to see where the blame lies, and which is
the less worthy individual, the ostentatious axe-grinding host or the
interested guest. One thing, however, I see clearly, viz., that life is
very agreeable to him who starts in with few prejudices, good manners, a
large amount of well-concealed "cheek" and the happy faculty of taking
things as they come.

No. 36--American Society in Italy

The phrase at the head of this chapter and other sentences, such as
"American Society in Paris," or London, are constantly on the lips of
people who should know better. In reality these societies do not exist.
Does my reader pause, wondering if he can believe his eyes? He has
doubtless heard all his life of these delightful circles, and believes in
them. He may even have dined, _en passant_, at the "palace" of some
resident compatriot in Rome or Florence, under the impression that he was
within its mystic limits. Illusion! An effect of mirage, making that
which appears quite tangible and solid when viewed from a distance
dissolve into thin air as one approaches; like the mirage, cheating the
weary traveller with a vision of what he most longs for.

Forty, even fifty years ago, there lived in Rome a group of very
agreeable people; Story and the two Greenoughs and Crawford, the sculptor
(father of the brilliant novelist of to-day); Charlotte Cushman (who
divided her time between Rome and Newport), and her friend Miss Stebbins,
the sculptress, to whose hands we owe the bronze fountain on the Mall in
our Park; Rogers, then working at the bronze doors of our capitol, and
many other cultivated and agreeable people. Hawthorne passed a couple of
winters among them, and the tone of that society is reflected in his
"Marble Faun." He took Story as a model for his "Kenyon," and was the
first to note the exotic grace of an American girl in that strange
setting. They formed as transcendental and unworldly a group as ever
gathered about a "tea" table. Great things were expected of them and
their influence, but they disappointed the world, and, with the exception
of Hawthorne, are being fast forgotten.

Nothing could be simpler than life in the papal capital in those pleasant
days. Money was rare, but living as delightfully inexpensive. It was
about that time, if I do not mistake, that a list was published in New
York of the citizens worth one hundred thousand dollars; and it was not a
long one! The Roman colony took "tea" informally