Carlo Knight's "The Advocate of Tiberius: The tormented existence and almost tragic death of Thomas Spencer Jerome" (translated)

Carlo Knight 

The Advocate of Tiberius 

The tormented existence and almost tragic death of Thomas Spencer Jerome

In memory of Giorgio Weber

Acknowledgements I would like to express my gratitude to all the people who have helped me by providing advice, permissions, photocopies, microfilm, and photographs. In particular, I thank: Giovanna Carignani; Chicca Citterio; Riccardo Esposito; Carmelina Fiorentino, Librarian, Centro Studi Caprensi Ignazio Cerio; Peter Gavrilovich, Editor, The Detroit Almanac; Cory E. Grace, Image Management Rights and Reproductions, The Freer Gallery of Art; Lorenza Leonardi; Barbara Louie, Archivist, Burton Historical Collection; Kathy Marquis and Karen Jania, Reference Archivist, Bentley Historical Library; Robin Meador-Woodruff, Associate Curator of Photographs and Coordinator of Museum Collections, Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan; Wilhelm Meusburger, Director, Voralberger Landes-bibliothek, Bregenz; Linda Raditz, Archivist, The Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives; Vonée Reneau, Archivist, Condé Nast Publications; Giovanni Schettino; Ausilia Veneruso. 

Special thanks go to the Bentley Historical Library, the Kelsey Museum of Ancient and Medieval Archaeology (University of Michigan), and the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives for allowing me to publish documents and photographs from the archival holdings of the Papers of Thomas Spencer Jerome and the Charles Lang Freer Papers. 

Finally, I feel indebted to Dr. Susan Hobbs, whom I would have liked to thank personally, but unfortunately I have been unable to contact. About twenty years ago, Dr. Hobbs, while writing a biography of Freer (which I don't know if it was published), corresponded with Giorgio Weber. From that correspondence (which Weber entrusted to Riccardo Esposito and Ausilia Veneruso, the editors of La Conchiglia, in the hope that someone would one day use it to write a book on Jerome), I have gleaned useful information.

Sources and abbreviations ACK: Author's Archive ANN: Notarial Archive of Naples ARE: Riccardo Esposito Archive CC: Centro Caprese Ignazio Cerio Cerio: Edwin Cerio, The Hour of Capri, Capri 1950 Douglas: Norman Douglas, Business Cards, An Autobiographical Journey, trans. by J. Rodolfo Wilcock, Milan 1983 CLFP: Charles Lang Freer Papers, Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., Gift of the Estate of Charles Lang Freer. PTSJ: The University of Michigan, Kelsey Museum of Ancient and Mediaeval Archaelogy, The papers of Thomas Spencer Jerome, Processed by Carol Finerman, August 1981. Lawton: Thomas Lawton and Linda Merrill, Freer, a legacy of art, Washington, D.C., 1993 Merrill/1: Thomas Lawton and Linda Merrill, Freer, a legacy of art, Washington, D.C., 1993 Merrill/2: With kindest regards, The correspondence of Charles Lang Freer and James McNeill Whistler (1890-1903), edited by Linda Merrill, Washington, D.C., 1995. Money: James Money, Capri, the story and its protagonists, Milan 1993 Saarinen: Aline B. Saarinen, The proud possessors, New York 1958 VF: Compton Mackenzie, The Vestals of Fire (Vestal Fire), preface. by Francesco Durante, trans. by Marino Barendson, Capri 1993.

In Vestal Fire, Compton Mackenzie describes aspects of life in the Anglo-Saxon colony on Capri in the years before the First World War. The main protagonists are two elderly and wealthy American women, Kate and Saidee Wolcott-Perry, who live in the Villa Torricella, the Moorish-style building that appears before visitors disembarking at Marina Grande. The Wolcott-Perrys have a protégé, the young French Count Jacques Fersen, in whose honor they host receptions that constitute the island's social event. On these occasions, the Torricella garden is illuminated with Chinese lanterns, and guests enjoy exquisite food and drink and dance until dawn to the sound of a mandolin orchestra. There is, however, one obstacle. Only foreign residents of Capri who share the Wolcott-Perrys' admiration for Fersen are eligible to receive the invitation card. Yet the latter's behavior is far from irreproachable. "Count Jack" smokes opium and lives with a handsome young Roman former bricklayer. Gradually, two factions emerge in the colony: the group of Fersen's admirers, led by the Wolcott-Perrys, and the group of opponents led by the elderly American painter Charles Coleman. Only Norman Douglas and Thomas Spencer Jerome, thanks to their personal prestige and diplomatic skills, manage to avoid becoming involved in the feud. Thus the story unfolds until news reaches Capri of Fersen's past, revealing that he has been tried in Paris for the corruption of minors. The confusion between "minors" and "miners"—two words that sound almost identical in English—provides Mackenzie with the opportunity for irresistible humor. Since the Wolcott-Perrys refuse to believe the rumors, episodes of the absurd war continue to fill the amusing pages of Vestal Fire. Toward the end of the book, however, the tone changes. War has broken out, and the men are leaving for the front, except Fersen, who invents all sorts of excuses. As soon as the Wolcott-Perrys realize that "Count Jack" is a coward, disappointment causes their world to collapse. To isolate themselves, the two women barricade the gates and transform the Torricella into a prison. Years pass, and Capri changes. The old characters disappear one after another, or abandon the island. Saidee dies first, and Kate follows her a few years later. Both rest today in the non-Catholic cemetery beneath a funerary monument that reproduces a mullioned window from the Torricella. A window nostalgically overlooking the azure Bay of Naples, not far from the tombs of Jacques Fersen, Charles Coleman, Norman Douglas, Thomas Spencer Jerome, and the other characters from Vestal Fire. “Old friends and old enemies, English, Americans, Germans, Swedes and Dutch, longtime residents, tourists who came for a week and stayed a lifetime, all now rest side by side, huddled together in that little cemetery” (Vestal Fire, p. 368). On the non-Catholic cemetery of Capri, see Dieter Richter, The Garden of Memory, Capri 1996.

James Money was a mysterious character who had done many jobs. He had been an archaeologist, he had fought during the war as an officer in the Royal Artillery, he had been an agent in the Intelligence Service, and finally, after retiring, he had settled in Capri where he had become a writer. After reading Vestal Fire, the novel “à clef” by Compton Mackenzie, he had in fact come up with the idea of ​​writing a book about Capri, a sort of socio-anthropological history of the island. And so he carried a notebook in which he jotted down all sorts of news and testimonies, including slander and gossip. (1)

About twenty years ago, while I was having a coffee at the “funicular bar” in Capri, Money came and sat at my table, stopped a waiter to order a prosecco, and while sipping it, began to speak in a low voice, as if confiding a secret. The words came out of his almost lipless mouth, and the vertical creases that marked his cheeks and chin gave the impression of wearing a mask. He had a sly smile, and his eyes flashed shrewdly. He said he was in a generous mood. He intended to give me a gift: he had discovered in the United States, in the archives of Michigan University, papers relating to Thomas Spencer Jerome, the existence of which was unknown in Capri. Money was certain that this would interest me. In fact, only the little that Edwin Cerio had written about Jerome was known, and he had included Jerome among that small group of madmen who, according to his colorful conception, at the beginning of the 20th century had transformed Capri into a sort of "pocket asylum." (2) Certainly, the lawyer Jerome had dedicated the last fifteen years of his life to defending Tiberius; as if after two thousand years the emperor had brought a defamation suit against Tacitus and Suetonius. But was that enough to make him unbalanced? Surely the documents Money discovered would reveal something new. But to read them, I'd have to travel to America, or have hundreds of microfilms sent to me from the University library. A laborious and expensive operation. To what extent was it worth it? Did the character deserve it?

1 

The book Capri, Island of Pleasure, published in England in 1986, was also successful for its pleasant writing. An Italian translation was released in 1993, but had to be withdrawn from circulation to avoid legal action. Nevertheless, if used with caution, Capri, the Story and Its Protagonists remains a valuable reference text.

As I was wondering, after saying goodbye to Money, how I could clear my thoughts, I decided that the first thing to do would be to go to the cemetery and look for Jerome's grave, which I found easily, since the non-Catholic section was small. The tomb consisted of a large marble slab supported by four small columns, so much like a bench that I didn't hesitate to sit down. It was the ideal place to reflect; and by dint of thinking, I came to a conclusion. The portrait of Jerome sketched by Cerio in a humorous form had the air of having been deliberately superficial. From which it followed that behind the summary caricature there might be a mystery hidden. The writer's effort to trivialize Jerome was evident. But why had he wanted to "punish" him after his death by making him ridiculous? Was there perhaps a secret that Jerome had brought with him to the grave on which I was sitting?

2 Edwin Cerio, Manicomio Tascabile, Milan 1934.

Before leaving, I read on the tombstone the date of his death, April 12, 1914, and a Latin inscription whose phrase struck me: "Cum laude et bonis recordationibus facta atque famam nominis mei prosequantur". The deceased asked to be remembered by posterity for the good deeds he had accomplished. A noble thought. Obviously, it was a classic quotation. But who was the author?

Some time later, I met Money and told him I'd been to the cemetery. He then took a letter from his pocket and showed it to me. It was from Mrs. Carol Finerman, archivist at the Bentley Historical Library at the University of Michigan. Mrs. Finerman had just finished sorting the "Jerome Papers" and found them so interesting that the Kelsey Museum, the university's archaeological museum, was organizing an exhibition titled Thomas Spencer Jerome and the Bay of Naples (1899–1914). Finerman, who had been entrusted with writing Jerome's biography for the catalog, asked Money for information about the lawyer's fifteen years in Capri. Money seemed annoyed: he was expecting information for his book, but instead he had received a request that would waste his time. The English have coined a phrase to describe the exploitation of other people's brains, "to pick somebody's brain," which captures the idea perfectly. Money certainly knew it. A few days later I saw him again, and he confided in me that he had managed to get rid of the burden by passing it off to Dr. Giorgio Weber, a very kind and helpful man. Weber, born in 1894 and living in Capri until 1929, was better placed than anyone else to provide Mrs. Finerman with information about Jerome. Weber lived in Florida; he was nearly ninety, but he retained a prodigious memory and was able to relive every detail of the distant days of his youth. He had known everyone, and remembered everything.

In January 1982, Mrs. Finerman sent a letter to Weber: “I am the archivist of the Kelsey Archaeological Museum at the University of Michigan. In 1980, I organized the papers of Thomas Spencer Jerome. These documents came to us in 1915 through Francis W. Kelsey, professor of Latin at the University of Michigan, who had been sent to Capri with the task of dividing Jerome’s library between the University of Michigan and the American Academy in Rome. Jerome’s voluminous notes, and the manuscript of the work Roman Morals on which Jerome had worked for years, were published posthumously in 1923, edited by John G. Winter of the University of Michigan, under the title Aspects of the Study of Roman History. Jerome had included in his will a bequest to ‘advance the cause of historical research,’ which was used to establish the Jerome Lectures, lectures given twice a year by eminent scholars at the University of Michigan and the American Academy in Rome. Since last October, I have been in correspondence with J. H. Money, who, as you know, is writing a book on Capri. I learned from him that you have provided him with a wealth of information about Jerome's life on Capri. Unfortunately, our documents shed little light on this subject. We are planning an exhibition to coincide with the next Jerome Lectures to be held here in the fall of 1983. Could you help us locate photographs, artifacts, letters, or memoirs relating to Jerome? And could I come and interview you about Jerome in the near future?

3 Sitting on a tomb is not disrespectful, since the dead enjoy company. The ancient Pompeians had exedra-shaped tombs built with stone couches with backs and armrests to make visitors' rest comfortable. 

4 Letter dated January 14, 1983. ACK.

The answer arrived within a few days. Weber wrote: “I will do my best to fulfill your request, although I think Money has exaggerated the value of the information I can provide. Having been born in 1894, I was too young to know Jerome, or to be interested in his research. I must say, however, that I saw him often, and I was familiar with the Villa Castello where he lived. At the beginning of the century, Capri was a winter resort, frequented mainly by Germans and Scandinavians, who spent periods of a few days to a few weeks there, guests in the hotels and guesthouses that were beginning to be built. At the same time, there was a colony of foreign residents, mostly English and Americans, but with some presence of other nationalities. United by language, the English and Americans tended to stay together and form a community separate from the locals and other residents. Jerome must have arrived on Capri around 1900. According to Compton Mackenzie’s account in Vestal Fire, Jerome came to Italy to purchase excavation objects on behalf of his university and, once there, he became so interested in Tiberius decided to retire to Capri and conduct research on the emperor there. This would be plausible reasoning if Capri offered the opportunity to conduct research on Tiberius. However, this is not the case. Capri has no libraries or archaeological museum. The excavation objects discovered on Capri are scattered throughout various European cities. The only thing that remains are the ruins of Villa Jovis, Tiberius's main residence. According to Edwin Cerio, a native of Capri who wrote several books on the island, Jerome, a successful lawyer from Detroit, bought Villa Castello by telegram, without seeing it. This is said to have happened while he was spending an evening at the Club, after learning from a friend that a villa was for sale. Having known Cerio for years, I know he did not hesitate to alter the facts to fit his preconceptions. The story seems too fanciful to be true. In my opinion, the reason that drove Jerome to come to Capri, and to remain there until his death, was the relationship that tied him to his wife-'housekeeper,' which was unlike a normal employment relationship. Vestal Fire provides evidence in this regard, and if we accept this thesis, we understand why Jerome, faced with the risk of becoming a pariah in his own world, preferred to leave Detroit and move to a more tolerant environment. Jerome chose Capri because that island—in addition to its pleasant climate and natural beauty—has always been, since the time of Tiberius, a welcoming refuge for nonconformists and outcasts. In any case, he settled in Villa Castello with the 'housekeeper,' whose name was Yetta. Villa Castello is not an imposing house as its name might suggest, despite being one of the largest and most comfortable villas on Capri. Its northern section enjoys a spectacular view of the bay, with Vesuvius to the right, Naples in the center, and the islands of Procida and Ischia to the left. On the southern side, it has a large garden, but it has no view. Mackenzie recounts that Jerome lived like a recluse on Capri and had the appearance of a sick man. The change must have happened during his later years. I remember him as a robust, middle-aged man, with dark hair, a beard, and glasses. Mackenzie describes Yetta as a young woman with gypsy-like features. I remember her as beautiful, in her thirties, slender, and dark-skinned. At the time, I didn't know the meaning of the term "mulatto." Later, I realized that was true of Yetta.

5 Letter dated January 1983. ACK.

One day, early in the century, when I may have been nine or ten, Jerome had a beautiful, authentic Indian canoe shipped from Michigan. He kept it at Little Marina, on the south side of the island, where I was born and where I lived at the time. How I envied Jerome and Yetta, whom I believed to be his wife, and how I would have loved to paddle that wonderful canoe. Almost every day during the summer months, Jerome and Yetta would walk down from Villa Castello, board the canoe, and paddle around the western tip of Little Marina to a tiny beach about a mile away. There they would swim and sunbathe. They would return after two or three hours and walk back to their villa. Even today, eighty years later, I could show you the exact spot where they pulled the canoe ashore. This is one of two things I remember about Jerome. The other is the plaque with the United States coat of arms that used to hang on the gate of Villa Castello. At the top it read 'United States of America.' At the bottom it read 'Consular Agent.' It must have been an honorary title, that is, a position that carried no responsibility. Try as I might, I can, in fact, recall only one case of an American getting into trouble on Capri. I'm talking about Booth Tarkington, who spent a couple of days in the comfortable Capri prison after getting drunk and starting to annoy people. This is all I can tell you about Jerome from firsthand knowledge. I realize it's not much, and perhaps it's not what you expected. After the First World War, as soon as I began practicing medicine on Capri, I had the opportunity to meet most of the characters described by Compton Mackenzie in Vestal Fire. If you'd like, I could sketch a few brief descriptions for you. But that would take time. My fingers aren't as nimble anymore, and my mind isn't as sharp as it once was.

In May, Mrs. Finerman wrote to Weber (6) to say that the information was valuable, but that Jerome remained an enigma: “We have little information about him. In compiling a biography of him, we have been able to rely only on three documents: the card Jerome filled out for the University Alumni Association, a letter that appeared in a newspaper after his death, and John Winter’s introduction to Aspects of the Study of Roman History, the book that summarizes, in a revised and abridged form, Jerome’s research for the great work that was to be called Roman Morals.”

In the summer of that year, Weber came to spend a couple of months on Capri. He was staying at the "Gatto Bianco," a hotel owned by distant relatives. I went to visit him. He welcomed me courteously, and I was surprised by his lively mind and his cordiality. He immediately suggested we address each other informally, and after a couple of meetings we became friends. We sat in the garden in the shade of a pergola, and as he recalled Capri's past, I listened, fascinated. He once told me that in 1923, as a medical officer, he had embalmed the body of Fersen, who had committed suicide with an overdose of cocaine dissolved in a glass of champagne. On another occasion, he told me about his meeting with the "king of guns," Friedrich Krupp. It happened at Marina Piccola, where the Webers lived: “I was a child. It must have been in the winter of 1901. There had been several days of rough seas, and I was walking on the beach looking for shells. He was there and, when I approached, he asked me my name. I told him; and then he asked me about my father, and if I spoke German. What was I doing on the beach? I showed him some shells I had collected. I explained to him that the most beautiful specimens were found after strong storms.” (7) But the funniest episode concerned the Wolcott-Perrys, the two elderly ladies who starred in Vestal Fire:  "The Wolcott-Perrys often went to America for stays of a few months. In those days, such a journey required a certain number of trunks, and the shipper Alberto Lembo was in charge of transporting them from Capri to the ocean liner and vice versa. Upon returning from one of those trips, Lembo took charge of the trunks on the ocean liner and set about taking them through customs. Usually, this was a formality: the trunks were never opened. But that time, a guard asked to inspect a trunk, and among the women's clothing, to the surprise of those present and the embarrassment of Alberto Lembo, a human rubber penis attached to a belt was found. The penis was designed in such a way that it stiffened with the introduction of a liquid, and with the click of a spring it emptied itself (presumably into the vagina at the moment of orgasm). The incident served to amuse the Capri people for many years." months”. (8)

6 Letter dated May 2, 1983. ACK. 

7 ACK.

8 See in ARE, Giorgio Weber's comments on the book Capri, 1905-1940, Frammenti postumi, edited by Lea Vergine, Milan 1983. 

The exhibition dedicated to Jerome, containing various documentary and photographic material, opened in Ann Arbor on September 20. The catalog, edited by John D’Arms, dean of the Department of Classics at Michigan University, devoted ample space to the finds from the collection of Canon De Criscio, parish priest of Pozzuoli, purchased in 1899 by archaeologists Walter Dennison and Francis Willey Kelsey (9) on behalf of the university. (10) Jerome's biographical sketch, compiled by Mrs. Finerman, provided the following information: "Thomas Spencer Jerome, patron of the Jerome Lectures held twice a year at Michigan University, was born on January 24, 1899, in Saginaw, Michigan, to Lucy Aemilia Peck Jerome and David H. Jerome, Governor of Michigan. He attended Michigan University and received his bachelor's degree in 1884. He then studied law at Harvard, where he received his degree in 1887. Jerome then returned to Michigan and practiced law in Detroit for a decade. In 1898, during the Spanish-American War, he was appointed by the War Department as Counselor to the Transportation Division, commanded in Cuba by Colonel Frank J. Hecker. […] In 1899, Jerome left the United States for Italy, where he served as Consular Agent, first in Sorrento from 1900 to 1901, and then in Capri from 1901 until his death in 1914. [...] In 1900 Jerome and his close friend Charles Freer, a railroad magnate and art collector, jointly purchased a sumptuous residence in Capri, the Villa Castello, where Jerome, a member of the colony of foreign residents, spent the last fourteen years of his life indulging in pleasant social pastimes and study.”

The biography made no mention of Yetta, the woman who had played an important role in Jerome's life. Yet Mackenzie had written that “[Jerome] had not isolated himself so much only because of his studies, but also because he had brought with him to Sirene [Capri], as a servant, a young woman with a gypsy face of whom he was madly jealous. And his wasted air was due not only to the nights spent studying, but also to the terrible Midwestern American cuisine that she served him. She loved him, as often happens to women of this kind, with a delirious passion. She was exasperated that his ‘lady’ friends treated her like a servant. And, faced with her tantrums, Scudamore [alias Jerome] ended up not inviting any ladies any more. Then she tried to distance him even from the men she frequented; and she behaved so badly with those who came to the villa, that little by little no one came anymore”. (11)

9 On Internet-Google I found the biographical notes on Francis Willey Kelsey (1858-1927) compiled by Arthur E. R. Boak and Carol Finerman. From the same source comes the Biographical Essay edited by William H. Worrell taken from the Dictionary of American Biography (American Learned Societies, 1928-1036).

10 Compton Mackenzie implies in Vestal Fire that Jerome had also participated in the negotiations for the purchase of those hundreds of Greek and Latin inscriptions, vases, fragments of sculptures, votive statuettes, cinerary urns, household objects in bone, bronze and glass from the Campi Flegrei. Some of the events surrounding the De Criscio collection were recounted by Kelsey to Edith Andrews in a letter from Rome, dated July 26, 1921 (PTSJ, 1.10, 86): “I have finished my work at Pompeii earlier than expected, and having to go north, I have been forced to leave a pending transaction in Naples. I wonder if you might not be able to help me in this regard. Abbot De Criscio, of Pozzuoli, belonged to the older generation and was one of the most erudite men of that region. He was a friend of the historian Mommsen, and a great collector of inscriptions from Pozzuoli and Misenum. It is a long and interesting story, but I cannot tell it in detail now. Before his death, he gave his collection of inscriptions to the University of Michigan, 150 of which had been published by Mommsen. They constitute the most important archaeological pieces we possess. However, he kept a small part, consisting mostly of objects of little value, some of which could be useful to us for educational purposes. The University maintained contact with the abbot and his sister through Professor Walter Dennison, who died in 1917. While I was in Pompeii, I received a letter from the abbot's sister, who stated that she wished to sell the remainder of the collection for 4,500 lire, a price that seems reasonable to me. I went to Pozzuoli to see the objects, but I did not have time to make a list. I wrote to the University, recommending the purchase, but I am distressed by the fact that I have not been able to make an inventory. If you were in Naples in the next few days, would it be possible for you to go to Pozzuoli and do it for me? De Criscio's sister could help you, since she knows the collection perfectly.” 

11 VF, p. 105.

Nor did the file explain why Jerome had gone to Cuba during the Spanish-American War as a "transport advisor." And there were other unanswered questions. Who was "Colonel Hecker"? Why had Jerome stayed a year in Sorrento before settling in Capri? And what was the nature of his relationship with Freer?

I wrote to Weber, who had since returned to Florida, to express my doubts, and in November 1983 I received a reply: "I don't know where Jerome might have met Yetta. Perhaps in Cuba. Probably in Detroit. In any case, he must have been completely infatuated with her, so much so that he abandoned everything. At the time, a relationship between a white man and a black woman would have led to lynching in the Southern states and banishment in Michigan, especially for a prominent figure like Jerome. My theory is that, after settling down with Yetta at Villa Castello, Jerome realized the enormity of the mistake he had made. He was a man in the prime of his life, very active both professionally and socially. Perhaps he had harbored political ambitions. Now he was suddenly bored to death, drowning in 'dolce far niente' amid the idle gossip and petty jealousies of the small Anglo-Saxon colony of Capri. He still loved Yetta, but the honeymoon flower he had withered. That they were lovers is certain. No thirty-five-year-old bachelor is accompanied into exile by a twenty-five-year-old governess."

In the early spring of 1984, Weber forwarded me a copy of a message from Mrs. Finerman. (12) The archivist reported that she was in contact with Dr. Susan Hobbs, a research associate at the Smithsonian Institute, who was conducting research “on Charles Freer and our friend Jerome.” And eight months later I received another letter from Weber: (13) “For me, the figure of Jerome becomes more mysterious every day, and therefore interesting. Since last February I have been corresponding with Susan Hobbs, Ph. D., Smithsonian Institute Research Associate, who intends to write a biography of Charles L. Freer, founder of the Freer Gallery in Washington. Freer had been a close friend of Jerome. Proof of this is that they originally bought the Villa Castello together. From what Ms. Hobbs writes to me, it is possible that Freer was homosexual, and that his relationship with Jerome (ten years his junior) was not a simple friendship. Yetta's presence at Villa Castello may have been the cause of the rift between the two, which occurred in a dramatic meeting in London in 1906. It was then that Jerome bought Freer's share and became the sole owner of Villa Castello.”

It was at that point that I realized the futility of seeking information on Jerome and Freer in Edwin Cerio's books. Speaking of Jerome, Cerio had written: "Around 1910, symptoms of a slow and mysterious illness began to manifest themselves in him, attributed to the poor quality of the whiskey he used as fuel to keep in motion the cumbersome structure of that world his studies had reborn." (14) Freer, according to Cerio, was instead "an industrialist who had become rich through the invention and manufacture of a world-famous flypaper, and who, as a result of the excessive money he earned, was suffering from a form of heart fat, a form which in America degenerates into patronage." (15) Also illuminating was the superficiality with which Cerio spoke of Americans in general: “They have applied their intelligence to the practical aspects of life; their greatest activity has been directed towards the acquisition of wealth. Both [Ancient Romans and Americans] are weak in aesthetics; they do not regard beauty as an independent factor in spiritual life, but only as an attribute of things useful or ethically praiseworthy. Their literary productions, for a long time, have not had much importance or originality, and their art has remained imitative.” (16)

14 Cerio, p. 245. Cerio's account of the tombstone that Jerome intended to dedicate to Tiberius contains inaccuracies invented for the purpose of making a tragic story comical. Thus, for example: 1) the text of the inscription is altered to make it ridiculous, 2) it is claimed that "not knowing Latin [Jerome] relied on a learned Canon of the Collegiate Church for the translation of the English text", 3) it is said that "the most suitable place to proclaim the good conduct of Tiberius was [for Jerome] the Capitoline Hill", 4) it is said that (p. 247) "He himself [Jerome] chose for the tombstone a slab of Istrian pavonazzetto marble with golden veining", 5) that the engraving was carried out by a letterer from the Museum of Naples in Trajan characters", and 6) that "Jerome, too ill, was unable to attend the Council session in which the placing of the tombstone to Tiberius on the part of the bell tower overlooking the Gulf was finally approved, in third reading. And maybe it was a good thing for him: he would have been too emotional.” These are, as we will see later, all false news. 

15 Cerio, p. 240. 

16 Cerio, p. 244.

II

The exchange of letters between Capri and the United States should have served to shed light on Jerome's personality. Instead, his figure was becoming even more complex. The lawyer had expressed his intention to write the history of the first two centuries of the Roman Empire. But did he realize the difficulties he would face? Was he aware of the scarcity and fragmentary nature of the sources? Of the seven hundred and seventy Latin authors whose names we know, only thirty or so have survived as complete works. Of another hundred, we possess only fragments. Of the remaining six hundred, not a single line has survived. Moreover, this material is not uniformly distributed across time and space. Of certain geographical areas, we know little or nothing. Of some periods, we are completely ignorant. Jerome, in setting out to write the history of Rome, found himself in the position of a painter attempting to depict a landscape shrouded in fog.

This does not change the fact that Jerome had an original idea. Before him, no one had envisioned the possibility of scrutinizing the sources of ancient history using the techniques of modern courts. For the first time, the reliability of sources would be assessed with the methods used by American judges. A brilliant idea, if there had not been an obstacle to overcome: ancient authors operated with different intentions than ours. Their purpose was almost always moral; and it is not easy to understand ancient ethics with a mind clouded by two thousand years of Christian catechism. Not to mention that the sources themselves could have been deceived, (17) and that rhetoric had to be taken into account, which in ancient times dictated the rules of beautiful writing and public speaking. (18) Applying the method devised by Jerome would not have been easy.

The first step was the creation of a library. Jerome contacted the best booksellers in Naples, Rome, and other European cities (who quickly realized that this client spared no expense), and so in just two years he managed to assemble over four thousand volumes, including the main ancient and modern treatises on Roman history, collections of classical Greek and Latin sources, the best dictionaries, and the most important repertoires, including the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. Then he shut himself away at home and began compiling thousands of index cards and filling dozens of notebooks with notes. And as he worked, his appearance transformed. Somerset Maugham, who had met him when he was a robust young man with a full beard and black hair, would not have been able to recognize him. According to Mackenzie, “After ten years he took on the appearance of a prisoner. He was tall, thin, with a long, thin beard, and skin so white that in some places it was as transparent as a tallow candle. He wrote in a slow, laborious, somewhat Teutonic prose, but his conversation was light and even amusing. When he began working on the rehabilitation of Tiberius, he decided that, in order not to be too superficial, he must first write a great history of Roman ethics. He began this ‘magnum opus’ by accumulating books, studying, and taking notes. It still seemed frivolous to him to begin writing without having acquired a growing mass of knowledge. His friends were worried about his health, because he was now working all night and sleeping all day.” (19) At Villa Castello, “all the rooms, large and small, were full of books. There were piles of books on the floor. On every table were books with bookmarks of every shape. Jerome worked by moving between the many rooms, searching for the references he needed from time to time. Some days, if he had gone looking for a particular book, Yetta would take ten minutes or so to find it in some remote corner. Then she would emerge with her eyes half-closed, in slippers and her long gray dressing gown that reached the floor like a magician's.” (20)

17 Often, to reduce this risk, authors reported everything they had heard, in both senses. Hence the coexistence, in the same works, of conflicting versions.

18 Plutarch, in Parallel Lives, at the beginning of the biography of Alexander, explains: “I do not write a work of history, but biographies.” In other words, he recognizes that the rules of rhetoric do not bind him to the truth. His purpose is to teach virtues: magnanimity, decorum, moral fortitude, sacrifice, the ability to fight and to perform a noble deed. The reader was to learn to hate the vices—pettiness, falsehood, meanness, cynicism—that corrupt man.

19 VF, pp. 104-106.

*    *     *

The strength of character that Jerome was demonstrating in his work as a writer had been passed down to him by his ancestors, originally from Trumansburg, a village in upstate New York located about a hundred kilometers from the southern shore of Lake Ontario. His grandfather owned a farm in St. Clair County, not far from Detroit, and worked the land himself along with his five children. (21) The youngest of these, David (22) (or Dave), had already had to abandon his studies at the age of sixteen to go and help his brother Tiff, who was in the lumber business. The work was tiring and not without danger: the logs of the trees cut in the forests of the Great Lakes had to be dragged downstream by the current of the St. Clair River. Getting hundreds of floating logs over rocky obstacles and waterfalls was no easy task. In America at that time, those who possessed adaptability, initiative, and the ability to face difficulties made their fortune. One had to be ready to change professions and seize every opportunity. After amassing a small nest egg, the two brothers rented a steamboat and began transporting passengers and cargo along the St. Clair River and Lake Erie, reaching as far as Buffalo. Dave served as captain, while Tiff took care of management. In January 1853, Dave turned twenty-four, the right age to fend for himself. He left Tiff and set out for California, where he purchased a mining claim in Marysville, a town north of Sacramento at the foot of the Sierra Nevada. To reach the gold, he began digging a tunnel that would penetrate over two hundred meters into the bowels of the mountain. At the same time, he began a business, procuring and selling the prospectors the myriad items they needed. His digging did not reach the gold-bearing aquifer, (23) but Dave made up for it, earning a good deal of money in the trade. He then sold the claim and returned to Michigan, settling in Saginaw where he opened a lumber and building materials shop.

20 Ibid., p. 106.

21 A sheet listing the family's marriages, births, and deaths from 1780 onward is found in Jerome's copy of the Bible now held by the University of Michigan Library.

22 See the biography of David H. Jerome in the Portrait and Biographical Album, Ingham & Livingston Counties, Michigan, pp. 165-166, (www.MemorialLibrary.com).

23 He later learned that he would only have to dig another hundred yards to reach a very rich deposit.

In 1859, he married and had three children, two of whom died in infancy. A third child, Thomas Spencer, or Tom, was born in February 1864, and as a precaution, he was raised in a safe environment. Jerome did not become a spoiled child only because his mother, Lucy Amelia Peck, (24) who was president of the Saginaw reading club, was able to guide him toward study and a love of books, while his father instilled other qualities in him. Tom's father was, in fact, friendly, generous, and willing to help others, and a highly persuasive speaker. These qualities allowed him to embark on a brilliant political career, first as a Saginaw city councilor, then as a Republican senator, and finally in 1881 as governor of the state of Michigan.

Enrolling at the University of Michigan, Tom studied Latin with Professor Charles Mills Gayley (25) and graduated in 1885 with a law degree. Two years later, he earned his doctorate from Harvard University. He could have followed his father's path and pursued a political career, but he chose to become a lawyer. He accepted the offer of partnership in a prominent law firm and, aided by the generous monthly allowance his father provided, rented an elegant apartment in Detroit. Thanks to his social standing, he had no difficulty becoming a member of the Witenagemote, an exclusive club "dedicated to the promotion of the arts and culture," where he made many friends. For ten years, he then lived a blissful bachelor's life. Among his clients were a then-small pharmaceutical company, Parke-Davis, which produced herbal medicine pills, and a stove factory that employed over a thousand workers. In the sheds of the Detroit Stove Works, iron, bronze, and brass were melted down, and metal molds were made. (26)

24 See the biographical sketch of Lucy Jerome by Anna Mae Maday, in Saginaw Images, Hoyt Public Library, Saginaw, Michigan, September 2000. 

25 See, in The Nation of Detroit, June 18, 1914, the obituary of Jerome by W.F. Bade: “Among those who followed Mr. Jerome’s career with great interest was Professor Charles Mills Gayley, now chairman of the English literature department at the University of California. It was in the early eighties, when he was professor of Latin at Michigan University, that Jerome benefited from his stimulating teaching.” On April 5, 1914, nine days before his death, Jerome had sent Gayley a copy of Roman Memories with the dedication: “Remembering the ease with which he could blend wit with erudition and erudition with wit.” Edwin Cerio, on some unknown basis, believed that Jerome did not know Latin: “Having never learned Latin, Jerome must have told himself, in that very polished English of his perfect style, that no American is a prophet outside his own country. Cerio” P. 245. 

26 It was that experience gained in the metalworking industry that later helped Detroit become the world capital of the automobile industry.

