The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 Part 21

We went to see the gifts, which are exposed in many rooms on the ground floor of the Vatican. There was an enormous quant.i.ty of things of every description, useful, ornamental, and superfluous. The windmills, bells, every sort of vehicle, rowboats, sailboats, and every modern invention had been put out in the Vatican gardens.

You can have no idea of the incredible amount of slippers sent (thousands of them); church _vetements_ by the hundreds, embroidered by millions of women who must have worked themselves blind; the most exquisite articles of needlework, incrusted with pearls and precious stones which have probably cost a mint of money.

The Princess del Drago's gift was a large diamond cross with an enormous emerald in the center, an heirloom from her mother, the Queen of Spain. There were many other private gifts which were equally valuable. Almost a s.h.i.+p-load of canned fruits and vegetables sent from America; these were arranged in a gigantic pyramid. Just to look at them made my mouth water and me homesick.

Ridiculous objects from _naf_ donors, such as babies' socks and jackets, and silver things for a lady's toilet-table, and other equally inappropriate things, must have surprised the Pope when he saw them. I have not mentioned the millions of francs the Pope received in money; he can easily dispose of that; and he intends, I believe, to make presents to every church in Italy of the different objects which can be useful. But what can he do with the babies' socks?

On last Thursday the Pope said ma.s.s in St. Peter's. It was the great event of the year.

As we are accredited to the Quirinal, of course I never can have the opportunity to be received by his Holiness; therefore I was very glad when the monsignore who is still _Dantefying_ us offered to give me a _carte d'entree_.

I was obliged to be at St. Peter's at a very early hour, and succeeded, owing to having a "friend at court" (the Swedish chamberlain to the Pope, Marquis de Lagergren), in getting an excellent place where I had a good view of the Pope and the whole ceremony. Ladies are dressed entirely in black, with black veils instead of hats, on these occasions.

There was a great deal of noise in the church--much sc.r.a.ping of chairs, rather loud talking, people being shown to their seats, and, above all other noises, _the organ_.

I cannot honestly say that the music was beautiful. With the exception of the days when the best singers of the Pope's choir sing, the music in St. Peter's is not good. The organ is as antiquated as the organist, who plays with all the stops pulled out.

The center of the church was filled with wooden benches and chairs. The altar was brilliantly lighted with hundreds of wax candles; the columns around it were hung with tawdry red damask curtains, which, in my opinion, rather took from the dignity of this magnificent church.

The Swiss Guards ushered people to their seats. They looked very picturesque in their costumes of bright red and yellow, slashed sleeves, and bra.s.s helmets.

In due time the serious and somber chamberlains, in their black satin and velvet costumes, appeared; next came the bishops, in their purple robes; and directly preceding his Holiness the Pope were the cardinals, in red. Then came the twelve men carrying the gold pontifical chair in which the Pope was seated; they walked very solemnly and slowly.

Every one dropped on his knees, and the Pope raised his thin white hand to bless the kneeling crowd.

He mounted the steps of the high altar and began reading ma.s.s. His voice was very feeble and scarcely audible.

It was very impressive. It would be impossible to give you an idea of the intense solemnity of this scene, especially for me, as I have no talent for description. Women wept and waved their wet handkerchiefs; the sterner s.e.x would have done the same, I dare say, if they had not been ashamed to show so much emotion.

_March 10, 1888_.

The Emperor Wilhelm of Germany died yesterday. Though he was so very old, the news of his death was unexpected and cast a gloom over Rome.

Of course, all gaieties are ended, and court mourning ordered for three weeks. King Umberto left directly for Genoa to meet the new Emperor, who started from San Remo on his way to Berlin. The dinner for King Umberto's birthday, which was to have been on the 14th, has been _decommande_.

The Prince of Naples has already left for Berlin to represent the King at the Emperor's funeral--his first official act since he has become of age.

_May 1, 1888._

My dear Aunt,--My letters are very uninteresting. I cannot help it.

There is nothing going on in society. In fact, many of the Italians have left Rome, and the colleagues are resting on their oars--those who have any to rest on. I am resting on my "Pinafore" oars. How lucky we had it when we did!

Taking advantage of this moment of inactivity, the Roman ladies arranged a charity performance, for which Marquise Del Grillo (Madame Ristori) promised to give her services. She chose the famous play "Marie Antoinette," which is supposed to be one of her best. The tickets were to be procured only from the ladies of the committee (of which I was one), and, though they cost a fabulous price, the theater was crammed to suffocation.

Madame Ristori's acting was, of course, perfect, her voice musical, her Italian delicious, and her gestures were faultless. If one might dare criticize such an artist, one could say that her movements might have been a little more queenly, but a queen's grace and dignity must be very difficult to acquire from sheer imagination. Also her dress was far from what it ought to have been. I am sure no French dressmaker had the making of _that_ gown. In the first act Marie Antoinette, in the _apotheose_ of her glory, wore voluminous skirts and crinoline, according to the famous picture. Madame Ristori wore a crinoline, to be sure; but her dress was too short in front and showed her low-heeled shoes of white satin, and when she moved about her gown of heavy brocade swayed from side to side like a pendulum.

One recognized the great artist in the scene in the prison, where she bade the king and her children adieu. This was very touching, and there was not a dry eye in the audience. I know that _I_ sniffed and wept and blew my nose, and was quite ashamed of showing my feelings so explosively.

I went to see her on her reception-day (the next Friday) and found her in her every-day surroundings, her pretty daughter hovering about with teacups and cakes, everything looking very home-like and prosaic, and Marie Antoinette eating sandwiches with a healthy appet.i.te and talking of the latest gossip. I could hardly believe that I had shed so many tears over her sad fate a few nights ago.

