Italian Letters of a Diplomat's Life Part 17

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[35] wants her 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.

[35] Princesse di Poggio Suasa, nee Talleyrand-Perigord.

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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 gaping 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 n.a.z.ionale, 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 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; n.o.body was hurt (I never can imagine why not, when the horses all backed down on them), n.o.body 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 cuira.s.siers 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 Ma.r.s.eillaise. As soon as the cortege had pa.s.sed the crowd broke up, quant.i.ties 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 torch-light 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 procession had pa.s.sed, but the streets were still brilliantly lighted and very gay, quant.i.ties 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 sight-seers. Quant.i.ties of people have 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 ordered 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 a.s.sured 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 delightful, so shady and resting to the eyes after the glare and sun of the beach. All the way to Nettuno there are quant.i.ties 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 sh.o.r.e.

We had tea on the sh.o.r.e, made in Countess Frankenstein'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 aqueducts, 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 s.p.a.ce 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'oeil was charming. The whole house is boxes, tier upon tier, all dark red inside, which threw out the women's dresses and jewels splendidly. They were almost all in white with handsome tiaras, the men in uniform, at least the diplomatists and officers. The peuple souverain, senators, deputies, etc., in the parterre were in black. The heat was 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 Ma.r.s.eillaise, all the parterre cheering and waving hats and handkerchiefs; equally mad when they stopped that and played the Marcia Reale. The King, who is generally quite impa.s.sive, 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 potpourri of French and Italian flags, Ma.r.s.eillaise and Marcia 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. Evidently the King and President pa.s.s 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, peasants'

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 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 discussion; so do I from the window, but the police are arriving 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 breakfast 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 slippery, 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 ent.i.tled to. He instantly 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 carriage until I came out. That I told him he was at perfect 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 departed, and the Piazza Barberini has at once resumed its ordinary aspect; no more carabinieri, nor police, nor carriages full of people, waiting all day in the square in the hope of seeing King or President pa.s.s. I wonder what the old Triton sitting on his sh.e.l.l 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, quant.i.ties of handsome carriages, 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 bright red liveries made a fine effect of colour at the foot of the stairs. It was an interesting a.s.semblage, 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 pa.s.s.

The famous Carracci Gallery looked magnificent lighted. The Amba.s.sador 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 responsibility were over.

We have had to put off our journey until Sat.u.r.day. They wouldn't undertake to keep us reserved compartments, not even sleeping, until Sat.u.r.day, there would be such a crowd. I don't exactly know why, for the President 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 quant.i.ties 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 aspects. We walked about for some time, but had difficulty in choosing our ground, on account of the shepherds' dogs, which are very fierce sometimes, and the troops of buffaloes. Josephine had a disagreeable experience 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 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, pa.s.sing 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 people 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 starting for the regular round of Castelli Romani, princ.i.p.ally English and Americans, and princ.i.p.ally 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 beautiful 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 charming 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 filled with tourists rattled through. It is curious 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 smallest 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 Ma.r.s.eillaise still has the honours of the night--one hears it everywhere.