At the Witenagemote Club, Tom met Charles Lang Freer (27), a self-made man who had made his way in the worlds of industry and finance and who would become famous as an art collector. The two became friends partly because Charlie, like Tom, had chosen to remain a bachelor. When asked why he didn't marry, Charlie replied: "The modern American woman, with her ideas about independence, rights, extravagance, dress, and other diabolical tendencies, would frighten any reasonable person." Tom jokingly added that Charlie, with his passion for Oriental art, could only marry a Japanese woman. The friendship between Freer and Jerome was based on the complimentarity of their personalities. Charlie was older—eight years older than Tom—and possessed experience and authority. But, born in a small village to a poor family, he was socially a parvenu. Tom, on the other hand, belonged to a family that was, by American standards, almost aristocratic. He was the son of a governor and had studied at Harvard. His grandfather, Horace Jerome, was born in Detroit in 1780, when the city was still an Indian possession under British control. (28)

Having had to abandon his studies at fourteen, Charlie was culturally self-taught. Only now, through travel, was he able to learn the things he hadn't been able to learn in school, which explained why travel held such an irresistible fascination for him. In any case, he possessed the exceptional ability to absorb, almost by osmosis, the qualities of the people he came into contact with. From Hecker he had learned the ways of conducting big business, from Jerome he had learned the rules of conduct, and from the great orientalist Fenollosa he would later assimilate the fundamental concepts of art criticism.

Charlie acted like a sort of older brother to Tom, and was generous with advice. Among other things, he urged him not to forget the value of money. He knew that value, having started working as a laborer in a cement factory at the age of fourteen. He had been forced to struggle to survive, and the sacrifices had taught him a lot. His fortune began in 1873, when at seventeen he was hired as payroll manager for the New York, Kingston & Syracuse Railroad. He would have ended up working as an accountant his entire life if fate had not placed him in touch with “Colonel” Frank J. Hecker, an agent for the most important American railroad: the Union Pacific Railroad. 

27 See the Biographical Essay on Charles Lang Freer by Leila Mechlin in the Dictionary of American Biography (American Council of Learned Societies, 1928–1936).

28 United States troops captured Detroit on July 11, 1796.

29 Hecker had acquired the rank of colonel when he joined the Union army at the age of eighteen, and had never abandoned it since.

In 1876, Hecker bought shares in a small railroad company, the Eel River Railroad, and asked Freer if he wanted to work with him. Eel River owned only sixty miles of track, and its train—consisting of one locomotive, sixteen freight cars, and six passenger cars—ran back and forth from Chicago to Indianapolis. (30) Freer accepted the offer and became Hecker's partner. Three years later, the two moved to Detroit, where they created a railroad car company, the Peninsular Car Company. Business boomed, and Hecker and Freer were soon in a position to absorb their main competitor, the Michigan Car Company.

When he met Jerome in 1887, Freer was already wealthy. In Detroit, he owned a beautiful home next to Hecker's on elegant East Ferry Avenue. (31) Freer's house, relatively small but tasteful, had been designed by a good architect. Hecker's, on the other hand, resembled a Loire castle. (32) It had forty-nine rooms, all with marble floors. In 1891, Jerome and Freer, along with nine other friends, founded the Yondotega in Detroit, an extremely snobbish and exclusive "gentlemen's club," (33) where women were barred and business discussions were forbidden. The well-stocked bar, the excellent cuisine, and the excellent company encouraged Tom to spend much of his time there. After lunch, he never missed a game of billiards, and in the evening he sat down at the poker table. (34)

Tom suffered a devastating blow in 1897, when his parents died within months of each other. The simultaneous death of parents is always a tragic event, especially for an only child. Add to this the fact that Tom was extremely attached to his mother, and it becomes clear why, suddenly finding himself alone in the world, he began to be tormented by agonizing doubts. For the first time, he experienced anxiety, uncertainty, and fear of the future. Life, until then faced with defiance, now seemed meaningless. He suffered from insomnia, and spent hours at night tossing and turning in bed, asking himself questions he knew he could not answer. He was thirty-three: an age at which he should have proven his abilities, yet he was still wondering if he had chosen the right career. The legal profession no longer appealed to him, and the prospect of a future of mediocrity seemed unbearable. And then, ignoring Charlie's warnings, he tried to drown his sadness with alcohol, but that only made things worse. That night he came home drunk, knowing he'd wake up the next day with nausea and a migraine.

30 Saarinen, p. 121. 

31 On East Ferry Avenue and the Freer and Hecker houses, see the article by Juanita Little and Tim Summers in The Detroit News of June 19, 2001: “East Ferry, Avenue of Dreams.”

32 The Chateau de Chenonceaux was chosen as the model. See the entry “Colonel Frank Hecker House” in the National Register of Historic Places.

33 Suffice it to say that the bylaws allowed only sixty-five members, all of whom were members of the city’s high society.

34 The games permitted by the club’s rules were pedro (a type of briscola) and poker.

Coincidentally, Freer, too, was going through a crisis at the same time, having confirmed what he had already suspected: two different natures coexisted in his soul. He was undoubtedly a first-rate businessman, capable of exploiting skill and cunning, and of being tough when necessary, even ruthless at times. At the same time, however, he had realized his vocation as an aesthete, confirmed by his physical appearance. He was, in fact, of a fragile constitution and had delicate, almost feminine hands. He dressed elegantly, and no one could say they had seen him disheveled. He carefully selected the pink hue of his tortoiseshell pince-nez, the French wines in the cellar, the embroidered monograms on the linens, the blend of tea (two-thirds Ceylon, one-sixth Japanese, one-sixth orange pekoe), and he tastefully arranged the flowers in the guest room. (35) As an art connoisseur, he possessed an excellent eye, which had allowed him to amass a valuable collection of engravings, aquatints, and woodcuts, both ancient and modern. Yet he considered himself a beginner and was still uncertain. Until one day, in New York, at the home of lawyer Howard Mansfield, he saw a collection of etchings by the American painter James McNeill Whistler, and from that moment his relationship with art changed. The influence of ancient Japanese painting perceptible in Whistler's works made Freer understand that art was an eternal and universal phenomenon, resistant to attempts at schematization and not imprisonable by concepts of time and space. "My purchases of Whistler's works began the following day and have continued since then whenever I have had the opportunity." (36) At the same time, he also began collecting porcelain and Asian paintings, aiming to gain a better understanding of Eastern art.

Determined to meet Whistler, Freer traveled to London in March 1890. The prospect of meeting the artist filled him with pleasant excitement, but also with concern. The painter had a reputation for being unsociable, surly, and short-tempered. So when he found himself in his presence, he decided to behave in the manner he was familiar with: that of a business man. He explained that he intended to buy some paintings directly from him, cutting out the middleman. The artist was surprised but appreciated his frankness. From that day on, Freer became one of Whistler's best friends and clients. On August 2, 1894, he wrote to him: “In six weeks I will leave America for the Mediterranean for a year’s vacation. I will be in Venice in October, and probably in Paris in November. Then, after a taste of the Dutch winter, I will leave for India. If the war does not prevent it, I will also go to Japan, and plan to return home via San Francisco. I very much hope to be able to meet you in Paris. I am pleased to hear that you have made some new pastels and lithographs, and I am grateful to you for taking the time to send two proofs to my friend Hecker and to me.” (37)

35 Saarinen, p. 119. 

36 Merrill/1, p. 18.

37 Merrill/2, pp. 93-94

*     *     *

Little by little, Freer's intentions became clear. He wanted to assemble a large collection and combine Whistler's paintings with works of Eastern art, thus demonstrating the validity of his theory of "universal art." He would then build a museum to house the collection, and the entire thing would be bequeathed to the nation. This ambitious project, however, would require far greater financial resources than he had available. He therefore had to raise the necessary funds. In 1899, fortune favored him, offering him the opportunity to acquire thirteen rolling stock companies, which were on the verge of bankruptcy, at a low price. Demonstrating his exceptional skill once again, he managed to consolidate, restructure, and make those companies profitable within a few months. He then merged them with Peninsular and created a new company, which he named The American Car & Foundry Company. The new company employed five thousand workers and was extremely profitable, so much so that rumors began to circulate in Detroit that Freer, spurred by his success, was aiming higher. Banks had already let him know they were ready to finance future expansion when it was learned that Freer had sold American Car at a colossal profit. Even more astonished, however, were the friends who celebrated his forty-fifth birthday with him at Yondotega. That day, Freer revealed that he had decided to retire from business. Fate had entrusted him with the mission of creating a museum, and from now on, that would be the reason for his life.

While Freer had made his choice, Jerome hesitated. Prudence advised against abandoning a profession that provided a living and guaranteed a certain prestige. But something suggested taking the risk, to free himself from that oppressive uncertainty. If only he could have tried it, everything would have been easy. All he had to do was leave Detroit for three or four months and see how he reacted. Help in overcoming this dilemma came unexpectedly in February 1898, with the outbreak of the Spanish-American War. In Detroit, during the discussions that animated the dinners at the Yondotega, the general opinion was that the war would be short-lived. The superiority of the United States, which had landed as many as seventeen thousand men in Cuba, appeared overwhelming. However, as time passed, it was discovered that the Spanish were putting up stiffer resistance than expected. Only after five months of fierce fighting, when the outcome of the war seemed uncertain, a cavalry regiment commanded by Colonel Theodore Roosevelt succeeded in defeating the Spanish at the Battle of San Juan and forcing them to surrender. (39)

38 The casus belli was the explosion of the American battleship Maine, moored in Havana harbor on February 15, 1898, which caused over a hundred victims. The U.S. government blamed the bloody attack on Spanish intelligence services and declared war on Spain.

39 Roosevelt, having become a national hero, thus began the political career that was destined to lead him to the presidency of the United States.

Toward the end of July—just days after the signing of the armistice—Jerome met Hecker at Yondotega. The Colonel was about to leave for Cuba. Roosevelt had given him the task of repairing the railroads to facilitate troop movement. This might be Jerome's opportunity. Without hesitation, he told Hecker that, if he needed legal advice, he would be happy to lend a hand. He added that he spoke Spanish well and that a lawyer could be invaluable in any negotiations with the Cuban authorities. Freer agreed, saying he thought it was an excellent idea, and then Hecker, raising his glass, told Jerome to prepare to leave at the end of August. Upon arriving on the island, Jerome found that the Spanish—defeated, demoralized, and plagued by yellow fever—had neither the desire nor the ability to cause trouble. It followed that Jerome's mission would be practically a vacation. So it was, but when Tom and Hecker returned to Detroit in January 1899, the Colonel - at Freer's suggestion - still sent a note to Roosevelt to let him know that the lawyer Jerome had been of great help to him.

III

A few months after returning from Havana, in the spring of 1899, Jerome and Freer set off on a trip to Europe that—reading from the letters Freer sent to Hecker—almost has the feel of a honeymoon. The first letter (40) was sent around mid-May. (41) The two friends had embarked in Bremen aboard the Ems and were sailing in the Mediterranean: "Dear Colonel, Twenty-four hours have passed since we crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, and all is going well. I have paid my tribute to Neptune in due form, and I am ready to do the same to any other deity who deigns to grant me an audience, or declares himself ready to accept an offering or a penance from me. Tom behaves like a true sailor, and proves himself at sea to be the same dear friend I knew on land. This means that the days we will spend together will pass too quickly. We have not yet decided on the program. We do not know whether we will remain on board and continue directly to 'beautiful Naples,' or whether we will disembark a few days earlier for a short tour of southern Spain. We will decide tomorrow, but we are leaning towards the first option. The Ems presents the usual inconveniences of small ships, but the pleasure that awaits us will soon make any annoyances go by. I hope you are well and that, free from the toils of war, may you find time to dedicate yourself to your favorite activities."

The second letter (42) was dated June 5. Sent from Capri, it bore the letterhead of the Grand Hotel Quisisana: “Your letter of May 8th arrived yesterday. I was glad to hear from you. Thank you for taking care of the matter I wrote you about from New York. I was sorry to hear that William McMillan has closed the American Car & Foundry Company’s account at the State Bank. I am pleased, however, to note that he is beginning to assume his responsibilities without taking too much notice of the pressure from his partners. He evidently intends to manage things his own way. Personally, I can only say Amen, and I think you will agree with this attitude of mine. (43) Tom and I, to keep ourselves in shape, walk vigorously along the sunny paths of Capri. At noon the sun is strong, but before eleven in the morning (about which we know little) and after three in the afternoon (about which we know a lot) the conditions are excellent. With the sole exception of the trip to Sicily, we have so far remained within twenty miles of Naples! And we have not yet explored half of Capri. Not to mention Amalfi, Cava dei Tirreni, Paestum, Ischia, Caserta, Terracina, Gaeta, and the other places we glimpsed yesterday from the summit of Mount Solaro. I don't know when we'll leave for Rome and the north, and frankly I don't care to know. Capri, completely new to me, is delightful, especially in spring when the flowers and plants are wonderful. The weather is excellent, we can swim and row, and there are no crowds. Tom is a good walker, always ready for an excursion. I'm just afraid my pace is a little too slow for him! I've bought 100 bottles of wine, with instructions to ship them to me in Detroit. Please instruct Aitken to handle customs upon arrival.

40 PTSJ, 1.13,14-17.

41 The letter bears the annotation “Received June 6, 1899.”

42 PTSJ, 1.13, 9-12.

43 William McMillan had replaced Freer as president of the American Car & Foundry Company, and was president of the Yondotega Club. The letter suggests that Freer still felt attached to the company he had sold a few months earlier.

Freer and Jerome saw Capri as a sort of Arcadia, populated by docile, good-natured farmers and fishermen. A refuge for artists, poets, and musicians (some of whom disembarked for a day and stayed a lifetime), where love reigned and life was cheap. A hermitage where one could escape city life and lead a secluded existence, dedicated to the contemplation of nature, study, and the art of conversation. Capri's history was written in the landscape. The rocks revealed its remote belonging to the submerged Tyrrhenian Sea and documented the island's separation from the mainland. The deposits and stratifications of the soil bore traces of the terrifying earthquakes that had shaken the earth's crust millions of years before. The hollows that marked ancient sea levels attested to age-old phenomena of submersion and emersion. A landscape so charged with tormented beauty must, by necessity, have witnessed supernatural events.

It should be added, however, that perhaps Freer and Jerome chose Capri for another reason as well. Four years earlier, in 1895, Oscar Wilde's trial and the writer's conviction had sparked a crusade for "the moral purity of society" in both Europe and the United States. The campaign had created panic among homosexuals. The more famous and wealthy one was, the greater the risk of blackmail. Only in a few European locations did homosexuality not cause scandal. Ascona, Corfu, Taormina, and Capri were among them. This explains how the island in the Gulf of Naples became a refuge for Christian Wilhelm Allers and William Somerset Maugham, John Ellingham Brooks and Frederick Benson, Alfred Friedrich Krupp, Jacques Fersen, Norman Douglas, and many others.

Freer's third letter to Hecker, dated June 15, was sent from the Grand Hotel in Naples: "Thank you for your letter of May 18. It seems the General [Theodore Roosevelt] is making a grave mistake, but the roads of politics are more impenetrable than land access to the Blue Grotto. Tom and I are having a good time. Every now and then, of course, something goes wrong. But after we get angry we usually conclude that it was our own fault. We spend most of our time lounging, and pretending to be busy. If you saw us, you would say we were hopelessly idle. But idleness in this country is synonymous with happiness, and that is why we have chosen it. Some people complain: it is too hot, the sirocco is blowing, the south wind is murderous. Tom and I have discovered how to solve the problem: we sit quietly, and consider such complaints a good reason to order another drink. How we wish our friends Detroiters, currently stifled by the heat, could be here enjoying a siesta, diving from the rocks and taking a trip around the Bay of Naples on one of those lateen-rigged boats you may remember admiring from the balconies of this hotel.

I forgot to tell you that Tom is becoming a great collector. As you know, for a long time he devoted himself exclusively to collecting drinks. Now, between drinks, he collects other things. (47) Without his permission—he's not with me today—I can't give you more information. I do, however, feel authorized to tell you that he spends his evenings sorting and cataloging his selections. With the exception of a couple of trips to Sicily and Paestum, we haven't yet traveled more than twenty miles from the pier where we disembarked from the 'Ems'. If it were up to me, I'd stay in Capri until boarding the ship that will take me home. I'd like it to be old Vesuvius wishing me a good trip with a few puffs of smoke and a spurt of lava. But Tom doesn't know Rome or Florence, and I'm naturally pleased to see those cities again. Besides, I absolutely must go to London. So soon we will leave the dangerous streets of Naples, and go to seek new pleasures (and ask the Pope for forgiveness) in the ancient city of the Caesars.

I've taken the liberty of having some of our purchases shipped to your address. Please pay the shipping and customs fees in advance and keep everything safe until we return.

Writing that "the roads of politics are more impenetrable than land access to the Blue Grotto," Freer was alluding to the attempt, undertaken a decade earlier by American Colonel John Cly Mackowen, to make the famous cave accessible from the mainland. Mackowen was interested in the venture as the owner of the land above, which contained the remains of a Roman villa. Convinced that the villa had once been connected to the cave, he had begun excavation to restore the ancient land access. But the project had provoked protests from boatmen, who saw their monopoly at risk, and had been blocked by the municipal authorities.

47 It's difficult to understand what Freer is referring to when he writes that Tom "now collects other things between drinks." The manner in which he addresses the subject raises the suspicion that it was an illegal operation. Perhaps Jerome was purchasing archaeological finds from clandestine excavations in Naples, with the help of archaeologist Francis Willey Kelsey, a professor at Michigan University who had just completed the English translation of August Mau's Guide to Pompeii. There are elements that would seem to support this hypothesis. Kelsey, who the following year would become director of the American School of Classical Studies in Rome, was in Naples in the summer of 1899 with his colleague Walter Dennison to finalise the purchase, by Michigan University, of the collection of the Pozzuoli canon De Criscio. Hundreds of Greek and Latin inscriptions on marble, terracotta, and lead from the Campi Flegrei were exported to America on that occasion and ended up in what is now the Kelsey Museum in Ann Arbor.

The fourth letter (48), dated June 27, was sent from Rome, from the Grand Hotel du Quirinal: “We had understood, reading the European newspapers, that the American stock market was going through a difficult time. Now your letters confirm it. We must seize opportunities when they arise, and be satisfied with the results. The weather here is perfect, and everything is going well. The nosebleed, which bothered me a few days ago, is a thing of the past. I am well now; and Tom, who is otherwise very well, has turned black as coal.”

The text of a fifth letter (49) from Freer, on the letterhead of the Hotel Danieli in Venice, is dated July 7: “I have purchased an 18th-century porcelain statuette, which I have had sent to your address. Please arrange for customs clearance and entrust it to Aikman, who will look after it until my return. It is very fragile, so it would be best to ask Harry to be present when the package is opened. It cost me 350 lire. I enclose the invoice. Tom and I will leave Venice tomorrow, heading for Geneva via Como. From Geneva we will continue to London via Paris, where we will stop for a day or two. I expect to arrive in London around the 15th. Italy has been generous to us, perhaps more generous than we have been to ourselves. We have had a great time, are in excellent health, and have never quarreled so far. Tom’s collection is now complete!”

In Florence, I saw some old friends at the Uffizi and the Bargello; and in Venice, at Santa Maria dei Frari and San Zaccaria. The small marble portrait of Tuscany and Bellini's Madonna remain my favorite Renaissance works; though from a less personal perspective, Raphael and Botticelli equal and perhaps surpass my little friends. We read few newspapers and rarely meet Americans, which means we're not up to date on what's happening in our country, but we hope everything is going well.

The last letter, (50) at the conclusion of that trip to Italy, is dated July 21 and appears to have been sent from London: “We left Venice, and after visiting the Italian and Swiss lakes and stopping in Paris, we arrived in London, which is the warmest place we have yet encountered. Tom will embark in Liverpool on August 3rd on a Dominion Line ship bound for Montreal. I have booked a cabin on the ‘Lucania,’ which leaves Liverpool on August 12th. I expect to arrive in Detroit around the 22nd. We are both in excellent health, and so satisfied with our Italian experience that London has almost seemed ugly to us.”

48 PTSJ, 1.13, 24-28.

49 PTSJ, 1.13, 30-33.

50 PTSJ, 1.13, 35-38.

*     *     *

In the autobiographical note compiled by Jerome on October 9, 1910, for the Michigan University Alumni Association, (51) it is stated that Jerome had been an American Consular Agent in Sorrento from 1900 to 1901. This led Weber to believe that, before buying the villa on Capri, Jerome had spent a year in Sorrento. However, this was not true, as the following dates prove:

1) The decision to buy Villa Castello was made by Freer and Jerome in late 1899, immediately after their return to America.

2) The check for twenty thousand lire from the Guaranty Trust bank of New York, signed by Freer and sent to Capri, was issued on 7 November 1899.

3) The “power of attorney to sell” (52), issued to Ignazio Cerio by the old owner, the American Allan Mac Lane Hamilton, was dated 21 August 1899.

4) The purchase contract for Villa Castello by Freer and Jerome was drawn up in Capri on 13 February 1900 (53).

51 PTSJ, 1.4, 1.

52 Attached to the sales contract.

53 ANN. Deed of sale, notary Ciro Borrelli, No. 1981 of the Notarial Register. The owner, the American citizen Allan Mac Lane Hamilton, had issued power of attorney to Dr. Ignazio Cerio. The agent for Jerome and Freer, who were not in Italy at the time, was the painter Charles Caryl Coleman. The deed was drawn up "in Via Supportico, at the address of Mr. Charles Caryl Coleman," in the presence of the witnesses "Vincenzo Iodice di Andrea, carpenter, and Giovanni Ferraro di Pasquale, municipal employee."

The truth is that Jerome, after having purchased a villa in Capri, had no need to reside in Sorrento. (54) In fact, Jerome had submitted an application to the State Department on January 17, 1900, asking to be appointed Consular Agent in Sorrento, but he had chosen that location for the simple fact that Capri, frequented mainly by Germans and Scandinavians, did not have a U.S. consular office. Jerome's application, supported by a close friend of Freer, Senator McMillan (who put pressure on Secretary of State Hay), was granted without difficulty. There was only one Department official who protested, maintaining that Jerome "should reside in Sorrento, or resign." McMillan then took action again, managing to have a consular agency created in Capri on January 23, 1901. The responsibility was entrusted to Jerome, and thus the problem was solved. (55)

*     *     *

The reasons that drove Freer and Jerome to buy the villa may seem incomprehensible at first glance. Even Weber could not explain them and asked himself: (56) "What was the purpose of the purchase? Certainly not to limit themselves to using the villa for two or three weeks a year, during the summer holidays. Even a millionaire like Freer, willing to invest large sums in the purchase of a painting or a vase he had fallen in love with, would not have considered such a waste of money." Weber's reasoning, however, fails to take into account the fact that Capri was a magical place, which as such encouraged people to perform somewhat crazy actions. What, for example, about Tom's idea of ​​"chartering a yacht, filling it with half a dozen intelligent friends, and inviting them to attend a symposium that would last a week, while a copyist would transcribe their conversations"? (57) Charlie had accepted the strange proposal, "curious only to discover in which direction the talk would take flight, fearful only that it might later be disseminated beyond the circle of followers." (58) Who can estimate the price of happiness? Both Freer and Jerome had months, not weeks, at their disposal; they were free from ties, had ample financial resources, and could theoretically have lived anywhere in the world. In their utopian vision, Capri was the island of happiness.

Someone must have told Jerome the story of Villa Castello. It was probably Allan MacLane Hamilton himself who told him, the same man who had sold it to him. Hamilton had purchased it two years earlier from Walter Anderson, the husband of the Pre-Raphaelite painter Sophie Anderson, a member of the Royal Academy in London and famous for the modest chastity of her female nudes. Hamilton had also told him that, because of the white hair that made her resemble a cauliflower, Sophie Anderson was known among the people of Capri as the "Lady of Cavolosciore." Walter Anderson was, as Edwin Cerio reports, “also a painter, but not a great painter. He was little more than five feet tall, while she, a woman of imposing stature and bearing, reached almost six feet. The natives, finding the title ‘husband of the Lady of Cavolosciore’ too long to maintain a horticultural classification for the couple of painters, had ended up calling him ‘Rafaniello’. His resemblance to a radish, however, was limited to his face, all red, ending in a pointed white beard” (60). In the doorway of the house, Jerome noticed the presence of four peepholes placed at different heights, and this too had to be explained to him. The holes, drilled by Walter Anderson, allowed for the advance inspection of visitors' clothing. In this way, a repetition of the incident which had once occurred at the “strawberry and cream party” given by the Andersons at the beginning of each spring, when an eccentric and slightly tipsy Englishman had shown up “naked except for a monocle and a top hat” (61), would have been avoided.

54 Although he certainly made more than one trip to Sorrento, perhaps to visit his famous compatriot, the writer Marion Crawford. Born in 1854 in Bagni di Lucca to American parents, Crawford began writing in 1883, soon after settling in Italy. Having become famous, he produced a best-seller every twelve months. The success of his novels had allowed him to accumulate more than a million dollars. In Sorrento, he lived in luxury. He owned a magnificent yacht, a princely villa, and was served by thirteen servants. In Crawford's guest book, however, there is no trace of Jerome's name or that of Freer. I thank Antonino De Angelis who kindly carried out the check.

55 This information is the result of research conducted by Susan Hobbs in the State Department archives, the results of which were communicated to Giorgio Weber in the ARE letter of February 26, 1987.

56 ARE. Letter from Giorgio Weber to Susan Hobbs, April 1, 1987.

57 CLFP, letter from Freer to Jerome, December 23, 1905.

58 Ibid.

59 ANN. Deed executed by notary Borrelli on July 19, 1897, registered in Sorrento on July 21, No. 17.

*     *     *

Several inaccuracies have been reported regarding the manner in which the transfer of ownership of Villa Castello occurred. It has even been written that Jerome had made the purchase from Detroit without seeing the property, while drunk, by sending a telegram. (62) The truth is that Freer and Jerome, unable to be present at the signing of the purchase contract, granted power of attorney to a friend, the American painter Charles Coleman. The artist, who was appreciated by tourists for his watercolors of views of the Gulf of Naples and moonlit panoramas of Capri, often set figures and scenes from the Roman era in Capri landscapes, obviously with commercial intent. But this did not prevent Freer from discovering its true value. In more demanding oil paintings, Coleman indeed displayed considerable talent. It was no coincidence that he was allowed to exhibit at the Royal Academy in London and collaborated in 1893 on the decorations for the World's Fair in Chicago. (63) Born in 1840 in Buffalo, the dean of the island's American residents, Coleman had lived for years in the Villa Narcissus, about fifty meters from Villa Castello. His home had been a guesthouse for the monastery of the Sisters of Saint Teresa, but he had transformed it, blending Renaissance with Moorish and Pompeian styles, filling it with objects he collected and—when the opportunity arose—sold. The various rooms displayed classical and medieval sculptures, brocades and holy water fonts, portraits and photographs of the women who had loved him. His long hair and flowing beard gave Coleman a romantic look, which he accentuated by usually dressing in white, with a pink brocade vest with topaz-colored buttons and a crimson silk scarf tied around his neck with a cameo ring (64). A fresh rose in his buttonhole added the finishing touch. At home, he wore a caftan that made him resemble a biblical prophet. He had a reputation as an unrepentant womanizer, and vanity drove him to keep his age a secret. In the summer, he bathed at Piccola Marina, and anyone who saw him in his bathing suit could see that at seventy, he retained the physique of a thirty-year-old. He lived peacefully and without worries: “Every spring he managed to sell enough paintings to support himself all year. He hosted whoever happened to be there. If he happened to spend too much on clothes, or give too many champagne dinners, he would get into debt. Then, as soon as he could, he would sell a precious object to some American tourist, and start over. He had an impressive vitality, but little intelligence. He would have lived to be a hundred, continuing to arouse the jealousy of the husbands of many beautiful women.” (65)

60 Cerio, pp. 213-214.

61 Ibid.

62 In a collection of short stories entitled Cosmopolitans (London 1923), Maugham recounts that Mayhew (aka Jerome): “was at the club one evening with a group of friends who had been drinking a little too much. One of them, recently returned from Italy, began talking about a house he had seen in Capri, which stood on the top of the hill, overlooked the Bay of Naples, and had a large shady garden. ‘It looks interesting,’ Mayhew said. ‘Is it for sale?’ ‘Everything in Italy is for sale.’ ‘Let’s send a telegram and make an offer.’ ‘But what will you do with a house in Capri?’ ‘I’ll go and live there,’ said Mayhew. He had a form brought, wrote the telegram, and sent it. The reply arrived within hours. The offer had been accepted. Maugham's fictional account was repeated by Edwin Cerio (Cerio, pp. 240-241), but was denied by Weber in a letter, dated February 21, 1985, to Antonio Esposito (CC, Jerome folder): “Cerio's assertion, in one of his books, that Jerome had bought Villa Castello by cable from Detroit, is another of the many nonsense found in Cerio's books.”

63 Cfr. A. Basilico Pisaturo, Pittori a Capri(1850-1950), Capri 1997, pp. 39, 147-152.

64 VF, p. 31.

65 VF, pp. 31-32.

*     *     *

On April 14, 1900, Jerome held a farewell party at the Yondotega Club to bid farewell to friends, (66) and soon after left for Capri, where he was joined by Freer at the end of August. (67) On September 6, he wrote to Hecker: (68) “The crossing was pleasant and enjoyable. Clean ship. Good service. Excellent food. Friendly company. A crowd of New England girls on their way to Florence to finish their musical studies. Tom met me in Naples. He came aboard and rushed me through customs. We slept in Naples aboard a ten-meter cutter, chartered by Tom for the season, and the next morning sailed for Capri. What an ideal way to reach the island! Since then, that is, since Saturday, we have occupied our time by familiarizing ourselves with the house and garden. I have also made new acquaintances, and revisited the places visited last year. There are friendly people on Capri and a small club (somewhat resembling the ‘Yon’), as well as a couple of cafes where foreigners meet. Messages and errands can be exchanged with the mainland by telegraph or mail, and the frequency of the boats is satisfactory.”

The house is large, comfortable, beautiful, equipped with every comfort. It contains antique marble floors which, if exported to America, would allow us to recoup the price paid for the entire property. The villa, once the renovations are completed and the furnishings are complete, will become imposing and prestigious. The garden is even more attractive than Tom described. In its present condition, it is already very pretty. A year of care and it will be splendid. And there is more good news. Our dear Freddie Mann has just bought a house adjacent to ours. You would be surprised to see Tom! He has never been in a more perfect physical and mental condition. He loves living here. His only regret is missing old friends.”

66 The information comes from Freer's diary consulted by Susan Hobbs. Cfr. ARE, letter from Hobbs to Weber of 12 August 1986.

67 Letter from Freer to Whistler of 27 June 1900: “How is the Paris Exposition? The American newspapers have written flattering things about your self-portrait. I would very much like to see it. I plan to be in Capri in September, and to return via Paris and London.” At the Exposition Universelle Whistler received two Grand Prix (Merrill/2, p. 128).

68 PTSJ, 1.13, 39-42.

69 Jerome assisted Mann in the purchase. On August 22, 1900, Mann went to Jerome's home and, in the presence of notary Ciro Borrelli (ANN, No. 2043 of the notarial register), declared that, "being forced to leave this Municipality for his personal business," he appointed as his attorney general "his friend and acquaintance Thomas Spencer Jerome, Consular Agent of the United States of America," specifically for the purpose "of purchasing in the name, on behalf of, and with the principal's money, the building located in Capri on Via Castello, composed of a ground floor and upper floor, several rooms and accessories, currently owned by Liborio Di Benedetto son of Andrea, born in Amalfi and domiciled in Sorrento." The purchase contract (ANN, No. 2046 of the notarial register) was signed on September 2, at Villa Castello, by notary Borrelli.

“Freddie Mann” was Dr. Frederick Wharton Mann, an old friend of Freer and Jerome, also a founding member of the Yondotega Club. Although born in Scotland, Mann had lived so long in Detroit that he could be considered an American. Norman Douglas remembered him as “a stocky little man with a red, clean-shaven face, dark hair, and blue eyes. His hands were remarkably small, and he was also ambidextrous—two great advantages, he said, for a surgeon.” (70) Mann was a cultured man with a wide range of interests. Douglas, describing his passion for prehistory, recalled that “he bought every book published on the subject, and followed every new discovery and every new theory with expert judgment. He spoke of the Magdalenians as if they were people of yesterday, as one speaks of the Stuarts or the Hanoverians.” (71) Mann was also passionate about literature, and in Capri he spent his time dabbling in translating Petrarch's sonnets into English.

Villa Castello was so named because it was located on the road to Castiglione, Capri's ancient medieval fortress. It was about fifty meters from Villa Narcissus, and even less from the church of the Savior and the convent of the Teresian nuns. Its entrance door was located in a dark vaulted underpass, reached after a series of narrow, winding streets. Around 1880, the Anderson couple had made that villa "the cultural center of Capri, the hub of intellectual, social, and artistic life in the small Capri world." (72) Sophie Anderson had also taught painting to Dr. Ignazio Cerio, who, thanks to those lessons, had learned to create small female portraits that he called "ideal heads," depicting "girls with eyes turned to the sky and one hand holding back the sigh of their heaving breasts." (73) Dr. Cerio knew how to work metals, melting bronze, copper, and zinc, and producing new alloys from them. As a gesture of courtesy, “he had cast all the door and furniture handles for the Andersons’ house” (74). Even the marble floors so admired by Freer were his work. During the Andersons’ time, Dr. Cerio, every evening after dinner, “went to Villa Castello and there for two or three hours every night – for fourteen years in a row – worked as a marble worker” (75). It was he who had “designed, chiseled, polished, and waxed every piece of the polychrome marble floors that adorn all the rooms, the courtyard, the cellars, and the garden paths of Villa Castello” (76).

71 Ibid.

72 Edwin Cerio, The Life and Figure of a Man, Rome 1921, p. 18.

73 Ibid.

74 Ibid., p. 19.

75 Ibid.

76 Ibid.

Upon arriving in Capri, Freer was surprised to discover that Jerome wasn't alone. Tom had brought a housekeeper with him from Detroit, a very beautiful young woman in her early twenties, with a somewhat dark complexion. The woman's name was Henrietta Sophia Rupp, or Yetta. Freer noticed that Yetta's room was adjacent and connected to Tom's. Nevertheless, as a man of the world, he pretended not to understand. Yetta, on the other hand, was in her place, taking care of the house and behaving like a true housekeeper. But more than anything, Freer had more important things to worry about at that moment, having found a letter from Whistler in Capri urging him to expand his collection: "I wish you had a really nice Whistler collection. Perhaps the Whistler collection." (77) At the time, Freer owned around a hundred works by Whistler, but the majority were prints and drawings, as well as a dozen watercolors and pastels. He'd only been able to afford two oil paintings, which had cost him dearly. Now, if Whistler agreed to offer him preferential prices, he could amass a truly fabulous collection of oils. And besides Whistler, Freer was also eager to meet the great orientalist Ernest Francisco Fenollosa. As for Yetta, Charlie was sure it was a mere infatuation. Tom would soon get bored and send her back to Detroit.

