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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 14, 1906)
-vo " " -r .7 - -T '" ' . - ' J ' ' 1 ' 30 THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, JANUARY 14. 1900. 1 An Apdtenoe with Pius a. r ' ffT JAMBS GIBBONS v HIINKEJL . 'Qflf JA.MKS (.'IUISUNS IIL'XKXKK. .lames Gibbons Huneker. who writes fw Tbe OreRonlan an account o Ms audience Is a hrilliant New Yorl. journalist and author. lie was for Hunt- year? music ami dramatic critic of the New York Recorder. later the MWHiiiK Advertiser, and recently of tle New York Sn. He Is the authoi f "Messa Hints in Modem Music." "hopln The Man attd HI Music." "Melomaniacf." He ie aim a con tributor to leading magazine. TTEMPTING to describe an audi ence Ht tlie Vatican, is a feat that reaulres the brush of Vnlnsniir and the pen of a Gautler. but as I iiaJ never been in the Vatican before my men- tal condition was that of ciilldllke inno- i oency. I went to stare and remained to pray for at least five seconds enough, however, to carry any miserable sinner across the gulf of despair into its pur gatorial haven. Perhaps Rome at a superficial glance still affects the American as it did Talne nearly a half-century ago as a provincial city, sprawled to unnecessary lengths over Its seven hills, and, despite the smart ness of its new quarters, far from sug gesting a wclstadt. as does, for example, bustling, shining Berlin or the mundane suavity of Paris. But not for her. in her superb and imperial indifference are the seductive spells of operatic Venice or the romantic glamour of' Florence. She can proudly say. "La ville. c'ost niol!" She is not a city, but the city of cities, and It needs but 24 hours' submergence in her atmosphere to make one a slave at her sterna I chariot wheels. The New York cockney, devoted to his ault of. the mod ernhotels, baths, cafes and luxurious theaters soon wearies of Rome, He pre fers Paris or Naples. Hasn't some one said, "See Naples and die of its smells?" As an inexperienced traveler I know of no city on the globe where you formulate an expression of like or dislike so quickly. You are Rome's foe or friend within. five minutes after you leave its dingy railway station. And It is hardly necessary to add that its newer quarters, pretentious, cold, hard and showy, are quite negligible. One does not go to Rome to seek the glazed comforts of Harlem or Brooklyn. Xcxv D'Annunzlo Tragedy. As a theatergoer I could not resist the blandishments of the Costanzi, especially as a new tragedy by D'Annunzlo was an nounced. "La Fiaccola sotto 11 Moggio" is its name, which may be paraphrased in English by "The Light Under the Bushel." a singularly inappropriate motto, by the way, for Its modest author! And it is worth mention that this poet, who breaks hearts for the mere pastime of serving them up In his multi-colored prose ah, art for art, how many are thy victims! Is as much the subject of gossip as tho police force is In New York. They don't chatter over such significant matters as the removal of a police captain from the Tenderloin to the Bronx district: these intellectually benighted Romans have only poets, musicians and painters to discuss. And It Is a loving gossip. As soon as a new work of a dramatist Is announced the lalk begins in street and boudoir, palace and bourse, church and cafe. You might suppose an election primary was at: hand. The very coachmen volunteer criticism, and if you timidly inform them that In darkest New York Duse's name Is known they look the very picture of Incredulity smiling on a carriage scat. Thus It was that I hard of D'Annunzio's vain efforts to divorce his wife, the Duchess Gallese, in order to marry' the charming Signorlna Rosita, daughter oif the Marquise Rudlnl. The Interest displayed In this complicated scandal shook all Italy as if by a moral earthquake In Venice they still speak of Duse and D'Annunzlo: not so In Rome. D'Annunzlo Js now Jn Milan, working with Baron Franchettl over their new opera, to be produced next March, called "The Daughter of Jorlo." It is his successful drama of that 'name set to music. Thcrofore I listened to his new and bloody tragedy at the Costanzi with more than passing attention. Though Inter preted by that robust and gifted young actor, Fumagalll, I did not care for the play, for reasons not to be given just now. But Oscar "Wilde's "Salome" was the afterpiece, and this pleasing enter tainment for babes In arms held me In my uncomfortable stall until the final curtain drop. New York will probably see it first, with the seven-league boots of Richard Strauss' music, for the trag edy demands acting of a high order and a gorgeous setting. Played by amateurs vn bare boards' It Is no longer Wilde, who Js luxurious or nothing in his art. It Is a skillful adaptation of Gustavc Flau bert's "Herodias," -and. horribly morbid