Chapter V: Part I: Italy in the Eighties (4)

We went to the American church this morning as Nevin was so anxious we should see it. There is no very interesting French church--a sort of Vaudois chapel--so we preferred the Capella Americana. It is a pretty little church, very full--I should think a good many English as well as Americans--very good singing and a good sermon, not too long. We had visitors after lunch, and about 4 started for a drive out to Ponte Nomentano. We got out and walked about the Campagna for some time. The view was divine--Frascati and Rocca di Papa on one side, Tivoli on the other. W. thought the old bridge most picturesque. He recognised it instantly from the aquarelle that is in the dining-room at home. As it was Sunday all the country people were out; carts filled with women and children, boys on donkeys, sitting well back, almost on the tails of the animals, and all the little courts in front of the various osterias quite full. There were not exactly costumes, but there was a general impression of colour. The men had bright coloured sashes and shirts--the women nearly all red and blue skirts striped, and a coloured handkerchief on their heads--almost all with long gold ear-rings (some of the men too had ear-rings--large gold hoops) and a string of coloured beads around their necks. Everybody talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. We stopped at the British Embassy for tea. Lady Paget receives always Sunday afternoon. There were various carriages at the door, and the villa looked pretty. The tea-table was on a broad palier at the head of the stairs. It was very well arranged with screens "cassoni," plants, arm-chairs--very original and attractive. I went in first to the drawing-room and had a talk with Lady Paget, then adjourned to the palier with Princess Sciarra and Countess Wimpffen, and we had a very pleasant hour. It was amusing to see all the people coming up the broad staircase. There were of course a great many I didn't know, as besides all the Court set and political people there were many English, all arriving for Holy Week. Mrs. Bruce, Madame Visconti Venosta, Gert, Marquise Chigi came and joined us. I was quite horrified when I found how late it was. We had just time to dress and go and dine with the Geoffroys at the Palazzo Farnese. The evening was very pleasant; decidedly archeological and scientific, but the men were all clever and talked so well that they would have made any subject interesting. We had Visconti, de Rossi, Lanciani, and some of the young men of the Ecole Francaise. They all love Rome and know every stone. W. was quite in his element, talked a great deal himself, and was much interested in their excavations and all the curious things they are finding all the time. I meant to leave early and go to Gert who had a few people at dinner, but it was eleven o'clock before any one moved, and we went quietly home.

Good Friday, March 26, 1880.

I was too tired to-day to do anything, as yesterday we were out all day. W. and I walked about in the morning, going into all sorts of churches whenever we saw one open. There were always people, and in the smaller churches they looked devout and absorbed, but the crowd of strangers in the large, better known basilicas took away any religious feeling. It all seemed a great show, which is practically what Holy Week is in Rome. They say they have not had so many foreigners in years. Last night the "gerant" begged us not to come downstairs until 8 o'clock, or even a quarter past, as they needed all the small tables for the table-d'hote. It was not so very crowded this morning as we breakfast at 12.30, much earlier than the foreigners, who are usually English and come in for luncheon at 1.30.