Tom, however, was madly in love with Yetta and would have married her if it had been possible. Above all, he felt guilty about Charlie. The villa on Capri had been purchased on the basis of an agreement that Tom had broken by attempting to turn the partnership into a ménage-à-trois. Of course, if, as Weber suspected, Yetta had been of mixed race, the guilt would have been worse. Detroit was, admittedly, governed by the Michigan Civil Rights Act, which prohibited racial discrimination, but that wouldn't have stopped "polite society" from ostracizing a gentleman who married a black woman. But it would have been enough for Yetta to have been of lower rank or Catholic to have made her "unacceptable" to the world to which Jerome and Freer belonged.

Whatever the problem, Jerome solved it by resorting to a legal loophole. Before leaving for Capri, he guaranteed Yetta, through a written agreement, financial security almost equal to that afforded to a wife. On April 10, 1900, Thomas Spencer Jerome (born David) and Henrietta Sophia Rupp (born Leonardo), both born in Michigan, signed a contract that established the "housekeeper's" lifetime allowance and the inheritance to which she would be entitled in the event of the "employer's" death. The deed was also cited in Jerome's will, drawn up in Capri on July 25, 1911, which, among other things, instructed the executors to invest twenty thousand dollars in stocks and bonds so that Yetta could enjoy an annual income, in addition to other benefits such as five hundred dollars in cash "for the caretaking of my property and for her repatriation expenses," five hundred volumes from the library selected "from among the non-classical books," and the right to occupy Villa Castello for a year. The extent and nature of the commitments are sufficient to dispel any doubt as to the true nature of the relationship. And the fact that Jerome assigned her five hundred volumes from his precious library demonstrates that Yetta was capable of appreciating books, and therefore not ignorant.

77 Merrill/1, p.46.

A few weeks after arriving in Capri, Freer wrote again to Hecker (78), and from the tone of the letter, where Yetta is not mentioned, it is clear that up to that point her presence had not created any problems: "It has been nearly three weeks since I arrived, and every hour has been delightful. Tom and I spent a couple of days in Naples, where we purchased furniture and other household goods. We were fortunate, because we found the right things. Fortune helped us by letting us discover a splendid old convent that is being demolished. We will use the carved wooden furniture to furnish the large study, the smoking room, and the reception room. The marble well, complete with wrought-iron support for the pulley, also comes from the same convent. We will place it in the garden and use it for the cistern. Then she will return to doing the work she did in the convent. Apart from this short trip, I have not left Capri. We have much to do here. We must walk, row, swim, pick flowers." wild animals, busy ourselves in the garden, tidying up the house, getting to know the island's inhabitants and - most important of all - getting ten hours of sleep a day.

The grapes are ripe, and the harvest has begun. The figs are just right. There is an abundance of fruit and vegetables. The hotels are preparing for the autumn season. In a month the crowds will arrive. Fortunately, Tom has discovered a secret route, thanks to which he can come and go avoiding the tourists. No one disturbs him, and nothing interferes with his private life. He is happy, and rightly so, since the house is perfect and he has new friends who respect him and help make his life interesting. He does what he likes, free from criticism or interference, and as soon as he feels ready he can undertake the work he has in mind. His health is excellent, and I have never seen him in such good spirits. Coleman, who could not be more courteous, acts as our guide and advisor, and is a true friend. Then there is another artist who lives here, Alberto White, half Capri, equally pleasant. And a third neighbor, whose name is Trower, is also a "right" person. All three live practically a stone's throw away. Freddie Mann's house is so close that he and Tom can shake hands from their respective properties. I'll be leaving for the north in early October. I plan to spend a couple of days in Florence, then a few hours in Paris, and finally London, where the length of my stay will depend on circumstances. In any case, I expect to be in New York before October 25th.

78 Letter of September 19, 1900. PTSJ, 1.13, 42.

79 Possible allusion to the problems Jerome encountered in Detroit because of his relationship with Yetta.

80 From then on, Jerome therefore planned to devote himself to historical studies.

Charlie had stayed in Capri for a month, and during that time Yetta had behaved with tact and discretion. So everything had gone smoothly. On September 30, Freer wrote to Hecker (81): “The day after tomorrow my visit will end and I will leave for London, via Rome, Florence and Paris. I have not yet booked a cabin for the crossing. As soon as I do, I will let you know the name of the ship and the departure date. Apart from a couple of short trips, made to take care of some business in Naples, I have not moved from the island. Capri was so delightful that I did not want to leave. The pleasure of walking was enhanced by my knowledge of the place. The swims were splendid, the weather perfect, the scenery more interesting every day. We have undertaken to arrange the garden: next spring it will send into ecstasy all who see it. We have inserted two old wells, purchased from a convent in Naples. Above the new cistern there is now a pergola from which one enjoys a splendid view. This morning we signed the contract for the purchase of another piece of land: it will serve to improve both our property and Mann’s. The antique furniture purchased is starting to arrive in Naples. Within a few months, if all goes well, the villa will be furnished. Tom is well and happy. Our friends in Detroit, if they could see him, would approve of his decision to live in Capri."

Freer wanted to stop in London to meet Whistler. The reason for his stop in Paris was to visit the great Exposition Universelle, which celebrated the close of the nineteenth century. Inaugurated on April 14, the Exposition was much larger and more important than the four that had preceded it. (82) It contained sections dedicated to finance, the fine arts, agriculture, colonies, road communications, architecture, and navigation; but the great novelty was the extraordinary potential for applying electricity. On the Champ de Mars, a “Rue de Nations” had been built, overlooked by the pavilions of the great world powers; while a colossal Ballroom had been erected in front of the École Militaire. To visit the Exposition Universelle, Freer had had to walk dozens of kilometers. Leaving Paris, he wrote to Hecker that he was exhausted, (83) but this was not a serious matter: he would have had time to rest on the ocean liner during the return trip to America; and immediately after he would have set out to try to meet Fenollosa.

81 PTSJ, 1.13, 44-46.

82 Previous universal exhibitions had taken place in 1855, 1867, 1878, and 1889. The Eiffel Tower, the symbol of the 1889 Exposition, was to be demolished after twenty years.

83 Letter from London, October 16, 1900. Merrill/2, p. 25.

The only art historian for whom Freer truly admired was, in fact, Fenollosa. (84) This great orientalist, a popularizer of Asian culture in America, had lived for a long time in Japan, where he had also served as Minister of Fine Arts. (85) He had been appointed by the emperor himself when the abolition of the feudal system and the impoverishment of aristocratic families had begun to cause the destruction of Japan's cultural heritage. A reckless and hasty policy of Westernization had in fact caused the dispersion of many precious art collections. Fragile and delicate old master paintings (86) had been sold for next to nothing by their impoverished owners, ending up in second-hand dealers' shops. (87) The old master prints (which collectors would later fight over at dizzying prices) were used to package porcelain services shipped to Europe. Unfortunately, the art of that country was based on decorative effects that the Japanese no longer liked and were not yet understood by Europeans. Japanese painting tended to ignore shadows and three-dimensional aspects, preferring to highlight life and movement. This choice was incomprehensible to Westerners. Through patient indoctrination, Fenollosa had managed to avert disaster by making the Japanese rediscover their cultural roots. In 1890, the emperor thanked him, saying: "Thanks to you, my people have finally learned to appreciate the value of Japanese art." (88) Never before had a Westerner received such recognition in Japan.

In early November 1900, shortly after returning from Capri, Freer learned that Fenollosa, back in America, was on a lecture tour of various cities in the United States. This was the opportunity Freer had long awaited. He worked with influential friends to arrange the meeting, eventually meeting Fenollosa in New York, where he displayed his full charm. Three months later, in February 1901, the orientalist was his guest in Detroit, offering advice and discussing the strengths, characteristics, and any gaps in his collection.

84 The son of a Spanish musician, Fenollosa was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1853. While holding the chair of philosophy at the University of Tokyo, Fenollosa, more than anyone else, had contributed to the discovery in the West of the beauty and value of ancient Japanese painting.

85 Lawton, pp. 131-151.

86 Executed in ink and watercolor on paper or silk, the paintings usually took the form of screens, or kakemono (wall panels), or makimono (horizontal scrolls).

87 Saarinen, p. 134.

88 Ibid.

IV

Disgusted with municipalities, colonies, and every other place on the mainland, [Tiberius] took refuge on the island of Capri, separated from the extreme point of the promontory of Sorrento by a narrow inlet of sea about three miles wide. I believe that he was attracted above all by the solitude of that place. The sea surrounding the island, in fact, has no harbors or offers barely any shelter to small vessels, nor could anyone land there without being spotted by the sentries. In winter the climate is mild because the mountain shelters it from gusts of wind; whereas in summer, exposed as it is to the caress of the mistral and surrounded by the broad expanse of the sea, it is delightful. (Tacitus, Annals, IV, LXVIII).

Tiberius] returned again to the solitude of his rocky island, overcome by shame for his wicked lust which drove him, irresistibly and according to the custom of Eastern rulers, to rape free and noble youths. He was stimulated to this perverse passion by the beauty and physical grace of the victims: in some he was attracted by the innocence of their youth, in others by the glorious antiquity of their lineage. […] There were slaves charged with seeking out and forcibly bringing [to Capri] the victims. Gifts were reserved for those who showed themselves willing, threats for the rebellious. (Tacitus Annals, VI, I).

And he burned with greater and more shameful lust, such as can scarcely be believed, told or heard: he trained young boys, whom he called little fish, to dart between his thighs as he swam and to excite him with their tongues and bites. And he would also allow infants, already quite grown but not yet weaned, to be placed near his member, as if it were a nipple: to this lust he was led by nature and his age. (Suetonius, Tiberius, 44). 

A place where his massacres took place is still shown in Capri, the rock from which he ordered that the condemned, already subjected to long and refined tortures, be thrown into the sea in his presence, where the sailors of the fleet awaited them, who with poles and oars beat the bodies until not a remnant of life remained in any of them. (Suetonius, Tiberius, 62).

After Charlie's departure, Tom realized, for the first time, the gravity of his decision. Detroit, vanished on the horizon, was now part of another world. And with Charlie's departure, the last link to the network of friendships and social relationships that had always provided him with precious support in Detroit had been broken. Now that world no longer existed, and Yetta's presence was not enough to fill the void. Yetta was seductive, but physical pleasure was not enough. Topics for conversation were scarce. To distract himself and fill his time, Jerome took long hikes, during which he questioned himself, wondering if he had made a huge mistake. The trip to Mount Tiberius, where the ruins of the imperial villa stood, was his favorite walk. Once he set out for Villa Jovis without noticing that the weather was changing, and when he reached the summit he discovered that the sky had become covered with black clouds that raced and chased each other, driven by the south-westerly wind. From above he saw the stormy sea, covered by hundreds of waves crested with white foam that, one after another, crashed against the rocks. As he admired the scene, believing himself to be in complete solitude, he suddenly noticed a young girl descending a staircase of the imperial palace, moving barefoot toward him with the elegance of a goddess. Intrigued, he greeted her. She greeted him back. And so, in that surreal atmosphere, a strange conversation began. Carmelina explained in her dialect, of which the American could only grasp a few words, that she was poor but knew how to dance the tarantella, accompanying herself with the rhythm of the tambourine. She earned a little money dancing for tourists. To foreigners, she told fantastic stories of "hidden treasures," "diabolical caves," "miracles of St. Costanzo," mysterious apparitions of "monks of the Certosa" and "serpents and sirens." When Jerome jokingly asked her to describe Tiberio's appearance, Carmelina suddenly became serious: "If you don't believe in spirits, you can't understand anything about this Timberio story." And she confided in a low voice: "Timberio isn't dead. During the day he hides in the cellars, sometimes even in a barrel. Do you know that he comes here every night, and I see him with my own eyes? Maybe one day he'll give me the lottery numbers." (89)

*     *     *

Work is sometimes the best medicine, and Jerome began to fight the melancholy by working. He thought of writing a book on a particular aspect of ancient history. Using the techniques of psychology and his experience as a lawyer, and taking advantage of modern methodologies, he would have liked to subject historical sources to an unprecedented scrutiny. It would have been interesting to evaluate the reliability of the sources with the criteria and methods used in American courts; and to focus attention on the virtues of the Romans, or rather their vices. In the book, which he would have titled Roman Vice, (90) he would have devoted ample space to the figure of Tiberius, the emperor who, like him, had chosen to exile himself to Capri. (91)

89 Cf. Ettore Settanni, Miti, uomini e donne di Capri, Capri 1989, pp. 23, 24, 27. 

90 The title was later changed by Jerome, at the suggestion of the London publisher George H. Putnam, to Roman Morals. But the work, proving too ambitious, never saw the light of day. Some parts were published posthumously and abridged, edited by John Winter, in the form of a miscellany entitled Aspects of the Study or Roman History.

91 This brief biographical sketch of Tiberius follows the lines traced by Jerome in Roman Memories (pp. 220-247). The subsequent criticisms of the reliability of Tacitus and Suetonius also reflect Jerome's opinions and come from the same source.

In tracing a biography of Tiberius, he would begin with his childhood, when the boy's evident intelligence had induced his stepfather, the emperor Octavian Augustus, to devote himself to his education and to destine him to the service of the empire. Thus, Tiberius had become a skilled and courageous general, as well as a competent and honest manager of public affairs. (92) In 12 BC, Augustus, in the absence of rules regulating imperial succession, had designated Tiberius to succeed him on the throne, also choosing him as his son-in-law. He hoped in this way to keep his daughter Julia, an extremely ambitious woman, calm and avoid the risk of civil war. Tiberius was therefore forced in the "public interest" (93) to divorce the wife he loved, Vipsania (94), to marry Julia. (95) And from that moment his troubles began. The differences in character between Julia and Tiberius were enormous: Julia was a sensual and dissolute woman, devoted to pleasure, while Tiberius was an old-fashioned Roman who believed in the severity of morals. For twelve months, Tiberius tried to save his marriage. He did it for the good of Augustus and in the interests of Rome; but every effort was in vain. He therefore joyfully accepted Augustus's order, which allowed him to leave home to defend the empire's borders. He thus remained away from Rome for four years, while Julia indulged in her usual excesses. In 7 BC, Tiberius returned to Rome and received his second consulate. The following year, having just turned thirty-five, he obtained the postesty of tribune. The combination of the two offices practically placed him on Augustus's level in the government of the empire. Despite this, he was unable to feel fulfilled because his family situation had further deteriorated. Now Julia was openly cheating on him and, to humiliate him, was switching from one lover to another. Tiberius was desperate, especially since he risked being hit by the laws promulgated by Augustus against husbands who did not respond to marital infidelity. On the other hand, if he asked for a divorce, he would have offended his adoptive father's honor. There was only one way out: voluntary exile. So Tiberius, without explaining his reasons, in 6 BC, inciting the wrath of Augustus, who accused him of ingratitude, resigned from all public offices and took refuge on the island of Rhodes. Livia tried in vain to persuade him to change his mind. The Senate and his friends pleaded with him in vain. Nothing succeeded in making him back down.

92 The irreproachability of his conduct during that period was also recognized by Tacitus, who confirmed that Tiberius during those forty years had been "admirable in his behavior and highly esteemed."

93 The reason of state arose from the fact that the union of Augustus and Livia (both of whom had produced children from previous marriages) had proved sterile. Augustus had only one daughter, Julia, given to him by Scribonia, his first wife. Tiberius, on the other hand, was Livia's son.

94 Tiberius reluctantly obeyed, and secretly continued to love Vipsania, while avoiding meeting her.

95 Julia had married Agrippa, Augustus's right-hand man, and with him had produced five children. Agrippa had died in 12 BC, leaving Julia a widow at the age of twenty-seven.

96 In this regard, it was said that Julia had attempted, while Agrippa was still alive, to seduce Tiberius, who was an attractive man.

Tiberius's departure freed Julia even more, and to foment Augustus's anger, she passed on false information about Tiberius. She told him that her husband was plotting against him, and described the lustful orgies he was allegedly committing. In this way, she sought to instill hatred in her father, hoping to convince him to have Tiberius killed. The plan, concocted and effectively executed, was foiled by Livia, who prevented Augustus from sending assassins to Rhodes. In reality, it was Julia and her friends who were plotting to seize power. It would have been simple, taking advantage of Tiberius's absence, to have Augustus assassinated and have Julia's son by Agrippa, Gaius Caesar, acclaimed emperor (now of age). Fortunately, in 2 BC, when Augustus turned sixty, the conspiracy was uncovered. Furious with rage, the emperor ordered the killing of all the conspirators, including his daughter. But then he changed his mind. Mercy prevailed, and of the conspirators only Iulus Antonius, a young man to whom Augustus had granted many favors, was forced to commit suicide. Julia, who was thirty-seven years old, was banished to the island of Pandataria (now Ventotene), and remained there for five years before being exiled to Regium (now Reggio Calabria). (97)

Augustus did not like to acknowledge his own wrongs, and even after the discovery of the Julia conspiracy, he continued to harbor animosity toward Tiberius. He had been offended when Tiberius left Rome, and now he reproached him for not having revealed his daughter's wickedness. To punish him, he forced him to remain in Rhodes for another four years. And when he finally allowed him to return to Rome, he excluded him from all office for another two years. Only in 4 AD, after realizing that the empire was descending into chaos, was the old emperor forced, in the best interests of the state, to put aside his resentments and return power to Tiberius. It was a wise decision. From then on, during the next decade and until Augustus's death, order, discipline, and good administration returned to the empire.

97 A Regium Julia died in the same year as her father.

Tiberius succeeded Augustus in 14 AD. He was fifty-five years old and held the supreme office until his death. He died at the age of seventy-eight, and the story of his end deserves to be remembered. He was returning from Tusculum (Frascati), where he had visited his sister-in-law Antonia, Drusus' widow, and had stopped to spend the night in Misenum at a villa that had belonged to Lucullus. During the journey, he had attended hunting games on the Circeo promontory, in which he himself had amused himself by killing a wild boar. But the fight had exhausted him. He had sweated, caught a cold, and felt ill. Nevertheless, upon returning to his lodgings, he had insisted on respecting the ceremony, insisting on conversing with his guests and spending time with them after dinner. He wanted to hide his discomfort at all costs, but then his condition worsened and it was no longer possible to pretend. He then ordered to be taken to Capri, perhaps driven by a desire to die in his own bed. Or perhaps he hoped the air of Capri would do him good. But the sea was rough, and even if it had been calm, the sick man's condition would not have permitted the voyage. Seneca, who provides details of his final moments, recounts that as soon as he felt his end approaching, the emperor slipped the signet ring from his finger to pass it on to his successor. He held it in his hand, and everyone assumed he intended to give it to his nephew Caligula, who was present. Instead, after a few moments, he put it back on his finger, as if he had changed his mind, and for a few minutes lay still, as if thinking. Finally, he called his adjutant, and when he was slow in arriving, he attempted to rise from the bed. This last effort proved fatal. As he tried to rise, he lost his footing, floundered in vain, and collapsed facedown on the floor.

*     *     *

Jerome believed that the origin of Tacitus's falsehoods about Tiberius lay in the slanders spread in Rome by Julia during her husband's exile in Rhodes. He hypothesized that the reports of Tiberius's alleged orgies, after being brought to the attention of Augustus, ended up in the secret section of the Tabularium, the state archives. And that they remained hidden there for nearly a century until 97 AD, with the accession of Trajan, the secret state papers became accessible to historians. It was then that Tacitus, a member of the Senate and a friend of Trajan, had the opportunity to consult them. In doing so, however, he committed a double error. Not only did he accept Julia's fabricated falsehoods at face value, but he also failed to understand that they referred to the time in Rhodes. Only a forty-year-old—as Tiberius was during his time in Rhodes—would theoretically have engaged in such excesses, not a septuagenarian. And even Suetonius proved he hadn't been to Capri when he told the story of the sailors who finished off condemned prisoners hurled from the "Leap of Tiberius" with their oars. Thrown into that abyss, a body shattered on the rocks before reaching the sea. That legend, too, therefore, must have been related to the Rhodes period.

*     *     *

Jerome had no academic training, and he reasoned more like a lawyer than a scientist. But this gave him the advantage, in assessing the facts, of seeing things from an unusual perspective. Tacitus and Suetonius maintained that Tiberius had abandoned himself to the most disgusting revelry, the most brutal depravity, the most infamous perversions in Capri. But any court would have considered those arguments lacking and without evidence. Before impartial judges, Tiberius's acquittal would have been certain. Unfortunately, in this case, the jury was composed of scholars, concerned only with upholding preconceived ideas. Not all scholars are intelligent. Indeed, as Jerome often repeated: "A stupid scholar is more stupid than a stupid ignoramus." Reasoning as a lawyer, Jerome would have pointed out to the jury that after Tiberius's death, for eighty long years, not a single author had published a single line about the infamous Capri orgies. For eight decades, until the appearance of Tacitus's Annals, historians had consistently confirmed Tiberius's integrity and honesty. Some had written while Tiberius was still alive. And others, like Philo Hebraeus (98), Phaedrus, Seneca, and Pliny, had written after his death. Finally, others—like Flavius ​​Josephus, Quintilian, Statius, Juvenal, (99) and Plutarch (100)—had written even later. But none of these authors had mentioned the Capri orgies, or even hinted at having heard of them.

98 Philo, who would certainly have learned of any gossip about Tiberius's years on Capri, had only words of praise for the emperor. He admired his fair-mindedness and sense of justice. He praised his prudence, his austerity, and his generosity. The same author described the modest life that Caligula, despite himself, was forced to lead while he was Tiberius's guest on Capri. 

99 The sarcastic Juvenal, eager for scandal and generous with jabs, attributed Tiberius to no worse company than that of astrologers. And he spoke of his "peaceful old age."

100 A punisher of vice like Plutarch—author of a biography of Tiberius—had used words about the latter that he certainly would not have uttered had he heard of the orgies on Capri. Indeed, Plutarch said, speaking of the period spent in Capri, that "the sacred spirit of government, the ruler of the universe, which [Tiberius] kept locked in his heart, had not changed residence."

101 Suetonius's inconsistency is revealed when he unexpectedly becomes an advocate for Tiberius's severity. Suetonius, in fact, writes that the young Caligula, seeking indecent entertainment while a guest of Tiberius in Capri, was forced to disguise himself to avoid being punished by the emperor.

Jerome paid no attention to Suetonius, a collector of gossip who enjoyed inventing risqué stories. To satisfy his readers' morbid curiosity, he indulged in descriptions of lewd scenes and obscene spectacles, without worrying about their veracity. He wasn't even interested in verisimilitude. (101) And he had the audacity to admit it when he said: "It is unlikely that such things were reported or heard, and it is even less likely that they were believed." The case of Tacitus was different. Tacitus had not used the weapon of irony and sarcasm towards Tiberius. Indeed, he had implicitly shown respect when he listed the people who had accompanied Tiberius to Capri: jurists and grammarians, experts in rhetoric, dialectic, arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy. Tiberius had retired to the island with a court of scholars and scientists, not ruffians and ephebes. Tacitus also recalled that in the twelfth year of his reign, an embassy had arrived from Spain to ask the emperor for permission to erect a temple in his honor, similar to what had been done for Augustus. But Tiberius, who detested flattery and obsequiousness, rejected divine honors and pronounced the following noble words to the Senate: "Conscript Fathers, I desire that you be my witnesses, so that future generations may remember what I am about to say. I am a common mortal. I fulfill the duties of men, and it is enough for me to occupy the highest place among them. Future generations will honor my memory if they judge me worthy of my ancestors, solicitous for your interests, steadfast in dangers, heedless of the resentment I will attract by pursuing the good of the state. These are the temples and statues I would like to receive. Dedicate them to me in your hearts. Marble monuments will be useless if the judgment of posterity is negative. I implore the gods to grant me, as long as I live, peace of mind and the ability to interpret human and divine laws well. And I pray that my fellow citizens and friends, after my death, will accompany the funeral praises with a sense of peace, gratitude, and with the memory of me and my actions.” The last sentence had particularly struck Jerome, who could not foresee that the words “Cum laude et bonis recordationibus facta atque famam nominis mei prosequantur” would one day be engraved on the marble of his tomb.

The Annals contained contradictions that deserved analysis. Tacitus had condensed the story of the Capri orgies into just ten lines. And another ten lines, at five different points in the text, contained hints regarding the beginning, or continuation, of the alleged excesses. Wasn't it surprising that Tacitus had reported those events so cursorily, without naming names or providing details? Yet on other occasions, when reporting despicable actions, Tacitus had not omitted details. Indeed, he had reported the circumstances in which they had occurred, and he had always cited the names of witnesses and those involved. However, in the case of Tiberius—respecting his name—Tacitus remained silent. Those horrendous acts provoked no reaction in the Senate. Not a single parent reacted, perhaps with suicide, to the kidnapping and rape of their children. Everyone endured in silence. This alone, in any court, would have been enough to render the orgies and misdeeds recounted by Tacitus devoid of credibility.

Stranger still is that Tacitus initially describes Tiberius as a stern man, a rigid opponent of any relaxation of custom or morality, desiring only the esteem of posterity. And that this portrait is reversed six years later. After having said that the emperor led a solitary and pleasure-free existence, suddenly the sprightly septuagenarian awakens and begins unleashing thugs to kidnap noble boys destined for his pleasure. Five years later, things get worse. When he should be a dormant old man, Tiberius oversteps his bounds and devotes himself even more frenetically to revelry and perversion. (102) What court would have believed such a story?

Yet Jerome was convinced that Tacitus had not intentionally slandered Tiberius, and to explain his behavior he formulated a hypothesis. Perhaps the historian had indirectly sought to defend himself from the accusation leveled against him of servility toward Domitian. The inclusion in the Annals of an attack on a generic tyrant would have attested to his ability to criticize the sovereign's autocratic regime. Therefore, he had resorted to the expedient of taking an archetype, such as that of the "tyrant," and had created a character endowed with emblematic faults and vices, to whom he had then attributed, for the sake of realism, the name of a real person. Tacitus wanted literary success. He cared little that the gentle and honest Tiberius had to be transformed, for the sake of the script, into a depraved monster.

102 Some had attempted to explain the Capri orgies by speaking of Tiberius's madness. This, however, would have been contradicted by the details, provided by Tacitus, of the emperor's good health, self-control, kindness, and dignity, of his clear and vigorous mind (which remained intact until his death), of his willpower and his readiness of speech.

V

During the first five years he spent on Capri, Jerome invested approximately ten thousand dollars in books, (103) ​​and dedicated his time to reading, studying, and taking notes. Each book was meticulously catalogued. (104) The register, both alphabetical and chronological, noted the date of purchase and the price paid. A bookplate was applied to the flyleaf of each volume, the printing plate of which had been engraved—a refined touch—by the jeweler Tiffany & Co. of New York. Furthermore, there was a "register of books read," (105) where Jerome noted the start and end dates of each consultation. (106) And finally, there was a list of handwritten notes made during the reading and found in the large index card, each of which had a reference number. In short, Jerome employed a systematic cataloging system that, through the cataloging of the four thousand volumes, could provide a wealth of information (107) and allowed for cross-referencing of data.

About half of Jerome's book purchases took place in the two years after arriving in Capri. In the two-year period 1900-1901, he purchased the first 2,054 volumes, for which he paid a total of $4,719, equal to over 26,000 lire. 108 In practice, he spent more on books than he had paid for the villa.

103 Much information about Jerome's library is contained in PTSJ 3. 7.

104 PTSJ 12. 6 and PTSJ 12. 7.

105 PTSJ 12. 3.

106 It may be interesting to browse through this register. On August 12, 1904, Jerome read the monograph dedicated by Norman Douglas to the Capri saint, Sister Serafina di Dio. On March 1, 1905, he instead enjoyed reading Some Antiquarian Notes by the same author.

107 The records also provide information about Jerome's daily life. For example, there is an absence of readings from September 10 to 20, 1904. This can be explained by the fact that Jerome had left Capri during those days. The absence is confirmed in a letter (PTSJ, 1.13, 52), dated September 14, 1904, from Coleman to Freer: “Jerome and Yetta have left for Switzerland. Tom was seriously ill before leaving and is, I believe, worried about his health. Stomach trouble, the causes of which, in my opinion, are due to excessively peppery food and night vigils devoted to study.” 

108 The dollar was then worth 5.60 lire.

*     *     *

In the summer of 1901, Freer returned to Capri and found the yacht of German industrialist Alfred Friedrich Krupp moored in the Marina Piccola harbor. The Maja weighed 40 tons and was equipped for scientific research. It had a large reel, two thousand meters of steel cable, and special nets suitable for plankton fishing. Krupp, in collaboration with the Naples Zoological Station, had conducted a deep-sea fishing campaign that had led to the discovery of an extremely rare eel larva never before found in that part of the Mediterranean. The "king of cannons" had fallen in love with Capri, and his presence was a source of gossip: some complimentary, some venomous.

On June 20, Freer wrote to Whistler, who had been vacationing in Corsica: (110) “As you will see from the heading of this letter, I too find myself in close contact with the Mediterranean. Fortunately, I am in search of laziness and beauty, not health. And here in Capri there is a very dear old friend, as well as some pleasant acquaintances. The cool tramontana wind, which is not too cold, and the sun, which is not too hot, allow for long walks. The flowers and plants of this island are wonderful. I often think of you, and I hope that the time spent in Corsica has been as pleasant as the three weeks I have spent here. I will remain in Capri until July 1st. Then I will go to Germany for three weeks, and finally I will spend a week in Paris before leaving for America again at the end of July. I would very much like to see you again, even if only for an hour. Please let me know if I find you in Paris.”

Five days later, Freer wrote to Hecker, describing the life he led on Capri: (111) “The Gulf, the sea, and the coastline retain, as seen from this little island, all their ancient beauty, and their charm seems to increase every day. We pass the time in swimming, lounging on the beach, watching the sun sink behind the mountains, climbing hills, visiting ancient ruins, watching the clouds, admiring the flowers in bloom. We have wonderful friends, and I have met a formidable woman. (112) From time to time, when we feel like it, we get together; and the more ambitious ones engage in intellectual discourse. For the last two Sundays our little group of friends has gathered in the Grotta di Matermania, a magnificent cavern overlooking the Bocca Piccola of Capri and the hills of Sorrento, to perform appropriate rites in honor of the old pagan god Mithras, with Tom acting as High Priest. The ceremonies, enlivened by a riot of music and colors, they were very entertaining” (113).

110 Merrill/2, pp. 143-144.

111 CLFP, letter of June 25, 1901.

112 Freer alludes to the painter Romaine Goddard, who later married John Ellingham Brooks, with whom he appears to have fallen in love. Cf. Freer's letter from London to Hecker of May 30, 1902: “I have lost my head, but only partially, over a girl who came here from Capri.” Coleman, who was aware of Freer's sympathy for Romaine, hastened to inform him of the Brookses' breakup. Cf. CLFP, letter from Coleman to Freer of September 14, 1904: “Mrs. Brooks has returned to London. Mr. Brooks is not with her, and was not with her when she was here.” The fact that Romaine was a lesbian should not be surprising. The boundary between homosexuality and heterosexuality is less clear-cut than commonly thought. Perhaps it was precisely the masculine side of women that attracted Freer. And it was probably the same masculine and protective attitude that pushed Romaine to marry an effeminate homosexual in 1903, a "dreamer unprepared for active life" like the poet John Ellingham Brooks, who at the University of Heidelberg had seduced the adolescent Somerset Maugham. For more information on Goddard-Brooks, see the pages dedicated to the painter by Roberto Ciuni in the book I peccati di Capri, Rome 1998, pp. 70-84.

In 1902, Freer arrived in London in early May. (114) He stayed in the English capital for two months, during which he purchased four Whistler pastels that had been exhibited at the Grand Palais in Paris, and thirty-one other works by the artist. He had thus achieved his goal of doubling his collection. London at the time was in a state of frenetic excitement. Tourists arrived from all over England, and even from abroad, to witness the coronation of Edward VII. The confusion caused by the preparations for the ceremony so disturbed Freer and Whistler that they decided to seek some peace in Holland, where they could visit the museums and admire the tulips in bloom. On June 20, Freer wrote to Hecker (115): “This is my last day in London, and I truly hate the idea of ​​leaving, but the crowds are growing so large that it is almost impossible to move about the streets. Next week, the week of the coronation, so many people will arrive that the city will burst. Meanwhile, the dignity and beauty of the capital have disappeared behind a desolate expanse of absurd decorations and illuminations costing millions of pounds. It is truly horrible. Tomorrow Whistler and I, the only two sane people left in the city, will escape and take refuge in Holland, where we hope to find peace and opportunity for reflection. After Holland, we will go to Paris, where we expect to arrive on the 28th. On July 2, Whistler will return to London, while my friend Coleman from Capri and I will leave for Spain. Velasquez!! The Alhambra!! Gibraltar!! Capri!!”

They left the following day, and had almost reached Amsterdam when Whistler suffered a heart attack. To ensure his medical care, the painter was transported to The Hague and lodged at the Hotel des Indes. From then on, for a month, Freer devoted himself to his friend as he fought against death, nursing him constantly, sleeping only a few hours a night. Coleman, who was waiting in Paris, was informed that the trip to Spain had to be considered cancelled. After five weeks, Whistler was finally declared out of danger, and Freer was able to leave for Rome, where Coleman and Jerome were waiting to take him to Capri. He felt so exhausted that he, too, would need medical attention. Fortunately, at Villa Castello he was able to rest and work off "excessive nervous tension." (116) On July 28, he wrote to Hecker: (117) "I'll rest for a while in Capri, and then when Freddie Mann is ready, I'll return to Detroit with him." But fate had decided to derail his plans once again, striking him with yet another misfortune. He had just arrived in Rome when a telegram informed him that he must return to America immediately: his brother was dying.

113 This demonstrates that mock ceremonies were held in the Matermania cave by members of the foreign colony as early as 1901, and perhaps even earlier. In any case, well before December 24, 1910, when Jacques Fersen, together with the Wolcott-Perrys, Clavel, Lovatelli, and others, celebrated the mock sacrifice of Nino Cesarini in the cave, which caused such scandal and was the cause of his expulsion from the island.

