Julia Ward Howe - Richards Laura E. (бесплатная регистрация книга TXT) 📗

This was a season of extraordinary interest to one who had always loved Italy and pleaded for a generous policy toward her. Early in January it became known that King Victor Emanuel was dying. At the Vatican his life-long adversary Pius IX was wasting away with a mortal disease. It was a time of suspense. The two had fought a long and obstinate duel: which of them, people asked, would yield first to the conqueror on the pale horse? There were those among the "Blacks" of Rome who would have denied the last sacrament to the dying King. "No!" said Pio Nono; "he has always been a good Catholic; he shall not die without the sacrament!" On the 9th of January the King died, and "the ransomed land mourned its sovereign as with one heart."[81]

"January 12. Have just been to see the new King [Umberto I] review the troops, and receive the oath of allegiance from the army. The King's horse was a fine light sorrel—he in full uniform, with light blue trousers. In Piazza del Independenza. We at the American Consulate. Much acclamation and waving of handkerchiefs. Went at 5 in the afternoon to see the dead King lying in state. His body was shown set on an inclined plane, the foreshortening disfigured his poor face dreadfully, making his heavy moustache to look as if it were his eyebrows. Behind him a beautiful ermine canopy reached nearly to the ceiling—below him the crown and sceptre on a cushion. Castellani's beautiful gold crown is to be buried with him."

She says of the funeral:—

"The monarch's remains were borne in a crimson coach of state, drawn by six horses. His own favorite war-horse followed, veiled in crape, the stirrups holding the King's boots and spurs, turned backward. Nobles and servants of great houses in brilliant costumes, bareheaded, carrying in their hands lighted torches of wax.... As the cortege swept by, I dropped my tribute of flowers.[82]..."

"January 19. To Parliament, to see the mutual taking of oaths between the new King and the Parliament. Had difficulty in getting in. Sat on carpeted stair near Mrs. Carson. Queen came at two in the afternoon. Sat in a loggia ornamented with red velvet and gold. Her entrance much applauded. With her the little Prince of Naples,[83] her son; the Queen of Portugal, her sister-in-law; and Prince of Portugal, son of the latter. The King entered soon after two—he took the oath standing bareheaded, then signed some record of it. The oath was then administered to Prince Amadeo and Prince de Carignan, then in alphabetical order to the Senate and afterwards to the Deputies."

A month later, Pio Nono laid down the burden of his years. She says of this:—

"Pope Pius IX had reigned too long to be deeply mourned by his spiritual subjects, one of whom remarked in answer to condolence, 'I should think he had lived long enough!'"

The winter passed swift as a dream, though not without anxieties. Roman fever was then the bane of American travellers, and while she herself suffered only from a slight indisposition, Maud was seriously ill. There was no time for her Journal, but some of the impressions of that memorable season are recorded in verse.

Sea, sky, and moon-crowned mountain, one fair world,

Past, Present, Future, one Eternity.

Divine and human and informing soul,

The mystic Trine thought never can resolve.

One of the great pleasures of this Roman visit was the presence of her nephew Francis Marion Crawford. He was then twenty-three years old, and extremely handsome; some people thought him like the famous bas-relief of Antinous at the Villa Albano. The most genial and companionable of men, he devoted himself to his aunt and was her guide to the trattoria where Goethe used to dine, to Tasso's Oak, to the innumerable haunts dedicated to the poets of every age, who have left their impress on the Eternal City.

Our mother always loved acting. Her nearest approach to a professional appearance took place this winter. Madame Ristori was in Rome, and had promised to read at an entertainment in aid of some charity. She chose for her selection the scene from "Maria Stuart" where the unhappy Queen of Scots meets Elizabeth and after a fierce altercation triumphs over her. At the last moment the lady who was to impersonate Elizabeth fell ill. What was to be done? Some one suggested, "Mrs. Howe!" The "Reminiscences" tell how she was "pressed into the service," and how the last rehearsal was held while the musical part of the entertainment was going on. "Madame Ristori made me repeat my part several times, insisting that my manner was too reserved and would make hers appear extravagant. I did my best to conform to her wishes, and the reading was duly applauded."[84]

Another performance was arranged in which Madame Ristori gave the sleep-walking scene from "Macbeth." The question arose as to who should take the part of the attendant.

"Why not your sister?" said Ristori to Mrs. Terry. "No one could do it better!"

In the spring, the travellers made a short tour in southern Italy. One memory of it is given in the following verses:—

NEAR AMALFI

Hurry, hurry, little town,

With thy labor up and down.

Clang the forge and roll the wheels,

Spring the shuttle, twirl the reels.

Hunger comes.

Every woman with her hand

Shares the labor of the land;

Every child the burthen bears,

And the soil of labor wears.

Hunger comes.

In the shops of wine and oil

For the scanty house of toil;

Give just measure, housewife grave,

Thrifty shouldst thou be, and brave.

Hunger comes.

Only here the blind man lags,

Here the cripple, clothed with rags.

Such a motley Lazarus

Shakes his piteous cap at us.

Hunger comes.

Oh! could Jesus pass this way

Ye should have no need to pray.

He would go on foot to see

All your depths of misery.

Succor comes.

He would smooth your frowzled hair,

He would lay your ulcers bare,

He would heal as only can

Soul of God in heart of man.

Jesus comes.

Ah! my Jesus! still thy breath

Thrills the world untouched of death.

Thy dear doctrine showeth me