lace veils which so many women (not the upper 
 classes) wear here. Madame Hubert being young and 
 pretty was most anxious to adopt that fashion — thought 
 it would be more suitable for Madame as all the suivantes 
 here wore the veil — she would be less remarked going 
 about with Madame — but Madame decidedly preferred 
 the plain little black bonnet of the Parisian femme de 
 chambre. It seems there is a swell Italian woman in the 
 hotel — a Princess — whose maid always wears a veil when 
 she accompanies her mistress in her walks abroad. 
 
 I was decidedly damp when I got back to the hotel. I 
 breakfasted alone at my little table, and in fact was almost 
 alone in the dining-room — there were only two other 
 tables occupied. The head waiter was very sympathetic 
 about the weather — they always had sun in Milan, just 
 a mauvaise chance to-day. I had the reading-room also 
 to myself, and found plenty of papers in all languages. 
 I have rather a weakness for the " Kolnische Zeitung " 
 (Gazette de Cologne) . It is very anti-French, or I might 
 really say anti-everything, as it is always pitching into
 
 190 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 somebody, but there is a good deal of general information 
 in it. 
 
 W. came in about 3.30, having worked steadily since 9. 
 It was getting too dark to see much more and his at- 
 tendant beamed when he saw him putting up his papers 
 and preparing to leave. He says the man is bored to 
 death — wants to talk at first and explain things to him, 
 but he soon realizes that W. is bent on serious work, so he 
 desists and reads a paper and walks about the room and 
 fidgets generally. 
 
 We waited until 4.30 hoping the rain would stop. It 
 didn't, but the clouds lightened a little and we thought 
 we would go and see the Duomo. I had forgotten how 
 beautiful it is — those great wide aisles quite bare — no 
 chairs, nothing to break the line until quite at the high 
 altar, and the light from the old glass windows coming 
 from so high over our heads it seemed straight from 
 heaven. We sat some little time in one of the side 
 chapels. It looked vast and mysterious — one had such 
 an impression of space and height. Various guides came 
 up and supposed we would not care to go up on the 
 roof on such an afternoon. We told them we would 
 come back the next day if it was fine. They looked so 
 disappointed at having nothing that we finally went down 
 into the crypt to see the tomb and body of San Carlo Bor- 
 romeo. We had both seen it before but I didn't mind 
 reviving my souvenirs. We had tapers of course as it 
 was quite dark, but we saw quite well the coloured 
 marbles and precious stones of the little chapel — also the 
 body of the Saint, marvellously preserved. It looked 
 very small — hardly the size of a grown man. The guide 
 of course wanted to show us all sorts of relics, and the 
 tresor of the Cathedral, but we preferred going up again 
 to the church, and wandered about looking at the mar-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 191 
 
 ble tombs and monuments — there are not many, and 
 they are quite lost in the enormous building. Quite 
 down at the bottom of the church, near the door under a 
 baldaquin, is a font in porphyry, said to be the sarcopha- 
 gus of some saint. The church looked immense as it 
 grew darker and the light gradually faded, leaving deep 
 shadows everywhere. When we turned back, just as we 
 were going out, to have a last glimpse, the high altar 
 seemed far away, and the tall candles looked like twink- 
 ling lights seen through a mist or veil. 
 
 We walked about a little under the arcades. W. 
 wanted some cigars and I an Italian book Minghetti had 
 recommended to me, " Sketches of Life in Milan and 
 Venice under the Austrian Occupation." I have been 
 reading it a little to-night — what an awful life for 
 Italians — a despotic, iron rule, police and spies every- 
 where, women even making their way into the great 
 Italian houses and reporting everything to the police — 
 the children's games and little songs, the books and 
 papers the family read, the visits they received. The 
 most arbitrary measures prevailed — no young man al- 
 lowed to leave the city — no papers nor books allowed that 
 were not authorized by the government — and when ar- 
 rests were made, the prisoners, men or women, treated 
 most cruelly. The Austrians must have felt the hatred 
 and thirst for vengeance that was smouldering in all 
 these young hearts. It seems all the girls and young 
 women, even of the poorest classes, made themselves 
 flags (tricolour) out of bits of anything (paper when they 
 couldn't get anything better) and gave them to all the 
 men, preparing for the " Cinque giorni " when many of 
 them went down under the Austrian bayonets, giving 
 their lives cheerfully and proudly for their country. 
 Radetzsky must have been a monster of cruelty. How
 
 1 92 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 they must hate the white uniform and the black and 
 yellow flag. 
 
 The city is quiet enough to-night. I suppose it is not 
 an opera night. It is only half-past ten and we are on 
 one of the principal thoroughfares, but nothing is passing 
 in the street. The hotel, too, is quiet, one doesn't hear 
 a sound. I fancy most travellers go to the new hotel — 
 the Cavour. We are quite satisfied here, and are most 
 comfortable — the landlord very attentive. He and W. 
 are becoming great friends — they talk politics (Italian) 
 every night while W. smokes. 
 
 Friday 7th. 
 I see I shall always write at night. After coffee and 
 half an hour in the reading-room (I always go and have 
 a look at the papers while W. smokes) we come upstairs. 
 W. plunges at once into his notes, and I read and write. 
 It has been lovely to-day and we have had a nice after- 
 noon. W. came home to breakfast at 1, as he wanted 
 to see the Brera and " Cenacolo " once again ; and it is of 
 course too late when we start for our afternoon drive at 
 4.30. We walked to the Brera — it isn't far — and were 
 there a long time. We made a long stop in the vestibule 
 looking at the Luini frescoes — all scenes in the Virgin's 
 life — Madonnas, angels, saints — quantities of figures, 
 and colours and accessories of all kinds — wonderful trees 
 and buildings and clouds with angels and seraphim ris- 
 ing out of them. They must have had marvellous imagi- 
 nations, those early Italian painters. They never saw 
 anything to suggest such pictures to them, and of course 
 never read anything — there were no books to read — 
 merely written manuscripts difficult enough for scholars 
 to decipher. All the wonderful scenes — Nativity. Coro- 
 nation, etc. — evoked out of their own brains. I think I
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE [93 
 
 like the Annunciation the best of all the scenes of the 
 Virgin's life. There is a beautiful one in the Pitti — I 
 forget now by whom — the Virgin just risen from her 
 chair with a half-dazed, half-triumphant look, and the 
 angel kneeling before her with his lily. I like some of 
 the German ones, too, but they are much more elaborate 
 — the Virgin often standing in a wide arch — a portico — 
 more figures in the background — and the Virgin herself 
 quite a German girl — not at all the lovely, spiritual head 
 of the Italian masters. 
 
 We walked through all the rooms. The Venetian 
 pictures (Paul Veronese school) looked beautiful. W., 
 too, was struck with the splendid colouring. Some of 
 the names quite unknown, and if one looked too closely 
 there were perhaps faults of drawing and exaggeration of 
 colour, but the effect was extraordinary. He admired the 
 men's portraits excessively, by Titian, Tintoretto, Moroni, 
 etc. They are very fine — sometimes a soldier with keen, 
 hard eyes, clad in complete armour — often a noble, some 
 grand seigneur of his time, in black velvet and fur with 
 jewelled cap and chain, a fine patrician head and thought- 
 ful face. We didn't see the young guide who went about 
 with me — I was rather sorry — I wanted W. to hear his 
 beautiful Italian. 
 
 We stayed so long looking at everything (Luini's 
 pictures are most interesting, too — he must have had an 
 extraordinary capacity for work) that we had just time 
 to get a cab and drive over to Santa Maria delle Grazie 
 to see the " Cenacolo " as it shuts at 4. The Saviour's 
 head, St. John, and some of the other faces are beautiful 
 — but it is so faded (and on the other hand has been 
 touched up a little) that I was disappointed. 
 
 It was a beautiful bright afternoon and we saw as well 
 as possible, but really " decay's effacing fingers " have
 
 i 9 4 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 been allowed too much sway. They told us it was im- 
 possible to guard against the damp, and that eventually 
 the whole thing would be blotted out. However, it has 
 stood the test pretty well through all these years. 
 
 We went into the church, which was quite empty, ex- 
 cept one figure in black, absorbed and motionless, kneel- 
 ing on the stone pavement. Poor woman, I hope she got 
 what she was praying for so earnestly. From there we 
 went to the church of St. Ambrogio, which is a fine 
 old building — the frescoes and inscriptions much faded. 
 The iron crown used to be kept there (they told us the 
 Kings and Emperors came there to be crowned) but it is 
 now at Monza. I declined any more churches and regu- 
 lar sight-seeing after that — so we went back to the hotel 
 where the carriage was to meet us, went for our cup 
 of tea to Cova's, and then started for a drive. 
 
 The country quite around the city is not particularly 
 interesting — much cultivated, but flat — vineyards, corn 
 and rice fields all intersected with numberless little canals. 
 Though it was late, 6 o'clock, people were still work- 
 ing in the fields and seemed to keep to their work much 
 more steadily than the peasants about Rome and Florence 
 who were always stopping to talk or look at whatever 
 was passing. We met bands of them trooping along the 
 road — they were generally tall, broad-shouldered, strong 
 men — quite the northern type. We crossed some sol- 
 diers, too — cavalry and infantry — quite a big detachment 
 — all had their kits, and baggage wagons following. They 
 were evidently changing garrison. I didn't think the 
 troops looked very smart. The horses were small and 
 very thin, and the men (infantry particularly) dragged 
 along and were rather dirty. Just as they passed us the 
 music struck up a sort of quick march, and it was curious 
 to see the instantaneous effect. The men straightened
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 195 
 
 themselves up, moved more quickly and lightly — it was 
 quite different. 
 
 I hoped we should get a view of the mountains, but the 
 sunset, though beautiful, was rather misty — however the 
 coachman told us that meant fine weather for to-morrow 
 which will be nice as we are going up on the top of the 
 Cathedral. I was glad to have a little rest before din- 
 ner. I plunged again into my book, which is madly in- 
 teresting — but such horrors — a long imprisonment like 
 Silvio Pellico's was merciful compared to some of the 
 tortures and cruelties — and it seems the Emperor himself 
 was the hardest of all — never forgetting nor pardoning 
 nor listening to any petition or prayer for mercy — no 
 wonder the people were infuriated — mad with rage — 
 women and children working at he barricades during the 
 " five days " ; and the old ones, too infirm to take an 
 active part, at the windows pouring down boiling water 
 and oil on the Austrian soldiers. However, I suppose it 
 is the history of all street fighting. I remember the 
 hideous tales they told us of the Paris Commune, when 
 we went back there after the war — how maddened the 
 Versaillais were at the shots, missiles and boiling water 
 which came from all the windows upon them. The re- 
 prisals were terrible when the regular troops finally got 
 the upper hand — and I suppose no one will ever know 
 how many innocent people were shot in the first flush of 
 success. 
 
 I read out bits of my book to W. He said he didn't 
 think the account exaggerated — of course they had chosen 
 all the worst cases. He was at Versailles during the 
 Commune, and saw the first batches of prisoners brought 
 in — such awful looking people — many young, very young 
 men, with wild reckless faces. They probably didn't know, 
 half of them, what they had been fighting for — a vague
 
 196 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 idea of patrie and liberty, and the natural love of the 
 Parisian gamin for a row and a barricade. 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 Milan, Hotel de Ville, 
 May 9, 1880. 
 
 We have had an awiu. day, dear mother, pouring 
 steady rain since early morning — clouds grey and low 
 shutting out the city entirely; really so dark I could 
 hardly see to dress — and the streets apparently deserted. 
 W. didn't mind, and was off as usual to his coins at 9 
 o'clock. He did have a remords de conscience at leav- 
 ing me all alone all day shut up in a little hotel salon, and 
 said if I would come and get him about 3 we would try 
 and see something. 
 
 I wrote two letters which will rather amuse the family 
 as they say I only write when I am boring myself in the 
 country or having a series of rainy days — Janet always 
 calls them my rain letters. However, when I had writ- 
 ten two my energy in that line was exhausted, and I felt 
 I couldn't sit another moment in that dark salon, so I 
 summoned Madame Hubert (I don't generally care to 
 have a maid for a companion but I didn't like to walk- 
 about the streets of a foreign city alone) and we started 
 off with short skirts and umbrellas. The gerant nearly 
 fell off his high stool in the bureau when he saw me pre- 
 paring to go out — wanted to send for a carriage, a fiacre, 
 anything — but I told him I really wanted to walk, which 
 filled him with amazement. Italians as a rule don't like 
 walking at all, and he thought I was quite mad to go out 
 deliberately, and for my pleasure, on such a day. 
 
 It wasn't very pleasant in the streets — everybody's um- 
 brella ran into me, and the pavements were wet and slip-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 197 
 
 pery. We finally took refuge under the arcades, but there 
 we got quite as much jostled, for everybody who was out, 
 was there ; and the sudden gusts of wind and rain around 
 the corners and through the arches were anything but 
 pleasant. I wasn't at all happy, but I liked it better than 
 sitting in the room at the hotel. I was so draggled and 
 my boots so covered with mud that I was rather ashamed 
 to cross the big hall of the hotel when I came in. 
 
 I found a letter from Gert saying she was so glad we 
 had such delightful weather for Milan. I wish she could 
 look out of my window at this moment. She wouldn't 
 know if she were in Milan or Elizabethtown. The clouds 
 are very low on the roofs of the houses — the city has dis- 
 appeared in a mist, I can just see across the street. The 
 pavements are swimming — quite rushing torrents in the 
 gutters, and I look down upon a sea of umbrellas. 
 
 I started out again about 3 — in a carriage this time — 
 and went to get W. — extract him from his coins if I 
 could. There was no one, apparently, in the Museum, 
 but a smiling concierge took me to the antiquity and coin 
 rooms where I found W. very busy and happy ; quite in- 
 sensible to rain or any outside considerations. He said 
 the light wasn't very good. A musty old savant with 
 a long ragged beard and very bright black eyes was keep- 
 ing him company. He was delighted to see me, for he 
 knew that meant stopping work for that afternoon. I 
 talked to him a little while W. was putting his papers 
 in order, and it was evident he had never seen any one 
 with such a capacity for steady work. He encouraged 
 us very much to go and see something (anything that 
 would take us out of the coin room) but we really didn't 
 know what to do with ourselves — a country drive wasn't 
 inviting and it was too dark and late for pictures — all the 
 galleries close at 4. The padrone had recommended
 
 I9 8 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 the flower show to us in the public gardens, so we thought 
 we would try that. The flowers were all under glass and 
 tents, so we were dry overhead, but the ground was wet 
 and muddy — a general damp, chilly feeling everywhere. 
 I am sure the place is lovely on a bright summer day. 
 There are fine trees, splendid horse chestnuts, pretty 
 paths and little bosquets. The poor flowers looked 
 faded and drooping, even under cover. The roses were 
 splendid — such enormous ones with quantities of leaves, 
 very full. The finest were " Reine Marguerite," " Mar- 
 guerite de Savoie," " Princess de Piemont." I asked one 
 of the gardeners if the Queen was very fond of flowers — 
 the " Marguerite de Savoie " was a beautiful white rose. 
 " Oh, yes," he said, enthusiastically, " the Queen loves 
 flowers and everything that is beautiful." I thought it 
 such a pretty answer. He showed us, with great pride, 
 a green rose. I can't say I admired it, but it is so difficult 
 and so expensive to produce that I don't think we shall 
 see many. We walked about and looked at all the 
 flowers. Some of the variegated leaves were very hand- 
 some. There was a pink broad leaf with a dull green 
 border and an impossible name I should have liked to take 
 away, but the man said it was an extremely delicate plant 
 raised under glass — wouldn't live long in a room (which 
 was what I wanted it for). We thought we would go 
 back and have tea in a new place under the arcades — in 
 the Galleria. The tea was bad — had certainly never seen 
 China — as grown, I daresay, in the rice fields near the 
 city, so we declined that and ordered chocolate, which 
 was very good, and panettoni. W. was rather glad to 
 have something to eat after his early breakfast. It was 
 pouring, but we were quite sheltered in the corner of the 
 veranda ; so he smoked and we looked at the people pass- 
 ing and sitting near us. They were certainly not a very
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 199 
 
 disinguished collection — a good many officers (in uni- 
 form), loungers who might be anything — small function- 
 aries, I should think — few women of any description, and 
 no pretty ones. The peasant woman coming out of the 
 fields was much better-looking than any we saw to-day. 
 
 W. had had visitors in the coin room this morning. The 
 Director, who came, he thinks, out of sheer curiosity to 
 see how any one, for his pleasure, could work five or six 
 hours at a time. He brought with him a Greek savant — 
 a most intelligent young man who apparently knew W.'s 
 collection almost as well as he did — and all the famous 
 collections of Europe. They had a most interesting talk 
 and discussion about certain doubtful coins of which 
 3 Museums — London, Petersburg and Milan — claim to 
 have the only originals. We talked over our plans, but I 
 think we have still two or three more days here. We 
 want to go to Monza. They say the old town ancl church 
 are most interesting, as well as the Royal Villa. 
 
 It was rather amusing in the reading-room after din- 
 ner. There were many more people — women princi- 
 pally, and English. Some of them had been buying 
 things at the two famous bric-a-brac shops, and they were 
 very much afraid they had paid too much, and been im- 
 posed upon. They finally appealed to me (we had ex- 
 changed papers and spoken a few words to each other) 
 but I told them I was no good, nothing of a connoisseur 
 for bric-a-brac, and particularly ignorant about lace. 
 They showed it to me, and it looked very handsome — 
 old Venetian, the man had told them. They had also 
 some silver which they had bought at one of the little 
 shops in the Piazza dei Mercanti. I think I will go and 
 see what I can find there. 
 
 I found W. deep in his Paris courrier when I got 
 upstairs. There was a heap of letters and papers, also
 
 loo ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 Daudet's book " Souvenirs de la Presidence du Mare- 
 chal de Mac'Mahon " which l'Oncle Alphonse had sent us, 
 said everybody was reading it at the clubs. W. figures 
 in it considerably, not always in a very favourable light, 
 as judged by Monsieur Daudet ; but facts speak for them- 
 selves, even when the criticism is not quite fair. I sup- 
 pose it is absolutely impossible for a Royalist to judge a 
 moderate Republican impartially. I think they under- 
 stand the out-and-out Radical better. The book is clever. 
 I read out bits to W. (which, by the way, he hates — 
 loathes being read to). It was interesting to read the 
 life we had just been leading described by an outsider. 
 
 I think W. will give himself a holiday to-morrow if it 
 is fine (at the present moment, with the wind and 
 rain beating against the windows, that seems a remote 
 possibility). He will come back to breakfast and we 
 will have our afternoon at Monza. I have finished my 
 book of the Austrian rule, and I am really glad — the hor- 
 rors quite haunted me. It seems incredible that in our 
 days one Christian nation should have been allowed to 
 treat another one so barbarously. I should like to go 
 back to my childish days and read " Le mie Prigioni," but 
 I found a life of Cavour downstairs in the hotel library, 
 so I think I shall take that. 
 
 May ioth. 
 It is lovely this morning (though when the weather 
 changed I don't know, as it seemed to me I heard a steady 
 downpour every time I woke in the night), however, at 
 9 o'clock it was an ideal summer day, warm, a bright blue 
 sky, no grey clouds or mist, one could hardly believe it 
 was the same city. The atmosphere is so clear that the 
 snow mountains seem almost at the bottom of the street. 
 I went for a walk with Madame Hubert through the old
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 201 
 
 parts of the city — such curious, narrow, twisting little 
 streets. We went into the Duomo for a moment, it 
 looked enormous — cool and dark except where a bright 
 ray of sunshine came through the painted windows, but 
 so subdued that it didn't seem real sunlight seen through 
 all the marvellous coloured glass. There were a few peo- 
 ple walking about in little groups, but they were lost in 
 the great space. One didn't hear a sound — the silence 
 was striking — there wasn't even the usual murmur of 
 priest or chorister at the altar as there was no mass 
 going on. 
 
 We asked the way to the Piazza dei Mercanti on the 
 other side of the Duomo. It is a curious old square — a 
 very bad pavement, grass growing in places between the 
 stones, and all sorts of queer, irregular buildings all 
 around it — churches, palaces, porticos, gateways — a rem- 
 nant of old Milan. At each end there were little low 
 shops where many people were congregated. I don't 
 know if they were buying — I should think not as they 
 seemed all rather seedy, impecunious individuals judging 
 by their shabby, not to say worn-out garments — all Ital- 
 ians — I think we were the only foreigners in the Piazza 
 (yet it is one of the sights of Milan, mentioned in the 
 guide books). We went, too, and looked at some of the 
 things spread out for sale — many old engravings, carved 
 wooden frames, gold and silver ornaments, and some 
 handsome cups and flagons very elaborately worked — 
 also some bits of old stuff, brocade, and a curious faded 
 red velvet worked in gold, but all in very bad condition. I 
 couldn't find a good piece large enough to make an ordi- 
 nary cushion. In one corner, squatting in the sun, were 
 two big, dark men with scarlet caps on their heads (they 
 looked like Tunisians). They had muslins, spangled 
 with gold and silver, crepe de Chine, and nondescript
 
 202 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 embroidered squares of white, soft silk with wonderful 
 bright embroidery and designs — moons, and ships and 
 trees. We spoke to them in French, but they didn't un- 
 derstand, and answered us in some unintelligible jargon 
 — half Italian, with a few English words thrown in. 
 
 Some of the old palaces are fine, one in particular 
 which seems to be a sort of bourse now. The portico 
 was crowded with men, all talking at the top of their 
 voices. We had glimpses through the crowd of a fine 
 collection of broken columns, statues, tablets and bas- 
 reliefs inside, but we didn't attempt to get in ; though a 
 friendly workman in the street, seeing us stopping and 
 looking, evident strangers, told us we ought to go in and 
 see " le bellezze " (the beautiful things). There is an 
 equestrian statue on one side of the palace — I couldn't 
 quite make out the name, but the inscription says that 
 among other great deeds he " burnt many heretics." I 
 don't suppose they gave his his statue exclusively on that 
 account, but the fact was carefully mentioned. We 
 wandered about rather aimlessly, leaving the Piazza, and 
 finally found ourselves in a wide, handsome street — large 
 palaces on one side and the canal running through the 
 middle. The canal is really very picturesque — the water 
 fairly clear, reflecting the curious, high, carved balconies 
 and loggias (some of them covered with creepers and 
 bright coloured flowers) that hang over the canal. They 
 seemed all large houses, with the back giving on the 
 canal ; some of the low doors opening straight out on the 
 water were quite a reminder of Venice ; and when there 
 was a terrace with white marble balustrade and benches 
 one could quite imagine some of Paul Veronese's beauti- 
 ful, fair-haired women with their pearls and gorgeous 
 red and gold garments disporting themselves there in the 
 summer evenings. The palaces on the other side of the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 203 
 
 street are fine, stately mansions — large doors open, show- 
 ing great square courts, sometimes two or three stretch- 
 ing far back — sometimes a fountain and grass plot in the 
 middle — sometimes arcades running all around the court, 
 with balconies and small pointed windows — coats-of-arms 
 up over the big doors, but no signs of life — no magnifi- 
 cent porters such as one sees in Rome in all the great 
 houses. They all looked in perfectly good condition and 
 well cared for. I wonder who lives in them. 
 
 We came out at the Place Cavour and had a look at the 
 statue, which is good — in bronze — an energetic standing 
 figure with a fine head, very like — one would have recog- 
 nised it anywhere from all the pictures one has always 
 seen of Cavour. There is no group — he standing alone 
 on a granite pedestal — a woman (Fame) kneeling, and 
 writing his name on a scroll. I liked it very much — it 
 is so simple, and we have seen so many allegorical groups 
 and gods and goddesses lately that it was rather a relief 
 to see anything quite plain and intelligible. 
 
 I wasn't sorry to get back to the hotel and rest a little 
 before starting again this afternoon. I liked walking 
 through the little old crooked streets — they were not 
 empty, there were people in all of them, but decidedly of 
 the poorer classes. They are a naturally polite, sympa- 
 thetic race — always smiling if you ask anything and al- 
 ways moving to one side to let you pass — unlike the stolid 
 German who calmly and massively takes the middle of the 
 pavement and never dreams of moving to one side, or 
 considering anybody else. I have just been jostled by 
 two stout specimens of the touring Vaterland — they are 
 anything but good types. If they didn't understand the 
 language in which Madame Hubert expressed her opin- 
 ion I think the tone said something to them, for one man 
 muttered a sort of excuse.
 
 204 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 If I can keep my eyes open long enough I will finish 
 this letter to-night. We have had a lovely afternoon — 
 didn't get back until 8.30 and have only just come up- 
 stairs from dinner. We started a little after three, in a 
 light victoria and a capital pair of small strong post- 
 horses who went at a good, steady, quick trot. The drive 
 is a short hour and a half — not very interesting country 
 — flat rice fields and the same numerous little canals one 
 sees all over Lombardy. Monza is quite a large town — 
 looks very old and Italian. The Cathedral was begun in 
 the sixth century, but rebuilt in the fourteenth. There 
 are all sorts of curious frescoes and relics. We saw, of 
 course, the iron crown which all Austrian Emperors are 
 supposed to wear at their coronation. The last two to 
 wear it were Napoleon and Ferdinand I. It is really a 
 large gold circle with a smaller iron one inside, and 
 studded with precious stones — very heavy. It was shown 
 to us with much pomp, lighted tapers, and a priest in his 
 vestments. He told us the iron band inside was made 
 out of a nail that had been taken from the Saviour's 
 cross. He handled it very reverently, and would hardly 
 let me lift it to see how heavy it was. He showed us 
 many curious things, among others a fan of Queen Theo- 
 dolinda's, made in the 6th century. It was small, made 
 in leather, and really not too faded, though one had to 
 look closely and with the eyes of faith to see the roses the 
 old priest pointed out. 
 
 While we were looking at the relics a French pelerin- 
 age came up — quite a long procession; many very nice- 
 looking women. They were all dressed in black, and 
 most of them wore bonnets — some few had black veils — 
 priests of course, and a fair amount of men of all ages. 
 They passed in procession up the aisle, chanting a psalm, 
 which sounded very well, full and solemn. One or two
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 1205 
 
 stragglers, two young men and a woman stopped to see 
 what we were looking at, and we had a little talk. They 
 had just arrived over the St. Gothard, hadn't much time, 
 and were very keen to see everything. They said it was 
 very cold crossing the mountain — the heavy rain we had 
 had at Milan had been deep snow on the pass. We went 
 to look at Queen Theodolinda's tomb in one of the side 
 chapels, and then started for the " Casa Reale " as they 
 call the Royal Villa. It has no pretensions to archi- 
 tecture; is a large square building with long, rambling 
 wings. We could only see the great hall and some of the 
 reception rooms downstairs, as they were painting and 
 cleaning upstairs. The rooms had no particular style — 
 large, high ceilings, great windows looking on the park ; 
 just what one sees in all Royal Palaces. All the furni- 
 ture was covered with housses — the gardien took one off 
 an arm-chair to show us the red velvet. The lustres also 
 were covered — the mirrors were handsome. The park 
 is delightful — quantities of trees of all kinds, lovely shady 
 walks, and bosquets. There seemed to be a great deal of 
 game — deer and pheasants walking about quite tame and 
 undisturbed in all directions. The communs and depen- 
 dances are enormous, quite a little colony of houses scat- 
 tered about — regisseur, head-keeper, head-gardener, all 
 with good gardens. 
 
