*****
A few evenings ago we were invited to a party at the Danish consul’s. Met a number of interesting people, but the lion of the evening was Ibsen, the great dramatic writer. He is a little short man with a big head, a great shock of white hair, and twinkling eyes. I talked with him some in English. Famous as his dramas are, I knew little about them, and our few minutes’ talk was on indifferent subjects, not worth remembering or jotting down; only he talked like a very genial, open-hearted man.
The next day there was an afternoon reception at our own home, and among our guests was Hugh Conway, the author of “Called Back.” He went with me to a little corner in the dining-room, where we had a chat about his famous story, his own past, and his future hopes. He had been an auctioneer in England, and on trying his hand at stories was astonished to find himself suddenly famous. He was simple, kind and communicative as a child. Shortly his wife joined us, agreeable as himself, and they were promising much to themselves from another season, which they intended spending in Rome. And we were going to be friends. He told me of their children in England. We emptied a glass to the children’s health, and the next day they started for Nice. He took a cold on the way, and a little later came the sad news that the lovable man was dead.
Almost every day, afternoon or evening, we go to receptions. Half the Americans living here give them, to say nothing of those given by the English, French and other foreign residents whom one happens to know. One meets a sprinkling of Italians at all of them, but this is by no means Roman society. That is something that few foreigners know very much about. The receptions are all about alike, though differing in interest of course, according to the personality of the entertainers. People come to them and stand up and gossip a little; some pretty girls pour tea, and occasionally there is a song by some visiting celebrity. Getting a “celebrity” to be at one’s receptions and parties, by the way, is a part of a society woman’s bounden duty in Rome. What lions have we not met at these delightful afternoon and evening affairs--Liszt, Crawford, Ibsen, Rogers, Fargus, Bonaparte, Houghton, the Trollopes, Wallace, and how many others less great. One meets most of them just long enough for a cup of tea together, or a glass of wine, a hand shake, a few words, and then “au revoir.” Yet the memory of it all remains.
Rome is always full of great people and they all seem to like to be lionized. Then there are the distinguished artists of many countries who live here by the hundred, and who honor the hostess and sometimes themselves, by dropping in at these receptions for a stand-up cup of tea and a general hand shake.
We have attended three, four, even half a dozen receptions the same day. If ever I go into business in Rome it will be to sell tea to people who give receptions. A man of war could float in the tea poured out here by pretty girls every afternoon.
Some of the artists also, like Ezekiel, the sculptor, give unique little receptions in their picturesque studios. These are almost the best of all.
*****
Had an interesting letter from General Sherman yesterday.
“St. Louis, Mo., Nov. 14, 1884.
“Dear Byers:--I was very glad to receive your letter of October 28, from Rome, telling us that you are now fairly established in the Eternal City. Somehow that renowned city did not make the impression on me that its fame warranted, but I was told that it grew upon every man who dwelt there long enough. I hope you will experience that result, and realize not only contentment, but gather much material for future literary work, because I fear your diplomatic career is drawing to a close. It now seems almost certain that all the little petty causes of discontent and opposition inside the Republican party have united with the Democrats and elected Cleveland President. When installed next spring he will be a stronger man that he has credit for, if he can resist the pressure sure to be brought on him, and consulships will be in great demand, for distance lends enchantment, and exaggerates the value of such offices. I have no fear of violence, and believe that Cleveland will not allow the solid South to dictate to him. If he does, and the old Rebels show the cloven foot, the reaction four years hence will be overwhelming.
“We are all very well in St. Louis, and the autumn has been beautiful, crops good and bountiful, general business dull by reason of apprehended change of tariff, but the country growing steadily all the time. My daughter Rachel is in Maine on a visit to the Blaines, at this critical period. Mrs. Sherman is at Philadelphia on a short visit to our daughter Elly, so that the family here is small. I expect to make a short visit to New York and Washington about Christmas, with which exception I propose to remain quiet. Time, with me, glides along smoothly and I am amply convinced that I was wise in retiring just when I did. I don’t believe the Democrats will materially hurt the army, but they will make Sheridan’s place uncomfortable. I visited Des Moines in September and found it a prosperous, fine city. I should suppose you might make it your home, devote your time to literature, and give general supervision to your farm. I’m afraid, however, that you have been so long abroad that it will be hard to break yourself and family into the habits of Iowa farmers. Give to Mrs. Byers and son the assurance of our best love.
“Your friend,
W. T. Sherman.”