November 9 Monday – The Clemens family took possession of the Villa di Quarto [Hill 72; Willis 1]. Note: Servants at the Villa di Quarto: Carlo Cosi (Chef), Adelasia Curradi (Upstairs maid), Gigia Brunori (Kitchen maid), Celestino Bruschi (footman), Theresa Bini, Ugo Piemontini (Butler), Emilio Talorici (?) coachman [AMT 1: group photo after p. 204]. Note: Katy Leary also in photo.
George Gregory Smith, who had acted as their agent to secure the Villa, called on the family and spent the day “installing” them. Smith wrote to his mother:
We have had a lot of fuss over the contagious disease which the Barlows were afraid of & which the Massiglias lawyer insisted on putting into the lease. A clause providing that if he had any contagious disease that he should bear the expense of disinfecting the villa. I told him they were evidently afraid that he had an infectious humor [Orth: Smith to his mother Nov. 10].
Clara Clemens later wrote about the Villa di Quarto (that Paine calls ‘a fine old Italian palace” MTB p. 1210) and its landlady.
The arrangements for our arrival were made by a friend of Father’s, Mr. Gregory Smith, who lived in Florence. He had spared no pains to insure the comfort of my parents. Indeed, nothing had been forgotten—except the complete deportation of the landlady. Mrs. A —– [Countess Massiglia ] was expected to leave town as soon as she rented her villa, but she had changed her mind. There were a few rooms over the stable in which she planned to spend a large part of the season. She as an American of the type one sees oftener abroad than at home. Her husband, an Italian, was somewhere in the Far East.
To start off with, Mrs. A—– had removed for her own convenience to the apartment over the stable, many things that had been included in the furnishings of the villa when it was rented by Mr. Smith. Father’s eyes began to crackle at this information. However, we really had all that we needed, because it was easy to borrow from one room to complete the comforts of the next, there being something like fifty or sixty rooms altogether, in that spacious villa which had been built by one of the Medici and was at one time occupied by a Russian grand duke. It was imposing in appearance as one approached it by the long garden drive, bordered on either side by tall poplars and cedar trees. Rose bushes in abundance. And a beautiful fountain that told of the many sweethearts it had blessed. In the far distance were the gray roofs and slender church spires of Florence; and everywhere silence. Unforgettable silence [MFMT 241].
Hill writes, “Miss Lyon and Clemens both instantly disliked the countess and recorded descriptions of her.” Sam wrote:
She is excitable, malicious, malignant, vengeful, unforgiving, selfish, stingy, avaricious, coarse, vulgar, profane, obscene, a furious blusterer on the outside and at heart a coward…It is good to be a real noble, it is good to be a real American, it is a calamity to be neither the one thing nor the other, a politico-social bastard on both counts [Hill 72]. See insert of the cavernous Villa.
Hill also writes that the Clemens party “arrived at the villa only to discover that Mrs. Clemens could not be placed in the bedroom chosen for her—a clause in the lease specifically forbade the presence of any sick person in that one room” [72].
Isabel Lyon remembered the countess when she was Mrs. Barney Campan, later divorced, in Philadelphia in the late 1880s, and wrote an equally damning indictment of the woman:
Count Massiglia is far away serving his country as Consul in Persia or Siam, and he is likely to stay there too; and it seems to me that for the sake of peace or freedom, he has left this Villa in the hands of the Countess … Here she remains, a menace to the peace of the Clemens household, with her painted hair, her great coarse voice, her slitlike vicious eyes, her dirty clothes, and her terrible manners. … Her viciousness seems to grow, as she realizes that she cannot make a tool of Mr. Clemens, nor use the lovely Clemens daughters as tools of another kind to give a place in society [Willis 3-4].
November 9 after – At the Villa Reale di Quarto near Florence Sam wrote a short note to Edward B. Caulfield, reporter for the Italian Gazette in Florence. “Shall we call it next Sunday? That is my off-day. At least part of it is—from 10 till 12 in the forenoon” [MTP}
Sam also wrote sometime during Nov. after their arrival on Nov. 9. to Caulfield: “I waited till 10.30—was then obliged to go. Very good—we will call it 10 next Sunday. This time I had to run away & hunt for a doctor” [MTP].
Sam wrote to an unidentified person: “Mrs. Lyon & Miss Lyon will arrive by the “Lahn” about November 22 or They will remain overnight no doubt & go to Florence next day” [MTP]. Note: the MTP has this as “before November 1” from Florence—if from Florence, it could not have been written until after Sam’s arrival on Nov. 9. Thus it is designated as just after Nov. 9. The Lahn left New York on Nov. 7 [NY Times, Nov. 7, p.13, “Shipping and Foreign Mails”].
Between Nov. and Dec. 1903 Sam wrote another short note to Caulfield:
I knew there was something I wanted to ask you yesterday, but before I could call to mind what it was, you were gone.
To-wit: The New York Sun says Maurice Hewlett is spending the winter in Florence. Is it so? Do you know him? If the Sun’s report is true, can you give me Mr. Hewlett’s address? [MTP]. Note: Maurice Hewlett (1861-1923), prolific English novelist and poet.
Sometime during November Sam wrote to an unidentified female informing her that “Thursdays is (or are) our day (or days)” and that he would be glad to see her [MTP: Christie, Manson & Woods catalogs, 24 Oct. 1979, Item 97]. Note: it was custom to assign a particular day and/or time of the day for callers.
Also about November Sam wrote a note to Harper & Brothers on the back of galley proofs for “The Jumping Frog, Then in French, Then Clawed Back into a Civilized Language Once More by Patient, Unremunerated Toil” by Mark Twain:
Years [ago], I learned that there hadn’t been any Greek frog in the business, and no Greek story about his adventures. Professor Sidgwick had not claimed that it was a Greek tale; he had merely snyopsised the Calaveras tale and transferred the incident to classic Greece; but as he did not state that it was the same old frog, the English papers reproved him for the omission. He told me this in England, in 1899 or 1900, and was much troubled about that censure, for his act had been innocent, he believing that the story’s origin was so well known as to render formal mention of it unnecessary. I was very sorry for the censure, but it was not that I applied it. I would not have done it. / M.T.
Private. It was at Oxford, but some idiot would be certain to jump up & say he wasn’t an Oxford professor. Then I should have to come out in the Presbyterian Review & reason with him, & say “nobody said he was, you son of a bitch.” / SLC [MTP].
Between November 1903 and June 1904 – At the Villa Reale di Quarto near Florence Sam wrote to Francis B. Keene of the US Consular Service:
You did quite right—do continue to “blow cold” on every enterprise that proposes to give me some work to do, however little. I could not write a single line for print without laying myself open to a fine of $500 (Harpers). I have 3 invitations by this morning’s mail—$1500 in fines for a single day if I should comply. I cannot afford these luxuries.
We are always contributing small sums to great objects like Dr. Steiner’s, but never large ones, for we cannot afford that; but to contribute words for print is a thing which my Harper contract forbids [MTP]. Note: Dr. Steiner not further identified.