“Priests and prophets of the ages,
Vestals, augurs, pontiffs, mages,
Brazen-belted, scarlet-shrouded,
All their altars incense-clouded,
Roman wealth of aeons massing
Now in golden pageant passing.”
The people threw flowers and confetti and everything else they could lay their hands on. Between certain hours there was complete license, and a mask could hit or kiss or be as wild as he pleased. (You know, dear, there is a certain kind of kissing I do not disapprove of.)
Yesterday, too, was gay with crowds of people in the streets, for it was the King’s birthday, and I was awakened by the music of marching bands, in time to see from my window the Persian Ambassador starting to call on the King at the Quirinal. The gala carriages made a fine show with their caparisoned horses, the three liveried footmen behind and bewigged coachman stuck up in front. This important Embassy had traveled all the way from Persia to tell the King that a new Shah had come to the throne, a bit of news we had learned by telegraph months ago,—but such are the ways of monarchs. I wonder when the Ambassador will arrive from America to announce the accession of the new Administration! The evening found me dining at the Foreign Office in honor of His Majesty’s birthday. It was a very splendid and stately affair, the diplomats and officials all in uniforms of gold lace, cocked hats, with swords and fine feathers, my simple, unadorned black coat being the only one at the table. (However, the servants were dressed like me, though to be sure, even some of them were decorated!) It was a dinner of fifty, long and ceremonious, and afterwards we all stood about while I watched the Greek and Turk dodging each other, and taking turns in talking excitably to their fellow guests. Tomorrow they will probably be at each other’s throats.
The Ambassadorial family has just left, with a good many people to see them off, chiefly officials. I put some flowers in their compartment, as I did when my darling Polly left Rome. I had hoped to be able to leave with them, but, as I wrote you, I must wait until a new Ambassador, or his Secretary, arrives before I can turn over the affairs and leave. Oh, Polly, I am so sorry for this further delay. You know how disappointed I am, and you will be patient with me, won’t you, dear?