AT HOME
IN
ITALY
BIANCIARDI
DG
427
58
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Italy

PUBLIC LIBRA
DG
427
B58
4.
7
}
AT HOME IN ITALY

lizabeth
BY
MRS. E. D. R. BIANCIARDI
=
Released by
DETROIT PUBLIC LIBRARY.

"L
BOSTON
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street
· The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1884
Copyright, 1884,
BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
All rights reserved.
The Riverside Press, Cambridge:
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
PREFACE.
PURLIA
THE ordinary traveler too often resem-
bles that little animal which carries his
house on his back. Whenever he meets
with anything that conflicts with his ex-
perience or prejudices, he retires within
himself, and can with difficulty be induced
to examine what he disapproves. Italy has
especially suffered from the hasty judgments
of unsympathetic travelers. But let any
fair-minded person live here for a number
of years and he cannot fail to perceive the
reasonableness of much that once aston-
ished and perhaps offended him; and on
this better knowledge will follow charity
and, not unfrequently, admiration.
To contribute in some small degree to-
wards a right understanding of Italian hab-
its and customs is the purpose of this little
book.

257187
CONTENTS.
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE
THE CITY OF THE WINDS
7
99
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN THE PROVINCE OF SIENA 144
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA
•
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY
AN APRIL DAY ON THE CONSUMA PASS
•
•
159
184
207
222
A FLORENTINE FAMILY IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY 234
CAMALDOLI
VALLOMBROSA
265
280

AT HOME IN ITALY
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
I.
THERE is a large class of Americans who
desire for themselves, and still more for
their children, the privileges of observation
and culture which European life affords,
and the number is increasing every year. I
do not think these privileges are overrated.
Were it only to obtain a standard by which
to judge our own country in all its aspects,
natural, social, and political, or to estimate
our own personal acquirements and deficien-
cies, the journey is worth the fatigue and
expense. A year or two in Europe, es-
pecially during the period of life in which
the character and opinions are being formed,
ought to exert a wholesome influence upon
all the after-life, to be a corrective of rash
judgments, and of narrow natural self-grat-
ulation, while not less conducive to a hearty
8
AT HOME IN ITALY.
appreciation of and pride in all that there is
to admire in our beautiful and beloved
America. But there are many difficulties
in the way of carrying out such plans for
family journeys, though they appear, per-
haps, greater than they are; it not being an
easy matter, with all our books of travel, to
find out the truth upon certain practical
matters which bear immediately upon the
subject. It is to try to contribute a little
toward the elucidation of these minor but
sufficiently important points that I offer
some hints to those who are thinking of a
residence abroad, and particularly in Italy,
en famille.
Let me premise that I do not write for
those who come abroad, either with unlim-
ited purses or indefinite aims. For such,
the grand hotels are the natural abiding-
places. The grand hotel is the same every-
where. It is the one unchangeable feature
of Christendom. There is always a French
chef in the kitchen, and an English-speak-
ing clerk in the office. There is ice-water
for Brother Jonathan, and stout for John
Bull, and Rhein-wein and champagne for
those born thereto. The fashionable trav-
eler need no longer envy that little animal
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
9
which carries his house on his back, for in
every city, from New York to Cairo, he
shall find an abode prepared for him, as
like in all its appointments to the one he has
just quitted, as one pea to another. He can
travel all over Europe, if he chooses, with-
out once varying his habits of life. He sees
all that is starred in Murray and Baedeker,
and he gets a great deal of pleasure and in-
formation; but the best he does not and can-
not get. He does not see the real life, the
true significance of the past or the present,
as he would if health or inclination did not
oblige him to avoid the sacrifice of personal
comfort. I have sometimes thought that
those who are constrained to a close econ-
omy in traveling see the most after all. By
dint of necessity they find out the secluded
places which are not as yet despoiled of their
native characteristics; they get away from
the great cities, which are, to a certain de-
gree, commonplace, into the heart of the
country; and they are rewarded for a few
privations by a hundred enjoyments. But
there is a middle class, to whom "roughing
it" is impossible, and yet who wish for a
quiet and not too expensive life. To such
I propose to state some plain facts, not found
10
AT HOME IN ITALY.
in guide books, about a residence in the
country oftenest sought for purposes of
health and culture. I am more and more
surprised at the facility with which Amer-
ican physicians recommend to invalids a Eu-
ropean journey. Except for certain kinds
of disease, in which the patient needs change
rather than rest, it seems to me a measure
to be advised with the greatest caution. To
any one who has an appreciation of art or
nature, the temptation to overwork both
mind and body in the Old World is almost
irresistible. We who live here know that
many of those who find a grave amongst us,
far from their homes, are the victims, not so
much of the fever which may have been the
apparent cause of their death, as of bodily
and mental exhaustion from overwork.
Happily it is becoming year by year more
easy to avoid the dangers, and to utilize the
advantages. The accommodations for inva-
lid travelers upon the main line of railway
through France to the Riviera are greatly
improved of late, and the Mont Cenis and
St. Gothard tunnels have done away with
the chief perils of the Italian route. Besides
this, in all those localities which have been
found to be adapted for health resorts, every
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
11
year increases the facilities for making for-
eigners comfortable. Their necessities are
being comprehended, and the inhabitants
find it profitable to supply them. Thus pen-
sions and hôtels "on the English plan" are
springing up all along the Riviera, and,
though more slowly, in some of the charm-
ing summer stations of Italy. Switzerland
has shown how the thing could be done, and
that it paid; and her example has not been
thrown away. Of course, the expense of
accommodations is increasing proportionably
to their convenience; but comfort and econ-
omy for invalids are synonymous terms.
They cannot live as the nations of these
southern countries live, and the attempt to
do so, either from a desire to save money,
or the notion that the safest way in any
country is to follow its customs, has cost
many a life. Neither the food, artificial
heat, or clothing which are enough for an
Italian will suffice for us of northern blood,
unless after years of acclimation. An aver-
age Italian room in winter may be fairly
represented, as to warmth, by one of our
American cellars, stone-walled, brick-
floored, and only moderately lighted. For
heating apparatus there is a scaldino, or jar
¿
12
AT HOME IN ITALY.
of charcoal embers covered with ashes:-
and a few rugs for the feet, through which
the cold floor makes itself piercingly felt.
The sunshine outside may be warm, but to
enter a house strikes a chill to the very mar-
rów. In such rooms the majority of Ital-
ians pass their days and nights: they shiver
a little on cold mornings, and perhaps use a
foot-stove; but they do not seem to suffer
either in health or spirits from what is pos-
itive misery to foreigners. Indeed, to most
of them a fire is a discomfort rather than a
luxury; it "gives them headache,” and they
retreat as far as possible from it. This may
be enviable, especially considering the price
of fuel here, but it is not imitable by us.
We have fires, and thick carpets with straw
and paper underneath, and select sunny sit-
uations, but the stoves are quite inadequate
in heating power to the size and height of
the rooms; and the stone walls and floors
abstract much of the warmth. Of course,
invalids must feel these things severely.
The first need on entering Italy will be of
the warmest possible clothing, especially of
thorough protection for the feet against the
damp coldness of the stone floors. Fur-lined
boots are almost indispensable for spending
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
13
a morning with comfort and safety in the
churches and galleries. Thick flannels are
also necessary, not only for warmth, but as
a preservative against suffering from the
frequent alternations of temperature to
which one is exposed.
It is better to make provision for all these
emergencies before leaving America. Es
pecially, the cotton to be bought in Eu-
rope is poor and dear; a half-dozen sheets
and the thickest possible cotton under-cloth-
ing would be a greater blessing to the trav-
eler entering Italy than any amount of
Paris finery.
As to the places most favorable for a win-
ter sojourn, much of course depends on the
nature of the disease, or tendency to disease,
for which relief is sought. And it is a point
on which doctors disagree not less than on
others. Dr. Bennett, for instance, in his
valuable book, "Winter and Spring on the
Shores of the Mediteranean," considers a
residence in Naples as almost certain death
to any one in feeble health; and finds the
Genoese Riviera the spot combining the
greatest advantages for the majority of
health-seekers. Dr. Cox, also of London,
says, on the contrary: "When the autum-
14
AT HOME IN ITALY.
nal rains fall, and the sun has less power,
the invalid should remove into Naples, which
is at that season equal if not superior, as a
place of resort, to any other in Europe."
Dr. H. B. Storer, in his book entitled
"Southern Italy as a Health Station for
Invalids," agrees with Dr. Cox, but with
this proviso, that, "in speaking of Naples
as safe for residence, brief or prolonged, it
will be understood that the writer refers
only to the western portion of the quarter
Vittorio Emmanuele, for here alone does he
believe that nights can without risk be
spent. In the day one can descend with al-
most perfect impunity into the city below,
for then it is possible to be upon guard;
and, besides, the sun's influence, even when
clouded, is potent for good, but he who
is wise sleeps only above." Any one who
has visited Naples will emphasize this cau-
tion; the "Chiaja," the fashionable prom-
enade, is close to the shore drains, and the
effect of the sewerage of a great city, run-
ning into a tideless sea, is sufficiently appar-
ent in the health of the population. But,
without reference to the filthy condition of
many of the great cities, all Italy is more
or less malarious, and no motives of con-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
15
venience should induce travelers to choose
the lower stories of buildings for their habi-
tation. It is better for an invalid to be al-
ways carried up and down stairs than to
sleep on the lower floors. One is an incon-
venience, the other is a positive danger.
•
For those who find a healing influence in
natural scenery, the whole Genoese Riviera
offers unparalleled attractions as a winter
residence. Not only are the views from
the houses usually cheerful and beautiful,
but there are pleasant walks and drives, and
excursions so lightly fatiguing as to be
within the power of all but the most deli-
cate invalid; and all these places are devoid
of that which renders the large cities so tan-
talizing to an invalid: the forbidden pleas-
ures of picture galleries and ruins. It is
so disappointing to be in Rome or Florence,
within reach of what one has longed to
see, and yet be obliged to abstain from in-
dulging one's wishes, that in some cases
other good effects are neutralized by this
cause; or a single day's imprudence may
undo the work of a whole winter of care.
But I am persuaded that with due pre-
cautions many of them might visit Rome
and Florence and enjoy much, if not all,
嘛
​16
AT HOME IN ITALY.
they desire. The great secret is to avoid
fatigue and sudden transitions from sun-
shine to shadow. One should never enter a
gallery or a church when heated from a long
walk, and an extra wrap should always be
provided, not, as in America, for coming
out but for going in. It is a good plan in
going to these places to avoid the sunny
streets, so as not to feel the chill on leav-
ing them. The sunset hour is beyond all
others to be feared, especially in Rome.
There is always a chilling dampness, which
passes away after a little, and the evening
is as safe as the day. But many a fever
has been taken on the Pincian, and in the
Cascine that might have been avoided by a
little thoughtfulness and self-denial. There
is of course the greatest temptation to tour-
ists to overwork both mind and body, and it
is well to lay down every morning certain
boundaries for the day's sight-seeing which
should not be over-stepped.
As to the local diseases of which the trav-
eler runs the risk, Dr. Storer says: "Dis-
eases depending upon the Italian climate
may be summarily disposed of by saying
that they are much the same as belong to
our own southern and southwestern States,
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
17
and can, in great measure, as there, be pre-
vented by the same prophylactic or precau-
tionary measures as would be indicated by
his physician to a traveler undertaking such
a journey at home. Milan, Genoa, and
Florence, and the districts outside them, just
as Rome and its campagna, give rise to in-
termittent and remittent attacks, provided
the stranger is indiscreet or does not intelli-
gently protect his system, precisely as would
Cleveland or Chicago, St. Louis, or even
Staten Island." The practical conclusion of
the whole matter seems to be that there is
no place where an invalid can hope to enjoy
perfect freedom from annoying restrictions
as to exposure and occupation, that,
whether in America or England or "Sunny
Italy," he must still walk carefully and feel
that his recovery depends more upon his
obedience to hygienic laws in general than
upon any healing influences of air or medi-
cine. Self-denial is the condition of recov-
ery, nay, of existence, for the invalid in any
clime; a condition, alas! too often misin-
terpreted as selfishness by uncomprehending
friends, and too often violated, especially by
the traveler, for their sake.
Another suggestion, which may not be
2
18
AT HOME IN ITALY.
inappropriate, is that, before coming abroad,
one should endeavor to settle as far as possi-
ble the purpose and plan of life here, and to
make definite preparation for it by reading
and study. The traveler who neglects to
apportion beforehand his time will find him-
self distracted between the claims of differ-
ent countries upon his attention, and will,
be drawn hither and thither by the advice
of friends without accomplishing anything
thoroughly. And he who does not know,
at least in a general way, what he wants to
see and to do in any particular spot before
arriving at it, will waste much time in
"reading up" when time is precious. This
may seem very commonplace advice, but
any one who has been abroad will hardly
say that it is unnecessary. And the amount
of ignorance displayed by travelers in re-
gard to foreign countries is certainly as-
tounding. We have become accustomed to
English ignorance of America, and are not
surprised at all sorts of ridiculous questions
and patronizing wonder at our civilized ap-
pearance. I can reply calmly to such ques-
tions as whether New England is in Massa-
chusetts, and hear without offense that I
speak English almost as if I was an Eng-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
19
lishwoman; for I know that the speakers
do not care to explore our savage wilds for
themselves, and I do not care that they
should. But when I heard one of my own
country-women, who had come deliberately
to 66
see Europe," inquire of a gentleman
who had ascended Mont Blanc, “Is there a
road up Mont Blanc, or do you scrabble
up any way you can?"-I thought a few
months' preparatory reading would have
been a good thing for herself and for the
honor of her country. How profound, on
the contrary, was the enjoyment of another
traveler, also an American, who had so thor-
oughly studied the history and topography
of ancient Rome that he was able to point
out innumerable interesting points to his
companions, which professional cicerones
would pass over! Of course, such intimate
knowledge as his is only possible to a man
of retired and studious life; but even in the
whirl of business some moments may be
snatched, and with the abundant aids which
Americans have at hand in works of history
and travel, and in the graphic sketches of
foreign lands with which our magazines
abound, there is no excuse for not knowing
something of what almost every American
20
AT HOME IN ITALY.
hopes, some day, to behold for himself.
Now that a European tour is regarded as
such a désirable and practicable adjunct of
education for young people, a new meaning
and liveliness is given to all those studies
which relate to the Old World. Hugh Mil-
ler tells us in his autobiography that he had
an invincible disgust for learning his letters,
till, one day, his teacher reproached him for
his backwardness by telling him that he
would never be able to read the stories he
liked to hear so much if he did not conquer
the alphabet. It was putting the matter in
a new light to his young mind; he "saw
the use of letters," and thenceforth his prog-
ress was rapid. So ancient history be-
comes to us a new thing in these days of
travel, when we hope to see Thermopylæ
and Marathon, and the land of the Cæsars.
The country of Virgil and of Cicero is no
longer far off, but brought nigh to us by the
swiftships, and the wonders of photography.
Michael Angelo and Raphael are waiting
for us at Florence and at Rome; all the
past is the inheritance of the present gener-
ation and for most not hopelessly out of
reach.
And here I am moved to say a word
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
21
about the facile way in which American
parents yield to the desires of their daugh-
ters for foreign study. Clara Louise Kellogg
has already done a good deed in pointing
out the dangers which attend the path of
young girls who come to Italy or to any
other European country alone. Whatever
we may think of the social code of these
countries, it is worse than useless for us to
defy it. True, here and there a young lady
may, owing to favorable circumstances, pass
through the ordeal without being seriously
annoyed, but it is not one to which careful
guardians would willingly expose a young
girl. It is one to which they would hardly
expose her in a large city of her native land.
In my opinion, there are no circumstances,
even of exceptional talent and poverty com-
bined, which justify the sending forth a girl
without protection. And it is too true that
many young persons act with rather less
than more caution here than at home.
I am beginning to think that Hawthorne's
"Hilda" has done a great deal of harm in
luring her sisters over the sea. They read
how "her gentle courage had brought her
over land and sea; her mild, unflagging per-
severance had made a place for her in the fa-
22
AT HOME IN ITALY.
mous city," and they are aware of possessing
plenty of both these requisites. But alas!
"the light that never was on sea or land'
broods over the great romancer's story; and
if he knew them, it was not within the scope
of his artistic purpose to do more than hint
at the dangers which the actual Hildas en-
counter. Let us be just. I much question
whether if an Italian or French girl should
take up her abode unknown and unauthen-
ticated in Boston or New York, even were
her deportment quite consistent with Ameri-
can rules of propriety, she would be admit-
ted at once as a companion of those young
ladies whose parents feel that they confer
honor on Italy or Germany by sending their
daughters thither unchaperoned, and who
complain if inexperience and imprudence
do not always secure respect. I am not
drawing upon my imagination. Every year
affords us dwellers here examples of the
truth of what I say, which, were I at liberty
to relate them, would convince those who
have placed their children in such trying sit-
uations that their ignorance or thoughtless-
ness has exposed their dearest ones to serious
evils.
Supposing Italy to be decided upon as a
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
23
temporary home, and, as usual, one of the
large cities selected as a residence, the next
point is, how most comfortably to establish
one's self there. In regard to the material
well-being of a transplanted family, the main
things to be sought and found do not differ
widely throughout Italy. Probably, to any
one who has lived abroad, many of my sug-
gestions will seem very commonplace and
trivial; but they are such as would have
spared the writer much difficulty and some
vexations had they been known in advance.
So long as one remains in a hôtel or pen-
sion one understands little or nothing of the
difficulties of living in a foreign country.
One does not come into direct contact with
national peculiarities, except in a very mild
way; there is a steady flow of eatables, as
per contract; and, if they are not delivered
satisfactorily as to quality and quantity,
there is only one person to be dealt with
therefor, and a few trunks to be packed if
he proves incorrigible. The echoes of his
struggles with refractory cooks and market-
men do not penetrate to your apartment,
and, though you sigh for the “American
cooking" that you think you would have,
could you be more independently situated,
24
AT HOME IN ITALY.
there are compensations in your present
mode of life which, if you do not speak the
language of the country, and are an ease-
loving person, you will do well not to resign
hastily. Hôtel-pensions, as they are called,
combining good attendance with moderate
prices, are to be met with in every city, and
generally are worthy of high recommenda-
tion. One has the choice of a table d'hôte
with substantial courses and no display, or,
for a very slight difference of expense, a pri-
vate table. Board in these establishments
varies, according to rooms and service, from
eight to twelve francs a day, and, in case of
large families or long sojourn, may be had
at considerably cheaper rates. The private
boarding-houses come next, and here the va-
riety is greater than in the hôtel-pensions,
as to price and accommodations; and much
more care is requisite in making a selection.
The prices range from five to eleven francs.
per day; for seven francs one ought to get
a good room and English cuisine. Rome is
dearer than Florence or Milan, but rather
in the cost of lodging than food. These
rates cannot be called exorbitant, as they
are at present.
Florence has been reputed a cheap city to
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
25
live in, but it does not now deserve that
name. While it was the capital of Italy,
great outlays were made for improvements,
both public and private; the city was ex-
tended and beautified in every direction;
but that time of prosperity and promise was
soon over, and when Rome became the seat
of government, Florence was left with its
embellishments to enjoy and-to pay for.
Thousands of families were necessarily
transferred to Rome, being connected with
government offices, and those who remain
find the taxes so heavy that they also long
to flee away. Something of this must of
course be felt by all who reside here tempo-
rarily; but a foreigner will in general care
more for the enjoyment he derives from the
modern improvements; the broad, well-
lighted, well-paved streets of the new quar-
ters, the delightful squares, the beautiful
park by the Arno, and the boulevards,
which things make Florence a safe and
pleasant place for his residence till July or
August, long after Rome and Milan are un-
bearable, than for the increase of expen-
diture they entail. I do not believe there
is in Europe a city which unites more ad-
vantages for the residence of foreigners de-
26
AT HOME IN ITALY.
sirous of comfort, social enjoyment, and gen-
eral culture, than Florence. I shall take
this city as a standard in speaking of details
in regard to a residence in Italy — though,
as I have said, most of the suggestions I
have to offer are applicable elsewhere.
Supposing the foreigner to be disposed
for housekeeping in Italy, and not disposed
to become the proprietor of a house or villa,
he has the choice between an unfurnished
or furnished apartment; between providing
his own domestic service, or leaving the
kitchen arrangements to the care of a stew-
ard. If he is going to remain for a number
of years, and needs a large apartment, he
can undoubtedly reconcile comfort and econ-
omy by furnishing his own house and his
own table, managing in all these respects as
he would do in his own country. But as to
location and the interior arrangements of
his apartment, he cannot be too careful.
The houses being mostly built around a
court, it is of the utmost importance to know
what are the ideas of the proprietor as to
sanitary regulations; whether the drains
are kept in good order, and the wells cleaned
every year, and no nuisances allowed. Nor
can he be too particular in regard to the
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
27
terms of his lease, else he may find himself
ousted for some tenant who offers a larger
rent, unless he is willing to submit to ex-
tortionate demands upon his own purse.
He must know what class of tenants inhabit
the other floors, and especially the one above
him; for I am supposing that he intends to
live, not en prince, but as an ordinary mor-
tal, occupying one flat of the building.
