Recollections of Full Years

and functions of every description, and we met a great many renowned and interesting people, both Roman and foreign. Mr. W. T. Stead, the correspondent for the London Times who was lost on the Titanic, was one of them. Then there was Mr. Laffan, proprietor of the New York Sun, and Mrs. Laffan, and Dr. Hillis of Brooklyn who was in Rome with his son. An attractive personality, who interested us very much and whose hospitality we enjoyed, was Princess Rospigliosi, the wife of an Italian nobleman, who lived in an enchanting house. She had a very beautiful daughter who was at that time keenly interested in the controversy as to whether or not Catholics should vote in Rome. She was strongly in favour of their doing so and, with extraordinary directness, carried her advocacy straight to the Pope and insisted that it was a great mistake for Catholics not to take advantage of the ballot and by that means secure the political rights to which they were entitled. Pope Leo, although very much impressed by what she said, insisted that it was not yet time to urge the reform suggested, and wound up by saying, “My good daughter, you go altogether too fast for me!” I don’t doubt that by this time the young Princess is a warm supporter of woman’s suffrage.

Also, we were entertained by a Mr. McNutt who had been in our diplomatic corps at one time in Madrid and Constantinople, at another time had been tutor to the sons of the Khedive of Egypt, and was then one of the Papal Chamberlains. He had married a woman of wealth, a Miss Ogden of New York.

Mr. McNutt had one of the most elaborate and beautiful palaces I ever saw. He had studied the customs of Roman society in the picturesque days of the Medicis and the Borgias, had rented the Pamphili Palace and restored it to its pristine glory, and it was here that he entertained us at a dinner, with cards afterward.

I felt like an actor in a medieval pageant whose costume had not been delivered in time for the performance. Cardinals in their gorgeous robes, with gold snuffboxes, gave to the scene a high colour among the soberer tones of Bishops and Archbishops and uniformed Ambassadors. Then there were Princes and Princesses and other nobilities of Roman society, the men displaying gay ribbons and decorations, the women in elaborate costumes, and all in a “stage setting” as far removed from modernity as a magnificent old-world palace could be. To make this reproduction of old customs complete our host made a point of having liveried attendants with flaming torches to light the Cardinals to and from their carriages.

Before I reached Rome, Mr. Taft and his associates had been present at a Papal consistory at which the Pope presided over the College of Cardinals. They were the guests of the Pope and occupied the Diplomatic Box. I was sorry to miss this exceptional privilege, but we were given ample opportunities for seeing and hearing several noteworthy religious festivals both at St. Peter’s and the church of St. John of Lateran. I was educated in the strictest Presbyterianism, while my husband’s mother was a Unitarian, and Puritan in her training and in all her instincts. We could not help feeling that we had been led into a prominent position in a strange environment. But, unshaken though we were in our religious affiliations, we appreciated the real beauty of the ceremonies and knew that we should rejoice in the unusual privilege accorded us which would never be ours again.

It was near the end of our stay in Rome that we had our audience with the Pope⁠—Mrs. Taft, Robert, Helen and I. I wore a black afternoon gown with a black veil on my head, while Mrs. Taft wore her widow’s veil as usual. Helen, I dressed in white and, to her very great excitement, she wore a white lace veil. Bishop O’Gorman accompanied us and when we reached the door of the Vatican under the colonnade at the right of St. Peter’s, we were met by some members of the Swiss Guard in their curious uniforms, conducted through endless corridors and rich apartments until we came to a small waiting-room where we were left for a few moments by ourselves. We had only time to adjust our veils and compose ourselves when the door on one side opened and we were ceremoniously ushered into the presence of Leo XIII who sat on a low chair under a simple canopy at the far end of the room. He rose to greet us as we entered, and as we were presented one by one he extended his hand over which we each bowed as we received his blessing.

He began speaking to me in French and finding that I could answer him in that language he talked with me for perhaps half an hour with a most charmingly graceful manner of comment and compliment. He spoke of Mr. Roosevelt’s present and wished that he knew English so that he might read the books. He referred to Mr. Roosevelt as “President Roomvine” which was as near as he seemed to be able to get to that very un-Latin name; said that he himself, in his youth, had been devoted to the chase and would like very much to read The Strenuous Life.

Later he called Robert to his side and gave him a special blessing, saying that he hoped the little boy would follow in the footsteps of McKinley and Roosevelt. He asked Bob what he expected to be when he grew up and my self-confident son replied that he intended to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. I suppose he had heard the Chief Justiceship talked about by his father until he thought it the only worthy ambition for a self-respecting citizen to entertain.

When we arose to go, His Holiness escorted us to the door and