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November 1st, 1910 AD (search for this): chapter 1
Prefatory note these reminiscences were put together, rather hastily, in my mother's eighty-first year, and were drawn almost entirely from memory. She felt at the time that she had in all probability nearly reached the limit of her earthly life: yet eleven years still remained to her, years of as full mental activity, as deep and wide and varied interests, as any that preceded them. The story of those years will be told in due time, when the full tale of work and thought and love that made up her life shall be completed: meantime it is believed that a new issue of this volume may at this time be acceptable to many. L. E. R. November 1, 1910.
1851 AD (search for this): chapter 10
— We are met in the clime where the wild flowers abound, and the closing ones,— To the halo that circles our Washington's head Let us pour a libation the gods never knew. Among many toasts, my sister Annie proposed this one, Washington's clay in Crawford's hand, which was appropriate, as Thomas Crawford was known at the time to be engaged in modeling the equestrian statue of Washington which crowns his Richmond monument. My Roman holiday came to an end in the summer of the year 1851, and my return to my home and friends became imperative. As the time of my departure approached, I felt how deeply the subtle fascination of Roman life had entered into my very being. Pain, amounting almost to anguish, seized me at the thought that I might never again behold those ancient monuments, those stately churches, or take part in the society which had charmed me principally through its unlikeness to any that I had known elsewhere. I have indeed seen Rome and its wonders more than
1850 AD (search for this): chapter 10
ne day in making a small purchase at a shop, when the proprietor leaned across the counter and asked, almost in a whisper, for the loan of a Bible. He had heard of the book, he said, and wished very much to see a copy of it. Our charge d'affaires, Mr. Cass, mentioned to me the fact that an entire edition of Deodati's Italian translation of the New Testament had recently been seized and burned by order of the papal government. But to return to matters purely personal. As the Christmas of 1850 drew near, my sister L., ever intent on hospitality, determined to have a party and a Christmas tree at Villa Negroni. This last was then a novelty unheard of in Rome. I was to dine with her, and had offered to furnish the music for an informal dance. On Christmas Eve I went with a party of friends to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, where the Pope, according to the custom of those days, was to appear in state, bearing in his arms the cradle supposed to be that of the infant Jesus, wh
1848 AD (search for this): chapter 10
of mine, I am constrained to blush at their insufficiency. I write as if I had forgotten the wonderful series of events which had come to pass between my first visit to Rome and this second tarrying within its walls. In the interval, the days of 1848 had come and gone. France had dismissed her citizen king, and had established a republic in place of the monarchy. The Pope of Rome, for centuries the representative and upholder of absolute rule, had stood before the world as the head of the Chom. A new and glorious confederacy of states seemed to be promised in the near future. The tyrannies of the earth were surely about to meet their doom. My own dear eldest son was given to me in the spring of this terrible and splendid year of 1848. When his father wrote Dieudonne under the boy's name in the family Bible, he added to the welcome record the new device, Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite. The first Napoleon had overthrown rulers and dynasties. A greater power than his now came u
October (search for this): chapter 10
response he would have said to himself, I have a servant. I made him wait for his food until he was obliged to say, I have a master. I thought of my own dear nurslings and shook my head. Learning that Mr. Crawford was a sculptor, he said, I, too, in my youth desired to exercise that art, and modeled a bust, in which I made concave the muscle which should have been convex. A friend recommended to me the study of anatomy, and following it I became a physician. We reached Rome late in October. A comfortable apartment was found for me in the street named Capo le Case. A donkey brought my winter's supply of firewood, and I made haste to hire a grand piano. The artist Edward Freeman occupied the suite of rooms above my own. In the apartment below, Mrs. David Dudley Field and her children were settled for the winter. Our little colony was very harmonious. When Mrs. Field entertained company, she was wont to borrow my large lamp; when I received, she lent me her teacups. Mrs.