 We had a nice talk with a half-gardener half-guide who 
 went about with us and showed us all the beauties. The 
 place is low — I should think would be very warm in sum- 
 mer, for even to-day the shade was pleasant and the low 
 afternoon sun in our faces rather trying. There were 
 splendid views every now and then of the distant Alps. 
 The gardener, like every one else who has ever been 
 thrown with her, apparently adored the Queen — said she 
 knew all about the place, and trees, and flowers, and was
 
 106 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 so beloved in the town. I remember Peruzzi telling 
 me how fond she was of Monza — happier there than 
 anywhere. They certainly love their " Margherita di 
 Savoia." There are pictures of her everywhere, and 
 some one told us that all the girls in Monza are called 
 Margherita. 
 
 When we were starting back we met the pilgrims 
 again, still walking and chanting on their way to the 
 station. They had a white banner with them, but I 
 couldn't see what the inscription was. The drive home 
 was lovely, even along the long straight road bordered 
 with poplars (quite like a French country road). The 
 evening was delicious, a little cool driving, as we went a 
 very good pace. I was glad to put a light wrap over my 
 shoulders. The sunset clouds were gorgeous, and every 
 now and then glimpses of the snow mountains. I love 
 to see them — those beautiful white peaks, half clouds, 
 half snow — they seem so mysterious, so far away from 
 our every-day life and world. The road was dull, very 
 little passing until we got near Milan. There we met 
 bands of peasants coming in from their work in the fields, 
 and country carts loaded with people — all the young ones 
 singing and talking, and the wrinkled old women looking 
 on smiling. We noticed again what a fine, strong race 
 they are — both men and women — such broad shoulders, 
 and holding themselves so straight. They must have 
 been nasty adversaries when their time came and they 
 shook off the hated Austrian yoke ; but they were not cruel 
 victors (so says my book), the wives and daughters of 
 men who had fallen under Austrian cannon nursing and 
 tending their sick and wounded enemies. 
 
 We met three or four handsome private carriages, also 
 a young man driving a phaeton with a pair of handsome 
 steppers. Our coachman pointed him out proudly to us
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 207 
 
 as the Marchese , some name I didn't catch, but he 
 
 was evidently a swell. I suppose there are villas in the 
 neighborhood, but we didn't see any, nothing but trees, 
 rice fields and little canals and ditches. 
 
 I think we shall get off the day after to-morrow. W. 
 thinks one more morning with the coins will be enough 
 for him, he wants now to get back. I think he is home- 
 sick for the Senate and politics generally, but he won't 
 allow it. We had thought of going to Como for two 
 days, it is so easy from here, but he wants to stop at 
 Turin, so we must give it up. I suppose it won't be as 
 cold at Turin now as we always used to find it crossing 
 in winter. Do you remember one of the first years, com- 
 ing over the Mount Cenis, how bitterly cold it was, and 
 how we shivered in the big, high rooms of the hotel — a 
 mosaic pavement, bits of thin carpet on the floor, and a 
 fire of shavings in the chimney. We will write and tele- 
 graph, of course, from there. I don't think we shall stay 
 more than one night. 
 
 May nth. 
 We are really leaving to-morrow morning, get to 
 Turin for dinner. As we telegraphed yesterday the ad- 
 dress I hope we shall find letters. It has been lovely 
 again all day, so our last impressions are good. I have 
 quite forgotten the rain and dark of the other day. The 
 padrone has just informed us, with much pride, that 
 the Crown Princess of Germany arrives to-night in this 
 hotel from Vienna. I wish she had come yesterday — I 
 should have liked to see her again. I have been out 
 shopping this morning, but it is difficult; there is not 
 much to buy, at least not in the nice big shops of the Gal- 
 leria Vittorio Emanuele, and I am a little afraid of the 
 antiquities — I know so little about bric-a-brac (au fond
 
 208 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 like modern things just as well, but other people don't, 
 and would much rather have a really ugly, queer-shaped 
 old cup or glass than the most graceful modern creation). 
 The padrone gave me the address of a good an- 
 tiquity shop, and said I could be perfectly sure in taking 
 anything they said was old, and I need only say he had 
 recommended me to go there. I found beautiful things, 
 but all large, cassoni, high-backed, carved armchairs 
 and Venetian mirrors, but the prices were awful and 
 the things much too big. I wanted something smaller 
 that I could put into my trunk. We went back to the 
 Piazza dei Mercanti and, after looking about at many 
 of the little shops, I did find some rather curious silver 
 spoons and boxes. The spoons have quaint, long handles 
 ending in a head, not apostles, but soldiers and women 
 with veils and crowns. The boxes are most elaborately 
 carved — on the cover of one there are 21 figures — 
 a sort of vintage with bunches of grapes. As usual 
 there were many people lounging about and stopping 
 at all the shops — some of them wildly interested in 
 my purchases. One funny little old man with a yellow 
 face and bright eyes was apparently much pleased with 
 the box I chose — nodded and smiled at me, saying : " Una 
 bellezza questa" (this is a beauty). On our way back 
 we went into the great court-yard of the Ospedale Mag- 
 giore, an enormous brick building with fine facade and 
 high pointed windows ; the walls covered with medallions 
 and ornaments in terra-cotta. I believe it is one of the 
 largest hospitals that exist and certainly once inside those 
 great courts one would feel absolutely cut off from the 
 outside world. There seemed to be gardens and good trees 
 at the back — we saw the green through the cloisters, and 
 there was a fine loggia overlooking the court. It was as 
 sleepy and quiet as possible to-day — no sign of life, no
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 209 
 
 concierge nor porter, nor patient of any kind visible. If 
 we had had time and wanted to go over the hospital I 
 don't know whom we could have applied to. 
 
 It was very warm walking home. Happily our way 
 lay through narrow streets, with high houses on each 
 side, so we had shade. I found cards and a note from the 
 Murrays (English friends we had met in Rome). They 
 are staying at the Cavour, but will come and dine at our 
 hotel to-night. They are off to the Lakes to-morrow, 
 and as we leave too early it will be our only chance of 
 meeting. It will seem quite strange to see any one we 
 know — we have lived so entirely alone these few days 
 in Milan. I told W. last night I found him a most 
 agreeable companion. We haven't talked so much to 
 each other for years. He is always so busy all day in 
 Paris that except for the ride in the morning, I don't see 
 much of him — and of course in Rome and Florence we 
 were never alone. 
 
 It is rather late but I will write a few lines and send 
 them off to-morrow morning. W. came home about 4, 
 fussed a little over trunks and interviewed the porter 
 about our tickets, places, etc., and then we started off for 
 the Duomo. There was a party going up just as we got 
 to the door, so we joined forces — about 8 people. The 
 ascent was very fatiguing, quite 500 steps, I should think, 
 mostly inside the tower, with openings giving fine views 
 over the city and Lombard plains. We all halted every 
 now and then — I was the only lady. There were two 
 Englishmen with whom we fraternized. They were 
 making a walking tour through the North of Italy — 
 Piedmont and Lombardy. They addressed W. by name, 
 which surprised him extremely, so much so that he said : 
 " I don't remember, but I suppose we must have met be- 
 fore." "Not at all," they said, " we recognised you from
 
 210 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 all the pictures we had seen of you in the illustrated 
 papers." What it is to be a celebrity! 
 
 We did finally, with many stops, get up on the roof, 
 and were well repaid, for the view was enchanting — 
 Milan so far below us we could hardly believe it was a 
 big city, but the mountains quite beautiful. There was 
 a man with a telescope on top, and he pointed out the 
 principal peaks. Monte Rosa was magnificent — stood 
 out splendidly, a round snow peak; Mt. Cervin, Mt. 
 Cenis, the Bernese far away, disappearing in the clouds ; 
 and various others whose names I forget, nearer. I 
 couldn't see the Chartreuse of Pavia, though they said it 
 was quite visible, and just the Superga of Turin. Nearer 
 these were various churches and monasteries standing 
 high on hills nearer the town, but I couldn't look at any- 
 thing but the snow mountains. You can't imagine how 
 divine they were, with the beautiful, soft afternoon sun on 
 them. One couldn't really tell which was cloud and 
 which was mountain — they seemed to be part of the sky. 
 
 I found the going down more disagreeable than coming 
 up. It was darker, the steps were a little broken at the 
 edge and decidedly slippery; however, we arrived with- 
 out any adventures. Just as we got to the hotel we saw 
 three or four carriages drive up, and as we went in the 
 porter told us the German Crown Princess with her 
 daughters and a large suite was arriving. We stood in 
 the court to see them pass — but the Princess was not 
 there, only her daughters (3). They were tall, fair, very 
 German-looking, each one with a large bouquet. There 
 seemed any number of ladies and gentlemen in attendance, 
 and a great deal of bowing and deferential manners. 
 
 We went downstairs about a quarter to eight. We 
 had given the Murrays rendezvous in the reading-room, 
 but they came in just as we crossed the court, and we
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 211 
 
 went straight to the dining-room. They told us the 
 Crown Princess only comes to-morrow. They had gone 
 to the station to meet her (they had seen her in Venice), 
 but there were only the young Princesses. We had a 
 pleasant dinner. They are a nice couple (Scotch). He 
 is very clever, a literary man, rather delicate, can't stand 
 the English winter, and always comes abroad. He knows 
 Italy well and is mad about Venice. She is clever, too, 
 but is rather silent — however, we didn't either of us 
 have a chance to-night, for the two gentlemen talked 
 hard, politics, which Mr. Murray was very keen about. 
 He had a decided thirst for information, and asked W. so 
 many questions about France, the state of politics, the 
 influence of the clergy, etc., that I was rather anxious, as 
 in general there is nothing W. hates like being questioned. 
 However, he was very gracious to-night, and disposed 
 to talk. When he doesn't feel like it wild horses couldn't 
 drag anything out of him. 
 
 They stayed till ten o'clock, and now I have been put- 
 ting the last things in my small trunk. The big trunks 
 go straight through from here, and we will pick them up 
 at the Gare de Lyon. The padrone has just been up to 
 ask if we were satisfied with the hotel, and would we 
 recommend him. 
 
 To G. W. S. 
 
 Turin, Hotel de l'Europe, 
 May 13, 1880. 
 
 This will be my last letter from Italy, dear. I am 
 sorry to think I am turning my back on this enchanting 
 country. To-day has been perfect ; everything, sky, sun, 
 mountains, ugly yellow palaces, grim, frowning build- 
 ings, look beautiful — a perfect glow of light and colour.
 
 212 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 I can scarcely believe it is the same city we used to freeze 
 in, when we passed through it often in old times going 
 down to Rome. Heavens — how cold it was everywhere 
 — a wind that seemed to come straight from the glaciers 
 cutting one in two when there was a great square to be 
 crossed, or whistling through the arcades when we wished 
 to loiter a little and see the shops and curiosities. I can't 
 remember if we stayed at this hotel — I don't think so, 
 as it is very comfortable and that was by no means my 
 recollection of the one we always went to on our way 
 down so many years ago. The rooms are high — we have 
 a nice apartment on the first floor, well furnished — quite 
 modern. 
 
 We got here yesterday quite early in the afternoon. 
 It is only about 4 or 5 hours by train. We had a most 
 festive " send-off " from Milan. I was well " bunched " 
 as some of our compatriots would say. The padrone 
 gave me a beautiful bouquet of roses when we came 
 downstairs to the carriage, also a nice little basket of fruit 
 which he thought might be acceptable on our journey. 
 He had seen about our carriage — so that was all right — 
 and we found the Director of the Museum, and the Greek 
 friend at the station — also with a bouquet. All our bags 
 and wraps were stowed away in the carriage, and the 
 Director of the Museum (I have never known his name) 
 had also put papers — some illustrated ones — on the seats. 
 I felt rather like a bride starting on her wedding journey. 
 
 The road wasn't very interesting. We had glimpses 
 of the Alps occasionally, and the day was beautiful, mak- 
 ing everything look picturesque and charming. It was 
 rather a relief to get out of the rice fields and little canals. 
 We stopped some little time at Novara — where we had a 
 good cup of coffee. As we got near Turin everything 
 looked very green. There seemed to be more trees and
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 213 
 
 little woods than in the neighbourhood of Milan. The 
 hotel porter was waiting for us at the station with a car- 
 riage — so we drove straight off, leaving Madame Hubert 
 in charge of the porter, who spoke French perfectly, to 
 follow with the trunks. 
 
 The hotel is on the great Place du Chateau, faces the 
 Palazzo Madama. They have given us a nice apartment, 
 with windows and a good balcony looking out on the 
 Place. We went upstairs immediately to inspect the 
 rooms — the padrone himself conducting us. There were 
 flowers on the table, nice lounging chairs on the bal- 
 cony. It looked charming. He wanted to send us tea 
 or coffee — but we really couldn't take anything as it 
 wasn't more than two hours since we had had a very 
 fair little gouter at Novara. We said we would dine 
 in the restaurant about 8. He was rather anxious we 
 should have our dinner in the anteroom which was large 
 and light — often used for a dining-room — but we told 
 him we much preferred dining downstairs and seeing the 
 people. 
 
 We brushed off a little dust — it wasn't a very dirty 
 journey — and started off for a stroll across the Piazza 
 Castello. It is a fine large square, high buildings all 
 around it, and the great mediaeval pile Palazzo Madama 
 facing us as we went in. It looked more like a for- 
 tress than a palace, but there is a fine double stair- 
 case and facade with marble columns and statues — white, 
 I suppose, originally, but now rather mellowed with years 
 and exposure and taking a soft pink tint in the waning 
 sunlight. It was inhabited by the mother of one of the 
 kings, "Madama Reale," hence its name. There is a monu- 
 ment to the Sardinian army in front of the palace with 
 very elaborate bas-reliefs. They told us there was noth- 
 ing to see inside, so we merely walked all around it, and
 
 214 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 then went over to the Palazzo Reale, which is a large 
 brick building, with no pretensions to architecture. They 
 say it is very handsome inside — large, high rooms, very 
 luxuriously furnished. Somehow or other luxuriously 
 furnished apartments don't seem to go with Princes of 
 the House of Savoy. One can't imagine them reclining 
 in ladies' boudoirs on satin cushions, with silk and damask 
 hangings. They seem always to have been simple, 
 hardy soldiers, more at home on a battle-field than in a 
 drawing-room. We asked at the entrance if the Due 
 d'Aoste was here. He told us when he was in Paris 
 that if ever we came to Turin we must let him know — 
 that he always received twice a week in the evening when 
 he was at home and that he would be delighted to see us (I 
 had put an evening dress in my trunk in case we should 
 be invited anywhere) — however he isn't here, away in the 
 country for three or four days on some inspection — so 
 we wrote ourselves down in the book that he might see 
 that we intended to pay our respects. 
 
 We walked through some of the squares — Piazza Car- 
 ignano, with the great palace Carignano which also looks 
 grim and frowning, more like a prison than a stately 
 princely residence. I wonder if there are any what we 
 should call comfortable rooms in those gaunt old palaces. 
 I have visions of barred windows, very small panes of 
 glass, brick floors, frescoed ceilings black with age and 
 smoke, and straight-backed, narrow carved wooden chairs. 
 However a fine race of sturdy, fighting men were brought 
 up within those old walls — perhaps Italy would not 
 have been " unita " so soon if the pioneers of freedom 
 had been accustomed to all the luxury and gaiety of the 
 present generation. 
 
 We wandered back through more squares and saw 
 numberless statues of Princes and Dukes of Savoy —
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 215 
 
 almost all equestrian — the Princes in armour, and gen- 
 erally a drawn sword in their hand — one feels that they 
 were a fighting race. 
 
 The hills all around the city are charming, beautifully 
 green, with hundreds of villas (generally white) in all 
 directions ; some so high up one wonders how the inhabi- 
 tants ever get up there. In the distance always the beau- 
 tiful snow mountains. The town doesn't look either 
 very Italian or very Southern. I suppose the Piedmont- 
 ese are a type apart. 
 
 We had a table to ourselves in the dining-room, which 
 was almost empty — evidently people dine earlier than we 
 do — and yet it is tempting to stay out on a lovely sum- 
 mer evening. There were several officers in uniform at 
 one table — evidently a sort of mess — about 10. They 
 were rather noisy, making all sorts of jokes with the 
 waiters, but they had nearly finished when we came in 
 and soon departed with a great clatter of spurs and 
 swords. We went for a few moments into the reading- 
 room, which was also quite deserted — only two couples, 
 an English clergyman and his wife both buried in their 
 papers — and a German menage discussing routes and 
 guides and prices for some excursion they wanted to 
 make. 
 
 I had kept on my hat as we thought we would go out, 
 take a turn in the arcades and have a " granita." The 
 padrone told us of a famous cafe where the " granita " 
 was very good, also very good music. W. is becoming 
 such a flaneur, and so imbued with the dolce far niente 
 of this enchanting country that I am rather anxious 
 about him. I think he will want to go every evening 
 to the " Ambassadeurs " when we get back to Paris. 
 
 We strolled about for some time. It was cool and 
 there were not too many people. Everybody sitting out,
 
 i\6 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 smoking and drinking. We got a nice little table — each 
 took an ice (they were very good — not too sweet), and 
 the music was really charming — quite a large orchestra, 
 all guitars and mandolins. Whenever they played a 
 well-known air — song or waltz — the whole company 
 joined in. It sounded very pretty — they didn't sing too 
 loud, and enjoyed themselves extremely. We stayed 
 some time. 
 
 I am writing as usual, late, while W. is putting his 
 notes in order. He found a note, when he came in, from 
 the Director of the Museum, saying he would be delighted 
 to see W. at the Museum to-morrow morning at 9 o'clock, 
 and would do the honours of the cabinet de medailles — 
 also the card of a Mr. Hoffman who wants very much to 
 see W. and renew his acquaintance with him after many 
 years. He is in this hotel and will come and see us to- 
 morrow. W. has no idea who he is, but of course there 
 are many Hoffmans in the world. I suppose the gentle- 
 man will explain himself. If it is fine we shall drive to 
 the Superga to-morrow afternoon, and start for Paris the 
 next evening. W. says three seances (and his are long) 
 will be all he wants in the Museum. 
 
 May 14th. 
 It has been again a lovely summer day — not too hot, 
 and a delicious breeze as we drove home from La 
 Superga. I have been out all day. W. was off at 9 
 to meet his Director, and I started at 10 with Madame 
 Hubert to flaner a little. We went first to the ar- 
 cades where are all the best shops, but I can't say I was 
 tempted. There was really nothing to buy — some nice 
 blankets, half silk, half wool — not striped like the Como 
 blankets, a plain centre, red or blue, with a bright 
 border — but it was not a day to buy blankets, with the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 217 
 
 sun bright and strong over our heads. There was a good 
 deal of iron work, rather nice. I didn't care for the jew- 
 ellery. I didn't see myself with a wrought-iron chain 
 and cross, but I did get a large ring — strong and pret- 
 tily worked, which the man said many people bought to 
 put in a hall and hang keys on. There were plenty of 
 people about. I didn't think the peasants were any par- 
 ticular type — the men looked smaller than those about 
 Milan — slight, wiry figures. A good many were evi- 
 dently guides, with axes and coils of rope strapped on 
 their backs. They told us in one of the shops (where as 
 a true American I was asking questions, eager for infor- 
 mation) that there were several interesting excursions to 
 be made in the neighbourhood. 
 
 We went again to the Piazzo Castello which is so large 
 that it is a very fair walk to go all around the square — 
 and went into the hall to see the statue (equestrian of 
 course) of Victor Amadeus the First. The horse is 
 curious, in marble. Then we went to the Cathedral, 
 which is not very interesting. The sacristan showed us 
 a collection of small, dark pictures over the altar which 
 he said were by Albert Diirer ; but they were so black and 
 confused I couldn't see anything — a little glimpse of gild- 
 ing every now and then that might be a halo around a 
 saint's head. What was interesting was the " Cappella 
 del S. S. Sudario," where the linen cloth is kept which is 
 said to have enveloped the body of our Saviour. It is 
 kept in an urn, and only shown by special permission. 
 This, however, the sacristan obtained for us. He disap- 
 peared into the sacristy and soon returned bringing with 
 him a nice fat old priest in full canonicals and very con- 
 versationally disposed. He lifted off the top of the urn 
 and drew out the linen cloth most carefully. It is very 
 fine linen, quite yellow and worn — almost in holes in
 
 ai 8 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 some parts. He spread it out most reverently on a mar- 
 ble slab, and showed us the outlines of a man's figure. 
 Marks there were certainly. I thought I saw the head 
 distinctly, but of course the imagination is a powerful 
 factor on these occasions. The chapel was dimly lighted, 
 a few tapers burning, and the old priest was so convinced 
 and reverent that it was catching. I suppose it might be 
 possible — certainly all these traditions and relics were an 
 enormous strength to the Catholic Church in the early 
 days when there were no books and little learning, and 
 people believed more easily and simply than they do now. 
 The chapel is a rather ugly, round building, almost black, 
 and with a quantity of statues (white) which stand out 
 well. It is the burial chapel of the House of Savoy, and 
 there are statues apparently to every Emmanuel or Ama- 
 deus that ever existed — also a large marble monument to 
 the late Queen of Sardinia. Do you remember when 
 Prince Massimo, in Rome, always spoke of Victor Em- 
 manuel, when he was King of Italy, and holding his court 
 in Florence, as the King of Sardinia? 
 
 We had walked about longer than we thought, but 
 everything is close together, and it was time to get back 
 to the hotel for breakfast. I had the dining-room almost 
 to myself — my table was drawn up close to the open win- 
 dow, a vase of roses upon it, and one or two papers — 
 English, Italian, and the " Figaro." Paris seems to be 
 amusing itself. Henrietta writes that the Champs 
 Elysees are enchanting — all the horse chestnuts in full 
 bloom. Here there is abundance of flowers — one gets 
 glimpses of pretty gardens through open gates and open- 
 ings in railings and walls. There are plenty of street 
 stalls, too, with fruits and flowers, but one doesn't see 
 the wealth of roses and wistaria climbing over every bit 
 of wall and up the sides of houses as in Florence. The
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 219 
 
 city is perfectly busy and prosperous, but has none of the 
 delightful look of laziness and enjoyment of life and the 
 blue sky and the sunshine that one feels in Rome and 
 Florence. 
 
 W. came in about 3, having had a delightful morning 
 in the cabinet des medailles. The Director, a most 
 learned, courteous old gentleman, was waiting for him, 
 and though he knew W. and his collection by reputation, 
 he was quite surprised to find that W. knew quite as much 
 about his coins and treasures as he did himself. He 
 hadn't supposed it possible that a statesman with so many 
 interests and calls upon his time could have kept up his 
 scientific work. 
 
 We shall leave to-morrow night, and before we started 
 for our drive we sent off letters and telegrams to Paris. 
 I can hardly believe it possible that Friday morning I 
 shall be breakfasting in Paris, going to mother to tea 
 in the afternoon, and taking up my ordinary life. Hen- 
 rietta writes that she has told Francis we are coming- 
 home, but frankness compels her to say that he has re- 
 ceived that piece of information with absolute indiffer- 
 ence. He has been as happy as a king all the months we 
 have been away — spoiled to his heart's content and every- 
 body in the two establishments his abject slaves. 
 
 We started about 4 for La Superga in a nice light 
 basket carriage and pair of strong little horses. It was 
 rather interesting driving all through the town, which 
 is comparatively small — one is soon out of it. The 
 streets are narrow, once one is out of the great 
 thoroughfares, with high houses on each side. Every 
 now and then an interesting cornice with a curious round 
 tower and some funny old-fashioned houses with high 
 pointed roofs and iron balconies running quite around the 
 house, but on the whole it is much less picturesque and
 
 iio ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 colder looking than the other Italian cities. The road 
 was not very animated — few vehicles of any description, 
 a few fiacres evidently bound for the Superga like us. 
 There were not many carts nor many people about. 
 What was lovely was the crown of green hills with little 
 chestnut groves — some of the little woods we drove 
 through were quite charming, with the long slanting 
 rays of the afternoon sun shining through the branches 
 — just as I remember the Galleria di Sotto at Albano 
 — the chestnuts grow high on all the hillsides. We 
 had quite a stiff mount before we got to the church 
 (but the little horses trotted up very fairly) and a good 
 climb after we left the carriage. One sees the church 
 from a long distance. It has a fine colonnade and a 
 high dome which lifts itself well up into the clouds. 
 We followed a pretty steep, winding path up to the top, 
 quantities of wild roses, a delicate pink, like our eglantine 
 at home, twisting themselves around the bushes. There 
 is nothing particularly interesting in the church. It is 
 the burial place of the Kings of Savoy, and their vault 
 is in the crypt. The last one buried there was Charles 
 Albert. Victor Emmanuel is buried in the Pantheon in 
 Rome. We found a nice old sacristan who took us about 
 and explained various statues to us — also all the glories 
 of the Casa di Savoia, winding up with an enthusias- 
 tic eulogy of Queen Margherita — but never as Queen of 
 Italy, " nostra Principessa." She has certainly made 
 herself a splendid place in the hearts of the people — they 
 all adore her. We climbed up to the roof, and what a 
 view we had, all Turin at our feet with its domes and 
 high, pointed roofs, standing in the midst of the green 
 plain dotted all over with villas, farms, gardens, little 
 groves of chestnuts, the river meandering along through 
 the meadows carpeted with flowers, and looking in the
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 221 
 
 sunlight like a gold zig-zag with its numerous turns — 
 always the beautiful crown of hills, and in the back- 
 ground the snow peaks of the Alps. It was very clear 
 — they looked so near, as if one could throw a stone 
 across. Our old man pointed out all the well-known 
 peaks — Monte Rosa, Mont Cenis, and many others whose 
 names I didn't catch. He said he had rarely seen the 
 whole chain so distinct. It reminded me of the view 
 we had of the Bernese Oberland so many years ago — 
 the first time we had seen snow mountains. On ar- 
 riving at Berne we were hurried out on the terrace by 
 the padrone of the hotel as he said we might never 
 again see all the chain of the Alps so distinctly. Beau- 
 tiful it was — all the snow mountains rolling away in the 
 distance; some of them straight up into the sunset clouds, 
 others with little wreaths of white soft clouds half way 
 up their summits, and clouds and snow so mingled that 
 one could hardly distinguish which was snow. I thought 
 they were all clouds — beautiful, airy intangible shapes. 
 
 We loitered about some time on the terrace after we 
 came down, watching the lights fade and finally disappear 
 — the mountains looking like great grey giants frowning 
 down on the city. The air was decidedly cooler as we 
 drove home, but it was a perfect summer evening. There 
 were more people out as we got near Turin — all the work- 
 ers getting a little breath of air after the toil of the day. 
 