Yesterday afternoon we went to St. Peter's and found ourselves in a long file of carriages going the same way; also all kinds of pedestrians, priests, nuns, soldiers, artists, Cook's tourists, etc. W. was rather horrified at the crowd in the church, and the regular "bousculade" at the big doors. There was to be very good singing at one of the small chapels, but it was already so full that we couldn't get in, though we had cards from one of the Monsignori. We tried to make our way in but it was utterly impossible, and then stood outside, thinking we might hear; but the people all talked so much that we heard nothing except every now and then a few notes in that curious, high, unnatural voice of the Papal Choir. Two young German priests, with keen intelligent faces, were so put out--begged the people near not to talk--"in zehn Minuten ist alles vorueber" (in ten minutes it will be all over). All Rome was walking about the church, talking and looking about as if they were in a great hall of some kind--a crowd of strangers pushing, jostling, and trying to get up to the High Altar, or the statue of St. Peter where all the faithful were kissing the toe. It was certainly not solemn nor edifying, except when we came upon a quiet corner, with some old chapel filled with tombs of dead Romans, Popes or Princes, who had played a great part in their day. That took us back into the past, and we could realize that we were really in St. Peter's. I tried to show W. the part that was shut off for the great Ecumenical Council under Pio Nono, but I couldn't remember exactly. We shall come back another day with Father Smith who will know all about it. I did find the Stuart monument with the busts of Charles Edward and Cardinal York. People kept pouring into the church, but it is so enormous that, except at certain places, it was quite easy to circulate. All the women (except a few stray tourists) were in black, and every now and then one saw a long file of seminaristes, also in black, but with a coloured sash to mark their nationality. I think the Americans wear blue--the French are quite black--no colour. We talked to quantities of people--it was like an enormous reception. I was very tired when we finally came out, as of course we were walking and standing about all the time. There is no aisle with regular seats as in most churches--merely a few prie-Dieu inside the side chapels. The drive home was lovely--we went at a walk almost all the time, there were so many carriages.

I went out after all this afternoon with W. and Monsignor English to St. John Lateran, where they were singing a Miserere of Cappoci's. It is most strange, weird music, and the voices of the men are so unlike anything one hears elsewhere. There was always the same crowd. I will say Cook does his business thoroughly--wherever there is anything to see or hear he pilots all his band. After the Miserere was over we stood some time at the foot of the Scala Santa. It was black with people going up on their knees, saying a prayer at each step (I think there are 30) and some of them did look serious and absorbed. They were principally peasants--every now and then some well-dressed bourgeois. Monsignor English told us we would be surprised at the class of people (society) who come early, before the great crowd of sight-seers.

We went back to the Palazzo Altemps, picking up Count Palfy on the way, where Gert had promised us tea and hot cross buns from Spillman's (very good they were).

We found a note from the Quirinal when we came home saying the Queen would receive us to-morrow at 2.30. Desprez came and sat some time. He told W. all that was going on in Paris--the Ministry as usual struggling against the Radicals who are always wanting to suppress the French Embassy at the Vatican. It doesn't make the position of the Ambassador very pleasant, but Desprez is very wise, has had long training at the Foreign Office, and will certainly do all he can to conciliate and keep things straight.

_To H. L. K._

Saturday, March 27, 1880.

