The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 Part 16

"No," he said, "though it broke my heart to refuse. In military affairs one must not interfere with the discipline."

"But this one," I urged, tearfully; "could there not be extenuating circ.u.mstances? Do pardon him, your Majesty. Just think what that would mean for the poor mother."

But the King, true to his ideas of military discipline, said: "No! He is condemned to die. He must die."

The King could not shake off the impression this interview had made on him, and J., who pa.s.sed the evening in the smoking-room with his Majesty, said that he never saw the King so depressed as he was this evening.

The Queen came up to me directly after dinner, saying: "What _were_ you and the King talking about? You both looked so serious and sad."

I told her.

She said, "The King has such a good heart."

The thought of the poor young fellow who was to be shot kept me awake, and I thought at five o'clock that I heard the report of guns, but I was not sure. My imagination was so keen that I could have pictured anything to myself.

The first thing the King said to me at luncheon was, "Did you hear this morning?"

I told him I heard something, but I dreaded to think what it might have meant.

"Alas!" he said, as his eyes filled with tears, "it is too true, I hate to think of it."

We left Monza at three o'clock this afternoon, I cannot tell you how kind their Majesties were to me! The Queen kissed me good-by and said, "_Au revoir a Rome_."

The King gave me his arm and went down the steps of the grand staircase of the princ.i.p.al entrance with me and put me himself in the landau.

"You do not know what an honor this is," said Signor Peruzzi--as if I did not appreciate it!

We drove to the station in state and traveled in the royal compartment to Milan.... We intended to leave for Rome and home this evening, but I feel too tired to do anything but send to you these few lines and go to bed.

To-morrow night will find us in the Palazzo t.i.ttoni, where the children already have arrived.

ROME, _January, 1885_.

Dear Aunt Maria,--Just now we are reveling in Liszt. Rome is wild over him, and one leaves no stone unturned in order to meet him. Fortunate are those who have even a glimpse of him, and thrice blessed are those who _know_ and hear him. He is the prince of musicians--in fact, he is treated like a prince. He always has the precedence over every one; even Amba.s.sadors--so tenacious of their rights--give them up without hesitation. Every one is happy to pay this homage to genius.

We met him the first time at M. de Schlozer's dinner. Schlozer, with his usual tact, plied him well with good food, gave him the best of wines and a superlative cigar. (Liszt is a great epicure and an inveterate smoker.) M. de Schlozer never mentioned the word "music,"

but made Liszt talk, and that was just the thing Liszt wanted to do, until, seeing that he was not expected to play, he was crazy to get to the piano. Finally he could not resist, and said to Schlozer, "Do play something for me!"

"Never!" said Schlozer. "I would not dare."

Then Liszt turned to me and asked me to sing. I also said, "I would not dare." Whereupon he said, "Well, since no one will do anything, I will play myself."

(The Minghettis, von Keudell, and Count Arco, Schlozer's secretary, were the guests.)

How divinely he played! He seemed to be inspired. Certainly the enthusiastic and sympathetic listeners were worthy to be his audience.

"Do you still sing Ma.s.senet?" he said to me. "Do you recollect my dining with you in Paris, and your singing those exquisite songs?"

"Recollect it!" I cried. "How do you think I could ever forget?"

"Will you not sing? I will accompany you," he said. "Have you any of Ma.s.senet's songs?"

"I have nothing with me to-night. I never dreamt of singing," I answered.

Schlozer said: "That is no obstacle. I will send a servant to your house directly to fetch the music." And in a very short time the music was in my hands.

Then Liszt sat down and, turning over the pages, found what he wanted, and I sang. Schlozer was radiantly happy. There was not one disturbing element. Every one was as appreciative as he was himself--those who listened as well as those who performed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NOTE FROM F. LISZT]

Liszt was at his best; I mean that he could not have been better.

Knowing that Count Arco sang, he insisted on hearing him. Arco at first declined, but finally yielded--there was no resisting the arch-charmer.

Liszt played the "_Suoni la tromba_" (Arco's _cheval de bataille_), by heart, of course, singing himself, to help the timid singer, and adding variations on the piano.

Liszt was in such high spirits that we would not have been surprised if he had danced a jig. He threw his long hair back from his forehead, as if to throw care to the winds. Later he spread his large hands over the keyboard in protest and said, "_No more from me_, but we must hear Schlozer before we go." Therefore Schlozer was obliged to play. He can only improvise, as you know. Liszt sat by his side and played a helpful ba.s.s.

Schlozer ordered some champagne, and we all drank one another's healths. It was after one o'clock when we bade our host adieu. Johan and I took Liszt in our carriage and left him at his apartment in the Via Margutta on our way home.