114 Merrill/2, pp. 28-40.

115 CLFP, letter no. 61.

Shortly after Freer's return home, the "Krupp scandal" erupted on Capri. (118) On October 15, 1902, an article appeared in the socialist newspaper "La Propaganda" in Naples, accusing industrialist Alfred Friedrich Krupp, a "rich sexual degenerate," of having transformed Capri into a center of depravity capable of surpassing "even the power of the biblical description of Sodomy and Gomorrah." That first attack was followed by even more violent ones in the same newspaper; until the scandal, which reverberated in Germany and was picked up by German newspapers, ended tragically. Krupp died, probably by suicide, on November 22, 1902.

*     *     *

In the spring of 1903, Freer returned to Europe once again, intending to visit Capri first, then Spain, Paris, and London. (119) On May 2, he wrote to Hecker from Villa Castello: (120) “I arrived five days ago on the Liguria, after enjoying an excellent voyage in the same bay which at present offers itself to the view of our house in all its magnificence. Tom and Coleman met me in Naples. Capri, still bathed in its spring colors, is more beautiful than ever.” The trip to Spain, which had been missed the previous year, remained a burning desire. "The only chance I have of going to Spain and seeing something interesting during this month of May is to take a ship leaving Naples in a couple of weeks. The news of my premature departure has caused disappointment and displeasure among my friends in Capri, but I have no choice. Spain must be the great event of my trip this year. I'm trying to convince Tom and Coleman to accompany me, but they're hesitant."

116 Letter to Hecker, July 11, 1902. Merrill/2, p. 33.

117 CLFP, letter no. 67.

118 Cf. Carlo Knight, Krupp's Caprese Utopia, Capri 2002.

119 Cf. Freer's letter to Whistler, March 39, 1903: “My summer tour will begin April 14, leaving New York on the ship Liguria. I plan to go to Capri, and then to Spain, Paris, and London. On this last stop, I hope to be able to meet you, and to find you in full vigor, interested as always in things that are worthy.” Merrill/2, p. 185.

120 CLFP, letter no. 69.

Coleman and Jerome's concerns were understandable. The journey would be long and expensive, and the decision couldn't be made on the spur of the moment. Moreover, abandoning Capri, which was a splendor in that month of May, seemed absurd. In the end, however, Freer's affectionate insistence prevailed, and on May 15th the three friends boarded the ship Hohenzollern bound for Gibraltar. Yetta remained on Capri to look after the house. Jerome hadn't dared suggest taking his "housekeeper" with him, even though he would have liked to. As usual, it is a letter from Freer to Hecker, sent from Madrid on June 9, (121), that gives us the news, informing us that Jerome had been unable to resist staying away from Yetta: "Tom remained with us until the 4th of this month, when superior calls in the south of France, including Lourdes (!), prompted him to return in haste to his home on the island, which seems to attract him more than anything else in the world." The suspicion that Tom had arranged to meet Yetta (who was perhaps Catholic) in Lourdes, in order to return with her to Capri, is legitimate. In any case, it is obvious that Freer implies with a hint of irony that among the attractions of the Capri villa are also the charms of the "housekeeper."

Granada had been a disappointment for Freer. He had expected more after reading so many glowing descriptions from poets and writers. And Seville had seemed inhabited by people "not only banal and ignorant but also stupid and lazy." Spain's problem was "the widespread ignorance, indolence, and apathy of its people, all combined with a supreme cruelty to animals." Freer had attended a bullfight and was shocked by the mistreatment of mules, horses, and cattle he witnessed.

The rest, however, had enchanted him: "As for the main objectives of the trip—paintings, architecture, statues, gardens, and scenic beauty—the visit brought me endless joy. The ceramic-clad buildings, the other forms of Moorish art, the sculptures, the ancient textiles, the metalwork, the paintings of Velázquez, the gardens (including the irrigation works), must be counted among the greatest contributions to civilization." At the Prado, director Villegas, as a sign of respect, had declared that for Freer and Coleman, the museum's doors would be open "at all hours of every day from dawn to dusk."

While Freer was visiting Spain with Coleman, Whistler was waiting for him in London. On June 16, hoping he had arrived, he tried to send him a telegram at the Hotel Carlton, where he usually stayed: “Are you there? You should have appeared by now. Kind regards.” (122) But Freer was in Burgos, from where he would leave the next day with Coleman for Paris.

121 CLFP, letter no. 71.

122 Merrill/2, p. 190.

Freer arrived in London on June 30th and at four in the afternoon went to the painter's house. He found him ill. A few days earlier he had suffered a heart attack and was struggling to recover. "He could hardly speak," Freer confided to Hecker, "and only when I was about to leave did he whisper to me to come back the next day." (123) Despite the impossibility of speaking, Freer continued to visit his friend every day. Until, when he showed up at the studio on July 17th, he learned that he had been dead for a few minutes. (124)

The following year, Freer organized a major exhibition in Boston celebrating Whistler, the majority of which featured works from his collections. And on the day the exhibition closed, he announced his intention to donate his collections to the nation. On January 30, 1905, the New York Evening Post published an article about him, beginning: “We have received news of great interest, namely, that Mr. Charles L. Freer of Detroit has donated his important collection, together with a building to house it, to the Smithsonian Institute in Washington.” (125) Freer would retain ownership of the collections for his lifetime, increasing their value to a million dollars. He would also donate half a million dollars toward the construction of a museum that would bear his name. (126) Surprisingly, getting the donation accepted was no easy feat. As Freer wrote to Jerome (127), “Some of the Smithsonian's trustees, as well as some Senators and Members of the House of Representatives, would like the Institute to continue to devote itself exclusively to scientific work, without admitting works of art into its collections.” Freer, however, to overcome this obstacle, had appealed to the President of the United States (128): “My last trip to the Eastern part [of the United States] was made to meet the President [Roosevelt], who had invited me to the White House to discuss my offer of a donation to the Smithsonian Institute.

123 Merrill/1, p. 53.

124 Ibid.

125 Cf. Merrill/2, p. 40: “Freer would continue to curate and expand the collection until his death. But he stipulated that, after it was transferred to the Smithsonian, nothing should be added or removed; nothing should be loaned for exhibitions; and nothing else should be displayed in the building he intended to build as the home of the collections.”

126 Freer possessed the “Midas touch”: everything he touched turned to gold. By his death on September 25, 1919, the collection had reached a value of seven million dollars, and the building was worth more than a million. Saarinen, pp. 135; 142. 

127 CLFP, letter of December 23, 1905.

128 Ibid.

Without bothering you with details, I'll just say that President and Mrs. Roosevelt, along with members of the Cabinet and several influential Washingtonians, have expressed interest in my proposed donation and have stated that they would do everything possible to have the offer accepted. The President has also assured me that everything will be carried out without further quibbles.

*     *     *

Jerome had everything he needed in Capri, and he would have managed to live a pleasant life if there had been a little more domestic harmony at Villa Castello. For a few years, as long as he and Yetta had enjoyed the beauties of Capri and the delights of love, life had been splendid. Even his jealousy pleased Yetta, who saw it as a demonstration of affection. But then things changed. His bookish vigils had dampened his amorous passion, and the roles had reversed. Now he wanted to be left alone, while Yetta, having lost her fiery former lover, felt abandoned. She had become jealous of everyone, both men and women. She mistreated visitors, refusing to serve tea (129), and behaved rudely towards female visitors. She said they deserved it, since they treated her like a servant. As for the men, they had all tried to lay their hands on her. Because Yetta was still, after reaching thirty, a very attractive woman. A photo from those years shows her sitting on a low wall in the villa's garden, wearing a simple, elegant white dress that highlights her slender yet curvaceous figure. The image suggests that Yetta possessed class, in addition to her beauty. Certainly, her features had become a little heavier, but it takes no imagination to imagine the splendor that must have illuminated that face in her early youth. There was something mysteriously mischievous in her eyes. Weber recalled that "she had an enigmatic smile and the expression of a cat that has swallowed a canary." (130)

Yetta's contemptuous and rude demeanor had gradually caused Tom's friends to stay away. Among the few who continued to frequent Villa Castello was a German who claimed to be Baron Franz von Veltheim. Norman Douglas, who had a knack for unmasking impostors, had managed to uncover his true identity. He was an anti-Semitic criminal who had "killed one of the Joel brothers in South Africa." In any case, he was no baron: "His habit of flaunting gold coins at every opportunity, and of boasting about the women he had met, suggested rather a man of low birth, an adventurer who lived off women." (131) Douglas could not understand why Jerome allowed him to frequent the villa: “The friendship between Jerome and Veltheim was strange at first sight, for Jerome was a law-abiding, peace-loving man, a retired lawyer, a scholar immersed up to his neck in the psychological causes that had brought about the fall of the Roman Empire. Yet one had only to go to Jerome's house at that time to almost certainly find Veltheim there. I imagine that the man of violence fascinated the sedentary scholar. Jerome had the bookworm's quiet admiration for the beast of prey, the lawyer's secret respect for the man who could kill his fellow man and get away with it.” (132)

129 VF, p. 105.

130 ARE, letter from Giorgio Weber to Susan Hobbs, April 1, 1987.

131 Douglas, pp. 374-375. Douglas was inspired by Veltheim when he invented “the character of Muhlen, alias Retlow in South Wind.”

132 Ibid.

*     *     *

Even though Jerome and Freer had gone their separate ways, something continued to bind them together. They had changed their lives, and now they were almost simultaneously communicating their plans. Freer had decided to create a museum. Jerome wanted to become a writer. On May 5, 1905, an article appeared in the Detroit Tribune headlined "Jerome to Write History of Rome," and underneath: "The former clubman, now Consul in Italy, announces he will become a writer." The article reported that "Thomas Spencer Jerome, who before being appointed American Consul on Capri was, thanks to his grace and gentle manners, a very popular member of Detroit high society, has announced his intention to write a new history of the Roman Empire. Knowing the extensive research he has conducted, we are certain that he will write a fundamental treatise: a classic work. Mr. Jerome is primarily remembered as a cheerful clubber and is known as a generous host at the princely villa he owns on the Mediterranean island. His decision to devote himself to such a demanding task has therefore caused some surprise among his circle of friends. Charles L. Freer, who is leaving for Europe and will be Mr. Jerome's guest, will bring him several congratulatory messages from Detroit. Mr. Jerome is currently forty years old."

In the summer of 1905, Freer did indeed go to Capri, but during the visit he quarreled with Yetta, and this unpleasant incident seriously damaged his friendship with Jerome. Charlie had apparently treated Yetta like a housekeeper, giving her some orders about the house or complaining about something, and she had responded by telling him to go to hell. Charlie would have expected an apology, or at least some words of understanding from Tom, but he had unreasonably taken Yetta's side instead. Charlie then vented his anger, saying that he couldn't understand how Tom could live with a woman inferior to him in both social standing and education. Hadn't he realized that Yetta, apart from everything else, wasn't fully rational? If he had decided to share his life with a paranoid who was robbing him of his peace of mind, he was free to do so. But he couldn't expect the same sacrifice from him. Having said this, he announced that he would never set foot in Villa Castello again as long as Yetta was there. Then he went up to his room, packed his bags and left for London. (133)

Charlie left without clarifying his intentions. In theory, he could have sold his share of the villa to someone else. After a few weeks, anxious to resolve the situation, Jerome decided to join him in London. During the stormy meeting in London, Charlie made every effort to convince Tom to get rid of Yetta, but his friend was adamant. The only thing they agreed on was that the co-ownership of Villa Castello could not continue. So he declared himself ready to buy Charlie's share, and offered a higher sum than what he had paid. But Charlie replied that he had no intention of making a profit on what for him had been much more than an investment. He simply asked for time to think things over. Tom then left for Capri, and at the end of December he received the reply: "With regard to Villa Castello, I think that, under the circumstances, it is best for you to acquire the entire property. Therefore, I beg you to prepare, or have prepared, the appropriate legal documents, and send them to me so that I can return them signed. The price [of my half] remains fixed at six thousand two hundred dollars, as we have already agreed. I understand and appreciate your consideration that the value of the property may have increased in the meantime, but I am not prepared to accept a cent more. And I agree that the conclusion you have reached, of reserving the villa for your exclusive use, is the wisest solution. Naturally, we are both distressed at having to observe the collapse of our old dreams and plans, and at finding ourselves faced with an unhappy situation from every point of view. My inability to convince you of the validity of what I told you in London at our last meeting discourages me from making further attempts in that direction. Therefore, there is nothing left to do but try to forget the aspects unpleasant things connected with my co-ownership of the villa. For my part, I will erase from my mind the memory of the events that caused me so much discomfort during my last visit. I will retain only the memory of the pleasant things: the beauty of our garden and that of Capri in general. I beg you to accept as a gift all the objects I left in the villa. Consider them included in the six thousand two hundred dollars. As for my clothes, give them to some poor devil who might be useful to them.”

133 This reconstruction of the course of the dispute is based on hints emerging from Freer's correspondence with Jerome and Coleman. While it remains hypothetical, it can therefore be considered plausible.

134 CLFP, letter of December 23, 1905.

Two months later, Freer wrote to Coleman, (135) who had just returned to Capri after a trip to Egypt, asking for assistance: “I believe Tom has informed you of your intention to purchase my share of the Villa Castello. I am sorry to inconvenience you, but knowing your innate courtesy, I ask if you would be willing to act as my agent in the transfer of ownership. I have already informed Tom, who is preparing the necessary papers, of my intention to entrust you with the said task, hoping that it will not cause you too much inconvenience. You can imagine how painful it is for me to have to adapt to the changing plans for the Villa Castello. On the other hand, after reflection, I have come to the conclusion that there is no alternative; and Tom, as saddened as I am, is of the same opinion. I think you feel the same way. The day before yesterday I celebrated my fiftieth birthday. Now that I have passed the halfway point, I feel ready to face the rest of the race. I have never felt better, and I do not see why I should not have another century and a half of life ahead of me.”

Around that time, Charlie received a letter from Tom, who, in the name of their old friendship, almost apologized. He admitted that some of the comments he'd heard in London weren't entirely unfounded, but asked for understanding. Yetta, despite her flaws, was now part of his life: he would rather die than live without her. Charlie appreciated the gesture of reconciliation and responded in kind. (136) “I congratulate you on your forty-second birthday. Having passed the danger zone, you will now live forever. Instead, I will celebrate my half-century of life next Sunday, and I will do so feeling ten years younger. I am grateful for your offer to always leave the door of Villa Castello open to me, but I don't know if and when I will be able to come to Italy again. And I am pleased that you mentioned that part of our conversation in London that prompted me to write to you. I had the impression that you had doubts about the validity of what I had told you, but now your letter puts things right. Let us forget the sordid details with which, perforce, we have been forced to deal. Life is too short to retain memory of them. There are far more worthy things to devote our attention.”

135CLFP, letter of February 27, 1906.

136 CLFP, letter of February 23, 1906.

A month later, Jerome had the opportunity to witness a splendid eruption of Vesuvius from the terrace of Villa Castello. On April 3, the volcano began Strombolian-type explosive activity, spewing incandescent material into the air that resembled fireworks at night. The following day, at five in the morning, a fissure opened on the southern slope of the mountain, facing Capri, from which lava began to flow; and at midnight, a second vent opened on the same side. The spectacle of two scorching rivers flowing toward the sea in the darkness of the night was incomparably beautiful. Shortly thereafter, further explosive activity began from three more vents, spewing smoke, incandescent material, and ash that the wind carried toward Capri. The island was soon covered by a blanket of reddish dust, "which drove the women who had to keep the roofs and terraces of the houses clean to despair, and filled the farmers with joy who knew the fertilizing value of that ash" (137).

*     *     *

Around mid-November 1906, Freer embarked on a new journey to Asia. (138) The itinerary included a stop in Europe, followed by a visit to Cairo before embarking for the Far East. The ship to Egypt would depart from Naples.

That time, instead of going to Capri, he stopped in Naples for a couple of weeks, taking excursions to Pompeii and Ischia. In Cairo, he made his usual tour of antiques dealers and visited Ali Arabi, the merchant who had already sold him excavated objects. Arabi responded to the usual question—if he had anything exceptional—with a promising smile, and, opening the safe, carefully took out some "ancient Christian texts of the greatest importance." Freer examined the material: there were one hundred and eighty-seven parchment leaves, covered in Greek writing and protected by four wooden tablets bearing encaustic portraits of the Evangelists. Caressing the parchment, he felt grains of sand under his fingers. Arabi explained that the ancient codices, coming from the ruins of a medieval monastery buried beneath the desert dunes, had just been excavated. There had been no time to clean them. Beyond that, he was unable to add much; and with feigned modesty explained that he was just a poor, ignorant merchant. This did not, however, prevent him from asking an exorbitant price: sixteen hundred pounds. The negotiation, which pitted two men of equal astuteness against each other, was difficult. Freer tried to gain time: he said he would like to have the manuscripts examined by an expert. But Arabi replied that he was sorry: with all the good will in the world, he could not grant an option, given that there were other interested collectors. Freer then acted with the impulse of an amateur rather than the caution of a professional. Trusting his instinct, he bought the sheets, basing his decision on the fact that "they seemed beautiful to him." (139) And he was rewarded when, upon returning to America, he discovered that he had become the owner of a treasure: the parchments contained codices of the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John dating back to the fourth and fifth centuries: "one of the oldest and most precious sources for the study of the New Testament." The deal fueled his desire to acquire more manuscripts from the same monastery. While the hunt continued, the precious codices, dubbed the Washington Gospels, would be secretly studied by his specialists. Meanwhile, the news was to be kept secret to avoid benefiting potential competitors.

137 ARE, letter from Giorgio Weber to Susan Hobbs dated “Xmas Season” [1988].

138 Lawton, pp. 66-74.

139 Saarinen, p. 137.

*     *     *

Contrary to popular belief, Capri's winters are long and harsh. Sometimes the island is shrouded in freezing fog, and the pervasive humidity eats away at the bones. During storms, the wind often howls against the rocks, with gusts that rustle the leaves fearfully, while thunder grows louder, resonating through the caves and underground cavities. Lightning, too, excited by the rocks' magnetic charge, strikes violently to the ground, accompanied by a startling crackle. Villa Castello, facing north, was certainly not the ideal place to brave Capri's winters.

Jerome suffered from the cold and loneliness, and Yetta could do little to help him: “For fifteen years Jerome and Yetta lived together at Villa Castello, leading a solitary existence due not so much to Yetta's behavior, which, as Mackenzie says in Vestal Fire, discouraged visitors, but to the fact that the woman's ambiguous position [housekeeper-lover] made it difficult for the couple to maintain normal social relations with the other foreign residents. Thus they spent most of their time alone, except for the company they provided each other.” (140)

Sometime after the breakup with Freer, Jerome suffered a crisis and began drinking again. From a report dated October 4, 1907, discovered by Susan Hobbs in the State Department archives, we learn that an American, a Mr. Richard Walton Tully, who with his wife had spent five months in Capri, had approached Mr. Rea Hanna, the American consul in Sorrento, complaining about Jerome's behavior. The report provides a summary of the Tullys' complaint: “It appears from their statements that Jerome gets drunk every night, and is more than rude to his fellow Americans. In particular, he appears to have openly insulted a certain Mr. Aloysius Coll, who had a letter of introduction from the State Department, and that he did so in the presence of the British Consular Agent. There are also serious suspicions that he is addicted to forms of perversion for which Capri appears to be a favorite place. (141) Mr. N. B. Steward, Consul at Castellammare di Stabia, who was present with Mr. Hanna at Mr. Tully's statements, will report further on the case.” (142)

140 ARE, letter from Giorgio Weber to Susan Hobbs dated November 25, 1985.

141 Possible allusion to Jerome's participation as “high priest” in the humorous ritual ceremonies organized in the Matermania cave in June 1901.

142 ARE, letter from Susan Hobbs to Giorgio Cerio dated February 26, 1987.

The following year, in an attempt to escape the dead end of depression, Jerome decided to spend the summer in Detroit. He knew Freer would be away during that time, but that didn't really matter: after what had happened, he wasn't eager to see him again. As a result, while Tom was in America, Freer was touring Egypt, Turkey, Greece, Trieste, Vienna, Budapest, and Paris. He had also left Naples that spring, embarking—as he later told Coleman—on the ship Orient, “which proved an old but very comfortable vessel, and which landed me at Port Said in excellent condition, with the sole exception of a sprained ankle, sustained the day before, which left me limping for a couple of weeks, but did not interfere with the interesting things that awaited me in Egypt. From there I went on to Palestine, and then to Syria, a wonderfully mysterious and interesting country, rich in art and adventure, where I truly enjoyed myself to the full. I also liked Constantinople very much, and the Greek islands, including Corfu, seemed delightful. I instead hastily visited Germany, France, and England, completing the planned itinerary.” (143)

In early September, Charlie and Tom met briefly, by a miraculous chance, in the port of New York. Charlie had just returned to America, while Tom was leaving for Europe. (144) Freer described the extraordinary meeting to Coleman as follows: (145) “I reached New York from England on September 3rd, and immediately after landing had the pleasure of a few minutes’ conversation with Tom Jerome. By an incredible coincidence, he was embarking on the Baltic, bound for England, while I had just disembarked from the Adriatic, of the same line. The visit to America had done him good. I was delighted to note how his appearance and health had improved.” The meeting was brief and almost formal. The two had little to say to each other. Even in July of the following year—when, embarking on his usual trip to Asia, he passed through Naples before embarking for Cairo— (146) Freer did not go to Capri. (147)

143 CLFP, letter from Freer to Coleman, September 18, 1908.

144 Jerome returned to Capri in mid-November.

145 CLFP, letter from Freer to Coleman, September 18, 1908.

146 After Egypt, Freer visited Hong Kong and Beijing, finally continuing on to Japan and returning to America shortly before Christmas.

147 On that occasion, Freer visited the Museum of San Martino in Naples. See Lawton, p. 241.

*     *     *

In early January 1910, Italy was hit by an exceptional cold snap. In Capri, the peak of Mount Solaro was blanketed in snow, and there were countless cases of influenza on the island. Villa Castello, exposed to the gusts of the mistral wind, was an icebox. This made Jerome, the day he woke up with a headache and a few chills, suspect he had caught a cold. So he swallowed an aspirin and went back to bed. But the next morning, looking in the mirror, he noticed a strange red patch covered in blisters had appeared on his face. Yetta sent for Dr. Feo, who diagnosed erysipelas, a bothersome skin disease. Given the contagious nature of the disease, Jerome had to remain in isolation for several days. On February 4, he wrote to Kelsey (148): “I beg your pardon for the delay in answering your letter, but unfortunately I have been engaged in fighting with all my might against the daemon of erysipelas. At present, though I have ceased to liquefy, my eyes and fingers are not yet what they were before. I must therefore confine myself to sending you this postcard. I am grateful for the attention you give to my work, and I think that the Roman Census, originally conceived as an outline for a conference, should be enlarged and completed before being published. As you will have noticed, I have examined the demographic evolution of the Italian population from the late Republican to the late Imperial period, trying to arrive at a series of statistical data. The subject is too technical and lends itself to criticism. I cannot therefore treat it superficially. I really think I will have to rewrite it. The essay on the Eleusinian Mysteries, on the other hand, is so light that, in my opinion, it does not deserve the honour of being published. It is a simple ‘vulgarisation’, as they say. the French."

Kelsey replied from Ann Arbor on February 23: (149) "I was sorry to hear of your illness, but I hope it has passed. I agree with you: the Roman Census should be revised, expanded, and annotated. As soon as it is ready, I suggest you send it to the American Historical Review, an ideal publication for this type of work. I am sorry to contradict you, but the essay on the Eleusinian Mysteries also deserves publication, although I cannot tell you where at this time."

148 PTSJ, 1. 1, 16.

149 PTSJ 1.1.

This letter was followed by a short note dated March 8, (150) in which Kelsey informed Jerome that he was in contact with the organizers of the Hygiene Exhibition to be held in Dresden in 1911. There would be a conference, and the organizers would welcome a presentation on the problem of hygiene in classical antiquity: “Could you please think about it and let me know if you would like to attend?”

After his erysipelas, Jerome suffered an attack of gastritis. He was therefore unable to respond to Kelsey until May 8, (151) upon his return from Tunisia, where he had been convalescing: "A journey to Africa in search of warmth—where I found the further south I went the colder it became, until the Sahara proved to be an arctic region—and various troubles awaiting my return, in addition to the things that had accumulated while I was battling the daemon of erysipelas, have delayed this letter." Jerome was pleased to report that John Bagnell Bury, Regius Professor at Cambridge, had visited him on Capri and proposed publishing Roman Census in the English Historical Review. Jerome had also spoken to him about the great work on the decline of the Roman Empire, but Bury had advised him to begin publishing the first chapter, which had already reached book-length format. Had he titled it Roman Vice, it would probably have piqued readers' interest. Bury was confident that the London publisher MacMillan would have bought the rights for 150 pounds. Jerome believed that the Romans' main vice was their propensity for lying. Roman Vice would have exposed many lies, demonstrating how many falsehoods about the Romans had been handed down by the sources. (152)

As for the Hygiene Exhibition, Jerome did not think it was possible to go to Dresden because in 1911 the monument to Vittorio Emanuele II would be inaugurated in Rome, followed by a historical studies conference in which he would have liked to participate as a representative of the University of Michigan.

While Jerome aspired to expose the vices of the Romans to the world, Freer dreamed of finding ancient codices in Egypt, as valuable as those he had purchased in 1906. On May 19, 1910, he received a letter from the Kalebdjian brothers, prominent merchants in Cairo, that rekindled his hope. The Kalebdjians reported that a priceless volume containing fifty finely illuminated folios had been discovered in the ruins of an ancient convent in Fayoum. The police had shown up at the Kalebdjians' shop to seize the object, but they had arrived too late: the folios had already been sent to Paris, where Freer could examine them.

150 Ibid.

151 PTSJ, 1. 1, 4 –5.

152 Which meant that another acceptable title might have been Roman Morals and Social Life.

153 PTSJ, 15, 14.

A few days later, on June 4, Kelsey wrote to Jerome (154) to inform him that Freer was leaving for his fifth trip to Asia, which would last eight months. (155) He would first stop in Paris, where he planned to examine some ancient manuscripts, (156) and then travel to Japan and China, where he intended to make purchases to enrich his collections. Kelsey wished Jerome the best of luck with Roman Vice and confirmed that the University of Michigan would be happy to have him represent him at the Rome conference. On September 5, Jerome wrote to Kelsey (157) with two pieces of news: one good and one bad. The first was that his proposal to speak at the Rome conference on psychological analysis applied to the study of ancient history had been accepted. The bad news was that Roman Census was slipping away from him. Like all his works, Roman Census also manifested “an intention of expanding to such an extent as to keep me busy all summer.” Roman Vice, which had started as a chapter, had already become a book. Now, Roman Census was doing the same: it had begun to swell, forcing Roman Vice to wait.

*     *     *

Freer's youthful sacrifices had paid off in his later years. The millions he had accumulated had enabled him to become a great collector and made him famous and powerful. In America, he was friends with almost everyone important. But vanity had created a false sense of invulnerability in him. He was therefore dealt a severe blow when his health proved precarious. On June 12, 1911, he broke the news to Tom: “I regret having to reply to your letter of May 20 with a few lines dictated to my secretary. On May 23, while I had moved into a hotel to await the completion of the renovations on my house, I fell ill, the victim of ptomaine poisoning, caused by something I had eaten. Then, as if that were not enough, after the after-effects of the poisoning had subsided, I was struck by what the doctors called ‘a slight cerebral effusion.’ My entire right side is paralyzed, which is why I cannot use the pen. My mind, however, has remained clear, which leads me to hope that I will soon recover and perhaps be better than before. I hope all is well in Capri, that you have regained your strength and have recovered from last year’s ailments.”

154 PTSJ, 1. 1. 

155 Freer was unaware that this would be his last trip. 

156 In Paris, however, he would learn that the volume proposed to him by the Kalebdjian brothers was a ninth-century gospel book, five centuries later than the Washington Gospels. The manuscripts, which were Coptic and not Greek, were then purchased by the American banker J. P. Morgan. 

157 PTSJ, 1.1 

158 PTSJ, 1.13, 53.

Five days later, the secretary informed Jerome (159) that Freer was doing better: “You will be pleased to hear that his health has improved. He is now able to sit for short periods.” Indeed, on July 6, Charlie was able to dictate another letter (160): “Dear Tom, I received your letter of June 18 yesterday. I am delighted to hear that you will be giving a series of lectures at the American School in Rome. You are right. Tell those young people your conclusions about the history of ancient Rome. Most children know little. Too many students leave school more ignorant than when they entered. Try to put some good ideas into their heads. There is too much hypocrisy around. Tell them the truth. Few teachers have the courage to do so.” Freer thanked Jerome for the article, which appeared in a scientific journal, discussing the influence of Eastern art on Western art: “The subject, as you know, interests me greatly. Professor Fenollosa’s book, written shortly before his death, will be published in November (or December). It will be the most complete and accurate treatise ever written on the subject. Mrs. Fenollosa, who is revising the text and correcting the proofs, came to see me in Detroit. I gave her some advice. I will send you a copy as soon as it comes out. I am sure you will like it.”

Freer was deluded about his chances of recovery: “I am regaining my strength rapidly. The doctors and nurses are amazed at the speed with which I have overcome the crisis. Around the middle of the month, following their advice, I will move to Mackinac Island, where Colonel Hecker has placed his cottage at my disposal. I will remain there until September. Then I will return to Detroit and reopen the house, currently closed for renovations. The doctors are trying to ascertain the nature of the illness. We will know something in about ten days. At present they say they are confident that I will recover my strength within two or three months. I have no fears. Everything will end well. I will continue to write to you from time to time to keep you informed.”

During the period when they were both in good health, Freer and Jerome had stopped writing. At the time, they were both very busy with their respective activities and too self-absorbed. Now, illness, making them aware of their own fragility, made them feel more humble and in need of affection. And this had led to a resumption of correspondence. On July 12, Charlie wrote to Tom: “I received your letter of June 25 yesterday, which gave me much pleasure. I have carefully examined the garden photos, especially the one of the sundial. The inscription makes it even more interesting. I hope it will remain a part of the house even after you and I are gone. I can give you some encouraging news about my health. Doctors Lowrie and Jennings are taking care of me, and I have excellent nurses. Next Saturday, accompanied by Lowrie and a nurse, I will board Colonel Hecker’s yacht, which will take me to Mackinac Island. I will follow your advice. I will try to keep my blood pressure low. Inform Coleman of my health. Tell him I am improving, and take care of yourself.”

159 PTSJ, 1. 13. 

160 PTSJ, 1.13, 54. 

161 PTSJ, 1.13.

VI

The fate that had long united the lives of Freer and Jerome now seemed to unite them in misfortune. After Freer's illness, Jerome's health had also become worrying. On August 3, he wrote to Kelsey (162) to inform him of the situation, maintaining an affectedly joking tone: “I am unforgivably late in replying to your last letter, but unfortunately I have been tormented by the gastritis daemon. I was suffering so much, so much so that the specialist I saw in Rome suggested cutting open my stomach and constructing a new alimentary canal. Fortunately, living in Italy, I have learned to be wary. So I went to seek advice in a more reliable country, Switzerland, where a true expert, after analyzing my mesenteric fluid for three days, reached a less dramatic diagnosis. Simple hyperchlorhydria, controllable with a diet. For now, the daemon has retreated into its shell (do demons have shells?), but every now and then it rears its head whenever I forget to follow the diet to the letter.”

Illness had prevented him from attending the Roman symposium. But now there was the project he had already mentioned to Freer: “I have been invited to give a series of lectures this coming winter at the American School in Rome. I intend to speak on the use of psychological methodologies in evaluating historical sources, and I spent a month in Rome to prepare. Last year, interesting French and German works on this topic appeared. It is therefore a topical matter. In these lectures, I will reiterate what I already stated in the introductory section of Roman Vice, where I concluded that, if one were to exclude sources containing errors and falsehoods, very little would be left that could be used. I am increasingly convinced that the principal vice of the Romans was mendacity. Have you noticed how lowly truthfulness ranks in the hierarchy of virtues established by the Church Fathers? Those saints almost always consider deceit and mendacity to be typical defects of the Jews, and especially of Jehovah. However, according to them, the Devil always speaks the truth.”

161 PTSJ, 1.13. 

162 PTSJ, 1 .1, 11-13.

Jerome had already complained that his writings seemed to have a life of their own, tending to grow like leavened dough, expanding beyond his control. The Roman Census was doing the same. It was growing visibly and was slipping out of his control: "Unfortunately, it is a technical treatise, from which no publisher can hope to make a profit. The truth is, I don't know what to do with it."

By now, health had become the main topic in the letters exchanged between Jerome and Freer. On August 5, Charlie wrote (163): “Dear Tom, I am happy to report an improvement in my condition. I am on the veranda of Colonel Hecker’s cottage, where I am currently enjoying the view. The air is healthy, the quiet is absolute, and I am being cared for by good doctors and nurses. My stenographer, Miss Day (who is dictating this letter), has also accompanied me. I am in no pain and have a robust appetite (which I am forced to suppress). I hope shortly to be able to walk, or at least drive, along the streets of this pleasant locality. I plan to return to Detroit early in September, and reopen the house. A complete recovery will take two or three months. Then I will be as I was before. At present, I am enjoying my rest, and reliving in my memory the good days of the past.”

Freer's optimism was obviously forced, so much so that after reading that letter, Tom was overcome with melancholy. The idea that Charlie, whose tireless vigor he had always admired, had become a wreck was very depressing. Kelsey's letters, however, cheered him up. On August 18, the archaeologist confirmed his interest in the use of psychology in evaluating historical sources: (164) “I see that legal experience proves particularly useful in this field, and I am sure that your lectures at the American School of Rome will create a sensation. I was thinking of coming to Pompeii this summer, also because I had been commissioned to edit a new English edition of Mau's guide, but unfortunately my responsibility as president of the American Archaeological Institute does not allow me to be away. I will come next year, when my assignment ends. In the meantime, I think you will be pleased to hear about the excavations at Cyrene. Our discoveries have exceeded our wildest expectations. We have excavated a marble head of Athena from the finest period of Greek sculpture, as well as other pieces—mostly fragments—of inferior quality. Furthermore, more than 2,000 votive offerings have been found. I have written a book entitled ‘The Study of Latin and Greek in American Schools’. I will send it to you in the next few days.”