It was raining this morning, and I was very glad. The dust was getting most disagreeable in one's eyes and throat, and covering everything. I am glad, too, that it is cool, decidedly, as I wanted to wear my blue velvet. If it had been a bright warm day it would have looked dark and heavy. It is four o'clock--we have just come in from our audience, and I will write at once while the impression is fresh. W. has a "rendezvous" with some of the French Institute people, and I shall not see him again until dinner time. We got to the palace (a great ugly yellow building, standing high) quickly enough, as there was no one in the streets at that hour, and drove into the court-yard to a handsome entrance and staircase. There were a few soldiers about, but not much movement. A carriage came in behind us, and just as we were going upstairs some one called my name. It was Bessie Brancaccio,[21] who had also an audience with the Queen. She had come to thank her for her appointment as dame de palais. I was glad to have just that glimpse of her, as they are not in Rome this winter. Their beautiful house is not ready for them, so they have been spending the winter in Nice. We walked through a large anteroom where there were three or four servants and an "ecuyer," and in the first salon we were received by the Comtesse Marcello, one of the Queen's ladies, a Venetian and a great friend of Mary's, and the gentleman-in-waiting, whose name I didn't master. We talked for a few minutes--she said a lady was with the Queen. The room was handsome, prettily furnished and opened into another--three or four, in fact, all communicating. After about ten minutes we saw a lady come out of the end room, the door of which was open, so Comtesse Marcello ushered us through the suite. We went to the corner room, quite at the end, where the Queen was waiting standing. We went through the usual ceremony. The Comtesse Marcello made a low curtsey on the threshold, saying, "I have the honour to present his Excellency, M. Waddington and Madame Waddington," and instantly retired. The Queen was standing quite at the end of the room (a lovely, bright corner room, with lots of windows and a magnificent view over Rome--even on a dull day it looked cheerful and spacious). I had ample time for my three curtseys. She let us come quite close up to her, and then shook hands with us both and made us sit down--I next to her on the sofa, W. in an arm-chair in front. I found her rather changed since I had seen her. She has lost the girlish appearance she had so long, and her manner was nervous, particularly at first. When she began to talk and was interested and animated she was more like what I remembered her as Princess Marguerite. She was dressed in bronze satin, with a flowered brocade "casaque," and one string of splendid pearls. She told W. she was very pleased to see him, remembered that I had lived in Rome before my marriage, and asked if I still sang, Vera had talked so much about the music in Casa Pierret, and the trios we used to sing there with Lovatelli and Malatesta. The talk was most easy, about everything, generally in French, but occasionally breaking into English, which she speaks quite well. W. was delighted with her--found her most interesting and "tres instruite"--not at all the banal talk one expects to have with sovereigns--in fact, I quite forgot we were having a royal audience. It was a very pleasant visit to a charming woman, in a pretty room with all sorts of beautiful pictures and "bibelots" about. While we were still there the Prince of Naples[22] came in. We both got up; she told him to shake hands with W. and to kiss me, and to ask me how old my little boy was, which he did quite simply and naturally. He told his mother he was going to ride. I asked him if he had a nice pony, to which he replied in English, "Oh, yes, jolly," and asked if my little boy rode. I said not yet; he was only two years old. The child looked intelligent, but delicate. They say his mother makes him work too much, is so ambitious for him; and he has rather that look. The Princes of Savoy have always been soldiers rather than scholars, but I suppose one could combine the two. The Queen also spoke about the Bunsens, and "little Beatrice";[23] said she was very fond of Mary. I was very sorry when the audience was over and she dismissed me, saying she had people waiting.

[21] Princess Brancaccio, born Field.

[22] The present King.

[23] Now Mrs. Charles Loftus Townshend, of Castle Townshend, Ireland.

We found Bessie and one or two other ladies in the first salon when we came out, waiting their turn. Comtesse Marcello was delighted with all W. said about the Queen. He was very enthusiastic, for him, as he is not generally gushing. I told her she had remembered that I had lived some years in Rome as Mary King, and she said: "Oh, yes, she remembered you and all your family perfectly, and knew that you had married M. Waddington."

Tuesday, March 30, 1880.

It is much pleasanter to-day--quite Spring-like, and the Piazza is full of people. I have drawn my little writing table close up to the window, and I am afraid my correspondence will suffer, as there is always so much to see. Almost all the little botte have departed, in fact W., who has just started off with Visconti for the Vatican to look at the coins, took the last one. Cook's two big omnibuses have also just started for Tivoli--crammed. Some of the people dashed into Nazzari's, and reappeared with little paper bags, filled evidently with goodies.

Yesterday W. and I breakfasted again at the Noailles', and they took us over the palace (Farnese) which is quite splendid, such enormous rooms and high ceilings. The great gallery with the famous Carracci frescoes looked beautiful in the daylight, and we saw them much better. The colours are still quite wonderful, hardly faded, some of the figures so graceful and life-like. Madame de Noailles' bed-room and dressing-room are huge. The enormous bedstead hardly took up any room at all. She said it took her some little time to accustom herself to such very spacious apartments, she almost had the impression of sleeping in the streets.

