CHAPTER IV.

_A Winter in Florence and Rome--Cheap Living and Good

Cooking--Walnut-fed Turkeys--The Grand Duke of Tuscany’s Ball--An

American Girl who Elbowed the King--What a Ball Supper Should

be--Ball to the Archduke of Tuscany--“The Duke of

Pennsylvania”--Following the Hounds on the Campagna--The American

Minister Snubs American Gentlemen._

I landed in France, not knowing how to speak the language, and only

remembering a few French words learned in childhood. It was the year of

the Paris Exposition of 1857; all the hotels were full. The Meurice

Hotel people sent me off to a neighboring house, where we lodged in the

ninth story. I saw the baptism of the Prince Imperial, and on that

occasion, and later on in Rome, at the Carnival, saw the handsomest

women I had yet seen in Europe. We then made for Florence, and there,

getting a most captivating little apartment, on the Arno, kept house,

and if it had not been for the terrible and incessant winds called the

_tramontana_ would probably have passed our days there. I had the most

admirable cook, and had never lived as well. Then the economy of the

thing; it cost nothing to live. I paid the fellow twenty-four pauls

($2.40) a day. For this sum he gave us breakfast and exquisite dinners.

For each extra guest, at dinner, I paid a few pauls; if I gave a dinner

party he hired for me as handsome a service of silver plate as I have

ever seen. His whole kitchen seemed to consist of half a dozen pots and

pans, and everything was cooked by charcoal.

His manner of roasting a turkey was indeed novel; he placed his bird on

a spit, put it in an iron pot, covered it with hot coals top and bottom,

and then kept turning the spit incessantly and basting the bird. Such a

perfect roast I have never before or since eaten. I shall speak later on

of the Newport turkey and the Southern barnyard-fed turkey, but they are

not a circumstance to the Florentine walnut-fed turkey. In Florence, at

the markets, all turkeys and fowls were cut up and sold, not as a whole,

but piece by piece. For instance, you saw on the marble slabs the

breasts of chickens, the wings of chickens, the legs of chickens; the

same with turkeys. To get an entire bird, you had to order him ahead, so

that a few days before Christmas, as we came home from our drive, we

found a superb turkey strutting through the drawing-room, the largest

creature I had ever seen, weighing twenty-five pounds. When he was

served, the walnuts he had eaten could be seen all over his back in

large, round yellow spots of fat. As he came on the table, he was indeed

a sight to behold; the skin, as it were, mahogany color and crisp, his

flesh partaking of the flavor of the walnut, would have satisfied

Lucullus.

At that period I worshipped doctors; my theory then was that you owed

your existence to them, that they kept you in the world, and not to

have a doctor within call was to place yourself in danger of immediate

and sudden death; so the first man I cultivated in Florence was the

English doctor. He came to see me every day; it was indeed a luxury; his

fee was two dollars. We became great friends, and as he was the Court

physician, he got me invitations to all the balls. The Grand Duke of

Tuscany, then the richest sovereign in Europe, gave a ball every

fortnight at the Pitti Palace. It was said that the Italians lived on

chestnuts and air between these suppers, and, like the bear, laid in

such a supply of food at them as comfortably to carry them through from

one entertainment to the other. Certainly such feasting I had never

before seen. The number of rooms thrown open really confused one, it was

hard not to lose one’s way. All the guests were assembled, and grouped

in the form of a circle, in the largest of these salons, when the grand

ducal party entered. The minister of each foreign country stood at the

head of his little band of countrymen and countrywomen who were to be

presented. The Grand Duke, Archduke, and suite passed from group to

group. The presentation over, the ball began in earnest. All waited

until the Archduke started in the dance, and as he waltzed by you, you

followed. When he stopped dancing, all stopped.

I remember, at one of these balls, dancing with an American girl, a

strikingly handsome woman, a great Stonington belle. As we waltzed by

the King of Bavaria, I felt a hand placed on my shoulder, and a voice

exclaimed, “_Mais, Monsieur, c’est le roi_”; I stopped at once, and

hastily inquired of my fair partner, “What is it?” She replied, “I did

it, I was determined to do it. As I passed the King I punched him in the

ribs with my elbow. Now I am satisfied.” I rushed up to the King and

Grand Chamberlain, saying, “_Mille pardons, mille pardons_,” and the

affair passed over, but I soon disposed of the young woman and never

“attempted her again.” The diamonds the women wore amazed me. You see

nothing in this country like the tiaras of diamonds I saw at this ball;

tiara after tiara, the whole head blazing with diamonds, and yet there

was but little beauty.

