One P.M.—Took a double Pony Basket Phaeton, Louise and I on the front seat, she driving a grey and bay pony. Drove to Villa Franca where the American fleet is anchored. Saw the old flag once more, which brought home most vividly to my heart and roused the old longing for the dear old spot.
30th. No letters. No news of trunks. The Monotonous sea singing Hush at measured intervals, not one wave even an inch higher than another. This cannot be a real sea, the Mediterranean, or it would sometime change its tone. Yesterday rode through the old Italian part of the City. Houses 6 or 7 stories high. Streets just wide enough for a donkey cart to get through. Never can pass each other. One has to back out.
Tuesday 31. Took our usual walk. Listened to the band in the Public Gardens. This is a poor, barren country. I believe the plates are licked by the inhabitants instead of the dogs. This place is too poor for them. The only good conditioned looking people here are the priests. They are bursting with inward satisfaction and joy. When in Paris last October we heard of a most wonderful pair of earrings that had been presented to Adelina Patti by a Gent who glided under the name of Khalil Bey, worth Millions! When in Paris again in December there was a great stir about the Private Picture Gallery of a very wealthy man who had met with severe and great losses at the gaming table. Our friends tried to obtain admission for us to see them, but through some slip we failed. Upon our arrival in Nice, one day there was great confusion and agitation among the Eager. Servants were standing in corners and evidence of something was very vivid. Finally the mystery was solved. And we learned that a great Prince had arrived from St. Petersburg. A Turk! Who was sharing our fate (the order of things is all reversed in Nice. You commence life there by beginning at the top and working your way down) and taken rooms on the 6th floor, accompanied by 2 servants, one especially to take care of the Pipe. His name is Khalil Bey—about 50 years old—a hard, Chinese, cast-iron face run when the iron was very hot—sinking well into the mould—one eye almost blind—short small feet—he seemed to commence to grow at the feet and grew bigger and wider as he went up.
3rd. He moves in the best "society" over here—has his Box at the Opera—tells frankly his losses at cards—so many million francs—is a man of influence even among a certain class and that far above mediocre. Met him at an evening entertainment. Found him a great admirer of Patti in certain rôles—very good judgment upon musical matters in general—and a professed Gambler.
4th. Rained all day. A lost day to comfort outside and in.
5th. Another day of the same sort. Weary with looking at the sea.
6th. Clearing. Sunshine at intervals.
7th. Mr. Kinney called in afternoon. Conversation related to Americans in Europe. Came to the conclusion that as a general rule none but the class denominated "fast" come to Europe and like it. Mr.—— said he would give any American young gentleman or lady just 18 months in European society to lose all refinement and all moral principle, young ladies in particular. The moral principle cannot be strong when one is laughed at for blushing!
8th. Mr. and Mrs. L—— came over in the evening. Sat two hours. Discussed Europe generally and decided America was the only place for decent people to live in. Death is all over Europe, an epidemic that has no cure. Death of all moral responsibility. Death of ambition in the way of virtue. Death of all comforts of life. The last man that dies will be carried from the card table.
In my own recollection of Nice the two men principally mentioned in my mother's diary, Khalil Bey and Admiral Farragut, stand out strikingly. Khalil Bey was a fabulously rich Turk who spent his life wandering luxuriously over the face of the earth with a huge retinue of retainers nearly as picturesque as he was. He was a big, dark, murderous looking creature, not unattractive in a sinister, strange, and piratical way. He had a wild and lurid record and was especially notorious for his reckless gambling, at which his luck was said to be miraculous. He was an opera enthusiast, having heard it in every city in Europe, and was one of Adelina's admirers. My mother disliked him exceedingly, declaring he was like a big snake. But my mother never had any tolerance for foreign noblemen. There were many of them at Nice and her comments were caustic and often apt. I remember her casual summing up of the Marquis de Talleyrand (the particular friend of Mrs. Stevens, an American woman from Hoboken whom he afterwards married) as "a young man belonging to some goose pond or other!"