163 PTSJ, 1.13. 

164 PTSJ, 1, 1, 14.

Jerome replied on October 7: (165): “I must apologize for the delay, but I have been busy preparing for lectures, and have had stomach trouble again. The suffering, however, has been alleviated by the satisfactions of work. I have just finished the lectures on the use of historical sources and the analysis of testimonies. Now I am preparing to tackle other topics: the influence of rhetoric in the representation of characters, the lack of importance given to the concepts of accuracy and truthfulness, the importance of social, moral, religious prejudices, etc. I found your book on the teaching of Latin and Greek in America very interesting. When I was a boy, Latin was considered a waste of time, and this resulted in poor teaching. I studied Latin in school for four and a half years, and continued to study it for another two years in college. I always passed the examinations without problems, but I was never able to read the classics with ease. Which is absurd.”

Freer had returned to Detroit after four months of convalescence. On December 1, he sent news to Jerome: "I am grateful for your letter of November 11, and am pleased to learn that the lessons for the young people at the American School are going well. After spending the summer at Mackinac and the autumn in the Berkshire hills, I feel better. The rest has done me good. Dr. Lowrie (who, you will remember, was an assistant to Freddie Mann) is following my recovery. He spoke some encouraging words to me only yesterday. In a month, he assured me, I will be as good as ever. Of course, it is possible that I will limp a little, and that my muscles may be sore; but Lowrie believes that, with a little care and moving slowly, I shall be able to do almost anything. I know you will be pleased by this news. So do not be surprised if you learn in a little while that I am planning another trip to the East."

There is little new here, except that Detroit has grown tremendously in the last ten years. If you saw it, you would be amazed. Offices stretch from one side of Woodward Avenue to the other, from the Boulevard to the river, and the suburbs are expanding, too. Business is thriving. Nearly all our old friends have moved their homes to Grosse Pointe. Unfortunately, the charm of old Detroit is gone. Smoke, dirt, noise, and other inconveniences of big industrial centers are invading what used to be the elegant part of the city. Yet I resist. I have no intention of demolishing my house and moving to Grosse Pointe.” (167)

165 PTSJ, 1.1, 16a - 16b. 

166 PTSJ, 1.13. 

167 What is surprising about this letter is that Freer provides Jerome with so many details about the changes that have taken place in the city over the past decade. Had he perhaps forgotten that Tom had spent the summer in Detroit three years earlier?

*     *     *

The year 1911 ended with a pleasant surprise for Jerome. The Giornale d'Italia had published an enthusiastic article about the lectures he had given in Rome, which was also read in Capri, prompting the City Council to pay public recognition to the historian whose studies were bringing prestige to the island. On December 29th, the council, in an extraordinary session, approved a resolution, the text of which would be delivered personally to Jerome "at his residence at Villa Castello on January 1st, 1912, also to express fervent New Year's greetings on that occasion."

*     *     *

The satisfactions his writing brought him, the first he had ever experienced, filled Jerome's heart with joy, and this also had a beneficial effect on his health. He might have declared himself happy had he not just learned that Norman Douglas, one of his best friends, was about to leave the island. In 1903, after the collapse of his marriage, Norman had settled in Capri to devote himself to the preparation of erudite monographs on the island's history, fauna, and vegetation. Every now and then he disappeared for a few months, and on his return it was learned that he had gone to Calabria or Ischia, the Sorrento Peninsula or Tunisia to gather material for a book. (168) Now he was moving to London, where he had been appointed literary critic of the English Review, and this was bad news for Jerome: “The toil of Jerome’s research work had been lightened for years by Douglas’s comments, whose vitality brought fresh air to the musty and dusty piles of books at Villa Castello. Norman was aware of the beneficial effect he could have on his old friend, and never failed to visit him.” (169) Douglas even managed to get Yetta to cuddle him. He won her over by making her laugh: “The only thing to do with Yetta is to grab her as soon as she opens the door and tickle her all over. Since I have been doing this she has become very friendly towards me, and even pleasant. I have tickled her in the strangest parts, and have always gotten her to bring me tea.” (170)

168 The titles of those books—Old Calabria, Summer Islands, Siren Land, Fountains in the Sand—would later become famous. 

169 VF, p. 275. 

170 VF, p. 105.

*     *     *

Jerome's Anglo-Saxon and Puritan upbringing required him not to show his feelings too clearly, but that didn't stop him from sending Kelsey a letter brimming with happiness on March 25: (171) "Your letter arrived while I was immersed in preparing a series of lectures on Tiberius to be held in Capri. It was a beastly task. For two weeks I hardly had time to eat. I'll tell you how the idea was born. Thanks to a flattering article in the Giornale d'Italia, news of the success of my lectures at the American School had spread throughout the island. Upon my return to Capri, I received a triumphal welcome. On New Year's morning, the entire City Council, accompanied by a band playing the American national anthem, came to my house to solemnly present me with a parchment. Modesty prevents me from reporting its contents."

The text of the municipal resolution, as it appeared in the documents, could not have been more flattering: "The Mayor President announces that he has learned with great pleasure of the splendid success achieved by Mr. Thomas Spencer Jerome, Consular Agent of the United States of America in Capri, with 12 historical lectures he gave at the American School of Classical Studies in Rome. Before many foreign scholars and writers, the illustrious critic and writer spoke, at length and with vast erudition, of Roman times and especially of the Emperor Tiberius and Capri; presenting the events of that era in a new light and with a benevolent sense for our island, and demonstrating with facts the falsity of the legend of Tiberius' atrocities and infamies handed down to us by some untruthful historians. Considering that Mr. Jerome's work is fruitful for Capri, and that his lectures in Rome shed light on and enhance the reputation of this island among scholars and scholars of every nation; mindful of the noble purpose pursued by this illustrious man and of the great affection he has constantly shown towards our country; interpreting the unanimous and general sentiment of this citizenry; unanimously resolves to express a solemn vote of applause and gratitude to Mr. Thomas Spencer Jerome and a greeting of homage and profound admiration.”

171 Letter of March 25, 1912. PTSJ, 1.1, 18-21.

After the resolution was read, the ceremony continued with even more lavish speeches, and finally, a laurel wreath was presented to Jerome: "The mayor attempted to place it on my head, but it was too large. He had to settle for placing it around my neck, like the chain of the Lord Mayor of London. Then it was my turn. I took the floor and recalled that there was another elderly resident, the Emperor Tiberius, who would have been more deserving of an award than I. I explained that poor Tiberius had been falsely attributed with criminal deeds, adding that that mountain of slander had tarnished the name of Capri over the centuries. Those falsehoods, by defaming the island and its inhabitants, had discouraged and continued to discourage tourists. This is why visitor numbers were declining, seriously detrimental to municipal revenues.

I immediately noticed the turmoil my words had created. The good islanders had understood, for the first time, that Tiberius's bad reputation was jeopardizing Capri's fortune and their very future. Everyone realized the seriousness of the situation, but no one knew how to remedy it. So I suggested erecting an "expiatory inscription" in Capri's main square: a plaque that would make the truth public and, by rehabilitating the emperor's memory, restore Capri's good reputation. Everyone liked the proposal. The mayor, the pharmacist Carlo Ferraro, immediately agreed. He raised only one objection. Who would pay for the expense? I reassured him by offering to hold a series of paid lectures on Capri, as I had done in Rome. The proceeds would be used to erect the inscription.

Fortunately, my health had improved, the gastritis demon that had haunted me in Rome having subsided. On March 16, the anniversary of Tiberius's death, I gave the first lecture. Then I continued for another three days. From a financial standpoint, the result was satisfactory, thanks also to my friends in Detroit who lent a hand. We collected 1,500 lire. Now I'm resting, or rather, I'm considering how to actually build the monument. The plaque will be placed inside a portico erected in the square, in front of the bell tower. I have prepared, with the help of some Cambridge scholars (passing through Rome), the following draft of the inscription:

IMP. TIBERIO· CAESARI·AUG. 

QVI·SENECTUTEM·SECURAM·HIC·AGEBAT

SENATUS·POPULUSQUE·CAPREENSIS

INFAMES·POSTERORUM·FABULAS·DETESTATI 

OPTIMO·PRINCIPI·VIRO·GRAVISSIMO

A.D. MDCCCCXII·H.M.(B·M)P.” (172)

172 I translate: “To the Emperor Tiberius Caesar Augustus/ who spent a peaceful old age here/ the Senate and the people of Capri/ repudiating the infamous calumnies of posterity/ to the excellent prince and man most worthy of esteem/ in the Year of Our Lord 1912 placed this monument in good memory”.

*     *     *

Everyone liked the idea of ​​the epitaph. Even Pro Capri, a company subsidized by the Municipality (173) and founded in 1905 (174) with the specific aim of promoting the growth of tourism on Capri. (175) Foreign visitors were declining, and Pro Capri could no longer limit itself to "advising tourists on how to spend their time, and providing information on donkey and carriage fares." (176) New ideas were needed. Therefore, it was decided, immediately after the parchment was delivered, to ask Jerome for advice. Jerome responded (177) that the first measure should be the affixing of the epigraph to Tiberius. The presence of the epitaph, by improving the image of the island, would immediately increase tourism, and the beneficial effect would be further enhanced if "the important palace of the Emperor Tiberius, known as the Villa Jovis, was excavated."

The port problem, however, needed to be resolved immediately. It was no longer possible to continue ferrying tourists on small, uncomfortable and dangerous boats, especially in rough seas, upon the departure and arrival of the vaporetto. Jerome's proposal was simple: "In my youth, I had a certain familiarity with nautical problems, since my father had been a shipowner and captain. I have often wondered why Capri doesn't use a barge similar to those used in the port of Naples for loading and unloading goods to disembark tourists. The barge wouldn't need an engine. To move it, two ropes would suffice, fixed to the bow and stern respectively, one connected to the vaporetto's winch and the other to a winch on land. The barge would allow all passengers to disembark at the same time. The operation would therefore be not only safer but also quicker."

173 On the origins of Pro Capri see Romana De Angelis Bertolotti, Capri, from the kingdom of Italy to the years of fascism, Naples 2001, pp. 249-250. 

174 The president at the time was the Englishman Harold E. Trower. 

175 Pro Capri had its headquarters on the corner of Via Hohenzollern (now Via Vittorio Emanuele) and the alley leading to Via delle Botteghe, Money p. 122. 

176 Ibid. 

177 Letter of 20 January 1912. PTSJ, 1.8, 14 – 19.

The mosquito problem was also significant. The islanders paid no attention to them because they were thick-skinned, but for outsiders, the presence of those insects was a torment. Jerome would have liked to see them exterminated: "Capri can do without mosquitoes, and there is no reason why even a single one of these annoying insects should survive on the island. Mosquitoes can only reproduce if they have stagnant water. Their reproduction must be prevented by placing nets over the mouths of wells and cisterns, puddles must be drained, rainwater deposits in jars and vases must be eliminated, and cesspools must be hermetically sealed. That way, the mosquitoes will disappear from Capri."

Finally, Jerome suggested creating new walks: "Capri's main attraction is the view. The more views we offer, the longer tourists will stay. Therefore, I suggest completing the access to the Grotta Meravigliosa, repairing the path leading from the Grotta del Castiglione to Via Krupp, extending the path leading to the Grotta di Fra Felice (extending it to the valley between Via Tragara and the Certosa), making the Certosa more accessible, and improving access to the upper part of the Monacone. Some new walks could be created at little expense. Others, existing in the past, should be restored. I provide a list.

A path from the hills north of the Natural Arch leading to Villa Jovis, from where one could descend directly to Villa Fersen. 

A route that would allow one to circumnavigate Monte San Michele. 

A path connecting Palazzo a Mare with Porciello. And another that, walking along the edge of the rocky ridge, starts from Anacapri (more precisely from the cave beneath Barbarossa Castle) to reach the Grotta dell'Arco, overlooking Marina Piccola. From there, with somewhat costly work that would require rock cutting, proceeding first south and then west, one could reach the southern slopes of Monte Solaro. This last stretch would offer enchanting views, and would become the most beautiful walk on the island” (178).

178 After reading these proposals, which demonstrate how much Jerome loved walking and how deeply he knew the paths of Capri, it is difficult to understand how Cerio could affirm that Jerome was “insensitive to natural beauty”. (Cerio, pp. 241-241).

VI

Each book Jerome began to write grew like a tropical plant, and his body of work formed a pathless jungle, in which the author himself groped, trying to find his bearings. He worked day and night, dreaming of completing what he now considered a mission. However, doubt lingered in his heart. Perhaps none of his works would ever see the light of day. Fortunately, the plaque to Tiberius was a sure thing. Indeed, with the financial problem resolved, it could be considered accomplished. By the end of the year, everyone would be able to admire the inscription in Capri's piazza. All that remained was to submit the application to the City Hall. A formality, as confirmed by lawyer Francesco Margiotti, who had suggested having the American painter Morgan Heiskell and the Neapolitan lawyer Ferdinando De Chiara also sign the petition, so as to give it a less personal feel. The document was delivered to the City Hall on March 30. (179) The preamble explained that the earliest authors of Church history had spoken well of Tiberius, and assured that the redemption of "the good name of Tiberius and Capri from the filth with which it was smeared by human perfidy" would in no way offend religious sentiment. Tiberius had been a defender of Christ and the Church, not the pervert described by Tacitus and Suetonius: "Eusebius Pamphilus (bishop of Caesarea), Tertullian (who was one of the four supreme doctors), and Orosius (who was honored with particular esteem and friendship by St. Augustine) had a favorable opinion of the powerful monarch. And in the early centuries of the Church, it was widely believed that Tiberius had punished Pontius Pilate precisely for his role in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, whose divinity he was inclined to admit. So much so that serious conflicts arose between him and the Senate over this reason." The preamble had been introduced to reassure the parish priest, Don Giuseppe De Nardis, who twelve years earlier had erected a gigantic golden statue of the Madonna at Villa Jovis, on the terrace adjacent to the chapel of Santa Maria del Soccorso. (180) The monument had been erected to purify the site, which, according to erroneous tradition, had been desecrated by Tiberius's orgies. Now, after the explanation, it was hoped that Don Giuseppe would change his mind.

179 PTSJ, 1. 9, 12 – 21 a. 

180 Romana De Angelis Bertolotti, Capri, from the Kingdom of Italy to the Years of Fascism, cit., p. 108.

Having resolved this problem, the request went into detail: "That being said, in the hope of fulfilling the wishes of all those interested in the good reputation of Capri, some residents and friends of the island, on whose behalf the undersigned act, have happily agreed that the time has come for this country to come to an agreement with the best of modern scholarship and to publicly express its disapproval of the centuries-old and slanderous gossip, explicitly repudiating it. The aforementioned residents, thanks to voluntary donations, have accumulated the sum of fifteen hundred lire, to be spent on the erection of a plaque (in Latin and the four main living languages), which should be protected by a portico with columns of classical design and Greek style. To this end, a sketch of the small temple (181) and a draft of the inscription compiled by two eminent English scientists are attached. Therefore, we respectfully request Your Highnesses to authorize the representatives to carry out, with the means at their disposal, the indicated work in Piazza Umberto I, at the entrance to the carriageway. The most suitable site is west of the base of the bell tower, overlooking the passage to the funicular. The space required is approximately 3.50 meters along the base, with an overhang of approximately one meter. It should be noted that occupying this space, unsuitable for any other purpose, would not impede comfortable transit. No other location offers equal advantages and is so free from any potential inconvenience to the public. Finally, it should be noted that once the work is completed, on the occasion of its delivery to the Municipality, a civil service, however modest, would be appropriate and welcome to solemnize the event.

Jerome thought he had convinced the parish priest, but he was wrong. A few days later, on April 10, he received a letter from the priest: (182) “The lawyer Cavalier Margiotti came to me on his behalf to ask for my support for the plaque for Tiberius to be placed in the square. We exchanged a few words about Tiberius in relation to Jesus Christ, but I did not express my opinion. Unable to decide on my own, I immediately wrote to the Archbishop of Sorrento. He not only disapproves of the idea, but orders me to preach it to the people. I would not want to go that far so as not to displease you. Mr. Consul, I have been on good terms with you up to now, and I wish to remain so. Therefore, trusting in your kindness, I earnestly ask you not to pursue the idea and to withdraw for the moment the request made to the Municipality. When later on, historians have formed their opinion on what Your Excellency has studied with such interest in Capri, it will be time to return to it. But now it is too early. I would be very sorry if a popular petition to the contrary were to be started.”

American newspapers arrived in Capri fifteen days late. But news of the Titanic disaster arrived immediately, spread by Italian newspapers. The magnificent ocean liner, equipped with electric lighting and considered unsinkable, had sunk after striking an iceberg on the night of April 14th. More than fifteen hundred passengers, most of them Americans, died in the disaster.

Jerome learned of the catastrophe about ten days before receiving a second letter from the parish priest, and the accumulation of bad news caused him to suffer from gastritis. Don Giuseppe took care to convey to him the opinion of the Jesuit Gaspare Marii (183), editor of the magazine Civiltà Cattolica, who declared himself against the rehabilitation of Tiberius: "Accustomed to the now frequent rehabilitations of historical facts and figures - and it is enough to remember the latest, of the poet Sappho, attempted by Reinach in Paris, no later than a few weeks ago - it is not surprising that a man of study and erudition could have gathered such arguments as to present Tiberius in a light that is not that in which past generations saw him. But whatever the intrinsic value of the arguments, it would seem that a sense of simple scientific prudence a priori should advise greater thoughtfulness and circumspection before opposing, so suddenly and in an absolute tone, the traditional opinion of centuries, the private opinion of a scholar, respectable as one may wish, but private. There is nothing wrong with Mr. Jerome doing this on his own initiative and under his own responsibility! But for a scholar to do it at town hall on behalf of an entire people and with the solemnity of a marble plaque cannot be without detriment to the seriousness and respect that is owed to history".

181 See the “Construction project for a temple” signed by the master builder Luigi Desiderio. PTSJ, 1.9, 109. The estimate for the works amounted to a total of 1,063.50 lire. 

182 PTSJ, 1. 9, 21 b. 

183 The parish priest's letter was dated April 26. PTSJ, 1. 9, 23 b.

Jerome replied to the parish priest on April 27, (184): “I am most grateful to you for having shown me the letter of the most erudite Father; but he has done me too much honor. It was not I who initiated the rehabilitation of Tiberius. Many Italian and foreign scholars of the last century have written the same things. (185) Considering the matter to be at least uncertain, it seems to me that Capri should embrace the thesis most suited to its interests. It is not necessary to give credence to a falsehood just because it has been handed down for a long time. Would the Christian religion have triumphed if humanity had reasoned in that way nineteen centuries ago?”

The response from the Municipality arrived around mid-May (186). The mayor, having learned of the clergy's opposition, tried to gain time, and to do so he advanced a specious argument: "I have the honor to inform you that the request dated March 30th, signed by Your Excellency and by Mr. Morgan Heiskell and Mr. Ferdinando De Chiara, has been carefully examined and given the utmost consideration by this office. However, the City Council has decided that, since this is an event on behalf of the Council Assembly and the citizens, it would be appropriate for the City Hall to contribute to the cost of installing the proposed plaque. Therefore, in expressing the City Hall's heartfelt gratitude to the promoters of the initiative and the generous donors, I assure you that the matter will be submitted to the City Council for deliberation at the next autumn session, so that, when the budget is drawn up, it can also be established that the Municipality will contribute equitably to the execution of the proposed work."

184 PTSJ, 1. 9, 24. 

185 On this point too, Cerio accused Jerome of ignorance: “Perhaps [Jerome] did not even suspect that other seekers of truth had grazed on the field chosen to graze his imagination, and that the greatest doubter, Voltaire, had been the first to incriminate the veracity of Tacitus.” Cerio, p. 242. 

186 PTSJ, 1. 9, 26.

Jerome vented his displeasure to an old friend, William Savidge, who was staying at Villa Castello at the time. A founder of the Yondotega Club with Jerome, Savidge was wealthy and a student for pleasure. In 1904, the Witenagemote Club published his book, Comparative Prostitution: A Study of Ways and Means. He was very witty, and Norman Douglas also admired his sense of humor: "Every year he appeared in Capri during the summer months. He could always be found at the Caffe Morgano, surrounded by a circle of delighted listeners. He had a mine of spicy stories, and always brought a new supply from America." (187) Savidge, trying to console Jerome on this occasion, gave him some encouraging news. James B. Angell, president of the University of Michigan, had read some of Jerome's writings and had greatly enjoyed them. On May 28, Jerome wrote to Kelsey (188): "Savidge, now my guest, has just shown me the letter containing the flattering news that Dr. Angell has devoted some of his valuable time to reading my lucubrations. Savidge and I were at Pompeii the other day and had a look at the recent explorations. You've certainly heard about the new excavations on the Via dell'Abbondanza, and also about the discovery of the "Country House" (189), about a quarter of a mile from the end of the Via delle Tombe. When will you come to admire these discoveries?

Jerome was an extremely kind person, but when he read the mayor's hypocritical response, he became enraged. On June 12, 1901, setting aside the caution Margiotti had advised him to do, he wrote to the City Council, pointing out, "in a spirit of respectful and sincere friendship," that the proposal to postpone any decision until the fall was senseless and would benefit "those opposed to the program." Was this what was desired? If the public administration had truly wanted to contribute to the expense, nothing would have prevented it from allocating a sum to "embellish the monument, such as surrounding it with an iron railing, or adding a bust of Tiberius."

187 Douglas, p. 413. 

188 PTSJ, 1.1, 22 – 23. 

189 This is the Villa of the Mysteries, the excavation of which began on 29 April 1909. 

190 PTSJ, 1. 9, 43 - 48.

Jerome repeated the same things, in even more explicit terms, in a confidential letter (191) addressed personally to the mayor, in which he asked why he pretended to ignore facts "perhaps better known to you than to me." Did he not remember going to Villa Castello to congratulate him and thank him for having "demonstrated with facts that the legend of Tiberian atrocities and infamies handed down to us by some untruthful historian was false"? Did he forget that he had agreed that it was necessary to "dissociate Capri from the legendary Tiberian scandals by means of a public inscription to the emperor"? And that the entire municipal council had on that occasion approved the posting of the plaque?

The Pro Capri society, through its president Harold E. Trower, had also applauded the initiative. Trower had written to Jerome on February 2, (192): "We will find the right way to persuade these Municipal Authorities to implement Your Most Illustrious Lordship's brilliant idea. We will use our influence, driven as we are by the conviction that the plaque proclaiming the claim will bring new splendor to the name of Capri." Even Don Giuseppe had initially expressed his agreement. The lawyer Margiotti had visited him "to acquaint him with the writings of the early Christian historians, who were very favorable to the said emperor." After the meeting, Margiotti reported that "the Reverend parish priest gladly approved the project."

Jerome had organized the conferences, which had raised 1,500 lire, "a sufficient amount of money," and had personally handled ticket sales: "Nearly two-thirds of that sum was donated by friends from Capri who did not live on the island, at my request. The remainder was obtained from residents, most of them women." One would therefore have expected some gratitude. Instead, "here now arises a silent and hidden opposition, to which one cannot respond since its origin is unknown." What did the mayor think of the anonymous letter that was circulating, which claimed that with the epigraph to Tiberius "the pederasts of Capri wanted to glorify their emperor"? To demonstrate the falsity of this ridiculous accusation, it would have been enough "to read the names of the contributors, most of whom are women." The letter concluded with a personal outburst: “You, Mr. Ferraro, can well imagine how discouraging this appears to friends interested in the well-being of Capri, and how much it hurts them to know that any project and aid for the beautification of the island is so poorly received and frustrated.”

191 PTSJ, 1. 9, 85 - 87. 

192 PTSJ, 1. 9, 29.

What had started as a public interest initiative was gradually turning into a battle. The mayor sent a copy of Jerome's letter to the parish priest, and on June 15th the latter sent a threatening message to the American lawyer (193): "I enclose (confirming it entirely) a letter of mine dated April 10th, which was not sent to you only because it was hoped to bring about the idea of ​​the plaque in another way. But since you have again applied to the Municipality, and stated in it that I approved the project, I feel obliged to send it to you, just as I find it among my papers, so that you know the truth of what I said to Cavalier Margiotti. I also add that our Most Excellent Archbishop is strongly opposed to the plaque, but not for the reason you indicated to this Mr. Mayor. And finally, I inform you that in Rome I consulted, in addition to Father Marii and two other distinguished writers of Civiltà Cattolica, also Baron Kausler and Commendator Marucchi, well known for their archaeological studies relating to the period. Romana, and two others whom I will not name. And they were all against the plaque to be erected in the name of the Municipality and the people. And not only those of Rome; but in these two months I consulted other Italian and foreign professors. They all agree that such a plaque in the name of our people cannot be erected without making us look ridiculous. Excuse me: that's what they said, and so I report to you candidly. Therefore, today, as on April 10th, I earnestly urge you to withdraw your request. Otherwise, a petition to the contrary will be presented to the Municipality. I would not want to go that far, lest I displease you and the American Colony, to which (be assured) Capri is very grateful. And I say this not only on my own behalf, but also on behalf of others, who, along with me, hope that you will withdraw the project and thus put an end to the incident for the sake of peace. Dear Lord, grant my request (I earnestly beg you) and assure me of what I hope with a kind, prompt, and consoling response. I will be eternally grateful to you.”

Gastritis and the physical and mental exertion had exhausted Jerome, but his spirit remained as strong as ever. Nothing would make him accept surrender. The parish priest then carried out his threat, instructing Alfredo Clark, (194) the son of the doctor who had founded the Quisisana, to collect signatures in the church at the end of Mass. On June 18, the petition, prepared by Don Giuseppe and signed by 154 signatories, (195) was deposited at the Town Hall. The petition stated that it was motivated by scientific considerations: "We do not wish to assume responsibility before history, nor do we wish to run the risk of being accused of lack of seriousness by so many learned men who gather here." On this basis, the posting of the plaque was rejected: "Now, at least, is not the time to enshrine in marble an unconditional eulogy of that emperor."

193 PTSJ, 1. 9, 49 – 51. 

194 PTSJ, 1.9, 19. 

195 See Appendix. PTSJ, 1. 9, 52 a – 52 b. While several women contributed money for the gravestone, all the signatories to the petition were male. Why weren't women also asked to sign the petition?

At that point, as happens in any conflict, both sides scrambled to find allies. Margiotti advised Jerome to seek the support of an eminent scholar capable of countering the objections raised by the clergy; such as Umberto Silvagni (196), a professor at the University of Bologna, to whom Jerome wrote on July 8: "I take the liberty of sending you, in a separate envelope, a modest publication of mine on Tiberius, considering myself honored if you, an eminent writer of ancient history, will deign to read it and grant it a place in your library. In dependence on what I have also recently written about Tiberius, an initiative has gained ground on this island: that of affixing an epigraph with which the islanders, remembering the long stay of the Roman monarch in Capri, protest against the monstrous turpitudes attributed to him by certain untruthful historians. The epigraph was drawn up with the collaboration of Dr. John Bagnell Bury (197), ​​Regius Professor of Cambridge, and Prof. Gordon MacNeil Rushforth of Oxford, author of the work Historical Latin Inscriptions. This initiative, suddenly and at the moment in which it was about to be translated into effect, The parish priest and several of his followers opposed it. Consequently, the municipal authorities, initially compliant, are now hesitant. In support of the proposal, I did not fail to present to the Town Hall the many publications, old and new, favorable to Tiberius, including your valuable volume, The Empire and the Women of the Caesars. But what is most sought from the City Councilors is the definitive opinion of an eminent historian himself on the appropriateness or otherwise of the aforementioned plaque. In this juncture, I dare to address you with the humble and earnest request that you please send me your authoritative and enlightened opinion on the matter.

On July 19, 1918, Jerome was officially informed that on June 18, 1912, "150 citizens, including influential and prominent Capri notables," had signed "a public petition opposing the installation of the proposed inscription." The mayor announced that the City Council, finding itself uncertain, had "decided to seek the authoritative opinion of some of the most distinguished Italian scientists, versed in historical studies and research, on the matter."

196 PTSJ, 1. 9, 53 – 54. 

197 John Bagnell Bury (1861 – 1927), classical philologist, Professor of Modern History at Cambridge University from 1902 to 1927, author of treatises on Roman and Greek history, and editor of the first modern edition of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. 

198 PTSJ, 1. 9, 56.

Jerome was eager to know who, besides the parish priest, his opponents were. So he asked Margiotti to provide him with the list and note, next to each name, the signatory's occupation. He then grouped the names into categories and drew up the following "Classification of the Signatories of the Petition to the Town Hall Against the Tiberian Inscription." (199)

From the list it emerged that the majority of the signatories were semi-literate, or even illiterate, who certainly did not feel the need to assume "responsibility before History", nor did they fear "being accused of lack of seriousness by the many scholars who gather here".

The case of Harold Trower and Ignazio Cerio was different. Trower, being English and a scholar of Capri's history, should have been his ally in theory, and perhaps he would have acted as such had he not been such a naturally ambiguous character. Like all touchy individuals, he was unintelligent, and he felt very important because he held the honorary post of Consular Agent to Her Britannic Majesty. Jerome had been useful to him six years earlier, when he published his Book of Capri. Without Jerome's support, Trower had admitted in the preface, "this book could not have been undertaken or completed." But now that assistance had been forgotten.

199 PTSJ, 1. 9, 79. See the list of signatories in the Appendix.

Ignazio Cerio, Capri's local doctor, was, on the contrary, highly intelligent and cultured. His genius drove him to delve not only into medicine, but also into archaeology, geology, botany, and zoology. Up until that point, his relationship with Jerome had been excellent, and even his three sons, Arturo, Giorgio, and Edwin, considered themselves friends of Jerome. Now he too had abandoned him, and together with the parish priest, he led the opposition. This was incomprehensible. Perhaps Compton Mackenzie was right when he called the Cerios a strange family: "Predictable, perhaps; but with tortuous thinking, extremely difficult to interpret." (200)

Giorgio Cerio, a practicing physician in Rome, was going through a difficult time at the time. His wife, Jenny, had abandoned him a year earlier. According to rumors in Capri, Jenny's escape had been prompted by the discovery that her husband was having an affair with their young maid, a certain Venere Savoldelli. Giorgio protested his innocence, but Jenny had not returned. Giorgio was desperate. Jerome had written to console him, and on July 24th he had replied (201): “I have no words to express the comfort your letter has given me, easing a pain that has now lasted a year. I appreciate with all my heart what you write to me, and I give you my word as a gentleman. What you said is true. I have nothing to reproach myself for. [Between Jenny and me] there was no quarrel, no misunderstanding, not a word of anger, not a bad thought. You, who are a psychologist, can understand how, in a person who finds himself in a particular situation, mental disorders can arise capable of giving rise to the desire for the ‘new,’ the ‘different,’ and ‘change.’ The aspiration for anything that distances one from the atmosphere in which that condition was created. This is what happened to Jenny. You yourself, when you saw her in June, noticed the state of tension she was in. The last letter she wrote to me begins with the words ‘you have always been too good,’ and ends with ‘forgive me, and God bless you.’ I have heard that horrible rumors are circulating about me in Capri, which saddens me even more. However, those who are spreading them are people I cannot consider friends. In the meantime, the marriage has been annulled by the Court of Rome, pursuant to Article 124 of the Civil Code. (202) I had to do so to safeguard my prestige, on which my position and my career depend. Naturally, I only started the procedure several months after Jenny left, and during that time I did everything humanly possible to bring her back. So here I am now, alone in the world, with only the comfort of work and friends.” 

200 VF, p. 126. 

201 PTSJ, 3.17, 2-8. 

202 Article 124 of the Civil Code states that “The spouse may at any time challenge the marriage of the other spouse; if the nullity of the first marriage is contested, this issue must be judged first.” Jenny Ungaro, in order to marry Giorgio Cerio in 1902, had obtained the annulment of a previous marriage. Cerio had now contested the validity of that annulment.

*     *     *

While Giorgio sought Jerome's support, his father Ignazio did everything possible to thwart the tombstone project. On August 26, Dr. Cerio, who was on vacation in Rocca di Papa, wrote to the mayor of Capri: "During my stay here and in Rome, I did not fail to consult scholars and competent people to get their opinion regarding the tombstone that they want to place on Capri to rehabilitate the Emperor Tiberius. But from those I consulted, I received the opinion that it was too hasty a step to take (or that they wanted to take) on Capri, even recognizing the undoubted merits of all the writers who have tried to exonerate the Roman emperor from the ferocious accusations of Tacitus and Suetonius. From the illustrious Corrado Ricci, I received the letter that I faithfully transcribe here, and of which I retain the original.

General Director of Antiquities and Fine Arts Rome, 

14 August 1912

Dear Sir, 

For the sake of sincerity, I must tell you that I see no point in such a broad and resounding rehabilitation of the Emperor Tiberius. It may well be that he was better than his reputation was. It is now highly probable, after the results of recent critical work on Tacitus's Annals, to start with Sievers and Stahr. (205) But one only needs to read Gaston Boissier's Tacitus to recognize that the question is far from being resolved, and that in any case one must still be very cautious in one's judgments. As for the text of the epigraph, allow me to offer you a few considerations. Don't you think the first line would sound more Roman if it began: Tiberio Caesari Divi Aug. F. Augusto? Wouldn't it be better to substitute detestantes for detestati? And don't you think the "Gravissimo" is too much, more appropriate to a Cato than a Tiberius?

Take my observations into account as you wish, while remaining firm in my belief that the placing of the plaque is inappropriate. Best regards, Yours truly.

203 PTSJ, 1. 9, 57 – 59. 

204 Corrado Ricci (1858-1934), eminent art historian, author of important monographic studies on Michelangelo, Correggio, and the mosaics of Ravenna. 

205 Cf. Vittorio Imbriani, “The fame of Capri (about Adolfo Stahr's Tiberio)” in Almanacco Caprese, no. 3, Capri 1991, pp. 14-25.

Corrado Ricci 

After the unanimous opinion of the scholars I consulted, even though I am not aware of those gathered by the other members of the Commission, I feel it is my duty to express to the gentlemen of the Municipal Council my modest opinion, namely that such a solemn rehabilitation as that of placing a plaque praising the virtues of Tiberius is premature and inappropriate, not accepted or recognized by the unanimous consensus of archaeologists and historians".

*     *     *

On August 31, Giorgio Cerio wrote again to Jerome (206): “I think you will be pleased to know that finally, after thirteen months, I have received a nice letter from Jenny. She has learned of the annulment of the marriage, and seems to have recovered her senses. It was what she wanted, the only thing capable of making her feel at peace with her conscience. I had foreseen it: the news would calm her and bring her back. Now our relationship is that of two good friends, interested in each other and ready to help each other. I will be grateful if you will communicate the news of her reappearance to Coleman, the Andrewses, Trower, and any friends you may happen to meet.”