Poland (search for this): chapter 10
the spring of this terrible and splendid year of 1848. When his father wrote Dieudonne under the boy's name in the family Bible, he added to the welcome record the new device, Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite. The first Napoleon had overthrown rulers and dynasties. A greater power than his now came upon the stage,—the power of individual conviction backed by popular enthusiasm. My husband, who had fought for Greek freedom in his youth, who had risked and suffered imprisonment in behalf of Poland in his early manhood, and who had devoted his mature life to the service of humanity, welcomed the new state of things with all the enthusiasm of his generous nature. To him, as to many, the final emancipation and unification of the human race, the millennium of universal peace and good-will, seemed near at hand. Alas! the great promise brought only a greater failure. The time for its fulfillment had not yet arrived. Freedom could not be attained by striking an attitude, nor secured by t
French (search for this): chapter 10
homas Crawford, took refuge in the banquette. The custom-house officer at one place approached with his lantern, to ascertain the contents of the diligence. Looking into the rotonde, he remarked, Baby baggage, and inquired no further. Dr. Howe had charged me to provide myself with a watch when I should pass through Geneva, and had given me the address of a friend who, he said, would advise me where best to make the purchase. Following his instructions, I wrote Dr. G. a letter in my best French; and he, calling at our hotel, expressed his surprise at finding that I was not a Frenchwoman. He found us all at breakfast, and, after the first compliments, began a voluble tirade in favor of the use of emetics, which was scarcely in place at the moment. From this he went on to speak of the management of children. When my son was born, he said, and showed the first symptoms of hunger, I would not allow him to be fed. If his cries had met with an immediate response he would have said
December 25th (search for this): chapter 10
whole papal cortege came sweeping by,—the state coaches of crimson and gold, and the Guardia Nobile with their glittering helmets, white cloaks, and high boots. Their course was illuminated by pans of burning oil, supported by iron staves, the spiked ends of which were stuck in the ground. When the rapid procession had passed on we hastened to overtake it, but arrived too late to witness either the arrival of the Pope or his progress to the high altar with the cradle in his arms. On Christmas Day I attended high mass at St. Peter's. Although the weather was of the plea. santest, an aguish chill disturbed my enjoyment of the service. This discomfort so increased in the course of the day that, as I sat at dinner, I could with difficulty carry a morsel from my plate to my lips. This is a chill, said my sister. You ought to go to bed at once. I insisted upon remaining to play for the promised dance, and argued that the fever would presently succeed the chill, and that I sho
Joseph Bonaparte (search for this): chapter 10
as yet some happy street; it is in the Via Felice My friend and I shall meet. Adolph Mailliard, the husband of my youngest sister, had been an intimate friend of Joseph Bonaparte, Prince of Musignano. My sister was in consequence invited more than once to the Bonaparte palace. The father of the family was Prince Charles Bonaparte, who married his cousin, Princess Zenaide. She had passed some years at the Bonaparte villa in Bordentown, N. J., the American residence of her father, Joseph Bonaparte, ex-king of Spain. This princess, who was tant soit peu gourmande, said one day to my sister, What good things they have for breakfast in America! I still remember those hot cakes. The conversation was reported to me, and I managed, with the assistance of the helper brought from home, to send the princess a very excellent bannock of Indian meal, of which she afterwards said, It was so good that we ate what was left of it on the second day. This reminds me of a familiar couplet:—
December 24th (search for this): chapter 10
o me the fact that an entire edition of Deodati's Italian translation of the New Testament had recently been seized and burned by order of the papal government. But to return to matters purely personal. As the Christmas of 1850 drew near, my sister L., ever intent on hospitality, determined to have a party and a Christmas tree at Villa Negroni. This last was then a novelty unheard of in Rome. I was to dine with her, and had offered to furnish the music for an informal dance. On Christmas Eve I went with a party of friends to the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, where the Pope, according to the custom of those days, was to appear in state, bearing in his arms the cradle supposed to be that of the infant Jesus, which was usually kept at St. Peter's. We were a little late in starting, and were soon obliged to retire from the highway, as the whole papal cortege came sweeping by,—the state coaches of crimson and gold, and the Guardia Nobile with their glittering helmets, white clo
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