“I don’t know my own people,” he kept saying; “this is not my London.” A few nights later Colonel Hunter Weston dined with us. Talking of the demonstration, he agreed with what J. had said, adding, “Perhaps you do not realize how much cause there is for rejoicing!”
[To my Mother.]
Rome, April 10, 1900. This will be, I believe, my last Eastertide in Rome. It is a restless time, floods and floods of people from home. Other kinds of floods too; the rainy season has been unspeakable. Great fear for the crops. The Tiber is higher than I ever saw it. J. says if it were not for the embankment, people would be rowing about in the Piazza del Popolo as he once saw them when the Tiber overflowed. Life is full and interesting, with more delightful strangers in town than we can do justice to. The Thomas Bailey Aldriches are here. I had one good talk with him; he is as enchanting as ever, though not looking very strong. Mrs. Aldrich came to my reception, bringing one of the twins with her. I met the Vernon Harcourts at lunch on Sunday at the Embassy. His talk about the political situation was illuminating. She asked about you and wished to be remembered.
May 30, 1900. J. sent off the drawings of General Wauchope, Marquis of Winchester and Duke of Cambridge in the British Embassy bag to Mrs. Hope. Villegas and the Signora called to take farewell. They are off for Seville day after to-morrow. Only two months more of our Roman palace; we begin to feel the tug of parting. The Easter lilies are all in bloom. Miss Kemp buys plants from the terrace for four hundred and twenty-one francs. This, with one hundred and fifty from Mr. Bagot, for the roses, is quite a sum to pull off our terrace.
May 31, 1900. J. wrote careful explanatory letters to Mrs. Hope (Lady Lansdowne’s secretary) and to Hamilton Aïdé about the drawings. A long visit to Miss Leigh Smith, who showed me a London paper with a report of your having spoken at some public meeting for the English. Miss L. S. pleased you should have come out strong for her people, I more pleased to learn you were stirring about and making speeches on your eighty-first birthday.
June 2, 1900. The plants sold Miss Kemp have been taken downstairs. It has been a dreadful day to me. The lovely things were ruthlessly torn from their home and carried down the long stairs—it has made me almost ill. Six tall spirea in full bloom, four boxes of pink ivy geranium, two large azaleas, two giant honeysuckles (one J. dug up at the Villa Madama in the face of an angry bull), four wistaria, thirty-six chrysanthemums, two rhododendrons, nine coral geraniums.
June 4, 1900. Saw Miss Kemp and our lovely plants in their new home. Terrace pulled together but much reduced; half its front teeth are missing. To see de Musset’s “Lorenzacchio”, with Zacconi. A slow dragging drama in five acts with great poetic quality but crudely put together. Only a first-rate actor could have made it “go” at all. Visit to the studio from Miss Wauchope, the sister of the General, and her friend Miss Tesiger, daughter of the Lord Chancellor. Miss Wauchope spoke in the warmest way of J.’s portrait of her brother. Said it was inspired and far the best thing ever made of him. Mr. Leech thought he might like to buy the remaining honeysuckles, but found them too big. Decide to give Miss Kemp the seventeen ivies, as they are hardly saleable in pots, but will do finely in the ground, and their future will be assured in a good garden. Have combined with Ignazio, our gardener, to take care of Miss K.’s garden for thirty francs a month. Quite a comfort; the dear plants will be well cared for by him, who more than any one else helped J. create our paradise. Sent to the auction room much roba,—better to sell it for a few francs than to pay for packing and shipping.
June 5, 1900. The de Stirums want plants from the terrace for thirty-four francs, Jessie Cochrane for one hundred; this brings up the plant sales to six hundred and seventy francs. The gardenias are astonishing, finer than ever before. J. has given the two big honeysuckles and the passion flower to Boni to set out in the Roman Forum. This is consoling.
June 9, 1900. Last evening at eight o’clock came a messenger from the Marchese Guiccioli, chamberlain of the Queen, with the news that the royal lady would come to the studio the next day at six in the afternoon. Great excitement in casa Elliott. Early in the morning we raided the Villegas villa for flowers and borrowed Lorenzo, their handy man, to come help put the studio to rights. I dreamed of a crimson carpet hired for the event and palms to redeem the grim entrance in the rear of the old Palazzo Giraud-Torlonia, but J. said:
“No. She is quite accustomed to going to artists’ studios and finding them as they are.”