k it is in its eomniinglement of blood and lust (these characters hae no real life outside of psychopathic ward. It lacks the genuine fiber of tragedy. But 'what has Wide's D'Annunzlo, to do with Rome, with the pope? Only that Rome, of all cities In the world, fur nishes the most surprises. The palimp sests of its various civilizations are not Its chief charms. It can be as new as to morrow while basking in the neighbor hood of antiquity. Beside, I dWn't go to Rome to se the pope. It was the marbles of the Vatican that haled me off my projected course If Leo XIII had been alive, then, I told myself, an audi ence by hook or crook; but the former Cardinal SartI and former Patriarch of Venice had, never appealed to my sense of the picturesque. He had always seemed an honest bourgeois pope, a hard-working, rather pathetic pope, but a jepo without the magnificent intellectual pres tige of Leo XIII. or possessing the bon- homme of Pius X of whom his prede- cessor, Gregory XVI, remarked tliat "even the very cats in his house wore Carbonari." This was when Pius IX was the Bishop of Imola and a liberal. Those cats changed their tune after 1818! The usual manner of approaching the holy father Is to go around to the Amur lean Embassy and harry the good-tempered secretary into a promise of a ticket, that Is, If you are not acquainted in clerical circles. I was not lonjj In Rome before I discovered that both Mgr. Kennedy and Mgr. Merry Du Val were a Frascati enjoying a hard-earned vacation. So I dismissed the ghost of one idea and pursued my pagan worship at tho Musco Vatlcano. Then the heay hoofs of three hundred pilgrims invaded the poace of the quiet Hotel Fischer up in the Via Sallus Tiana. They had come from Co-. logne and the vicinity of the 'L'pper Rhine bearing Peter's pence, wearing queer clothes and good-natured smiles. They tramped the streets and churches of Rome, did these commonplace, pious folk. They burrowed In the Catacombs and they ate their meals, men and women alike, with such a hearty gnashing of teeth, such rude appetite, that one envied their vitality, their 'faith, their wholesale air of having accomplished the conquest of Rome. Their schedule, evidently prepared with great forethought and one that went ab solutely to pieces when put to the test of practical operation, was wrangled over . at each meal, where the Teutonic clans fore gathered in full force. The third clay I heard of a projected audience at the Vati can. These people had come to Rome to see the Pope. Big boned and giant llktr Mgr. Pick visited the hotol dally, and once after I saw him In conference with Signor Fischer I asked him if it were pos-slble- 2Co Evening Dress. "Of course." responded the wily Fischer, "anything: Is possible In Rome." "Wear evening dress? Nonsense! That was in the more exacting days of Jxo XIII. TUc present Pope is a democrat. He hates vain show. Perhaps he has absorbed some of the Anglo-Saxon antipathy to see ing evening dress on a male during day light. But the ladies wear veils. All the morning of October 5 the hotel was full of eager Italians selling veils to the German ladies. ' Carriages blocked the streets and al most stretched four squares around the Palazzo Margherita. There was noise. There were explosive sounds when har gains were driven. Then, after the ven-"dors- of saints' pictures, crosses, rosary beads chiefly gentlemen of Oriental per- suasion, comical as it may seem we drove oft In high feather nearly 400 strong. I had secured from Mgr. Pick, through the offices of my amiable host, a parti-hued badge with a cross and the motto, "Coeln Rom., 1503." which. Interpreted, meant Cologne Rome. 1 felt like singing "Xach Rom." after the fashion of the Wagncrl ans In act II of "Tannhauscr," but con tented myself with abusing my coachman for his slow driving. It was all us excit ing as a first night at the opera. The rendezvous was the Campo Santo del Tcdeschi, which, with its adjoining church of Santa Maria della Picta, was donated to the Germans by Pius VI as a burying ground. There I met my com panions of tlie dining-room, and after a stern-looking German priest, with the bearing of an officer. Intcrrogotcd me I was permitted to Join the pilgrims. "What at first had been a thins of no value was now become a matter of life, and death. The numeric influence of the large and enthusiastic body of pilgrims was begin ning its work. I knew it. for had I not night after night, year after year, sat out execrable plays in the theaters of New York, plays whose sentiments I loathed, whose sentiments, nevertheless, brought tears to my uncritical eyes, and all be cause no man is strong enough to quite withstand the electric currents circulat ing through a gathering of his fellow inen? Mob-mania, it has been called by Lc Bon in his "Psychology of the Crowd." After standing above the dust and buried bones of