It was here that I first learned what a ball supper should be, and what

were the proper mural decorations for a ball-room and the halls opening

into it. The supper system was perfect. In one salon, large tables for

coffee, tea, chocolate, and cakes. In another, tables covered simply

with ices and other light refreshments, _foie gras_, sandwiches, etc. In

the grand supper room, the whole of the wall of one side of the room,

from floor almost to ceiling, was covered with shelves, on which every

imaginable dish was placed, hot and cold. The table in front of these

shelves was lined with servants in livery, and simply loaded with empty

plates and napkins to serve the supper on. The favorite and most prized

dishes at all these suppers was cold sturgeon (a fish we never eat), and

the most prized fruit the hot-house pineapple, with all its leaves, and

to the eye seemingly growing. Opposite the supper table, in another part

of the room, the wines were served, all by themselves, and there was, it

appears to me, every wine grown in any quarter of the globe. Everything

was abundant and lavish, and the whole affair was most imposing.

That winter the Archduke of Tuscany married one of the princesses of

Bavaria, and the Austrian Minister gave them a ball, which I attended.

The effect produced in approaching his palace, all the streets

illuminated by immense flaring torches attached to the house, was grand.

The ball-room was superb. From the ceiling hung, not one or two, but

literally fifty or more chandeliers of glass, with long prisms dangling

from them. The women were not handsome, but what most struck me was the

freshness of their toilets. They all looked new, as if made for the

occasion; not so elaborate, but so fresh and light and delicate. I

noticed that the royal party supped in a room by themselves, always

attended by their host.

As I was strolling through the rooms, my host, the Austrian Minister,

approached me and said, “I see I have another American as a guest

to-night, and he is decorated. Will you kindly tell me what his

decoration is?” “I really do not know,” I replied; “I will present

myself to him and ask.”

We approached my countryman together, and, after a few words, the

minister most courteously put the question to him. He drew himself up

and said, “Sir, my country is a Republic; if it had been a Monarchy, I

would have been the Duke of Pennsylvania. The Order I wear is that of

The Cincinnati.” The minister, deeply impressed, withdrew, and I

intensely enjoyed the little scene.

After the great works of art, what most impressed me in Florence were

the immense, orderly crowds seen on all public occasions, a living mass

of humanity, as far as the eye could see. No jostling or shoving, but

human beings filling up every inch of space between the carriage wheels,

as our horses, on a walk, dragged our carriage through them.

The most charming spot on earth for the last of winter and the spring

months is the city of Rome. We went there under most favorable

circumstances. A kind friend had leased an apartment for us in the Via

Gregoriana, and we found Rome full of the _crême de la crême_ of New

York society. In Nazzari we had another Delmonico, and we kept dining

and wining each other daily. Here I made intimacies that have lasted me

through life. I followed the hounds on the Campagna, and was amused at

the nonchalance of the young Italian swells as they would attempt a high

Campagna fence, tumble off invariably, remount, and go at it again. They

were a handsome set of men, as plucky as they were handsome. I myself

found “discretion the better part of valor,” and would quietly take to

the road when I met a formidable jump, but I lived on horseback and

enjoyed every hour. Though carrying letters to our American Minister,

then resident at Rome, I gave his legation a wide berth, as I had heard

that our distinguished Representative was in the habit of inviting

Italians to meet Italians and Americans to meet only Americans at his

house; when asked his reason for this, he replied: “I have the greatest

admiration for my countrymen: they are enterprising, money getting, in

fact, a wonderful nation, but there is not a gentleman among them.”

Hearing this, I resolved he should get no chance to meet me and pass on

my merits.

Several of our handsomest New York women were then having their busts

sculptured in marble; as you saw them first in the clay you found them

more attractive. Gibson for the first time colored his Venus; it added

warmth to it, and I thought improved it.

The blessing of the multitude by the Pope from the balcony of St.

Peter’s, under a canopy, with the emblematic peacock feathers held on

either side of him, the illumination of St. Peter’s, and the fireworks

at Easter were most impressive. But I shall attempt no description of

Rome. Nowhere in the world can you see such a display.

GERMANY AND THE ALPS.