On September 3, Jenny addressed Jerome (207) directly: “Just a few lines from your poor, unfortunate friend Jenny, to tell you that I am traveling in Italy with relatives. I have heard of the cancellation, and I must say that I finally feel at peace. For years I have wished to be able to ease my conscience towards Giorgio. But he was too good and too noble to grant it to me. That is why I went to live with my relatives. Fortunately, it is all over now. In any case, Giorgio was the noblest and most upright man I have ever known. I bless you with all my heart for any kindness you can extend to him. Many affectionate greetings from your unfortunate friend Jenny.”

206 PTSJ, 3.17, 13-15. 

207 PTSJ, 3.17, 16-17.

VII

With its dozens of cafes, restaurants, and nightclubs, Capri is today a haven of high society and entertainment, and it's hard to believe that a century ago the island could have been so boring. The only meeting place was the Caffè Morgano, frequented by Germans (then considered, along with the Swiss, the poorest of Europe) and therefore snubbed by the English, French, and Americans. The Anglo-Saxons had more than once attempted to found a club that evoked the atmosphere of the clubs of London and New York; where one could drink a decent-quality whisky, play bridge, criticize the stupidity of the "natives," read (albeit belatedly) the London and New York newspapers, and organize a New Year's Eve dance party. Various attempts had followed. The first had led to the founding of the International Club, established in 1899 at Via Tragara 208, which was short-lived. The expenses were too high for the number of members, who numbered about twenty. The International was followed by the Capri Club, which suffered the same fate. A third experiment was carried out in May 1912 by Heiskell, Coleman, and Jerome. The three founded the Island Club, (209) which was based in a small apartment not far from the Piazza. These were the same rooms where Berta and Harold Trower had lived before moving to Villa Cesina. The Island Club began operations at the end of August. The statute, drawn up by Jerome, provided for an "entrance fee" of 15 lire and an annual fee of 60 lire. There were eighteen members: ten Americans, (210) five English, (211) and three Italians. (212) The Board of Directors consisted of a president, Alexander ("Sandie") Grahame, and three directors, Heiskell, Coleman, and Jerome. The Island Club, which was supposed to be based on friendship and a spirit of collaboration, instead turned out to be a hotbed of controversy and quarrels. Harold Trower, as British consul, would have demanded a seat on the council. Deeply offended by his exclusion, he did not suspect that he had been left out precisely because of his touchiness: "[Trower] had studied at Harrow and then at the law school at Balliol, but had never practiced law. He had lived in Australia, then in Belgium, and finally in Florida, where he devoted himself to growing oranges. In America he had married Berta Peck, a widow with two daughters to support. Harold was rather poor, and relied on what he could scrounge from his English relatives. As for Berta, she had a modest annuity tied to a property in New York. When they arrived in Capri, in 1895, they were therefore unable to buy a house. They lived for two short periods in rented houses and then settled in Villa Cesina as tenants of the Scoppa family. Trower was not well regarded, neither by the islanders nor by the foreign residents. A veneer of superficial respectability contrasted in him with violent manners and surprisingly wicked eyes. Elusive, always pompous and prone to inane jokes, he never spoke to anyone in the street, and when walking around the island he usually carried a parasol. Aware of his failing youth, he was determined to exercise what authority he could in Capri, thanks to his self-appointed role as head of the English colony, first as a lay representative of the church of Ognissanti, and then, from 1900, as a British consular agent. In addition to being disliked by a large part of the congregation, Trower usually found himself at loggerheads with every new chaplain sent annually by the Society for the Spread of the Gospel, serving from November to May.” (213)

208 Romana De Angelis Bertolotti, Capri, from the Kingdom of Italy to the Years of Fascism, cit., pp. 29-30. 

209 PTSJ, 1.6. 

210 Coleman, Andrews, Heiskell (Sr.), Heiskell (Jr.), Stotesbury, Kirby, Morton, Savage, Kevin, Jerome. 

211 Trower, Blake, Grahame, Clark, Spadding. 

212 The lawyer Ferdinando De Chiara, the pianist Francesco Santoliquido, and the painter Riccardo Fainardi. The latter had come to live in Capri from Parma, where he had met a German banker, Ugo Andreas, who had built a small chapel dedicated to Saint Andrew for the fishermen of Marina Piccola. The design and construction of the chapel had been entrusted to Fainardi, who had painted a triptych with scenes from the life of the Saint on the altar. “The chapel, consecrated in 1900, was gratefully welcomed by the fishermen, but when Andreas discovered that Fainardi was having an affair with his young wife Emma, ​​unable to bear to remain on the island, he returned to Germany, where he died in 1901, whether of a heart attack or suicide is unknown. Emma inherited the villa and married Fainardi.” Money, pp. 86-87.

213 Money, p. 98.

Trower thought Jerome had excluded him from the Island Club board to avenge his signature on the petition promoted by the parish priest. But he couldn't say so openly. So he decided to attack Sandie Grahame, Jerome's choice as president of the club. Grahame was virtually unknown. He had arrived in Capri with his wife, Sophie, a year earlier, and all that was known about him was that he had studied at Cambridge and lived in the Far East. Sure, he had the accent of a well-born Scotsman. But was that enough? Grahame was downing one glass of whisky after another, and it didn't take much to realize he was an alcoholic. (214)

On September 30, 1912, Trower wrote to Jerome (215): “I am writing to you as a member of the Board of the Island Club to inform you that during the month, five bottles of Gin, three of Canadian Club, and eight of Black & White have been purchased at the Caffè Morgano, far more than has been consumed in recent months. Considering that the president is currently drunk, and has been so for several days, I request that greater control be exercised over whisky purchases. I hope you will not think that I am meddling in matters that do not concern me.” Jerome replied on October 1, (216): “Thank you for drawing my attention to this inconvenience. I will organize a Board meeting as soon as possible to take action. I trust that the unpleasant situation I had heard about is temporary and will soon be resolved. I had similar problems myself, years ago. I hope everything will be resolved. How can you think that you are interfering? It displeases me as much as it does you. Every member of the Club has the right to express his or her opinion. You once said to me, ‘We cannot always be of the same opinion.’ I replied that I agreed. Could I not recognize the same right today? I have always believed in the proverb that says, ‘If everyone thought alike, there would be no horse racing.’ So have no fear. Your letter is not interference.”

214 Money, p. 151. 

215 PTSJ, 1.6, 75-76. 

216 PTSJ, 1.6, 77-78.

On the same day, (217) Trower replied to Jerome: (218) “Personally, I have no objection to anyone getting drunk. He can do it as much as he likes, as long as he can control his tongue. Even drunks must respect the rules of good manners. Therefore, I believe that certain ‘amenities’ should have remained within the confines of our little Club. Thank you for the courteous and reasonable tone of your note.”

*     *     *

Jerome viewed the tombstone issue as a legal dispute, in which he was the defense attorney for the defendant Tiberius. The parish priest, on the other hand, was the public prosecutor, seeking to secure a conviction against Tiberius from the panel of judges formed by the city council. In an attempt to gather evidence in favor of the accused, Jerome had turned to a Roman scholar from Turin, Professor Guglielmo Ferraro, who replied on October 8, 1912 (219): "I have received your essay on Tacitus and Tiberius. Thank you. The study is perceptive and beautiful, and I agree with the conclusions it reaches. My book, Characters and Events of Roman History, was not published in Italian. Therefore, there is no work of mine written in my language in which that judgment on the emperor Tiberius can be found. But, if you believe that my opinion can be of any weight with the authorities of Capri, I gladly declare that the beautiful inscription of Messrs. Bury and Rushforth seems to me to express the historical truth with Latin conciseness. I firmly trust, when I write the sixth volume of the history of Rome, to demonstrate how the Capri legend is, in the history of Tiberius, an infamous and absurd legend invented by partisan hatred to vilify the last illustrious Roman emperor and champion of Rome's great aristocratic tradition. If Tacitus was wrong to lend the bright colors of his palette to this crude legend, he did not succeed in confusing truth and falsehood in such a way that later posterity would be unable to render Tiberius the justice he deserves; of which you have set a fine example. Make whatever use of this letter you deem most appropriate.

217 The letters that the "gentlemen" sent to each other on the island were delivered by personal servants. This explains the rapidity of the correspondence exchanges. 

218 Letter of October 1, 1912. PTSJ, 1.6, 86-89. 

219 PTSJ, 1. 9, 60-61.

Ferraro's testimony was all the more valid because it had been delivered without hesitation. But Silvagni's response, which arrived from Lyon in early November, (220), presented a serious flaw. Silvagni began by declaring himself in full agreement with Jerome: “Your gracious letter, after long wanderings and several stops, has reached me here, where I will be staying for some time. I have also received The Tacitean Tiberius, which I have read and pondered with great admiration for the author's learning and his truly rare and original spirit of observation. Everything you say about rhetoricians, rhetoric, and History written as a rhetorical exercise is admirable and has considerable weight in the need for every honest and enlightened reader not to believe the calumnies liberally spread by Tacitus and Suetonius against the Emperors. I need not tell you, most illustrious sir, that I agree with all your judgments. Therefore, I find it natural—and I would add, obligatory—the plaque that you and your illustrious friends have proposed to place in Capri. I do not understand, however, the reasons for the parish priest's opposition. Why does he oppose it? No one who has reflected even a little on Roman History can substantiate a single one of the calumnies of Tacitus and Suetonius. It is enough to read these two authors to see them in flagrant contradiction. Tiberius has nothing to do with the Church, with Christians, and with the martyrs. Granted that Nero burned Christians (I touched on the subject in my book, which you kindly recall), he was the first persecutor. Tiberius, innocent in the death of Christ, is pure of Christian blood and never did anything against the followers of the Messiah. Indeed, it was he who, to those who advised him to persecute political opinions, uttered the golden maxim: "In a free state, language and thought must remain free." The rehabilitation of Tiberius would be a bit like that of Capri. Why must this enchanting island continue to be contaminated, after some twenty centuries, by a legend of bloody obscenities, of nefarious lusts, of ferocious vengeance, which were never committed there?

After so many fine words, however, Silvagni's testimony lost its effectiveness. The professor, in fact, suggested reaching a humiliating compromise: "If the opposition were only about the somewhat bold form of the inscription, could we not, to overcome the historical doubts of some, reach an agreement by changing the last two lines (from infamous to grave), to say something like 'that historical criticism purged, vindicating the great captain, the third founder of the empire'? It is an idea I put forward in the hope of a conciliation, only as a means of eliminating some resistance. The proposed inscription is too beautiful and too Roman. Once we remove the optimo principi [to the excellent prince] and the infames posterorum fabulas [the infamous slanders of posterity], I hope that the parish priest of Capri will no longer have reason to oppose it."

220 Letter of November 2, 1912. PTSJ, 1. 9, 62 – 64.

Had the suggestion been followed, the plaque would have become useless. Jerome would have been tortured rather than remove that "optimo principi." The mere thought brought on a bout of gastritis. On November 14, he responded (221), apologizing for the delay ("I have been ill in bed for several days") and explaining that his opponents were more perfidious than Silvagni imagined: "The opposition of the parish priest and his followers is not such as to be easily stemmed by modifying or deleting some words from the inscription." In any case, accepting the compromise would have meant renouncing the fundamental principle of justice: "As far as I'm concerned, I think there would be no reason to affix the plaque if one renounced explicitly denying the infamous stories of the future." Tiberius's innocence, after twenty centuries of slander, had to be loudly proclaimed.

At that point, Jerome's gastritis was compounded by insomnia. He tossed and turned in bed for hours, tormented by anxiety, wondering if there was still anything he could do. One night, he decided to turn to Ettore Pais, (222) considered the foremost authority in Italy on Roman history. A favorable opinion from Pais would have offset Ricci's negative one. On December 12, he wrote to him (223): "Perhaps you will be pleased to hear about the plan that has gained traction on this island. That is, to place a lapidary inscription with which the islanders, commemorating the Roman monarch's long stay on Capri, protest the monstrous turpitude attributed to him by some historians. But the ancient legend of the orgies is pushing some to oppose the project. The City Council—initially favorable—would like to hear the opinion of a distinguished Italian historian. In this juncture, I dare to address you, expressing the respectful request that you please send me your authoritative and enlightened opinion on the matter."

While waiting for Pais's reply, Jerome received a letter from Freer (224). Charlie was recovering: "After months of stagnation, finally in October, as soon as the air cooled, the expected improvement occurred. I am happy to inform you that my strength is returning. I spent the entire month of October in the Berkshire Hills of Massachusetts, benefiting from the change of air. For the first time, I was able to take some physical exercise. The benefit was immediate, so much so that I was then able to devote four or five hours to my favorite pursuits. Finally, several things that had been pending for a long time will be crossed off the list, one after another. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to share this news with you. At the same time, I ask you to forgive me for the delay in acknowledging receipt of the pamphlets you sent me. I have wanted to write to you many times. I would have liked to tell you with what interest I read them. Unfortunately, illness prevented me. I am sure you understand the reason for my silence."

221 PTSJ, 1. 9, 65. 

222 Ettore Pais (1856-1939), author, among other things, of a monumental History of Rome from its origins to the beginning of the Punic Wars and from the Punic Wars to Caesar Augustus (Rome 1918). His polemic with Benedetto Croce in 1903, when Pais was director of the National Museum of Naples, was memorable. The philosopher had accused him in the pages of the magazine Napoli Nobilissima of character and managerial shortcomings, resulting in his being relieved of his position. 

223 PTSJ, 1. 9, 68 – 70 a. 

224 Letter of 13 December 1912. PTSJ, 1.13.

Once again, Charlie described the changes that had taken place in Detroit in recent years. The city had changed, unfortunately not for the better, but the old Yondotega remained alive and well: “Even the Yondotega has received its share of prosperity. Five of us went public and bought the plot of land adjacent to the garden. Then we built a wall that almost completely obscures the building from the street. The reclamation of new spaces, made necessary by increased car use, will provide parking for the members. I'm sure that when you see the change, you'll agree. The Yondotega is getting busier, which is boosting revenue. After Ruben's death, Lewis, who, as you may remember, was one of the waiters, took over as the house manager. You'll be pleased to know that the replacement has brought about an improvement. The members are happier, especially because the disappearances of food and drinks have stopped.”

While waiting for Pais's slow response, on December 14th Jerome sent a new letter to the mayor. (225) A year had passed, and in all that time the committee had never met. The negative opinion of Corrado Ricci, an eminent archaeologist, but "not very versed in scientific research on the history of the Roman Empire," could not be taken at face value. The parish priest had asked that the words "in the name of the Municipality and the People" be removed from the epigraph, and this could have been done. For his part, there would have been "no objection to modifying the inscription," in the sense that the Municipality and the people would appear "only as consenting to the necessary authorization." But unfortunately, that was not the point. The mayor knew full well that it was a specious argument. In any case, there was now an urgent situation. Jerome found himself "in the position of no longer being able to retain possession of money collected for a purpose that appears useless." This forced him to demand that the municipality inform him within two weeks whether it intended to accept the money. Failure to respond would result in the money being returned to the subscribers.

225 PTSJ, 1. 9, 74 – 78.

After sending the letter, Jerome wondered if he hadn't been too harsh. But the more time passed, the more the matter of Tiberio's rehabilitation took on the character of a matter of vital importance for him. And that constant alternation of good and bad news, of hopes and disappointments, was having a detrimental effect on his health. Nausea, cramps, and heartburn were now a daily occurrence, and, more worryingly, he had noticed traces of blood in his vomit. His illness was worsening. Yetta then sent for a specialist from Naples, Professor Malbranc, who recommended the usual measures: a dairy diet, avoiding spices and fats, better chewing of food, and above all, a peaceful life. Then, before leaving, he offered a piece of advice: why not take a short trip to distract himself?

The suggestion was timely. In early spring, a conference was being held in London that he had been thinking of attending. For him and Yetta, it would be a long-awaited vacation. They would visit museums, go to the theater, and dine at the finest restaurants. On December 16, Jerome wrote to Kelsey: "Next April, from the 3rd to the 9th, there will be an international historical conference in London, which I would like to attend. I intend to present a paper on the origin of the legends about Tiberius's orgies on Capri, falsehoods that arose about thirty years before Tiberius's arrival on Capri, during the period when he was in Rhodes and Julia and her lovers were trying in every way to defame him by spreading all sorts of scandalous slanders about him in Rome." Jerome would have liked to appear at the conference as a representative of Michigan University: "If the University had no intention of sending additional delegates and would allow me to represent them, I would be happy to do so. If my credentials require me to specify my educational qualifications, I would remind you that I hold a Master of Arts degree from Harvard University."

Jerome explained to Kelsey that the pains of gastritis and the battle against the Capri clergy had forced him to partially suspend his work: "The year 1912 witnessed an incredible sequence of events in Capri, stemming from the opposition of the Capri clergy to my plan to erect a tombstone to Tiberius. The municipal council trembles at the prospect of having to make a decision. I recently presented an ultimatum, imposing a decision by January 1st. Otherwise, they will lose the fifteen hundred lire raised through my lectures." Because of that battle, he had stopped work on Roman Census, while Roman Vice, his major work on ancient Roman ethics, was moving forward: "The project calls for a two-volume work, with different publishers in England and America."

226 PTSJ, 1.4, 44 – 47.

Unfortunately, Jerome was lying. In the last four years, Roman Vice had made no progress. The truth was that he "had become even thinner, and his bearded, emaciated face seemed almost transparent. His voice had become feeble. Behind some of the old-fashioned jokes, a profound weariness could be sensed, as if he were now convinced he would never finish the book, and hoped that death would now free him from this heavy commitment." (227) Only the prospect of the trip to London managed to reawaken a little optimism in him.

On December 21, Pais's reply finally arrived, having left Rome the previous day. (228) "Our mutual friend F.F. Abbott had spoken to me about your studies, and I thank you for your pamphlet. I agree that legend has tarnished the image of Tiberius. (229) An old disciple of mine, Professor Ciaceri of the University of Padua, published two or three years ago, in my periodical Studi Storici, some essays on the high treason trials that would lead to the exoneration of Tiberius. He was certainly a man of great qualities and superior intelligence, even if not free from guilt and ungenerosity towards Germanicus. As for your invitation to me to publicly express my opinion, I thank you; but I wish the content of this letter to remain absolutely private. At the moment our studies are completely neglected in Italy, or rather they are in the hands of people who live on advertising. For my part, I love quiet and relaxation, and I don't want anyone to talk about me. This year I'll be reading Tacitus' Annals at school, so I'll have the opportunity to introduce your work to the students."

Pais's response was as enigmatic as the Delphic oracle. The professor avoided expressing an opinion, and at the same time asked for secrecy. But about what? The letter seemed written by a madman. Perhaps Benedetto Croce (230) was right when he claimed that Pais suffered from paranoia. Or perhaps the professor was aware of Corrado Ricci's rejection of the plaque, and the prospect of entering into a dispute with the powerful director general of the Ministry of Antiquities and Fine Arts terrified him. In a somewhat naive attempt to force him to come out into the open, Jerome then wrote to him a second time: (231) “The contents of your letter will of course remain entirely private, as you wish. However, would it be indiscreet and inappropriate if I limited myself to saying that, given the denigration of the image of Tiberius by legend, and given the criticism of legend by modern scholars, you prefer not to enter into a discussion that pits legend against scholarship? I await a courteous reply.” But Pais was astute, and to avoid falling into a trap, he did not reply to the letter.

227 VF, p. 275. 

228 PTSJ, 1. 9, 70 b–71. The Italian postal service, of course, functioned excellently a century ago. 

229 Later, in a collection of essays entitled Rome, from the Ancient to the New Empire (Milan, 1939), essentially aimed at extolling the merits of the fascist regime and attacking British imperialism, Pais examined the question of Tiberius's orgies in Capri. His opinion turned out to be diametrically opposed to that of Jerome. In chapter XXV, entitled “Did Tacitus slander the Emperor Tiberius?”, he wrote (on page 358): “Not a few of those who today pose as scholars are often dilettantes, moved in part by the desire to give prominence to their writings by advocating baseless claims”; p. 368: “Tradition, with the exception of the Campanian Velleius, flatterer of all the powerful, is unanimous in affirming that especially in his last years Tiberius, already inclined by nature towards secret love affairs, abandoned himself to shameless lust, to dark dissimulation while he ruminated on ferocious revenge even against those he pretended to consider his friends”. 

230 Cfr. Benedetto Croce, Napoli Nobilissima, XIII (1904), p. 93: “Was it not known by all that he had become famous, where he found himself as a teacher, for his turbulence and the ability he had to go to war with all his colleagues, and to believe himself persecuted and actually become a persecutor?”.

The Capri plaque, which had already been studied by Italian and English humanists, also attracted the attention of the German cultural world when a friend of the mayor, a certain Professor Chiaradia, a literature teacher at the Sessa Aurunca high school, decided to consult Julius Beloch, (232) the internationally renowned historian. Beloch responded from Leipzig on January 15, 1913. (233)

As for the epigraph, I note that Tiberius did not receive divine honors. Therefore, if one wanted to include it, the epigraph should be conceived in these terms:

You. Caesari divi Augusti f. August

Principi optimo ac iustissimo

Ordo populusque Capreensis” (234)

Senatus”, for the municipal council of a small town would be too solemn. The ethnaicon ‘Capreensis’ is found in Suetonius (Tib. 43). For the epigraph I used as a model an honorary inscription, placed to Tiberius himself and found in Bignano Flaminio in the Agro Capenate (CIL. XI.3872. Dessau 159). I will not enter here into the question of whether or not it is appropriate to place the epigraph. In any case, it would seem appropriate to delete the words infames posterorum fabulas detestati”.

Even Beloch suggested eliminating the "infamous posterorum fabulas detestati" (235)! Hadn't even the eminent scholar understood the importance of those four words, without which the inscription would become superfluous? No, that wasn't possible. The explanation had to be sought elsewhere. Like Pais, Beloch had also been afraid of compromising himself. The news that Corrado Ricci had declared himself opposed to the plaque must have reached Germany.

231 Letter of December 21, 1912. PTSJ, 1. 9, 103 – 104. 

232 Karl Julius Beloch (1854-1920), author of, among other things, Campanien and Griechische Geschichte. 

233 PTSJ, 1.9, 103. 

234 “To Tiberius Caesar Augustus, son of the Divine Augustus/ excellent and most just prince/ the municipal council and the people of Capri.” 

235 “Repudiating the infamous calumnies of posterity.”

It wasn't easy for Jerome to accept defeat. The lawyer had done everything he could to prove the defendant's innocence, but he had lost the case. For weeks, anger and despair, the desire for revenge and resignation, alternated in his heart. When the latter emotion finally prevailed, he nevertheless wanted to give himself a reward: he would write thirty pages to inform posterity of the infamous treatment to which he and Tiberius had been subjected: a sort of "message in a bottle," launched into the waves and accompanied by the hope that someone would pick it up. The pamphlet, printed in Naples and titled Tiberius on Capri in 1912, (236) opened with a preface: “This little book tells the story of an inscription that was meant to express the Capri people’s rejection of the legends surrounding the island’s first great scandal. It aims to show the extent to which conservatives can exert power, the difficulty of getting new ideas accepted, and the stubbornness based on social and psychological motivations. It is dedicated to the subscribers to the fund for the tombstone, and to any other person who can say, like Terence, I am a human being; and there is nothing human that does not concern me.” (237)

IX

History sometimes plays strange tricks. A persecutor can become the persecuted, or vice versa. And then the tricks of history are called "God's justice" (or "Fate's," depending on one's religious beliefs). Harold Trower, who had sided with Tiberius's slanderers, became the victim of slander himself in February 1913. Alexander Grahame, the president of the Island Club (who a year earlier had replaced Trower as administrator of the Anglican church) had in fact begun spreading a rumor heard "by two ladies who regularly attend our church." Trower allegedly received a "hidden commission" from Master Desiderio, (238) when, on behalf of the congregation, he had entrusted him with the construction of the church porch. The "commission" would have consisted of the free addition of a room to his house. On March 9, Jerome received a letter from Bertha Trower, who asked him, as her lawyer, to defend her husband: “My room was built, and paid for, before the idea of ​​building the porch even arose. I paid for it with my own money, which arrived from America via the Holmes Bank of Naples, in May 1911. If it were up to me, I would resolve everything with a shrug of the shoulders. Unfortunately, however, my poor husband cannot find peace. In his place, I would take the weight off my chest by telling dear Grahame the gossip circulating in Capri about him. Harold, on the other hand, absolutely wants to counter the slander. Could you, as a lawyer and friend, advise us on how to achieve this result? Would a statement from Mastro Desiderio suffice? Or would a face-to-face meeting with the two ladies be better?”

236 PTSJ, 1.9, 8 a – 70 b. 

237 PTSJ, 1.9, 9. 

238 Mackenzie also recounts in Vestal Fire that Trower had received a commission on the work on the porch of the Anglican church. Cf. VF, pp. 99 and 128. 

239 PTSJ, 1.6, 121-131.

Jerome's (240) response was kind, while still suggesting that Harold's deplorable behavior in the epigraph affair had not been forgotten: "In your husband's place, I would fight the slander with all my might, though it would not be easy. Men prefer to believe what they like, and attach little (or no) importance to evidence. Reasoning has no hold on the minds of those who want to believe scandal. One can only succeed in disproving a story if the listener really wants to know the truth, and frankly I do not believe that there is much love for truth in Capri at this moment."

But there was another way to solve the problem: "There's a different sentiment in Capri today, which could prove useful in your case. Among us foreigners, the feeling is starting to spread that there are too many gossips around, and this is creating a general attitude of disapproval toward slanderers. The unmasking of a slanderer could therefore be successful if it were perceived as part of a broader 'cleansing operation.' The ridiculous accusation against your husband therefore offers an opportunity to appeal to this sentiment."

Even then, Jerome, who was courtesy personified, would have been happy to help. On other occasions, thanks to his diplomatic skill, he had often smoothed over minor disagreements between members of the foreign community. This time, however, the altercation between Trower and Grahame had come at the wrong time. He now had more pressing matters to attend to, with which Yetta, who was still behaving unreliably, would not be able to help him. He had to prepare his speech at the London conference so as not to disgrace himself before the eminent scholars who would be attending. And he had to make travel arrangements, booking train tickets and hotels.

240 Letter of March 11, 1913. PTSJ, 1.6, 133.

The trip was perfect also because, to avoid him missing Capri, London welcomed him—a most unusual occurrence—with a series of splendid sunny days: a clear propitious sign sent by Jupiter. At the conference, Jerome delivered his speech with such brilliance and force of conviction that several attendees came to congratulate him. Everyone recognized that the application of legal techniques to the resolution of historical problems represented a great innovation. From London, Jerome and Yetta sent postcards to friends, both in America and in Italy. They sent one to Professor Malbranc to thank him for the suggestion. The London holiday had worked like excellent therapy, and had even managed to erase the tombstone issue from Tom's mind for all that time.

*     *     *

The trip to London had had a beneficial effect on Jerome's health, and now Freer, too, was beginning to feel better. Along with his strength came his desire to buy works of art. Like all collectors, Freer was insatiable. Above all, he would have liked to find other manuscripts as valuable as his Gospels, which would become famous once Professor Henry A. Sanders completed his study and the existence of the precious codices was made known. First, however, he wanted to ensure that the abandoned library in the desert, hidden beneath the sand, contained no other treasures; and to make sure, he sent Sanders to Cairo. At the end of March he received a report from the scholar (241): “March 11, 1913. Here I am at last, after a pleasant journey. Last night at seven o’clock, with Dr. Worrel, I went to see old Ali Arabi. I gave him his letter, and he placed it on his forehead. Then he bowed gravely and put it in one of his capacious pockets, saying he would read it later. Then he approached the safe and began to take out manuscripts and fragments of parchment. First he showed some Coptic material and a couple of Arabic fragments, which did not appear to be of great value. Then he explained that he had already sold the best of them to Mr. J. P. Morgan. And then, having created in us an anxious expectation, he took out the treasure: a large ancient Greek manuscript which he began to extract from the paper that wrapped it with slow movements, as if for a show. You can imagine my surprise when I realized that it was not a new thing: it was the thirteenth-century lesson. that Naham had offered her four years ago, and which we had refused. I had examined it carefully at the time. I told Ali Arabi, and he asked me why we had rejected it. I replied that we had not wanted it because Naham had lied to us, telling us that it came from Dimay, the same place where the Washington Gospels had been found. Ali Arabi smiled. Naham was incorrigible: he was ruining the market with his lies. To which I added that the manuscript had not even been found in Egypt. It came from another place, and had been brought to Cairo only to sell it for a higher price.

241 PTSJ, 67.7.

To get a sense of the situation, Sanders had decided to go to Dimay to inspect the excavation site from which the Gospels had come: “At that point I asked, very cautiously, if it would be possible to visit Dimay. Shaking his head, Ali Arabi replied: ‘Too dangerous.’ I made it clear that I only wanted to see the place; I certainly had no intention of digging. He explained: ‘There’s still stuff there. We must proceed with caution.’ At that point I showed the letter I had for the dragoman Ibrahim Ali; at which point, realizing that I would be going to Dimay anyway, he seemed convinced. He would come to my hotel the next day with Ibrahim, after four o’clock. The next day, however, the two Alis did not show up, and so, convinced that Ali Arabi had exaggerated the difficulties and dangers of the journey, Dr. Worrell and I decided to go to Dimay alone. We will leave tomorrow and go to Fayoum. We will cross the lake, taking food and a tent with us. The Worrell's servant. We'll spend the first day in Dimay, and on the second day we'll explore the hills. If we find anything interesting, we'll stay longer. To avoid any trouble, we've decided to wear Turkish costume. I'll pretend to be a geologist, and Worrell will play the part of a government official.

March 15. We completed the expedition. Everything went as planned. It took us two hours from the station to Lake Karoun, and another three to find a boat and make the crossing. The lake is shallow and unnavigable in summer. The journey to Dimay was short; we walked for a couple of hours while the wind blew sand in our eyes and the sun blinded us. The ruins, visible from afar, were imposing. The city's outer walls are largely destroyed, but their outline is still discernible. The citadel's high fortifications, however, are almost intact. Everything corresponds to Grenfell's description of them in 1896.

Sanders and Worrell had found no evidence of recent exploration: "Ali Arabi's men are not currently excavating in Dimay or its immediate vicinity, but that doesn't mean the manuscripts weren't found there. Perhaps everything was dug up at once and the hole was immediately filled in. Now, however, I have more doubts than before. We haven't encountered the guards, Bedouins, wolves, and snakes that Ali Arabi had promised us."

In Cairo, Sanders visited Ali Arabi, and together with Ibrahim Ali, he traveled to Giza. On the way, the dragoman revealed that he had been to Dimay and had seen the site where the Gospel manuscripts had been excavated: “They were in a tomb within the city walls, located among the mountains of rubble east of the citadel. I had explored that area and noticed signs of excavation, most of which had been erased. Sheikh Ali confirmed the story, adding that the excavations had been suspended for over a year after the government had placed guards there. I don't know if the two lied to me. If they did, they told plausible lies. I will only be convinced when I have proof that other similar objects come from the same place. For now, I remain doubtful.”

*     *     *

The Washington Gospels were published in early May. (242) Kelsey broke the news to Jerome, announcing the arrival of a copy: “Send me a few lines of confirmation when you receive it, or I’ll send you another. Your name is at the top of the list, but the Italian postal service is unreliable.”

At the end of May, the press made the discovery public. The London Times and the Chicago Daily News reported that Charles L. Freer, the Detroit multimillionaire "renowned for the secrecy he enjoys cloaking himself in," had purchased in Egypt six years earlier "a new version of the Gospels of St. Mark, St. Matthew, St. John, and St. Luke." He had made the purchase to satisfy his curiosity, unaware that they were priceless objects. The newspapers also recalled Freer's merits as a patron of the arts, having donated money and works of art worth over $1.5 million to the Smithsonian Institute in Washington eight years earlier.

*     *     *

The letters Jerome received from Kelsey contained pleasant and encouraging news. On May 10, the professor wrote: "I was delighted to learn of your success in London. The University of Michigan could not have been better represented. I follow your research with interest, and we will discuss your publication plans in person, since I must come to Italy to revise the third English edition of Mau's Pompeii. The task, pleasant in itself, is saddened by the thought that Mau, with whom I was a friend in distant and happy years of study, is no longer with us."

The improvement in Jerome's health achieved by the trip to London was short-lived. After returning, Yetta began to suffer from hallucinations and persecution mania. She would invent stories that she later believed, and she would show exaggerated affection and sympathy toward a person who then, suddenly and for no reason, became hateful. Madness can be contagious. Yetta's behavior made Jerome anxious and irritable. He began to think about the gravestone, and this brought on a return of gastritis.

242 H. A. Sanders, Facsimile of the Washington Manuscript of the Four Gospels in the Freer Collection, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1912. 

243 Letter of May 10, 1913. PTSJ, 1.1, 33-34. 

244 Ibid. 

245 Kelsey had edited the first translation in 1899. 

246 August Mau had died four years earlier, in 1909.

If only he had a place to spend a few hours in peace! A place where he could chat quietly with friends and forget his worries. Never before had Jerome missed his beloved Yondotega more than in those days. Unfortunately, even the Island Club no longer existed in Capri, having been forced to close its doors due to the president's drunkenness and the constant bickering among the members. And, as if that weren't enough, Trower continued to harass him with irritating fussiness, complaining about the failure to return the capital stock. At the end of May, she wrote to him: "I hope you won't think me annoying if I dare point something out to you. The Island Club's board of directors should explain the club's dissolution to its members, while also providing financial clarifications. I have a fair amount of experience with clubs, and I have never seen this kind of courtesy and formality neglected. The same procedures were followed when the International Club in Capri was dissolved, and a substantial portion of its capital was redistributed among the members. I hope I won't be considered impatient, given that the Island Club has now been defunct for about six months."

