Italian Days and Ways

by Anne Hollingsworth Wharton

Friday, April 15th.

Mrs. Coxe, with whom we made the excursion to Pæstum, called to see us yesterday morning. We came near losing her visit altogether in this curious, rambling pension, where the drawing-rooms are on the third floor, the dining-room on the fourth, and the bedrooms are scattered over all of the floors. The bell-boy escorted our visitor, in truly foreign fashion, to Zelphine's bedroom on the fourth piano, and as she happened to be in the salon, and there was no boy or bell in sight, Mrs. Coxe set forth on a voyage of discovery, exploring the dining-room and then going down to the smoking-rooms and library until she found the salon, in which we were comfortably seated enjoying our morning mail.

She laughed heartily over our detached way of living, but said she was determined to find us even if she followed us to the cellar, as she was the bearer of an invitation to join a party to be conducted by Monsignor A. through some of the rooms of the Vatican not usually open to visitors. Mrs. Coxe had brought a letter to this gentleman from her parish priest, which was the reason for this courteous invitation in which we were so generously included.

We met the Monsignor and his party near the steps leading to the Sistine Chapel, and were taken through the rooms in which the finest tapestries are kept—immense pieces representing Scripture scenes. These tapestries, which are beautiful, with all the delicacy of painting and the richness of needlework, are only used behind the altar when the Pope celebrates. Monsignor A. told us that the Holy Father never celebrates before a painting, always before tapestry. In another room we saw a man at work upon a large altar-piece, weaving in the colors by hand—a slow process, as you may imagine, but they count years here as we count days.

We were allowed to enter the grand banquet-hall hung with tapestries, in which preparations were being made for a great dinner; handsome glass and plate were on the buffet, looking very secular for il Vaticano. We saw the rooms of one of the old popes, and Monsignor A. showed us the low, broad steps over which the popes used to ride on their white mules from one part of the Vatican to the other. We did not wonder that they were glad to ride through this vast building, as we were tired after we had seen only a small part of it and a few of the eleven thousand rooms. Fancy the extent of this palace, with its museums, libraries, chapels, and suites of apartments, of which we gained some idea from the inner court and galleries.

Monsignor A. proved to be a genial old gentleman who enlivened his discourse with occasional anecdotes, which, delicious as they were in his broken English, would lose something of their flavor if I should undertake to repeat them in less picturesque language. He took us out on the balcony overlooking the piazza, from which the Pope used to give his blessing to the populace on Easter Sunday. The Monsignor said, with some sadness, that this custom belonged to the old régime. We could imagine what the great piazza must have been, filled with devout kneeling figures, and, like the good father, we regretted the passing of this impressive ceremony.

As we were going through one of the large audience-halls, an American lady drew Mrs. Coxe and me aside.

"What shall we do about tipping?" she whispered. "These men," pointing to some attendants, "have been opening doors for us ever since we started. We must fee them, and yet how can we do it without attracting the attention of the Monsignor? Do you think there will be an opportunity to give them something?"

"If there is not," said Mrs. Coxe, promptly, "it will be the first time such a thing ever happened in Italy! I, for one, am quite willing to take my chances on it."

A few minutes later the Monsignor signified that we had completed our tour with him. He courteously hoped that we had been repaid for the fatigue of the many steps we had taken. Then, motioning toward the attendants, he said that we might give them a few soldi for their trouble, adding, simply and naturally, as if the words cost him no effort: