Part 28

"Alas!" he said, as his eyes filled with tears, "it is too true, I hate to think of it."

We left Monza at three o'clock this afternoon, I cannot tell you how kind their Majesties were to me! The Queen kissed me good-by and said, "Au revoir à Rome."

The King gave me his arm and went down the steps of the grand staircase of the principal entrance with me and put me himself in the landau. "You do not know what an honor this is," said Signor Peruzzi--as if I did not appreciate it!

We drove to the station in state and traveled in the royal compartment to Milan.... We intended to leave for Rome and home this evening, but I feel too tired to do anything but send to you these few lines and go to bed.

To-morrow night will find us in the Palazzo Tittoni, where the children already have arrived.

ROME, January, 1885.

Dear Aunt Maria,--Just now we are reveling in Liszt. Rome is wild over him, and one leaves no stone unturned in order to meet him. Fortunate are those who have even a glimpse of him, and thrice blessed are those who know and hear him. He is the prince of musicians--in fact, he is treated like a prince. He always has the precedence over every one; even Ambassadors--so tenacious of their rights--give them up without hesitation. Every one is happy to pay this homage to genius.

We met him the first time at M. de Schlözer's dinner. Schlözer, with his usual tact, plied him well with good food, gave him the best of wines and a superlative cigar. (Liszt is a great epicure and an inveterate smoker.) M. de Schlözer never mentioned the word "music," but made Liszt talk, and that was just the thing Liszt wanted to do, until, seeing that he was not expected to play, he was crazy to get to the piano. Finally he could not resist, and said to Schlözer, "Do play something for me!"

"Never!" said Schlözer. "I would not dare."

Then Liszt turned to me and asked me to sing. I also said, "I would not dare." Whereupon he said, "Well, since no one will do anything, I will play myself."

(The Minghettis, von Keudell, and Count Arco, Schlözer's secretary, were the guests.)

How divinely he played! He seemed to be inspired. Certainly the enthusiastic and sympathetic listeners were worthy to be his audience.

"Do you still sing Massenet?" he said to me. "Do you recollect my dining with you in Paris, and your singing those exquisite songs?"

"Recollect it!" I cried. "How do you think I could ever forget?"

"Will you not sing? I will accompany you," he said. "Have you any of Massenet's songs?"

"I have nothing with me to-night. I never dreamt of singing," I answered.

Schlözer said: "That is no obstacle. I will send a servant to your house directly to fetch the music." And in a very short time the music was in my hands.

Then Liszt sat down and, turning over the pages, found what he wanted, and I sang. Schlözer was radiantly happy. There was not one disturbing element. Every one was as appreciative as he was himself--those who listened as well as those who performed.

Liszt was at his best; I mean that he could not have been better. Knowing that Count Arco sang, he insisted on hearing him. Arco at first declined, but finally yielded--there was no resisting the arch-charmer. Liszt played the "Suoni la tromba" (Arco's cheval de bataille), by heart, of course, singing himself, to help the timid singer, and adding variations on the piano.

Liszt was in such high spirits that we would not have been surprised if he had danced a jig. He threw his long hair back from his forehead, as if to throw care to the winds. Later he spread his large hands over the keyboard in protest and said, "No more from me, but we must hear Schlözer before we go." Therefore Schlözer was obliged to play. He can only improvise, as you know. Liszt sat by his side and played a helpful bass.

Schlözer ordered some champagne, and we all drank one another's healths. It was after one o'clock when we bade our host adieu. Johan and I took Liszt in our carriage and left him at his apartment in the Via Margutta on our way home.

We saw a great deal of him afterward, and he dined with us twice. The first time we asked Grieg, the Norwegian genius, thinking it would please Liszt to meet him. Perhaps this was a mistake. However, it was a most interesting evening. Mrs. Grieg sang charmingly (Grieg's songs, of course); and Liszt, with his hands folded in front of him, was lost in thought--or was he asleep? Let us say he dozed--only waking up to clap his hands and cry "Brava!" But it was perfectly wonderful when he read at sight a concerto of Grieg's, in manuscript, which Grieg had brought with him. Liszt played it off as if he had known it all his life, reading all the orchestra parts. Both these great artists were enchanted with each other, but after a while Liszt became tired of music and asked if we could not have a game of whist. To play a banal game of whist with Liszt seemed a sacrilege, but we played, all the same. I was very distraite, seeing Grieg and his wife (who do not play cards) wandering restlessly around the room, and sometimes I put on an ace when a two would have done the deed.

Liszt plays the piano better than he plays whist. I don't know how many times he revoked. Every one pretended not to notice, and we paid up at the finish without a murmur. He was delighted to win four lire and something, and counted out the small change quite conscientiously. Johan drove him home--a very tired and sleepy Liszt--and only left him at the sill of his door.

I received a very queer letter the day Liszt dined here. I copy it for you. It was from the Princess W----, a lady whose friendship he renounced when he took holy orders.

I hear that you are going to have the Master (le Maître) to dine at your house. I beg of you to see that he does not sit in a draught of air, or that the cigar he will smoke will not be too strong, and the coffee he drinks will be weak, for he cannot sleep after, and please see that he is brought safely to his apartment.

Yours, etc., etc.

* * * * *

All these instructions were carried out to the letter. On another occasion Liszt wrote to me that he would bring some of his songs to try over at five o'clock. I inclose his letter. What a chance, thought I, for me to give pleasure to some of my friends who I knew were longing to see him. Although he had said entre nous in his letter, and I knew that he really wanted to look through the songs alone with me, I could not resist the temptation--though it was such rank disobedience--and said to them: "Liszt is coming to me at five o'clock. If you would like to hear him, and consent to be hidden behind a door, I will invite you." They all accepted with rapture, and were assembled in the little salon before the time appointed. The door was left open and a large screen placed before it.