And here let me say a word in praise of the
system of "living in flats," which does not
find a very ready welcome, as it seems, in
the American mind. We are so much at-
tached to our fancied independence in being
sole proprietors of our own narrow strip of
house-room, from earth to sky, so unwilling
to share our staircases and corridors with
others, that we consider this seclusion to
compensate for all other inconveniences. I
do not know of more patient and uncom-
plaining toilers than New York women who
spend at least a quarter of their day, and
more than that of their strength, in the as-
cent and descent of their interminable stair-
cases. Let them but give a fair trial to an-
other plan and vote it the fashion, and we
should see more blooming faces on Broad-
way. Here we climb from the street a
28
AT HOME IN ITALY.
steep, perhaps long, flight of stone steps;
but, once in our dwelling, we can go from
parlor to kitchen and from dining-room to
nursery without further tax upon our
strength. And we find no intrusion upon
our privacy from this manner of living;
often we do not know even the name of the
family above or below us; the thick walls
and floors afford a protection from ordinary
sounds; and if there be a porter, as in all
first-class houses, it is his duty and pride to
keep the entrance and staircases in good or-
der, to receive and transmit messages, and
exercise proper surveillance at night.
A good apartment of ten rooms in the new
parts of Florence may be had for from $300
to $500 a year (the first and second floors,
which are the most desirable), and one of
six or seven rooms, not handsome, but com-
fortable, for half that sum. Furniture, if
thoroughly made, is not much cheaper than
in America; the same is true of carpets of
good quality. But it is possible to furnish
sufficiently well for a few years without any
great outlay, and there are a hundred quaint
and pretty trifles which one can pick up at
the curiosity shops that give a home-like
look to plain rooms. The floors are the
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
29
great cross of foreigners. For anything like
comfort, and even for safety against rheu-
matism in winter, it is absolutely necessary
to put matting or straw and paper under-
neath the carpets; and, even with this pre-
caution, an abundance of rugs and footstools
is needed to guard against the chill of the
damp stone. As to heating arrangements,
if the chimneys do not smoke, it is a great
boon, and one hardly to be expected; but
that the stoves or fire-places existing in the
house will warm the rooms properly is not
to be looked for. It will pay, both in saving
of wood and temper, if one is to reside in
Italy for a few years, to bring a couple of
American stoves of simple pattern, an
old-fashioned air-tight for the hall, and a
Franklin to burn wood or coke for the par-
lor; not forgetting the stove-blacking, as the
"Rising Sun" has never shone upon these
regions. The cost of transportation is not
great, and there is a ready market among
the foreign population for any kind of an
American stove; indeed, I have sometimes
thought that an American stove dealer and
a good locksmith would make their fortunes
speedily in an Italian city frequented by
foreigners. Several good locks for doors and
30
AT HOME IN ITALY.
trunks should also be provided; the Italian
ones are all of the same pattern, and afford
no security, and imported ones are very dear.
If cotton sheets are considered desirable,
they should also be included in the list for
transportation. As to kitchen furniture,
the Italians all use copper, and pride them-
selves on its fine appearance. The shapes
of many of the utensils being antique, and
exceedingly graceful, there is something
picturesque in the appearance of an Italian
kitchen filled with these things; but alas!
they are dangerous as well as ornamental, if
not cared for with the greatest diligence,
and relined with tin very frequently. They
are also very expensive. It is now possible
to obtain all the vessels needed, in iron, lined
with porcelain; and for many uses the com-
mon red pottery is excellent, as being easily
kept clean, and of little cost. For lighting
we must depend upon candles and kerosene,
though in the newer houses there is gener-
ally a gas-burner in the hall. But we shall
probably want, for the sake of association at
least, one or two of the brass oil lamps of
antique form, which are still as much in use
among the people as they were in the days
of Pompeii. As you enter a house of the
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
31
older class at night, you may well fancy
yourself carried back some centuries at least.
You ring at the heavy outer door, the bolt
is drawn back from above, and you are in a
black passage-way. Presently there is a
sound of unbolting another door, a feeble
glimmer of light, and a distant voice calling
down the stairway, " Chi è ?" "Amici!"
you reply, and then the lamp is hung
over the balusters while you ascend, or comes
slowly flickering down to meet you. If the
comer is the postman or the bearer of a pack-
age, a basket is let down, being kept always
at hand for that purpose.
As I have warned the seeker for apart-
ments to be particular in some respects even
to minuteness, so let me caution him not to
be deterred from taking an otherwise desir-
able suite of rooms because of their forlorn
appearance to his uninstructed eye. Most
Italian houses are more or less irregular in
construction, careless in finish, and defective
in the coloring of the walls and the wood-
work. The doors and window-frames very
seldom satisfy one accustomed to American
carpentry. In the old palaces, some of which
have come to be rented in flats, there is a
sober harmony of color and solidity of work-
32
AT HOME IN ITALY.
manship, which is more pleasing than the
glaring paint of the new buildings; but, as
a general thing, they are to be avoided for
hygienic reasons. As Hawthorne says:
“When people insist on building indestruct-
ible houses, they incur, or their children do,
a misfortune analogous to that of the sibyl
when she obtained the grievous boon of im-
mortality. We
We may build almost immortal
habitations, it is true, but we cannot keep
them from growing old, musty, unwhole-
some, and dreary." If the walls of your
apartment are rough and hideously painted,
a small outlay will cover them with a decent
paper. Curtains will defend the windows
from too close scrutiny, and portières will
conceal the ugliest doors. Of course there
are palaces newly built, where you may
have gilding and plate-glass, but, if you do
not wish to pay for these, a little patience
and contrivance will soon transform a bare
apartment into a household paradise. I
could name a score of homes in Florence, not
belonging to the wealthiest class of foreign
residents, which for real taste and comfort
are not surpassed by any I have ever seen
elsewhere.
In speaking of a "good" apartment, it
•
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
33
occurs to me that I may easily convey a mis-
understanding to the American mind. It is
expected of apartments so denominated here
that the floors shall be covered; but with
what sort of covering, or in what stage of
dissolution, is according to chance and the
very questionable taste of the proprietor.
It
may be a new Brussels of the most atro-
cious hues, or a lovely old Turkey carpet;
or, as once happened to me, a yellow-and-red
felt. There will be plenty of curtains, snowy
white; in fact, too many, about the beds;
and the furniture will be ample in quantity,
clumsy in form, and diverse in color. I
found in the first parlor I took possession of
in Italy a green-and-yellow carpet, a sky-
blue sofa and chairs, a solferino arm-chair,
and a scarlet table-cover. I bargained to
exchange the blue and solferino things for
others much more worn, but less hideously
contrasting, greatly to the surprise of the
padrona, who could not imagine why I did
not like her fine, newly-covered furniture.
But whether it is that the eye becomes ac-
customed here to the universal prevalence
of bright colors in strong contrast, or whether
from the effort to be indifferent to what is
displeasing, after a few years' residence here
34
AT HOME IN ITALY.
one bears these incongruities much better
than at first, though I trust I may never be
left to indulge in them voluntarily. As I
write, in the parlor of a hired villa, I am
surrounded by chairs and a sofa covered with
solferino and yellow, a green-and-yellow arm-
chair, and a lounge of scarlet and brown. I
am utterly at a loss to account for the want
of sensitiveness to the harmony of color
which prevails among a beauty-loving nation
like the Italians. It is seen not only in the
house-furnishing, but in the ladies' dress, and
mars the elegance of many an expensive
toilet.
As to the expense of furnishing the table,
the difference between Italy and America is
not so great as conversation with Italians,
or even the reading of the market price-list,
would lead one to suppose. An American
family will devour more meat at one meal
than an Italian family in two days; and
this difference holds from choice and habit
among the higher classes as well as from ne-
cessity among the lower, who live chiefly on
bread, salads, and oil. Many foreigners re-
siding long in Italy also lose their desire for
much animal food, and crave, instead, fruit
and vegetables. But for a table furnished
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
35
à l'Anglaise, hardly less outlay of money
is necessary in Florence than in New York.
For it must be remembered that a pound of
meat is but twelve ounces here; and, con-
sequently, if you order a roast of the same
weight that you would in America, you
would be disappointed in its looks when it
comes home. A pound of sugar will hardly
'go round" for breakfast in a large family;
and as for the fowls, they have a marvelous
development of bone and sinew, which pays
the seller better than the buyer. As for
shutting up fowls to fatten before killing,
except with capons, for which an enormous
price is asked, it does not seem to be thought
of. They give evidence of melancholy and
laborious lives, and do not much rejoice the
eater. The pigeons in market look better
than the chickens, but I soon found out that
it was because they were filled with water
to make them plump. Fowls are not sold
by the pound, consequently the price varies
according to the dealer's fancy and the will-
ingness of the buyer. Beef, for steaks and
roasts, costs about eighteen cents a pound;
for soup pieces ten cents to twelve cents.
Veal and lamb are in about the same pro-
portion to beef as at home, eggs are sixteen
36
AT HOME IN ITALY.
cents a dozen, in summer. Flour is twenty
cents a pound. Nobody thinks of buying
more than a pound or two of it at a time, as
there is very little use for it, our bread and
pastry being made at the shops.
Indeed, our store-rooms present a woefully
poverty-stricken aspect to a housekeeper ac-
customed to the American style of provid-
ing; and at night, especially in the warm
season, we are not unfrequently in the cir-
cumstances of Mother Hubbard; or should
be, if our dogs had not learned by experi-
ence that there is nothing to be had to eat
between supper-time and breakfast. For
ourselves we send out to a café for cakes
and ices, if we want anything in the even-
ing. In fact, I allude to store-rooms with
reserve and delicacy, because in many apart-
ments they are only represented by a wire
cage hung in the well or outside the kitchen
window. That we do sometimes long for
the big pantries, the barrels of flour and
sugar, the stores of ham and dried beef and
cans of preserves, which have seemed to be
the necessary conditions of living in Amer-
ica, is undeniable. But then, what could
we do with them? The flour would spoil
before it was used; the sugar would get
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
37
damp, and the preserves sour; so we live
from day to day, and live just as well so
when we get used to it. Nobody thinks it
strange to sell or to buy five cents' worth
of cheese or ten cents' worth of potatoes.
Patience is an Italian characteristic, and a
shopman does up a ten-cent purchase as
carefully and politely as a twenty-dollar
one. Tea is best obtained of the English
druggists, and costs from $1 to $1.50 a
pound for good qualities. Mocha coffee is
fifty cents a pound (twelve ounces, remem-
ber). Strawberries are ten cents a pound
during the season of plenty, and cherries
about six cents. Good peaches and pears
cost about two cents apiece, and winter ap-
ples for table use about the same. Potatoes
are one cent a pound, English walnuts are
twenty cents a pound, and raisins the same;
but Bordeaux prunes are only eight cents,
and lemons freshly picked and Sicily oranges
one to three cents apiece. I have given the
prices of these things at Florence; but at
Rome they are just about the same, sugar
being two cents a pound cheaper, and fowls
a little dearer. In Siena, Perugia, and some
other smaller cities, the prices of meat and
vegetables are cheaper, and service also is
38
AT HOME IN ITALY.
very much less expensive, a good cook being
obtainable for $2 per month, while in Flor-
ence or Rome one pays from $4 to $6 per
month. The latter rates seem cheap indeed
to us, but are in strict proportion to those
paid for work demanding skill and instruc-
tion. In fact, all the salaries of army and
government officials, and of teachers and
professors, are so low as to also appear al-
most ridiculous to our American ideas, while
the taxes are greatly out of proportion to
them, and are increasing every year. Here-
in again is seen the Italian patience in bear-
ing the burdens, and making the sacrifices
which her lately-acquired unity and free-
dom have imposed upon her citizens.
II.
It is the general impression that nobody
stays in Italy in the summer who can get
away; that the country is a fiery furnace
by day, and a source of pestilential vapors
by night; unfit for habitation except by
those who by birth or acclimation are proof
against both. During the first warm days
of May there is a grand exodus of travel-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
39
ers to Switzerland and France. They will
not believe it possible to stay longer with
comfort or safety, so off they go, losing
some of the most beautiful days that Italy
can boast. And here let me say that the
observations which have given the Italian
climate so bad a reputation during the sum-
mer months have been made mostly by
English rather than American travelers.
The Englishman, accustomed to the damp,
cool atmosphere of his northern, cloudy
land, suffers more from the untempered
sunbeams of Italy in April than a New
Yorker or Philadelphian would in July.
So, too, the Italian skies are judged by an
English standard. Beautiful they are in-
deed, but not a whit more brilliant than
those of our own land. An American sees
nothing in sunset or moonrise which he has
not learned to admire from childhood, while
to an Englishman every day is a revelation
of the possibilities of light and color.
In putting in a defense of Italy as a safe
residence for foreigners in the summer
months, of course I do not speak of those
places which from some local cause are ex-
traordinarily warm or exposed to malaria.
Rome and Naples must certainly be shunned
40
AT HOME IN ITALY.
on these accounts, and in my opinion should
be resorted to with caution at any season of
the year. But the cities of northern and
central Italy are as comfortable till July
as New York or Boston; in fact, more so,
in consequence of the thicker house- walls
and higher ceilings. In a small apartment
in Florence, much exposed to the sun, the
mercury in the hottest days of July was
never above 80°, and in one of the larger
and higher rooms in the same neighborhood,
rarely over 72°. We have several times re-
mained in Florence till the beginning of Au-
gust, and till the last week of July were not
desirous to leave the city. It is, I think, al-
ways possible for those whose occupations
do not oblige them to go out in the middle
of the day to remain at least through June
with pleasure, and without more danger than
in an American city. And those who have
not seen Italy in her summer glory have not
seen the half of her beauty. Our morning
walks on the Cascine, the drives at sunset on
the Viale de Colle or to Fiesole, and the
Lung Arno by summer moonlight, are as
much more charming in summer than in
winter, as Boston Common is different in
January and July. Over all the beauty of
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
41
Italian scenery in winter there is an aspect
of melancholy, attractive indeed, but sad-
dening. The gray olives and the dark
stone pines and cypresses then give the
tone to the landscape and harmonize with
the ruined towers or temples which not in-
frequently form the foreground of the pic-
ture. But the early days of March bring a
change; the fruit trees bloom, the gorgeous
wild flowers spring up by every path; and
by the middle of April the wealth of green
and of blossoms overpowers the sombre
tints of winter, and gives an aspect to the
country which, if less poetic, is to an eye
accustomed to English or American scenery
a most welcome change. The abundance
of flowers and fruits displayed in the streets
makes even the city gay; and the universal
love of plants, and their facile growth in
the kindly air and soil, make not only the
palace gardens, but the "back-yards,” which
in America are an abomination of desola-
tion, bright with masses of flowering shrubs
and vines.
As to country houses, many of their pro-
prietors are willing to let them for a very
reasonable sum, except for the months of
September and October, the time of vintage
42
AT HOME IN ITALY.
and of country pleasures in perfection, when
they occupy them themselves. These vil-
las are much resorted to, during the spring
and early summer, by foreigners, and form
a pleasant change from the city when it is
still too early to go to the shore or the
mountains. The hills about all the large
cities are plentifully sprinkled with such
villas; and for those not desiring much
room, an apartment, or flat, may usually
be procured without renting the whole house.
They are generally rather gloomy-looking
abodes at first sight- the rooms being large,
high, and dim, with bare floors of brick or
cement, and scantily furnished. There are
all sorts of passage-ways, and courts, and
arches, and there are steps in the most un-
expected places, so that you walk warily
till you get accustomed to these pitfalls.
Often there is an old chapel connected with
the villa, and occasionally a haunted cham-
ber (it may be the best in the house), left
unfurnished for the sole use of the ghostly
visitor. All looks grim and forbidding
when you go to see the place on a cool
spring day; there is a musty smell in the
shut-up rooms, and you doubt about ever
feeling at home in them. But with the
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE
43
summer sunshine and open windows, and
the rugs and work-table and books that you
can take with you; with great vases of
flaming poppies to light up the depths of
shadow, and the sweet June roses to per-
fume it, there comes over the villa another
aspect, and you see what it is, a summer
house; a cool retreat from the blazing sun,
and a place to dream away the summer days
in. Outside, there are olive orchards and
grain fields and vineyards, full of the most
beautiful and luxuriant wild flowers, and
threaded by tempting little paths. A mile
from the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence, one
may find himself as deep in country solitude
as on a Massachusetts hill-farm.
is
The rent of these villas, as I have said,
very moderate. Quite a large one can
be procured for $20 to $50 per month, and
a good apartment of five rooms for $16.
The price, of course, ranges according to sit-
uation and size; and often in some out-of-
the-way nook one finds the most charming
quarters for a very small outlay. The great
difficulty is to find them. In Italy, when
one wants an apartment, in city or country,
it is in vain to look to the newspapers for
aid; the Italians do not take kindly to ad-
44
AT HOME IN ITALY.
vertising, and it is rather a bad sign as to
the desirability of a house, when you see
it put up for sale in the newspaper. The
only way is to torment your acquaintances,
and go yourself over every foot of the quar-
ter where you desire to fix your residence.
There is not always even a placard to indi-
cate that a house is to let, there is a tax
on placards. When the spring opened and
the country roads became practicable, we
used to drive out almost every day, armed
with a list of addresses, some one of which
was to prove the “ open sesame to our
earthly paradise. In this way we spent as
much money as would have taken us to
Switzerland, but we saw a great deal of na-
and of human nature, — in compen-
""
ture,
sation. As soon as our errand was known
in any village, we were sure to be sur-
rounded by a crowd only too willing to offer
suggestions of other villas in case the one
we sought should prove unsatisfactory. All
the places indicated were only "two steps.
away;" but ere we arrived at some of them
we thought our informants must have sup-
posed us to wear seven-league boots. Some
were already taken; some were not villas
at all, but vile-smelling apartments in a vil-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
45
lage street; some were brand-new; and I
was determined I would not live in a modern
villa in Italy; I wanted one with weather-
stains and thick walls and a secret staircase,
and a history, if not a ghost.
One such excursion was amusing enough.
We were informed by a friend that there
was a villa about ten minutes' walk from
one of the city gates, which was to be rented
unfurnished, and for the whole year. He
had not seen it, but we thought it worth
while to do so. Luckily we took a carriage,
owing to certain forebodings in the mind of
the weaker member of the party, that the
"ten minutes' walk" might prove to have
been somewhat understated we had in
fact, a drive of three miles before arriving
at the villa indicated, most of the road being
up hill; and we had almost concluded that
it would be as well to turn back, before ar-
riving there. However, we decided to see
the place, and accordingly rang at the door,
which was opened a mere crack by an old
woman, who looked as if she was fully pre-
pared for visitors of a different character.
In her hand was an open clasp-knife, which
looked as if it could do good service against
thieves. I was startled at first, but, as she
·
46
AT HOME IN ITALY.
produced the other hand from behind the
door, I saw that it contained a wedge of
bread evidently hard enough to require the
services of such an instrument. "Is this
the Villa C-?" asked my companion.
"Yes," was the laconic reply, and the door
was not opened any wider. "Can we see
it?" was the next question. "What do
you want to see it for?" "We hear it is to
66
let, and we want to look at it.” "Well, I
suppose you can, if I can get somebody to
chain up the dog." Why? Is he so sav-
age?" "Oh yes, he always bites strangers.
But you can come in if you like." I re-
treated hastily to the carriage instead of
accepting the invitation, but at length, on
being assured that the dog was chained, I
ventured into the courtyard, and with fear
and trembling examined the lower story of
the house, very soon concluding that it was
not for us, especially as the dog was a fix-
ture of the establishment, and, I feared, the
woman also. There is always a dog, and
generally more than one. There are three
at the villa which we finally took: as to the
one supposed to be the guardian, who barks
most ferociously, I have the consolation of
knowing that he has lost all his teeth and is
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE
47
a great coward; the other two belong to the
padrona, for her special delectation, and are
strictly relegated to her own apartment.
But it is a great drawback to a timid person
in country visiting here to have to run the
gauntlet of barks and growls from the court-
yard gate to the house door; and, as we con-
tinually hear of robberies, I cannot think
that the animals are very serviceable as burg-
lar alarms.
As usual, we found what we wanted just
when and where we least expected it. As
we were slowly driving up a hill about three
miles from Florence one day, we saw the
magic word," Affittasi”. (To Let) upon an
iron gate, whence a long rose-bordered ave-
nue led inward to a house so buried in shrub-
bery that only its square roof and a belfry
were visible. I thought it was a convent,
but my companion said that a convent would
not be to let, and she afterward told me that
her prophetic soul whispered to her that
that was to be our home. There was indeed
plenty of time for prophesying before any-
body appeared in answer to our violent at-
tacks upon the bell; and when at last a
small boy presented himself he was not sure
whether his father was at home, or whether
48
AT HOME IN ITALY.
he could show us the house if he was. A
few sous quickened his anxiety to find his
parent, and by the time we had come to the
end of the avenue, admiring at every step
the vistas, through the olives of Florence
away below us, the father was awaiting us
with his keys.. We passed through another
gate into an ilex grove, and around to the
western front of the house, to the main en-
trance. It was not a handsome house exter-
nally, but that it was old its thick, storm-
battered walls and irregular windows gave
evidence. Entering a small vestibule, we
passed into a hall some forty feet square,
and at least sixty in height, lighted by small
windows near the top. There were great
doors on every side, and above them the busts
of the builder's warlike and ecclesiastical
ancestors, each with his attendant cherubs,
uncomfortably poised on one foot, and hold-
ing shields. Between these doors were high
broad divans, which with a bronze lamp
hanging from the centre of the ceiling were
its only furnishings.
"What a place to read and rest in sum-
mer days!" was my practical comment.
"See, there is just a divan apiece, and one
to spare for a guest."