Around mid-November, news of Jenny Cerio's death reached Capri. Jerome wrote Giorgio a letter of condolence. The friend replied (248): “This evening, having returned [to Rome] from Turin, I found your letter. I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness. Jenny, poor child, is here with me again, but lifeless. My heart is broken by this terrible misfortune, which marks the limit of the persecution exercised by the cruelest fate. Jenny was about to go to Milan, to take care of her interests deposited at the Banca Commerciale (247). Then in December she would have gone, as usual, to Nice to join her aunt. On November 2nd, she suffered a relapse of the same illness that had struck her when she lived in Capri, in the small apartment near Villa Alba. That time I immediately took her to Naples, and managed to save her by having her undergo surgery. In Turin, however, Jenny was living with friends, and she didn’t understand that the illness could degenerate into fatal peritonitis. Her friends suggested calling a doctor, but she refused. She replied that she knew there was nothing serious about it, and that she would soon recover. By the 7th, peritonitis was already at hand, and the doctor who finally examined her informed her family of the danger. However, she replied that she knew what she was talking about and that she wasn't as ill as they wanted her to believe. In any case, she said she wanted to wait a couple of days. But by then it was too late. The next day she fainted, and wasn't even able to give her friends my name and address. She didn't realize she was about to die. She passed away on the evening of the 8th, and was still convinced she would make it. Therefore, the family hosting her was unable to immediately tell me the news. (249)

247 Letter of May 21, 1913. PTSJ, 1.6, 143-145. 

248 Letter of November 23, 1913. PTSJ, 3.17, 18-25. 

249 Money (p. 160) provides a different version of the circumstances that caused Jenny's death: “Giorgio Cerio, who found Capri too narrow for his ambitions, had moved with his wife Jenny to Rome, where his skill, good looks and tact, combined with his wife's connections, allowed him to start a flourishing business, particularly with the foreign colony, where his good English gave him an advantage over the Roman doctors. It was in this way that Giorgio met Mabel Norman, a wealthy American artist with a studio in Rome, whose family had many properties and business interests in Newporth, Rhode Island. For Giorgio it was the long-awaited opportunity, and he began the process of separating from Jenny and marrying Mabel. To obtain an annulment he invoked the lack of children, and having had one he returned to the United States. Jenny attempted suicide by throwing herself into the sea. They saved her, but she contracted pneumonia and died in 1913. Giorgio had a tomb erected for her in porphyry, engraved with the words ‘Jenny’ and ‘Pace’. It can still be seen, pompous and indestructible, in the Catholic cemetery of Capri.”

Poor Jenny left written instructions that (in case anything happened to her) she would like to be buried in the Catholic cemetery on Capri alongside her parents, who are currently buried in Naples. She left instructions regarding the tomb, along with the sum needed to erect it. In her will, dated January 10, 1913, she named me her executor. No other wills have been found so far. Given the circumstances, even if the story [of my affair with Venus] were still circulating [on Capri], I would be forced to disregard it and carry out Jenny's wishes to the letter. I will therefore have to erect her tomb and take her there in the spring with her parents. I think you will be pleased to see how perfect our relationship was. I will show you some of Jenny's letters. Despite everything, the gossips will continue their attempts at defamation. Fortunately, I have friends like you, and so the poison cannot reach my veins. I have one last mission to accomplish for my dear departed friend. [That of erecting her tomb]. I will do it with a clear conscience and an honest heart. I count on your approval, which will be enough to sustain me in this sad moment. I am certain that what I have reported will justify your affectionate approval. Tell me everything about yourself. What is happening to your health? Why don't you try to come here [to Rome] so we can try to cure you once and for all? Save yourself, and try to go to bed early. Your life is too precious to risk. Convey my affectionate greetings to Yetta, and believe the grateful heart of your friend Giorgio Cerio.

The meaning of the phrase “even if the story [of my relationship with Venus] were still circulating” was better clarified in another letter sent by Giorgio on December 2 (250): “I was sorry to learn that you were not well, but I hope this letter will find you on your feet again. I had intended to write to you earlier. Unfortunately, I have been very busy these days. I am grateful to you for having expressed a point of view that I find substantially correct. I would just like to make a few considerations. I cherish the illusion that the best part of Capri, the only part that interests me, now sees things as they really are. The story of Venus (251) is in their minds a thing of the past. However, it can continue to circulate only among the lower classes, where evil tongues will insist on getting involved in any case. I should ignore them, because, if I tried to exonerate myself, it would be a case of excusatio non pentita accusatio manifesta. The situation is this: I am the executor of poor Jenny's will, who left me the majority of what she owned. and left Venus a sum of money and all her personal belongings. This would be enough to demonstrate Jenny's opinion of me, and how much she loved little Venus (in December she wanted to see her in Milan, and Venus spent a week with her). If the story that Jenny had left me because of Venus continues, the aforementioned testamentary provisions should be enough to disprove it. Venus also has several very affectionate letters from Jenny. I will let you read them privately so that you can, should the opportunity arise, confirm the affectionate relationship between Jenny and Venus.

When Jenny gave her details [to her hosts], she said she was from Capri. So the news first reached Capri, from where my father wrote to my brother here to inform him. Thus I learned that poor Jenny had died, and I immediately left for Turin, where I learned further details. Jenny received the best possible care. Unfortunately, not mine, and that breaks my heart. But it's useless to fight against what is inevitable. The problem [of her illness] lay in a congenital malformation. If the doctors had known, they could have attempted surgery. However, the attack had begun mildly and therefore had not caused alarm. Jenny's belief that she could recover on her own pushed her to wait, until collapse set in. Her sacred remains were temporarily placed in a niche. Yesterday I took possession of it, and this evening we arrived here together. All that remains for me to do is to care for her as long as I live, and to bury her beneath the small monument I will have erected in Capri, according to her wishes. Memories of the past, too moving for me, have kept me away from Capri for a long time. From now on, you will see me more often. I will keep Jenny here in a temporary crypt until the tomb is ready. Then we will come together to Capri once more. Spare me the pain of telling these things to our mutual friends. Tell them this sad episode, part of a longer story. Perhaps the saddest episode for me, among so many sad stories.

251 Venere Savoldelli was one of four sisters who, along with her brother, worked in Giorgio Cerio's household. She was born in Capri on February 24, 1891. Her father, Luigi, was a teacher from Clusone (province of Bergamo). Giorgio Cerio left Venere (along with her sisters?) Villa Jenny on Via Camerelle as a legacy. I thank Enzo Di Tucci and Giovanni Schettino for the information. 

252 Venere was twenty-two years old at the time.

*     *     *

On January 9, Freer wrote to Jerome (253): “It has been a long time since I was able to write to you. I am glad to be able to dictate these lines today. I spent the last summer in the Berkshire Hills, trying to regain my strength. I was painless, but progress was slow. I spent the whole day outdoors. However, the doctors forbade all activity, both physical and mental, which explains the long silence. During the last trimester, I had ups and downs, in and out of hospitals and hotels. The house in Detroit was practically closed all year. I was able to reopen it in December, after a new treatment allowed me to regain some strength. If the improvements continue, I will be able to accomplish things once more. I should work hard on my collection, and I am eager to begin. During the months of enforced idleness, I have been making plans. I have thought about the museum I intend to build in Washington, the cultural activities I would like to promote in China, and the completion of the collections. Now I am beginning to work again. From your letter, and from the ones Coleman sends me, I understand that you have had health problems in recent months. I know you have been forced to remain confined to your home. I hope it is not serious, and I hope your work has not suffered. How is the book going? Will you be able to get it out next year? You will have learned from the Detroit newspapers of the passing of some of our friends. So there is no need to repeat the sad list. Yondotega remains in fashion. You may be interested to know that I have abandoned the office downtown and built a small building next to the house where my employees manage the collections. This is a convenient solution, since it saves me from having to go out.” 

253 PTSJ, 1.13, 65.

Despite Charlie's feigned optimism and Tom's equally pathetic attempts to joke about his own ailments, it's not hard to see that the two friends realized they were nearing the end of the line. Death's scythe strikes blindly, regardless of precedence. Freer, who was older and seemed in worse condition, would be granted five more years of life by Fate. Jerome, who was younger, was running out of time. He himself seemed to have realized this: "The entirely unnatural existence he had managed to live for so many years seemed to be coming to an end. His best friends had long been telling him that he couldn't continue to ruin himself physically; but he listened to no one. Year after year, growing paler and thinner, he insisted on working all night." (254) Houses age and get sick like people. Even Villa Castello was no longer the luxurious residence it once was: “Nothing had changed for years. The rooms were dustier. There were more bookmarks sticking out of the books. Yetta had lost the last traces of her dark beauty. The old scholar's dressing gown was dirtier, and the ash had made more holes in the fabric. And he looked more and more like a skeleton. He still hadn't written the first word of his book on Roman ethics.” (255)

On April 5, Jerome wrote his last letter to Kelsey: “I now realize that last summer, in planning to complete two books at once, I bit off more than I could chew. I practically only managed to finish Roman Memories, for which I had made commitments to the publisher. Morgan Heiskell did the illustrations. The preliminary part of Roman Vice remained unfinished. I had hoped to be able to write two volumes, for a total of 300,000 words, but at the end of September I had to stop. A relentless and ferocious gastric daemon has confined me to bed for nearly six months, and still growls every now and then. The doctors speak of nervous dyspepsia, but I don’t believe it. I have the feeling that a part of my body is putrefying inside me, which suggests the existence of an organic lesion. I consider myself fortunate that at the end of January, I don’t know how, I managed to complete Roman Memories. With trepidation, I am sending the first chapters in a separate package. You will see that it cannot be called a scientific publication, but neither a text for schoolgirls. Let's say it is aimed at an average type of reader, neither saints nor devils. I hope that the illustrations and other editorial frills will succeed in attracting potential readers, and that someone, starting to leaf through the book out of curiosity, will remain trapped.”

254 VF, p. 339. 

255 VF, p. 321. 

256 PTSJ, 1.1, 35–35.

Charlie’s last letter to Tom, which left America on April 9, (257), arrived too late. In it, Freer announced the receipt of a copy of Roman Memories, Jerome's first and only book to be published after fifteen years of work: "I am late in replying to you because of the doctors and nurses, who treat me like an invalid, even forbidding me to dictate letters. Since I received your letter of December 31st, I have enjoyed rereading it and retracing its tortuous labyrinths. I like everything you write, even the grumbles and complaints. The copy of Roman Memories arrived today. I have already put the book in the bag that will accompany me to New York. Tonight, in the sleeping car, I will take a first look at it. I have not been well for the last four weeks. Therefore, the doctors have suggested that I go to Atlantic City. There I will rest for a month, hoping for a change of air. If all goes well, I will be able to return to Detroit and resume some work. In Atlantic City I will have the opportunity to read your book at leisure. I will write to you as soon as possible to tell you my impressions."

The last guest at Villa Castello was A.W. Van Buren, secretary of the American Academy in Rome. On April 14, he had the sad task of sending Kelsey the telegram announcing Jerome's death (258): "Consul Jerome died in Capri at midnight on Easter Sunday, April 12, of gastric hemorrhage." And again from a letter from Van Buren, (259) Kelsey later received further details: "I imagine that by the time you receive this letter, you will have already learned, from my telegram, the sad news of Mr. Jerome's death. He died last night at midnight, after a collapse caused by loss of blood from a stomach hemorrhage. A week ago, he had already suffered another, less serious, internal hemorrhage. Present at the time of his death were, together with me, the attending physician, Dr. Camillo Feo, a nurse from the Anglo-American Nursing Home in Rome, who had arrived twelve hours earlier, the painter Coleman, a longtime neighbor, and Mr. Churchill, the British Consul in Naples. The housekeeper, Henrietta, was at home, but we spared her the distressing scene. The burial will take place this afternoon, in the Protestant cemetery of Capri. The American Consul was here yesterday, and has given Morgan Heiskell instructions and powers to act on his behalf. Everything possible has been done for the patient; both by the housekeeper and by his friends, as well as by the attending physician and the specialist, Professor M. Malbranc (260), and by the excellent nurse. As late as midday yesterday, the doctors, although aware of the patient's extreme weakness, hoped that he would be able to overcome the crisis. Instead, poor Jerome worsened again during the evening. I have nothing further to add. The Consulate of Naples and Mr. Heiskell will do what is necessary to safeguard the interests of the estate. It is not necessary to recall what a loss to historical studies Jerome's passing represents, and how great is the grief of his many friends.

257 PTSJ, 1.13, 67. 

258 PTSJ, 1. 12 a, 4. 

259 1.12 a, 2-3. 

260 Professor Malbranc, doctor of the English colony in Naples, had his office in Rione Amedeo, N. 45. During 1914 he had visited Jerome twelve times (four in Capri and eight in Naples). Norman Douglas speaks of Malbranc in Business Cards: “He was a friend of mine, a friendly and well-liked doctor, who had an experience from which, as he himself said, he never recovered. He happened to be in Ischia at the time of the 1883 earthquake, which killed seven thousand people in less than twenty seconds. Malbranc survived, and for three days and three nights straight he worked without interruption digging up the survivors and bandaging their wounds.” Douglas, pp. 352-353.

Jerome had passed away at midnight. Three hours later, Morgan Heiskell, the self-appointed "custodian" of the consular agency, had set out with efficiency and energy. He had jolted the mayor out of bed to inform him of the death, and immediately afterwards had climbed the Tuoro hill on foot to send a telegram to Naples from the semaphore. Getting there in the dark of night hadn't been easy, but it had been worth it. Thus, Heiskell had managed to send the telegram to Jay White, the American consul, who, having received it at five in the morning, was able to catch the nine o'clock boat. When death comes, haste becomes futile. But Heiskell didn't think so, since that night he woke half of Capri. Arriving at Villa Castello, White found the mayor and four councilors who had been there since seven. A great sacrifice, since it was Easter Sunday. Then Morgan Heiskell borrowed $261 (261) from his father to cover initial expenses and began taking care of the various formalities. Yetta was exempted from any duties because she was subject to hysterical outbursts which made her aggressive (262).

The first problem Heiskell faced was burial. Jerome had stated in his will that "the choice of where I will be buried leaves me indifferent." This meant it was unclear whether the body should be buried on Capri or transported to the United States. While awaiting instructions, it was therefore essential to arrange for embalming. The task of managing this operation was entrusted to Mariano Morgano, the freight forwarder who usually handled the repatriation of foreign bodies. Morgan then asked Kelsey for compensation of "350 to 400 lire" (263), justifying his request as follows: "Regarding my work, much of it certainly not pleasant, carried out last year (from the night of Mr. T. S. Jerome's death until the arrival of the arrangements for the final burial) and for my work now rendered to you, it is logical and right that I too should be compensated. I remind you that everything was entrusted to me, under my absolute responsibility and guarantee, and in particular the preparation of the body, which I had to assist for hours. And then I had to take care of the final packaging for export. As you know, the body was in advanced decomposition, and the bad smell emanating from it was unbearable. I was disturbed by it for over a week. I did not write to Mr. Savidge to be compensated, because I was assured that a person would come from America to liquidate everything, which in reality has happened with your visit. For this work, I have always received 350 to 400 lire from other foreigners. I defer to you, asking you to kindly keep in mind the other work I have performed on your behalf during your stay here.

261 Letter from Morgan Heiskell's father, W. P. Heiskell, to William Savidge, dated March 24, 1915. PTSJ, 3.18, 32-33. 

262 Cf. Coleman's letter to Freer, May 7, 1914: “Yetta is more or less aggressive at times, but on the whole maintains a firm demeanor.” CLFP. 

263 Letter to Kelsey, March 25, 1915. PTSJ, 3.21, 4.

Jerome's death was a topic of conversation in Capri for some time, and gossip was rife there too. In the chatter at the Caffè Morgano, or in the gossip that animated the villas at teatime, various causes were put forward. Some said that Jerome's health had been ruined by the excesses of his youth, namely the nights spent in Detroit clubs playing poker and emptying bottles of whiskey. Others jokingly insinuated that Yetta's cooking, too laden with spices, might have been what killed him. (264) But there were some, like Edwin Cerio, who claimed that Jerome had been poisoned for motives of self-interest, and indicated that lead salts were the poisonous substance Yetta had given him. (265) The people of Capri fight among themselves, sometimes ferociously; but in difficult times they rediscover the ancient spirit of island silence. No one in Capri mentioned among the causes of Jerome's death the disappointment and pain caused by the inhabitants themselves, who had sabotaged the realization of his great dream. 

X

I, Jay White, Consul of the United States of America in Naples, having been informed by telegram of the death of the American citizen Mr. Thomas Spencer Jerome, which occurred in Capri on the night of April 11, 1914, have today, April 13, 1914, gone to Capri to the last residence of the deceased, to provide for the custody and safeguarding of all the contents therein in the interest of the heirs and third parties...". Thus began the inventory of the furniture and furnishings of Villa Castello (266), carried out by Consul White with the collaboration of Vice-Consul Biar and Secretary Gargiulo; an inventory which took five days despite the fact that, as the list showed, the villa contained no valuable objects. The majority of the furnishings and furniture in the villa had been purchased from Neapolitan second-hand dealers. The only exceptions were the eight precious Japanese "kakemono" originally belonging to Freer, which decorated the dining room, in addition to the Garland kitchen and the Triumph icebox which had arrived from America. The furniture in Jerome's room was almost Spartan: "a large white enameled iron bed with brass knobs, three walnut chests of drawers, a mirror, a leather armchair, a small sofa, a round table, a mahogany chair, and an oriental rug." The contents of Yetta's room, adjacent to Jerome's, were excluded from the inventory as they were not included among the estate's assets.

264 Cfr. VF, p. 105: “That wasted look of his was due not only to the nights spent studying, but also to the terrible Middle Western American cuisine that she served him.” 

265 Jerome, according to Cerio, died “in 1914 from lead poisoning fed to him in his food by a woman he had wanted to make his Aspasia but who, knowing she was his heir, preferred to play the most profitable part of Atropos.” Cerio, p. 248.

266 PTSJ, 3.3, 24-33.

*     *     *

Accustomed to the simplicity of Anglo-Saxon law, Jerome found Italian law difficult to interpret. For this reason, to prevent interference from overzealous judges, he had deemed it appropriate to prepare two wills "for administrative convenience." The first, in English and dated July 25, 1911 (267), was to be considered "true." The other, dated October 1, 1911 (268), was drawn up "according to Italian law," for the sole purpose of "facilitating [the executors'] management of my assets in Italy." In the "true" will, Jerome explained the existence of "an Italian will, wherein I [fictitiously] bequeath to Mr. Charles L. Freer of Detroit my real property in Capri, and [fictitiously] bequeath to Miss Henrietta Sophia Rupp my movable property in Italy." While in the “fictitious” will Jerome declared that Freer was “co-owner of the Villa Castello in Capri, purchased by me and him in equal shares,” in the “real” will he clarified that “The title to the Villa Castello in Capri was originally registered in the names of Mr. Charles L. Freer and myself, and has remained so in the public records. However, in reality prior to this will (269) I purchased from Mr. Freer, and paid in full, as per the receipt in my possession, all right and title to the said property. From which it follows that I am the sole owner.” Finally, to make the matter even more intricate, Jerome had declared in the “real” will that “some validity remains to my Italian will.” In short, he had created a mess that even Coleman could not understand: “I cannot understand how dear Jerome, despite his intelligence, decided to make two wills, one in English and one in Italian, without realizing that this would have enormously complicated matters” (270).

267 PTSJ, 3.1, 15-24. Jerome had an Italian translation of this will prepared (PTSJ, 3.1, 3-13). 

268 ANN. Notary deed by Luigi Cariello, April 20, 1914, No. 21. 

269 And even before August 13, 1907, the date of the Italian will. 

270 Letter from Coleman to Kelsey, March 18, 1915. PTSJ, 3.18, 27-28. The problem of the two wills then created further complications when registering the deed of sale in Italy. In fact, while in the “fictitious” will Jerome named Morgan Heiskell as executor, in the “real” will he entrusted the same task “to the Union Trust Company, a Detroit (Michigan) corporation.” The Italian lawyers, unable to determine which of the two executors actually had the power of signature, resolved the issue by having Union Trust issue a power of attorney to Morgan Heiskell, who in turn entrusted the matter to the Neapolitan lawyer Alfredo Romolo Cerulli.

Coleman himself then wrote to Freer on August 17, telling him of the disasters Yetta was causing. To which Freer replied (271) that the news did not surprise him, since he expected anything from that woman: “Your information regarding Yetta’s behavior does not surprise me, even if it does grieve me. I have known about that woman’s ‘peculiarities’ for too long, and many years ago I expressed my suspicions about their origin. Now, of course, given the circumstances, I do not want and cannot express my thoughts on her misdeeds, which I would not even discuss with my best friend. Nor do I have the slightest intention of protesting what she is doing with the objects and furnishings of Villa Castello that once belonged to me. Yetta can do exactly what she wants. A clause in Tom’s will offers me the option of buying back the villa at the price I paid, but I have informed the executors that I will not exercise this right. I do not foresee spending much time on Capri in the future, and I would not know what to do with the property. Tom left Yetta everything he owned on the island, with the sole exception of the house.” I believe that, given the situation, the best thing is to consider her completely free to dispose of those assets."

*     *     *

The "real" will contained a clause granting Freer the right to purchase the villa, with all its contents, for $6,200, an extremely reasonable price. But Villa Castello was part of a sad past that Freer preferred to forget. The property was thus sold for $11,000 (272) to Mrs. Alice Tweed Andrews, an American widow originally from Cincinnati, who had two children: Edith and Vernon. (273) The sale took place by proxy in America on November 2, 1914. On that date, the preliminary agreement was signed and a deposit of $1,000 was paid to Union Trust. The final contract was signed on December 7, again in America, at the same time as the payment of the remaining $10,000. (274) As soon as the formalities were completed, Morgan Heiskell, informed by telegram, was instructed to go and deliver the keys to Mrs. Tweed Andrews. However, she was bedridden with the flu and was only able to take possession of the house on December 19th. This is significant because Yetta thus remained in possession of the villa for another twelve days, and during that time she was able to carry out the destruction we will discuss shortly.

271 CLFP. Letter of September 10, 1914. 

272 ​​That is, 55,000 lire, since one dollar was worth five lire at the time. The contract registered in Italy instead indicated the figure of 46,000 lire, to save on taxes. 

273 The Tweed Andrews lived at Villa Alba, a stone's throw from Jerome's house. 

274 The Countess du Besse, who lived in Rome, had declared herself willing to pay a higher price. But the Union Trust preferred to sell to Mrs. Andrews. Letter of February 25, 1915 to Kelsey from W. P. Heiskell (Morgan's father), who lived at Villa Sanfelice (PTSJ, 3.18, 21-22). Du Besse then purchased a piece of land (the "farm") from Coleman, and built a villa on it.

Jerome and Freer had paid 20,000 lire for Villa Castello, but the house's "treasure" was the library, which cost 26,000 lire. Jerome had given Yetta the right to remove five hundred books, chosen "from among the non-classical works," while the remaining three thousand five hundred were to be divided between Michigan University and the American Academy in Rome, according to instructions given by William Savidge. Had Yetta been sane, the transfer of ownership of the library could have occurred calmly, given that Mrs. Tweed Andrews was willing to store Jerome's books and papers for as long as necessary. Instead, on December 29, Mrs. Tweed Andrews had to inform Hobart B. Hoyt (276), vice-president of the Union Trust, that Yetta had caused extensive damage to the house in recent days. At the same time, William Savidge was informed that Yetta had begun burning the books. Savidge and Hoyt realized that someone had to be sent to Capri immediately to prevent further disasters. On January 7, 1915, Kelsey wrote to Freer (277): "William Savidge came to see me the day before yesterday to ask if I would be willing to go to Capri to collect the manuscripts left by Jerome and arrange for the division of the library with the American Academy in Rome." Kelsey did not think it appropriate to mention Yetta, to avoid touching a sensitive point. He probably knew the part she had played in the dispute between the two friends. On January 18, he received the powers of attorney and ten days later boarded the Canopic. On February 13, he arrived in Naples (278), and on March 1, he was able to send Savidge and Hoyt a first report (279).

275 Letter from William Savidge to Morgan Heiskell, December 8, 1914. PTSJ, 3.18, 1-3. 

276 The communication was through the Cincinnati attorneys Worthington, Strong, and Stettinius. 

277 PTSJ, 68.1. 

278 Kelsey lived at the Hotel Vesuvio from February 13 to 15. 

279 PTSJ, 3.3, 5-22. From February 15 to 26, Kelsey lived at the Quisisana.

Upon arrival in Naples, the weather was terrible, and the sea was so rough that it made the journey to Capri impossible. Only at midday on Monday, February 15, did I manage to reach the island, where I found the situation worse than I had expected. To fully understand the situation and be able to make decisions, I had to work twelve hours a day during the first week, examine a mountain of documents, and meet countless people. The first problem I faced was overcoming legal issues related to the sale of Villa Castello. The contract stated that the property was free of encumbrances or obligations, but this was not the case. The villa was in fact burdened by two ecclesiastical fees, one in favor of the Monte dei Morti of Santarcangelo di Cava and the Congregazione di Carità of Cava. Those fees should have been paid before (280) the contract was signed, but this had not been done. Now everything is practically settled (281), but it was not easy, especially since I was unable to obtain the papers. The documents were scattered among six people: Mrs. Andrews, Heiskell, and four lawyers, three from Capri (282) and one from Naples. Two of the lawyers weren't on speaking terms, and a third, who had been in prison for gambling away a sum of money entrusted to him by a client, was making every excuse possible for not handing me the documents, hoping to use them for blackmail. Now two of the lawyers have been fired, leaving us with four: Mrs. Andrews (represented by her daughter Edith), her lawyer Raffaele Acquaviva (283) (the only valid one), lawyer Roberto Serena (representing the sellers, appointed before my arrival), and myself (who replaced Heiskell). The day before yesterday, we met in Acquaviva's office, who unfortunately doesn't understand a word of English and has no knowledge of American legal customs and procedures. Yet two hours later we had reached an agreement. In about ten days, the title problem will be considered resolved.

280 The law provided for the release of real estate encumbered by emphyteutic rents through the transfer, in favor of the creditor religious entity, of 5% Treasury bonds in an amount sufficient to produce an income equal to the amount of the annual rent. To free Villa Castello from ecclesiastical charges, Kelsey had to spend 1,025 lire on behalf of the Union Trust Company of Detroit. 

281 In reality, the conclusion of the process took longer. It could be considered closed on June 19, 1915, when Freer, Savidge, and Hoyt entrusted the formalization of the sale of Villa Castello to the lawyers Serena and Cerulli, granting them both the necessary power of attorney. For the professional work performed overall on behalf of Jerome and the Union Trust, Serena presented a fee of 1,100 lire. 

282 Galatà, Margiotti, and Serena. 

283 The lawyer Raffaele Acquaviva Coppola had his office in Naples in Piazza Amedeo.

News of Kelsey's arrival in Capri spread like wildfire, and immediately a swarm of creditors, both real and fake, descended on him. Faced with this avalanche of bills, the authenticity of which was impossible to verify, Kelsey vented to Morgan Heiskell (284): "I cannot abide this Italian habit of offering seemingly free services with great cordiality. First they reject every offer of compensation, and then show up at the last minute with an exaggerated request."

Yetta, however, remained the most serious problem. Kelsey had come to the following conclusions: “A careful examination of the case leads me to believe that the disease developed quite rapidly after her return from London in 1913. I am satisfied that, owing to the confused state of her mind, no reliance can be placed on any statement she has made regarding persons or events since that date. I believe she is suffering from a form of hysteria, the symptoms of which I would prefer not to describe in this report. Her ‘oddities’, which began a couple of years ago, appear to have intensified during the last attack of Mr. Jerome’s illness, and to have reached their climax after his death. She herself has admitted that she was at that time completely at a loss for words. A medical board would probably not pronounce her insane. But this has not prevented her antics (attributed by some to excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages) from bringing discredit upon Jerome’s memory and upon the reputation of the foreign colony on the island. Her abnormality sometimes presents itself in the form of an exaggerated predilection for a person, which then suddenly turns into hatred manifested in the form of loud insults. A risky thing in Italy, where severe laws punish defamation. In this way she got into trouble with a Neapolitan doctor, a certain Camillo Feo (in my opinion a scoundrel), who reported her. If I had not managed to agree, thanks to Mariano Morgano's arbitration, on a compensation of six hundred lire, Yetta would have risked losing a lot of money. In any case, she would have been stranded in Italy for two or three years until the conclusion of the trial. One thing is certain: Yetta manages her money in a crazy way. Adding to what she received from the Union Trust what she earned from the furniture sold, I discovered that she spent almost twenty thousand lire in just ten months. (285) Recently she asked me to advance her another thousand dollars. I asked what she needed them for, and she replied that she wanted to buy some bronze statues in Naples. But that's not all. The worst part is that she had the bathtub, the water tanks, and the window frames from Mr. Jerome's study removed from Villa Castello—to give them away. In practice, before my arrival, the poor woman was at the mercy of anyone who wanted to take advantage of her. To calm her down, whenever I noticed she was agitated, I suggested we take a walk, and as we walked, I would direct the conversation to topics that would distract her. With this method, I sometimes succeeded in calming her down, making her forget her imaginary problems.

284 Letter of April 8, 1915. PTSJ 3.18, 42. 

285 Yetta had purchased clothes from Michele Di Fiore's La Parisienne store for 739.15 lire. Morgan Heiskell was instructed by Kelsey to settle the account on February 20, 1915.

Kelsey discovered that Yetta, after taking the five hundred books to which she was entitled, had burned another five hundred: "I had heard that a bonfire had been lit in the garden of Villa Castello. So I conducted a little investigation. That's how I learned that the fire had been lit by a certain Petrillo, who then worked for Yetta and is now in the service of the Andrews family." Kelsey went to ask Vernon, Mrs. Tweed Andrews's thirty-five-year-old son, for clarification, and the meeting held a surprise for him. Vernon, before going to the appointment, had powdered his cheeks and brightened his lips with lipstick (286). He was truly an extraordinary character. His parents “had spent some years in Europe, and then traveled around the world, and the boy’s education had been entrusted to tutors of all kinds, including a Hawaiian half-breed hired in Honolulu, from whom he learned to dance the hula-hula. The Tweed Andrews family had arrived in Capri in 1897, when Vernon was eighteen, and had decided to settle in that welcoming and unprejudiced place so that the tall, slim, handsome and effeminate young man could live his life without ever feeling embarrassed” (287).

Kelsey asked Vernon about the destruction of the books: "I asked him if he knew about the bonfire, and he told me that one evening last July, around 9:30, some neighbors had knocked on his door, asking him to take a look at the fire burning on the plot of land that Jerome had rented from White. The flames, more than twenty feet high, were rising dangerously close to Coleman's study and threatened to spread to adjacent homes. Vernon had rushed to Villa Castello and, with some persuasion, managed to convince the gardener's wife to put out the bonfire by throwing buckets of water on the flames."

286 Cf. Douglas, pp. 146-147: “On Mount Pollino he gave our muleteer a nasty shock. We had just finished lunch in a picturesque spot in Janace Woods near a patch of snow, when Nigel [Vernon] takes a mysterious box from his bag and begins, mirror in hand, to powder his cheeks and rouge his lips.” Douglas uses the fictitious name “Nigel,” the same one used by Mackenzie in Vestal Fire. 

287 Money, p. 105.

When asked who had started the fire and why, Vernon was unable to answer. So on March 20, Kelsey sent for Petrillo, who, frightened, explained that, along with furniture, papers, and other materials, Yetta had ordered him to burn the first three baskets of books: “She doused them with kerosene and set them alight, saying, ‘These are law books.’ Then she filled some boxes with papers and ordered me to take them out and burn them. She filled baskets with books and boxes with papers many times, I can’t say how many, and told me to destroy everything in the same way. The fire burned for two days, or maybe three, I don’t remember exactly.”

Yetta had also caused damage to the house. Upon taking possession of the villa, Mrs. Tweed Andrews had discovered the following items missing: a bathtub and its pipes, a water heater, two thousand-liter water tanks fed by an Excelsior pump, the window frames from Jerome's study, the shelves in the cellar, some amphorae, and several plants in the garden. Naturally, the removal of the plumbing and fixtures had caused damage to the plaster and masonry. Yetta had tried to blame the disasters on her servant Costanzo Trama; (288) but Kelsey had discovered the truth: the plumber Gennaro Menafro had declared that Yetta had ordered him to remove the bathtub, the water heater, and the rest. In the end, Mrs. Tweed Andrews had to be compensated with a payment of 1,500 lire, which Kelsey would then debit to Yetta's account.

But the most risky event for Yetta, and the most unpleasant for Kelsey, had been the clash with Dr. Camillo Feo, Jerome's former doctor (chosen because he spoke English), who lived at Villa Pasquale alla Croce. The battle had originated from Feo's request for repayment of an alleged loan, and Yetta's resentful response dated January 20, 1915 (289): "Dear friend, I received your letter yesterday, but I cannot understand its meaning. Yes, last summer you advanced me 200 lire for my furniture, which you and your wife wanted to purchase and which you asked me to send you (which I did). However, up to now you have never paid the balance. Therefore, not only do I have no intention of returning the 200 lire, but I actually ask you to send me the amount I am owed immediately. Or rather, I invite you, if you are unable to pay me, to return the furniture to me immediately. I enclose the list with the asking prices, for a total value of 1,300 lire (which is certainly not excessive)."

288 Jerome had shown Costanzo complete trust, so much so that he remembered him in his will with a bequest of 250 dollars. 

289 PTSJ, 3.17, 40-42. 

Feo hadn't responded. Yetta then turned to the lawyer Margiotti, who on February 13 (290) had ordered the doctor to return the furniture: “A living room set composed of a large mahogany sofa with springs, two armchairs and four small armchairs, a round table also of mahogany with metal finishings, a large wall mirror with frame, two rocking chairs, a piece of furniture with a statuette called The Venus of the Flowers, a dining room set composed of a buffet or sideboard, a large dining table, a sideboard for plates, a study set composed of a large mahogany desk with inlays and several drawers, two bookcases, a deckchair covered with green plush, two sofas with springs and backrests, a hat rack mirror with a seat underneath, a white painted cabinet, three chests of drawers with drawers, three large draped rugs, a large painted iron bed, an American iron stove, six feather pillows, an umbrella stand, a white bookcase, a box with carpenter's tools”.

