Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1903-03-07
SEEING THE POPE.
The Good Fortune of An American
Tourist at Rome.

1cii6 tpui ttthtl lOI the
desired excursion to see the pope,
writes Benjamin Brooks in the Boston
Transcript. There seems. in fact. to be
no royal road to the papal presence.
and it was by the merest chance and
on a day when l least expected it that
/ finally came face to face with that
wonderful old man.
The very modest sum which / al
lotted to my Italian prowlings forced
me often to disregard the advice of
my Indispensable friend Baedeker and
seek out those dingy but comfortable
little lodgings which only the students
and artist folk know. You go into a
dubious side street, feel your way
around seven angles of a dark, hollow
worn stair and emerge into q lovely
sunny little room with windows open
ing clear from the ceiling to the floor
out upon a wee balcony which over
looks the white umbrellas in the mar
ket place. Thus, for many days in
Rome, 1 had appeared and disappeared
through a dark doorway in the Via del
Babinno with the usual irregularity of
the sight-se and everything had gone
on in comfortable uneventfulness; but
on this special day, something was
wrong. The archaic jug of hot water
was late in arriving just outside my
door The tiny pewter coffee pot with
the very hot handle and the cover that
always dropped off into my cup was
tardy also and arrived in a furry.
The good landlady who waited on me
always with charm and dignity of a
great hostess, began an apology in
Italian at forty miles an hour from
which l sorted out words enough to
gather that it was a great occasion"
and had to do with the Pope. But an
'focca sion'' in Italian might mean any
thing from reception on the Quirinale
to clearance sale in the Corso; and
several minutes elapsed before it be-
came quite clear that my handsome
host, her husband, to whom paid-but
never mind how little-for bed and
board, was one OF the Pope's own chair
bearers. And this was the day on which
the Pope was to give audience in the
Vatican to over q thousand people and
deliver an address. Mine host was to
help bear him before the multitude in
his gilded chair. and would wear a
uniform wait, l will show you," eX-
claimed his wife in her mellow native
tongue, and returning in q moment, she
displayed gorgeous rose pink satin
livery-the coat cut with huge cuffs
and flaring skirts and truly abnormal
lapels to the pockets like the coat of
a seventeenth century courtier, the
knckerbockers, snug fitting and just
below the knee, the silk stockings and
buck skins to match. Holding these
against the staiwart six-foot person of
mine host as if he were Il lay figure,
she turned to me with a proud Wifely
smile. Yes, mine host was certainly
beauty in rose pink satin.
But, far more to the point, he hoped
to be able--what a time he had max
ing me understand how one hopes to
be able in the language of Italy!-he
hoped to be able to procure me an ad-
mission to the ceremony and would 1
care to go? 1 most certainly would.
| So we went, an hour ahead of time
toward the great dome of st. Peters,
past the splashing fountains, under the
long shadowy collonades to the en-
| trance where the crowd waited and the
Swiss Guards in the queerly striped
medieval miformS-the same that
Michael Angelo designed for them in
dark blue, scarlet and Saffron-kept
them back with rifles bayoneted with
flashing daggers. My chair bearer
spoke a magic word to the Swiss guard
and we passed them, bayonets and all.
and proceeded up n crooked stair to an
anteroom. Here an ominous silence
| hung and men sat waiting, all in long
| frock coats as solemn as if it were q
funeral or even q wedding. More
words from the chair-bearer supple
| mented by my visiting card brought
| me into the presence Of Il most official
| somebody who spoke all languages but
| English and the particular brand of
\ italian | called my own, and after try
II ing conversation with me in several
| of them gave it up and handed me n
red admission ticket. So far so good.
H The chair-bearer explained that it
j would admit me only to the anteroom
l through which the Pope would be car
ried on his way to the audience, but he
might manage better presently: and so
armed, he left me to find my way.
The anteroom was already crowded
except for the space rallied off for the
/ Pope to enter through. There We're
Numbers of peasant women and chill
|Idren with colored scarfs over their
heads and queer get-ups generally, and
/ pale sisters Of charity looking Serenely
out from under their white head gear,
and priests by the dozen. muttering
over their books. There We're also the
more well-to-do class who had done the
proper thing and appeared in ceremo-
lnious dress-the women in black silk
with black lace scarfs thrown artis-
tically over their extravagant heads of
dark hair, the men in full evening dress
Hooking very foolish indeed at half past
eleven in the morning. A few members
of Rome's BLACK Aristocracy" lowered
on the outskirts of the crowd in very
smart street costumes which anyone
could see were made in New York.
Then there was a sprinkling of tourists,
fair travellers from France, looking
every bit as pretty as they are sup
posed to. and German women with
elastic contrivances for hitching up
their long skirts to a convenient length
for walking, and German men in khaki
| for they are very wise in the matter
| of travelling costumes-and Englishmen
with bored expressions and umbrellas,
and a few Americans recently landed,
with crisp new look about them and