illustrious and forgotten Germans, we went into tlie church and were cooled by an address In German of a worthy cleric whose name I cannot re call. I remember that he told us that wc wer. to meet the Vicar of Christ, a man like ourselves. He emphasized, strangely, so it appeared to me, the humanity of the great prelate before" whom we were bid den that gloomy Autumnal afternoon. And then, after intoning a Te Dcum. we filed out In pairs, first the women, then the men. along the naked stones, until we reached the end of the Via delle Fonda mcnta. The pilgrims wore their everyday clothes. One even saw the short cloak and the green jagerhuU "We left our um brellas at a gaderobe: its business that day was a thriving- one. We mounted in numerable staircases. We entered the Sala Regia. our destination. I had hoped for the more noble and spacious Sala Du ca!e Three o'clock was the hour set for the audience, but His Holiness was closeted with a French eccleslatical Eminence and there was" a delay of nearly an hour. We spent it in staring at the sacred and pro fane frescos of Damelc da Volterra. Va sarl. Salvlati and Zuccuri staring at each other. The women, despite their Italian veils. looked hopelessly Teutonic, the men clumsy and ill at ease. There were un couth and guttural noises. Conversation proceeded amain. Some boasted of being honvUy laden with rosaries and crucifixes, for all desired the blessing of the Holy Father. One man. a young German American priest from the Middle West, almost staggered beneath a load of pious bric-a-brac. The guilty feelings which had assailed me as I passed the watchful gaze of the Swiss Guards began to wear off. The Sala Regia bore an unfamiliar aspect, though I had been haunting it and the adjacent SIstlne Chapel dally for the previous month. An aura, coming I knew not whence, surrounded us. The awkward pilgrims, with their daily manners, al most faded away, and when at last a murmur went up: "The Holy Father! The Holy Father! He approaches!" a vast sigh of relief was exhaled. The tension had become unpleasant. We were ranged on either side, the women to the right, the men to the left of the throne, which was an ordinary-looking tribune. It must be confessed that Utter the fair sex was vigorously elbowed to the rear. In America the women would have been well to the front-, but the dear old Fatherland indulges In no such new fangled Ideas of sex equality. So the po lite male pilgrims by superior strength usurped all the good places. A tall, hand some man In evening clothes solitary In this respect, with the exception of the Pope's body suite patrolled the floor ob sequiously, followed by the Suisse in their hideous garb. A murrain on Michelangelo's taste if he designed such hideous uniforms! I fancied that he was no less than a Prince of the royal blood, so masterly was his bearing. When I discovered that he was the Roman correspondent of a well known North German gazette, my respect for the newspaper man abroad was vast ly Increased. The power of the press "Ills Holiness comes!" was announced, and this time it was not a false alarm. From a gallery facing the Sistine Chapel entered the inevitable Swiss Guards; fol lowed the officers of the papal household, grave and reverend seigniors; a knot of ecclesiastics, all wearing purple: Monslg nor Pick. the papal prothonotnry and it man of might in business affairs; then a few stragglers anonymous persons, stout, bald, officious and. finally. Pope Pius X. He was attired in pure white, even to the sash that compassed his plump little figure. A cross depended from his neck. He Immediately and in the most matter-of-fact fashion held out his hand to be kissed. I noted the whiteness of the ner vout hand tendered me. bearing the ring of Peter, a large, square emerald sur rounded by diamonds. Though TO. the Pope looks 10 years younger. He is slightly under medium height. His hair is white, his complexion dark, red-veined arid not very healthy. He seems to need fresh air and exercise; the great gar dens of the Vatican are no compensation for this" man of sosrows. homesick for the sultry" lagoons and stretches of gleaming waters In his old diocese of Venice. If the numan in him could call out It would voice "Venice-!" not the Vatican. The flesh of his face Is what the painters call "ecclesiastical flesh." large In grain; his nose, broad, unarlstocratlc; his brows strong and harmonious. His eyes may be brown, but they seemed black and brilliant and piercing. Pie moved with silent alert ness. An active, well-preserved man. though he achieved the biblical three score and ten last June. I noted, too. with satisfaction, the shapely ears, artistic ears, musical cars, their lobes freely de tached.. A certain resemblance to Plus IX there Is. but Pius X Is not a man of iredlocre intelligence. He Is not so amia ble as was that good-tempered Pope kIm