 May 15th. 
 I will send this very long letter off this evening. Our 
 trunks are packed and downstairs, and I will finish this 
 while we are waiting for dinner. We have had a nice 
 day. Madame Hubert and I strolled about this morning 
 and went to see the house where Cavour was born, and 
 also to the Giardino Pubblico. The grounds are hand-
 
 222 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 some, but not particularly interesting at that hour in the 
 morning, and there wasn't a creature there but ourselves. 
 There are various monuments — one of Manin with a fine 
 figure of the Republic of Venice. 
 
 I breakfasted as usual alone, and at 3 W. came in, hav- 
 ing quite finished his work at the Museum. He had 
 given rendezvous to Mr. Hoffman for 3.30, and while 
 we were sitting talking waiting for him the padrone 
 came up and said an officer " de la part du Due d'Aoste " 
 wanted to see us. We begged him of course to send him 
 up, and in a few minutes a very good-looking young offi- 
 cer in uniform made his appearance. He named himself 
 — Count Colobiano I think — but we didn't catch the name 
 very distinctly ; said he had had the honour of dining with 
 us at the Quai d'Orsay with his Prince, and that the Prince 
 was " desole " not to be in Turin these days and had 
 sent him to put himself at our disposition. He proposed 
 all sorts of things — the opera, a drive (or a ride if we 
 preferred) to a sort of parade ground just outside the 
 gates where we would see some cavalry manoeuvres. He 
 knew I rode, and could give me a capital lady's hack. I 
 was rather sorry he hadn't come before — it would have 
 amused us to see the manoeuvres, and also to ride — but 
 that would have been difficult as I had no habit with me. 
 However, as we are leaving this evening there was noth- 
 ing to be done. He was very civil and I think rather 
 sorry not to do us the honours of his city. He said there 
 were beautiful excursions to be made from Turin, and 
 asked us if we had seen anything. We said only the 
 Superga which he evidently didn't consider very in- 
 teresting. He said the Duke was very sorry to have 
 missed us, and that he thought I would have enjoyed an 
 evening at the Palace, as the receptions were very gay 
 and informal. I cannot imagine (I didn't tell him that)
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 223 
 
 anything gay with the Due d'Aoste. He is very sym- 
 pathetic to me, but a type apart. A stern, almost ascetic 
 appearance, very silent and shy, but a beautiful smile. 
 He looks exactly as one would imagine a Prince of the 
 House of Savoy would. We saw him often in Paris, 
 and his face always interested me — so grave, and as if he 
 were miles away from the ordinary modern world. It 
 was just after he had given up his Spanish throne, and 
 although I didn't think that crown weighed very heavily 
 on his brow he must have had some curious experiences 
 and seen human nature in perhaps not its best form. The 
 young aide-de-camp paid us quite a visit, and we made 
 him promise to come and see us if ever he came to Paris. 
 We sent all sorts of messages and regrets to the Duke. 
 Just as he was going out Mr. Hoffman appeared and he 
 sat an hour with us. He was delightful, has lived almost 
 all his life in and near Turin, and had all the history of 
 Piedmont at his fingers' ends. He seems to have met W. 
 years ago at a dinner in London and has always followed 
 his career with much interest. It was most interesting 
 to hear him talk. He admires Cavour immensely — said 
 his death was a great calamity for Italy — that he hadn't 
 given half of what he could, and that every year he lived 
 he grew in intellect and knowledge of people. He also 
 said (as they all do) that he mistrusted Louis Napoleon 
 so intensely, and through all their negotiations and dis- 
 cussions as to Italy's future he was pursued by the idea 
 that the Emperor would go back upon his word. He 
 said the Piedmontese were a race apart — hardly consid- 
 ered themselves Italian, and that even now in the little 
 hamlets in the mountains the peasants had vague ideas of 
 nationality, and never spoke of themselves as Italians, or 
 identified themselves with Italian interests and history — 
 that in the upper classes traces of French occupation and
 
 224 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 education, superstition and priestly rule were just getting 
 effaced. For years in the beginning of the century the 
 priests (Jesuits) had it all their own way in Turin. The 
 teaching in the schools was entirely in their hands, and 
 most elementary ; and numerous convents and monaster- 
 ies were built. Cavour as a very young man soon eman- 
 cipated himself from all those ideas, and if he had lived, 
 Hoffman thinks, much trouble would have been averted, 
 and that he would certainly have found some means of 
 coming to a better understanding with the Vatican, " the 
 most brilliant and far-seeing intellect I have ever met." 
 
 He wanted to take us to some palace where there are 
 some very curious and inedites letters of Cavour's to 
 the owner, who was one of his friends, and always on 
 very confidential terms with him; but of course we 
 couldn't do that as we are off in a few hours. 
 
 Hoffman would never have gone, I think, if the 
 padrone hadn't appeared to say dinner was ready. I 
 left him and W. talking while I went to give some last 
 instructions to the maid, and when I got back to the salon 
 they had drifted away from Cavour and Piedmont and 
 were discussing French politics, the attitude of Germany 
 and the anti-religious feeling in France. 
 
 I shall miss all the talk about Italy and her first strug- 
 gles for independence when I get home. French people, 
 as a rule, care so little for outside things. They travel 
 very little, don't read much foreign literature, and are 
 quite absorbed in their own interests and surroundings. 
 Of course they are passing through a curious phase — so 
 many old things passing away — habits and traditions of 
 years upset, and the new regime not yet sufficiently estab- 
 lished nor supported by all that is best in the country. 
 I think W. has been impressed and rather surprised at the 
 very easy way in which all religious questions are dis-
 
 i88o] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 225 
 
 posed of in Italy, and yet the people are certainly super- 
 stitious and have a sort of religious feeling. The 
 churches are all full on great feast days, and one sees 
 great big young peasants kneeling and kissing relics 
 when they are exposed ; and several times even here about 
 Turin we have seen men and women kneeling at some of 
 the crosses along the road. I have rarely seen that in 
 France — but then the Italians are a more emotional race. 
 They are difficult problems — a country can't live without 
 a religion. 
 
 Rue Dumont d'Urville. 
 We got back yesterday morning early. Hubert and 
 the big mare were waiting for us, and we were whirled 
 up to the house in a very un-Italian manner (for the 
 horses in Italy are just as easy-going as the people and 
 never hurry themselves nor display any undue energy). 
 Francis and " nounou " were waiting at the door — he 
 really quite excited and pleased to see us — and the sisters 
 appeared about 11. We talked a little and they helped 
 me unpack ; and I went to see mother directly after break- 
 fast and stayed there all the afternoon. This morning I 
 am writing as usual at the window and hearing all the 
 familiar Paris sounds. The goat-boy has just passed 
 with his 6 goats and curious reed pipe, the marchande 
 de cressons with her peculiar cry advertising her mer- 
 chandise, and ending " pour la sante du corps " on a long 
 shrill note — the man who sits on the pavement and mends 
 china. He is just at our door, and has a collection of 
 broken plates and cups around him. I suppose some are 
 ours. The " light lady " next door is standing at her 
 door in her riding habit, the skirt already very short and 
 held well up over her arm displaying a fair amount of 
 trousers and high boots. She is haranguing in very
 
 226 ITALIAN LETTERS [May 
 
 forcible language the groom who is cantering the horse 
 up and down the street, and of course even in our quiet 
 street there are always badauds who stop and ask ques- 
 tions, and hang around the porte-cocheres to see all that 
 is going on. W. has just started on horseback and that 
 is a most interesting moment for the street, for his big 
 black " Paddy " has a most uncomfortable trick. From 
 the moment he takes the bridle in his hand and pre- 
 pares to mount, the horse snorts, and stamps and backs, 
 making such a noise in the little court-yard you would 
 think he was kicking everything to pieces. As soon as 
 the big doors are opened and he can get out he is as quiet 
 as a lamb. 
 
 It is a beautiful morning and Paris looks its best — all 
 the horse-chestnuts in full bloom, the sky a bright blue, 
 and quantities of equipages and riders streaming out to 
 the Bois. I suppose I shall ride too in a day or so, and 
 by the end of the week Italy will be a thing of the past, 
 and I shall be leading my ordinary Paris life. 
 
 There was a procession of people here all the afternoon 
 yesterday to see W., and now he is quite au courant 
 of all that has taken place in his absence, and I think in 
 his heart he is delighted to be back and in the thick of the 
 fight again. He is going to the Senate this afternoon. 
 
 We had a most comfortable journey from Turin — a lit- 
 salon to ourselves, the maid just behind us. All the first 
 hours were charming as long as we could see as all the 
 country about Turin is so lovely. We passed Moncalieri 
 which stands high on the hills — a long low building, and 
 one or two other fine old castles, all perched high on the 
 slope of the mountains. I always sleep so well in a train 
 that I was hardly awake when we passed at Modane, 
 though I was dimly conscious of the stop, the lanterns 
 flashing along the train and a great deal of conversation.
 
 i88oj OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 227 
 
 Nobody disturbed us as we had given our " laissez- 
 passer " to the garde, but I fancy we made a long halt 
 there as the train was very crowded. We had our coffee 
 at Dijon very early in the morning. It was quite pleas- 
 ant to see the regular little French brioche again. 
 
 I went to tea with Mother and afterward we went for 
 a turn in the Bois, which looked beautiful — so green — all 
 the horse-chestnuts out (the road from Auteuil to Bou- 
 logne with the rows of red horse-chestnuts on each side 
 quite enchanting) ; the hills, St. Cloud and Mont Valerien 
 blue and standing out sharply against the sky, but I missed 
 the delicious soft atmosphere of Italy and the haze that 
 always hung around the hills and softened all the out- 
 lines. The Seine looked quite animated. There really 
 were one or two small boats out, and near Puteaux (the 
 club) some women rowing, and of course the little river 
 steamers flying up and down, crowded. 
 
 We are dining with l'Oncle Alphonse who will give us 
 all the news of the day, and the opinion of the " Union."
 
 PART II 
 ITALY REVISITED 
 
 To H. L. K. 
 
 Rome, Friday, February 12, 1904. 
 
 It seems so strange to be back here, dear, after twenty- 
 four years, and to find Rome so changed, so unchanged. 
 The new quarter, an absolutely new modern city, might 
 be Wiesbaden, or Neuilly, or any cheerful resort of re- 
 tired business men who build hideous villas with all sorts 
 of excrescences — busts, vases, and plaques of bright-col- 
 oured majolica — and the old city with the dirty little 
 winding streets going toward St. Peter's exactly the 
 same; almost the same little ragged, black-eyed children 
 playing in the gutters. 
 
 We had a most comfortable journey down. Hardly 
 any one in the sleeping-car but ourselves, so we all had 
 plenty of room. It was a bright, beautiful morning 
 when we got to Modane — the mountains covered with 
 snow, and the fresh keen wind blowing straight from the 
 glaciers was enchanting after a night in the sleeping-car. 
 They are frightfully overheated. I had some difficulty 
 in persuading the attendant to open my window for the 
 night; however, as I was alone in my compartment, he 
 finally agreed, merely saying he would come and shut 
 it when we passed through the great tunnel. We dined 
 at the buffet at Genoa, and it didn't seem natural not to 
 ask for the Alassio train. The station was crowded, the 
 
 229
 
 230 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 Roman train too — they put on extra carriages. We got 
 to Rome about 9.30. I had been ready since 6.30, 
 eagerly watching to get a glimpse of St. Peter's. I had 
 visions of Civita Vecchia and running along by the sea in 
 the early morning. 
 
 I was quite awake, but I didn't see St. Peter's until we 
 were quite near Rome. We ran through long, level 
 stretches of Campagna, with every now and then a great 
 square building that had been probably a mediaeval castle, 
 but was now a farm — sheep and cattle wandering out of 
 the old gateway, and those splendid big white oxen that 
 one sees all over the Campagna — some shepherds' huts 
 with their pointed thatched roofs dotted about, but noth- 
 ing very picturesque or striking. We passed close to 
 San Paolo Fuori le Mura, with the Testaccio quite near. 
 We paid ourselves compliments when we arrived at the 
 station for having made our long journey so easily and 
 pleasantly. No one was tired and no one was bored. 
 Between us all (we were four women) we had plenty of 
 provisions and Bessie * and Mme. de Bailleul were most 
 successful with their afternoon tea, with delicious Ameri- 
 can cake, that Bessie had brought over in the steamer. 
 
 After all, Josephine f finds she has room for me and my 
 maid, which of course is infinitely pleasanter for me than 
 being at the hotel. Her house is charming — not one of 
 the old palaces, but plenty of room and thoroughly Italian. 
 The large red salon I delight in; it couldn't exist any- 
 where else but in Rome, with its red silk walls, heavy gilt 
 furniture, pictures, and curious bits of old carving and 
 majolica. It opens into a delightful music-room with 
 fine frescoes on the walls (a beautiful bit of colour), and 
 beyond that there is a small salon where we usually sit. 
 
 ♦Marquise de Talleyrand- Perigord, nee Curtis. 
 f Princess di Poggio-Suasa, nee Curtis.
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 231 
 
 She has a picture there of her husband, Don Emanuele 
 Ruspoli (late syndic of Rome), which has rather taken 
 possession of me. It is such a handsome, spirited face, 
 energetic and rather imperious — he looks a born ruler 
 of men, and I believe he was. They say Rome was never 
 so well governed as in his time. He was one of the first 
 of the young Roman nobles who emancipated themselves 
 from the papal rule. As quite a youth he ran away from 
 college and entered the Italian army as a simple soldier, 
 winning his grade as captain on the battle-field. He was 
 a loyal and devoted servant of the House of Savoy, and 
 took a prominent part in all the events which ended in 
 proclaiming Victor Emanuel King of Italy, with Rome 
 his capital. 
 
 This quarter, Piazza Barberini, is quite new to me. It 
 used to seem rather far off in the old days when we came 
 to see the Storys in the Barberini Palace, but now it is 
 quite central. The great new street — Via Veneto — runs 
 straight away from the Piazza, past the Church of the 
 Cappucini — you will remember the vaults with all the 
 dead monks standing about — the Palace of the Queen 
 Mother, and various large hotels, to Porta Pinciana. 
 Just the other side of the road is the new gate opening 
 into the Villa Borghese. I rather lost myself there the 
 first day I prowled about alone. It was raining, but I 
 wanted some air, and turned into the Via Veneto, which 
 is broad and clean. I walked quite to the end, and then 
 came to the Porta Pinciana, crossed the road, and found 
 myself in a beautiful villa. I didn't come upon any 
 special landmark until I got near the Museum, which, of 
 course, looked quite familiar. However, I was bewil- 
 dered and hailed a passing groom to inquire where I was, 
 and even when he told me could scarcely believe it. I 
 had never gone into the Villa Borghese except by the
 
 232 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 Piazza del Popolo. They have made extraordinary 
 changes since the Government has bought it — opened 
 out new roads and paths, planted quantities of trees and 
 flowers, and cleaned up and trimmed in every direction. 
 It will be a splendid promenade in the heart of the city, 
 but no longer the old Villa Borghese we used to know, 
 with ragged, unkempt corners, and little paths in out-of- 
 the way places, so choked up with weeds and long grass 
 that one could hardly get through. 
 
 I haven't quite got my bearings yet, and for the first 
 three or four mornings I took myself down to the Piazza 
 di Spagna, and started from there. There, too, there are 
 changes — new houses and shops (I was glad to see old 
 Spithoever in the same place) and a decided look of 
 business and modern life. There were not nearly so 
 many people doing nothing, lounging about, leaning on 
 the " barca," or playing mora on the Spanish Steps. 
 All the botte were still standing in the middle of the 
 street, the coachmen smiling, cracking their whips, and 
 making frantic little dashes across the piazza whenever 
 they saw an unwary stranger who might want a cab. 
 
 The Spanish Steps looked beautiful, glowing with colour 
 — pink, yellow, and that soft grey tint that the Roman 
 stones take in the sunlight. All the lower steps are cov- 
 ered with flower stalls (they are not allowed any longer 
 scattered all over the piazza), and most picturesque they 
 looked — daffodils, mimosa, and great bunches of peach- 
 blossoms which were very effective. There were very 
 few models in costume sitting about ; a few children play- 
 ing some sort of game with stones, which they inter- 
 rupted to run after the forestieri and ask for a " pic- 
 colo soldo " (a penny), and one or two old men with long 
 white beards — might have done for models of the apos- 
 tles or Joseph in the flight into Egypt — wrapped in their
 
 i 9 o 4 J OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 233 
 
 wonderful long green cloaks, sitting in the sun. There 
 is one novelty — an " ascenseur." I haven't been in it 
 yet, but I shall try it some day. One must get accus- 
 tomed to many changes in the Rome of to-day. 
 
 I recognised some of the houses at the top of the steps 
 — the corner one between Vias Sistina and Gregoriana, 
 where the Rodmans used to live one year, and where we 
 have dined so often, sitting on the round balcony and 
 seeing the moon rise over the Pincio. 
 
 I walked home the other day by the Via Sistina to the 
 Piazza Barberini, and that part seemed to me absolutely 
 unchanged. The same little open mosaic shops, with the 
 workmen dressed in white working at the door — almost 
 in the street. In one shop they were just finishing a 
 table, putting in countless bits of coloured marble (some of 
 them very small). It was exactly like the one we brought 
 from Rome many years ago, which stands now in Francis's 
 smoking-room. There was of course the inevitable 
 jeweller's shop, with crosses and brooches of dull yellow 
 Roman gold and mosaic, and silk shops with Roman silk 
 scarfs, and a sort of coarse lace which I have seen every- 
 where. In the middle of the street a miserable wrinkled 
 old woman, her face mahogany colour, attired in a red 
 skirt with a green handkerchief on her head, was skirmish- 
 ing with a band of dirty little children, who had apparently 
 upset her basket of roast chestnuts, and were making off 
 with as many as they could find, pursued by her shrill 
 cries and " maledizioni." 
 
 We went out in the open carriage yesterday, and drove 
 all around Rome leaving cards — finished with a turn in 
 the Villa Borghese and Pincio. It was too late for the 
 Villa — almost every one had gone, and one felt the chill 
 strike one on going into the thick shade after coming out 
 of the bright sun in the Piazza del Popolo. We crossed
 
 234 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 Queen Margherita at the gate. She looked so handsome 
 
 the black is very becoming and threw out well her fair 
 
 hair and skin. She was driving in a handsome carriage 
 — the servants in mourning. One lady was with her — 
 another carriage and two cyclists following. All the 
 people bowed and looked so pleased to see her, and her 
 bow and smile of acknowledgment were charming. 
 
 We made a short turn in the Villa and then went on 
 to the Pincio, which was crowded. There were some 
 very handsome, stately Roman equipages, plenty of light 
 victorias, a few men driving themselves in very high 
 phaetons, and the inevitable botta with often three youths 
 on the one seat. The carriages didn't draw up — the 
 ladies holding a sort of reception as in our days, when 
 all the " gilded youth " used to sit on the steps of the 
 victorias and surround the carriages of the pretty women. 
 They tell me the present generation comes much less to 
 the Villa Borghese and Pincio. They are much more 
 sporting — ride, drive automobiles and play golf. There 
 are two golf clubs now — one at Villa Pamphili Doria, the 
 other at Aqua Santa. Every time we go out on the Cam- 
 pagna we meet men with golf clubs and rackets. 
 
 Monday I prowled about in the morning, always 
 making the same round — Via Sistina and the Spanish 
 Steps. The lame man at the top of the steps knows me 
 well now, and we always exchange a cheerful good 
 morning. Sometimes I give him some pennies and some- 
 times I don't, but he is always just as smiling when I 
 don't give him anything. 
 
 In the afternoon Madame de B. and I went for a drive 
 and a little sight-seeing. She wanted a bottle of euca- 
 lyptus from the monks at Tre Fontane, so we took in San 
 Paolo Fuori le Mura on our way. The drive out is 
 charming — a few dirty little streets at first — past the
 
 i9o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 235 
 
 Theatre of Marcellus, which looks blacker and grimmer, 
 if possible, than when I last saw it — and then some dis- 
 tance along the river. There are great changes — high 
 buildings, quays, boats, carts with heavy stones and quan- 
 tities of workmen — really quite an air of a busy port — 
 busy of course in a modified sense, as no Roman ever 
 looks as if he were working hard, and there are always 
 two or three looking on, and talking, for every one who 
 works — however, there is certainly much more life in 
 the streets and the city looks prosperous. 
 
 The great new Benedictine Monastery of Sant' Anselmo 
 stands splendidly on the heights (Aventine) to the left, 
 also the walls and garden of the Knights of Malta. The 
 garden, with its long shady walks, between rows of tall 
 cypress trees, looked most inviting. We left the Tes- 
 taccio and Protestant Cemetery on our right and followed 
 a long file of carriages evidently going, too, to San Paolo. 
 That of course looked exactly the same — an enormous 
 modern building with a wealth of splendid marble col- 
 umns inside. The proportions and great spaces are very 
 fine, and there was a brilliant effect of light and colour 
 (as every column is different). Some of the red-pink 
 was quite beautiful, but it is not in the least like a church 
 — not at all devotional. One can't imagine any poor 
 weary souls kneeling on that slippery, shining marble 
 pavement and pouring out their hearts in prayer. It is 
 more like a great hall or academy. We went out into 
 the quiet of the cloisters, which are interesting, some 
 curious old tombs and statues, but small for such a huge 
 basilica — always the square green plot in the centre with 
 a well. 
 
 We had some difficulty in making our way to the car- 
 riage through a perfect army of boys and men selling 
 photographs, postal cards, mosaic pins with views of the
 
 2 3 6 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 church, etc., also bits of marble, giallo antico, porphyry 
 and a piece of dark marble, almost black, which had come 
 from the Marmorata close by. 
 
 We went on to the Tre Fontane, about half an hour's 
 d r i ve — r eal country, quite charming. We didn't see the 
 churches until we were quite close to them — they are 
 almost hidden by the trees. I never should have recog- 
 nised the place. The eucalyptus trees which the monks 
 were just beginning to plant when we were here before 
 have grown up into a fine avenue. They were cutting 
 and trimming them, and the ground was covered with 
 great branches making a beautiful green carpet with a 
 strong perfume. Various people were looking on and 
 almost every one carried off a branch of eucalyptus. We 
 did too, and one is now hanging over the bed in my room. 
 It is supposed to be very healthy. It has a very strong 
 odour — to me very agreeable. 
 
 A service was going on in one of the churches, the 
 monks singing a low monotonous chant, and everything 
 was so still ; one was so shut in by the trees that the out- 
 side world, Rome and the Corso might have been miles 
 away. We went into the church to see the three foun- 
 tains built into the wall. Tradition says that when St. 
 Paul was executed his head bounded three times and at 
 each place a fountain sprang up. A tall young monk was 
 going about with some seminarists explaining the legend 
 to them. They were listening with rapt attention and 
 drinking reverently at each fountain. 
 
 We went into the little farmacia and found there a 
 German monk who was much pleased when he found we 
 could speak German. He told us there were 90 monks 
 there, and that the place was perfectly healthy — not as 
 when they began their work, when many died of fever. 
 We each bought a bottle of eucalyptus, and were sorry to
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 237 
 
 come away. The light was fading — the eucalyptus ave- 
 nue looked dark and mysterious, and the low chant of 
 the monks was still going on. 
 
 We went to a beautiful ball in the evening at the Bran- 
 caccios'. They built their palace — which is enormous — 
 has a fine marble staircase (which showed off the 
 women's long trailing skirts splendidly) and quantities 
 of rooms filled with beautiful things. I didn't take them 
 all in as I was so much interested in the people, but Bessie 
 has promised to take me all over the palace some morning. 
 
 To-day we have been to the Brancaccio garden. It 
 was a beautiful bright morning, so Bessie Talleyrand pro- 
 posed we should drive up and stroll about there. We 
 telephoned to Brancaccio, who said he would meet us in 
 the garden. You can't imagine anything more enchant- 
 ing than that beautiful southern garden in the heart of 
 Rome. We drove through the courtyard and straight up 
 the hill to a little bridge that connects the garden with 
 Mrs. Field's old apartment. Mrs. Field really made the 
 garden (and loved it always). When they bought the 
 ground it was simply an "orto " or field, and now it is a 
 paradise filled with every possible variety of trees and 
 flowers. It seems that wherever she saw a beautiful tree 
 she immediately asked what it was and where it came 
 from, and then had some sent to her from no matter 
 where. Of course hundreds were lost — the journey, 
 change of soil, transplanting them, etc., but hundreds 
 remain and the effect is marvellous. Splendid tall palms 
 from Bordighera, little delicate shrubs from America and 
 Canada all growing and thriving side by side in the beau- 
 tiful Roman garden. There is a fine broad allee which 
 goes straight down from the winter garden to the end 
 of the grounds with the Colosseum as background. It 
 is planted on each side with green oaks, and between them
 
 238 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 rows of orange and mandarin trees — the branches heavy 
 with the fruit. We picked delicious, ripe, warm manda- 
 rins from the trees, and eat them as we were strolling 
 along. It was too early for the roses, of which there are 
 thousands in the season — one saw the plants twining 
 around all the trees. There are all sorts of ruins and old 
 walls in the garden, baths of Titus, Sette Celle, and one 
 comes unexpectedly, in odd corners, upon fine old bits 
 of carving and wall which have no name now, but which 
 certainly have had a history. 
 
 The sky was a deep blue over our heads, and the trees 
 so thick, that the ugly new buildings which skirt one side 
 of the garden are almost completely hidden. It was a 
 pleasure just to sit on a bench and live — the air was so 
 soft, and the garden smell so delicious. 
 
 After breakfast I went out early with Josephine — leav- 
 ing of course some cards first — after that we took a turn 
 on the Pincio, which was basking in the sunshine (but 
 quite deserted at that hour except by nurses and children), 
 and then drove out toward the Villa Pamphili. The road 
 was so familiar, and yet so different. The same steep 
 ascent to the Janiculum with the beggars and cripples of 
 all ages running alongside the carriage and holding out 
 withered arms and maimed limbs — awful to see. The 
 road is much wider — more of a promenade, trees and 
 flowers planted all along. The fountains of San Pietro 
 in Montorio looked beautiful — such a rush of bright, 
 dancing water. We drove through the Villa Corsini — 
 quite new since my time — a beautiful drive, and drew up 
 on the terrace just under the equestrian statue of Gari- 
 baldi from where there is a splendid view — the whole 
 city of Rome at our feet, seen through a warm, grey mist 
 that made even the ugly staring white and yellow houses 
 of the new quarter look picturesque. They lost them-
 
 i 9 o 4 J OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 239 
 
 selves in a charming ensemble. St. Peter's looked very 
 near but always a little veiled by the haze which made the 
 great mass more imposing. We looked straight across 
 the city to the Campagna — all the well-known monuments 
 — Cecilia Metella, aqueducts and the various tombs scat- 
 tered along the Via Appia were quite distinct. The 
 statue of the great revolutionary leader seemed curiously 
 out of place. I should have preferred almost the tradi- 
 tional wolf with the two little boys sucking in her milk. 
 We couldn't stay very long as we had a tea at home. We 
 met many people and carriages going up as we came 
 down, as it was the day for the Villa Pamphili, which is 
 open to the public twice a week. 
 