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
49
Our guide opened the different doors and
showed us the large, cheerful-looking rooms.
They had windows opening down to the
floor. The furniture was somewhat scanty,
and more picturesque than comfortable, con-
sisting of spider-legged tables, straight-
backed chairs and hard sofas, high curtained
beds of immense size and curious old cabi-
nets and mirrors. There was a billiard-room
with a rather rickety table. The ground-
floor afforded ample space for bestowing
ourselves; and up-stairs was another set of
rooms, not so lofty, but commanding a fine
view. Below there was a wonderful kitchen,
with a fire-place big enough to roast an ox;
besides the usual stone table with grates for
ordinary cooking, with a wide-throated
chimney above it. Various catacomb-like
passages led to the cellars, which we did not
care to explore. But the crowning discov- i
ery was a secret staircase leading from the
ground floor to the chambers. After this
there was no alternative but to take the
villa. As to age, it satisfied me tolerably.
It was not old, compared with many others
we had seen, but neither was it exactly mod-
ern, having been built, as a tablet in the
great hall informed us, in 1692. There was
1
4
50
AT HOME IN ITALY.
also a delightful tradition that a certain
wicked grand duke of Tuscany had used it
as a temporary prison for political offenders.
Indeed, there were hiding-places enough
where, as our timid maid complained, "if
you were shut in, nobody could hear you if
you screamed all day;" there were dark
closets, with cupboards still darker and ap-
parently endless, opening out of them;
there were steps leading to walled-up doors;
and in the floor of a corridor there were
several traps, which being pried up disclosed
deep wells about the size of a man's body,
which our imagination stoutly asserted to be
oubliettes, in spite of the gardener's declara-
tion that they were only intended for pour-
ing grain into the cellar. Outside there
was a prim garden with box-bordered alleys,
at the end of the house, and sloping south
a lawn with here and there a magnolia or
chestnut; and two tall, gaunt stone pines
stood like sentinels on either side of a dilap-
idated gateway leading to a cypress-shaded
The house and lawn were framed
in olive-orchards, where the grass was al-
ready bright with the great red and purple
anemones and yellow daffodils of March.
avenue.
We went away in a state of fascination,
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
51
and impatient to return. But we had had
experience in Italian bargaining, and we
knew that in patience and seeming indiffer-
ence lay our only hope of success. We
were, of course, asked an enormous price by
the owner's man of business; and equally
of course, we offered him the half of it.
After coquetting for a couple of months,
each party apparently retiring from the con-
test several times, one day the agent ap-
peared with his face wreathed in smiles and
accepted an offer in behalf of his principal,
saying that he had persuaded the Marchese
M—
-to accept our terms, and he trusted
we would remember his zeal for our wel-
fare! As we happened to know that the
previous occupant of the villa had paid less
than we offered, we did not feel under
crushing obligations.
nest.
After this our preparations began in ear-
We made frequent journeys to the
villa ostensibly to see what we should need
to take with us in the way of furniture, but
really because I had so fallen in love with
the place that I could not keep away from
it. Sooner or later this villa-madness comes
to all who stay long in Italy. At last the
time so impatiently waited for came, and
52
AT HOME IN ITALY.
on the first of June we were up betimes and
impatient to be off.
mar-
Villa M― stands on a high bluff on
the south bank of the Arno, just opposite
the little hamlet of C.
-. There are two'
ways of reaching it from Florence; by a
winding, hilly country road on the same side
of the river, or by the highway on the north
side, by a ferry at C- We expected
to get all our supplies from the C
ket by means of this ferry, as we were as-
sured by the gardener that whatever was
not grown at the villa itself could be found
there. As the hill-road was longer and
harder, we concluded to transport ourselves
and our belongings by the highway and
ferry. Punctuality is not one of the virtues
of the Italian peasant, and before our van
was packed and corded, heavy clouds were
coming up behind the eastern hills, and the
weather looked so threatening that we were
half-inclined to delay our departure till the
following day. But, as the cook had gone
to the villa on the previous evening, it would
have been awkward to wait, and I had a
horror of postponements; so we started.
Just before arriving at C the rain
came down in torrents, and the baggage-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
53
van had to seek shelter in a barn, while we
pressed on to the ferry, thinking it best, as
the villa was so near, to make a dash for it.
Alas! We had not reflected on the fickle-
ness of the Arno, which in a few hours,
owing to heavy rains in the mountains dur-
ing the night, had changed from a creeping,
sluggish stream to a turbid flood.
The boatman looked at his frail craft,
and shook his head: "Per Bacco!” said
he, "you don't expect to get across while
the river looks like that?"
"Well, how soon, do you suppose, will it
go down?"
"Oh, in four or five hours, if it stops.
raining up stream. You might go to the
Black Eagle,” he continued, seeing our dis-
appointment, "it's not at all a bad little
inn, — and I 'll let you know in a couple of
hours if you are likely to get across to-day."
Here was a dilemma. Should we go back
to Florence and take the other road, or wait
the pleasure of the Arno?
66
"Ah, these forestieri!" muttered the
ferryman, as an exclamation of impatience
escaped me. They think the winds and
the waters ought to obey them instead of
the Lord God. Dio mio! what a people!"
54
AT HOME IN ITALY.
However, he went to examine his measur-
ing-line, and reported the river as falling, so
we concluded to accept his advice and wait
at least a few hours rather than to take the
long drive. The ferryman guided us to the
inn, whose entrance evidently served for
man and beast, the kitchen opening on one
side of the passage and the stable on the
other, but up-stairs we found, to our sur-
prise, large, clean-looking rooms. The rain
ceased, and the sun shone out; we could see
the chimneys of our villa, and very tantaliz-
ing it was to behold them “ so near and yet
so far." There was nothing for it but pa-
tience, so we strolled through the village
and inspected the market, but did not find
it so satisfactory as we had been led to ex-
pect. As for vegetables, there were none to
be seen except a few sorry-looking beets
and some limp lettuce. "I suppose we shall
get all these things at the villa,” said I.
After such an apology for lunch as the
inn and the baker's shop could furnish, and
another long waiting, at last the ferryman
came to announce that he thought he could
take us across. The river was indeed much
lower than in the morning, though the cur-
rent was still strong, and the boat was car-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
55
ried a long way down stream in crossing;
but there was no real danger, and we were
too happy at having escaped the necessity
of going back to Florence to imagine any.
How delightful seemed the cool and spa-
cious rooms of the villa in contrast to the
heat and glare out of doors! After dinner
we had chairs brought out on the lawn, and
sat watching the sunset. It seemed as if
we were months and leagues away from
the life of yesterday. Only the twinkling
lights afar off showed where the city we had
quitted was lying breathless in the heat.
A nightingale sang us his welcome out of
the darkness of the stone pines; and pres-
ently the moon rose over Vallombrosa, and
touched the glossy magnolia leaves with
silver, and made a gray mist of the olives.
The river was defined by a long white line
of vapor; but here on the heights the air
was soft and warm till past midnight.
The next day showed us the reverse of
the medal. To our disappointment, the
sky was leaden and pouring rain. Nor was
the domestic heaven much brighter. The
cook came to say that she had only charcoal
enough to boil the kettle for breakfast, the
gardener not having been able to procure
56
AT HOME IN ITALY.
it, as he promised. As cooking without
charcoal in an Italian kitchen is an impossi-
bility, this was a serious matter. The cook
set off to procure it, and our supplies of
food, in the rain; and came back in a very
bad temper. The boat had been nearly
swamped in crossing; there was no roast to
be had, and no fruit or vegetables fit for the
signori to eat. For her part, she thought
we should starve, and the sooner we went
back to Florence the better. I interviewed
the gardener: "Were there no artichokes?"
"No, they were all gone." "No peas?"
"They were not big enough yet." "No as-
paragus?" "It did not grow well on that
soil." But he would find something, the
signora might rest assured of that, and with
a "Stia tranquilla " he went off. In about
half an hour he came back triumphant, with
a pint of almost invisible peas, and a quart
of cherries, accompanied by a small and very
dirty boy, who offered seven strawberries
on a cabbage leaf. Our fare that day was
not, either in quality or quantity, what our
country appetites demanded. Finally, we
concluded not to depend at all on the pre-
carious market of C, and
by a little
forethought and painstaking we were able
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
57
to get our daily supplies from Florence by
diligence without difficulty. Indeed, after
a little experience, I found it easy to keep
house in the country.
The contadini under training make excel-
lent servants, and are far more sincere and
pleasing in their ways than their city breth-
ren and sisters. Not much can be procured
for the table without sending into the city,
except milk and eggs. The country butter
is not good, and the bread is not acceptable
to foreigners. A servant goes down, about
six in the morning, to market, and brings
up supplies for the day, and, everything be-
ing put up with fresh vine-leaves or in tin
boxes, if she does not linger on the way, as
often happens, to hear mass or gossip with
a friend, the contents of her big basket do
not suffer, and she comes in looking as if
the long walk had only done her good,
and with, perhaps, a great bunch of roses
for her mistress, as a peace-offering for the
delay. The steward is the factotum in rich
families, and the cook in those of less pre-
tensions, and all transactions for housekeep-
ing are carried on through these two. It is
not considered "the thing" for an Italian
lady to go to market, and first-class servants
58
AT HOME IN ITALY.
are not very willing to take places where
they are denied their "privileges." We
foreigners, who do not choose to submit to
being taxed unawares, have made a law for
ourselves, and go at least occasionally, in
person, to inform ourselves of market prices,
and of what the market affords; and we
are rewarded by a greater variety and more
reasonable prices. As we pay higher wages
than the Italians, the servants endure it
from us as they would not from them. The
Italian servants are so persistently good-
humored and submissive, and so thoroughly
unconscious of the value of truth or time,
that there is very little use or satisfaction
in what we call a "good scolding." "The
signora is quite right," is the inevitable an-
swer to all reproofs; and the "Have pa-
tience with me, dear lady," which generally
follows next, is at first pathetic and after-
ward monotonous. But they are really at-
tached to the families they serve, and capa-
ble of untiring devotion in emergencies;
their faults being chiefly, as the French
charitably phrase it, "les défauts de leurs
qualités.'
To give an example: We had paid the
steward less than he asked (but a good
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
59
deal more than the fair price) for a trip to
the city in our behalf; the next morning
our milk, which he had supplied to us until
then quite to our satisfaction, was of a most
blue and melancholy tint. I sent it back
with a remonstrance, to which an imperti-
nent answer was returned. I then sent the
amount due for the few days' supply, with a
message that it was not necessary to send
any more. (Disagreeables are always ex-
pressed by a gentle negative in Italian deal-
ings.) This brought the desired crisis.
The steward himself appeared, full of apol-
ogies, saying that his brother and not him-
self was to blame; that it was true they
had an unfortunate cow who gave watery
milk, and, by mistake, the milk of that mis-
erable animal had been sent to us. But the
signora might be quite sure that such a mis-
take would never occur again; and it never
did. Similar experiments were tried by
the butcher, whom I told that it seemed to
me that the oxen in this neighborhood had
very large bones and very little meat on
them. "Ah, dear signora," said the hand-
some fellow, his face all smiles, "but you
know they must have bones or they could
not walk." I gently intimated to him that
60
AT HOME IN ITALY.
I would be glad if he would try to send me
roasts from small-boned animals whenever
possible, and he quite enjoyed his poor lit-
tle joke, and did better for me than if I had
accused him openly of cheating me.
The next thing was to quiet the fears of
our servants. They were city born and
bred, and none of them had ever been so
far from Florence as to the village of C▬▬▬▬▬▬
Indeed, great had been the consternation in
the kitchen department when our plan for
the summer was promulgated. The Italian
peasant hates changes of any sort, and has
not the slightest desire for exploration or
experiment. My servants were sure that
the signora did not know what she was un-
dertaking; that there would be nothing fit
to eat at C—, that the chimneys would
not draw, and the beds would be hard. In
short, there was a season of dismal prophe-
cies and gloomy faces. However, when an
Italian is brought to face the inevitable, he
accepts it with his special grace of patience;
and the signora being firm in her rash re-
solve, there was nothing to be done but to
exert themselves as much as possible to avert
the evil consequences of it, by redoubled
zeal in our service. I have said that the in-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
61
were
terior arrangements of Villa M
mysterious and labyrinthine. On the even-
ing of our arrival I heard some one roam-
ing at a late hour about the passages, and
on going to see who it was, I found my
cook with staring eyes, and an expression
of despair. "Oh, signora," she cried, "I
am so glad it is you! I can't find the stairs,
and I expected to meet a ghost. They say
there is one in the villa." She also had
discovered the oubliettes, and walked care-
fully for many days; confiding to me that
there were 66
a great many closets in which
if anybody should by chance get shut up,
she might scream all day and not be heard."
Evidently she thought all the doors were
furnished with spring-locks, like Ginevra's
chest. Gradually, however, her fears were
calmed, though I observed that whenever I
rang for a servant after nightfall, two al-
ways presented themselves. That great
central hall was but dimly lighted by the
small swinging lamp in the centre, and
shadows lurked in the corners, and doors
would start open in the wind. Who could
tell what spectres might be waiting round
the corners of dark passages? Clearly it
would not do to affront them alone.
62
AT HOME IN ITALY.
Having at length arranged domestic mat-
ters, we entered upon our summer's rest.
And truly a restful place it was. In the
mornings we read and studied and worked,
in delightful freedom from the interruptions
of city life. Two or three friends often
came to enliven our solitude; the central
hall did not disappoint us as to its capabili-
ties; in the hottest hours of the day it was
a never-failing refuge, and the divans were
always occupied at that time. In the twi-
light there were long walks through the
green lanes, in which sometimes the village
curé gave us his company, and told us local
histories and legends. I had forgotten to
say that there was a chapel in our villa;
and once or twice when we had friends with
us to whom such a service was agreeable,
there was mass there on Sunday mornings,
the curé officiating, and afterward break-
fasting with us. The ringing of the chapel
bell at Ave Maria, on the Saturday even-
ings was a signal that service would be held
there on the morrow, and it was a pleasing
sight to see the neighboring peasants in
their freshest toilets coming up the avenue
and the by-paths to the villa on the Sunday
morning, and kneeling in the vestibule out-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
63
side the chapel door, for the chapel itself
would not hold more than a dozen persons.
For the family and guests there was a pri-
vate stall at one side, much like a box at a
theatre. The curé was a liberal and genial
man of unusual intelligence for a country
priest, and not afraid to consort with her-
etics like ourselves. I suspect, however,
that the true secret of his liking for our
company was the opportunity it gave him
to improve in speaking English, as his great
ambition was to speak it well. He must
have studied some very remarkable gram-
mars, to judge from the phrases he was in
the habit of using. His invariable formula
of adieu to a lady was, "Good-by, my dear,"
which he supposed to be as good form as
66
Addio, cara signora." We were very
glad to contribute a little variety to his
hard-working and monotonous life; and his
courtesy added much to the pleasure of our
summer.
In the country one comes to feel a cu-
rious interest in all whom one sees daily.
Thus, in my walks in a certain direction I
used to meet an old Carthusian friar, about
whose history I spent many a moment in
speculating. He was either walking feebly
64
AT HOME IN ITALY.
with his eyes cast down and leaning heavily
on his stick or sitting by the way-side read-
ing his breviary. I always gave him a
“buon giorno” as I passed, which he ac-
knowledged by a grave inclination of the
head, without speaking. I asked the curé
about him, but he knew only that he was
ill, and believed to be a little out of his
mind, and had been sent to a convent in
the neighborhood, in the hope that change
of scene and country air might restore him.
A few weeks afterward I saw the black-
robed brethren of the Misericordia coming
down the hill with a burden, and the same
evening the curé told me that the friar had,
at his own earnest entreaty, been carried
back to die at his convent in Florence. If
the brethren of the C convent were all
C-
accustomed to vociferate like one of them
whom I saw beating a donkey which made
objections to carrying a stout brother, no
wonder that the silent stranger longed for
a more peaceful refuge in his last days.
There was a convent of nuns on the hill-
side just below our villa, and from our up-
per windows we could see what was passing
in its loggia and garden. It was an ancient
and rich convent, well endowed by private
1
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
65
T
means since the disestablishment of relig-
ious houses in Italy; and the nuns seemed
to enjoy life in their colorless way. One of
the elder nuns was feeble and spent much
of her time seated in an easy-chair in the
loggia, tenderly waited on by her compan-
ions, who read to her by turns, and brought
the ripest fruits and the prettiest plants
from the garden in which she could no
longer walk. Seeing how fond they all
were of flowers, I commissioned our gar-
dener to make a bouquet of his choicest
ones every week, and send it to the sick
nun in my name. The little attention was
kindly received; the sisters invited me to
visit the convent, showed me their work
and some fine old frescoes in the refectory,
and, having ascertained from the servants
that my birthday was at hand, they remem-
bered it with a basket of their delicate cake
and a pretty bit of embroidery.
The servants on an Italian estate are far
more identified with the family than else-
where. They partake in all its joys and
sorrows, and are treated with great familiar-
ity without ever losing a respectful bearing
toward their superiors. The readiness with
which those belonging to Villa M———
M-
5
66
AT HOME IN ITALY.
adopted us as their temporary padroni,
it is not so hard a title as masters and bet-
ter expresses the relation between employer
and employee in Italy, and their kindness
to our visitors, made them a source of daily
comfort to us. Of course, it was not with-
out some expectation of benefit on their
part; but to those accustomed to the highly
paid and unwillingly rendered service of
America, the gracious ways of the Italian
lower classes are surprisingly pleasant. The
truth is not in them, and it is in vain to ex-
pect it, though they are continually protest-
ing that they cannot tell a lie; their excuse,
when found out, being always that they did
not wish to "agitate" you by telling any-
thing disagreeable; and it is of no use to try
to impress upon them that truth is of value
for its own sake; all their education has
taught them the contrary. But once having
made up your mind not to require too much
on this point, and to believe only so far as
you can see, there is no more delightful at-
tendant than an Italian servant, whose de-
votion and self-denial in emergencies know
no limit.
The capo-contadino, or peasant in charge
of all outside the gardener's domain at Villa
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
67
M-, was a stout, good-looking fellow of
about thirty-five, named Giuseppe (which
was always shortened to Beppe). He lived
in a cottage adjoining the great house, with
his old mother and his five children, the
youngest a babe of a few months, at whose
birth his wife had died, and the eldest, An-
gelo, a boy of ten, the most mischievous ur-
chin I ever saw. There was no small wick-
edness that came amiss to him; he chased
the chickens, broke the cat's legs, and was
the terror of my pet dog. He was the tor-
ment of his grandmother's existence, and
nearly put an end to it by setting fire to the
flax as she was dozing one day, distaff in
hand.
Beppe was not at all a sentimental wid-
ower, but he was a good father, and his ра-
tience with the sickly, crying baby was really
touching. "Che vuole, signora?" he would
say, when I expressed my sympathy for his
cares, "the mother is old, and I must do the
best I can till I find somebody who knows
how to do better." I was rather shocked
at this plain allusion to his intention of mar-
rying again, but Beppe evidently thought it
a matter of course, and so did our servants,
to whom he laid bare more freely his domes-
68
AT HOME IN ITALY.
tic difficulties.
In fact, he found much con-
solation in our kitchen, if one could judge
by the peals of laughter issuing thence of an
evening. There was a fair in the village on
St. John's day, and Assunta, our pretty
maid, came home with a smart pair of ear-
rings which he had presented to her. I used
often to see her talking with Beppe's mother,
and fondling the baby; and I may as well
mention here the characteristic ending of
this humble flirtation. One day, just before
we left the villa, Assunta burst into my
room, wringing her hands, and crying: “Oh,
signora! what shall I do? They will kill
each other!" My first thought was natu-
rally for the children, but seeing that they
were all safe in the next room I at last man-
aged to understand that the trouble was be-
tween Beppe and a certain Pietro, a friend's
coachman in Florence. Pietro had heard
that Assunta was going to marry Beppe,
and as he considered her promised to him-
self, he had come to see about the affair,
and had threatened to kill Beppe.
"But," said I, "if it is true that you are
promessa sposa, why have you been encour-
aging poor Beppe, and allowing him to
waste his money in buying gifts for you?"
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
69
Assunta hung her head: "One must have
a little pleasure, dear signora, and Pietro
has not been to see me all summer.
give back the ear-rings to-night,
will, — only, dearest signora,"
her hands and crying afresh,
I'll
indeed I
clasping
"if you
would say a word to Pietro. He is so jeal-
ous."
"But if he is so jealous do you think he
will make a good husband?"
"Oh, si, signora! I could n't marry Bep-
pe, you know. He is nice enough, and I
like the children, but I could n't live in the
country."
So the signora saw Pietro, whose wrath
had somewhat cooled itself in threats; and
he consented to stay and smoke the pipe of
peace with Beppe, if the latter would prom-
ise not to flirt any more with Assunta. But
poor Beppe, it turned out, was really in love
with the pretty coquette, and when he found
how she had been playing with him, he de-
nounced her in such terms that Pietro was
ready to fight him this time in her defense.
Beppe spent no more evenings in the
kitchen; but his wounds were soon healed,
and at Christmas he came to bring us a bas-
ket of lemons, in company with a stout young
70
AT HOME IN ITALY.
woman, whom he introduced triumphantly
as his wife, and who looked able to cope
even with the vicious Angelo.
Another source of amusement to us was
the diligence which plies every half-hour
between Florence and the village of C
It is supposed to start at the hour and half-
hour, but, as usual here, there is a large
margin allowed for all sorts of happenings.
