Of all the Roman houses in which Irene visited, she most liked that of Count Primoli, who, during the season, entertained the whole of cosmopolitan Rome in his luxurious villa. Count Primoli was only half an Italian. Through his mother, a Princess Bonaparte, he was French, of which fact he was very proud. He was a delightful mixture of French wit and Italian gaiety and hospitality. Absolutely everyone went to his Wednesdays and Saturdays! The diplomatic world, famous Italian writers, French painters and journalists, celebrated singers, Indian princes, American millionaires, Russians, Swedes, and Englishmen. Romans of the higher circles visited him with pleasure, even though they disapproved of his cosmopolitanism. Count Primoli was undismayed[214] by this disapproval, for he well knew what a service he was rendering to society.
Gloomy dullards never see anything in receptions and other social gatherings but frivolous distractions, necessary, perhaps, to youth, but positively reprehensible when indulged in by older people. In truth, however, balls and parties of every description are indispensable to all human beings and to the maintenance of their moral and mental health. A man who leads a solitary confined existence loses his equilibrium. He ceases to see things in their just perspective, exaggerates and misunderstands everything, looks at life tragically, and makes mountains out of mole-hills.
As soon as he leaves off isolating himself, comes in contact with other people, exchanges ideas with them, laughs and talks a little, his mental balance is restored, and the mountains become mole-hills again. Also, the more various are the people he meets, the more his mind broadens and develops. People who exclusively frequent their own immediate circles, be they aristocratic or[215] otherwise, invariably grow dull and stupid. That is why the hospitable host who receives very mixed gatherings renders a great service to society—though society itself is short-sighted enough not to recognize this service.
To receive on a large scale is not as easy as people think. It by no means suffices to be rich and to issue invitations broadcast. The principal thing is to know how to receive one’s guests, an accomplishment attainable only on the two following conditions: Aristocratic extraction and love of humanity. At least three or four generations of well-born and wealthy people accustomed to social surroundings are needed for the production of a good host. Everyone who has been in the house of a nouveau riche knows that he felt, on that occasion, as though he were in a restaurant. The hosts did not know how to greet their visitors, nor how to introduce or unite them, so the latter ate and drank, and having witnessed what entertainment was provided for them, left, sometimes even forgetting to say good-bye to the hosts. A[216] love of humanity is as indispensable to a good host as blue blood, and Count Primoli may be said to have been richly endowed with both these qualifications. He was a true “Grand Seigneur,” and knew how to make his guests feel at home. He sincerely loved them all, and wished to give them pleasure. There were some vulgar people who made fun of his charming cordiality. Had he forgotten to invite them, or had he treated them with lofty disdain, they would immediately have begun to respect him. Nice people, however, valued his kind heart, and took no notice of the silly anecdotes that rumour spread about him.
Like all ideal hosts, Count Primoli loved his beautiful villa, and never tired of improving it.
“Je veux que ma maison ne ressemble à nulle autre,” he said to his friends.
This was not easy to attain, since, in our day, it is hardly possible to invent anything really new or original. Thanks to railways, steamships, newspapers, and journals, life grows every day more level and commonplace. Almost all the world lives, eats, and[217] dresses alike. The women of Greenland know the latest fashions as well as their Parisian sisters. The cannibals of Central Asia, imitating English lords, put on smoking-suits when they sit down to eat their roasted neighbours. The aristocratic drawing-rooms of Pekin are furnished like those of Madrid. Dinners, balls, receptions, are alike everywhere, and people travel from one end of the earth to the other noticing hardly any difference.
Count Primoli, however, managed to attain his object, and his receptions, once witnessed, were not easily forgotten.
Already, on driving up to the entrance of his villa, one felt a sense of gaiety and pleasure. The small covered courtyard was carpeted for the occasion and was decorated with flowers and the Bonaparte arms. A majestic outdoor servant, theatrically attired, received the carriages as they drove up. In the square hall, on each side of the door, stood rows of footmen, in long gold-embroidered satin tail-coats, knee breeches, white silk stockings, and buckled shoes, an original,[218] old, and now extinct French fashion of dressing house-servants.
The costumes of these footmen, indeed, were so splendid, that many people were sure they must be original ancient liveries of the Bonaparte family, and ought to be in glass cases in a museum. Perhaps this was true; but it is nevertheless a fact that the liveries were much more effective and much more clearly remembered on the shoulders of footmen than they would have been had they been hidden in a museum. The guests, on arrival, felt that they had left their humdrum daily existence outside the door, and that they had entered the enchanted realms of fairyland. Like children who expect a Christmas-tree and surprises, they crossed the hall, with its wonderful arm-chairs of velvet and cloth of gold, and its enormous sofa, covered with fur rugs and decorated with masks from Greek tragedy. Then up the staircase, over the balustrade of which were thrown priceless brocades of all shades and colours, the walls being hung with Chinese embroideries and fans of peacock-feathers.
[219]
Upstairs, the elegant drawing-rooms, with their pink curtains and gilt furniture, were wonderful and interesting museums of Napoleonic souvenirs. Count Primoli honoured the memory of his famous great-uncle, Napoleon I., and carefully preserved all Napoleonic relics. There were masks and miniatures of the great Emperor, and other ancient family treasures, jewelled combs, fans, lace, snuff-boxes, letters, seals, and silhouettes. In a prominent place stood a large glass case, brilliantly illuminated, containing two dresses: one of green velvet, embroidered with gold, from the w............