 We went to a ball at the Storys' in the evening, and 
 as we went up the great staircase of the Barberini Palace 
 (the steps so broad and shallow that one could drive up in 
 a light carriage) finishing with the steep little flight quite 
 at the top which leads directly to the Story apartment, I 
 could hardly realize how many years had passed since I 
 had first danced in these same rooms, and that I shouldn't 
 find the charming, genial maitre de maison of my youth 
 who made his house such an interesting centre. I think 
 one of Mr. Story's greatest charms was his absolute sim- 
 plicity, his keen interest in everything and his sympathy 
 with younger men who were still fighting the great battle 
 of life which he had brought to such a triumphant close. 
 His son, Waldo Story,* who has inherited his father's 
 talent, keeps up the hospitable traditions of the house. 
 
 The ball was very animated — all the young dancing 
 Rome was there. 
 
 * The well-known sculptor.
 
 $40 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 Monday, February 15th. 
 
 I am alone this morning — the others have gone to 
 the meet at Cecchignola fuori Porta San Sebastiano. I 
 should have liked to go for the sake of old times, but I 
 was rather tired, and have the court ball to-night. 
 
 Last night I had a pleasant dinner at Count Vitali's. 
 He has bought the Bandini palace, and made it, of course, 
 most comfortable and modern. The rooms are beautiful 
 — the splendid proportions and great space one only sees 
 now in Rome in the old palaces. The dinner was for 
 M. Nisard (French Ambassador to the Vatican), but it 
 wasn't altogether Black. There were one of the Queen's 
 ladies and one or two secretaries from the Quirinal em- 
 bassies. The line between the two parties is not nearly 
 so sharply drawn as when I was here so many years ago. 
 A few people came in the evening. Among the first to 
 appear was Cardinal Vincenzo Vannutelli, whom I was 
 delighted to see again. It is long since I have seen a 
 cardinal in all the bravery of his red robes and large 
 jewelled cross, and for the first time I felt as if I were back 
 in old Rome. We had a nice talk and plunged into Mos- 
 cow and all the coronation festivities. I told him I was 
 very anxious to see the Pope, which he said could easily 
 be arranged. Nisard, too, was charming — said I should 
 have an audience speciale as ancienne ambassadrice. I 
 waited to see the cardinal go with all the usual cere- 
 monies for a prince of the Church. Two big footmen 
 with flambeaux and tall candles escorted him to his car- 
 riage. The cardinal came alone, which surprised me. I 
 thought they always had an attendant — a sort of eccle- 
 siastical aide-de-camp. 
 
 Saturday Marquise de Bailleul and I were received by 
 the Queen. Our audience was at four. I went for her
 
 i9o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 241 
 
 a little before. We drove straight to the Quirinal, the 
 great entrance on the piazza. Two swell porters were 
 at the door, but no guards nor soldiers visible anywhere. 
 We went up the grand staircase, where there was a red 
 carpet and plenty of flowers, but no servants on the steps. 
 The doors of a large anteroom at the top of the stairs 
 were open, and there were four footmen in powder, 
 culottes, and royal red liveries, and three or four men 
 in black. We left our wraps. I wore my grey velvet 
 and Marquise de Bailleul was in black with a handsome 
 sable cape (which she was much disgusted at leaving). 
 We went at once into a large room, where the dame de 
 palais de service was waiting for us. She had a list 
 in her hand, came forward at once and named herself, 
 Duchesse d'Arscoli, said she supposed I was Madame 
 Waddington. I introduced Marquise de Bailleul. The 
 gentleman also came up and said a few words. There 
 were one or two other ladies in the room, evidently 
 waiting their turn. In a few minutes the door 
 into the next room opened and two ladies came out. 
 The duchess went in, remained a second, then com- 
 ing back, waved us in. She didn't come in herself, 
 didn't announce us, and shut the door behind us. 
 We found ourselves in a large, rather bare room, with 
 no trace of habitation — I fancy it is only used for 
 official receptions. The Queen was standing at a table 
 about the middle of the room. She is tall, dark, with 
 fine eyes and a pretty smile. We made our two curtseys 
 — hadn't time for the third, as she advanced a step, shook 
 hands, and made us sit down. The visit didn't last very 
 long. I fancy she was rather tired, as evidently she had 
 been receiving a good many people, and was probably 
 bored at having to make phrases to utter strangers she 
 might never see again. We had the usual royal questions
 
 242 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 as to our children. As I only had one child my conver- 
 sation on that subject soon came to an end, but Marquise 
 de Bailleul has three small ones, so she got on swim- 
 mingly. The Queen talked very prettily and simply 
 about her own children, and the difficulty of keeping them 
 natural and unspoiled ; said people gave them such beau- 
 tiful presents — all sorts of wonderful mechanical toys 
 which they couldn't appreciate. One thing she said was 
 rather funny — that the present they liked best was a rag 
 doll the American Ambassadress had brought them from 
 America. 
 
 As soon as we came out other people went in. I fancy 
 all the strangers asked to the ball had to be presented first 
 to the Queen. I think the London rule was rather sim- 
 pler. There the strangers were always presented at sup- 
 per, when the Princess of Wales made her " cercle." 
 
 We went to a ball in the evening at Baron Pasetti's 
 (Austrian Ambassador to the Quirinal). They have a 
 fine apartment in the Palazzo Chigi. I remembered the 
 rooms quite well, just as they were in the old days when 
 Wimpffen was Ambassador. The hall was most brill- 
 iant — all Rome there. The Pasettis are going away, and 
 will be much regretted. I think he is rather delicate and 
 has had enough of public life. I hadn't seen him since 
 Florence, when we were all young, and life was then a 
 succession of summer days — long afternoons in the villas, 
 with roses hanging over the walls, and evenings on the 
 balcony, with nightingales singing in the garden and the 
 scent of flowers in the air, " der goldener Zeit der jungen 
 Liebe " (the golden days of young love). 
 
 Sunday Bessie and I went to the American church. 
 Dr. Nevin is still away. The church is large, but was 
 quite full — there are evidently many Americans in Rome. 
 The great mosaics over the altar were given by Mrs. Field.
 
 i 9 o 4 j OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 243 
 
 Wednesday, February i7tn. 
 Monday night we went to the court ball. It was very 
 amusing, but extraordinarily simple, not to say demo- 
 cratic. Bessie and I went together early, so as to get 
 good seats. If I hadn't known we were going to the pal- 
 ace 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 look- 
 ing 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 cuirassiers and foot- 
 men in the anteroom — no chamberlains nor pages — noth- 
 ing 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.
 
 244 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 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 diploma- 
 tique," who were all massed on one side of the thrones 
 (or arm-chairs). He talked to the ambassadors and 
 etrangers de distinction (men — they say he rarely speaks 
 to a woman). We all moved about a little after the 
 Queen had passed, and I found plenty of old friends 
 and colleagues to talk to. Neither the Russian Ambas- 
 sador, Prince Ourousoff, nor any of his staff were pres- 
 ent, 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 unfortu- 
 nate 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. 
 
 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 classes. I should think the Car-
 
 Victor Emanuel III., King of Italy.
 
 i9o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 245 
 
 nival 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 coun- 
 try, or perhaps in Paris. It seems he is quite a char- 
 acter, 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 si, 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 quantities 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 orna- 
 mented with cheap statues and plaques of majolica and
 
 246 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 coloured marble. The tram stopped at the end of the 
 piazza facing the church, but one loses the sense of im- 
 mensity being so near. I saw merely the fagade and the 
 great stone perron. I wandered about for an hour find- 
 ing my way everywhere, and recognising all the old monu- 
 ments — 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 cor- 
 ners, 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 every- 
 where. 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 Pallaoicini. Her beautiful apartment looked 
 just the same (only there, too, is an ascenseur) with 
 the enormous anteroom and suites of salons before reach- 
 ing 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. 
 
 Saturday, February 20th. 
 These last two days have been beautiful — real Roman 
 days, bright blue sky, warm sun, and just air enough to
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 247 
 
 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 favour- 
 ite Apollo Belvedere, who hasn't grown any older in 24 
 years — the same beautiful, spirited young god. As I was 
 coming downstairs I saw some people going into the gar- 
 den from a side door, so I stepped up to the gardien, 
 and said I wanted to go too. He said it was quite im- 
 possible without a permesso signed by one of the offi- 
 cers of the Pope's household. I assured 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 pas- 
 sage and might not be able to come back another day, 
 and that as I was alone he really might let me pass — so 
 after a little conversation he chose a time when no one 
 was passing, opened the door as little as he could and let 
 me through. There were two or three parties being con- 
 ducted 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 mak- 
 ing 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 space, and I was 
 glad to get back to the dark cypress walks. It was en- 
 chanting, 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
 
 248 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 the present Pope for the Lagoons of Venice and the long 
 sweep of the Grand Canal to the sea. 
 
 Tuesday, 23d. 
 
 Yesterday Josephine and I drove out to the meet at 
 Acqua Santa, out of Porta San Giovanni. There were 
 quantities 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 
 Embassy (Vatican). Diemor played beautifully, so did 
 Teresina Tua. When they played together Griegg's so- 
 nata 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 charm- 
 ing apartment in one of the finest old palaces (Anticci 
 Mattei) in Rome. The staircase beautiful, most elabo- 
 rately 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.
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 249 
 
 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 pass. We 
 had the small coupe, with one horse, and it seems one- 
 horse vehicles are not allowed to enter these sacred pre- 
 cincts. 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 equi- 
 page 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 Ital- 
 ian, asking him the way, and he replied in German. I 
 fancy very few of them speak Italian. We passed 
 through a good many rooms filled with all sorts of 
 people : priests, officers, gardes nobles, women in black, 
 evidently waiting for an audience, valets de chambre 
 dressed in red damask, camerieri segreti in black vel- 
 vet doublets, ruffs and gold chains and cross — a most 
 picturesque and polyglot assemblage; one heard every 
 language under the sun. 
 
 We were passed 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 San- 
 tita), came forward and said the Pope was expecting
 
 250 
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 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 audi- 
 ence 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 passing 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."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Pope Pius X.
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 251 
 
 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 feel- 
 ing 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 add- 
 ing, " E per Lei e\ 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 Mon- 
 signor Bicletis, but he was very busy, other people going 
 in to the Pope, so we didn't stay and went down to Cardi- 
 nal Mery del Val's apartment. He receives in the beau- 
 tiful Borgia rooms, with Pinturicchio's marvellous fres- 
 coes (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 mas- 
 ters). The apartment was comparatively modern — 
 calorifere, electric light, ^bells, etc. While we were wait- 
 ing the Comte and Comtesse d'Eu and their party passed 
 through.
 
 252 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 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 — lis- 
 tened 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 audi- 
 ences, 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
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 253 
 
 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 bet- 
 ter 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 
 pass out — they wait hours for a smile from their be- 
 loved 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 Duchesse 
 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 Duchesse Sforza waved me 
 in (didn't come in herself). I had at once the impres- 
 sion 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 Qui- 
 rinal, 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,
 
 \J 
 
 254 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 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 Con- 
 ductor " and was much amused with it. We talked a lit- 
 tle 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 remem- 
 ber all we talked about. I had the same impression that 
 I had twenty-four years ago — a visit to a charming, sym- 
 pathetic 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 after- 
 noon, 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 ques- 
 tion. 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 con- 
 vincing 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,* in their beautiful apartment in his 
 
 * Princess d'Arsoli, n6e Bella Brancaccio, granddaughter of Hickson 
 Field.
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE i$$ 
 
 father's (Prince Massimo'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. 
 
 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 passages. 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 pass. We were 
 quite alone in that room, except for three or four priests. 
 In a few moments the Pope appeared with Cardinal Ma- 
 thieu and quite a large suite. The Cardinal, who had 
 promised to present Madame de B. (there had been some
 
 256 ITALIAN LETTERS [Feb. 
 
 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, hold- 
 ing 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 march- 
 ing across the squares — and Italian soldiers keeping order
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 257 
 
 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, passing the Colosseum, the two great 
 arches of Constantine and Titus, 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 circu- 
 lar tomb — I remembered it perfectly. 
 
 The Catacombs stand in a sort of garden or vineyard. 
 There were people already there, and a party just prepar- 
 ing 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
 
 258 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 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 decora- 
 tions of wreaths of flowers or a delicate arabesque tra- 
 cery; 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. 
 
 We walked about for an hour, following quantities of 
 narrow passages, coming suddenly into small round 
 rooms, which had been chapels, and still seeing in some 
 of the stone coffins bits of bones, and inscriptions on the 
 walls. It was rather weird to see the procession moving 
 along, Indian file, holding their tapers, which gave a 
 faint, flickering light. The guide had rather a bigger 
 one — on the end of a long stick. We stopped at San 
 Clemente on our way back, hoping to see the underground 
 church, but it was too late. The sacristan said we should 
 have come yesterday — there was a fete, and the two 
 churches were illuminated. 
 
 Friday, 4th. 
 It has been another beautiful day. I trammed over 
 to the Vatican to see the Sistine Chapel this time and the 
 Stanze and Loggie of Raphael. It is a good pull up to 
 the Sistine Chapel, by a rather dark staircase, but the day 
 was so bright I saw everything very well when I once
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 259 
 
 got there. The Vatican was very full — people in every 
 direction — almost all English and German — I didn't hear 
 a word of French or Italian. Two young men were 
 stretched out flat on their backs on one of the benches, 
 trying to get a good look at the ceiling through their 
 glasses. I was delighted to see the Stanze again with 
 many old friends. Do you remember the " Poesia " on 
 the ceiling of one of the rooms — a lovely figure clad in 
 light blue draperies, with a young, pure face? I wan- 
 dered up and down the Loggie, but I think I was more 
 interested looking down into the Court of San Damaso, 
 filled with carriages, priests, women in black with black 
 veils coming and going (I should think the Pope would 
 be exhausted with all the people he sees) and the general 
 little clerical bustle. The striped Swiss guard were 
 lounging about in the gateway, and a fine stately porter 
 in cocked hat and long red cloak at each door. 
 
 Josephine had a dinner in the evening — Cardinal 
 Mathieu, the Austrian Ambassador to the Vatican and 
 his wife, and other notabilities. There was quite a large 
 reception after dinner, among others the Grand Duchess 
 of Saxe- Weimar, who is very easy, charming — likes to 
 see everybody. When I came downstairs to dinner I 
 found all the ladies with lace fichus or boas on their 
 shoulders, and I was told that I was quite incorrect — that 
 one couldn't appear decolletee in a cardinal's presence. 
 I could find nothing in my hurry when I went back to my 
 room, but a little (very little) ermine cravat, but still even 
 that modified my low body somewhat, and at least showed 
 that my intentions were good. The big red salon looks 
 charming in the evening and is a most becoming room — 
 the dark red silk walls show off the dresses so well. The 
 cardinal had his whist, or rather his bridge, after dinner, 
 for even the Church has succumbed to the universal craze
 
 l6o ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 — one sees all the ecclesiastics in Black circles just as in- 
 tent upon their game and criticising their partner's play 
 quite as keenly as the most ardent clubmen. I suppose 
 bridge is a pleasure to those who play, but they don't look 
 as though they were enjoying themselves — their faces so 
 set and drawn, any interruption a catastrophe, and nobody 
 ever satisfied with his partner's play. 
 
 We had very good music. An American protege of 
 Josephine's with a good high barytone voice sang very 
 well, and the young French trio (all eleves du Conserva- 
 toire de Paris) really played extremely well. The piano 
 in one of Mendelssohn's trios was quite charming — so 
 sure and delicate. It was a pleasure to see the young, 
 refined, intelligent faces so absorbed in their music, quite 
 indifferent to the gallery. The young violinist played a 
 romance (I forget what — Rubinstein, I think) with so 
 much sentiment that I said to him " Vous etes trop jeune 
 pour jouer avec tant d'ame," to which he replied proudly, 
 " Madame, j'ai vingt ans." C'est beau d'avoir vingt 
 ans. I wonder how many of us at fifty remember how 
 we thought and felt at twenty. Perhaps there would be 
 fewer heart-burnings in the world if we older ones did 
 remember sometimes our own youth. 
 
 Sunday, March 6th. 
 Yesterday I walked up to Santa Maria Maggiore and 
 San Giovanni in Laterano. I took the Scala Santa on 
 my way to San Giovanni. Several people were going 
 up — some priests, Italian soldiers, two or three peasants 
 and two ladies — mother and daughter, I should think, 
 their long black cloth dresses very much in their way 
 evidently. I watched them for some time. I wonder 
 what it means to them, and if they really believe that they 
 are the steps from Jerusalem which our Saviour came
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 261 
 
 down. I stayed some little time in San Giovanni. It is 
 magnificent certainly, but there is too much gilding and 
 mosaic and modern decoration. The view from the steps 
 was enchanting when I came out; the air was delicious, 
 the sun bright in a bright blue sky, and the mountains 
 soft and purple in the distance. 
 
 We had an interesting breakfast — two Benedictine 
 monks from the great abbaye of Solesmes. They talked 
 very moderately about their expulsion, and the wrench 
 it was to leave the old monastery and begin life again in 
 new surroundings. The older man especially seemed to 
 feel it very much. I suppose he had spent all his life 
 inside those old grey walls — reading and meditating and 
 bound up in the interests and routine of his order. They 
 had come to Rome to see the Pope, and consult with him 
 about suppressing secular music in the churches, and sub- 
 stituting the Gregorian chants everywhere. It is a very 
 difficult question; of course some of the music they have 
 now in the churches is impossible. When you hear the 
 " Meditation de Thais " played at some ceremony, and 
 you think what Thais was, it is out of the question to ad- 
 mit such music in a church — on the other hand the strict 
 Gregorian chant is very severe, particularly sung with- 
 out any organ. I daresay educated musicians would pre- 
 fer it, but to the ordinary assemblage, accustomed to the 
 great peal of the organ with occasionally, in the country 
 for instance at some festa, the national anthem or some 
 well-known military march being played, the monotonous, 
 old-world chant would say nothing. We shall hear them 
 at the great festival at St. Peter's for San Gregorio. 
 
 Thursday, 10th. 
 It was warm and lovely Tuesday. Bessie, Josephine 
 and I walked down to J.'s work-room in the Convent of
 
 16*1 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 St. Euphemia, somewhere beyond Trajan's Forum, before 
 breakfast. It was too warm walking along the broad 
 street by the Quirinal. We were thankful to take little 
 dark narrow side streets. The " ouvroir " (work-room) 
 was interesting — quantities of women and girls working 
 — some of the work, fine lingerie, lace-mending, embroid- 
 ery beautifully done. It is managed by sisters, under Jose- 
 phine's direction, who gives a great deal of time and 
 thought to her work. They take in any child or girl from 
 the street, feed them and have them taught whatever they 
 can do. It was pretty to see the little smiling faces and 
 bright eyes as Josephine passed through the rooms. 
 
 We went to a pleasant tea in the afternoon at Countess 
 Gianotti's (wife of Count Gianotti, Master of Ceremo- 
 nies to the King). There were quite a number of people 
 — a very cosmopolitan society (she herself is an Ameri- 
 can) and she gave us excellent waffles. 
 
 Yesterday we had a delightful excursion with Coun- 
 tess de Bertheny in her automobile. She came to get me 
 and Bessie about 1 1. We picked up two young men and 
 started for Nemi and the Castelli Romani. We drove 
 straight out from Porta San Giovanni to Albano. It 
 was quite lovely all the way, particularly when we began 
 the steep ascent of Albano, and looked back — the Cam- 
 pagna a beautiful stretch of purple, the aqueducts stand- 
 ing well out all around us, and the statues of San Gio- 
 vanni just visible and looking enormous, in the mist that 
 always hangs over Rome, St. Peter's a great white spot 
 with the sun full upon it. We rattled through Albano. 
 The streets looked animated, full of people, all getting 
 out of our way as fast as they could. 
 
 The door into the Doria Villa was open; we just had 
 a glimpse of the garden which looked cool and green, 
 with a perspective of long walks, ending in a sort of
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 263 
 
 bosquet, but we passed so quickly that it was merely 
 a fleeting impression. We drove through Ariccia to 
 Gensano — a beautiful road, splendid trees, making a 
 perfect shade, the great Chigi Palace looking just the 
 same, a huge grim pile — quite the old chateau fort, built 
 at the entrance of the little village to protect it from in- 
 vading enemies. If stones could speak I wonder what 
 they would say to modern inventions, automobiles, huge 
 monsters certainly, but peaceful ones, rushing past, trains 
 puffing and smoking along the Campagna, great carts 
 drawn by fine white oxen going lazily along, the driver 
 generally asleep under his funny little tent of red or blue 
 linen, and nobody thinking of harm. 
 
 We drove through Gensano, then turned off sharp to 
 the left to Nemi — a fairly good road. We soon came in 
 sight of the lake, which looked exactly as I remembered 
 it — a lifeless blue, like a deep cup surrounded by green 
 hills. They used to tell us, I remember, that there were 
 no fish, no living thing in the lake, but Ruspoli says there 
 are plenty now — very good ones. 
 
 We followed a beautiful winding road up to Nemi, 
 which is a compact little village on the top of a hill — the 
 great castle standing out well. It has just been bought 
 by Don Enrico Ruspoli, and he and his charming Ameri- 
 can wife are making it most picturesque and livable. We 
 breakfasted at the little Hotel de Nemi — not at all bad — 
 the dining-room opening on a terrace with such a view 
 — at our feet the Campagna rolling away its great waves 
 of blue purple to a bright dazzling white streak, the sea — 
 on one side a stretch of green valley leading to all the 
 different little villages; on the other the lake with its 
 crown of olive-covered hills. 
 
 Just as we were finishing breakfast Ruspoli appeared 
 to ask us if we would come and see the castle. We en-
 
 264 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 tered directly from the little square of the town — the 
 big doors face the church. There is a fine stone stair- 
 case, and halls and rooms innumerable. They have only 
 just begun to work on it — have made new floors (a sort 
 of mosaic, small stones, just as I remember them at Fras- 
 cati in Villa Marconi) and put water everywhere, but 
 there is still a great deal to do. The proportions of the 
 rooms are beautiful, and the view divine. As in all old 
 Italian castles some of the village houses were built 
 directly into the wall of the castle. They have already 
 bought and knocked down many of these (giving the in- 
 habitants instead comfortable, clean, modern houses 
 which they probably won't like nearly as well) and are 
 arranging a beautiful garden in their place. They have 
 also a terrace planted with trees about half-way down the 
 slope to the lake, which would be a divine place to read 
 or dream away a long summer's day. I don't think there 
 are ten yards of level ground on the place. 
 
 We couldn't stay very long as we were going on to 
 Frascati and Castle Gondolfo. They gave us tea, and 
 when we came out on the piazza we found the whole vil- 
 lage congregated around the automobiles (another had 
 arrived from Rome — I am so cross I didn't bring mine 
 with Strutz, it would have been so convenient for all the 
 excursions). It is a wild beautiful spot, but I should 
 think lonely. We went back to Albano, saw the great 
 bridge built by Pio Nono, with its three tiers of arches, 
 the famous tombs — Horatii, Curiatii and Pompey, and 
 then drove along the beautiful " galeria di sotto " to 
 Castle Gondolfo, the old crooked ilex trees nearly meeting 
 over our heads, and the Campagna with lovely lights and 
 shades flitting over it, far down at our feet. There 
 everything looked exactly as I remembered it. It seemed 
 to me the same priests were walking about under the
 
 i 9 o 4 J OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 26s 
 
 trees, the same men riding minute donkeys, with their 
 legs nearly touching the ground; the same great carts, 
 lumbering peacefully along, the driver usually asleep 
 until the horn of the automobile close behind him roused 
 him into frantic energy ; however they were all most 
 smiling, evidently don't hate the auto as they do in some 
 parts of France. 
 
 We stopped at the Villa Barberini at Castle Gondolfo 
 — such a beautiful garden, but so neglected — great long 
 dark walks, trees like high black walls on each side, and 
 big bushes of white and red camellias almost as tall as the 
 trees, roses just beginning. In every direction broken 
 columns, vases, statues (minus arms and legs) carved 
 benches, all falling to pieces. We went into the Villa 
 which is usually let to strangers, but it was most primi- 
 tive — brick floors everywhere (except in the salons, 
 where there was always the mosaic pavement), and the 
 simplest description of furniture — ordinary iron bed- 
 steads, and iron trepieds in the master's bed-rooms, but a 
 magnificent view of sea and Campagna from the balcony, 
 and a beautiful cool, bracing air. 
 
 We drove on through Marino and Frascati. We 
 passed the little chapel on the road where we used to see 
 all the people praying the great cholera year. It was 
 open, and one or two women were kneeling just inside. 
 The atmosphere was so transparent that Rocca di Papa 
 and Monte Cavo seemed quite near. The Piazza of 
 Frascati was just the same, the Palazzo Marconi at one 
 side with the great Aldobrandini Villa overtopping it 
 and the Villa Torlonia opposite. We didn't go into the 
 town, but took the steep road down by the railway station. 
 ^There everything is changed — it didn't seem at all the 
 Frascati we had once lived in — quantities of new, ugly 
 villas, and an enormous modern Grand Hotel.
 
 l66 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 We got home about 6.30 — the Campagna quite beauti- 
 ful and quiet in the soft evening light. There were very 
 few people on the road, every now and then a shepherd 
 in his long sheepskin cloak, staff and broad-brimmed hat 
 appearing on the top of one of the many little mounds 
 which are dotted all over the Campagna, and occasionally 
 in the distance a dog barking. 
 
 March 17th. 
 
 Bessie and I have just come in from the last meet of 
 the season at Cecilia Metella. It is such a favourite 
 rendezvous that there is always a great crowd, almost 
 as many people walking about on the Campagna as riding. 
 It was a very pretty sight. There were quantities of 
 handsome horses, but I don't know that it was quite com- 
 fortable walking when the hunt moved off. Some of the 
 young men — principally officers — were taking preliminary 
 gallops in every direction, and jumping backward and for- 
 ward over a large ditch. One of them knocked down an 
 Englishwoman — at least I don't think he really knocked 
 her, but he alighted so near her that she was frightened, 
 and slipped getting out of his way. We stopped to speak 
 to her, but she said she wasn't at all hurt, and had friends 
 with her. The master of the hounds — Marchese Roc- 
 cagiovine — didn't look very pleased, and I should think a 
 large, motley field, with a good many women and care- 
 less riders, would be most trying to a real sportsman, 
 such as he is. Giovanni Borghese told me there were 
 two hundred people riding, and I can quite believe it. 
 