We hurry down the hill, thinking ourselves
late, and find the horses still munching their
hay, with no signs of a speedy departure.
We get in and wait five minutes before the
driver appears. Then the punctual member
of our family, who has an appointment in
the city at a fixed hour, exclaims, “Well,
then, let us be off now! It is ten minutes
past the time." Impossible, signore! it is
just the half-hour by my watch." Now as
no two watches or clocks made or repaired
by a Florentine were ever known to go reg-
ularly, it is a difficult question to say whose
watch is right. The driver disappears for
two or three minutes more, he is fortify-
ing himself for the drive by a tumbler of
wine, and he comes out of the door with
a long cigar in his mouth, which he proceeds
to light in the most leisurely manner.
66
-
He
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
71
1
then gets out his coat from under the box,
puts himself into it, and gives a glance up
the road to see if any one is in sight. If so,
he waits till the comers are near enough for
him to inquire whether they wish to go to
Florence. By this time the punctual man's
patience is beginning to get low. "If you
don't get us to Porta alla Croce at the
proper time, I won't give you any cigar
money. Come, start, will you?" "Directly,
directly, signore." Antonio takes the reins
and chirrups to the horses, who understand
the matter, and go three or four steps and
then stop. Antonio darts into the shop
again after some package for which he had
been really waiting all this time. We re-
sign ourselves, and the punctual man buries
his sorrows in a newspaper. However, we
are off at last at a brisk pace, which is kept
up all the way to Florence, and we are de-
posited at the Porta alla Croce not more
than fifteen minutes behind time, after all.
Antonio does not get his cigar money, of
course, but he is so grieved over the delay
that the signora slips an extra sou into his
hand while paying her fare (which is only
five sous), and makes him her devoted ad-
mirer. I must here say in praise of the Ital-
72
AT HOME IN ITALY.
ian laboring classes, that they are most re-
spectful and courteous in their behavior, and
cleanly in their persons, so that the frequent
encounters with them in the diligence are
never unpleasant, even to a lady alone. On
the contrary, they are most anxious to avoid
giving inconvenience, and will ride outside
even when the diligence is not full, rather
than appear to crowd the ladies inside, and
freely give up the use of their pipes.
The crowning festival of our villeggiatura
was, of course, the vintage. For weeks we
had been watching the purpling grapes, and
looking with apprehension at every cloud
that arose, lest it should send down hail
upon the ripening fruit. At last the day
of vintage came, and it was a fête for all.
We spent hours in walking through the rows
of vines with the Marchese M, who
had come up to superintend the grape-pick-
ing, and who gave us permission to help our-
selves as liberally as we wished to the deli-
cious fruit. The children were crowned
with wreaths of vine leaves by the peasants,
and with their hands full of grapes they
looked like true votaries of Bacchus.
field resounded with merriment; the vin-
tage was so abundant that the hearts of rich
The
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
73
and poor in the Arno valley were made
glad;—and in the evening there was a dance
on the lawn to the music of the village band.
I have given but an imperfect picture of
our life at Villa M It was a quiet
life and our pleasures were of the simplest;
we entered for the time being into the spirit.
of the place, and enjoyed as heartily our in-
expensive rustic entertainments as we ever
did the most elaborate ones of city life. We
lingered in our country paradise till the
frosts of November touched it, and the chest-
nut leaves made a golden carpet on the lawn.
Even then we left it with regret, but with a
store of pleasant memories for winter days;
with a sense of having got a truer insight
into Italian life than ever before; and with
certain longings, which may one day be real-
ized, to have such a paradise of our very
own.
III.
The coming back to Florence after our
summer wanderings is always one of the
pleasantest experiences of the year. I do
not quite know what it is that attaches so
strongly every one who makes the City of
!
74
AT HOME IN ITALY.
Lilies his home; so that it seems to him as
if he had a right to love her and be proud
of her, like her own children. Her lovely
situation, and the great variety of landscape
which the city commands, has no doubt as
much to do with this charm as the historic
and artistic treasures of which she is full.
Florence lies as at the bottom of a cup;
Winter looks over the edge and whitens all
the rim, but seldom dares to send his snow-
flakes to the bottom.
The glory of the autumn woods is indeed
lacking in Italy; but we usually have some
days of that blue haze and brooding warmth
which make the Indian summer in Amer-
ica; and through this haze the snow-capped
mountains about Florence are beautiful as
a dream. They soon send us down, how-
ever, winds which dispel the mists, and
bring us a crisp, New England air; these
tramontana winds are the salvation of Flor-
ence and the delight of us New England-
ers, but a terror to the English and Ital-
ians, who love a milder and more relaxing
air. The rain-wind is less pleasant; three
days of the scirocco will take away every
vestige of snow from the hills; even from
Monte Falterona, the highest point be-
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
75
tween the Mediterranean and the Adriatic.
Dante says:
"As snow that lies
Amidst the living rafters, on the back
Of Italy, congealed when drifted high
And closely piled by rough Sclavonian blasts;
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,
And straightway melting it distills away
Like a fire-wasted taper."
This desert wind is more powerful, in its in-
sidious softness, than the blustering tramon-
tana in its rage. It makes the pavements
and houses as wet as if it had rained; it ob-
scures the varnish even on the furniture, it
turns silver yellow as if a sulphurous breath
had passed over it; it penetrates to the
very bones, making one thoroughly limp and
miserable. It is too warm to have fires, and
too damp to do without them. The clouds
hang low; the light is so dim that it is of
no use to endeavor to forget these dismal
days in galleries or churches, for nothing
can be distinctly seen. Everybody takes a
discouraging view of affairs; it is almost as
bad as a London November. But by and
by will come a change; "the north wind
will drive away rain," and we shall once
more lift up our heads, and feel the weight
of cares and winter clothing lightened at
76
AT HOME IN ITALY.
the same moment. Nature wakes from her
short winter sleep almost at the coming in
of the new year. The farmers plow and
sow in January-the hedge roses prepare
to blossom, and the leaf-buds on the trees
begin to swell. Winter is not beautiful
here, as in the lands of snow; that is, it has
no beauty of its own; it is simply the with-
drawal of summer, an interregnum ;-
there is no rival claimant to Nature's throne.
Whether the absence of sharp contrasts in
the seasons heightens or diminishes pleasure
depends, I suppose, mainly or altogether
upon individual temperaments. To many,
the comparative monotony of the Italian
climate is soothing to mind as well as body,
after the shocks and crises of that of Amer-
ica; to others, the lack of variety is never
compensated by tropical verdure or the
mildest air.
The first two days of November, dedicated
to All Saints and All Souls, when nature
itself inclines us to retrospect and regret,
are kept here with due observance. For
days beforehand, the flower shops overflow
with funereal wreaths (there are even shops
devoted to the manufacture of such things
in porcelain and zinc), and one may choose
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
77
a garland of roses, or a wreath of yellow
immortelles, or a structure of black and
white bead flowers, or of iron leaves with
inscriptions ad libitum.
It is one of the sights of Florence, the
grand cemetery of San Miniato on All Souls'
Day. There is a jostling crowd, with police-
men to keep order, and they are not unfre-
quently busy; the marble slabs with which
the cemetery is paved are covered with
wreaths, so as to be hardly visible; on
every cross and in every niche hang offer-
ings to the memory of the departed; it is no
place to weep or to remember, but the ful-
filling of a ceremony, and perhaps a vow.
The sunset over the Carrara Mountains red-
dens the façade of the old church, and Flor-
ence is beautiful down below in a golden
mist; but one must "move on;" there is
no time for observation, much less for reflec-
tion. It is better to go there alone, another
day. To get the real sense of the occasion
one must go to Trespiano, the burial-place
of the poor, on a hill three long miles north
of the city. We went there on a lovely day
which seemed to belong to summer rather
than autumn. We passed out of Porta San
Gallo, and ascended by the Via Bolognese,
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
with the hill of Fiesole hanging above us at
the right. Ruskin has given a perfect pic-
ture of the way. It takes us "continually
beneath the walls of villas bright in perfect
luxury, and beside cypress hedges inclosing
fair terraced gardens, . . . the far away
bends of the Arno, beneath the slopes of
olive, and the purple peaks of the Carrara
Mountains tossing themselves against the
western distance where the streaks of mo-
tionless cloud burn above the Pisan sea.
The traveler passes the Fiesolan ridge, and
all is changed. The country is on a sudden
lonely. Here and there, indeed, are seen the
scattered houses of a farm grouped grace-
fully upon the hillsides, here and there a
fragment of tower upon a distant rock; but
neither gardens nor flowers nor glittering
palace walls, only a gray extent of moun-
tain ground tufted irregularly with ilex and
olive; a scene not sublime, for its forms are
subdued and low; not desolate, for its val-
leys are full of sown fields and tended pas-
tures; not rich nor lovely, but sunburnt and
sorrowful, becoming wilder every instant as
the road winds into its recesses, ascending
still."
There are melancholy associations also
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
79
with this road. One cannot but remember
Eleanor of Toledo, the unhappy wife of
Pietro dei Medici, who, being accused of in-
fidelity to her husband, was commanded to
come to him at his lonely hunting-seat of
Caffagiolo. Presaging the import of the
summons, she begged to see her infant son
once more before she left Florence, and, em-
bracing him with tears and sobs, she took a
final leave of him, and set out on her sor-
rowful journey. The contrast of the bloom-
ing Arno valley she was leaving with the
stern country before her must have struck
even upon her strained apprehension, as a
symbol of life and love forever left behind.
Evening was falling when she arrived at
the dreary castle, and was at once conducted
to her husband's presence. His greeting
was a fatal stab; she fell at his feet, implor-
ing that mercy from God which man re-
fused. Her body was hastily put into a,
coffin and carried back to Florence, where
it was secretly buried that same midnight
in the church of San Lorenzo.
Up these weary miles, too, toils every
night the dead cart from Florence, arriving
towards morning at Trespiano. A few
friends follow it, on foot generally, and
८
80
AT HOME IN ITALY.
often in the teeth of the sharp tramontana
wind, which makes it a via dolorosa to the
body as to the soul. The arrangements at
the cemetery are as kind and humane as is.
consistent with the great number of pauper
burials which take place there. There are
three classes of interments: one part of the
ground is allotted, as in other cemeteries, to
those who are able to buy a lot and pay for
the care of it—the price being considerably
less than at San Miniato; the second class
is simply a place reserved, at a still smaller
price, for one coffin, with the promise that
it shall not be disturbed to make room for
another. This is the most interesting part
of the ground, and many a sacrifice has
been made to erect a simple monument over
these closely packed graves, the greater part
being marked only by a wooden cross or slab
with homely and touching inscriptions. The
third part of the space, and by far the
largest, is reserved for those who are too
poor to claim any privileges, and who are
buried in graves or pits already often ten-
anted. These pits are opened once in ten
years and their contents removed to make
way for new occupants. The cemetery
slopes to the west, with a rushing stream at
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
81
its foot; it looks off upon the gray, desolate
country I have spoken of; it is ever wind-
swept and melancholy; even the sunlight is
sad upon the cypresses which are its only
adornment. But on this 2d of November
the soft haze veiled the rugged outlines of
the hills, and softened the cold tints of the
landscape.
It was nearly noon when we reached the
cemetery, and all the way up from Florence
we had passed groups of men, women, and
children, all carrying garlands, so that it
seemed at a distance like a procession going
out to meet a conqueror. But it was not a
gay throng, though hardly a sorrowful one
in appearance; the joyous native tempera-
ment was only veiled, like the day. Once
arrived at the spot they were seeking, there
were passionate outbursts of grief, with that
utter carelessness of spectators, that una-
shamed frankness of emotion which also is
a characteristic of the race. The ground
was dotted with kneeling figures reciting
the prayers for the dead, — very few in som-
bre raiment, for outward luxury of woe is
denied to poverty. Flowers of the humblest
kind, wreaths of immortelles, beads, or iron-
work adorned the graves; candles stuck in
6
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
the ground were burning at the head and
foot of the mounds, and here and there a
lamp or lantern. It was a scene for a
painter, the soft gray sky, the distant golden
valley, the dark cypresses and white mar-
bles, the gay kerchiefs of the women and
their picturesque attitudes. Outside the
cemetery the scene was less solemn. Booths
of all sorts were erected and noisy venders
were crying their chestnuts and cakes. Here
and there family parties who had brought
or bought their eatables were making their
little picnic meal after their visit to the
graves, - basking in the sunshine and their
thoughts evidently turning back to life and
its interests with instinctive recoil from sor-
row. Later on, there will be a less agreea-
ble phase of this, when much wine has been
drunk, and the fatigues of the day begin to
tell, and on the way back to Florence there
will be disputing and noise and perhaps a
fight, if anybody should drive too fast down
the hill amidst the crowd on foot.
From Trespiano we went on seven miles
farther to visit the convent of Monte Sena-
rio, on the top of a hill 2,500 feet above the
Val d'Arno. This peak looks over the shoul-
der of Fiesole, and though distant only ten
ITALY AS A RESIDence.
83
miles from Florence it is a four hours' drive
thence, the way being always up hill, and
in some parts very steep. The road passes
Pratolino, the seat of the Demidoffs, whose
park and its gigantic statue of " Appenino"
by John of Bologna merit more than a hasty
glance; but the days are growing short and
we are anxious to return to Florence before
nightfall. So we toil up, through woods
and over barren reaches of stony land, till
the gray convent with its high square bell-
tower seems to be close above our heads.
The carriage can go no farther, and we get
out at the convent farm and ask for a sledge
for those of our party who do not wish to
make the last steep ascent on foot. After
a good deal of delay and bargaining, the
sledge and its pair of white oxen are ready;
we get in and are dragged over stones and
mud to the plateau on which the convent
stands. We women are not admitted to the
building proper, of course, but there is for-
tunately a wing which our presence will not
profane, and where we deposit our wraps
and order eggs and wine to supplement the
provisions we have brought with us, and
gain the good - will of the convent cook.
While he is laying the table we go out to
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
see the view. Happily the mists have lifted,
and we distinctly see Florence and the Du-
omo and San Miniato, while Fiesole from a
mountain has sunk to a hillock. We can
trace the Arno's course toward Pisa, and
the Vallombrosan hills rise grandly at the
east. But the finest view is toward the
north. At our feet lie outspread the fertile
plains of the Mugello, with their green pas-
tures and frequent villages, each with a bell-
tower in the midst. Beyond, the summits
of the central Apennines rise dark and high,
where they divide Tuscany from the prov-
ince of Emilia. We are in the midst of
hemlock woods, and the flowers of autumn,
the purple crocus and the dandelion, are
blooming all above us. In the spring these
woods are blue with forget-me-nots; and
they are rich in delicate ferns.
While we are still admiring the view, a
lay-brother comes to tell us that the eggs
are cooked, "at our convenience," as the
phrase goes; and we tear ourselves away;
wishing we had thought to spread our lunch
al fresco. But the lay-brother proves enter-
taining. He tells us of the origin of the
convent; how seven holy men of Florence
in the thirteenth century were moved to
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
85
come out from the temptations to vain-glory
which the reverence of their fellow-citizens
afforded, to a life of solitude and mortifica-
tion, and how the Blessed Virgin revealed
to them that this mountain should be their
home. Very fortunately it had just been
left as part of a legacy to their bishop, and
as it was a cold and sterile region and full
of wild beasts, he did not know what to do
with it, so that this celestial indication was
opportune. The holy men lived at first in
caves or grottoes, some of which are now
turned into chapels, but they soon had a
convent building, and increased the fame of
their sanctity by repeated appearances of
their protectress, who at one time ordered
them to take the robe and rule of the Au-
gustines, and caused their vines to blossom
and bear fruit in winter time, as a special
signal of her favor. After the death of the
original seven, the rigor of the observance
relaxed, but the convent was a rich and
prosperous one until its disestablishment.
There are now only eight or ten monks re-
maining there; the place looks cold and de-
serted, and its treasures have been carried
off. Our host did not seem particularly
fond of the place; it was very lonely, he
86
AT HOME IN ITALY.
said, and he had not been used to living in
such a climate. He did not look as if he
had suffered, however; or as if his mortifi-
cations were severe, and he accepted with
alacrity a glass of something better than his
sour wine.
The gentlemen were conducted over the
convent, but soon came out to where we
were seated under the fir-trees, reporting
that we had nothing to regret in being de-
nied entrance. We lingered till the sun
was getting low and warned us that we
must be on our homeward way, if we would
not be overtaken by nightfall in the narrow
mountain roads. As it was, the sun had
long set when we re-passed Trespiano,
the booths were gone, the last visitors had
departed; the great cemetery lay silent,
with the white crosses and garlands gleam-
ing in the twilight.
As the colony of foreigners, English and
Americans, reassembles in Florence, the
greetings are hearty between old acquaint-
ances, and the new-comers are welcomed as
new links between us and the home lands.
Social life in a foreign city is of course
widely different from that at home as to
permanence; we are continually missing
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
87
old acquaintances and making new ones; he
who has a dread of meeting strangers should
never take up his residence abroad. The
hearing three or four different languages
spoken in every social reunion; the neces-
sity of remembering the affinities of persons
of different nationalities, and avoiding dan-
gerous ground on political or religious ques-
tions, especially in these threatening times;
the curious discussions which sometimes
spring up, and the really valuable insight
which may be gained as to national traits
of character; the skill with which those
long accustomed to such navigation steer the
bark of conversation in these difficult wa-
ters; all these things give a piquancy and
variety to social intercourse.
Here I may say a word in regard to the
accusation which Mr. Henry James has
brought against Americans abroad: that
they are "self-conscious" and "addicted to
a belief that the other nations of the world
are in a conspiracy to undervalue them."
"It is in England," he says, "that their
habit of looking askance at foreign institu-
tions- of keeping one eye, as it were, on
the American personality, while with the
other they contemplate these objects — is
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
most to be observed." I doubt if Mr. James
ever observed it at all on the continent,
except in encounters between English and
Americans. Once across the channel, the
whole social fabric is so different from any-
thing possible in America, that the Amer-
ican ceases to be searching out family re-
semblances and differences, or to be dis-
appointed at the coolness of his reception.
And in general he finds it pleasanter to be
considered a stranger rather than a very
far-removed and not over-welcome cousin.
In England, and with Englishmen every-
where, the American is daily and hourly
put upon the defensive; if he grows to ex-
aggerate the good qualities of his native land
under this continual system of attack, what
wonder? It is difficult to keep a middle
ground between such exaggeration and the
opposite extreme of which Mr. James is the
most conspicuous representative; to be just
to the merits of other countries and the
faults of your own, and, above all, to avoid
that over-sensitiveness to blame which one
is always ready to feel in regard to absent
friends and a distant home. Mr. James
does not suffer from this "thin-skinned'
sensitiveness, because he is not troubled
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
89
with any impedimenta in the shape of affec-
tions. To him the Fourth of July is merely
"the day on which, of all days in the year,
the great republic has her acutest fit of self-
consciousness." He has not a "miasmatic
conscience" perhaps, but he has an asphyx-
iated heart. No wonder that the New Eng-
land air is too "cold and thin" for his
breathing.
It is to Americans abroad that Mr.
James's persistent disparagement of any-
thing American gives most annoyance.
When asked if his statements are correct,
even the mildest intimation that things are
not quite so bad with us as he would have
his foreign readers believe is met by a more
or less politely signified assertion that natu-
rally we are prejudiced against him, and any
outbreak of honest indignation is of course
worse than useless. It is not too much to
say that he has greatly retarded any true
knowledge and appreciation of America on
the part of English people, and thereby im-
peded the establishment of those cordial re-
lations which right-minded English people,
as well as their American cousins, sincerely
wish to see established. I have spoken of
the American in English society as being
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
continually exposed to attack on subjects
connected with his nationality; but I fear
that the word attack is a misleading one,
as supposing active hostility, which is not
often the case. Most of the inquiries and
remarks about our institutions and customs,
though they may be in very questionable
taste as to their style, are put simply and
without an intention of offense by the
Briton, who wishes to "say something" to
the stranger, and whose knowledge of Amer-
ica is small. Our national pride is often
needlessly wounded by Englishmen's igno-
rance of the country; we should remember
that there is no such obligation on their part
to be familiar with our history as for us to
be familiar with theirs; and it is a pity that
practically this is so little recognized by
Americans. But it is a greater pity that
some expatriated Americans, instead of pa-
tiently accepting opportunities, however
awkwardly presented, for awakening respect
and interest in their country, choose, with
Mr. James, to sneer at and ridicule her foi-
bles and youthful disadvantages. The only
thing, I suppose, for those of us abroad and
for those at home, is to bear with what pa-
tience we may these wounds in the house of
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
91
our friends, comforting ourselves with the
thought that after all deductions made, in
regard to American life, a good deal remains,
as Mr. James admits, a good deal more,
possibly, than he perceives.
Religion and politics are so mixed in Italy,
and both are so intertwined with social
questions, that it is impossible to refrain
altogether from their discussion. Even
between Italians, or Italianized English or
Americans, it soon transpires in a salon who
is conservative and who is liberal. The
former lose no opportunity of satirizing
the government; they lament the sufferings
of the Pope, the "desecration" of the Quir-
inal, and the departed glories of Holy Week.
The liberals hear, with indignation hard to
restrain, any sneers at their beloved "Re
Galantuomo," and those signs of progress
which have been won through such sacri-
fices and years of waiting; they mistrust
the priests, even though they are reputed
to be liberal, and do not talk freely with
them. Aspettiamo is their motto, and
I fear it is likely to be for some time to
Meanwhile, as in Germany, the
great danger is that the rising generation,
dissatisfied with the present state of things
come.