The sad news of the death of Emperor Frederick came day before yesterday from San Remo. Every one had been expecting his death for months. The Italians loved him, and mourn him as if he had been their own. There is court mourning for three weeks.

MONZA, _October 1, 1888_.

My dear Aunt,--You ought to have a map of Europe continually under your eyes, and little pins to stick in the places where we last were. s.p.a.ce and distance are nothing to your "wandering jew(el)s." Going from Italy to Denmark and back again twice a year, we are obliged to traverse the whole of Europe, and, as "all roads lead to Rome," we can choose the one we like best.

Wherever we go we are enigmas to our fellow-travelers, who can never decide what nation we belong to. Johan talks Danish to me; we talk French to the governess, German to the valet, Italian to my maid, and English alternately. I think we would have puzzled the builders of the tower of Babel at that confusing moment when they all burst forth in unknown tongues.

ROME, _October 15, 1888_.

My dear Aunt,--We are having a series of entertainments in honor of the new Kaiser. This is his first official visit since he has become Emperor. He arrived here on the 11th at four o'clock.

We were invited by M. and Mme. Huffer to see the _entree_. They being Germans, their decorations surpa.s.sed all others. Carpets out of every window, flags flying, and the German coat of arms placed in every available spot on their beautiful palace in the Via n.a.z.ionale. The King, accompanied by the Prince of Naples, followed by the Duke of Genoa, Duc d'Aosta, M. Crispi, Marquis Gravina, and Marquis Guiccioli, and other notabilities, drove to the station through a double line of troops on both sides of the street.

The usually dirty waiting-room in the station was hung with tapestries taken from the Quirinal and the splendid Louis XV. furniture taken from the beautiful Palace of Caserta.

The train which preceded the Emperor's, decked out with garlands and flags, came in sight, the traditional red carpet was laid down, the final orders shouted, and the Imperial train appeared. The soldiers presented arms, and the military bands struck up the German national hymn. The King wore the uniform of a general. He advanced to meet his Imperial guest. They embraced and kissed each other on both cheeks, then they presented the princes and the different members of their suites.

The Emperor was in the red uniform of the Hussars and looked very young and handsome.

In the first _berline_ (as they call the demi-gala blue landaus) were the Emperor and the King; in the second were the Prince of Naples and Prince Henry of Prussia (the Emperor's brother); in the third the Duc d'Aosta and the Duke of Genoa; in the fourth, Count Herbert Bismarck and the German Amba.s.sador (Count Solms). The other carriages, of which there must have been ten, contained the military and civil members of both the sovereigns.

There was a great demonstration in front of the Quirinal Palace. The Emperor and the King came out on the balcony amid screams of "_Eh!

viva!_" One old man--a German, I suppose--who was covered with medals shouted at the top of his lungs. "_Hoch!_" hoping to make a sensation, but the Emperor made no sign that he heard it.

The next day (Friday), as had been arranged long beforehand, the Emperor made his visit to the Pope; the carriage from the Quirinal brought him to the residence of Herr von Schlozer (the German Minister to the Vatican), where the Emperor lunched and changed his uniform.

Schlozer's account of the luncheon was very amusing. His household was apparently not arranged for the reception of emperors. He and his secretary were in great straits to provide the proper luxuries for their august guest. Schlozer possessed nothing so frivolous as a mirror, therefore he sent to borrow ours. We sent him the one we thought best suited to the occasion. It was so different from Schlozer's modest belongings that the Emperor's quick eye guessed instantly that it was a stranger, and said, "Where did this come from?"

I give you Herr von Schlozer's account in his own language.

"I had no extra toilet things to put into the Emperor's room, but, fortunately, I had bought a cake of soap in Berlin; this I put on a piece of marble I had picked up in the Forum, which I thought would do for a soap-dish. The Emperor went into the adjoining room to change his uniform, and suddenly appeared in the doorway, holding out his wet hands, and said, '_Mein liebe_ Schlozer, can't you give me a towel?'

_Donnerwetter!_ said Schlozer, that was the one thing that I had forgotten."

The luncheon was (excepting the famous wines on which he prides himself) of the simplest kind of Italian repasts, of which macaroni, frittura mista, and cutlets with saffron (_a la Milanais_) formed the chief feature. The Emperor was in the best of spirits and enjoyed it all, interlarded as it was with Schlozer's unique remarks.

The Emperor's own horses and carriages and _piqueurs_ (brought expressly from Berlin for this one visit to the Pope) were waiting before the German Legation to convey his Majesty and Herr von Schlozer to the Vatican. The whole route through which they drove was lined with a double row of the national troops to the very steps of the Vatican.

Every window was filled with people anxious to catch a glimpse of the handsome and youthful Emperor as he pa.s.sed by in his open victoria; Prince Henry and Count Bismarck followed in another of the Emperor's carriages.

At the early hour of half past nine the _haute societe_, the Ministers, the Senators and Deputies--in fact, _all Rome_--were summoned to meet the Emperor at the Campidoglia. It was to be lighted for the first time with electricity--a great event. People were to meet in the statue-gallery. After all were a.s.sembled, the King, the Queen, and the Emperor entered, followed by the princes and their different suites.

The Emperor was dressed in the uniform of the _garde de corps_ (all white) with a silver breastplate and silver helmet. He was an apparition! and did not look unlike one of the statues. Or was he a Lohengrin who had come in a swan-drawn skiff down the Tiber to save some Italian Elsa?

There were some presentations made. I, for one, was presented to his Imperial Majesty, and was charmed with his graciousness. We talked English, which I think rather pleased him, for he made some facetious remarks on things and people and actually laughed.