 We had a delightful day yesterday, but rather a 
 fatiguing one — I am still tired. We made an excursion 
 (a family party — Bessie, Josephine, her two children, 
 Mr. Virgo and two of his friends — a Catholic priest and 
 a student preparing for orders — all Englishmen). We
 
 X §
 
 ) 9 o 4 J OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 267 
 
 went by train to Frascati, and from there to Tusculum, 
 carrying our breakfast with us. We passed the little Cam- 
 pagna station (Ciampino) where we have stopped so often. 
 Do you remember the old crazy-looking station, and the 
 station-master, yellow and shivering, and burned up with 
 fever. Now it is quite a busy little place, people getting 
 on and off the trains and one or two brisk porters. The 
 arrival at Frascati was a sight. We were instantly sur- 
 rounded by a crowd of donkey-boys and carriages — nice 
 little victorias with red flowers in the horses' heads and 
 feathers in the coachmen's hats — all talking at the top of 
 their voices; but between Mr. Virgo and Pietro, Jose- 
 phine's Italian footman, who had charge of the valise 
 with the luncheon, we soon came to terms, and declined 
 all carriages, taking three or four donkeys. 
 
 It isn't a long walk to Tusculum, and Josephine and I 
 both preferred walking — besides I don't think I should 
 have had the courage to mount in the piazza with all the 
 crowd looking on and making comments ; however, Bes- 
 sie did, and she sat her donkey very lightly and grace- 
 fully, making a great effect with her red hat and red 
 parasol. Perhaps the most interesting show was Pietro. 
 He was so well dressed in a light grey country suit that 
 I hardly recognised him. He stoutly refused to be 
 separated from his valise, put it in front of him on the 
 donkey, sat well back himself and beamed at the whole 
 party. He is a typical Italian servant — perfectly intelli- 
 gent, perfectly devoted (can neither read nor write), 
 madly interested in everybody, but never familiar nor 
 wanting in respect. I ask him for everything I want. 
 He does it, or has it done at once, better and cheaper than 
 I could, and I am quite satisfied when I hear his delight- 
 ful phrase " Ci penso io " — I am sure it will be done. 
 
 We went up through the Aldobrandini garden. It
 
 268 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 looked rather deserted; no one ever lives there now, but 
 it is let occasionally to strangers. Men were working in 
 the garden ; there were plenty of violets and a few roses 
 — it is still early in the season for them. In a basin of 
 one of the fountains a pink water-lily — only one — quite 
 beautiful. The fountains were lovely — sparkling, splash- 
 ing, living — everything else seemed so dead. 
 
 As we wound up the steep paths we had enchanting 
 views of the Campagna, looking like a great blue sea, at 
 our feet, and Rome seemed a long, low line of sunlight, 
 with the dome of St. Peter's hanging above it in the 
 clouds. The road was very steep, and decidedly sunny, 
 so I mounted my donkey, Father Evans walking along- 
 side. Monte Cavo, Rocca di Papa, the Madonna del 
 Tufo, all seemed very near, it was so clear and the air 
 was delicious as we got higher. I recognised all the well- 
 known places, the beginning of the Roman pavement, the 
 Columbarium, Cicero's house, etc. 
 
 We were quite ready for breakfast when we got to 
 Tusculum, and looked about for a shady spot under the 
 trees. There are two great stones, almost tables, in the 
 middle of the " amfiteatro," where people usually spread 
 out their food, but the sun was shining straight down on 
 them ; we didn't think we could stand that. We found a 
 nice bit of grass under the trees and established ourselves 
 there. It was quite a summer's day, and the rest and quiet 
 after toiling up the steep paths was delightful. 
 
 After breakfast Josephine and I walked quite up to the 
 top of the hill, the trees making a perfect dome of verdure 
 over our heads. There was no sound except our own 
 voices, and the distant thud of horses' feet cantering in a 
 meadow alongside, an absolute stillness everywhere. 
 Such a view! Snow on the Sabine Mountains, sun on 
 the Alban Hills, the Campagna on either side blue and
 
 - ■ 

 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 269 
 
 broken like waves, and quite distinct, a long white line, 
 the sea. 
 
 While we were walking about we noticed two cara- 
 binieri, very well mounted, who seemed to be always 
 hovering near us, so we asked them what they were 
 doing up there. They promptly replied, taking care 
 of the " societa." We could hardly believe we heard 
 rightly; but it was quite true, they were there for us. 
 They told us that when it was known that a number of 
 people were coming up to Tusculum (there were two 
 other parties besides us) they had orders to come up, keep 
 us always in sight, and stay as long as we did. We gave 
 them some wine and sandwiches, and they became quite 
 communicative — told us there were brigands and " cattiva 
 gente " (wicked people) about; that at Rocca di Papa, 
 one of the little mountain villages quite near, there were 
 500 inhabitants, 450 of whom had been in prison for 
 various crimes, and that people were constantly robbed in 
 these parts. I wouldn't have believed it if any one had 
 told us, but they always kept us in sight. 
 
 We decided to go home through the Villa Ruffinella. 
 Donkeys are not allowed inside, and we thought prob- 
 ably not horses either, but the carabinieri came in and 
 showed us the way down. The grounds are splendid — 
 we walked first down through a beautiful green allee, 
 then up, a good climb. The villa is enormous — unin- 
 habited and uncared for — a charming garden and great 
 terrace with stone benches before the house looking 
 toward Rome. The garden, of course, wild and ragged, 
 but with splendid possibilities. Just outside the gate we 
 came upon a little church. Three or four girls and 
 women with bright-coloured skirts and fichus and quanti- 
 ties of coarse jet-black hair were sitting on the steps 
 working at what looked like coarse crochet work and
 
 270 
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 talking hard. The carabinieri were always near, opened 
 two or three gates for us, and only left us when we were 
 quite close to the town, well past the gates of the Aldo- 
 brandini Villa. 
 
 As we had some little time before the train started, I 
 went off with Bessie to have a look at Palazzo Marconi. 
 It is now occupied by the municipio and quite changed. 
 We found a youth downstairs who couldn't imagine what 
 we wanted and why we wanted to go up ; however, I ex- 
 plained that I had lived there many years ago, so finally 
 he agreed to go up with us. The steps looked more worn 
 and dirty — quite broken in some places — and the frescoes 
 on the walls, which were bright blue and green in our 
 time, are almost effaced. It was all so familiar and yet 
 so changed. I went into father's room and opened the 
 window on the terrace, where we had stood so often 
 those hot August nights, watching the mist rise over the 
 Campagna and the moon over the sea. There was very 
 little furniture anywhere — a few chairs and couches in 
 the small salon that we had made comfortable enough 
 with our own furniture from Rome. The great round 
 room with the marble statues has been turned into a 
 salle de conseil, with a big writing-table in the middle, 
 and chairs ranged in a semicircle around the room. 
 There was nothing at all in our old bed-rooms — piles of 
 cartons in one corner. The marble bath-tub was black 
 and grimy. We couldn't see the dining-room, people 
 were in it, but we went out to the hanging-garden — all 
 weeds, and clothes hanging out to dry. The fountain 
 was going at the back of the court, but covered with moss, 
 and bits of stone were dropping off. It all looked very 
 miserable — I don't think I shall ever care to go back. 
 There seemed just the same groups of idle men standing 
 about as in our time — dozens of them doing nothing,
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 271 
 
 hanging over the wall looking at the people come up from 
 the railway station. They tell me they never work ; even 
 when they own little lots of land or vignas they don't 
 work themselves — the peasants from the Abruzzi come 
 down at stated seasons, dig and plant and do all the work. 
 One can't understand it, for they look a tall, fine race, all 
 these peasants of the Castelli Romani, strong, well-fed, 
 broad-shouldered. I suppose there must be a strong touch 
 of indolence in all the Latin races. 
 
 It was after six when we got back to Rome. We had 
 just time to rush home, get clean gloves and long skirts, 
 and start for the Massimo Palace to see the great fete. 
 Once a year the palace is opened to the general public, 
 and the whole of Rome goes upstairs and into the chapel. 
 It is on St. Philippe's day, when a miracle was performed 
 in the Massimo family, a dead boy resuscitated in 1651. 
 There was a crowd assembled as we drove up, tramways 
 stopped, and the getting across the pavement was rather 
 difficult. The walls of the palace and portico were hung 
 with red and gold draperies, the porter and footman in 
 gala liveries, the old beggars squatted about inside the 
 portico, the gardes municipaux keeping order, and a 
 motley crowd struggling up the grand staircase — priests, 
 women, children, femmes du monde, peasants, policemen, 
 forestieri, two cooks in their white vestons, nuns, Cappu- 
 cini — all striving and jostling to get along. We stopped 
 at Bebella's apartment, who gave us tea. She had been 
 receiving all day, but almost every one had gone. We 
 talked to her a few moments, and then d'Arsoli took us 
 upstairs to the chapel (by no means an easy performance, 
 as there were two currents going up and coming down). 
 The chapel was brilliantly lighted, and crowded; a benedi- 
 zione was going on, with very good music from the 
 Pope's chapel — those curious, high, unnatural voices. All
 
 1J1 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 the relics were exposed, and Prince Massimo, in dress 
 clothes and white cravat, was standing at the door. It 
 was a most curious sight. D'Arsoli told us that people 
 had begun to come at seven in the morning. When 
 we went home there was still a crowd on the staircase, 
 stretching out into the street, and a long line of tram- 
 cars stopped. 
 
 Friday, March 18th. 
 
 It rained rather hard this morning, but we three got 
 ourselves into the small carriage and went down to 
 the Accademia di Santa Cecilia to hear the Benedictine 
 monk Don Guery try the Gregorian chants with the big 
 organ. The organ is a fine one, made at Nuremberg. 
 An organist arrived from St. Anselmo to accompany the 
 chants. They sounded very fine, but I thought rather 
 too melodious and even modern, but Don Guery assured 
 me that the one I particularly noticed was of the eleventh 
 century. 
 
 Tuesday, 2 2d. 
 
 We seem always to be doing something, but have had 
 two quiet evenings this week. Friday night we went 
 to the Valle to see Marchesa Rudini's Fete de Bienfai- 
 sance. The heat was something awful, as the house was 
 packed, and as at all amateur performances they were 
 unpunctual, and there were terribly long intervals. The 
 comedie was well acted, a little long, but the clou of 
 the evening was the ballet-pantomime, danced by all 
 the prettiest women in Rome. The young Marchesa 
 Rudini (nee Labouchere) looked charming as a white 
 and silver butterfly, and danced beautifully, such pretty 
 style, not a gesture nor a pas that any one could object 
 to. The rest of the troop too were quite charming, 
 coming in by couples — the Princess Teano and Therese
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 273 
 
 Pecoul a picture — both tall, one dark, one fair, and mak- 
 ing a lovely contrast. I should think they must have 
 made a lot of money. 
 
 Saturday I had a pleasant afternoon at the Palazzo 
 dei Cesari with Mr. and Mrs. Seth Low. He is an excel- 
 lent guide, had already been all over the palace with Boni 
 and knew exactly what to show us. It was a beautiful 
 afternoon and the view over Rome, the seven hills, and 
 the Forum was divine. These first Roman Emperors 
 certainly knew where to pitch their tents — what a mag- 
 nificent scale they built upon in those days. The old 
 Augustus must have seen wonderful sights in the Forum 
 from the heights of the Palatine. 
 
 Josephine had a large dinner in the evening for the 
 Grand Duchess and Cardinal Vannutelli. It was very 
 easy and pleasant, and we all wore our little fichus 
 most correctly as long as the Cardinal was there (they 
 never stay very long), but were glad to let them slip off 
 as soon as he went away, for we had a great many peo- 
 ple in the evening and the rooms were warm. I had 
 rather an interesting talk with an old Italian friend (not 
 a Roman) over the tremendous influx of strangers and 
 Italians from all parts of Italy to Rome. He says au 
 fond the Romans hate it — they liked the old life very 
 much better — they were of much more importance; it 
 meant something then to be a Roman prince. Now, with 
 all the Northern Italians, Court people and double Dip- 
 lomatic Corps Rome has become too cosmopolitan. Peo- 
 ple amuse themselves, and dance and hunt, and give din- 
 ners at the Grand Hotel and trouble themselves very little 
 about the old Roman families (particularly those who have 
 lost money and don't receive any more). The Romans 
 have a feeling of being put aside in their own place. 
 
 It was beautiful this morning, so I took my conven-
 
 (274 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 ient tram again and went over to see the pictures of the 
 Vatican. Such a typical peasant couple were in the tram, 
 evidently just down from the mountains, as they were 
 looking about at everything, and were rather nervous 
 when the tram made a sudden stop. The woman (young 
 and rather pretty) had on a bright blue skirt, a white 
 shirt with a red corset over it, a pink flowered apron, green 
 fichu on her head, and long gold ear-rings with a coral 
 centre. The man, a big broad-shouldered fellow, had the 
 long cloak with the cape lined with green that the men 
 all wear here, and a slouched hat drawn low down over 
 his brows. They got out at St. Peter's and went into 
 the church. I went around by the Colonnade as I was 
 going to the pictures. There were lots of people on the 
 stairs. It certainly is a good stiff pull up. 
 
 I stayed about an hour looking at the pictures — all 
 hanging exactly where I had always seen them, except 
 the Sposalizio of St. Catherine, which was on an easel 
 near the window ; some one evidently copying it. I was 
 quite horrified coming back through the Stanze by some 
 English people — three women — who were calmly lunch- 
 ing in one corner of the room. They were all seated, 
 eating sandwiches out of a paper bag, and drinking out 
 of a large green bottle. Everybody stopped and looked 
 at them, and they didn't mind at all. The gardien 
 was looking on like all the rest. I was so astounded at 
 his making no remarks that I said to him, surely such a 
 thing is forbidden ; to which he replied smilingly : " No 
 — no, non fanno male a nessnno — non fanno niente d'in- 
 decente " (No, they are doing no harm to any one, they 
 are doing nothing indecent). That evidently was quite 
 true; but I must say I think it required a certain courage 
 to continue their repast with all the public looking on, 
 giggling and criticising freely.
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 275 
 
 I dined this evening with Malcolm Kahn — Persian 
 Minister — and an old colleague of ours in London. It 
 was very pleasant — General Brusatti, one of the King's 
 Aides-de-Camp, took me in, and I had Comte Greppi, 
 ancien Ambassadeur, on the other side. Greppi is mar- 
 vellous — really a very old man, but as straight as an 
 arrow, and remembering everybody. Tittone, Minister 
 of Foreign Affairs, was there, but I wasn't near him at 
 table, which I regretted, as I should have liked to talk 
 to him. 
 
 Palm Sunday, March 27th. 
 Bessie and I went to the American church this morn- 
 ing, and afterward to the Grand Hotel to breakfast with 
 some friends. The restaurant was crowded, so many 
 people have arrived for Easter, and it was decidedly 
 amusing — a great many pretty women and pretty dresses. 
 It poured when we came away. We had all promised 
 to go to an amateur performance of the Stabat Mater 
 at the old Doria Palace in Piazza Navona. It was rather 
 damp, with draughts in every direction, so Mrs. Law 
 and I decided we would not stay to the end, but would 
 go for a drive until it was time to go back to tea at the 
 Grand Hotel (it is rather funny, the first month I was 
 here I never put my foot in the Grand Hotel, and I was 
 rather disappointed, as tea there in the Palm Garden with 
 Tziganes playing, is one of the great features of modern 
 Rome, and now I am there nearly every day). It was 
 coming down in torrents when we came out of the con- 
 cert, and a drive seemed insane, so I suggested a turn in 
 St. Peter's (which is always a resource on a rainy day in 
 Rome). That seemed difficult to accomplish, though, 
 when we arrived at the steps — we couldn't have gone up 
 those steps and across the wide space at the top without
 
 276 ITALIAN LETTERS [march 
 
 getting completely soaked. However I remembered old 
 times, and told the man to drive around to the Sagres- 
 tia. He protested, so did all the beggars around the 
 steps, who wanted to open the door of the carriage. We 
 couldn't get in — the door was shut, etc., but I thought we 
 would try, so accordingly we drove straight to the 
 Sagrestia. The door was open — a man standing there 
 who opened the carriage door and told the coachman 
 where to stand. I don't think I ever saw rain come down 
 so hard, and so straight. It was very interesting walk- 
 ing through all the passages at the back of St. Peter's, 
 and into the church through the sacristy, where priests 
 and children were robing and just starting for some ser- 
 vice with tapers and palms in their hands. We followed 
 the procession, and found ourselves just about in the mid- 
 dle of the church. There were still draperies hanging 
 on the columns and seats marked off. There had been 
 a ceremony of some kind in the morning, and a great 
 many people were walking about. We stopped some 
 little time at the great bronze statue of St. Peter. I 
 was astounded at the quantity and quality of people who 
 came up and kissed the toe of the Saint. Priests and 
 nuns of course, and old people, both men and women, 
 but it seemed extraordinary to me to see young men, tall, 
 good-looking fellows, bend down quite as reverently as 
 the others and kiss the toe. They were singing in one 
 of the side chapels — we listened for a little while — and 
 all over the church everywhere people kneeling on the 
 pavement. 
 
 We went back to the Grand Hotel for tea, and dined 
 with the young Ruspolis, who have a handsome apartment 
 in the Colonna Palace. The dinner was for the Grand 
 Duchess, and was pleasant enough. There was a small 
 reception in the evening, and almost every one went after-
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 277 
 
 ward to Princesse Pallavicini's who receives on Sunday 
 evening. I like the informal evening receptions here 
 very much. It is a pleasant way of finishing the evening 
 after a dinner, and so much more agreeable than the day 
 receptions — at least you do see a few men in the evening 
 — whereas they all fly from afternoons and teas. As 
 every one receives there is always some house to go to. 
 
 Monday, March 28th. 
 
 I have had a nice solitary morning in the Forum, with 
 my beloved Italian guide book, a little English brochure 
 with a map of the principal sights, and occasional con- 
 versations with the workmen, of whom there are many, 
 as they are excavating in every direction, and German 
 tourists. The Germans, I must say, are always ex- 
 tremely well up in antiquities, and quite ready to impart 
 their information to others. They are a little long some- 
 times, but one usually finds that they know what they are 
 talking about. 
 
 There are of course great changes since I have seen the 
 Forum. They are excavating and working here all the 
 time. The King takes a great interest in all that sort of 
 work, and often appears, it seems, early in the morning 
 and unexpectedly, when anything important is going on. 
 The Basilica Julia (enormous) has been quite opened out 
 since my day ; and another large temple opposite is most 
 interesting, with splendid bits left of marble pavement 
 — some quite large squares of pink marble that were 
 beautiful ; and in various places quantities of coins melted 
 and incrusted in the marble which looks as if the temple 
 had been destroyed by a fire. 
 
 There was little shade anywhere. I hadn't the cour- 
 age to walk in the sun as far as the Vestals' house, which 
 is really most interesting. The recent excavations have
 
 278 ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 brought to light so many rooms, passages, frescoes, etc., 
 that the ordinary, every-day life of the Vestal Virgins has 
 been quite reconstructed. One could follow them in their 
 daily avocations. From where I was sitting I could see 
 some of the great statues — some of the figures in quite 
 good preservation, two of them holding their lamps. I 
 found a nice square stone, and sat there lazily taking 
 in the enchanting views on all sides — the Palatine Hill 
 behind me, the Capitol on one side, on the other the three 
 enormous arches of the Temple of Constantine; at my 
 feet the Via Sacra running straight away to the Colos- 
 seum, the sky a deep, soft blue throwing out every line 
 and bit of sculpture on the countless pillars, temples and 
 arches that spring up on all sides. From a height, the 
 Palatine Hill, for instance, the Forum always looks to 
 me like an enormous cemetery — one loses the impression 
 of each separate building or ruin. It might be a street 
 of tombs rather than the busy centre of a great city. 
 
 There were plenty of people going about — bands of 
 Cook's tourists being personally conducted and instructed. 
 If the gentleman who explains Roman history gives the 
 same loose rein to his imagination as the one we used to 
 hear in Versailles conducting the British public through 
 the Historical Portrait Gallery, the present generation 
 will have curious ideas as to the deeds of daring and won- 
 derful rule of all the Augustuses and Vespasians who 
 have made the Palace of the Caesars the keystone of mag- 
 nificent and Imperial Rome ; and again " unwritten his- 
 tory " will be responsible for many wonderful statements. 
 However, I wasn't near enough to hear the explanations. 
 People were still coming in when I left, and all the way 
 home I met carriages filled with strangers. 
 
 We went out again rather late. I went for tea to 
 Marchesa Vitelleschi, and before I came away Vitelleschi
 
 I9Q4] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 279 
 
 came in. I wanted to see him to thank him for sending 
 me his book, a Roman novel, " Roma che se ne va." * It 
 is very cleverly written, and an excellent picture of the 
 Rome of 35 years ago, as we first knew it. I should 
 think it would interest English and Americans very much, 
 I wonder he hasn't translated it. 
 
 I found quite a party assembled in the little green salon 
 when I got back — Don Guery, the Benedictine monk, who 
 wishes to arrange a concert with Josephine for her chari- 
 ties, and M. Alphonse Mustel, who has just come from 
 Paris with his beautiful organ. He arrived this morn- 
 ing early and hadn't yet found a room anywhere — all the 
 hotels crowded. They say that for years they haven't 
 had so many strangers for Holy Week. He is coming 
 to play here Thursday afternoon. 
 
 We had a quiet evening, and after dinner Mr. Virgo 
 read to us the book I am so mad about, " The Call of the 
 Wild." He read extremely well, and I liked the book 
 even better hearing it read. It is a marvellous descrip- 
 tion of that wild life in the Klondyke, and a beautiful 
 poetical strain all through. The children listened atten- 
 tively, were wildly interested, particularly when poor Buck 
 was made to drag the sledge so heavily loaded, for 
 his master to win his bet. We also want to read Car- 
 dinal Mathieu's article in the " Revue des Deux Mondes," 
 " Les derniers jours de Leon XIII."; but we have so 
 rarely a quiet evening, and in the daytime every one is 
 out in the beautiful Roman sunshine. 
 
 We have all come upstairs early (ten o'clock) so I am 
 profiting of a quiet hour to write, as I can't go to bed so 
 early. This street is rather noisy. It is on the way to 
 the station and some of the big hotels. Cabs and big 
 omnibuses go through it all day and all night. I don't 
 
 ' ' *Rome which is disappearing.
 
 28o ITALIAN LETTERS [March 
 
 mind the noise. I rather like the roar of a big city — it 
 means life. 
 
 Thursday, March 31st. 
 
 It is pouring to-day, and we have been out all day. I 
 went to church this morning, but didn't get too wet with 
 a thick serge dress and umbrella ; then to breakfast at the 
 Grand Hotel with some friends, and an excursion to the 
 Palace of the Caesars in prospect, under the guidance of 
 Mr. Baddeley, who is an authority on all Roman antiqui- 
 ties and a great friend of Boni's. It rained so hard when 
 we were sitting in the Palm Garden for coffee, that it 
 seemed impossible the drops shouldn't come through, and 
 we looked to see if little puddles were not forming them- 
 selves on the floor under our chairs, but no, it was quite 
 dry. 
 
 We started in shut carriages, thinking we would try for 
 the Palace of the Caesars, where we could get refuge, but 
 it was shut, so we went on to San Giovanni in Laterano, 
 and had an interesting hour wandering about the church. 
 Our guide had old artistic Rome at his fingers' ends, and 
 it certainly makes all the difference in seeing the curious 
 old tombs and monuments when one has some idea as to 
 who the people were, and what sort of lives they led. 
 Mr. Baddeley said, like all the people who really live in 
 Italy, that the summer was the time to see Rome; that 
 no one could imagine what a Roman " festa " was unless 
 he had seen one in the height of summer, when the 
 whole population was out and in the streets all day and 
 all night, in a frenzy of amusement. No priests were in 
 the streets ; a sort of tacit concession, or tolerance for just 
 one or two occasions. 
 
 We came back here for tea, as M. Mustel had prom- 
 ised to play for us this afternoon, and Josephine had 
 asked some of her friends. The organ sounded splen-
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 281 
 
 clidly in her big mnsic-roorn, where there is little furniture 
 and no draperies to deaden the sound. He played of 
 course extremely well, and brought out every sound of 
 his instrument. Two preludes of Bach were quite beau- 
 tiful ; also the prelude of " Parsifal " — so much sound at 
 times that it seemed an orchestra, and then again beau- 
 tifully soft. We were all delighted with it. 
 
 People stayed rather late, but Bessie and I and Sir 
 Donald Wallace, who had come to tea, started off to St. 
 Peter's. It is the tradition in Rome to go to St. Peter's 
 on Holy Thursday. In our time the whole city went 
 — it was quite a promenade de societe. I believe they 
 do still, but we were rather late. The church looked 
 quite beautiful as we drove up — brilliantly lighted, the 
 big doors open, quantities of people going up the steps 
 and through a double line of Italian soldiers into the 
 church. The " Miserere " was over, but the chapel 
 was still lighted, a good many people kneeling at the 
 altar. The church was crowded, and every one pushing 
 toward the grand altar, which was being washed. They 
 were also exposing the relics from the two high bal- 
 conies on each side of the altar. Many people were kneel- 
 ing, and every now and then a procession came through 
 the crowd of priests and choir-boys with banners, all 
 chanting, and kneeling when they came near the altar — 
 of course there was the usual collection of gaping, irrev- 
 erent tourists, commenting audibly, and wondering if 
 anybody really believed those were the actual nails that 
 came out of the cross, or the thorn out of the Crown of 
 Thorns, etc., etc., also " why are they making such a fuss 
 washing their altar — why couldn't they do it this morn- 
 ing when no one was in the church." 
 
 We had some little difficulty in getting away, as the 
 crowd was awful — getting worse every moment. It was
 
 282 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 beautiful when we did get out — the great Piazza quite 
 black, a steady stream still pouring into the church. The 
 lights from inside threw little bright spots on the gun- 
 barrels and belts of the soldiers — the great mass of the 
 Vatican quite black, with little lights twinkling high up 
 in some of the windows. 
 
 I am decidedly tired and stiff — I think being rained 
 upon all day and standing on damp pavements and in 
 windy corners is rather a trial to any one with rheumatic 
 tendencies — but I have enjoyed my day thoroughly, par- 
 ticularly the end at St. Peter's. It so reminded me of 
 old times when we used to go to all the ceremonies, begin- 
 ning with the " Pastorale " at Christmas time and finish- 
 ing with the Easter Benediction and " Girandola." 
 
 We finished " The Call of the Wild " this evening, and 
 now we must take something else. I should like the 
 " Figlia di Jorio " of d'Annunzio. They say the Italian is 
 quite beautiful, but the morals, I am afraid, are not of 
 the same high order. I shall try and see it. 
 