66
""
92
AT HOME IN ITALY.
in the Roman Catholic Church, both as re-
gards civil and religious liberty, and not yet
being sure of the right path as to reform,
will lapse into unbelief. The efforts of for-
eigners and Protestants in Italy have been
often more according to zeal than knowl-
edge; conducted on very much the same
plan that would have been adopted among
the Hottentots or Karens. A little more
of St. Paul's courtesy and adaptability to
circumstances might have produced very
different results. The "Christian Union"
well expressed this, some years ago, in the
following paragraph: "Italy is like an es-
tate where the game has been carefully pre-
served from poachers, but which has sud-
denly been thrown open to everybody who
carries a gun. In they have rushed, all the
sects of England and America, tumbling
over one another, blazing away with prodi-
gious energy, but hardly bringing down
game enough to pay for the powder and shot.
We would not speak lightly of the work of
good men. But the Italians seem of all
people the most inaccessible to foreign pros-
elyting. Their religion, whatever shape it
takes, will be their own, and not a neat copy
of an English or American pattern."
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
93
One of the most judicious and competent
of American observers, qualified by long res-
idence in Italy, and intimate acquaintance
with the Italians, Rev. Dr. William Chaun-
cey Langdon, has thus expressed his views
on the same point: "It is evident that the
Italian people are no fitting subjects to be
taken in training by foreigners, of whatever
nation, or in respect to their religious faith
any more than in art, in science, or in poli-
tics. They have not forgotten that Italy
has been the source and fountain of thought
and learning and influence; that she has
been the lawgiver and guide of the nations
in almost every department of intellectual
activity and energy; and they are not un-
worthy of their history or of their ancestry.
Oppressed Italy has been down-trodden and
crushed, but she has risen again as, perhaps,
no other people ever rose out of such depths
of political and social degradation, and her
great risorgimento is the marvel of modern
history. ... But yet the Italians, however
jealous, in their new independence and reviv-
ing political life, of foreign interference or in-
trusion, and however little disposed to accept,
of all things, a new religious system at for-
eign hands, are, at the same time, most ready
94
AT HOME IN ITALY.
to study foreign institutions and customs,
and to give a calm and unprejudiced consid-
eration to every phase of thought, to weigh
every argument which may have its bear-
ings upon any question of practical interest
to themselves, and which may come under
their notice; nay, they will scan the polit-
ical, ecclesiastical, social horizon, for mate-
rials for study and, possibly, for application.
No characteristic of Italian public men and
of the Italian press has more forcibly im-
pressed me than the combination of indiffer-
ence to the opinions, criticisms, and counsels
of foreigners, as such, with a readiness to
weigh counsel, strictures, criticism, and opin-
ions of all sorts, no matter from whence
they come, for their own sake simply."
Rev. Dr. Langdon, who was sent out in
1866 by the "Italian Church Reformation
Commission" of the American Episcopal
Church, fulfilled his mission for seven years
in the truly liberal and Christian spirit
which the above extract from one of his re-
ports evinces. "I made no attempt," he
says, "to introduce or colonize our Amer-
ican church among the Italian people. I
made no attempt to gather or organize con-
gregations upon our principles; nor did I
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
95
1
seek to persuade any one else to do this,
nor even to detach himself from or leave his
church. I neither claimed for my church,
nor did I assume for myself, the right to
teach Italians; nor did I propose to them
to accept our doctrines, system, practice,
instead of their own. Nay, I did not even
seek to secure to the church or to myself
any special credit or connection with any in-
fluence which I might be instrumental in ex-
erting. The truth of history, the power of
catholic thought, the solving agency of sound
catholic principles, -they alone, by their
own inherent value, their own divine might,
must do the work. My duty, therefore,
was, in the most modest and unobtrusive
manner possible, to do what I could to as-
sist the circulation of such truths, of such
thought, of such principles; in a word, to
fulfill judiciously the office of a good con-
ductor for the electric currents of catholic
thought and truth." Such a work as this
of Dr. Langdon's may not show results on
paper to satisfy sectarian zealots, but from
personal knowledge I can testify to his great
usefulness here, and the regret which his
departure occasioned to the liberal Catholics
in Italy. But as to the best part of what
96
AT HOME IN ITALY.
he has done it cannot from its very nature
be fully known until "the day shall declare
it."
I am often asked, "What is the present
position of the Catholic reform movement
in Italy?" It is difficult to frame a reply
which shall at all satisfy those who are im-
patient for results, and at the same time do
justice to the spirit of inquiry which per-
vaded the Italian people.
There is one quality of the Italian mind
which it is especially difficult for an Amer-
ican to appreciate. It is what Dr. Langdon
characterizes as 66 a keen and delicate sense of
opportunities, and a genius for waiting." I
am aware that this is not our common idea
of the race, but I believe it to be the true
one. If it be true, it will explain many
things that otherwise may seem contradic-
tory. Apparent indolence under tyranny,
civil and ecclesiastic, may but be a waiting
for the necessary conditions of success, and
apparent impulsiveness may be only the per-
ception, sharpened by watching, that these
conditions have been fulfilled. In the former
of these two states the Italian reform move-
ment now rests. The initiatory stage has
passed; the early leaders of the movement
ITALY AS A RESIDENCE.
97
have either passed away to the perfect world,
or, having no root in themselves, have been
prostrated by the blast of ecclesiastical cen-
sure.
The Reformed Church, however, is
not dormant; it is only quiescent. Here
and there a significant motion - the election
of a parish priest by the people, in defiance
of papal authority; the publication of a
pamphlet a speech in Parliament - indi-
cates its watchfulness. The time of waiting
may be long, but the reaction and revival
will be proportionately great when it comes.
As to the privileges which we Protestants
enjoy in Italy, a few words may be reassur-
ing to our friends at home. What with the
English Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel, and private liberality at home and
abroad, we are not at all destitute of relig-
ious "privileges." Now that religious tol-
eration has been assured by government,
churches and charitable institutions of other
than the Roman Catholic denomination are
no longer relegated without the walls of the
cities, and can hold property and perform
religious services at their pleasure. The
American Episcopal church at Rome is the
result of this beneficent toleration. In Flor-
ence, besides the free Italian Protestant, and
7
98
AT HOME IN ITALY.
the Waldensian, French, and German con-
gregations, there are places of worship where
services in English are held under the care
of the Scotch Presbyterian, the American
Episcopal, and the English Established
churches; and also a Union American
church on the Congregational system. Un-
der the patronage of these churches are
various schools and asylums, as well as a
missionary society which cares mainly for
English and Americans in needy circum-
stances. There are weekly prayer-meetings,
Sunday-schools, and all the various acces-
sories of home religious life. As yet these
congregations meet in rooms hired for the
purpose; the seats are free, the singing vol-
untary, the pastor's work poorly compen-
sated in money; but these churches are
true Sabbath homes to many travelers, and
are remembered with pleasure in their wan-
derings.
A.
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
I.
IN many of the more ancient Italian cit-
ies, and most of all in Rome, we are contin-
ually irritated, by contrasts. We pass in a
moment from all that is noble in what is old
to all that is trivial in what is new, making
incessant effort to attune ourselves to our
surroundings. The worst of it is we are
often attacked by a painful suspicion that
the occasional involuntary relief we expe-
rience, on releasing our attention from the
great demands of antiquity upon it, is a sign
that we ourselves may partake of the cheap-
ness and gaudiness of modern times; we
feel shrunken, disheartened, humiliated;
one life seems but a trivial thing beside these
forms which have watched the passing of
thousands of generations; we are like but-
terflies beating against a tomb. Whether
one gathers the wild flowers in the clefts of
the Coliseum, or lies gazing at the Alps
Uor M
[
100
AT HOME IN ITALY.
from the amphitheatre at Verona, or sees
the relics of a greater city unearthed be-
neath the feet of the living at Bologna, mel-
ancholy — passive and tender, indeed, but
still melancholy is and must be the pre-
dominant tone of feeling. So it is in Venice,
in Pisa, in Ravenna, in a hundred other
places; and it has its charm. I know of
only one city in Italy where, instead of being
placed in antagonism to the past, one seems
assimilated with it. The reason of this I
find to be the entire harmony of the sur-
roundings, which altogether exclude the idea
of newness, while they yet make no painful
suggestions of decay. Not only do the build-
ings preserve the old traditions in great
measure, but even the ancient inhabitants
of Siena do not seem entirely to have passed
away. They appear to have undergone a
perpetual metempsychosis, which has pre-
served much of the old trick of thought and
speech and gesture, and they are not in the
least out of harmony with the old palaces
they inhabit. If they are obliged to con-
struct new habitations, they do it in the an-
tique fashion so far as possible, and manage
these "restorations" with a reverent touch,
in which there is no trace of personal vanity.
MU
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
101
Therefore, at Siena one is content and tran-
quil as well as awed and interested. Is there
a subtile flattery in these old buildings which
open their doors to us, as if we were not un-
| worthy of their fame, instead of relegating
us to some newly built hotel in the "stran-
gers' quarter"? Certainly, as we sit on a
balcony overlooking the Piazza del Campo
on the day of the great races, when all the
ancient bravery of battle array comes forth,
-the carroccio, the men full clad in armor,
the medieval costumes of the pages, the
gayly-caparisoned horses, the tapestried win-
dows, — it is difficult to persuade ourselves
that we are in and of the nineteenth cen-
tury.
Nor does the past seem far away or strange
to the Sienese of the present day. However
tame and monotonous may be the actual life
in so small a city, Siena never forgets the
dignity and activity which has once been
hers. From the thirteenth century onwards,
nothing has faded out of her memory. Even
in the middle of this century, at the time
when Florence became the capital of Italy,
and delegations from all parts of the coun-
try were hastening thither, it was difficult,
says Mr. Trollope, to persuade the Sienese
4
1
:
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
that they would be well received; and when
the reason was finally arrived at, it was
found to be a fear that the Florentines still
bore them a grudge on account of the dis-
astrous defeat of the Florentine army at
Monte Aperto, in 1260!
This battle is indeed an epoch in Siena's
history; for the great victory over the
Guelph party allowed the city a period of
repose, in which it grew and prospered, and
which was its golden age. Familiar as the
story is, I never return to Siena without feel-
ing a fresh interest in it. As I pass through
the Piazza Tolomei, I seem to see the elders
of the city and the populace assembled
there on that September morning, when the
haughty message is received from the be-
sieging army spread out on the plains be-
low: "Make breaches in your walls, so that
we can enter at our will." I hear Bandi-
nelli's wily insinuations that it might be bet-
ter to comply with the demand; and then
the indignant retort of Provenzano Salvani,
whose indomitable firmness overcomes hes-
itation, and makes treachery slink away.
A dictator for the time being is chosen, and
the great banker Salimbeni promptly offers
a loan of 18,000 florins, to quicken the zeal
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
103
The
of the German mercenaries by double pay.
The new dictator, Bonaguida Lucari, now
comes forward and addresses the people:
"It seems to me fitting at this juncture that
we should devote our persons and our wealth,
our city and our district, with all that we
have, to the Virgin Mary." He bares his
head and his feet, and lays aside his robes,
and in his tunic, with a rope around his
neck and the keys of the city in his hand, he
heads a procession of the citizens, all bare-
foot like himself, to the cathedral.
venerable archbishop meets him at the
threshold, and embraces him with tears.
There is weeping and embracing throughout
the great building, with the reconciliation
and oblivion of long-existing feuds, as Bon-
aguida advances to the high altar, and,
kneeling before the statue of the Virgin, sol-
emnly dedicates the city and its inhabitants
to the "most pitiful mother, the counselor
and helper of the distressed.” But there
was work as well as prayer. All night the
city was astir; "old men, women, and chil-
dren aided in preparing armor; " and at day-
break the long procession filed out of Porta
Pispini (then San Viene), with the great
battle-car in the midst. Not an able-bodied
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
man was left in Siena that day. Those who
could not fight crowded to the Duomo to
pray, while from time to time the sentinels.
on the Marescotti 1 tower gave notice of the
varying fortunes of the battle: "Pray for
our army, for it seems to waver;" and again,
"Now it is the enemy that is in flight;"
until towards sunset comes the joyful notice
from the trumpeter, "sounding from his
tower the signal of victory," that the Flor-
entine standards are prostrate, and their
forces in confusion. Through the same gate,
the next day, came back the conquering
army, preceded by the messenger who had
brought the insolent summons riding on an
ass, with his face towards the ass's tail, and
his hands bound behind him; the proud
banner of Florence trailing in the dust.
Again to the Duomo, this time with psalms
of thanksgiving; and it was ordered that
"every citizen over sixteen years old should
offer a wax candle at the cathedral on As-
sumption Day," and that to the inscription
"Sena Vetus " on the coins should be added,
"Civitas Virginis."
An uncle of Dante, Brunetto Bellincioni,
was in the Guelphic army, and it is not im-
1 Now Palazzo Saraceni.
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
105
possible, as a recent writer remarks, that
from his lips the poet may, when a child,
have heard the story of that woeful day.
Wandering, in later years, by the little
stream, whose banks were thickly sown with
the bones of his kindred, his wrath burned
hot against Siena, and imbittered every men-
tion of her race in his great poem.
Now began a period of prosperity and lux-
ury unequaled in Siena's earlier or later an-
nals. This was the time of the "Brigata
Godereccia," or twelve young gentlemen,
who undertook "to do things that would
make the world wonder;" they succeeded
so well that they have been a laughing-stock
ever since. They spent all their money in
less than two years, by means of feasting,
and throwing the dishes of gold and silver
out of the windows after every banquet.
But there were many nobler uses of this
prosperity: money was freely lavished on
art and architecture; the building of the
Duomo was continued on a greatly enlarged
scale, and its bewilderingly rich façade was
begun. The population of the city had in-
creased to two hundred thousand at the time
when the plague broke out, in 1348, and
brought desolation and almost ruin to the
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
city. Some historians say that it carried
off nine tenths of the people; others, that
only fifteen thousand were left alive. From
this blow Siena never entirely recovered.
The broken arches of the unfinished faccia-
tone of the Duomo bear witness still to the
calamity. The cathedral no longer needed
to be of such vast proportions for the dimin-
ished congregation. But the spirit of the
Sienese was not broken. Wars and sieges
were still before them, and to a period of
luxury succeeded one of stern and almost
savage temper, in which even the amuse-
ments of the people partook of the barba-
rian quality of the times. The favorite
guioco delle pugna, or boxing game, was
often prohibited by the authorities, and
again permitted by popular desire. On the
last Sunday of the Carnival, two great tents
were erected in the Piazza del Campo, and
whoever was disposed to take part in the
game repaired thither. The contestants
were under the direction of two captains,
and marched to combat to the sound of trum-
pets and amid a crowd of excited spectators.
The effects of the fray are thus described by
Sermini, in one of his novelle: "There are
at least two hundred, who, for a month to
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
107
come, will not be able to earn their bread,
by reason of their hurts. This one has a
hand lamed, another an arm, another his
jaw broken, or his shoulder dislocated, or
his ribs fractured; here is a fellow quite
used up and half dead. This one has lost
his cloak, and that one his jacket, and
another his cap, and they will have to wait
long enough for new ones.
• Where is your
brother?' He has been assisted home.'
'And are not you going too?' No; I must
stay here for the present, though I know
very well that I can't eat my supper to-night,
on account of my smashed jaws.' And I
can hardly speak, my ribs are so doubled
up.' 'Ah, but I have two teeth less for to-
day's fight.' And your neighbor, who was
carried home, how is he?' To-morrow
we shall see, but I fear we shall have to bury
him. By reason of this fight, six or more
fellows will be dead before Easter. But you
know how it is: if some die, others are al-
ways being born. However, for my part, I
think that the lookers-on have the best of
it.'"
6
From novelists such as Sermini, Sozzini,
Bargagli, and Ilicini, we get most curious
pictures of the manners and customs of the
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
olden time in Siena. Many of their works
have been lately republished; and modern
writers, like Falletti-Fossati, Carpellini,
Banchi, and Acquarone, are indefatigable
in their efforts to restore the couleur locale
to Siena's history. By the help of these
books, old and new, we can understand
pretty well what were the ways of daily life.
in Siena four hundred years ago.
We will suppose a stranger to have ar-
rived at Siena towards the close of the four-
teenth century. Having been detained on
the way thither, he has not reached the top
of the long ascent till after sunset, and he
finds the city gates closed.¹ He must there-
fore be content with a lodging for himself
and his horses and servants at a humble os-
teria outside the walls. His repose will not
be untroubled, for all night long trains of
mules will be arriving, laden with grain,
stuffs, skins, and all manner of merchandise,
and their drivers will be carousing in the
courtyard. He will be quite ready to join
the miscellaneous procession, when, at day-
break, the great bell from the tower of the
1 Some of the gates of Siena are even now shut at sunset,
and it consequently once happened to the writer to have to
make a long détour in order to enter the city after a country
walk.
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
109
Palazzo Pubblico announces that night is
past, and that the citizens may issue from
their houses. Slowly the heavy gates creak
open, and through the narrow entrance
pours the crowd of men and beasts, pushing,
struggling, held back by the gabellieri until
the tedious search for contraband articles
and the payment of duties on lawful ones
have taken place; these gabellieri being in
their turn under the surveillance of men in
the secret service of the municipality. Once
inside the city gates, and toiling up the
steep, narrow streets, the traveler sees the
workmen hastening to their tasks, with
hooded heads and enveloped in long cloaks;
for the autumn mornings are frosty on the
hill-top, and the chill of night still lingers
in the streets. The chief movement is to-
wards the Piazza del Campo, in the centre of
the city, where, all around the outer edge of
the great shell-like cavity, booths are being
erected, and the venders of fish, flesh, straw,
fruit, stuffs, and every imaginable article of
commerce are spreading forth their wares.
The centre of the shell is reserved for the
sellers of earthen vessels. Vociferous bar-
gaining with early housewives has already
begun, and oxen, horses, cocks, mules, pigs,
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
and sheep lend their voices to this matinée.
The gay dresses of the peasants and the
white head-cloths of the city servants add
picturesqueness to the scene.
It is now seven o'clock, and the bell from
the Mangia tower begins to sound again.
This time it summons the city officials to
their posts; and they come striding through
the crowd with their red tunics and black
or crimson hoods. They are hurrying along
at a rather undignified pace in order to
reach the palazzo before the bell shall have
stopped ringing, lest they should incur a
fine for tardiness. Seated in their high-
backed chairs behind a broad table, sur-
rounded by their secretaries and messengers,
they present a much more imposing appear-
All sorts of taxes must be received
by them, and it is also their duty to pre-
serve or dispose of all sequestrated property,
especially weapons found on persons not
allowed to carry them, to register the names
of criminals, and to pay bounties to those
who have procured any benefit to the city,
such as the killing of a wolf or the building
of a cistern. Other officers, each escorted
by two soldiers in full armor, may be seen
departing on their rounds to inspect all the
ance.
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
111
shops and discover any false weights or
smuggled goods. Suddenly a trumpet
sounds; the babel of voices is hushed, and
all eyes are turned towards the banditore,
or herald, who advances from one of the
dark streets on horseback. It would seem
a sacrilege to call this gorgeous creature a
town-crier; he is clad in red and white,
and boasts a silver trumpet and a silken
banner. As he is the only medium of pub-
lic or official news, it well becomes all citi-
zens to pay attention to him, until, with
a parting flourish on his instrument, he dis-
misses his audience and disappears.
Our traveler by this time is glad to quit
the noisy piazza, and seek the inn, whither
his servants have preceded him. The land-
lord of the Three Kings has been only in-
formed that a "pezzo grosso " (man of con-
sideration) is coming, and the hotel is full
of the good-natured bustle in which Italian
courtesy shows itself. Here, in the best room,
he will get some good old Chianti wine and
a dish of tripe, or of fish from the Arbia;
and the landlord will promise him a lasca
from Lake Thrasymene for his dinner, if
the Illustrissimo will honor his poor dwell-
ing, or will whisper, carefully looking to see
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
that no strangers are listening, that he has
a fine shoulder of mutton in the cupboard.
But this is a dead secret, for sheep's and
pigs' flesh is not allowed to be sold within
the city or suburbs; and if the vender were
discovered, he would be obliged not only to
pay a heavy fine but to stand a whole day
in the piazza, with the meat hung round his
neck, a butt for the ridicule of all the street
gamins.
Going out for a walk after breakfast, the
Illustrissimo would find the streets full of
the higher classes of the people: riders of
gay horses careering through the streets
(innocent now, as then, of sidewalks), cry-
ing "Salva! Salva!" to the pedestrians in
their way; damsels on their high saddles,
and pious dames on foot, returning from
mass at their parish churches. The nobles
were not, as in these days, distinguishable
by being the worst dressed men in the
crowd; on the contrary, they were known
from the burghers by their black hats with
golden cords and white plumes. They had
an advantage over the other sex as to street
costumes: they could display all their brav-
ery abroad, while strict sumptuary laws rel-
egated the elegant toilets of women to the
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
113
A
house. The men's attire, of richest silk and
velvet, sparkled with precious stones, and
their horses were not infrequently shod with
silver. But women of respectability were
forbidden to appear out-doors in garments
of luxury. No stuffs with woven or em-
broidered designs of flowers, fruits, animals,
or arabesques were allowed. The girdle,
from the earliest times one of the most
costly portions of the dress, must no longer
be" a veder più che la persona; " it must
not be worth more than four florins, and
even then must be entirely concealed. For
did not those stern and bejeweled law-mak-
ers surely know that deft fingers, if al-
lowed to display their handiwork, would
make a thing of beauty out of the common-
est and least expensive materials? A dark-
colored mantle, ample enough to hide the
figure, must also envelop the whole person
from head to foot. But even these laws
were not so stringent as those of Florence
at the same period, which regulated the
minutest details of female costume, even to
jewelry; while the Sienese dame might dis-
play, in holding her mantle about her chin
with one hand, and managing her train with
the other, as many rings and bracelets as
8
114
AT HOME IN ITALY.
she chose. However, the dark eyes and
brilliant complexions of the Sienese beau-
ties doubtless shone all the more brightly
in the setting of their dull mantles; and
veils were not only not enjoined, but strictly
forbidden, as tending to favor secrecy and
unlawful designs. A lady of quality never
went out on foot without being attended by
two men-servants, one preceding and the
other following her, while her maid walked,
at a respectful distance, by her side; and
there might also be a page to relieve her of
the fatigue of holding up her long train.