The doctor responded to the lawyer's letter by announcing his intention to sue Yetta for defamation. (291) "Rather than surprising or astonishing me, the request you are making on behalf of Rupp arouses in me a profound feeling of sadness and commiseration. Rupp's request represents, above all, an act damaging to the dignity and honor of an honest professional, since it tends to raise doubts or certainties in the minds of others that I unduly hold furniture or objects in my home that belong to others." Feo denied that there had been a sale, and assured that he could prove it "with numerous testimonies from unsuspecting persons." Yetta, according to Feo, was contradicting herself. Why, having intended to sell the furniture, had she waited eight months before announcing the prices? The truth was otherwise. The 200 lire had been given to Rupp "as a loan, when at the outbreak of war it was impossible to exchange any checks or bank orders due to the panic that had pervaded people." At the time, Yetta was desperately in need of money, and had approached various people, saying she would even be satisfied with 20 lire. However, no one wanted to lend her: "After everyone refused her any amount, on July 8, 1914, she turned to me sadly and tearfully, cursing the heartless and ungrateful people of Capri." Feo, on the other hand, had been generous: he had then given her all the cash he had in the house, 200 lire, "and to show her that even in Italy there are noble souls, I did not want her to receive a receipt for the loan."

Feo claimed that the furniture had been a gift, or rather a gesture of gratitude: "On the 15th of the same month, on my name day, she began bringing me a rickety little table and a worm-eaten chair to show her gratitude for the many kindnesses and courtesies she received every day from both my wife and me. On the following 10th of August, on the occasion of my moving house, she had a dining table, two little tables, four chairs, and other things brought to my house, all old and used. And since she ate at my house every day along with her dogs, Rupp would often begin lamentations during lunch (but more often during dinner), accompanied by tears, in which she expressed her remorse and cursed her good heart for having given this to Tizio, that to Caio, and that to Sempronio."

290 PTSJ, 3.17, 45-46.

291 PTSJ, 3.17, 46-51.

Dr. Feo had offered to pay for the furniture, but Yetta had replied: "I don't sell and have never sold anything. Keep everything as a memento of me. What I gave you isn't enough to repay you for all the kindness and care you've shown me." This was certain, since Yetta had uttered the aforementioned words "in the presence of other people who will not hesitate to testify." And the same phrases were "written in some of Rupp's letters to me, which I will produce in due course."

Dr. Feo, however, would not be satisfied "with filing a complaint with the competent authority, to demand respect for my dignity and reparation for the acts that had damaged my dignity." The offense had to be atoned for with compensation. Feo demanded, in addition to the return of the 200 lire (plus 7 lire in interest), reimbursement of 1,260 lire for food provided (126 days at 10 lire a day), 85 lire for wine, spirits, and other beverages, 147 lire for food for two dogs (49 days at 3 lire a day), 350 lire for medical services, 26 lire for medicines, 46 lire paid to porters for transporting furniture, 74 lire paid to carpenter Michele Pupillo for repairs, and 12 lire for a pair of shoes. All this for a total of 2,207 lire.

Kelsey was perplexed. He knew that Yetta's statements were unreliable, but Feo didn't strike him as trustworthy. In the doctor's office, he had seen a medical degree from the University of Pennsylvania. The parchment looked suspicious. This suspicion was confirmed when the archaeologist wrote to Pennsylvania, and the dean of the faculty replied that "examination of the records does not indicate that Camillo Feo received a degree from this university." Kelsey then sought clarification from Yetta and asked her to prepare a memorandum (292). Yetta then denied having received, in the three months since she left Villa Castello, three meals a day at Dr. Feo's house: "Only once, while I was tidying up the apartment next to Dr. Feo's house (an apartment I had rented in December, after leaving Mr. Jerome's house), his wife sent me, without my asking, a cup of sweetened coffee. I admit that later I often accepted invitations to lunch from Mrs. Feo, and that her husband sometimes attended these lunches. But in total this did not happen more than thirty times. I also admit that I was invited to dinner about fifteen times. I always ate what the family ate, that is, simple foods: eggs with tomatoes, cheese, salad, etc. Never meat or fish. No special dishes were ever prepared for me. I never received Vermouth, Kümmel, or other liqueurs. At the table we drank only Capri wine. On some occasions, when I ate at the Feo's and did not leave any food at home, the dogs, my pets, received leftovers. This may have happened, at most, about twenty times. I would like to add that I also invited the Feos to dinner a couple of times, and I prepared special dishes for them. As for professional medical services, I must specify that Dr. Feo came to Villa Castello twice to treat my dog ​​Tiberio, and I took Tiberio to his office three other times for a check-up. That makes five visits in total; given that I have never been examined by him, nor have I ever received any medicine, except for a small bottle of calomel tablets, which cost no more than two lire. Finally, it is true that Dr. Feo bought me a pair of shoes, spending less than four lire. If you expect more, show me the invoice.

292 Letter of February 20. PTSJ, 3.17, 59.

Yetta was probably telling the truth, but that didn't prevent him from still running risks, since Italian law severely punished defamation. Furthermore, Feo claimed to have in his possession some "very confidential" documents from Jerome, apparently found in a drawer of the desk Yetta had given him. These documents, he claimed, would have caused a scandal if they were disclosed. Kelsey implied that they might have been letters exchanged between Jerome and Freer, but he didn't provide details. To avoid the risk of blackmail, he instructed Margiotti to go and speak with Feo, and on February 25, the lawyer reached an agreement. Yetta handed Feo a check for six hundred lire along with a letter of apology. (293) The doctor declared himself satisfied and returned the compromising letters.

Kelsey still had one last task to complete: the division of the library according to Jerome's wishes. On February 26, he went to Rome to meet with Dr. Carter, director of the American Academy, and on March 3, he had a meeting with librarian Albert Van Buren. The two began examining the library catalogs that Edith Andrews had checked. (294) But then they came to the conclusion that it would be better to do this work in Capri, where they could divide the volumes after examining them one by one: “Van Buren reached Capri with me on the afternoon of March 11, and we immediately set to work. While he and I, with Yetta’s help, worked on selecting and packing the books, a carpenter prepared the crates. Thus a week passed, and another five days were needed to arrange the volumes in the crates. During this time I also had to go to Sorrento to pay some taxes, and I went to Naples to buy Yetta’s ticket. I plan to put her on a ship bound for New York, where my nephew will receive her and put her on a train to Detroit. We hope that, returning home and seeing old friends, she will feel better.” 

293 PTSJ, 3.17, 52-54. 

294 This information also comes from Kelsey's report, dated April 5, 1915, to Savidge and Hoyt. The following information also comes from the same source.

XI

On March 11, having returned to Villa Castello with Van Buren, Kelsey found Margiotti's bill in the mail. (295) The lawyer enclosed a list detailing "the assistance and collaboration provided in the interest and on behalf of Mr. Jerome in all matters relating to the monument to Tiberius," numerous "sessions and conferences aimed at dismantling the artificial maneuvers organized by the parish priest and the Archbishop with the aim of misleading the islanders from their sympathies for Mr. Jerome," and the handling of the "correspondence between Mr. Jerome and the mayor of Capri," as well as drafts of the letters sent to professors Silvagni, Beloch, Gentile, Ferrero, Pais, Cocchia, and De Petra. To help Jerome, Margiotti had finally had to prepare the “translation and explanation of what had been written in favor of Tiberius by ancient historians, including Velleius Paterculus, Strado, Valerius Maximus, Philo Hebreus, Orosius, etc. and by modern ones, including Ferrero, Silvagni, Gentile, Stahr, Durny, Baring Gould, etc.”.

The lawyer specified that he had done everything possible, adding that if the tombstone project had failed, the blame lay with Jerome, who had always rejected the possibility of a compromise: "It should be noted that if, despite my patient and assiduous collaboration (which lasted over a year), the result desired by Mr. Jerome was not achieved, this was because he refused to submit to any variation or alteration of the inscription, nor did he even accept its modification in the direction suggested by Professor Beloch." Interestingly, the lawyer believed that now a new attempt could be made. Someone had told him that, if Kelsey modified the text, the City Council would be willing to reconsider the matter. Yetta said that the money from the "Tiberian Fund" was sitting unused in a bank in Naples. Why not give it a try? On March 20, a meeting was held at the Town Hall. (296) Margiotti, Kelsey, Van Buren, the new mayor Carmine Vuotto, and councilors Vincenzo Iodice, Raffaele Federico, Giuseppe Aprea, and Costantino Federico attended. Margiotti spoke first and, "after a quick mention of the exemplary virtues and outstanding merits of the late Mr. Jerome," said that "as a lasting and enduring testimony of gratitude to the illustrious citizen who benefited this island with his ingenuity and heart, it is appropriate and proper to realize what was an ardent aspiration of Mr. Jerome, namely, the affixing of the lapidary inscription to Tiberius." The reasons for the discord had now been resolved: "Professor Kelsey, present here, intends to make changes to the inscription that will reassure even the opponents and avoid any disagreement or controversy." In his reply, the mayor provided his usual brief preamble: "The island mourned and will always mourn the untimely loss of Mr. Jerome, who was a great benefactor of this town. His memory will remain engraved and indelible in the souls of the island's population." As for the inscription, he believed that, with a little good will, the matter could be resolved. In this regard, he was "happy to declare, also on behalf of his colleagues on the Council, that this municipal administration is fully prepared to reexamine the pending application and to approve the construction of the project, provided that the promised changes or modifications strictly necessary to eliminate any dissensions or disagreements among the peaceful and tranquil population of Capri are made to the project and the registration."

295 PTSJ, 1.10, 3-6. The bill also contained a charge of 500 lire "for the work I spent on behalf of and on behalf of the late Mr. T. S. Jerome in connection with the sale of Villa Mura." In 1912, Jerome had planned to buy Villa Mura, not far from Villa Castello, whose owner, Alberto Garibaldi White, was asking 29,700 lire. The negotiation had continued for several months, but in 1913 it was abandoned "due to disagreements that arose at the last minute between the seller and the buyer." 

296 PTSJ, 1.10, 23-24.

The next day, Kelsey went to Naples to withdraw the money from the Tiberian Fund, but when he spoke to the bank manager, he discovered that the 1,500 lire were missing. Jerome had returned the money to the subscribers before his death.

During his stay in Capri, Kelsey had met a doctor who lived in Egypt, from whom he had asked for a prescription for seasickness. During the conversation, the doctor told him he was well acquainted with Fayoum, the region where the Freer Gospels had been discovered. Intrigued, Kelsey had tried to find out more: (297) "That doctor was Dr. David L. Askren, who practiced in the capital of Fayoum and whose patients included the fellah who had discovered the Morgan manuscripts. Askren also knew other fellahs who were digging in a fertilizer mine in Dimay. Dimay was the place where, according to Ali Arabi, the Freer Gospels had been discovered. Dr. Askren promised me that he would do everything possible to locate the exact location of the discovery, helping me solve the problem of their provenance." (298)

297. Letter from Kelsey to Colonel Hecker, March 15, 1920. PTSJ, 15.14. 

298. Upon returning to America, Kelsey informed Freer, who immediately sent Askren fifty pounds as reimbursement for expenses. The doctor, however, never received the money. It was wartime, and the postal service was poor.

*     *     *

On the morning of March 24, the thirty-five crates containing Jerome's library were loaded onto the sailing vessel Nuovo Costantino, commanded by Captain Agostino Rocco, and arrived in Naples that evening. Eighteen of them, along with the books bound for Rome, were deposited at the Naples railway station. The remaining seventeen, destined for the University of Michigan, were loaded onto the SS. Finland (299): the same ship on which Yetta would depart the following day, housed in a first-class cabin. (300)

The shipment of the books was completed just in time. After the Finland's departure, a storm arrived and Capri was stranded: "The next day the weather worsened, and the sea became so rough that communications with Capri were interrupted for a week."

On April 11, as Kelsey boarded the SS Canopic in Naples bound for Boston, he was exhausted. He had agreed to undertake the mission without realizing the difficulties he would encounter. He had not imagined he would have to fight against so many swindlers and criminals swimming like fish in that sea of ​​complicated and absurd laws: "Had I known what awaited me, nothing in the world could have induced me to submit for six weeks to such a maelstrom of abuses and attempts at extortion." (301)

*     *     *

During the fifteen years she lived on Capri, Yetta had become, with her positive and negative sides and her eccentricities, one of the island's most recognizable characters. Her departure saddened some, but it created a sense of liberation for the majority. Among those who breathed a sigh of relief was Edith Andrews, who in the summer of 1915 received news from Kelsey (302): "I am relieved that Yetta has no intention of coming to Ann Arbor to live. The Union Trust did all that was humanly possible, behaving justly and courteously towards her; but Yetta, who considered herself ill-treated, nevertheless turned to a lawyer. I must say that I expected this, and for this reason I took appropriate precautions when dealing with her financial problems. Nevertheless, if she had turned to an unscrupulous lawyer, we would have had a lot of trouble. Fortunately, she has entrusted herself to an honest lawyer, a friend of Jerome, who suggested that she accept the severance offered by the Union Trust. For my part, I have the impression that Yetta will try to avoid me, and I do not foresee that our future relations will be very friendly, especially when I think of all the follies she has committed in Capri. I've learned there's a streak of madness in her family. She's currently living with friends in Detroit (303) and cries constantly. I've heard she's restless and would like to return to Capri, but I don't think there's any reason to worry. She doesn't have enough money to cover the cost of the trip, since she only receives a monthly allowance.

298 Upon returning to America, Kelsey informed Freer, who immediately sent Askren fifty pounds as reimbursement for expenses. The doctor, however, did not receive the money. It was wartime, and the postal service was poor. 

299 The cost of the shipment amounted to $3,000. 

300 Kelsey gave Yetta, to cover expenses during the trip, a cash fund of 400 lire and $50 in cash, as well as a check for $25 to be cashed in case of emergency. 

301 PTSJ, 3.3, 21. 

302 Letter of August 17, 1915. PTSJ, 1.10, 11-13.

303 Consulting Detroit telephone directories from the years immediately following Yetta's return to America, Susan Hobbs had discovered that Henrietta S. Rupp lived first on Euclid Avenue and then on Grand Boulevard, two elegant streets where a black person could have resided only if he or she had been part of the servants of a white family (in which case, obviously, his or her name would not have been present in the telephone directory). This would lead to the conclusion that Yetta could not have been of mixed race, as Weber suspected. See ARE, letter from Susan Hobbs to Giorgio Weber of November 16, 1985, and Weber's letter to Hobbs of August 11 (1986?). 

Edith Andrews, in turn, kept Kelsey informed of what was happening on Capri. On October 2, she wrote to him (304): "I am pleased to inform you that the deed of sale for Villa Castello has finally been formally finalized. The ceremony took place yesterday afternoon in Naples. Now the documents will need to be registered, which will take another two or three weeks. My mother, brother, and I have begun living in the new house, although we cannot say we are completely settled in. Yesterday, while we were at the notary's, Capri was hit by a violent storm. Lightning struck several buildings, including the church of Santa Teresa, right next to us. Fortunately, there were no casualties, but the damage is considerable. Villa Castello, fortunately, remained unharmed. Our crossing, when we returned, was a real adventure due to the sea conditions."

Kelsey responded on October 23, (305), sharing the latest news about Yetta: “She wanted to withdraw a considerable amount of money from the bank, but the Union Trust officials managed to persuade her to leave half of her holdings in the account. In any case, she withdrew a large sum and, ignoring all warnings, bought a luxury automobile in which she began to drive around Detroit. The change of scenery seems to have had a good effect on her. She now appears calmer.” The letter concluded with a reference to the bloody events that were devastating Europe: “Let us hope that this terrible war will be over before next summer. But who can be sure of that?

304 PTSJ, 1.10, 27. 

305 PTSJ, 1.10, 29.

Yetta's symptoms of mental illness had not abated since her return to America. Kelsey mentioned it in his Christmas card to Miss Andrews (306): "Yetta came to Ann Arbor yesterday to visit Mrs. Butts, who, I assure you, had a very bad time. The improvement in her condition was only apparent. She is now as agitated and dangerous as she was on Capri. Naturally, she avoided meeting me and Savidge, for which we are both grateful."

If Kelsey was pleased that Yetta had not settled in Ann Arbor, Edith was equally reassured by the news that she had renounced the idea of ​​returning to Capri (307): “I understand that you are relieved by Yetta’s decision not to settle in Ann Arbor. If she were to return to Capri, there would be a panic. Let us hope that automobiles and other such toys for the idle rich will keep her on the other side of the Atlantic for the rest of her life. We would, however, be pleased if you, Professor Kelsey, could come to Capri with your family next summer. But I advise you not to do so while this horrible threat of German submarines lasts.”

The last “Caprese” news communicated to Kelsey by Miss Andrews is dated June 23, 1916: (308): “I think you will be interested to learn that the sinister figure of Dr. Feo has disappeared from this world.”

*     *     *

Once Kelsey's mission was completed, the Union Trust had to comply with two further provisions of his will. The first concerned the manuscripts. Jerome had stipulated: "In the event that at my death I leave substantially complete manuscripts which, in the opinion of my executors, are worthy of publication, I desire that the said executors shall provide for the publication of said manuscripts in such manner as they shall deem most appropriate." Carrying out this wish would not be easy. Who would be capable of unraveling those thousands of drafts, notes, footnotes, quotations, and references, all written in pencil in a nearly indecipherable hand? Kelsey had explained to Hoyt (309) that it would be impossible to publish the material in its entirety: "No publisher would be found willing to invest the necessary three thousand dollars in the undertaking, and the excessive size of the work would discourage its purchase even by specialists." The whole thing had to be reduced to no more than 125,000 words. Only under those conditions, the publisher George H. Putnam had made it known, would it be possible to consider publishing the volume (310).

306 Letter dated December 4, 1915. PTSJ, 1.10, 34. 

307 Letter dated January 10, 1916. PTSJ, 1.10, 53. 

308 PTSJ, 1.10, 67.

309 Letter of May 15, 1915. PTSJ, 3.18, 25-26. 

310 Letter from Hoyt to Winter of June 8, 1915. PTSJ, 3.18, 48. 

Kelsey, granted carte blanche by Hoyt, then turned to John G. Winter, a young collaborator, who agreed to take on the task for a fee of five hundred dollars. To prune this enormous mass of material, he would have to drastically cut "not only the text but also a great deal of the accompanying notes." (311) The end result, rather than an extract, would be a miscellany with a generic title: Aspects of the Study of Roman History.

The book was published seven years late due to the war. Winter made every effort to respect the author's ideas, even when they did not entirely correspond to his own. But he did so with pleasure, since he felt sincere admiration for "the extraordinary interest shown in Roman history by a man of acute intelligence, who had been able to apply the meticulous legal method of scrutinizing testimonies to the evaluation of sources." (312)

*     *     *

The second testamentary disposition concerned Jerome's intention to contribute to the "promotion of historical studies" through a series of lectures to be held once a year. The lectures would concern the conditions, circumstances, or causes that had influenced or determined the rise or fall of peoples, nations, or civilizations. To this end, recalling that ancient history could provide useful lessons for understanding contemporary political, social, and economic problems, Jerome hoped that the biological and psychological sciences would also participate in the research. Jerome's wish was respected. In 1917, the Union Trust established the "Thomas Spencer Jerome Fund," the proceeds of which were made available to a committee charged with organizing the "Thomas Spencer Jerome Lectures."

311 J. G. Winter, preface to: T. S. JEROME, Aspects of the study of Roman History, New York and London, 1923, p. V. 

312 Ibid.

*     *     *

Since then, renowned historians and archaeologists have come and gone every year to the lecture halls of the American Academy in Rome and the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor to deliver the "Thomas Spencer Jerome Lectures." Thus, ninety years after his death, the prestigious lectures continue to commemorate Jerome's name. However, on Capri, until twenty years ago, Jerome was forgotten by all, with the sole exception of Giorgio Weber. In September 1983, after visiting the archives of the Ignazio Cerio Center for Capri Studies, Weber informed Mrs. Finerman (313) that the American lawyer's file was empty, save for a sheet containing the text of the famous tombstone. Weber was outraged: "There is nothing to indicate Jerome's existence. The library has a copy of Roman Memories, a book that tells a lot about Roman life but provides no information about the author. Who knows, perhaps one day someone will discover that, regarding Tiberius, Jerome was right." Maybe then we'll be able to get the plaque posted." Some time later, Weber decided to take action. On March 2, 1984, (314) sending me a copy of the letter he had sent to Mrs. Finerman, he asked for my collaboration. He wanted me to write an article for "Il Mattino": "I hope you will approve my suggestion, and that you will promote the posting on the wall of the City Hall of the plaque that Jerome donated seventy years ago. The posting of the plaque could be an important event this summer."

At the time, I only knew the fantasies invented by Cerio, (315) and I remembered reading Ronald Syme's Tacitus, where it was said that "The rehabilitation of Tiberius, begun firmly in the mid-nineteenth century by Ihne and Sievers and then successfully pursued, has often gone too far." (316) Therefore, I replied to Weber that I did not agree: (317) "I did not launch the proposal to put up the plaque. In fact, it seems to me that a crazy idea like Jerome's, lacking serious documentation, would have been acceptable on the fascinating and eccentric Capri of the time, but has no place in today's reality. The figure of Tiberius is still considered enigmatic by historians, and nothing allows Jerome's theses to be validated with certainty. Perhaps the most appropriate way to honor Jerome's memory would be to hold his Lectures on Capri, at least once." Soon afterward, I wrote to Mrs. Finerman: “Dr. Giorgio Weber has asked me to spearhead a campaign to realize Jerome’s dream: to affix to the facade of Capri’s town hall a plaque with an inscription rehabilitating the memory of the Emperor Tiberius, maliciously defamed by Tacitus and Suetonius. I responded by suggesting what I believe would be the appropriate way to remember Jerome: having at least one of the next Jerome Lectures held on Capri, perhaps choosing Tiberius as the topic of the conference.” When I sent Weber, who had meanwhile arrived on Capri, a copy of the letter sent to Finerman (318), I expected a good-natured rebuke. Instead, I received a lesson in style: “The idea of ​​having the Jerome Lectures on Capri is excellent (319). I regret not having thought of it myself.” At the same time, he apologized for the mistakes: "My handwriting is now illegible, and the only typewriter I can use is the White Cat's, which is electric and drives me crazy. I'm now confined almost all the time to the White Cat's garden. Congratulations again on the splendid idea."

313 Letter to Mrs. Finerman, October 24, 1983. ACK. 

314 ACK. 

315 From Jerome's tragic story, Cerio had drawn inspiration for a humorous story entitled "The Tombstone to Tiberius" (Aria di Capri, Il libro delle cose, Naples 1936, pp. 83-110). Among other things, Cerio had written: "Capri is perhaps the only town that has the carriage fare engraved on a very precious marble slab: pavonazzetto from Illyria, the stone that Tiberius fell in love with during his last campaign and which he wanted to decorate the peristyle of Villa Jovis." Believing these inventions, there are still some people in Capri who go in search of the slab that Jerome supposedly had made, and then overturned and used for the carriage fare. 

316 Ronald Syme, Tacitus, Oxford 1958, note 1 on p. 436. 

317 Letter of 16 June 1984. ACK.

318 Letter dated July 9, 1984. ACK. 

319 Letter dated July 10, 1984. ACK. 

Three months later, Mrs. Finerman's reply arrived (320), suggesting that the idea of ​​giving one of the Jerome Lectures on Capri had not aroused enthusiasm. Weber, however, a man of firm principles, was moving forward on his own. In 1929, when his refusal to join the Fascist Party made it difficult for him to practice medicine, he had not hesitated to start a new life in America. Imagine if he would be discouraged by a few minor obstacles. He was not overly concerned about the reliability of the accounts of Tacitus and Suetonius. The scientific question was, from his point of view, not of great importance. The wrong suffered by Jerome a century earlier at the hands of the people of Capri was, however, enormous: an injustice that could (and should) be remedied. So he had assembled a small group of followers, including Vittorio Gargiulo, an artist and gymnastics teacher, former mayor Raffaele Di Stefano, and Luigi Bladier, director of the Ignazio Cerio Study Center. And this "committee for the plaque to Tiberius" had busily set to work.

In early 1985 (321), Weber wrote from Florida to his dear friend Antonio Esposito, owner of the Gatto Bianco: "Last April I received a letter from a Dr. Susan Hobbs, whose title is 'Research Associate Smithsonian Institute Washington,' who had gotten my address from Mrs. Finerman. Ms. Hobbs is planning to write a biography of Charles L. Freer, the multimillionaire who was a friend of Jerome until 1906, when their relationship ended abruptly after a meeting in London. I have exchanged a number of letters with Ms. Hobbs. We have both come to the conclusion that the friendship between Jerome and Freer was probably homosexual in nature. Their relationship lasted until 1899, when Jerome, returning from Cuba, decided to become heterosexual and began his relationship with Yetta. The fact that Jerome, during the fourteen years he lived on Capri, devoted himself to the study of the life of Tiberius should be of interest to the Capri. […] For this reason, in November 1983, I wrote to Carlo Knight, telling him Jerome's story and suggesting that he promote a campaign to have the plaque Jerome had requested. The proposal had nothing to do with the question of Tiberius's virtues, or vices. We cannot be certain of Suetonius's assertions, according to which Tiberius had been a tyrant, nor of Jerome's, for whom Tiberius was an excellent statesman and an admirer of Jesus Christ.

320 Letter dated October 16, 1984. ACK. 

321 Letter dated February 21, 1985. CC, Jerome folder.

Weber updated Antonio on the committee's progress: "A couple of weeks ago, I received a letter from Professor Gargiulo, who, returning from a vacation in South Africa, had found my letter. He informed me that he had contacted Raffaele Di Stefano, and that together they had gone to Bladier and found [in the archives] the text of the plaque. Gargiulo assured me that they would do everything possible to obtain the approval of the City Council before the next elections in May. I would be grateful if you would keep me informed of the progress of the matter. And tell your brother Riccardo [opposition city councilor] to briefly forget that he is a communist, and not to hinder this project, which is in the best interest of Capri."

Despite his age and health, Weber was on the verge of realizing Jerome's long-held dream. On March 1, 1985, at 5:00 PM, Councilor Di Stefano presented a proposal to the City Council, meeting in extraordinary session, to launch "a campaign of civic awakening and worldwide propaganda for the rehabilitation of Tiberius and the revaluation of the archaeological complex of all eras existing on the island." (322) This proposal would also include the installation of the inscription designed by Jerome seventy-three years earlier. This inscription was never realized "due to the fault of the city officials of the time, who, through repeated delays, overcame their indecision with Jerome's death."

Considering the uproar unleashed seventy-three years earlier by the same proposal, it's hard to believe that the motion passed without encountering opposition. The ancient controversy had been forgotten, and almost all members of the city council were unaware of Jerome's name. The Capri clergy had other matters to attend to; and customs had changed to such an extent that the legendary Tiberian orgies no longer caused scandal but were a tourist attraction. The proposal to affix a plaque in honor of Tiberius was approved unanimously (also because it did not affect the interests of the councilors, nor those of relatives or friends), and the mayor was mandated "to proceed with the necessary steps for its execution."

322 Minutes of the City Council of the year 1985. Minutes No. 231

On October 20, 1985, on a radiant autumn Sunday, the unveiling ceremony of the marble plaque was held on Capri, the first solemn and public act of homage from the people of Capri to Tiberius in two thousand years. Walled into the architrave of the ancient gate of the citadel, at the foot of the bell tower, the inscription contained, in addition to the full text of the inscription commissioned by Thomas Spencer Jerome, a dedication to the American who, "with authentic critical spirit," had restored "dignity and honor to the Emperor Tiberius." The name of the defamed emperor was thus inextricably linked in marble to that of the lawyer who had fought to rehabilitate him. Jerome, seventy years after his death, had won the most important case of his life.

Appendix 

List of signatories of the petition against the plaque to Tiberius (323) (June 18, 1912) TSJP 1.7, 71-80 

Note: The names accompanied by an asterisk are of uncertain decipherment.

1) Parish Priest Giuseppe De Nardis 

2) Cav. Luigi Lembo – priest 

3) Harold E. Trower 

4) Pietro Ferraro – priest 

5) Alfredo G. Clark 

6) Archdeacon Dionisio Ferraro 

7) Goffredo Sinibaldi son of Luigi 

8) Michele Orrico 

9) Massimino Domenico – shopkeeper 

10) Maldacena Filippo – shopkeeper 

11) D. G. Arcucci – hotelier 

12) Nicola Ferraro – hotelier 

13) Dr. R. Di Maria – priest 

14) De Martino Pietro – barber 

15) Ardelmo Regni* – unknown 

16) Bruni Antonio – municipal guard 

17) Giuseppe Della Monica – waiter 

18) Agostino Cerio – brother of Dr. Cerio 

19) Giustino Lembo – owner 

20) Amitrano Giovanni – carpenter 

21) Trama Raffaele – farmer 

22) Trama Costanzo – farmer 

23) Trama Giuseppe – tailor 

24) Errico D’Emilio – barber 

25) Nicola Di Fiore – cellarman (wine) 

26) Carmine Di Fiore – shoemaker 

27) Rocchese* Eugenio – pastry chef 

28) Emiddio Trama – merchant 

323 The list of names is in Jerome's handwriting. The annotations were added by the lawyer Margiotti.

29) Enrico Ferraro son of Fil. – doorman 

30) Lancellotti Gregorio – merchant 

31) Agnello Ferraro – carpenter 

32) Filippo Esposito – farmer 

33) Ferraro Giuseppe son of Domenico 

34) Trama Raffaele – farmer 

35) Michele Dionare* 

36) Persico Giovanni – farmer 

37) Carmine Trama – merchant 

38) Salvia Cataldo – farmer 

39) Raffaele Federico – farmer 

40) Salvatore Vuotto – farmer 

41) Mattia Trama – farmer 

42) Salzano Giovanni – bricklayer 

43) Federico Michele son of Salvatore – farmer 

44) Francesco Federico di Luigi – farmer 

45) Federico Tobia – farmer 

46) Catuogno Giovanni – coal dealer 

47) Costanzo Serena Sac. – priest 

48) Federico Michele son of Micky* – painter 

49) Giovanni son of Salvatore – farmer 

50) Giovanni Ferraro di Pasquale – clerk 

51) Ciro Ferraro – tobacconist 

52) ​​Federico Costanzo – shoemaker 

53) Costanzo Lembo – cousin of Ciro Lembo 

54) Catuogno Carmine – Town Hall clerk 

55) Marotta Vincenzo – merchant 

56) Ernesto Ferraro – barber 

57) Brunetti Costantino – farmer 

58) Ferraro Giuseppe di Michele – tailor 

59) Raffaele Vuotto – farmer 

60) Domenico Stima – Town Hall usher 

61) Fadda Salvatore – Town Hall clerk 

62) Serena Vincenzo – Town Hall clerk 

63) Rossetti Ferrante – retired infantry sergeant 

64) Pasquale Desiderio – fishmonger 

65) Giovanni Iodice – bottler 

66) Giovanni Federico di Giuseppe – cable car conductor 

67) Federico Salvatore di Michele – clerk 

68) Lembo Filippo di Giovanni – sailor 126 

69) Aprea Saverio – former merchant 

70) Esposito Luigi di Michele – farmer 

71) Federico Gennaro son of Alessio – sailor 

72) Diamante Salozza* – sailor 

73) Giovanni Alberino son of Vincenzo – sailor 

74) Ruocco Salvatore – illiterate sailor 

75) Ruocco Carmine son of Salvatore – sailor 

76) Aprea Luigi di Saverio – sailor 

77) Ruocco Luigi son of Giuseppe – sailor 

78) Vuotto Natale son of Saverio – sailor 

79) Saverio Ruocco – old sailor 

80) Aprea Antonio – sailor 

81) Pagano Michele son of Francesco – waiter 

82) Antonino Cimino – fisherman 

83) Pietro Cacace – sailor 

84) Costanzo Federico – fisherman 

85) Desiderio Costanzo – fisherman 

86) Raffaele Federico – farmer 

87) Alessandro Federico – coal merchant 

88) Armonia Carmine – mechanic 

89) Antonio D’Angiolo – sailor 

90) Vincenzo Fiore – pork butcher 

91) Eugenio Ferrigno – tailor 

92) Leopoldo Pollio – landowner 

93) Sebastiano Strina – shoemaker 

94) Esposito Giuseppe – farmer 

95) Esposito Luigi – farmer 

96) Raffaele Esposito – farmer 

97) Giovanni Salvia – farmer 

98) Salvia Raffaele – farmer 

99) Salvia Luigi – farmer 

100) Salvia Giovanni di Andrea – farmer 

101) Gambarotta* Luigi – postal messenger 

102) Arcucci Enrico 

103) Striano Nunziato – chicken farmer 

104) Catuogno Raffaele – greengrocer 

105) Antonio Trama fu Andrea – shoemaker 

106) Francesco Serena . innkeeper 

107) Di Martino Francesco – pensioner 

108) Mariano Gargiulo – farmer 

109) Gaspare Fiorentino – farmer 

110) Raffaele Fiorentino – farmer 

111) Desiderio Michele – fisherman 

112) Della Monica Vincenzo – tobacconist 

113) Luigi De Martino – carpenter 

114) Giovanni Ferraro son of Domenico – stoker 

115) Esposito Luigi son of Raffaele – farmer 

116) Sposito Pasquale – farmer 

117) Giaquinto Pasquale – waiter 

118) Gaetano Castello – waiter 

119) Pedagna Filippo – waiter 

120) Esposito Costanzo – farmer 

121) Costanzo Rocco – innkeeper 

122) Mentasti* Francesco – municipal guard 

123) Francesco Palomba – room painter 

124) Costantino Di Stefano – butcher 

125) Federico Antonio – farmer 

126) Tedesco Enrico – tailor 

127) Staiano Vincenzo – worker 

128) Giuseppe De Stefano – worker 

129) Vuotto Giovanni – worker 

130) Felice Di Stefano – butcher 

131) Carmine Di Martino – old pork butcher 

132) Focchimi* Damiano – butcher 

133) Caso Bernardo – former shoemaker 

134) Ercolese Raffaele – barber 

135) Michele Pagano (of N.) – bottler 

136) Alberto Megna – coral worker 

137) Canfora Gennaro di Giuseppe – shoemaker 

138) Carmine Federico di R. – farmer 

139) Enrico Morgano son of Mariano – landowner 

140) Carlo Rocchese – cemetery caretaker 

141) Nicola Pagano di Nicola – pharmacist 

142) Antonio Coppola – farmer 

143) Pollio Ferdinado – farmer 

144) Cataldo Aprea – cook 

145) Salvatore Coppola – farmer 

146) D’Angelo Luigi – sailor

147) Cucine* Angelo – prison guard 

148) Ignazio Cerio 

149) Antonino Russo – lottery counter 

150) Giuseppe De Gregorio – cellarman 

151) Giuseppe Desiderio – bricklayer 

152) Raffaele Desiderio – bricklayer 

153) Federico Ciro – barber 

154) Antonino Guida – tailor