 Rome, Saturday, April 2, 1904. 
 It was bright yesterday, but cold. The snow was quite 
 thick on the Sabine Hills — they looked beautiful as we 
 drove out into the country through Porta San Giovanni 
 before going to the church of Santa Croce in Jeru- 
 salemme, where Prince Colonna had asked us to come 
 and see a curious ceremony — he himself caruying a cross 
 at the head of a procession. Bessie and I with the two 
 children and the dog (we would have left him in the 
 carriage) tried to see some of the churches and hear 
 some music, but there were such crowds everywhere 
 that we couldn't get in, so we took a drive instead. 
 There was such a crowd at Santa Croce that we couldn't 
 have got anywhere near the altar if we hadn't had a card
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 283 
 
 from Colonna ; that took us into the Sagrestia where they 
 gave us chairs, and we sat there some little time watch- 
 ing all the " neri " (Blacks) assemble. They proposed 
 to show us the relics to while away the time, so we were 
 taken up a very steep staircase, along a narrow short 
 passage to a small room where they are kept. The priest 
 lighted tapers, made his little prayer, and then unveiled 
 his treasures. There were pieces of the Cross, a nail, St. 
 Thomas's unbelieving finger, and the inscription on a 
 piece of wood that was over the Cross, " Jesus King of 
 the Jews." It was an old, blackened, almost rotten 
 square, with the inscription in Latin, hardly legible, but 
 the priest showed us some letters and numbers that were 
 quite distinct. 
 
 When we got back again to the sacristy the proces- 
 sion was forming — a number of gentlemen dressed in 
 black, with gold chains and crosses around their necks, 
 and a long procession of monks, priests, and choristers. 
 Colonna himself at the head, carrying quite simply a 
 rather large wooden cross; all with tapers and all chant- 
 ing. As soon as they had filed out of the sacristy we 
 went upstairs again to a high balcony, from which we 
 had a fine view of the church. It was packed with peo- 
 ple, the crowd just opening enough to allow the proces- 
 sion to pass, which looked like a line of fire winding in 
 and out. There was a short, simple service, and then all 
 turned toward the balcony from where the relics were 
 shown, every one in the church kneeling, as far as I could 
 see. We came away before the end, and had great diffi- 
 culty in getting through the crowd to our carriages. 
 
 This morning it was beautiful so we all started off 
 early to the Wurts' Villa (old Sciarra Villa) on the Janic- 
 ulum. Just as we crossed the bridge the bells rang 
 out the Hallelujah (the first time they had rung since
 
 284 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 Wednesday). They sounded beautiful, so joyous, a real 
 Easter peal. We had a delightful hour in the garden of 
 the Villa. There were armies of workmen in every direc- 
 tion, and the place will be a perfect Paradise. There are 
 fine trees in the garden, masses of rhododendrons, every 
 description of palm, and of course flowers everywhere. 
 The views were divine to-day — the Sabine Mountains 
 with a great deal of snow, Soracte blue and solitary ris- 
 ing straight out of the Campagna, and the Abruzzi snow- 
 topped in the distance. Mr. and Mrs. Wurts were there 
 and showed us all the improvements they intend making. 
 After breakfast I walked about in the Via Sistina look- 
 ing for some photographs. I wanted to find some of old 
 Rome (at least Rome of 24 years ago) but that seemed 
 hopeless. My artist friend had promised to look in some 
 of his father's old portfolios and see what he could find, 
 but he was not in a business frame of mind this afternoon. 
 He was eating his dinner at his counter, his slouched hat 
 on his head, which he didn't remove while I was talking 
 to him. A young woman with her face tied up in a red 
 fichu was stretched out on the floor behind the counter, 
 sound asleep, her head on a pile of books ; another over 
 at the other end of the shop, her chair tilted back, talking 
 sometimes to him and sometimes to people in the street. 
 I suppose my eyes wandered to the one who was asleep, 
 for he instantly said, " She is ill, tired, don't disturb her." 
 He said he hadn't found any old photographs, only one 
 rather bad and half-effaced of Pio IX. I said I wanted 
 one of Antonelli. " E morto lui." I said I knew that, 
 but he had lived however once, and not so very long ago, 
 and had been a person of some importance. He evi- 
 dently didn't think it worth while to continue that con- 
 versation, and had certainly no intention of looking for 
 any photographs for me that day. It was " festa " —
 
 i9o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 285 
 
 Easter Eve — and work was over for him until Monday 
 morning, so I was really obliged to go, he wishing me 
 " buon giorno " and " buona Pasqua " quite cheerfully, 
 without getting up or taking off his hat. 
 
 I came in to tea, as Mustel was to play. We had about 
 40 people, and he was much pleased at the way in which 
 every one listened, and appreciated his instrument. Of 
 course he plays it divinely and brings out every sound. 
 Josephine had asked the Marquise Villa Marina to come 
 and hear him. He naturally wants very much to play 
 for Queen Margherita (who is a very good musician and 
 plays the organ herself), and if the Marquise makes a 
 good report the Queen will perhaps send for him to play 
 for her. 
 
 Easter Sunday, April 3d. 
 
 It has been a beautiful day. Bessie and I went to the 
 English church, which was crowded. We could only 
 find seats quite at the bottom of the church, and those 
 were chairs which had been brought in at the last mo- 
 ment. We went afterward to breakfast with the Wurts 
 in their beautiful apartment. They had flowers every- 
 where (from their villa) and the rooms looked like a gar- 
 den. We were quite a party — 16 — and stayed there talk- 
 ing and looking at everything until after three. Then 
 we started for a drive. I wanted to go to the Protestant 
 Cemetery and see the little mortuary chapel we built after 
 father's death. Some one told me it was utterly un- 
 cared for, going to ruin. The gates were open as we 
 drove up, a good many carriages waiting, and plenty of 
 people walking about inside. It is a lovely, peaceful spot, 
 so green and still, many fine trees, quantities of camellias, 
 and violets on almost every grave. The chapel stood 
 just as I remembered it — in the middle of the cemetery. 
 It is in perfectly good order, and had evidently been
 
 286 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 used quite lately as there were wooden trestles to support 
 a coffin, and bits of wreaths and stalks of flowers lying 
 about. The two inscriptions, Latin on one side and 
 English on the other, are both quite well preserved and 
 legible. I wanted very much to see a guardian or direc- 
 tor of the cemetery, but there was only a woman at the 
 gate, who knew nothing, hadn't been there very long, in 
 fact she knew nothing about the chapel, and showed me 
 a room opening into the old cemetery (where Keats is 
 buried) which looked more like a lumber room than any- 
 thing else. There are some interesting monuments, one 
 to Mrs. Story, quite simple and beautiful, an angel kneel- 
 ing with folded wings. It was done by her husband, 
 the last thing he did, his son told me. The old cemetery 
 looks quite deserted, close under the great pyramid of 
 Caius Cestius, the few graves quite uncared for, a general 
 air of neglect, a fitting resting-place for the poor young 
 poet whose profound discouragement will go down to 
 posterity. Every one goes to the grave and reads the 
 melancholy inscription, " Here lies one whose name was 
 writ in water." 
 
 It was such a lovely afternoon that we drove on to Tre 
 Fontane. There, too, there were people. The churches 
 were open, but there was no service going on ; however 
 the place has always a great charm. The tops of the 
 eucalyptus trees were swaying in a little breeze, and the 
 smell was stronger and more aromatic than when we 
 were there the other day. 
 
 We have had a quiet evening, all of us, children and 
 grown-ups, Protestants and Catholics, singing the Eng- 
 lish Easter Hymns. Josephine, who is a very strict 
 Catholic, loves the English hymns, and certainly we can 
 all sing " Christ the Lord is Risen To-day," for Easter 
 is a fete for all the world. I am sorry I didn't go to St.
 
 i 9 o4] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 287 
 
 Peter's this morning. I don't know that there was any 
 special ceremony, but for the sake of old times I should 
 have liked to have had my Easter and Hallelujah there. 
 I am writing rather under difficulties as the telephone 
 is ringing furiously (it goes all day, as every one in the 
 house uses it for everything). At the present moment 
 Josephine seems conversing with " all manner of men " 
 — the Marquise Villa Marina from the Queen's Palace, 
 the padrone of the hotel where Mustel is staying, and 
 one or two others. It seems Queen Margherita would 
 like to have Mustel and his organ to-morrow night at the 
 Palace ; and has asked us three, Bessie, Josephine and me, 
 to come. I am very glad for Mustel who wants so much 
 to be heard by the Queen. He hopes to sell some of his 
 organs here. They are not expensive, but so few peo- 
 ple care about an organ of their own. 
 
 Wednesday, April 6th, 
 We had an interesting evening at the palace on Mon- 
 day. I couldn't get there for the beginning, as I had a 
 big dinner, and a very pleasant one, at the Iddings'. 
 When I arrived I heard the music going on, but the Mar- 
 quise de Villa Marina came to meet me in the corridor, 
 and we walked up and down talking until the piece was 
 over. I found a small party — the Queen, her mother, the 
 Duchess of Genoa, and about fifteen or twenty people. 
 The Queen was in black, with beautiful pearl necklace. 
 She received me charmingly and was most kind and 
 gracious to Mustel, saying she was so pleased to see a 
 French artist, and taking great interest in his instrument. 
 He played several times : Handel's grand aria, Bach, and 
 the Marche des Pelerins from " Tannhauser," which 
 sounded magnificent — quite an effect of orchestra. 
 
 About 1 1.30 there was a pause. The Duchess of Genoa
 
 288 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 came over and talked to me a little, saying she had known 
 my husband and followed his career with great interest, 
 his English origin and education making him quite differ- 
 ent from the usual run of French statesmen. She also 
 spoke of my sister-in-law, Madame de Bunsen, whom she 
 had known formerly in Florence. She exchanged a few 
 words with the other ladies, and then withdrew, the Queen 
 and her ladies accompanying her to her apartments. 
 We remained talking with the other guests until Queen 
 Margherita came back. She asked Mustel to play once 
 more — and then we had orangeade, ices, and cakes. 
 There was a small buffet at one end of the drawing-room. 
 It was quite half-past twelve when the Queen dismissed 
 us. We had a real musical evening, pleasant and easy. 
 
 It was beautiful this morning, so I went for a turn in 
 the Villa Borghese, which is a paradise these lovely spring 
 days ; only the getting to it is disagreeable. It is a hot, 
 glaring walk up the Via Veneto, not an atom of shade 
 anywhere until one gets well inside the grounds. I was 
 walking about on the grass quite leisurely, and very 
 distraite, not noticing any one, when I heard my name. 
 I turned and saw two ladies making signs to me from 
 the other side of the road, so I squeezed through a very 
 narrow opening in the fence, and found myself with the 
 grand duchess and her lady-in-waiting, who were taking 
 their morning walk. We strolled on together. She 
 asked me if I always came to the villa in the morning. 
 I said " No," I often went shopping in the morning, and 
 told her about my photographer of the Via Sistina and the 
 difficulty of getting a photograph of Antonelli. She in- 
 stantly said : " Oh, but I can help you there, if you really 
 would like a photograph of Antonelli. I have a fine por- 
 trait of him that was painted for my beau-pere. It is in 
 the palace at Weimar, and I will give orders at once for
 
 Cardinal Antonelli. 
 
 From a picture painted for the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar. 
 
 From a photograph given to Madame Waddington by the Hereditary Grand Duchess of 
 
 Saxe-W< 
 
 ■ at Rome.
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 289 
 
 the court photographer to go and copy it." I was much 
 pleased, as I do want the photograph and was rather in 
 despair at not having found one. It seemed incredible 
 to me, until I had asked a little, that there should be 
 nothing of Antonelli. After all, it isn't very long since 
 he played a great part here, so it was a most fortunate 
 rencontre for me this morning. We parted at the gate — 
 I walked home and she got into her carriage. 
 
 Friday, April 7th. 
 
 We made a pleasant excursion yesterday to San Gre- 
 gorio, the Brancaccios' fine place beyond Tivoli. The day 
 unluckily was grey, looked as if it would pour every min- 
 ute, we had none of the lovely lights and shades that 
 make the Campagna and the hills so beautiful. We went 
 out in Camillo Ruspoli's automobile, a Fiat, Italian make, 
 strong and fast. The road is not particularly interesting 
 until one begins the steep ascent to Tivoli; then looking 
 back the view of course was beautiful. We didn't have 
 much time to admire it, for the auto galloped up the steep 
 hill as if it were nothing. After Tivoli the road goes 
 straight up into the Sabine hills, winding and narrow, 
 with very sharp corners, which we swung round quite 
 easily certainly, as Ruspoli managed his carriage per- 
 fectly — but still the road was narrow and steep — hills 
 rolling away on one side, a precipice and deep valley on 
 the other, no wall nor parapet of any description, and it 
 was absolutely lonely. If anything had broken, or an 
 animal crossed our road suddenly, and made us swerve, I 
 don't think anything could have saved us. 
 
 The castle looked very imposing as we came up to it, 
 an enormous mass, the village built into the castle walls, 
 standing high on the top of a hill. The flag was flying, 
 all the population, wildly excited (another automobile had
 
 2QO ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 arrived before us), were massed at the gates, the draw- 
 bridge down, and Bessie and her husband waiting for 
 us, also the Bishops who had come in their auto. We 
 took off some of our coats, but not all, as the rooms are 
 so enormous that it was cold, notwithstanding a great 
 fire in the big hall. We had an hour before breakfast, so 
 they showed us the house which is magnificent, with the 
 most divine views on all sides from all the balconies, 
 corner windows, etc. It is beautifully furnished, perfect- 
 ly comfortable. I couldn't begin to describe it — one 
 couldn't take it all in in a flying visit. There are several 
 complete apartments with dressing-rooms, bath-rooms, 
 etc., so curious to see so much modern comfort and lux- 
 ury inside this grim old castle on the top of a rock far 
 back in the Sabine hills. 
 
 It was very cold — I kept on my thick coat. There are 
 balconies and little bridges connecting towers, high ter- 
 races, staircases in every direction — quite bewildering. 
 We breakfasted in the large dining hall, and it was pleas- 
 ant to see the enormous logs, and to hear the crackling and 
 spluttering of a big fire. There are some fine Brancaccio 
 portraits, in the curious old-world court dress of the 
 Neapolitan ladies of the last century. They gave us an 
 excellent breakfast, with a turkey bred and fattened at 
 the olive farm (it seems these olive-fed turkeys are their 
 specialty). We did some more sight-seeing after break- 
 fast, bachelor apartments principally, such curious old 
 niches and steep, narrow little staircases (we could only 
 pass single file) cut in the thick walls, and then started 
 off to drive and walk in the park. They had two nice 
 little two-wheeled carts, with stout ponies, just the thing 
 for rough wood driving. The park is charming — long 
 green alleys with beautiful views — the country all around 
 rather stony and barren, no shade as there are few trees.
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 291 
 
 We hadn't time to go to the olive farm, which I was sorry 
 for, as the people were all working there picking the 
 olives. I should have liked to see the women with their 
 bright skirts and corsets making a warm bit of colour in 
 the midst of the grey-green olive groves. 
 
 We started home rather sooner than we had intended, 
 as the sky was getting blacker, and a few drops already 
 falling. We were in an open automobile, and should 
 have been half drowned going home if it had begun to 
 rain hard. We went back at a frightful pace. If I 
 found the coming up terrifying you can imagine what 
 the descent was, flying around the corners, and seeing 
 the steep road zigzagging far down below us. I heard 
 smothered exclamations (" Oh, mon petit Camillo, pas si 
 vite") occasionally from Bessie, and I think Josephine 
 was saying her prayers — however we did get home with- 
 out any accident or " panne " of any kind, and Ruspoli 
 assured us he had crawled out of consideration for us. 
 
 This morning Josephine and I have been out to the 
 new Benedictine Monastery of St. Anselmo, which stands 
 high on a hill overlooking the Tiber. She had busi- 
 ness with the Director, so I went into the chapel which 
 is fine (quite modern with splendid marbles) and 
 walked about a little in the garden (they wouldn't let 
 me go far). We went afterward into the Villa Malta. 
 There is an extraordinary view through the key-hole of 
 the door — one looks straight down a long, narrow avenue 
 with high trees on each side, to St. Peter's — a great blue 
 dome at the end. We couldn't make out at first what 
 the old woman meant who opened the door for us, she 
 wouldn't let us come in, but pointed to the key-hole, 
 mumbling something we couldn't understand. At last we 
 heard " veduta " (view), and divined what she wanted us 
 to do. It was most curious. The gardens are lovely still,
 
 292 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 green, cool. We went over the house, but there is noth- 
 ing particularly interesting — portraits of all the " Grands 
 Maitres de l'Ordre de Malte." It was so lovely that we 
 didn't want to come home, so we drove out as far at St. 
 Paul's Fuori le Mura, and walked around the church to 
 the front where they are making a splendid portico — 
 all marble and mosaic. I should have liked it better 
 without the mosaic — merely the fine granite and marble 
 
 columns. 
 
 Tuesday, April 12th. 
 
 Yesterday we had a splendid ceremony at St. Peter's, 
 the 13th anniversary of Pope Gregorio Magno. We 
 started early, Josephine and I leaving the house together 
 at 8, dressed in the regulation black dress and veil. I had 
 on a short cloth skirt, which I regretted afterward, but as 
 we had asked for no particular places, and were going to 
 take our chance in the church with all the ordinary sight- 
 seers, I hadn't made a very elegante toilette. We got 
 along pretty well, though there were streams of carriages 
 and people all going in the same direction, until we got 
 near the St. Angelo bridge — there we took the file, hardly 
 advanced at all, and met quantities of empty carriages 
 coming back. I fancy most people started much earlier 
 than we did. The piazza was fairly crowded (but not 
 the compact mass we used to see in the old days when 
 the Pope gave the Easter blessing from the balcony), all 
 the Colonnade guarded by Italian troops, carabinieri and 
 bersaglieri. We went round to the Sagrestia, and found 
 our way easily into the church, and into our Tribune A, 
 but we might just as well have remained at home, if we 
 had wanted to see anything. We were far back, low, and 
 could have just seen perhaps the top of the Pope's tiara 
 when he was carried in his high chair in procession — how- 
 ever it was our own fault, as we had asked too late for our
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 293 
 
 tickets. I was interested all the same seeing the differ- 
 ent people come in (the church was very full). We sat 
 there some little time, rather disgusted au fond at having 
 such bad places, particularly when we saw some people 
 we knew being escorted with much pomp past our ob- 
 scure little tribune, toward the centre of the church. 
 Finally one of the camerieri segreti in his uniform — 
 black velvet, ruff and chain — recognised Josephine, and 
 insisted that she should come with him and he would give 
 her a proper place. She rather demurred at leaving me, 
 but I urged her going, as I was sure she would find a 
 seat for me somewhere. In a few minutes the gentleman 
 returned, and put me first in the same tribune with her. 
 a little farther back, but eventually conducted me to the 
 Diplomatic Tribune, d'Antas, the Doyen, Portuguese Am- 
 bassador to the Quirinal, and an old colleague of ours in 
 London, having said he would gladly give a place in their 
 box to an ancienne collegue. That was the moment in 
 which I regretted my short skirt. I had to cross the 
 red carpet between rows of gardes-nobles and gala uni- 
 forms of all kinds and colours, and I was quite conscious 
 that my dress was not up to the mark, a sentiment which 
 gathered strength as I got to the Diplomatic Tribune, and 
 saw all the ladies beautifully dressed, with long lace and 
 satin dresses, pearl necklaces, and their veils fastened 
 with diamond stars. However, it was a momentary 
 ennui, and I could only hope nobody looked at me. 
 Wasn't it silly of me to wear a plain little skirt — I can't 
 think why I did it. Almost all the bishops and som- 
 mites of the clerical world were already assembled and 
 walking about in the great space at the back of the 
 altar. Just opposite us was the Tribune of the patriciat 
 Romain. All the tribunes and columns were covered with 
 red and gold draperies. A detachment of gardes-nobles.
 
 294 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 splendid in their red coats, white culottes and white 
 plumes, surrounded the altar. There were two silver 
 thrones for the Pope, one at one side of the church where 
 he sat first, directly opposite to us, another quite at the end 
 of the long nave behind the high altar. The entrance 
 of the cardinals was very effective. They all wore white 
 cloaks trimmed with silver, and silver mitres, each one 
 accompanied by an attendant priest, who helped them 
 take off and put on their mitres, which they did several 
 times during the ceremony. The costumes were splen- 
 did, some high prelates, I suppose, in red skirts with 
 splendid old lace; some in white and gold brocaded 
 cloaks, also grey fur cloaks ; and an Eastern bishop with 
 a long beard, in purple flowered robes, a pink sash worn 
 like a grand cordon over his shoulder, and purple mitre. 
 It was a gorgeous effect of colour, showing all the more 
 between the rows of tribunes where every one was in 
 black. 
 
 We divined (as we were too far back to see) when the 
 Pope's cortege entered the church. There was no sound 
 — a curious silence — except the trumpets which preceded 
 the cortege (they played a " Marcia pontificale," they 
 told me). At last we saw the " sedia gestatoria " with 
 the peacock fans appearing, and the Pope himself held 
 high over the heads of the crowd (it seems he hates the 
 sedia and hoped until the last moment not to be obliged 
 to use it, but it is the tradition of St. Peter's, and really 
 the only way for the people to see him). We saw him 
 quite distinctly. He looked pale certainly, and a little 
 tired, even before the ceremony began, but that may have 
 been the effect of the swaying motion of the chair. There 
 was the same silence when he was taken out of his chair 
 and walked to the throne, not even the subdued hum of 
 a great crowd. There was a little group of officiating
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 295 
 
 priests and cardinals on the dais surrounding the throne. 
 The Pope wore a long soutane of fine white cloth, white 
 shoes, a splendid mantle of white and gold brocade, and 
 a gold mitre with precious stones, principally pearls. He 
 began his mass at once, a bishop holding the big book 
 open before him, a priest on each side with a lighted 
 taper. His voice sounded strong and clear, but I don't 
 think it would carry very far. I was disappointed in the 
 Gregorian chants. There were 1,500 voices, but they 
 sounded meagre in that enormous space. The ceremony 
 was very long. I couldn't follow it all, and at intervals 
 couldn't see anything, as the priests stood often directly 
 in front of the Pope. It was interesting to make out 
 the various cardinals — Cardinal Vincenzo Vannutelli sat 
 almost directly opposite to us, his tall figure standing out 
 well. His brother Cardinal Serafino was always close to 
 the Pope. I asked d'Antas to show me Cardinal Ram- 
 polla, who has a fine head and dignified carriage, rather a 
 sad face. It was very impressive when the Pope left his 
 throne by the altar and walked across the great space 
 to the other one at the end of the nave. Every one 
 knelt as he passed, the cardinals, bishops, gardes-nobles, 
 everybody in the tribunes (at least everybody in the front 
 row, I won't answer for the young ones behind, but they 
 stood if they didn't kneel). There again the ceremonies 
 were very long. When the Pope had taken his seat, 
 many of the cardinals sat too on the steps of the dais. 
 It was very picturesque, and the Eastern prelate stood 
 out well from the group of white-robed Cardinals in his 
 bright flowered garments. The Evangile was read in 
 Latin and in Greek — a great many things and people were 
 blessed, every one kneeling at the foot of the dais, and 
 again when they got close up to the Pope ; some quite pros- 
 trated themselves and kissed his slipper (a very nice white
 
 296 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 one) which they say he hates. Prince Orsini, premier 
 assistant of the Saint Siege, officiated, and looked his 
 part to perfection. He is tall, with a long white beard, 
 and his short black velvet cloak, with a long white and 
 silver mantle over it, was most effective. I don't know 
 exactly what he did, but he appeared various times at the 
 foot of the dais, knelt, and sometimes presented something 
 on a platter. He was always accompanied (as were all 
 who took any prominent part in the ceremony) by two 
 priests, one on each side of him ; sort of masters of cere- 
 mony who told him when to kneel, when to stand, etc. 
 On the whole all the music disappointed me. The Gre- 
 gorian chants were too thin ; the Sistine choir didn't seem 
 as full and fine as it used to be, and the silver trumpets 
 absolutely trivial. 
 
 It was most impressive at the moment of the elevation, 
 almost the whole assembly in that enormous church 
 kneeling, and not a sound except the silver trumpets, 
 which had seemed so divinely inspired to me in the old 
 days. I remember quite well seeing Gounod on his knees, 
 with tears streaming down his face, and we were quite 
 enchanted, lifted out of ourselves and our every-day sur- 
 roundings. This time I was perfectly conscious of a 
 great spectacle of the Catholic Church with its magnifi- 
 cent " mise-en-scene," but nothing devotional or appeal- 
 ing to one's religious feelings. 
 
 I should have liked to hear a great solemn choral of 
 Bach, not an ordinary melodious little tune; and yet for 
 years after those first days in Rome I never could play or 
 hear the music of the silver trumpets without being 
 strangely moved. 
 
 I thought the Pope looked very pale and tired as he 
 passed down the long nave the last time and was finally 
 carried off in his chair with his peacock fans waving,
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 297 
 
 and a stately procession of cardinals and prelates follow- 
 ing. I think he regrets Venice and the simple life there 
 as pastor of his people. 
 
 We saw plenty of people we knew as we were making 
 our way through the crowd to the carriage. Some of 
 the ladies told us they had left their hotel at 5.30 in the 
 morning, they were so anxious to get a good place. I 
 told d'Antas I was very grateful to him, for I saw every- 
 thing of course perfectly, and took in many little details 
 which I never could have seen if we hadn't been so near. 
 I also apologized to Madame d'Antas for my modest, not 
 to say mesquin attire; but she said as long as I was all 
 black, and had the black veil, it was of no consequence. 
 There were two or three ladies in the Royal Tribune — 
 Grand Duchess of Saxe- Weimar and Duchess Paul of 
 Mecklenburg. We were a long time getting home, but it 
 was an interesting progress ; all Rome out, a good many 
 handsome carriages, and I should think people from every 
 part of the world, Rome is so full of strangers. 
 
 Thursday, April 14th. 
 I never had a moment yesterday as it was the children's 
 ball, and we were all taken up with the preparations. It 
 went off very well, and was one of the prettiest sights I 
 ever saw. The children danced extremely well, though 
 even at the last repetition things didn't go perfectly ; but 
 evidently at all ages there is a sort of amour propre 
 that carries one through, when there is a gallery. The 
 dresses were Louis XVI., paniers and powder for the 
 girls (and sweet they looked — Victoria quite a picture 
 with her large dark eyes and bright colour), embroidered 
 coats, long gilets, tricorne hats and swords for the boys. 
 There were eight couples, and very good music — 4 
 violins playing Bodcherini's minuet. Bessie had ar-
 
 298 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 ranged a very pretty " rampe " with white azaleas and 
 pink and yellow ribbons, separating the upper part of the 
 ball-room, and the space for the dancers was kept by 4 
 tall footmen in yellow gala liveries and powder, who stood 
 at each corner of the square, in their hands tall gilt canes 
 held together by bands of pink ribbon. It made a charm- 
 ing " cadre " — you can't imagine how pretty the little 
 procession looked as they all filed in, the small ones first. 
 I think perhaps the quite small ones were the best ; they 
 were so important, took much trouble and weren't as dis- 
 tracted by the spectators as the bigger ones. They were 
 much applauded, and were obliged to repeat the menuet 
 after a little rest. In an incredibly short time all the 
 seats and various accessories were taken away, and 
 the ball began, ending with a very spirited cotillon led by 
 the son of the house, Don Camillo Ruspoli, and one of his 
 friends, the Marquis Guglielmi. They kept it up until 
 dinner time, when the various mammas, quite exhausted 
 with the heat and the emotion of seeing their children 
 perform in public, carried them off; but the children 
 (ours certainly) were not at all tired. 
 