We saw a great deal of him afterward, and he dined with us twice. The first time we asked Grieg, the Norwegian genius, thinking it would please Liszt to meet him. Perhaps this was a mistake. However, it was a most interesting evening. Mrs. Grieg sang charmingly (Grieg's songs, of course); and Liszt, with his hands folded in front of him, was lost in thought--or was he asleep? Let us say he _dozed_--only waking up to clap his hands and cry "Brava!" But it was perfectly wonderful when he read at sight a concerto of Grieg's, in ma.n.u.script, which Grieg had brought with him. Liszt played it off as if he had known it all his life, reading all the orchestra parts. Both these great artists were enchanted with each other, but after a while Liszt became tired of music and asked if we could not have a game of whist. To play a ba.n.a.l game of whist with Liszt seemed a sacrilege, but we played, all the same. I was very _distraite_, seeing Grieg and his wife (who do not play cards) wandering restlessly around the room, and sometimes I put on an ace when a two would have done the deed.

Liszt plays the piano better than he plays whist. I don't know how many times he revoked. Every one pretended not to notice, and we paid up at the finish without a murmur. He was delighted to win four lire and something, and counted out the small change quite conscientiously.

Johan drove him home--a very tired and sleepy Liszt--and only left him at the sill of his door.

I received a very queer letter the day Liszt dined here. I copy it for you. It was from the Princess W----, a lady whose friends.h.i.+p he renounced when he took holy orders.

I hear that you are going to have the Master (_le Maitre_) to dine at your house. I beg of you to see that he does not sit in a draught of air, or that the cigar he will smoke will not be too strong, and the coffee he drinks will be weak, for he cannot sleep after, and please see that he is brought safely to his apartment.

Yours, etc., etc.

All these instructions were carried out to the letter. On another occasion Liszt wrote to me that he would bring some of his songs to try over at five o'clock. I inclose his letter. What a chance, thought I, for me to give pleasure to some of my friends who I knew were longing to see him. Although he had said _entre nous_ in his letter, and I knew that he really wanted to look through the songs alone with me, I could not resist the temptation--though it was such rank disobedience--and said to them: "Liszt is coming to me at five o'clock. If you would like to hear him, and consent to be hidden behind a door, I will invite you." They all accepted with rapture, and were a.s.sembled in the little _salon_ before the time appointed. The door was left open and a large screen placed before it.

Johan fetched Liszt in our carriage, as he always does. I received him and the book of _Lieder_, which he brought with him. (Only Johan and Nina were present.) He opened the book at "_Comment disaient ils?_"--one of his most beautiful songs, which has an exquisite but very difficult accompaniment. He played with fairy fingers, and we went over it several times. I could see the screen swerving and waving about; but Liszt's back was turned, so he could not see it.

After we had finished tea was served, and then he said, "Have you heard my 'Rigoletto'?"

"Yes," I said, "but not by you."

"Well," he said, "I will play it for you. Your piano is better than the one I have. It is a pleasure to play on it."

The screen, now alive with emotion, almost tipped over. After "Rigoletto" he played "_Les soirees de Vienne_," and this time the screen actually did topple over and exposed to view the group of ladies huddled behind it. I shuddered to think how the Master would take this horrible treachery.

He took it better than I expected--in fact, he laughed outright. The ladies came forward and were presented to him, and were delighted. I am sure that Liszt was, too; at any rate, he laughed so much at my ruse and contrition that the tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away with his pocket-handkerchief, which had an embroidered "F.L." in the corner. This he left behind, and I kept it as a souvenir.

Some days after this there was a large dinner given by the German Amba.s.sador (Herr von Keudell) for the Princess Frederick Carl. Liszt and many others, including ourselves, were present. The Amba.s.sador allowed the gentlemen only a short time to smoke; he gave them good but small cigars. I do not know how the great Master liked this, for he is a fervent smoker. However, as _le charbonnier est maitre chez lui_, our host had his way and the music commenced, as he wished, very soon after dinner. Both the Amba.s.sador and his wife are perfect pianists.

They play four-hand pieces on two pianos. On this occasion, to do honor to the famous composer, they grappled with a formidable work by Liszt, called "Mazeppa." (I fancy that Liszt is a little like Rossini, who used to say, "_Jouez pour moi toute autre chose que ma musique_.") Mazeppa's wild scampering over the two keyboards made our hair stand on end, but the Master dozed off in peaceful slumber and only waked up and cried "Bravo!" when Mazeppa had finished careering and the two pianists were wiping their perspiring brows. Liszt begged the Princess to whistle, and opened his book of _Lieder_ at "_Es muss ein wunderbares sein_" (a lovely song) and said, "Can you whistle that?" Yes, she could; and did it very carefully and in a _wunderbares_ manner. Liszt was astonished and delighted.