A new edition of my "Physical Sciences" was required, so the "Physical Geography" was laid aside for the present. On returning to Rome, we resumed our usual life, and continued to receive our friends in the evening without ceremony. There was generally a merry party round the tea table in a corner of the room. I cannot omit mentioning one of the most charming and intellectual of our friends, Don Michelangelo Gaetani, Duke of Sermoneta, whose brilliant and witty conversation is unrivalled, and for whom I have had a very sincere friendship for many years. I found him lately as charming as ever, notwithstanding the cruel loss of his sight. The last time I ever dined out was at his house at Rome, when I was on my way to Naples in 1867.
John Gibson, the sculptor, the most guileless and amiable of men, was now a dear friend. His style was the purest Grecian, and had some of his works been found among the ruins, multitudes would have come to Rome to admire them. He was now in the height of his fame; yet he was so kind and encouraging to young people that he allowed my girls to go and draw in his studio, and one of my daughters, with a friend, modelled there for some time. His drawings for bas-reliefs were most beautiful. He drew very slowly, but a line once drawn was never changed. He ignored India-rubber or bread-crumbs, so perfect was his knowledge of anatomy, and so decided the character and expression he meant to give.
We had charades one evening in a small theatre in our house, which went off very well There was much beauty at Rome at that time; no one who was there can have forgotten the beautiful and brilliant Sheridans. I recollect Lady Dufferin at the Easter ceremonies at St. Peter's, in her widow's cap, with a large black crape veil thrown over it, creating quite a sensation. With her exquisite features, oval face, and somewhat fantastical head-dress, anything more lovely could not be conceived; and the Roman people crowded round her in undisguised admiration of "la bella monaca Inglese." Her charm of manner and her brilliant conversation will never be forgotten by those who knew her. To my mind, Mrs. Norton was the most beautiful of the three sisters. Hers is a grand countenance, such as artists love to study. Gibson, whom I asked, after his return from England, which he had revisited after twenty-seven years' absence, what he thought of Englishwomen, replied, he had seen many handsome women, but no such sculptural beauty as Mrs. Norton's. I might add the Marchioness of Waterford, whose bust at Macdonald's I took at first for an ideal head, till I recognised the likeness.
Lady Davy used to live a great deal at Rome, and took an active part in society. She talked a great deal, and talked well when she spoke English, but like many of us had more pretension with regard to the things she could not do well than to those she really could. She was a Latin scholar, and as far as reading and knowing the literature of modern languages went she was very accomplished, but unfortunately, she fancied she spoke them perfectly, and was never happier than when she had people of different nations dining with her, each of whom she addressed in his own language. Many amusing mistakes of hers in speaking Italian were current in both Roman and English circles.
A few months were very pleasantly spent one summer at Perugia, where there is so much that is interesting to be seen. The neighbouring country is very beautiful, and the city being on the top of a hill is very cool during the hot weather. We had an apartment in the Casa Oddi-Baglioni—a name well known in Italian history—and I recollect spending some very pleasant days with the Conte Oddi-Baglioni, at a villa called Colle del Cardinale, some ten or twelve miles from the town. The house was large and handsomely decorated, with a profusion of the finest Chinese vases. On our toilet tables were placed perfumes, scented soap, and very elaborately embroidered nightdresses were laid out for use. I remember especially admiring the basins, jugs, &c., which were all of the finest japan enamel. There was a subterranean apartment where we dined, which was delightfully cool and pleasant, and at a large and profusely served dinner-table, while we and the guests with the owner of the house dined at the upper end, at the lower end and below the salt there were the superintendent of the Count's farms, a house decorator and others of that rank. It is not the only instance we met with of this very ancient custom. The first time Somerville and I came to Italy, years before this, while dining at a very noble house, the wetnurse took her place, as a matter of course, at the foot of the dinner-table.
On the morning after our arrival and at a very early hour there was a very fine eclipse of the sun, though not total at Perugia or the neighbourhood; the chill and unnatural gloom were very striking.
Perugia is one of the places in which the ancient athletic game of pallone is played with spirit. It is so graceful when well played that I wonder our active young men have not adopted it. A large leather ball filled with condensed air is struck and returned again by the opponent with the whole force of their right arms, covered to the elbow with a spiked wooden case. The promptness and activity required to keep up the ball is very great, and the impetus with which it strikes is such, that the boxes for spectators in the amphitheatres dedicated to this game are protected by strong netting. It is a very complicated game, and, I am told, somewhat resembles tennis.