 Saturday, April 16th. 
 It is real summer weather — too hot to walk in the 
 morning, particularly from here, where we have to cross 
 the open piazza before we can get anywhere. Thursday 
 we went to the races with the Brancaccios, on their coach. 
 It was most amusing, the road very animated all the way 
 out from Porta San Giovanni to Campanelle; every one 
 making way for the coach as they do in England. There 
 was every description of vehicle, and quantities of police 
 and soldiers — the road very strictly guarded, as the King 
 and Queen were coming. It looked very pretty to see 
 a patrol of cuirassiers suddenly appearing from under
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 299 
 
 an old archway, or behind a bit of ruined wall, or from 
 time to time one solitary soldier standing on the top of a 
 high mound. It was very hot, the sun too strong on our 
 heads, but we didn't go very fast; couldn't, in such a 
 crowd, so we were able to hold our parasols. 
 
 The course and all the tribunes were crowded; the 
 women almost all in white or light dresses. The King 
 and Queen came in an open carriage with four horses — 
 no escort. We had a pleasant day, meeting quantities of 
 people we knew. We had rather a struggle for tea ; there 
 were not nearly enough tables and chairs for so many 
 people ; but we finally got some under difficulties, two of 
 us sitting on the same chair and thankful to get it. 
 
 The drive home was lovely, cool, and very little dust. 
 Rome looked soft and warm in the sunset light as we got 
 near, and the statues on San Giovanni Laterano almost 
 golden as the light struck them. It was interminable 
 when we got into the file, and Brancaccio had some diffi- 
 culty in turning into his court-yard. 
 
 Monday, April 18th. 
 It is enchanting summer weather, but too hot for walk- 
 ing. I have had two charming auto expeditions with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bishop. Saturday we started after break- 
 fast to Civita Vecchia. The country is not very interest- 
 ing near Rome, but it was delightful running along by 
 the sea — the road low and so close to the water that the 
 little waves came nearly up to the wheels. Civita Vec- 
 chia looked quite picturesque, rising up out of the sea. 
 We didn't stop there, merely drove through the town, 
 and came home another way inland, through the hills, 
 quite beautiful, but such sharp turns and steep bits. We 
 climbed straight up a high hill (2,000 feet) soon after 
 leaving Civita Vecchia, and had for some time a divine
 
 3 00 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 view of sea and coast; then plunged at once into the 
 mountains, great barren, stony peaks with little old grey 
 villages on top; hills rolling away on each side, a wild, 
 desolate country. The road was very lonely, we met only 
 a few carts; the peasants frantic with terror as the big 
 auto dashed by. 
 
 We passed Bracciano, the great feudal castle of the 
 Odescalchi, with the beautiful little blue lake at the bot- 
 tom of the hill. It is a fine old pile, square and grey, 
 with battlements running all around it — more imposing 
 than attractive. After leaving Bracciano we flew — the 
 road was straight and level — and got back to Rome by 
 Ponte Molle and Porta del Popolo. 
 
 Sunday we made a longer expedition to the Falls of 
 Terni. There were three autos — quite a party. The 
 road was very different, but quite beautiful, green fields 
 and olive woods, and lovely effects of light and shade on 
 the Campagna. The day was grey, the sun appearing 
 every now and then from behind a cloud, at first; later, 
 when we stopped on the high road, with not a vestige of 
 tree or bit of wall to give us shade, we longed for the 
 clouds. 
 
 We soon began to climb, then down a long, winding 
 hill to Civita Castellana, an old fortified town, walls all 
 around. We drove in through the gate, and along a 
 narrow steep street filled with people, as it was Sunday, 
 and asked if they had seen another auto. They told us 
 yes, in the piazza, so we went on, making our way with 
 difficulty through the crowded streets ; every one taking a 
 lively interest in the auto. The square, too, was crowded, 
 all the women in bright skirts and fichus, and a fair 
 sprinkling of uniforms ; little carts with fruit and vegeta- 
 bles, and two or three men with mandolins or violins (a 
 mild little music) but no signs of an auto. A splendid
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 301 
 
 gentleman in uniform with waving plumes and a sword 
 (mayor, I suppose) came up and interviewed us, and told 
 us an auto had been there, coming from Rome, but had 
 left about ten minutes before ; so we started off again, and 
 had a beautiful drive to Terni. We passed Narni, which 
 stands very well on the top of a rock, high above the little 
 river which runs there through a narrow gorge to the 
 Tiber. We crossed a fine large bridge, then down a hill 
 to Terni, where we breakfasted. After breakfast we 
 started for the Falls, about four miles further on, and 
 quite beautiful they are, a great rush of sparkling water 
 falling from a height and breaking into countless little 
 falls over the green moss-covered rocks below. It was 
 delicious to hear the sound of running water, and to feel 
 the spray on our faces after our hot ride. 
 
 We didn't get out. We shouldn't have seen the Falls 
 any better, and would have had to scramble over wet, slip- 
 pery stones. There was the usual collection of guides, 
 beggars, etc., offering us pieces of petrified stone, and of 
 course post-cards of the Falls. Just around Terni the 
 hills are very green, the slopes covered with olive trees, 
 and quantities of white villas scattered about on the 
 hillside, little groups of people loitering about, women 
 and girls making pretty bits of colour as they strolled 
 along. They love bright colours, and generally have on 
 two or three, red or blue skirts, yellow fichus on their 
 heads, or over their shoulders, coloured beads or gold 
 pins. Some of them carried such heavy loads on their 
 heads or backs, great bundles of fagots, or sacks of 
 olives, old women generally. They are given that work 
 as a rest when they are too old to do anything in the fields. 
 
 We came home by another road, always the same wild 
 mountain scenery, always also the same sharp curves and 
 steep descents. It is certainly lovely country, green hills
 
 302 
 
 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 breaking away in every direction. As we got higher, 
 great stony, barren peaks, torrents rushing along at our 
 feet, and always on the top of a rock, rising straight up 
 out of the hills, a little old grey village (with usually a 
 steeple and sometimes an old square castle). Some of 
 the villages were stretched along the mountainside about 
 half-way up. They all looked perfectly lonely and inac- 
 cessible, but I suppose life goes on there with just as much 
 interest to them, as in ours in the busy world beneath. 
 
 We raced up and down the hills, through beautiful 
 country, scarcely slackening when we passed through 
 some little walled towns (hardly more than one long 
 crooked street), in at one gate and out at the other, people 
 all crowding into the piazza, smiling and taking off their 
 hats. Once or twice one heard them say " la Regina " 
 evidently thinking it was Queen Margherita, who loves 
 her auto, and makes long country excursions in it. It was 
 a curious, fantastic progress, but enchanting. 
 
 The other autos had started some time ahead of us. 
 We saw an object (stationary) as we were speeding down 
 a steep hill, which proved, as we got near, to be one of 
 them, stuck in a little stream, quite firmly embedded in 
 the sand, and looking as if nothing would ever get it 
 out. About 15 or 20 men were pulling and hauling, but 
 it seemed quite hopeless. It wasn't a very pleasant pros- 
 pect for us either, as our auto, too, was big and heavy, 
 and we had to get across. It would have been too far to 
 go back all the way round. However, Mr. Bishop's chauf- 
 feur was not in the least concerned, said he would cer- 
 tainly take his carriage over, and he did, Mrs. Bishop and 
 me in it. We waited to see the other one emerge from 
 its bed of sand. The men pulled well, and talked as hard 
 as they pulled, and finally the great heavy machine was 
 landed on the other side.
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 303 
 
 We had a long level stretch, about 20 kilometres, before 
 we got into Rome, and we raced the train, all the passen- 
 gers wildly excited. It is curious to see how one gets 
 accustomed to the speed when the carriage rolls smoothly. 
 It seemed quite natural to me to fly past everything, and 
 yet when Strutz has occasionally whirled us in to La 
 Ferte to catch the express I haven't been comfortable 
 at all. 
 
 April 22, 1904. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon Bessie and I went to the recep- 
 tion at the Villa Medicis, which was pleasant. We liked 
 the music of the i er Prix de Rome, and it was interest- 
 ing to see the pictures and sculpture. I think the faces 
 of the young men interested me, perhaps, more than their 
 work — they looked so young and intelligent and hope- 
 ful, so eager for the battle of life; and yet so many find 
 it such a struggle. There is so much concurrence in 
 everything, and an artist's life is precarious. The very 
 qualities which make their genius unfit them so for all 
 the cares and worries of a career which must always 
 have ups and downs. 
 
 We went late for a drive in the Corso and Via Nazio- 
 nale to see all the preparations for Loubet's arrival. They 
 are certainly taking no end of trouble — flags, draperies, 
 and festoons of flowers, in all the principal streets. The 
 garden they are making in Piazza Colonna is quite won- 
 derful — quite tall trees, little green lawns, and the statue 
 of a Roman emperor. Quantities of people looking on 
 at the workmen and walking about in the piazza. The 
 Via Nazionale, too, is gorgeous with draperies, shields, 
 and large medallions with French and Italian colours 
 entwined. 
 
 This afternoon I went off alone and did some sight-
 
 304 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 seeing - . We shall go in a few days, and I haven't seen 
 half I wanted to. I went straight over to the Trastevere; 
 first to Santa Maria, with its queer old mosaic facade, 
 looking more Byzantine than Italian; then on to Santa 
 Cecilia, where a nice old sacristan took me all over 
 showed me the chapel supposed to be directly over Santa 
 Cecilia's bath-room (the church is said to be built on the 
 very spot where her house stood), and of course the tomb 
 of the saint. Then, as I had nothing particular to do, 
 I drove out toward Monte Mario, which is a lovely drive 
 in the afternoon, the view of Rome looking back is so 
 beautiful. It is a long steep hill, with many turns, so 
 one gets the view on all sides. The Cork Valley was 
 green and lovely, and the road was unusually quiet. I 
 think everybody is on the Corso looking at the festal 
 preparations. I went back to the house to get Bessie, 
 and we went to tea with the Waldo Storys, in his studio. 
 He has some beautiful things — two fountains in par- 
 ticular are quite charming. 
 
 We all dined out, Bessie and Josephine with Cardinal 
 Mathieu, I at the American Embassy with the Meyers. 
 We had a pleasant dinner — four or five small tables. 
 They have Mrs. Field's apartment in the Brancaccio Pal- 
 ace — entertain a great deal, and are much liked in Rome. 
 
 We came home early, and I am finishing this letter to- 
 night. It is very warm, the windows open, and the street 
 sounds very gay. To say that we have heard the Mar- 
 seillaise these last days but faintly expresses how we have 
 been pursued by the well-known air. Everybody sings 
 or whistles it, all the street musicians, hand-organs, gui- 
 tars, accordions, and brass bands play it all day and all 
 night ; and we hear the music of a neighbouring barrack 
 working at it every morning. At this present moment 
 a band of youths are howling it under the window. I
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 305 
 
 think they are getting ready to amuse themselves when 
 the President arrives. 
 
 It was most amusing in the streets this morning, flags 
 flying, draperies being put up everywhere, troops march- 
 ing across the Piazza di Spagna, musique en tete, to ex- 
 ercise a little on the review ground before the great day 
 — quantities of people everywhere. They say all the 
 hotels will be crowded to-morrow, and with French peo- 
 ple, which rather surprises me, but they tell me there are 
 deputations from Avignon, Marseilles, and various other 
 southern towns. They are beginning to arrange the 
 Spanish Steps quite charmingly — a perfect carpet of 
 flowers (if only it doesn't rain). 
 
 Saturday, April 23d. 
 
 It poured this morning, and all night I heard the rain 
 beating against the window every time I woke. The 
 clouds are breaking a little now, at three o'clock, so per- 
 haps it has rained itself out, and the President may have 
 the " Queen's weather " to-morrow. Our Loubet in- 
 vitations are beginning to come — a soiree at the Capitol ; 
 great ricevimento, all the statues illuminated with pink 
 lights ; a gala at the opera ; another great reception at the 
 French Embassy (Quirinal) ; and the review. 
 
 Josephine and I have been dining with the grand 
 duchess at her hotel. We were a small party, and it was 
 pleasant enough. She talks easily about everything, and 
 loves Rome. The evening was not long. We all sat in 
 a semicircle around her sofa after dinner. Every one 
 smoked (but me), and she retired about ten. 
 
 We have been talking over plans since we got back. 
 Bessie will start to-morrow night. She is not keen 
 naturally about the Loubet fetes, and Palma * wants her 
 
 * Princesse di Poggio Suasa, nee Talleyrand-P^rigord.
 
 306 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 to stay over two or three days with her in the country 
 somewhere near Ancona. She will meet me in Turin, 
 and we will come on together from there. It is still 
 raining — I hope it will stop. 
 
 Tuesday, April 26th. 
 
 I had no time to write Sunday, as we were going all 
 day. Bessie and I went to church in the morning, and 
 then I left some P. P. C. cards on Cardinals Vannutelli, 
 Mathieu, etc., also a note to the grand duchess to thank 
 her for the photographs of Antonelli which she sent me 
 last night — two very good ones, with a nice little note, 
 saying she thought I would perhaps keep the big one for 
 myself " as a souvenir of old times and new friends." 
 
 The Corso looked quite brilliant as we drove through — 
 the bright sun seemed to have completely dried the flags 
 and festoons and the streets were full of people, all gap- 
 ing and smiling, and in high good-humour. The Spanish 
 Steps were charming, the great middle flight entirely 
 covered with flowers, looking like an enormous bright 
 carpet. 
 
 We had some visits after breakfast, and started about 
 three to the Countess Bruschi's, who has an apartment 
 with windows looking directly over to the " Esedra di 
 Termine," where the syndic, Prince Prosper Colonna, was 
 to receive the President. There was such a crowd, and 
 there were so many people going to the same place, that 
 we thought that would be hopeless, so we returned and 
 made our way with difficulty, as the streets were crowded, 
 to the Via Nazionale, where a friend of Josephine's had 
 asked us to come. She established us on a balcony, and 
 there we saw splendidly. The street is rather narrow, 
 and the balcony not high. The crowd was most amusing, 
 perfectly good-natured, even at times when a band of
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 307 
 
 roughs would try to break the lines, pushing through the 
 rows of screaming, struggling women and children, and 
 apparently coming to a hand-to-hand fight with the 
 policemen; but as soon as the soldiers charged into them 
 — which they did repeatedly during the afternoon — they 
 dispersed; nobody was hurt (I never can imagine why 
 not, when the horses all backed down on them), nobody 
 protested violently, and the crowd cheered impartially 
 both sides. These little skirmishes went on the whole 
 afternoon until we heard the Marcia Reale, and saw the 
 escort appearing. A troop of cuirassiers opened the 
 march. The royal carriages with the red Savoie liveries 
 were very handsome — all the uniforms making a great 
 effect — the King and President together, both looking 
 very happy, the King in uniform, the President in plain 
 black with a high hat, returning all the salutations most 
 smilingly. He was enthusiastically received, certainly — 
 there were roars of applause, which became frantic when 
 some of the military bands played the Marseillaise. As 
 soon as the cortege had passed the crowd broke up, quan- 
 tities of people following the carriage to the Quirinal, 
 where the great square was crowded. There, too, they 
 were so enthusiastic that the President had to appear on 
 the balcony between the King and Queen. 
 
 We started out again after dinner, and wanted to see 
 the torchlight procession, but didn't, as our movements 
 were a little complicated. We took Bessie to the station, 
 and waited to see her start. When we came out the pro- 
 cession had passed, but the streets were still brilliantly 
 lighted and very gay, quantities of people about. 
 
 Yesterday we had a delightful expedition to Porta 
 d'Anzio and Nettuno — two autos — and some of the party 
 by train. We were really glad to get out of the streets 
 and the crowd of sightseers. Quantities of people have
 
 308 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 come from all parts of Italy to see the show, and are 
 standing about all day in compact little groups, gaping 
 at the festoons and decorations. It is frightful to think 
 of the microbes that are flying about. 
 
 We started early, at 9.30, went straight out toward 
 Albano, to the foot of the hill, then turned off sharp to 
 the right, taking a most lovely road, chestnut trees on 
 each side, and hedges white and fragrant with hawthorn. 
 As we got near Porta d'Anzio we had a beautiful view 
 of a bright blue summer sea. The first arrivals had or- 
 dered breakfast in quite a clean hotel, evidently other 
 people had thought too that it would be pleasant to get 
 out of Rome to-day, as there were several parties in the 
 dining-room, which was large and bright, but no view 
 of the sea. 
 
 After breakfast we all wandered out to the shore, and 
 walked about a little, but the sun was hot and the glare 
 very trying — the sea like a painted ocean, all the sails of 
 the little pleasure boats, and even fishing boats further 
 out, hanging in folds, the boats just drifting with the 
 tide. The place is enchanting, and the little point of 
 Nettuno quite white in the sun, stretching out into the 
 blue sea, was fairy-like — the colours almost too vivid. 
 The various boatmen lounging about in bright coloured 
 shirts and sashes were very anxious we should sail or 
 row to Nettuno, but the sea, though beautiful, looked 
 hot, and we were rather sceptical about the breeze which 
 they assured us always got up after 12. 
 
 We went off in the auto to the Villa Borghese, about 
 half-way between Porta d'Anzio and Nettuno, which is 
 a Paradise. It stands high, in a lovely green park and 
 looks straight out to sea. The drive through the park 
 by the galleria, trees meeting over our heads, and the 
 road winding up and down through the little wood was
 
 i 9 o4] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 309 
 
 delightful, so shady and resting to the eyes after the glare 
 and sun of the beach. All the way to Nettuno there are 
 quantities of villas, fronting the sea, some very high with 
 terraces sloping down to the water, all with gardens. 
 Nettuno itself is an interesting little place with a fine old 
 feudal castle. Some of the party had chosen to sail from 
 Porta d'Anzio to Nettuno, and we saw their boat, full of 
 children, just moving along close to the shore. 
 
 We had tea on the shore, made in Countess Frank- 
 enstein's tea-basket, and it was delicious sitting there, 
 seeing the little blue waves break at our feet, and the 
 beautiful clear atmosphere making everything look so 
 soft and near. 
 
 The coming home was enchanting, very few people on 
 the road, so we could come quickly, and the flying through 
 the air was delightful after the heat and fatigue of the 
 day. The Campagna is beautiful at the end of the day; 
 so quiet, long stretches of green just broken here and 
 there by the shepherds' huts, and the long lines of aque- 
 ducts, curiously lonely so close to a great city. 
 
 We had just time to dress and dine, and start for the 
 gala at the opera. The theatre (Argentina) is small, 
 and stands in a narrow street. There was a long file of 
 carriages, and so little space in front, that there could be 
 no display of troops, music, etc., as one has always 
 in Paris for a gala night at the Opera. Inside, too, all 
 is small, the entrance, corridor, staircase, etc. Once 
 we had got to our box the coup d'ceil was charming. 
 The whole house is boxes, tier upon tier, all dark red 
 inside, which threw out the womens' dresses and jewels 
 splendidly. They were almost all in white with hand- 
 some tiaras, the men in uniform, at least the diploma- 
 tists and officers. The peuple souverain, senators, depu- 
 ties, etc., in the parterre were in black. The heat was
 
 3IO ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 something awful. The Court came very punctually — 
 the Queen looked handsome with her beautiful tiara, the 
 King of course in uniform, the President between them in 
 black with no decoration. The house went mad (every 
 one standing of course) when they played the Marseillaise, 
 all the parterre cheering and waving hats and handker- 
 chiefs; equally mad when they stopped that and played 
 the Marcia Reale. The King, who is generally quite im- 
 passive, looked pleased. The performance, like all gala 
 performances, was long, but the Royal party didn't look 
 bored, and seemed to talk to each other, and to Loubet 
 quite a good deal. The King has a serious, almost stern 
 face, with a keen, steady look in the eye. I should think 
 he saw everything. The end of the ballet was a fine pot- 
 pourri of French and Italian flags, Marseillaise and Mar- 
 cia Reale, and the Court left in a roar of cheers. The 
 Queen bowed very graciously and prettily right and left 
 as she turned to go. 
 
 The getting away was difficult and disagreeable, the 
 narrow street was crowded with royal carriages, all the 
 horses prancing and backing, and no one paying attention 
 to anything else. However, it was a fine, dry night, and 
 once we had got across the street we found our carriage 
 (guided by the faithful Pietro) without any trouble. 
 
 This morning the Piazza is most interesting. Evi- 
 dently the King and President pass at the foot of the 
 square, as there are troops everywhere, and a double line 
 of soldiers stretching across the top of the Tritone. 
 Every description of vehicle, omnibuses, fiacres, peas- 
 ants' carts, people on horseback, all ranged close up 
 behind the soldiers; groups of carabinieri with their 
 red plumets are scattered about the Piazza; a long line 
 of red-coated German seminarists crossing at one end, 
 two or three Cappucini with their sandals, bare feet, and
 
 1904] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 311 
 
 ropes at their waists, coming out of their church, but not 
 stopping to see the show. 
 
 I am writing as usual at the window, and a fine smell 
 of frittura comes up from the shop underneath. A most 
 animated discussion is going on just under the window 
 between a peasant, sitting well back on his donkey's tail, 
 two baskets slung over his saddle, strawberries in one, 
 nespoli (medlars) in the other, and a group of ragged, 
 black-eyed little imps to whom some young Englishmen 
 have just given some pennies. They all talk, and every 
 now and then some enterprising boy makes a dive at the 
 baskets, whereupon the man makes his donkey kick, and 
 the children scatter. All the people in the street, and the 
 coachmen of the little botte (there is a station in the 
 Piazza Barberini) take a lively interest in the discus- 
 sion ; so do I from the window, but the police are arriv- 
 ing and the man will be obliged to come to terms. The 
 coachmen of the botte are a feature of Rome, they spot 
 the foreigner at once, and always try to get the better 
 of him. I took a carriage the other day to go and break- 
 fast with Mrs. Cameron in the Piazza di Spagna, about 
 two minutes' drive, and asked our porter what I must 
 give the coachman. He said one lira (franc). When 
 we arrived I gave my franc, which he promptly refused 
 to receive; however I told him I knew that was the 
 tariff and I wouldn't give any more. He protested 
 energetically, giving every possible reason why I should 
 give more — his carriage was the best in the piazza, the 
 road (Via Tritone) was very bad, down hill and slip- 
 pery, he had waited some time in the piazza for me, etc. ; 
 however I was firm and said I would only give him one 
 franc. Two other coachmen who were standing near 
 joined in the discussion and told him he was quite wrong, 
 that a franc was all he was entitled to. He instantly
 
 312 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 plunged into an angry dispute with them, and in the 
 meantime Mrs. Cameron's door opened, so I put the franc 
 on the cushion of the carriage, he in a frenzy, telling me 
 he wouldn't go away, but would stay there with his car- 
 riage until I came out. That I told him he was at per- 
 fect liberty to do, and went into the house. He and the 
 others then proceeded to abuse each other and make such 
 a row that when I got up to Mrs. Cameron's rooms she 
 said she couldn't think what was going on in the street, 
 there was such a noise and violent quarrelling — so I told 
 her it was all me and my botta. 
 
 Thursday, April 28th. 
 
 Well, dear, the fetes are over, the President has de- 
 parted, and the Piazza Barberini has at once resumed its 
 ordinary aspect; no more carabinieri, nor police, nor car- 
 riages full of people, waiting all day in the square in 
 the hope of seeing King or President pass. I wonder 
 what the old Triton sitting on his shell with his dolphins 
 around him thinks of this last show. He has sat there 
 for centuries, throwing his jet of water high in the air, 
 and seeing many wonderful sights. 
 
 The reception at the Farnese Palace was most brilliant 
 last night. We got there too late to see the King and 
 Queen and President receiving; there was such a crowd 
 in the streets, which were all illuminated, that we couldn't 
 get across the Corso, and were obliged to make a long 
 detour. The Farnese Palace looked beautiful as we 
 came up, the rows of lights throwing out the splendid 
 facade, the big doors open, quantities of handsome car- 
 riages, people in uniform and ladies in full dress and 
 jewels who had got out of their carriages, crowding into 
 the grand old court. The royal carriages were all drawn 
 up inside the court, and the group of footmen in their
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 313 
 
 bright red liveries made a fine effect of colour at the foot 
 of the stairs. It was an interesting assemblage, all Rome 
 (White) there, and all most curious to see the President. 
 I didn't see either King or Queen. They were already 
 making their progress through the rooms, which were so 
 crowded that it was impossible to pass. The famous 
 Carracci Gallery looked magnificent lighted. The Am- 
 bassador and Madame Barrere received their numerous 
 guests most courteously, and didn't look tired, but I fancy 
 it was a relief to them when the fetes and their respon- 
 sibility were over. 
 
 We have had to put off our journey until Saturday. 
 They wouldn't undertake to keep us reserved compart- 
 ments, not even sleeping, until Saturday, there would be 
 such a crowd. I don't exactly know why, for the Presi- 
 dent left this morning, going south, and we, of course, 
 are coming north, but every one told me not to go, so 
 we have telegraphed to the Ruspolis to say we would go 
 out and breakfast with them at Nemi. 
 
 There were quantities of affiches posted everywhere 
 this morning which I shouldn't think would please either 
 the King of Italy or the French President : " Viva Loubet 
 — Viva Combes — Viva la France anticlericale." 
 
 Josephine and I went for a drive. It had rained all the 
 morning, and was grey and damp, but we didn't mind. 
 We both of us love the Campagna in all its varying as- 
 pects. We walked about for some time, but had diffi- 
 culty in choosing our ground, on account of the shep- 
 herds' dogs, which are very fierce sometimes, and the 
 troops of buffaloes. Josephine had a disagreeable ex- 
 perience one day with the buffaloes. She was walking on 
 the Campagna with her small children and her Italian 
 footman, when suddenly a troop of these wild creatures 
 charged down upon her at a headlong pace. There was
 
 314 ITALIAN LETTERS [April 
 
 no refuge of any kind near; the footman, frightened to 
 death, promptly ran away. She was terrified, but didn't 
 lose her head. She stood quite still, the children clinging 
 to her skirts, and the herd divided, passing by on either 
 side; but she might have been trampled to death. 
 Naturally she has given them a wide berth since. 
 
 Friday, April 29th. 
 
 I will finish to-night dear, as we have come upstairs 
 early after a long day in the country. The trunks are 
 all ready, some of them downstairs, and we start early to- 
 morrow morning. They say the confusion yesterday at 
 the station, when the President departed, was awful, 
 people — ladies — rushing about distractedly trying to find 
 places, no footmen allowed inside, not enough porters to 
 carry the heavy dressing-bags and rouleaux. Some peo- 
 ple couldn't get any places, could only start last night. 
 