was nicknamed by his intimate friend, the Abbe Liszt. "Pla Nina." because of Id musical proclivities. Altogether, I found another than the Pope I had expected. This, then was that exile an exile, yet in his native land: a prisoner In sight of th cit of which he is the spiritual ruler: a Prince over all principalities and domin ions, yet withal a feble old man. whose ll'e might be Imperiled if he ventured into the streets of Rome. The pope had now finished his circle of pMgrlms and stood at the other end of the Sala. With him stood his chamberlains and ecclesiastics. Suddenly a voice from the balcony, which 1 saw for the first time, bade us come nearer. I was thun derstruck! This was. back to the pros" of life with a vengeance! We obeyed in structions. " A narrow aisle was made, with the pope In the middle perspective. Then the voiced which I discovered by this time issued from the mouth of a bearded person, behind a huge, glittering camera, crietl out in peremptory and true photographer style: "One, two, three! Thank your holi ness." And so we were photographed. In tli" Vatican and photographed! Old Rome has her surprises for the patronizing vis itors from the New World! It was too businesslike for nie. and I would have gone away, but I couldn't, as the audleno had only begun. The pope went to his throne and received the heads of the pil grims. A certain presumptuous American told him that the church musical revolu tion was not much appreciated in Amer ica. He also asked, rash person that he was. why an example was not set at SJi. Peter's Itself, where the previous Sunday he had heard, and to his horror, a florid mass by Mllozzi. as florid and operatn as any he had been forced to endure in New York before the new order of things. A discreet poke in the ribs enlightened him to the fact that at a general audi ence such questions are not in good taste. The Pope spoke a few words in a ring ing baritone voice. He said that he loved Germany. loved its Emperor: that every morning his second prayer was for Ger manyhis first, was it for the hundredth wandering sheep of the flock. Frame' Thut he did not explain, lie blessed uf. and his singing voice proved singularly rich, resonant and pure in intonation for an old man. Decidedly Pius X is musical. The pilgrims thundered the Te Deum a second time with such pious fervor that the venerable walls of the Sala Regia shook with their lung vibrations. Then the Papal suite followed the sacred figure out of the chamber and the buzzing began. The women wanted to know, and indig nant were their inflections, why a certain lady, attired in scarlet, hat and all. was permitted in the sacred precincts. The men hurried. Jostling each other, for their precious umbrellas. The umbrella in Ger many is the symbol of the medieval sword. Pius-X is a democratic man. He may be seen by the faithful at any time. He has organized a number of athletic clubs for young Romans, taking a keen Interest in their doings. He Is an impulsive man and lias many enemies In his own household. He has expressed his intention of ridding Rome and perhaps Italy of their super fluous priests and monks, those unat tachod ones who make life a burden by their importunings and beggaries in Rome He has turned his eye lovingly toward America, and often his back on several of the cardinals. It is open gossip in Rome that he Is not beloved by the Col lege of Cardinals, particularly since the dean of the college. Cardinal Orcglia, dis ciplined Cardinal Ferrata. This Pope means to be master. Has he not said "There are too many cardinals and too few good bishops"? He intends stemming a terrible task the rising flood of bad taste In Italian churches, the gimcracks. gewgaws and mechanical art all in such shocking; bad taste. He Is very charitable. His personal energy was expressed while I was In Rome by his very spirited rebuke to some members of the athletic clubs at an audience in the Vatican. There was some disorder while the Pontiff spoke. H flxed a noisy group with an angry glance; "Those who do not wish to hear me well, there- is the open door!" Another incident, and one I neglected to relate in its proper place: As Pius pro ceeded along the line of kneeling figures during the German audience he encoun tered a little, jolly-lookln? priest, evident ly known to him. A smile, benign, witty, delicately humorous, appeared on his Hps. For a moment he seemed more Celt than Latin. There was no hint of the sardonic rictus which is said to have crossed the faces of Roman augurs. It was merely a friendly recognition tempered by humil ity, as if he meant to ask. "Why do you need my blessing, friend?" And it was the most human smile that I could Imag ine worn by a Pope. It told me more of his character than 'even did his meek and resigned pose when the official photog rapher of the Vatican called out his sono rous "Una, due, tre!"