Thus attended, and deeply versed as any
Turveydrop in the laws of deportment,
"vera incessu patuit dea." She well knew
that her step must not betoken pride, em-
barrassment, or frivolity; that her glance
must evince, or at least affect, simplicity and
honesty. As to natural, free exercise on
foot in the open air, it was, and is in great
measure to this day, a thing unknown to
Italian women. The impossibility of young
unmarried women going out alone induces
the habit of remaining in the house, which
eventually makes it irksome to do more
than creep to mass at a neighboring church.
But we will suppose our traveler to have
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
115
gazed his fill at these unknown damsels and
squires, for the bells of the churches are
ringing for noon, and all Siena dines at this
hour. Let us hope that mine host of the
Three Kings has fulfilled his promises, and
given the stranger occasion to think well of
the Sienese cuisine. At all events, he will
have plenty of talk to season his repast, for
the landlord will look in to see that his dis-
tinguished guest is well served, and to get
the latest foreign news from him, in return
for which he will detail all that is going on
in the city. It is a pity that the Illustris-
simo had not come a couple of months ear-
lier, to see the race for the palio.
"It was
quite wonderful this year," says the host;
"and our district, of the Bull, won the
prize." And then follows a long description
of the splendors of that most beautiful and
fascinating of all public festivals still kept
upon Assumption Day, in the same manner
as it was four hundred years ago.
After his siesta, the Illustrissimo will
think it time to pay visits to such acquaint-
ances as he may have in the city. He will
find the crowd in the streets even greater
than in the morning. It is the hour of
amusement and relaxation. Here a group
+
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
has gathered around an improvisatore; or a
cantastorie is droning out his long ballads
in a monotonous recitative. Politicians are
"discreetly" discussing public affairs about
the shop doors; young girls are being safely
convoyed by lynx-eyed mammas, and young
men are intently studying the pretty faces
as they pass, and perhaps getting a chance
to whisper "Bella!" into some ear. It is
not mere idle curiosity on their part, for all
men between the ages of twenty-eight and
fifty must marry, or be ineligible for any
public office. The text of this curious law,
which was promulgated in 1405, runs thus:
"The city of Siena being deficient in popu-
lation, and the wish of the citizens being
that said city should prosper, it is provided
and ordered that every citizen between the
ages of twenty-eight and fifty years shall
be bound and obliged to take a wife within
a year from the day when the present pro-
vision goes into effect. And whoever is of
contrary mind and neglects to obey cannot
and shall not hold any public office until he
takes a wife; the penalty for any such per-
son who accepts office being one hundred
pounds in Sienese money, and removal from
said office; and it shall be lawful to bring
THE cirr
117
CITY OF THE WINDS.
pen-
accusations, and the fourth part of said
alty shall go to the accuser, another fourth
part to the official who tries the case, and
the half to the Commune of Siena. And
the present provision does not include those
who can give a legitimate reason for being
excused on account of infirmity."
Following the stranger to the house of
his friend, we find him received with the us-
ual ceremonious and complimentary South-
ern welcome. In those old days, when vis-
itors were rare, and fortunes larger than
at present, it was not to be permitted that
even an unexpected guest should remain at
an inn. He is at once invited to pass the
remainder of his stay in Siena under his
friend's hospitable roof, with many re-
proaches for not having sooner made known
his presence. Of course he endeavors to
excuse himself. Ma, che! servants are
quickly dispatched to the Three Kings for
the stranger's impedimenta; and they are
bidden to make haste, for the sun is setting,
and the first curfew has already begun to
ring. The city gates are closed, the shops
are shutting, and the night watchmen are
putting on their armor and gathering at
headquarters. An hour later the second
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curfew sounds, and whoever has to go
through the streets at this late hour must
carry with him a wax candle of a size regu-
lated by law. Hasty good-nights are ex-
changed between the few passers-by, all
quickening their steps to reach their homes
before the third and last curfew shall strike;
for then all the people must be within their
houses, or pay the penalty of citation for
their disobedience. Thus two hours after
sunset, by half-past seven on this October
evening, the streets are silent save for the
watchman's tread, and dark except for the
twinkling ray from some lamp before a
shrine. Even now, with the blaze of gas-
light, the open shops, and the busy crowd,
there are steep, narrow lanes and flights of
steps, where shadows lurk in the recesses.
and doorways; and the Via del Coltellaccio
-the Street of the Ugly Knife—has an
ominous sound.
But the citizens of Siena were not, as it
would at first appear, deprived of all social
pleasures after nightfall. Those bridges
thrown from the upper story of one house
to that of another, over streets and passages,
of which one still sees many in all Italian
cities, were not intended solely for the sup-
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
119
port of the high buildings against winds
and earthquakes, or for escape in case of
assault. They served also a pleasanter pur-
pose as a means of communication dur-
ing the hours when it was forbidden to go
into the streets; and a whole neighborhood
could thus assemble, and protract their fes-
tivities to as late an hour as they pleased.
The Illustrissimo Signore, says his friend,
has arrived at an opportune moment. To-
night there is to be a conversazione in the
house of the Piccolomini, and all the élite of
Siena will be there. Those who live at too
great a distance to avail themselves of the
bridges will come early, and pass the night
in the Piccolomini Palace, or in the houses
of friends. He will be delighted to show
his friend the beauty and fashion of Siena,
of which he can have seen but little out-of-
doors. And truly, the stranger owns him-
self dazzled, as, after threading narrow pas-
sages and steep staircases and dizzy bridges,
he emerges into a brilliantly lighted gal-
lery, full of liveried servants, and is con-
ducted to the vast salon, already peopled
with gorgeously appareled guests. For this
is the hour of the Sienese woman's triumph
and revenge. While in the morning her
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lord's dress outshone her own, now she
eclipses his. The Sienese ladies, says an old
chronicler, "diligently sought out the finest
and very best materials;" they loved em-
broidery and pearls and gold and precious
stones so well, and wore them in such profu-
sion, that the richest toilet that ever made a
husband of to-day repine would seem tame
and ordinary in comparison. The toilet of
a gran signora, in any part of Italy, was
fuller of mysteries than that of the Empress
Josephine. There were all sorts of washes,
and unguents, and powders, and tresses of
golden thread to be inwoven with the hair.
Allessandro Piccolomini, in his curious lit-
tle satire, "Della bella creanza delle donne,"
tells us that there was not a woman in Siena
who did not make use of these aids to beauty.
He puts into the mouth of his Raffaella this
receipt for a cosa rarissima for the complex-
ion, which is not much worse than some ver-
itable Venetian or Florentine ones which
have come down to us: "I take a pair of
pigeons and bone them; then I put some
Venetian turpentine, lily blossoms, fresh
eggs, apples, sea-crabs, pounded pearls, and
camphor inside the pigeons, and leave them
to simmer in a glass bottle by a slow fire.
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
121
Then I take musk and amber and more
pearls and silver; and having pulverized
them, I put them in a cloth, and tie it over
the mouth of the bottle, so that the liquid
will run out through it, after which it must
stand a few days." But of these things the
Illustrissimo is supposed to be profoundly
unconscious. The result which is before
him enchains his eyes. He sees brilliant
complexions, in which red and white are
skillfully, if not naturally, mingled, melt-
ing dark eyes and heavy eyebrows, abun-
dant hair carelessly gathered into a gold or
silver net, and a diadem on the brow. The
dress fits closely to the bust, with bouffant
sleeves, and the girdle is now exposed in all
its splendor. The buttons of the dress are
of wrought gold, and necklace, bracelets, and
rings sparkle with diamonds and rubies,
while the foot, in its high-heeled, painted
slipper, peeps out from the short front of the
trained skirt. Complicated forms and extrav-
agant ornamentation had already taken the
place of the simple and noble styles of the
thirteenth century. Any book of ancient
costumes will show this gradual depravation
of taste in dress, which shall we dare to
it? — has not yet had its risorgimento.
say
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
Where can we better leave our traveler
than in the company of these noble cava-
liers and dames, gazing at the frescoes of
Signorelli and Gozzoli, listening to sweet
voices accompanied by spinet or guitar, or
dancing in stately fashion till long after mid-
night has tolled from the Mangia tower?
II.
I have passed five or six summers in Si-
ena, and always with increasing pleasure. It
may be interesting to those who have never
visited the city at this season to know what
are its capabilities for comfort and enter-
tainment. It is called "The City of the
Winds;" its position 1,000 feet above the
level of the sea, on five or six hills rising
abruptly from the plain, insures it always a
refreshing breeze from some quarter; and
the air is dry and pure. From the window
at which I sit I look off for miles over the
plains to the Chianti hills, beyond which
rise the distant Apennines. These plains
are covered with olive gardens and vine-
yards, with here and there an ancient castle,
or a villa surrounded by cypresses; alto-
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
123
gether, a landscape as characteristic as it is
beautiful. The city, seen from the plain,
presents a most picturesque appearance.
Its walls wind over the crests of the hills
and down into the deep ravines; there are
frequent bell-towers, and the great cathedral
crowns the whole; its delicate campanile
rising side by side with the not less beauti-
ful tower of the Palazzo Pubblico. Once
inside the city gates, the narrow, crooked
streets and the old palaces remind you that
you are in one of the oldest cities of Italy.
For one morning there is enough to do in
exploring or revisiting the cathedral, the
library, the picture-galleries, public and
private, and the churches. For the even-
ings there are beautiful country walks and
drives; and nearer home, within the city
limits, the pretty little park called the Lizza,
where the band plays twice a week, and all
Siena goes to see and to be seen; and above
the park, the fortress with its enchanting
prospect, its smooth grassy lawns, and noble
trees. We do not bring with us Saratoga
trunks. The floors are of brick, and are
sprinkled every morning, presenting the al-
ternative of red mud or red dust to trailing
skirts; the streets are without sidewalks,
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
and the dust in them is yellow; the water-
melon stands are as thick as at a New Eng-
land cattle-show, and as well patronized ;
and, as there, the seeds and rinds are
plentifully distributed upon the ground.
There is no fashionable crowd of foreigners
here, as at Lucca or Leghorn, to whom the
riches of our toilets can be profitably dis-
played, — as to the Italians, they are not in
the least affected by any show of magnifi-
cence on our part; they have old laces and
diamonds enough at home to buy all our
Paris finery, if their dress is sometimes
rather slovenly abroad; and with such in-
different spectators it does not pay to spoil
our clothes. We feel justified in being
comfortable in short dresses and over-skirts
tied back a trifle less painfully than in Flor-
ence; and we live and breathe better in con-
sequence. We go to the vineyards, where
the grapes are beginning to turn purple,
and the trees are loaded with fruit. The
people wear happy looks, for the year prom-
ises unusual plenty in wine and oil, and the
grain is already safely housed. They offer
us wine and milk, and show us their pretty
brown babies, wound up like mummies, but
bearing their bonds with such patience as
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125
none but an Italian baby could. A month
hence we shall go to the vintage, and then
to the chestnut gathering.
As to the climate, in an exceptionally
hot summer the thermometer in my sitting-
room never registered above 80°; there was
always a cool draught of air through the
corridors, and, by closing the blinds on the
sunny side of the house during the middle
of the day, we could always, even there,
maintain a temperature which was bearable
if not agreeable. The nights were invaria-
bly cool, and in the narrow streets one could
always walk in the shade, even at noon; the
high buildings making some of them perpet-
ually dim, so that I wondered how the in-
habitants of the ground floors could have
light enough for the commonest occupations.
But the Italians, though they rejoice in the
brilliant sunshine of their land, as beautify-
ing the landscape and ripening the olive and
the grape, do not like to admit it to their
houses too freely. Many a large and elegant
room is spoiled for us light-loving foreign-
ers by its small allowance of window; per-
haps one at the end of a long salon, and
that heavily draped and protected by all
sorts of inside and outside shutters. Add
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懵
​to this that the wall-papers or other cover-
ings are almost always of dark, light-absorb-
ing tints, and you will understand why the
most handsomely furnished room often ap-
pears gloomy and repelling to an American
or English eye. How the delicate embroid-
ery and lovely lace which in times past were
the favorite occupation of women here, both
in the convent and in the family, were ever
made in such dimly-lighted rooms, sur-
passes my power of imagination. Galileo's
daughter writes him to beg for a piece of
oiled linen for the window of her cell in the
convent of Arcetri, that she might not suffer
so much with cold in the winter days, at the
fine sewing she wishes to do for him. With
the feeble twilight which struggles through
her little window high up in the wall, thus
glazed, she can do better than with the un-
obstructed light, because her fingers are not
so chilled.
But in the summer days these
great dusky rooms are welcome refuges.
The great events of the summer, and in-
deed of the whole year, as regards amuse-
ment, are the races, referred to in the pre-
ceding chapter. They take place on the
1st of July and the 15th of August. The
latter, being Assumption Day, is the grand
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127
:
festival of Siena, "Civitas Virginis." These
races are quite unique in character.
The city was formerly divided into sixty
contrade or districts, which later were re-
duced to seventeen; each of these districts
takes its name from some animal, or natural
object, as the giraffe, the sheep, the turtle,
the shell; each has a special church and a
patron saint; also, a costume and banners
for fête days. Out of the seventeen districts,
ten are allowed to compete each year in the
principal race, called Il Palio; seven being
chosen by turn and three by lot. Each has
its own horse and jockey, but the districts
must all draw lots for the use of horses and
men, so that a horse sometimes runs for one
contrada and sometimes for another. The
racers are small ponies of the Corsican breed,
looking more fit for family pets than for ex-
citing work; however, they have spirit and
endurance, and, considering the difficulties.
of running on an uneven and dangerous
track and being heavily weighted, they cer-
tainly make good time. The riders are
splendid specimens of the Italian peasant-
class, straight and strong, but far too
heavy, we should think, for the horses. The
races take place in the Piazza Vittorio Eman-
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
:
uele, which is one of the curiosities of Siena.
It is a hollow, perhaps a third of a mile in
circumference, in the middle of the city, and
is said, indeed, to be an extinct crater. In
form it is like a shell; paved with brick and
with narrow stone paths, converging to the
base. It has, happily, never occurred to the
Sienese to fill up the hollow, and make it
level; so they go down and up again in
crossing it, in a vastly picturesque and in-
convenient fashion. At the base of the shell
stands the Palazzo Pubblico, or city hall, a
beautiful Gothic building of the thirteenth
century; and all around the piazza are old
palaces, alternating, in the usual promis-
cuous Italian way, with shops and humble
dwellings. The race-course is the paved car-
riage-road between the edge of the shell and
these buildings; as uneven, crooked, and al-
together preposterous a race-course as it is
possible to imagine. Its curves are sharp,
and, just after rounding one, there is an ab-
rupt descent; at the next, a steep ascent, and
so on. The preparations for the races begin
several days beforehand. The yellow earth
of Siena is dumped in heaps upon the course,
the pavement evenly covered with it, and
wetted down. Rows of seats are erected
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
129
against the buildings, rising to the second
story, and are covered with carpet or white
cloth. These are taken, at a franc a place,
by the middle class, and are really the best
places for seeing. Above them, the balco-
nies of the houses furnish room for the aris-
tocracy and those foreigners who dislike to
mix with the populace, or who fear that the
seats may have been constructed on the
American plan. They are not, however;
time and labor here are not more precious
than human life; and besides, they are ex-
amined every morning by a government en-
gineer. The crowd find places in the piazza,
round which a strong iron fence extends.
On the 13th of August the banners of the
different districts were brought to the ca-
thedral to be blessed, and hung up there for
two days. The effect of these banners at-
tached to the pillars of the cathedral, from
the entrance to the nave, was strikingly
beautiful. Their blue and scarlet and green
and gold lighted up the dim building with
an unwonted glory. There are three prove
or trials, before the race, and the first one
of these was on Saturday, the 13th, at six
P. M. It called altogether a crowd of spec-
tators eager for the indications of Monday's
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success. The horses made three circuits.
They are let into a space inclosed between
two ropes, but rush in without any order,
and they push and struggle for the best
start. At this prova the horse which ran
for the contrada of the Sheep won easily;
though a little white pony, owned by a
priest, which has run for twenty-five years
and which was the general favorite among
the disinterested spectators, made a good
start, but somehow fell behind in the third
round. There was the usual talk about the
jockey being bribed; however, the trial was
considered on the whole a fair one, and poor
Whitey was judged to be growing old.
The riders had short, strong whips of bone
which they plied freely, not only on the
horses, but on each other; hitting hard on
the face or arms or back, till it seemed as if
they would kill each other. No one was
thrown on this trial, but on the following
morning, I was told, all ten of the jockeys
tumbled off in rounding the difficult curves.
On Monday afternoon, each horse which
was to take part in the races was conducted
to the church of his contrada to receive the
benediction of the priest. I went to see
this interesting ceremony at the Church of
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​THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
131
St. George. After waiting a few moments.
the sound of drums was heard in the dis-
tance, and presently the procession, consist-
ing of the pages of the contrada in costume,
the jockey, fantastically dressed, the flag
bearers, and finally the horse, with gilded
hoofs, appeared at the church door. The
horse walked up to the altar with great self-
possession, the jockey and pages knelt at
the altar rail, and the priest in his robes
muttered some prayers, and sprinkled horse
and man with holy water. Then cakes and
wine were served, and every one present
was obliged to drink to the success of the
blessed beast.
When this ceremony was over it was
time to go to the piazza. We found it al-
ready filling fast. The balconies were gay
with crimson, green, and white hangings,
and the many-colored dresses of the conta
dine, and especially their great leghorn hats,
a yard at least in diameter, without stiffen-
ing, and falling in folds above their faces,
made a bright picture in the sombre old
square. At six o'clock, half a dozen
mounted soldiers issued from the Palazzo
Pubblico to clear the track for the races.
It was a difficult task; there were by that
!..
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time not less than forty thousand people in
the piazza; but they accomplished it with
infinite patience and gentleness, which
found an answer in the good-humor of the
crowd. There is no crowd so little to be
feared as an Italian one. They take the
pushing and squeezing as a part of the play,
and, instead of hard words and blows, they
hurl jokes at one another. When at last
the horsemen had made the circuit of the
piazza, the signal was given for the entrance
of the procession, which was to open the
performance. First a band of music; then
came the districts one by one, a dozen men
to each, in costumes some of which were
most picturesque. Two men bore the ban-
ners of each contrada, which they waved
and tossed in a hundred graceful evolutions
till the air seemed filled with flying colors;
then came two pages, youths selected for
their beauty, then a groom leading the race-
horse, and the jockey following on a larger
horse. The costume of one district was
particularly noticeable. It was of blue and
white, the page attired in a white shirt,
with blue velvet mantle embroidered with
silver, and blue cap. After these had gone.
the rounds and disappeared under the arch-
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133
ing of the Palazzo Pubblico, came forth the
Sienese carroccio, drawn by four houses,
and adorned with the banners of the city,
held by men in complete suits of armor. It
is a high platform with a lofty flag-staff in
the centre, supporting the black and white
flag and the cross. Next came the Flor-
ence carroccio, made in imitation of that
taken at Monte Aperto. After these had
slowly made the tour of the piazza and
been drawn up before the palazzo, the sig-
nal for the races was given.
In an instant the ten horses dashed up
before the judges' balcony, and at the word
of command were off pell-mell, crowding,
struggling, the riders beating each other un-
mercifully; up the steep ascent, and down
the slope, where at the most dangerous
points mattresses were placed to break
the force of a fall for horse or rider; and
so round and round, the brown horse which
had won on the previous Saturday dis-
tancing all the others on the second round,
coming in far in advance. During this
time all was commotion in the piazza. Men,
women, and children shouted and danced,
and waved their hats as the horses flew by;
and when it was over, "Bella corsa! bella
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
corsa!" resounded on all sides. The win-
ning horse was led in front of the judges'
seat, the jockey was borne thither in the
arms of his friends, who almost stifled him
with caresses, and the prize, a beautiful
white banner with the arms of Siena and ap-
propriate inscriptions, was delivered to the
standard bearer of the district. The jockey
receives sixty dollars from the municipality,
and the owner of the horse a smaller sum ;
but the gains of the former, with douceurs,
usually amount to something like one hun-
dred dollars; which to an Italian peasant
is a little fortune. The winning horse was
then conducted back to church to return
thanks for his success, and after that al-
lowed to rest, while those whom he had
made the heroes of the day spent the night
in feasting and parading the streets.
But perhaps the most enjoyable races are
the less informal ones of the day following.