 We had a pleasant day at Nemi. We went out by 
 train. There were a good many people, evidently start- 
 ing for the regular round of Castelli Romani, princi- 
 pally English and Americans, and principally women, 
 very few men, but large parties, six and seven, of women 
 and girls. It is a pretty road across the Campagna and 
 up the steep hill to Albano, and as our speed was not 
 terrifying we had ample time to see everything. The 
 Ruspoli carriage was waiting for us, and we had a beau- 
 tiful drive to Nemi. It is really a lovely little place — 
 the deep blue lake at the foot of the hills, and all the 
 country about us green. Our hosts were waiting for us 
 in one of the numerous salons, and we had time to go 
 over the castle a little before breakfast, which we had in 
 a charming old-fashioned room, with wonderful frescoes 
 on the walls. They have already done wonders in the 
 old feudal castle, and I should think it would be a charm-
 
 i 9 o 4 ] OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE 315 
 
 ing summer residence, as no heat could penetrate these 
 thick walls. The view from the balcony was divine, over 
 green slopes and little woods to the lake. 
 
 We missed our train at Albano, so drove on to Castel 
 Gandolfo and waited there for the next one. We had 
 gouter in a lovely little pergola overlooking the lake of 
 Albano, with the great papal villa opposite. It is not 
 very interesting as to architecture, a large square pile. 
 No Pope has lived there since Pio Nono. I believe some 
 French nuns are settled there now. 
 
 It was very warm walking about the little old town, 
 which looked as if it had been asleep for years — no one 
 in the streets, no beggars even, no movement of any kind. 
 Just as we were starting for the station three or four 
 carriages rilled with tourists rattled through. It is cu- 
 rious to see how life seems to go on in just the same 
 grooves in all these little towns. Rome has so changed 
 — changes so all the time — is getting cosmopolitan, a 
 great capital ; but all these little mountain villages seem 
 quite the same as in the old days of Savellis, Colonnas, 
 and Orsinis, when most of the great feudal chiefs were 
 at daggers drawn and all the country fought over, and 
 changing hands after each fierce encounter. The few 
 people one meets look peaceful enough, but on the small- 
 est provocation eyes flash, tones and gestures get loud and 
 threatening, but apparently they calm down at once and 
 are on the whole, I fancy, a lazy, peaceable population. 
 
 It is warm to-night, the windows are open and the Mar- 
 seillaise still has the honours of the night — one hears it 
 everywhere.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Albano, 30 
 
 Alberti, 20-21 
 
 Alfieri, 105 
 
 Allessandri, Carlo, 27, 35 
 
 Altieri, Cardinal, death of, 30 
 
 Angelico, Fra, 39 
 
 Antonelli, Cardinal, 61, 284, 288, 
 
 306 
 d'Aosta, Duke, 223 
 Apponyi, Count, 73 
 Arbuthnot, Miss, 26 
 d'Asoli, 271 
 d'Asoli, Princess, 254 
 d'Aubigny, M. and Madame, 45 
 d'Aulnay, 62, 116 
 d'Aulnay, Comtesse, 57 
 Austria, Emperor of, 177 
 d'Autas, 295 
 
 Baddeley, Mr., 280 
 
 Bailey, Mrs., 76 
 
 Bailleul, Madame de, 230; re- 
 ceived by the Queen, 240, 244, 
 257 
 
 Bandini, Prince, 144 
 
 Bandini, Princess, 51, 54, 63, 69, 
 145 ; gives musicale, 146 
 
 Beauharnais, Comtesse de, 116 
 
 Bertheny, Countess de, 262 
 
 Bibra, 62, 69, 143, 145 
 
 Bicletis, Monsignor, 249, 250, 251, 
 255 
 
 Bishop, Mr. and Mrs., 299 
 
 Bonghi, 105 
 
 Borghese, Giovanni, 266 
 
 Brancaccio, Princess, 93 
 
 Brandt, Otto, 102 
 
 Brinquant, 21 
 
 Bruce, Mrs., 41, 50, 51; gives 
 dinner, 68-69, 89, 106, 169, 
 174 
 
 Brusatti, General, 275 
 
 Bruschi, Countess, 306 
 
 Bunsen, Charles de, 14, 34; ar- 
 rives at Rome, 108, no, 114, 
 118; returns to Florence, 119, 
 180 
 
 Bunsen, Madame de, 14, 15, 34, 
 179, 180, 254, 288 
 
 Cabat, M., 117 
 
 Cabriac, Marquis de, 71 
 
 Cairoli, 45, 52, 64, 80; speaks in 
 
 Chamber, 83 ; gives dinner, 96- 
 
 98 
 Cairoli, Madame, 45, 51, 64, 68; 
 
 gives dinner, 96-98 
 Calabrini, 51, 56, 62, 63, 67, 81 
 Calice, Countess, 67 
 Cameron, Mrs., 311 
 Caprannica, Bianca, 142 
 Caprannica, Marchesa, 142 
 Cardenas, the, give dinner, 144 
 Cavaletti, Maurizio, 69 
 Cavour, 84, 223, 224 
 Celleri, Countess, 80, 99 
 Cenci, 54 
 Cesarini, Marquise Villa, 253 
 
 317
 
 3i8 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Chambord, Comte de, 117 
 Charles Albert, King of Savoy, 
 
 220 
 Charette, 120 
 Chigi, Marquise, 89 
 Cialdini, 67 
 Coello, Count, 148 
 Colobiano, Count, 222 
 Colonna, Prince, 282, 283, 306 
 Colonna, Princess, death of, 30 
 Comandi, 29 
 Cook, 91, 95 
 Crosby, Schuyler, 27 
 Curtis, Bessie, 61, 230 
 
 Daudet, M., 200 
 
 Del Monte, 108, 148; walk with, 
 
 172 
 Despretis, Madame, 51 
 Desprez, 45, 55, 57, 71, 92, 144 
 Diemor, 248 
 Director of Museum at Milan, 
 
 186, 199, 212, 216 
 Doria, 100 
 Doria, Gwendoline, 81 
 
 Edwards, Mrs., 65 
 Edwards, Hon. Sylvia, 65 
 Elena, Queen of Italy, gives au- 
 dience, 240-242 ; at the court 
 ball, 243, 253, 299; at the opera, 
 310; gives reception in honour 
 of President Loubet, 312 
 English, Monsignor, 63, 66, 79; 
 brings Pope's photograph, 155 
 d'Eu, Comte and Comtesse, 250 
 Evans, Father, 268 
 
 Field, Mr., 245 
 Field, Mrs., 237, 305 
 Forbes, Misses, 26, 184 
 Frankenstein, Countess, 309 
 Freycinet, 5, 60 
 Freycinet, Madame de, 6 
 Fua, Teresina, 248 
 
 Gabriac, Marquis de, 144 
 
 Garibaldi, 120, 122 
 
 Genoa, Duchess of, 287, 288 
 
 Geoff roy, 62, 63, 64, 89, 117, 168 
 
 Geoff roy, MaHame, 117 
 
 Germany, Crown Princess of, 101, 
 104, 108, 109, 207; daughters of, 
 210 
 
 Gianotti, Count, 243, 262 
 
 Gianotti, Countess, gives after- 
 noon tea, 262 
 
 Gittone, 275 
 
 Gosselins, 108, 109 
 
 Gounod, 296 
 
 Grants, 51 
 
 Gravina, 96 
 
 Greppi, Comte, 275 
 
 Grevy, Madame, 9, 11 
 
 Guadagni, Madame, 34 
 
 Guery, Don, 272, 279 
 
 Guglielmi, Marquis, 298 
 
 Helena, Queen of Italy, see Elena 
 Hoffman, Mr., 216, 222, 223 
 Hohenlohe, Cardinal 165 
 Hooker Mr., 51, 66, 120; gives 
 
 dinner, 142, 174; recollections, 
 
 176 
 Howard, Cardinal, 50, 61, 70, 75, 
 
 109, 147 
 Hubert, 225 
 Hubert, Madame, 13, 47, 58, 63, 
 
 71, 168, 185, 188, 196, 200, 203, 
 
 216, 221 
 Humbert, King of Italy, 65, 66; 
 
 birthday, 76, 79, 91 
 
 Ireland, Monsignor, 23 
 Ismail, Pasha, ex-Khedive of 
 Egypt, 76 
 
 Kahn, Malcolm, 275 
 Keats, John, 286 
 Keudell, 101-103, 106, 108 
 Keudell, Madame, 102, 103, 108
 
 INDEX 
 
 3*9 
 
 King, Charles, 30; death of, 119- 
 
 120 
 King, Fanny, 176 
 King, Henrietta, 124, 134, 218 
 King, Mrs., 123, 132, 134, 137, 139 
 King, William, 124, 132 
 Kruft, 5 
 
 Lanciani, 44, 63, 88, 89, 159 
 
 Landi, Madame, 40 
 
 Law, Mrs., 275 
 
 Leuchtenberg, Duke of, 116 
 
 Loubet, President, 305; reception 
 of, 306-307; at the opera, 309- 
 310; at the reception at the 
 Farnese Palace, 312, 314 
 
 Lovatellis, 51, 94 
 
 Low, Mr. and Mrs. Seth, 273 
 
 Lucchesi-Palli, 117 
 
 Lyons, Lord, 7 
 
 MacMahon, Madame de, 10, 11 
 MacMahon, Marshal, 10, 73 
 Maffei, 64, 97, 108, 159 
 Malatesta, Felice, 59, 61, 86, 94, 
 
 108 
 Malatesta, Countess, 75 
 Maquay, George, 32, 35, 184 
 Maquay, Louisa, 36, 184 
 Maquay, Nina, 36, 184 
 Marcello, Comtesse, 93, 95, 98 
 Margherita, Queen of Italy, 220, 
 234; gives audience, 253, 285, 
 287 
 Marina, Marquise Villa, 253, 285, 
 
 287 
 Massari, 87, 105 
 
 Massimo, Prince, 74, 218, 255, 272 
 Mathieu, Cardinal, 254, 255, 304, 
 
 306 
 Medici, Catherine de', 33 
 Menabrea, 67 
 
 Meyers, the, give dinner, 304 
 Michelangelo, 59 
 
 Minghetti, 52, 56, 69, 81, 105, 181- 
 
 183 
 
 Minghetti, Madame, 51, 52, 56, 57, 
 69, 81 ; receives, 105, 108 
 
 Mirafiori, Comtesse, 183 
 
 Mohl, Madame, 50 
 
 Murrays, 209, 210-21 1 
 
 Mustel, M. Alphonse, 279, 280, 
 285 ; plays before Queen Mar- 
 gherita, 287 
 
 Naples, Prince of, 86, 94 
 
 Napoleon, Louis, 84, 223 
 
 Nassau, Duke of, 28 
 
 Nevin, Dr., 48, 88, 242 
 
 Nina, Cardinal, 61, 80 
 
 Nisard, M., 240 
 
 Noailles, Marquis de, 45, 48, 87, 98 
 
 Noailles, Marquise de, 48, 51, 56, 
 57 ; gives dinner, 64, 87, 96, 100 ; 
 receives, 107, 108; gives fare- 
 well dinner to the Wadding- 
 tons, 159 
 
 Norton, Mrs., 139-142 
 
 Orloff, Prince, 10 
 
 Orsini, Prince, 295 
 
 " Ouida," 27 ; description of, 28 
 
 Ouronsoff, Prince, 244 
 
 Paget, Sir Augustus, 51, 64, 82, 
 102, 109 
 
 Paget, Lady, 51. 57, 64; receives, 
 89, 102, 109 
 
 Palfy, Count, 52, 70, 92; conver- 
 sation with, 174 
 
 Pallavicini, Princess, 51, 54, 67; 
 gives reception, 86-87, 246; re- 
 ceives, 277 
 
 Pannissera, Madame, 107 
 
 Pasetti, Baron, 242 
 
 Paul, Duchess of Mecklenburg, 
 
 297 
 Pecoul, Therese, 273 
 Perret, 68
 
 320 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Peruzzi, Edith, 18, 36, 108, 184 
 
 Peruzzi, Ubaldino, 181, 206 
 
 Pierson, 4 
 
 Pietro, 267, 310 
 
 Pietro, Cardinal di, 79 
 
 Poggio-Suasa, Princess di (nee 
 Curtis), 230, 238, 244, 248; gives 
 dinner, 259, 262, 266; gives din- 
 ner, 273, 285, 286, 291, 292, 294, 
 
 304, 305, 313 
 
 Poggio-Suasa, Princess di (nee 
 Talleyrand-Perigord), 305 
 
 Polk, Antoinette, 160 
 
 Pontecoulant, Comte de, 8, 12 
 
 Pope Leo XIII, 58; audience 
 with, 59; described, 59, 60, 71, 
 146; in his garden, 155, 156, 250 
 
 Pope Pius IX, 56, 58, 59, 69; how 
 he was received in the streets 
 when he rode out, 146; descrip- 
 tion of the blessing from the 
 balcony of St. Peter's, 157-158, 
 250, 264, 315 
 
 Pope Pius X, audience with, 249- 
 251 ; description of, 250 
 
 Primoli, 144 
 
 Queen of Naples, Dowager, death 
 of, 30 
 
 Ramee, Mile, de la, 27 
 Rampolla, Cardinal, 295 
 Recamier, Madame, 168 
 Rignano, Madame, 99 
 Ripaldi, Duke di, 57, 100, 159 
 Ristori, Madame, 142 
 Roccagiovine, Marchese, 266 
 Rodmans, 233 
 Rossi, de, 89 
 
 Rothschild, Madame Alphonse, 99 
 Rudini, Marchesa, gives fete, 272 
 Ruspoli, Camillo, 289, 291, 298 
 Ruspoli, Don Emanuele, 231, 263 
 Ruspoli, Victoria, 255; gives din- 
 ner, 276, 315 
 
 St. Asilea, 87, 98 
 
 Sand, George, 38 
 
 Sant' Onofrio, Madame de, 96 
 
 Savonarola, 39 
 
 Savoy, Princes of, 94 
 
 Saxe-Weimar, Grand Duchess, 
 259. 297 
 
 Say, Leon, 60 
 
 Schuyler, Eugene, 35, 41, 42, 44, 
 56, 69, 77, no, 112, 142 
 
 Schuyler, Mrs. Eugene (" Gert"), 
 35, 41, 42, 44, 61, 62, 63, 64, 67, 
 69; trouble with maid, 76-78, 79, 
 80, 82, 89, 92, 108, no, 113, 118, 
 124, 132, 142 ; at Tivoli, 161 ; 
 gives farewell dinner, 174, 197 
 
 Sciarra, Princess, 49, 89 
 
 Seckendorff, Count, 103, 105, 108 
 
 Sella, 81, 84, 105 
 
 Sermoneta, Duke of, 54 
 
 Serristori, 35 
 
 Sibbern, Madame, 5 
 
 Smith, Father, 55, 79, 87, 91 ; pre- 
 sents a medal, 160, 174; conver- 
 sations with, 177 
 
 Somaglia, Countess, 81, 87, 98, 
 117; her daughters, 117 
 
 Spencer, Mrs. Lorillard, 83 
 
 Stael, Madame de, 168 
 
 Stanley, Dean, 50 
 
 Stanley, Lady Augusta, 50 
 
 Sternberg, Mile, de, 15, 18 
 
 Story, Mrs., 286 
 
 Story, Waldo, 239, 304 
 
 Story, W. W., 18, 109, 239 
 
 Sulmona, 72-73 
 
 Sulmona, Princess, 73, 87, 144 
 
 Sutteroth, M. Alphonse, 5, 8, 200, 
 227 
 
 Talleyrand-Perigord, Charles de, 
 
 26 
 Talleyrand-Perigord, Madame de, 
 
 27, 61
 
 INDEX 
 
 321 
 
 Talleyrand-Perigord, Marquise de 
 (nee Curtis), 230, 237, 242, 244; 
 audience with the Pope, 249- 
 251, 262, 266, 267, 275, 285, 290, 
 302, 304 ; leaves Rome, 307 
 
 Tchaitcheff, Madame de, 16, 25 
 
 Teano, Prince, 51, 54, 56, 105 
 
 Teano, Princess, gives ball, 99, 
 272 
 
 Theoduli, Marchesa, 83 
 
 Thomar, 71 
 
 Thurn, Princess de, 54 
 
 Tosti, 145 ; described and criti- 
 cised, 147 
 
 Townshend, Mrs. Charles L., 95 
 
 Trocchi, 48; sends flowers, 169 
 
 Troubetzkoi, Princess Lise, 98 
 
 Turin, Comte de, 243 
 
 Turkam, Pasha, 76, 101 
 
 Uffizi, 36 
 Uxkull, 64, 81 
 
 Val, Cardinal Mery del, audience 
 
 with, 251-252 
 Valery, Dr., 30, 77, 120 
 Van Loo, 62 
 
 Vannutelli, Cardinal Serafino, 295 
 Vannutelli, Cardinal Vincenzo, 
 
 240; dinner given for, 273, 295, 
 
 306 
 Van Rensselaer, Mrs., 67, 118 
 Van Schaick, Lottie, 16, 17, 35, 
 
 40, 184 
 Venosta, Visconti, 52; speaks in 
 
 Chamber, 80, 83, 105, 159 
 Venosta, Madame Visconti, 64, 
 
 81, 89, 107 
 Vera, 108 
 
 Vicovaro, Princess, 83, 85 
 Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy, 
 
 218, 220, 231 
 Victor Emmanuel III, King of 
 
 Italy, at the court ball, 243, 277, 
 
 299 ; receives President Loubet, 
 306-307 ; at the Opera, 310 ; gives 
 reception in honour of President 
 Loubet, 312 
 
 Villamarina, Marquis de, 81, 87 
 
 Virgo, M., 245, 266, 279 
 
 Visconti, 89 
 
 Vitali, Count, gives dinner for 
 French Ambassador, 240 
 
 Vitelleschi, 67, 69, 87, 279 
 
 Vitelleschi, Marchesa, gives tea, 
 278 
 
 Waddington, Evelyn, 61 
 
 Waddington, Francis, has Christ- 
 mas tree, 5 ; left in Paris, 12, 
 108, 225, 251 
 
 WADDINGTON, Madame, leaves 
 Quai d'Orsay, 3-4; calls on 
 Madame de Freycinet, 6; for- 
 mal receptions, 8; receives Mes- 
 dames Grevy and MacMahon, 
 11; arrives at Florence, 12; ar- 
 rives at M. de Bunsen's, 14; a 
 typical Florentine party, 18; a 
 visit from Alberti, 20; recalls 
 picnic at Segna, 20-22; visits 
 the Ponte Vecchio, 24; drives 
 to Santa Maria Novella, 25; tea 
 at Camerata, 26; dines with 
 Talleyrand-Perigord, 26; takes 
 tea with " Ouida," 27 ; impres- 
 sions of " Ouida," 28; drives to 
 Villa Careggi, 31 ; drives to the 
 Certosa and Casa Guadagni, 
 34; decides to go to Rome, 35; 
 Maquay dinner, 35 ; drives out 
 Fiesole way, 37 ; visits Fra An- 
 gelico's and Savonarola's cells 
 at San Marco, 39; musical 
 evening with the Landis, 40; 
 arrives at Rome, 41 ; her 
 father's illness, 42; calls on 
 Eugene Schuyler, 44; invita-
 
 322 
 
 INDEX 
 
 tions from Embassies, 44; 
 drives along the Via Appia, 45 ; 
 visit to the Vatican, 47; visit 
 from the Marquis de Noailles, 
 48; Princess Sciarra's ball, 49; 
 recollections of Dean Stanley 
 and Cardinal Howard, 50 ; re- 
 ception at the Schuylers', 51 ; 
 reception at Princess Pallavi- 
 cini's, 54 ; pointed out as dis- 
 tinguished strangers, 55 ; dinner 
 at the Teanos', 56; breakfast at 
 the Noailles', 57; audience with 
 the Pope, 58-60; dinner at the 
 Wimpffens', 62; the Pope's im- 
 pression of, 63; dinner at the 
 Noailles', 64; attends the opera, 
 69; dines at the Portuguese 
 Embassy, 71-74; dines with the 
 Pagets, 81 ; dinner at the Cala- 
 brinis', 84; attends American 
 Church, 88; walk on Good Fri- 
 day, 90; service at St. Peter's, 
 90; service at St. John Lateran, 
 91 ; note from the Quirinal, 92 ; 
 audience with the Queen of 
 Italy, 92-95 ; meets the Prince 
 of Naples, 94; breakfast with 
 the Noailles, 95 ; sees Farnese 
 Palace, 95; visits the Bakers' 
 tomb, 96; dines with the Cairoli, 
 96-98; day at the races, 98-99; 
 protests against " valise " regu- 
 lations, 98; attends Teano ball, 
 99 ; visits the Trevi Fountain, 
 100; tea with the Duke di Ri- 
 paldo, 100; dines at German 
 Embassy and meets German 
 Crown Princess, 102-105; at- 
 tends reception at the Noailles', 
 107; musical evening at the 
 Schuylers', 108; dinner with the 
 Wimpffens, 108; meets Crown 
 Princess again, 109; excursion 
 
 to Frascati, no; fails to visit 
 Tusculum, 112, 113; trip to the 
 Vatican, 114-115; ball at the 
 British Embassy, 116; dinner at 
 Villa Medici, 117; recollections 
 of 1867, 119; goes to Naples, 
 119; sees Vesuvius in eruption, 
 123; ascends Mt. Vesuvius, 124- 
 125 ; a long wait at an inn, 
 126-130; fete at the Stella del 
 Mare, 135 ; the nun, 135 ; sail 
 to Capri, 136; Capri, 137; a 
 Capri fishergirl, 139-141; din- 
 ner at Mr. Hooker's, 142 ; visit 
 to the Doria Gallery, 143 ; dines 
 at the Spanish Embassy, 144; 
 musicale at Princess Bandini's, 
 146 ; hears Lohengrin in Ital- 
 ian, 148; drives to Albano, 149- 
 153; last turn in the Vati- 
 can, 154; receives the Pope's 
 photograph, 155; drives to the 
 Villa Madama, 157; farewell 
 dinner at the Noailles', 159; a 
 day at Tivoli, 161-165; a lonely 
 road, 167 ; last drive in the 
 country, 169; walk with Del 
 Monte, 173 ; arrives at Milan, 
 180 ; attends the races, 183 ; 
 holds small reception, 184; a 
 drive about Milan, 187; a visit 
 to the Brera, 188-189; visit to 
 the Duomo, 190; a second visit 
 to the Brera, 192-193; describes 
 the Piazza dei Mercanti, 201, 
 202 ; an afternoon at Monza, 
 204-206; leaves Milan and ar- 
 rives at Turin, 211 ; trip to La 
 Superga, 219-221 ; returns to 
 Paris, 225 ; Rome revisited, 229 ; 
 attends a ball at the Storys', 
 239; dinner at Count Vitali's, 
 240 ; received by the Queen. 
 240-242 ; attends the court ball,
 
 INDEX 
 
 3*3 
 
 243 - 244 ; in the garden of 
 the Vatican, 247 ; music at the 
 French Embassy, 248 ; audience 
 with the Pope, 249-251; au- 
 dience with Cardinal Mery del 
 Val, 251-252; audience with 
 Queen Margherita, 253 ; break- 
 fast with Princess d'Arsoli, 254; 
 at the Pope's audience, 255-256; 
 an expedition to the Cata- 
 combs, 257; dines with Princess 
 Poggio-Suasa, 259; automobile 
 excursion with Countess de 
 Bertheny, 262-265 ; trip to Tus- 
 culum, 267; special guards, 269; 
 fete at the Massimo Palace, 
 271 ; fete given by Marchesa 
 Rudini, 272; dines with Mal- 
 colm Kahn, 275 ; dines with the 
 Ruspolis, 276; Holy Thursday 
 at St. Peter's, 281 ; visits her 
 father's grave, 285; a musical 
 evening at the Palace, 287-288 ; 
 excursion to San Gregorio, 289- 
 291 ; attends ceremony at St. 
 Peter's, the 13th anniversary of 
 Pope Gregorio Magno, 292-296 ; 
 children's ball, 297-298; auto 
 trips with the Bishops, 299-301 ; 
 reception at the Villa Medicis, 
 303 ; dines with the Meyers, 304 ; 
 dines with the Grand Duchess, 
 305 ; reception of President Lou- 
 bet, 306-307 ; attends gala night 
 at the opera, 309-310; recep- 
 tion at the Farnese Palace, 312- 
 313 
 Waddington, M. William H., re- 
 signs as Premier, 3 ; refuses 
 London Embassy, 6; leaves 
 Paris and arrives at Florence, 
 12; arrives at M. de Bunsen's, 
 14; attends the Peruzzis' party 
 and meets Bentivoglio, 18; dines 
 
 with Talleyrand-Perigord, 26; 
 calls on Madame Guadagni, 34 ; 
 arrival at Rome, 41 ; talks with 
 Eugene Schuyler, 44 ; various 
 invitations from Embassies, 44 ; 
 visit to the Vatican, 47 ; visit 
 from Marquis de Noailles, 48; 
 reception in his honour at the 
 Schuylers', 51 ; pointed out as a 
 celebrated man, 55 ; has au- 
 dience with the Pope and con- 
 verses about politics, 50-60; the 
 Pope's opinion of him, 63 ; din- 
 ner at the Noailles', " Cotelettes 
 a la Waddington," 64 ; has au- 
 dience with King Humbert, 65- 
 66 ; meets Cardinal Howard, 70 ; 
 curiosity to meet him, 75 ; at- 
 tends the Chambre des Depu- 
 tes, 80; second visit to the 
 Chambre des Deputes, 83 ; goes 
 to San Clemente, 87 ; walk on 
 the Campagna, 88 ; audience 
 with the Queen of Italy, 92-95 ; 
 insists on "valise " reform, 98 ; 
 delighted with di Ripalda's 
 frescoes, etc., 101 ; conversation 
 with Turkam Bey, 101 ; re- 
 ceived by the German Crown 
 Princess, 103 ; dines with de 
 Rossi, 118; change of mental 
 atmosphere, 147; trip to Al- 
 bano, 149-153; last visit to the 
 Vatican, 154; conversation with 
 Father Smith, 177; speech-mak- 
 ing, 181 ; visits the cabinet de 
 medailles at Milan, 186 ; a visit 
 to the Brera, 192-193 ; receives 
 Mr. Hoffman, 223-224; arrives 
 in Paris, 225 
 Wales, Princess of, 242 
 Wallace, Sir Donald, 281 
 Weling, Mile, de, 28 
 Westenberg, Madame, 68
 
 3 2 4 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Wilbrahams, the, 69 
 
 Wimpffen, Count, 64, 81, 89, 107, 
 242 
 
 Wimpffen, Comtesse, 56; gives 
 dinner, 62, 64, 68, 83; gives re- 
 ception, 84-87, 89, 98, 105; din- 
 
 ner to German Crown Princess, 
 108-109. 
 Wurts, Mr. and Mrs., 69; give 
 dinner, 248, 284, 285 
 
 Zuylen, Cornelie, 83 
 
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