It poured this morning, and all night I heard the rain beating against the window every time I woke. The clouds are breaking a little now, at three o'clock, so perhaps it has rained itself out, and the President may have the "Queen's weather" to-morrow. Our Loubet invitations are beginning to come—a soirée at the Capitol; great ricevimento, all the statues illuminated with pink lights; a gala at the opera; another great reception at the French Embassy (Quirinal); and the review.
Josephine and I have been dining with the grand duchess at her hotel. We were a small party, and it was pleasant enough. She talks easily about everything, and loves Rome. The evening was not long. We all sat in a semicircle around her sofa after dinner. Every one smoked (but me), and she retired about ten.
We have been talking over plans since we got back. Bessie will start to-morrow night. She is not keen naturally about the Loubet fêtes, and Palma[35] wants her to stay over two or three days with her in the country somewhere near Ancona. She will meet me in Turin, and we will come on together from there. It is still raining—I hope it will stop.
Tuesday, April 26th.
I had no time to write Sunday, as we were going all day. Bessie and I went to church in the morning, and then I left some P. P. C. cards on Cardinals Vannutelli, Mathieu, etc., also a note to the grand duchess to thank her for the photographs of Antonelli which she sent me last night—two very good ones, with a nice little note, saying she thought I would perhaps keep the big one for myself "as a souvenir of old times and new friends."
The Corso looked quite brilliant as we drove through—the bright sun seemed to have completely dried the flags and festoons and the streets were full of people, all gaping and smiling, and in high good-humour. The Spanish Steps were charming, the great middle flight entirely covered with flowers, looking like an enormous bright carpet.
We had some visits after breakfast, and started about three to the Countess Bruschi's, who has an apartment with windows looking directly over to the "Esedra di Termine," where the syndic, Prince Prosper Colonna, was to receive the President. There was such a crowd, and there were so many people going to the same place, that we thought that would be hopeless, so we returned and made our way with difficulty, as the streets were crowded, to the Via Nazionale, where a friend of Josephine's had asked us to come. She established us on a balcony, and there we saw splendidly. The street is rather narrow, and the balcony not high. The crowd was most amusing, perfectly good-natured, even at times when a band of roughs would try to break the lines, pushing through the rows of screaming, struggling women and children, and apparently coming to a hand-to-hand fight with the policemen; but as soon as the soldiers charged into them—which they did repeatedly during the afternoon—they dispersed; nobody was hurt (I never can imagine why not, when the horses all backed down on them), nobody protested violently, and the crowd cheered impartially both sides. These little skirmishes went on the whole afternoon until we heard the Marcia Reale, and saw the escort appearing. A troop of cuirassiers opened the march. The royal carriages with the red Savoie liveries were very handsome—all the uniforms making a great effect—the King and President together, both looking very happy, the King in uniform, the President in plain black with a high hat, returning all the salutations most smilingly. He was enthusiastically received, certainly—there were roars of applause, which became frantic when some of the military bands played the Marseillaise. As soon as the cortège had passed the crowd broke up, quantities of people following the carriage to the Quirinal, where the great square was crowded. There, too, they were so enthusiastic that the President had to appear on the balcony between the King and Queen.
We started out again after dinner, and wanted to see the torch-light procession, but didn't, as our movements were a little complicated. We took Bessie to the station, and waited to see her start. When we came out the procession had passed, but the streets were still brilliantly lighted and very gay, quantities of people about.
Yesterday we had a delightful expedition to Porta d'Anzio and Nettuno—two autos—and some of the party by train. We were really glad to get out of the streets and the crowd of sight-seers. Quantities of people have come from all parts of Italy to see the show, and are standing about all day in compact little groups, gaping at the festoons and decorations. It is frightful to think of the microbes that are flying about.
We started early, at 9.30, went straight out toward Albano, to the foot of the hill, then turned off sharp to the right, taking a most lovely road, chestnut trees on each side, and hedges white and fragrant with hawthorn. As we got near Porta d'Anzio we had a beautiful view of a bright blue summer sea. The first arrivals had ordered breakfast in quite a clean hotel, evidently other people had thought too that it would be pleasant to get out of Rome to-day, as there were several parties in the dining-room, which was large and bright, but no view of the sea.