At the same hour the crowd refills the pi-
azza, and the same preliminaries are gone
through. These are called the Roman races,
and are four in number. Three horses only
run at a time, except in the last race; their
choice being determined by lot. The eager-
ness of both horses and men is greater than
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
135
the day before; they will not wait for the
dropping of the flag, and make a false start,
to the imminent peril of the master of cer-
emonies, who orders them all back again.
One horse, through bewilderment, or the
stupidity of his rider, does not start till the
others are half round the course. The brown
horse who won the day before is again vic-
torious. There is a cry that the start was
not fair; that the rider of the disgraced an-
imal did not see the signal, and there are
some signs of a fight between the jockeys.
The master of ceremonies has to go to the
Palazzo Pubblico to restore order; there is
a pause, and the people grow impatient and
begin to whistle and stamp. A little boy
and girl behind me, who have been kicking
my shoulders in their enthusiasm, grow
quiet, and declare it is very stupid; but pres-
ently out come the horses, and the kicking
recommences. The second race goes off bet-
ter, little Whitey wins; I am glad of it, and
it appears that he has also the sympathies
of my young friends. He wins also in the
third and decisive race, but only by half a
head, and we all get very much excited over
him, and look to see him drop after the fa-
tigue and excitement. But he walks off as
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
quietly as if he had been all along sure of
winning, and takes his honors very coolly.
He belongs, to-day, to the contrada of the
Shell. Strange tales are told of the intel-
ligence of this little beast; this, at least,
seems well authenticated, that he knew
when the season of the races approached,
and became restless till he was taken from
the village where his master lived, to Siena.
This year, a few days before the festa, he
was sent, as usual, alone to mill with his
sack of grain. As soon as it was taken off,
instead of going home, he started for Siena,
and, arriving there, presented himself at the
stable he was accustomed to occupy during
the races.
Once the jockey was thrown off
in the first round; and he went on without
a rider for the other two rounds, and came
in winner.
Now comes the last race of all, called the
Consolazione, between the six worst horses,
and that is won by the contrada of the Gi-
raffe. The district of the Goose, however,
are not satisfied that Whitey was really
ahead of their horse when the flag-staff was
passed, and they propose to dispute the pos-
session of the prize, which, as yesterday, is
a banner. We are just below the judges'
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
137
stand, and see the crowd coming. They
press up to the soldiers, who are in line be-
fore the stand, each party appealing vocif-
erously to the judges and stretching out
their hands for the flag. The prize of Con-
solation is given first, and carried off. Then
the excitement redoubles. If the flag is
handed down to either party, it will be torn
in pieces by the other. Meanwhile the six
mounted soldiers ride quietly up, and pre-
pare to take a share in the mêlée. Things
look serious to an American eye. I propose
to retreat, expecting every moment to see
the gleam of a knife or the flash of a pistol,
and inquire anxiously whether there is not
danger in staying. "Oh, no!" says my
Italian companion, "they will use no weap-
ons worse than tongues and fists; don't you
see that the carabinieri have put up their
swords, so as not to enrage them? It will
be all over in a minute." And so it was.
The horsemen gently but steadily pressed
back the crowd, clearing a space around the
stand; the banner was handed down to the
contrada of the Shell, and resolutely borne
away by a stout peasant; and, the decis-
ion once made, in ten minutes the crowd
had melted away, the men who had gestic-
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
ulated most wildly were lighting their pipes,
and going off quietly to their homes to cel-
ebrate the present victory, or hope for better
luck next year, as the case might be.
Half-barbaric as these races are in some
of their accessories, and wholly wanting in
the order which characterizes this sport in
England and America, there is in them a
picturesqueness and simplicity which makes
them perhaps better enjoyable to a specta-
tor than those more seriously conducted. By
the common people of Siena and the country
round about, they are looked forward to
through all the year, with such preparation
as their means may afford, and enjoyed as
only a southern nation can enjoy a holiday.
The solemn, ancient buildings that surround
the public square form a fine contrasting
background to the scene below; for the mo-
ment one could fancy himself assisting at
some tournament of the Middle Ages; so
strange, so foreign to all our modern ways
are the circumstances of these races, and the
appearance of those who take part in them.
During long days of illness at Siena,
I amused myself not a little with the leg-
ends and family histories which my nurse.
had always ready. She was a woman of
THE CITY OF THE WINDS. 139
an.
forty-five or so, the mother of a large family,
for whose support her precarious gains as
nurse, with the wages of her husband in a
hospital at nine dollars per month, had to
suffice. I have seldom seen a happier wom-
Her only ambition was to keep out of
debt, and thus far she had succeeded. There
was no trace about her of the "everlasting
worry
" which kills American women even
in easy circumstances; yet she had appar-
ently much to make her lot a hard one. One
of her children was hopelessly a cripple,
and all but one were still too young to do
anything toward their own support. She
was intent on giving them sufficient school
education to avoid the difficulties she had
experienced for want of it.
I asked her, one day, if she could read.
"Alas! no, signora!" she answered. "I
have not been to school since I was ten years
old, and I only went two months in all.
This is how it happened: My oldest sister
was thirteen then, and had been going to
school a long time. One day, my father
found her writing a love-letter. What do
you think of that? Only thirteen, and al-
ready falling in love! Well, my father was
very angry, and declared that if such was
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
the use girls made of learning he would have
no more of it in his family, and he took me
out of school that very day. I was so sorry,
for I had not got through the alphabet.
However, when my Beppo was at the war,
I sent him letters regularly, notwithstand-
ing that I did not know how to write my-
self; and the father never found me out."
Here was a bit of romance, evidently.
Let us see how this love-making under diffi-
culties is carried on in Italy.
"So then," I said, " Caterina, your father
did not approve of your lover? Tell me how
you managed to marry him."
"Senta, signora! My Beppo and I had
known each other from the time we were lit-
tle children; but when I was seventeen he
began to make love to me in earnest. My
father wanted me to marry somebody else,
and would not hear of Beppo, so we hardly
ever saw each other. But his sister came
to our house almost every day; so we sent
messages through her, and the father was
none the wiser. Ah! there is always a way
when one is in love. But then came the
conscription, and my poor Beppo drew a low
number and had to go to be a soldier, and for
six years he was away off in Piedmont, and
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
141
I never saw him in all that time. When he
came back, he tried again to get my father's
consent, for we had never ceased to think of
each other; but it was in vain. Imagine,
dear lady, how hard it was for us both!
Then the war of '59 broke out, and Beppo
volunteered. While he was gone, a much
richer man than he asked me in marriage;
but no! I loved him, and nobody else would
I marry.
One day came a letter, purport-
ing to be written by one of his comrades,
saying Beppo was killed. Oh! Madonna
mia! how I suffered that day; but, the
next day, in came his sister with a letter
from Beppo himself, who was alive and well,
and the other had been written by the man
who wanted to marry me, to make me give
up all hope of Beppo. Well, at last he
came home, and one day I said to my fa-
ther: Listen, babbo, there is something
I want to speak about to you. Either let
me marry the man I love, who is ready to
give me the ring to-morrow; or, if you
prefer that I should not marry at all, tell
me so, that I may think no more about it.'
'And who is this fine fellow who is ready to
give you the ring?' 'Beppo!' 'No; you
shall not marry Beppo.' 'Then I will never
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
marry, and I will not stay here any longer.
I will go out to service and take care of my-
self. No; that you shall not do so long
as I can work.' 'Well, we shall see,' I an-
swered. That evening, when the babbo
went to the barn to attend to the cattle, he
found Beppo waiting for him. What they
said I don't know, but somehow Beppo
brought him round, and the next day we
were betrothed. I was twenty-seven years
old, so we had been waiting ten years.'
"Well, how did you get on after you
were married? "
""
"Oh, we had our troubles, of course.
Soon afterward, my Beppo was taken ill
with camp-fever, and was in his bed eight
months. It was a hard time for us, and I
used to think sometimes that it was all be-
cause I had married against my parents'
wishes. But, thank God, at last Beppo got
well, and things went better with us."
"And you have always been happy to-
gether?
"Altro!" (It is impossible to convey
by any translation the positiveness of affir-
mation which an Italian compresses into
this word.) "He has never spoken a hard
word to me, or given me a black look. And
THE CITY OF THE WINDS.
143
so fond of the children as he is! You should
be there in the evening. He will put them
to bed himself, and then it is a chorus of
'Good-night, babbo,' God bless babbo,'
till they fall asleep. Oh, you should hear
them!"
•
By the side of these simple and patri-
archal scenes of domestic contentment one
comes upon tragedies worthy also of ancient
times. Lately a woman of one of the best
families in Siena, only twenty-three years
old, was charged with having killed her hus-
band by slow poison, that she might marry
another. At the time of his death she was
expecting the birth of a child, and her trial
for murder was postponed on that account.
The house was constantly watched by the
police in order that she might not escape,
and public feeling was so strong against her
that she dared not be seen in the streets, and
stole to church by a private way. With
these gloomy surroundings her child was
born, and the mother still protesting her in-
nocence, the tide of opinion began to turn
in her favor; but, whether or not she is
guilty, her life and that of her innocent
baby - a girl are forever darkened by
the shadow of a crime.
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN THE
PROVINCE OF SIENA.
In the wide sweep of view which Siena,
from its elevated position, commands, the
eye turns often toward a mountain in a
southeastern direction from the city. It
seems isolated, from its great height above
the chain of hills (a branch of the Apen-
nines) of which it is the principal peak; and
its graceful form, whose outlines are soft-
ened by the distance, makes it one of the
most attractive features of the landscape.
I was told that the district in which it is
situated was the most picturesque between
Siena and Rome, and, my Italian friends
being familiar with it, it was proposed to
spend a week in an excursion to the Monte
Amiata country.
We left Siena by train on the road to
Orte, about ten o'clock of a beautiful au-
tumn morning. The road descends from
the city to the valley of the Arbia by a very
steep grade. At Asciano, about an hour
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 145
from Siena, we left the Roman train and
took a branch road to Grosseto. It passes
for miles through a most desolate tract of
country of volcanic origin, which with
proper cultivation might afford an excellent
soil for vine-growing, but at present shows
only dunes of sand shaped by the winds and
the torrents into fantastic forms, with here
and there a few frightened-looking trees.
in some sheltered spot, and an occasional
lonely farm-house in the distance. It is a
most dreary stretch of road, the blinding
glare and heat of the sand unrelieved for
miles; and when at last we come out into a
valley through which winds a scanty river,
the vegetation upon its banks appears lux-
uriant by contrast. The mountain for which
we are bound grows more and more distinct,
and when we stop about one o'clock at the
little Amiata station, we feel that we have
almost reached it. It is not so, however.
There is an hour of waiting at the dismal
building which serves as a hotel, and which
the proprietor indicates to us as his "
"pa-
lazzo," where we are served with something
that is called soup, and which we prudently
discard for the provisions that we have
brought with us. Then we get into a mail
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
7
coach and go up and up for three hours,
glad to get out of the sultry, malarious val-
ley into pure air. The road, which is ex-
cellent, climbs around the hillsides, and the
views are curious and most interesting.
It is my first sight of the real Italian
country; for the environs of cities do not at
all represent it. The trees are mostly chest-
nut, of great size and beauty, with here and
there a stone-pine or ilex grove. The soil is
poor, and the grass withered and scanty.
Everything about the villages and isolated
dwellings recalls the time when every man's
hand was against his neighbor; when the
first necessity for families and communities
was the means of defense against attack.
The villages are perched upon the tops of
the hills, many of them inaccessible to car-
riages, the houses huddled together, and the
whole surrounded by a wall. Every castle
is similarly protected; much, of course, is
ruinous, and the walls would now hardly
avail against a stout thief; but the old habit
remains; the gates are closed at the sound
of the Ave Maria bell; and even at a com-
mon farm-house there is much ringing at the
gate, and much barking of the inevitable
dog, before one can gain admittance even to
the courtyard.
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 147
Our road wound around the bases of these
conical, village-crowned hills, and the out-
look grew more and more extensive. At
length we reached Castel del Piano, one of
the most important towns in the region,
where we hoped to find horses for our further
journey. But none were in waiting; the
slow post which carried our request for them
had not arrived; and by the time we had
hunted them up night was falling, and we
were told that the road was too dangerous
for us to attempt it at that hour. Indeed,
when we saw what a chasm it was necessary
to cross to arrive at Monte Giove, where we
had designed to pass the night at the house
of a friend, we could not but acquiesce in
this judgment. There was nothing for it but
to stay at the best inn of Castel del Piano
till morning, and wretched enough that best
There was no tea, no coffee, no fresh
meat, no bread except the sour black bread
of the country; nor were the other accom-
modations more inviting than the bill of
fare. The beds were decidedly conducive
to early rising, and seven o'clock found us
ready and anxious to be off. The horses
were soon at the door. Mine was a beauti-
ful little Corsican pony, a racer by profes-
was.
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
sion, but gentle as a lamb; and indeed he
had not much temptation to be otherwise,
for the road which we took was sufficient to
occupy his serious attention, being full of
rolling stones, with sharp ascents and de-
scents, and crossing the beds of two torrents.
But the beauty of the scene was beyond de-
scription. The way led at first, for some
miles, through magnificent chestnut groves,
with glimpses of the hills in the distance,
and now and then a village with its knot of
women at the fountain, or a dismantled
convent, or a ruined bridge. The few olive
plantations that we passed were the oldest
I had ever seen; the trees were gnarled and
twisted into all imaginable shapes. As the
tree ages, the heart of it dies, and often
there is nothing left but the bark and a thin
layer of wood, while the branches are still
flourishing and bearing fruit. Presently we
came out upon the mountain-side, and the
view of the Maremma, and finally the dis-
tant Mediterranean, opened upon us. The
sea was at first like a dim white border to
the landscape, but, as the day advanced and
the mists rose, it shone clear and blue, and
at the extreme horizon the mountains of
Elba stood out against the sky. The Ma-
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 149
remma was checkered with villages and for-
ests, the river Ombrone winding through
them ; but the scene was saddened by the
knowledge that this fertile plain is the lurk-
ing-place of the most deadly malaria, whose
effects we had already perceived at Castel
del Piano. Young men were bent and tot-
tering, their skin yellow and shriveled, and
their whole aspect that of misery. There
is little for the men to do in the hill-coun-
try; there are no pastures, the soil being
too poor, consequently no dairy farms;
neither do the vine and olive thrive so well
in these bleak exposures as to make their
cultivation to any great degree profitable.
In the spring the Maremma farmers go up
to these towns, and, by offering a dollar or
two as earnest-money, and steady wages,
which though ridiculously small are better
than their uncertain gains at home, induce
the mountaineers to go down to the lowlands
for the summer. The risk is fearful, but
their needs are great. These earnings are
almost the only money they see throughout
the year.
But I am tarrying too long on the way to
Monticello, the little village which was our
destination. We perceived it at length in
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
the distance, a cluster of brown houses
clinging to the top of a peak higher than
any we had yet seen, with a remarkably
graceful bell-tower rising in the midst.
This village is about 5,000 feet above the
sea; the summit of Monte Amiata is 1,000
feet higher, and it is said that from it the
dome of St. Peter's at Rome can be distin-
guished. Half an hour more brought us to
the entrance of the village. A large and
beautiful stone fountain and basin, at which
the women were washing and filling their
copper jugs, attracted my attention, it was
so superior to what one generally sees in
such a place. We had to leave our horses,
and climb the last steep pitch on foot, and
soon were in the narrow, dark streets of the
miniature city. My companion's family was
well known here, and the rumor that one
of them was coming, and also a "Signora
Americana,” had excited a good deal of in-
terest. I was very probably the first Amer-
ican who had ever penetrated to this remote
nook, and was looked upon with a natural
curiosity which I fully reciprocated, seeing,
as I did, much that was new and strange to
me. There were old women at their doors,
spinning from distaffs, who might have sat
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 151
for the Fates of Michael Angelo; "wrink-
led, but not withered," seeming immeasura-
bly removed from all that belongs to youth,
and yet without any of the feebleness of
age. Brown babies were sprawling on the
stones, and within the dim, smoke-black-
ened rooms the women were at work amid
all the picturesque paraphernalia of an Ital-
ian kitchen. Inn, of course, there was none;
but we were expected at the curé's, and
were received with that gracious and grace-
ful hospitality which is one of the charac-
teristics of Italy; which gives its best with-
out excuse or awkwardness, and glorifies it
by good-will.
We spent a day and night here, and I
became much interested in the life of these
simple people, and in hearing of their efforts
and their needs. Almost all of them are
small land-owners, and this gives them a
sort of self-respect and respectability above
that of their class in the large towns and
cities. Many of them have never been
farther from their native spot than to Castel
del Piano. That dismal little town is to
them a gay and busy place, Siena is a great
city, and Florence a metropolis. Their
wants are few; they eat little meat, and
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live chiefly on the products of their gardens
and fields. They have a few vineyards and
orchards of figs and olives; the chestnut-
trees yield abundantly, and their fruit is
used in many ways, not only roasted and
boiled, but ground into a fine flour, of which
a dark-colored pastry cake is made, which
is considered a great luxury. The chestnuts
are about the size of our horse-chestnut, of
sweet flavor, but coarse in quality. The
festive mode of preparing them for the table
is to roast them and pour over them hot
brandy or rum, the dish being brought in
blazing, after the manner of an English
· plum-pudding, if it be not sacrilege to com-
pare this humble plat doux with that sol-
emn dish. Once or twice a year a traveling
merchant finds his way to these solitudes,
and supplies the modest wants of the vil-
lagers. Their dress, like their manner, is
more simple and sincere than that of their
city brethren and sisters; there is greater
cleanliness and less tawdry finery.
After dinner the servant lingered in the
room as if she had a favor to beg, and
finally made bold to ask of her master if she
could know what my name was. I repeated
it at full length, and it evidently answered
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 153
her wildest expectations, for she stuffed her
apron into her mouth and bolted out of the
room. Toward sunset we walked down into
the valley, and sat an hour under the chest-
nuts, admiring the view and listening to the
plans of the good curé for the benefit of his
parishioners. It seems impossible that the
little hamlet can contain 1,200 souls, but so
it is, and they are huddled together, in pov-
erty, ignorance, and suffering, which, with
the small means at command of the few in-
habitants of the better class, it is difficult to
know how to relieve. Most of the men go
down to the Maremma in summer with their
wives, leaving the children to manage the
best they can. The consequence is, that
the older ones cannot go to school, and the
younger are ill enough cared for. Two had
recently been burnt to death, and one de-
voured by a pig. In view of this state of
things the curé's great desire was to estab-
lish a children's home, where the sick and
those too young to go to school could be
properly cared for, and the others left at
liberty to study. He had himself given the
ground for a suitable building; the school-
mistress, out of a salary of $100, had prom-
ised $20 yearly; the villagers would do the
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
principal work of construction, but the time
seemed far distant when a sum large enough
to justify its commencement could be ob-
tained. Those who have not seen poverty
in Italy do not know what the word means,
or at what personal sacrifices every work of
benevolence in these remote places is accom-
plished. As we came back, the sun was set-
ting in the sea and the clouds were gor-
geous; the Maremma seemed to swim in
golden mist, and even the gloomy summit
of Monte Amiata was for a moment crim-
soned by the glow. The air grew almost
frosty as the short twilight faded, and in
the evening we were glad to gather round
the fire in the great chimney.
I had observed the unusually well-built
and pretty church in the midst of the vil-
lage, and I asked the curé how it had been
erected by people so poor, and with such
difficulties in the transportation of materi-
als to Monticello. "Oh," said he, "that
is the work of seventeen years, and it was a
monument of the zeal and perseverance of
my predecessor, Don Pietro Martinelli.”
The Monticellese had no place for worship
except a miserable little building, and Don
Pietro, feeling the need of something better,
+
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 155
not only for the comfort, but the moral and
mental benefit of his parishioners, under-
took, in 1815, the erection of a church. The
principal materials, the wood and stone, were
to be had in the valley, simply for the labor
of getting them, but it was no easy matter
to drag them up the rough and stony path.
The zeal of the curé, who himself might
often be seen among the laborers in a work-
man's blouse, directing, encouraging, and
even carrying bricks and mortar, succeeded
in getting the work well begun, the founda-
tions laid and a quantity of blocks and tim-
bers prepared in the valley for the super-
structure. But, at this point, discouraged
at an undertaking which seemed to these
rough peasants impossible of accomplish-
ment, they began to relax their efforts, —
they grew weary of spending their spare
hours and holidays (which were of course
all that could be devoted to it) in such ap-
parently fruitless toil, and for a year the
work was entirely suspended. It was a try-
ing time for Don Pietro. During Lent of
that year his duty called him to Castel del
Piano; his preaching touched the hearts of
the inhabitants, and they desired to tes-
tify in some way their appreciation of his
156
AT HOME IN ITALY.
labors. While he was delivering his last
sermon an unusual commotion was heard
outside of the church; the lowing of oxen
and the tinkling of their bells, with a sub-
dued murmur of voices. On descending from
the pulpit, the mayor of the village came to
meet him, and, conducting him to the church
door, showed him the square filled with men
and teams. "These friends," said the
mayor, "know what you have most at
heart. They wish to transport the stones.
and timbers which are lying ready for your
church to Monticello." By the impulse of
good-will it was accomplished; the Monti-
cellese were made ashamed of their inactiv-
ity, and from that time, though for want
of money it was long before the finishing
stroke could be put to the church, the work
was never again abandoned. A clock and
organ, much to the mystification of the peo-
ple, were procured. As the latter were be-
ing brought up the hill they gathered round
the sleds on which the pipes were packed,
and speculated as to their design. Finally
they applied to an old man, who enjoyed the
reputation of being the village oracle, for
an explanation. "You stupid creatures!"
replied he, "can't you understand that these
A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION IN SIENA. 157
·
pipes are all to be set up in the church, and
then somebody who knows how to do it will
blow into them, and one pipe will sound
'amen' and another hallelujah,' and so
on?" One can well believe that the day
when the organ was first played was a gala
day for Monticello.
