childhood I remained under the care of my aunt; after her departure,
according to the custom of our country, a nursery governess was
engaged for me. As we lived in Rome, among foreign surroundings, and
my father wished me to be well grounded in my own language, he engaged
a Polish governess. She is still with us as housekeeper at Babuino.
My father also bestowed some pains upon me, especially after my fifth
year. I used to go to his room to talk with him, and this developed my
mind prodigiously, too much so perhaps for my age. Later on, when his
studies and archaeologic researches took up his whole time, he engaged
a tutor, Father Calvi. This was an old man, with a mind and faith
exceedingly serene. He loved art beyond everything. I believe religion
even reacted upon him through its beauty. In the galleries before the
old masters, or listening to the music in the Sistine Chapel, he lost
himself altogether. There was nothing pagan in these feelings, as they
were not based upon sybaritism or sensual enjoyment. Father Calvi
loved art with the pure, serene feeling as maybe a Da Fiesole, a
Cimabue, or Giotto loved it. And he loved in all humility, as he
himself had no gifts that way. I could not say which of the fine arts
he loved best, but I believe he leaned mostly towards harmony, which
responded to the harmony of his own mind.

Whenever I think of Father Calvi, I am reminded at the same time of
the old man that stands beside Raphael's Saint Cecilia listening
intently to the music of the spheres.

Between my father and the priest sprang up a friendship which lasted
unto the latter's death. It was he who confirmed my father in his
archaeologic researches, especially about Rome. There was another
bond between these two,--their love for me. Both considered me as an
exceptionally gifted child, and of a God knows what promising future.