Webster sailed toward the end of June, and was warmly received and highly honored in Rome.  The great figures of the Grant success had astonished Europe even more than America, where spectacular achievements were more common.  That any single publication should pay a profit to author and publisher of six hundred thousand dollars was a thing which belonged with the wonders of Aladdin’s garden.  It was natural, therefore, that Webster, who had rubbed the magic lamp with this result, who was Mark Twain’s partner, and who had now traveled across the seas to confer with the Pope himself, should be received with royal honors.  In letters written at the time, Webster relates how he found it necessary to have an imposing carriage and a footman to maintain the dignity of his mission, and how, after various impressive formalities, he was granted a private audience, a very special honor indeed.  Webster’s letter gives us a picture of his Holiness which is worth preserving.

We—­[Mrs. Webster, who, the reader will remember, was Annie Moffett, a daughter of Pamela Clemens, was included in the invitation to the Presence Chamber.]—­found ourselves in a room perhaps twenty-five by thirty-five feet; the furniture was gilt, upholstered in light-red silk, and the side-walls were hung with the same material.  Against the wall by which we entered and in the middle space was a large gilt throne chair, upholstered in red plush, and upon it sat a man bowed with age; his hair was silvery white and as pure as the driven snow.  His head was partly covered with a white skullcap; he was dressed in a long white cassock which reached to his feet, which rested upon a red-plush cushion and were inclosed in red embroidered slippers with a design of a cross.  A golden chain was about his neck and suspended by it in his lap was a gold cross set in precious stones.  Upon a finger of his right hand was a gold ring with an emerald setting nearly an inch in diameter.  His countenance was smiling, and beamed with benevolence.  His face at once impressed us as that of a noble, pure man who could not do otherwise than good.

This was the Pope of Rome, and as we advanced, making the three genuflexions prescribed by etiquette, he smiled benignly upon us.  We advanced and, kneeling at his feet, kissed the seal upon his ring.  He took us each by the hand repeatedly during the audience and made us perfectly at our ease.

They remained as much as half an hour in the Presence; and the Pope conversed on a variety of subjects, including the business failure of General Grant, his last hours, and the great success of his book.  The figures seemed to him hardly credible, and when Webster assured him that already a guaranteed sale of one hundred thousand copies of his own biography had been pledged by the agents he seemed even more astonished.  “We in Italy cannot comprehend such things,” he said.  “I know you do great work in America; I know you have done a great and noble work in regard to General Grant’s book, but that my Life should have such a sale seems impossible.”