We went for a drive afterward out of Porta Maggiore to look at the Baker's tomb--do you remember it, a great square tomb with rows of little cells? We wandered about on foot for some time, looked at the bits that remain of the old Roman road, and then drove out some distance toward the arches of the Claudian Viaduct. It is the road we shall take when we go to Tivoli. It was not quite clear, so the hills hadn't the beautiful colour they have when the sun is on them--but the grey atmosphere seems to suit the Campagna, which is after all a long stretch of barren, desolate country broken at intervals by the long lines of aqueducts--every now and then a square tower standing out straight and solitary against the sky, and hardly visible until one comes close upon it, and a few shepherds' huts, sometimes with a thatched roof, sometimes what remains of an old tomb, with a dried-up old woman apparently as old as the tomb spinning in the doorway. We met very few vehicles of any description.

We dined at the Palazzo della Consulta where Cairoli, Foreign Minister, lives. There were not many women--Madame de Noailles, Gert, Madame de Sant' Onofrio (wife of one of Cairoli's secretaries), and quantities of men. They divided the honours--Cairoli took in Madame de Noailles--Madame Cairoli, W. The Prefet of Rome, Gravina, took me and put me on Cairoli's left. We all talked Italian, and I rather enjoyed myself. I told Gravina how much I preferred "Roma com' era," that the new buildings and the boulevards and the bustle and the quantities of people had spoiled the dear, dead, old Rome of our days--to which he replied "but you, Madame, are an American born, you surely can't be against progress." Oh, no, I like progress in my own country, but certainly not here. Rome was never intended to be modern and go-ahead--it didn't go with the monuments and the ruins and the traditions of old Rome. However he answered me quite seriously that not only every country, but every individual, must "marcher," or else they would "deperir." Cairoli joined in the conversation, others too, and there was rather an interesting discussion as to how much could be left to sentiment, association of the past, etc., when an old historic city was being transformed into a busy, modern, political centre.

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 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 Ambassador 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. 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, Celleri, 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 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 Farnesina 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 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 disgusted 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 beautiful gods and cupids over our heads. How many different 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 emergency, 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 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 disappointed 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 himself, and took us into the large salon, where Madame Keudell 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 recognised 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 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 Seckendorff. 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, "Principally 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," standing 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 travelling 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 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 charming 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 married 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 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 Wimpffen 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 bronze 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 intelligent, 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 even attempting a fight--they had quite lost their hold on the country. Madame Minghetti seems as keen about politics 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 understood 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 believe 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 instantly 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 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 carriages at the door when we drove up. We met so many people coming away, on the stairs and in the long anteroom, 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 furniture (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 absorbed 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 remember all the things I want to tell when we get back--so much that one can't write. My black satin was right--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, Malatesta, 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 morning 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 simply with her lady and Count Seckendorff. The other guests arrived almost immediately--the Pagets, Minghettis, Gosselins of the British Embassy, and Maffei, Under-Secretary of the Foreign Office. About a quarter to eight the Princess arrived with her lady and chamberlain, 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 Caffarelli (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 standing, 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 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 occasionally 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 breakfast, and then sallied out for a walk.

The little piazza before the hotel was filled with donkeys and boys, all clamouring to us to have a ride, expatiating on the merits of their beasts, and making a perfect 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 outside the gates opposite the Torlonia villa. I wanted so much to see the old house again, it was inhabited by a Russian family, and at first there seemed some little difficulty 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 daring 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 perfectly 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 colossal 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, washing apparatus, tables, nor chairs. I suppose the "locataires" 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--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 milieu 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 English 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 preferred 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 often, Monte Compatri, Monte Porzio, the Campi d'Annibale 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 puo 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. However, our little gleam of sunlight didn't last--first came big drops, then a regular downpour, and in a few minutes 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 little path with the donkeys slipping and stumbling, and the rain falling in buckets. I was wet through in ten minutes, 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 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 combined effect of the donkey and the damp.

April 11, 1880.

Yesterday it rained hard all day, there was quite a little 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 preserved. 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 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 suffering. 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 engraving 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. Catherine, 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 inscriptions 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 terrace is very fine--the whole of Rome at our feet stretching 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.