The fine large fountain which I had ad-
mired at the entrance of the village was also
due to the efforts of Don Pietro, who pro-
cured an appropriation from the government
for a part of the expense, and also contrib-
uted largely from his own slender salary. He
is remembered in these mountains with grat-
itude, and also with somewhat of awe. With
all his benevolence he was stern in repress-
ing vice and all that could minister to it, and
occasionally his reproofs were decidedly
practical. There is a sort of bacchanalian
performance sometimes witnessed in these
parts. A flask of wine is placed on the
floor of the kitchen, and men and women,
joining hands, form a circle and dance
around it. Every now and then the flask is
seized and passed from mouth to mouth,
and when it is empty it is replaced by an-
other, and so on till the dancers become ex-
hausted or drunk, or both together. Enter
?
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
Don Pietro on such a scene as this with a
stout whip in his hand. What with vener-
ation for his sacred calling and fear of the in-
strument of discipline, with which he would
lay about him lustily, the dancers would
disperse like a swarm of flies. That was
before the days of "praying crusades."
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
We chose the hill-city of Perugia as our
refuge during the hot weather one summer.
Lying 1,600 feet above the sea, and nearly
1,000 above the Tiber valley, we reasoned
that it ought to afford pure air and fresh
breezes even the hottest days. Baedeker
and Murray, with several private author-
ities, confirmed this opinion, and we were
sustained by it in packing up in a temper-
ature of 90°. It was too hot to travel by
day with comfort, so one July evening we
took the ten o'clock Roman train, and had
soon left the dusty streets of Florence be-
hind us, and were speeding through the
open country, and rejoicing in the coolness
of the evening fields. It requires a strong
motive to travel by night in winter in these
European countries, where the luxuries of
American "sleeping-cars" are unknown,
and the long hours of darkness and the chill-
ing dawn must be endured as best they can,
160
AT HOME IN ITALY.
without anything better than the coupé-lit
affords; but I do not know anything more
charming than to spend thus a short sum-
mer night, in which the twilight hardly fades
from the western sky before the morning
star begins to glow in the east. Even the
prosaic fact of traveling by rail is trans-
formed into a subtle and poetic pleasure.
All that is wearying to the eye and mind
by day in the signs of labor necessary for
your conveyance is concealed by the dark-
ness; there is no crowd or hurry at any
station, and your fellow-passengers are
either too sleepy, or at least too silent, to
interrupt your own quiet. You are, as it
were, stealing a pleasure which the usual
course of life would never have offered, and
it has therefore a sweet and special flavor.
The road from Florence to Perugia, it is
true, is one of the most beautiful in Italy,
and merits to be passed over at least once
by daylight by every traveler. It runs up
the fair Val d'Arno, through a region of
hills and valleys rich in the olive and the
vine, and picturesque with ancient villages,
and castles, and country houses of the Flor-
entine aristocracy. On the left rise the
wood-covered swelling hills, amid which the
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA. 161
convent of Vallombrosa is hidden; and the
peaks of the Apennines form the back-
ground.
Quitting the Arno, which makes a sharp
bend to the left just before reaching Arezzo,
we go on our way southward, soon crossing
the boundary of Tuscany and entering the
Umbrian country.
Cortona on its high cliff, one of the most
ancient of Etruscan cities, full of relics of
prehistoric times, and of treasures of art
and architecture of later ages, has attrac-
tions enough to retain the traveler for at
least a day. Its situation, overlooking Lake
Thrasymene and the Val di Chiana, is ex-
ceedingly fine, and from this point of view
one can realize how well adapted for the
stratagem of Hannibal was this valley, with
its two narrow outlets to the north and
south, shut in by mountains on the east and
the lake on the west. It was on a summer
morning, when the fog lay thick upon the
lake and the valley, that the unsuspecting
Roman commander entered the narrow de-
file from Cortona, and fell into the snare
prepared for him. The battle took place
where the little village of Passignano now
stands, and so fiercely did it rage that the
11
162
AT HOME IN ITALY.
shock of an earthquake, which devastated
many cities of Italy, was unnoticed by the
combatants. It might well be written down
an ater dies in the Roman annals, for be-
fore noon Flaminius and 15,000 of his sol-
diers lay dead upon the battlefield.
The lake is a beautiful sheet of water
thirty-five miles in circumference, and nearly
circular in form with three wooded islets,
on the larger of which is a convent. The
direct railway route to Rome formerly
passed along the northern shore of the lake.
But a few years ago a cross-line from Ter-
entola to Chiusi was completed, which les-
sens the time between Florence and Rome
by two hours, but deprives the traveler of
some of the most picturesque scenery on
the whole route, including the views of Pe-
rugia and Assisi. Of course the damage to
these and other cities along the old line is
incalculable, and they already show the ef-
fects of it; but, on the other hand, Orvieto
and Chiusi rejoice in the change. It is still
easy, however, by waiting a little, and
changing trains, to keep the old way.
Knowing the route already well, we
passed by, in the darkness, all these land-
marks without regret. There was light
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
163
enough to show us the outline of the islands
in Lake Thrasymene, and a cool breeze came
to us from its waters. Leaving the main
road at Terentola, it was not long before the
lights of Perugia came in sight, like a bea-
con on the distant hill-top. Behind the city
the first glimmer of dawn was lighting up
the sky, and the Pleiades hung low above
it. The freshness of the morning greeted
us as we alighted at the station, and we were
soon slowly zigzagging up the long ascent,
catching glimpses by the lamp-light of an
old building, or a curious arch, and think-
ing that every turn must be the last; but
still going on and up, even after the city
gate was reached.
After a few hours of rest, we were ready
to go out, impatient to behold the view
which darkness had concealed from us on
our arrival. But, much as we had expected.
from descriptions, and from the shadowy
outlines which we had been able to perceive,
the panorama that revealed itself to us as
we emerged from the main street to the Pi-
azza Vittorio Emanuele, situated on the
very brow of the cliff, surpassed our highest
anticipations. We were standing on a pla-
teau sixteen hundred feet above the sea, and
164
AT HOME IN ITALY.
at least one thousand feet above the valley
where the railway stretches like a dark rib-
bon through the green fields. The eye at
first hardly knows where to rest in the vast
sweep of plain and mountain thus suddenly
presented to it. The piazza faces the south.
On the right, close by, as it seems, is Monte-
malbe, a wooded hill which hides from view
Lake Thrasymene; and beyond an undulat-
ing country in the distance towards Siena
rise the cloud-like mountains of Amiata and
Radicofani. Southward the Tiber takes its
way through fair meadows, its course de-
fined by the trees that line its margin. The
dim outline of the Sabine Hills marks the
direction of Rome. On the left lies the
lovely valley of the Clitumnus,
"The sweetest wave
Of the most living crystal that was e'er
The haunt of river nymph."
Foligno, Spello, and other towns show
like white specks amid the green; and,
nearer, Assisi clings like a great gray lichen
to the side of Monte Subasio, above whose
brown and sterile mass appear in softest
blue the Apennine peaks. The foreground
is a garden, far gayer in hue than a Tuscan
landscape, for the pale olive does not pre-
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
165
dominate as there; the trees are of larger
size, and the grass is positively green.
These are the Umbrian pastures, whence
come the "white flocks" of Virgil, and the
great wide-horned, soft-eyed oxen, fit sacri-
fice to a god.
When we had gazed awhile on this pros-
pect, we began to wonder if the other half
of the circle could match it in beauty. We
turned back, passed through the city, and
up a short, steep ascent, and found ourselves
in a little open space, with tall buildings at
the back, and before us a parapet breast
high, built on the edge of a precipice, a hun-
dred feet or so below which stretch, to right
and left, two arms of the city, on two lower
hills, with an intervening valley. The spot
where we stood is the Porta Sole, and hence,
more plainly than from the piazza, we dis-
cerned Assisi and that
"Slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold
Are wafted through Perugia's eastern gate."
There was a billowy sea of verdure extend-
ing to the distant mountains; the country is
much more broken than on the other side;
indeed, as has been said, "there seems not
a hand's breadth of plain between you and
the Apennines," whose main chain is be-
166
AT HOME IN ITALY.
held extending from northwest to southeast
in irregular and striking forms. Monte
Catria, where Dante passed some months of
his exile, is one of the boldest of its peaks,
from whose summit both the Adriatic and
the Mediterranean are visible. The Abruzzi
range of mountains is on the right, and on
the left, nearer at hand, is Monte Tezio, be-
yond which lie Gubbio and the Duchy of Ur-
bino-tempting names to the student of
art or history. There are no finer or more
characteristic views in Italy than these two,
and they possess such variety of detail that
the eye never fails to find out some new
beauty in them, according to the season or
the hour.
One of our first desires in sight-seeing
was, of course, to behold the statue of Pope
Julius. We expected, according to Haw-
thorne, to find it in the middle of a great
square, overlooking the tumult of the crowd;
and were disappointed when we were di-
rected to a quiet little nook, at one end of
the cathedral, called the Piazza del Papa,
which was quite deserted, and so far from
the market-place that the echo of its hubbub
scarcely can stray up thither. On grand fête
days perhaps some life may overflow into
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
167
this tranquil place, but whenever I saw it
the Pope seemed very much to lack recip-
ients for his blessing. However, in the
statue itself we were not disappointed. The
countenance is at once firm and gentle, and
the attitude natural and dignified. One can
almost imagine, as Hawthorne says, "that
this benignly awful representative of divine
and human authority might rise from his
brazen chair should any great public emer-
gency demand his interposition, and encour-
age or restrain the people by his gesture,
or even by prophetic utterances worthy of
so grand a presence."
During our six weeks' stay in Perugia we
had time to gather up remembrances both
of artistic and natural beauty, which have
been an abiding pleasure. We sat for hours
before the masterpieces of Perugino, who
can only be truly known by his works in
this, his beloved city. All that he did here
was accomplished in his maturity or old age,
with riper method and less haste than in his
Florentine period. Raphael has left little
trace of his residence at Perugia; the only
remnant of his work which can be abso-
lutely known as authentic being a very
lovely, but much damaged fresco, in a little
168
AT HOME IN ITALY.
chapel adjoining a former monastery now
used as a school. Fortunately the city gov-
ernment has declined all offers of ambitious
artists to "restore" it, and the cartoons of
their proposed restorations are hung up in
the chapel in sufficiently ridiculous contrast
with the grandeur and simplicity of the origi-
nal, whose remains are well cared for, and not
likely to suffer from any other enemy than
time. Beneath this fresco, which Raphael
left unfinished, Perugino painted six saints,
thus completing the panel. Of the circum-
stances in which this was done, Bonazzi, in
his recent History of Perugia," gives this
account: "The old age of Perugino presents
a singular spectacle. In 1520, Raphael, his
good genius, died. That affectionate pupil,
who, in order to render homage to his mas-
ter, painted the Sposalizio della Vergine in
Perugino's manner; who refused to cover
up the work of the latter in the Sistine
Chapel; who scarcely ever drew his own
portrait in his larger compositions without
placing by its side that of Perugino, whose
placid features and good-humored expres-
sion were better portrayed than by Peru-
gino himself, that loving pupil had passed
away. How does Perugino, an old man of
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
169
seventy-five years, bear his loss? It is long
since he has worked in fresco, on account
of failing health and eyesight, but he un-
dertakes to complete the work which Ra-
phael had begun in 1515; and whilst below
those figures which his scholar had traced
when a youth, the solitary old man paints,
his touch becoming ever and anon tremu-
lous, it is as well emotion as old age which
makes his hand unsteady. Far from cred-
iting the envious design which Quatremaine
attributes to him, we believe that he la-
bored to render homage to his pupil; to be
alone in spirit with that beloved one, the
remembrance of whom shut out the mem-
ory of the wrongs he had suffered and car-
ried him back to the blessed days spent in
his companionship."
There were formerly a few other paint-
ings by Raphael in Perugia, but they have
all either been carried off by the French or
sold by the impoverished owners, to whom
their money value was too strong a tempta-
tion to be resisted. The Jesus and John at
the church of San Pietro, claimed to be a
copy from Perugino by Raphael, is of very
doubtful authenticity, though it is certainly
Raphaelesque in coloring.
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AT HOME IN ITALY:
There is no more charming spot in Peru-
gia than this old church of San Pietro in
which to loiter away a summer afternoon.
The full rays of sunlight illumine the inte-
rior, and bring out every tint of the old
paintings, but have no power to penetrate
with heat those massive walls. A few
priests are drowsily intoning vespers in the
choir; here and there a friar or a village
priest, whose robe shows that he has come
up from a long and dusty pilgrimage, fol-
lows the service with irrepressible glances
at the wonders of art by which he is sur-
rounded. There is enough to wonder at,
for on these walls are congregated the works
of Perugino, Guido Reni, Alfani, Vasari,
Sassoferrato, Lo Spagna, Parmegiano, and
many others. While the other churches of
Perugia have, with doubtful advantage to
art, been stripped of their treasures to form
a picture gallery, San Pietro has been for-
tunate enough to retain its own. It is also
rich in wood-work, the sixty choir stalls
being most exquisitely carved in walnut,
each with a separate design, after drawings
by Raphael. There is curious inlaid work,
mosaics of the fourteenth and fifteenth cen-
turies, and illuminated missals of great
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
171
beauty. From the extremity of the choir
a door opens upon a balcony, and the cus-
tode told us to step back and look at the
view through the dark frame of the door-
way. It was indeed a contrast to the sol-
emn-toned pictures in the church, a
glorious prospect of the sun-steeped plain,
with Assisi and its mountain, and the blue
breadths of shadow on the Apennines, and
the bluer sky above.
A curious feature of the architecture of
the medieval period in Perugia is the arch-
way frequently connecting houses on oppo-
site sides of the street. It was designed to
afford support to the high buildings against
winds and earthquakes. Certainly, Perugia
might, with even greater reason than Siena,
be called "The City of the Winds." Even
in the summer noons, as one lounges be-
neath the colonnades of the prefecture, or
seats himself under the locust trees at Porta
Sole, the wind blows fresh and almost chill-
ing from the surrounding hills, although the
plain below is parched and breathless in
the heat. And often, after days of blazing
August weather, the clouds will come driv-
ing up the valley of the Tiber, the sun is
hidden in a moment, there is a sharp burst.
172
AT HOME IN ITALY.
of hail and rain with thunder and lightning
and in half an hour the storm has passed,
the sun is out again, and there is a rain-
bow against the mountains. Graziani often
mentions in his chronicle the terrible storms
(burrascas) with which the city has been
visited, the thunderbolts falling sometimes
in a dozen places within the walls. Even
Bonazzi, whom we have already quoted,
admits that the climate " is somewhat rough
and irritating, even in summer, to weak
lungs and sensitive throats; " but it is also,
as he truly says, so pure as to be most effi-
cacious in dissipating all sorts of miasmatic
influences. Sufferers from Roman and other
malarial fevers often find immediate relief
at Perugia, and the cholera is not known to
have ever visited it. As a place for summer
rest, it has its advantages, in the many
treasures of artistic and historical interest
within easy access; in its good library, and
comfortable hotels, and the facilities for
temporary housekeeping in its old palaces;
but it has also the drawback of having no
drives except up and down the steep hill
and on the dusty plain below. There are
no cabs, and carriages are excessively dear.
The walks outside the walls are fatiguing,
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
173
for the same reason of situation, and even
within the city there is scarcely any level
ground.
It had surprised us as we first entered
Perugia, between two and three o'clock in
the morning, to see such a stir of life in the
city at that hour. The streets were by no
means empty, and in many houses there
were lights and signs of movement, and we
afterwards came to the conclusion that the
Perugians were a sleepless race, and could
well understand their being described in
history as "exceedingly vivacious." Haw-
thorne says that "
more words are wasted in
Perugia on one market-day than the noisiest
piazza of Rome would utter in a month;
and it was certainly most amazing how one
species of noise was made to succeed another
for the whole twenty-four hours. Besides
the ordinary bustle of traffic, the game of
"morra" was continually going on in by-
ways and cafés; there was a stable on the
lower floor of every palace, and the horses
seemed to share the restless mood of the
people; fowls were kept in the attics and
balconies, where they could not fail to give
notice of the moonrise and the dawn; and
the great bell of the city hall was, by a time-
174
AT HOME IN ITALY.
honored custom, rung lustily at midnight as
a signal for the closing of restaurants and
theatres.
I never knew a quarter of an hour of con-
tinuous quiet by night during the six weeks
I spent in Perugia; it was our padrone's
habit to return home at midnight, and the
padrona's to take her morning walk at four
o'clock, of both which occurrences the
lodgers were made sufficiently aware. When
nothing else was going on there was always
a wakeful young man who gave us the ben-
efit of his repertoire of opera-songs; and
the boy who harnessed the horses in the
stable beneath us to go to the station at
half-past two A. M. seemed to need a great
deal of whistling to keep his courage up;
which I could not blame him for, consider-
ing what a gloomy, musty, ghostly old build-
ing it was. The clatter of tongues by day
I cannot begin to describe; and the work-
ers at different noisy trades seemed to take
pleasure in making all the clangor they
could. The blacksmith beat his iron as if
he loved the sound; the tinner hammered
with mighty strokes; at the post-office the
letters were stamped with a fury that left
a great splash of ink on the post-mark, and
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
175
even the corks at the beer shops opposite
popped like champagne. The pleasantest
thing in this Babel was the occasional ad-
vent of a couple of traveling singers, who,
according to a custom not yet superannu-
ated in the smaller cities and towns of Italy,
journey hither and thither singing for their
bread. These are usually a man and
woman, one or the other, very likely, blind,
who step quietly into the midst of the
crowd on a market-day or a Sunday, and
suddenly lift up their voices, without invita-
tion, in some ballad which is sure to find
ready listeners. They generally take the
verses alternately as solos, joining their
voices in the chorus. When they have fin-
ished, they distribute printed copies of what
they have sung amid their audience, who
seldom fail to buy and call for more.
There is something strangely pathetic in
the airs to which these ballads, mostly sim-
ple tales of love and loss, are sung, and the
voices are sympathetic if a little worn.
The situation of Perugia is most pictur-
esque. Built on the summit of a hill, and
stretching long arms half way down its
sides, overhanging the beautiful valley and
commanding one of the most extensive and
4
7
176
AT HOME IN ITAL Y.
1
:
varied prospects in Italy, it has a majestic
and somewhat solemn aspect, even from the
plain, which a nearer view only increases.
The antiquity of almost all the buildings,
the ancient arches, the crooked, dim lanes
that, with the exception of one or two of the
principal thoroughfares, answer the purpose
of streets, and most of which are so steep as
to be impassable for carriages, the vestiges
of past prosperity that everywhere meet the
eye, give to the old town a grim appearance
which needs the bright sunshine to make it
at all endurable. One can well realize that
it was famous in olden times as a thorn in
the side of its conquerors, and that it again.
and again asserted its independence before
it could be permanently subjected to the
power of Rome. “The Perugians," says an
ancient writer, "are the most obstinate set
of men I ever encountered."
Perugia was one of the most prominent
cities in the Etruscan league. When Rome
became a power, it shared the fate of its sis-
ter cities, but was never a docile victim; and
the fierce and resolute character of the peo-
ple caused the struggle to be often renewed.
Its position, too, was favorable to resistance.
It did not lie upon any of the three great
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
177
highways which led northward from Rome;
the Via Cassia, the middle route and the
nearest of the three, passed it at Chiusi,
forty miles to the west. And the aspect of
the city to a besieging army could not have
been encouraging, the besieged having every
opportunity to receive warning of an attack
and to annoy those who undertook to scale
their mountain fortress. Hannibal did not
venture to attack Perugia after his victory
at Lake Thrasymene, although many Ro-
mans were received and sheltered there af-
ter that disastrous day. In later times To-
tila with his army did not think seven years
too long to spend in securing it as his prize.
The descendants of these old Perugians
inherited the same spirit, as the feuds and
achievements of the Baglioni family and
others will testify. They were as energetic
in rejoicing and mourning, too, as in war,
and their punishments were of the sternest
kind. "January 9, 1491," says an old Peru-
gian chronicler, Graziani, " Luca de Mastro
Agnolo de Porta was brought to justice for
having made false contracts, and he had his
tongue and his hands cut off." "For the
Podestà," adds Graziani, "was a terrible
man." He had burned a refractory priest
12
178
AT HOME IN ITALY.
not long before." Close upon this record fol-
lows an account of a wedding. February
66
5, 1491, Gostantino de Rugiero dei Ranieri
took a wife, the daughter of Signor Rannuc-
cio da Farnese, and the wedding was quite
a fine affair, over sixty ladies and gentlemen
being invited; and the women and the bride
went with dancing to the Prior's palace and
back again home. This was on Sunday, and
the same was done on Monday, and Tuesday
there was a tournament, and the victor had
twelve braccia of blue velvet, and more than
one hundred lances were broken, the Count
Guido of Urbino being present."
One of the Baglioni having died, as was
supposed, by poison, away from home, when
his body was brought to Perugia many lords
and ladies went forth outside the gates to
meet it, the women with disheveled hair,
and all making loud lamentation. A great
snow-storm deferred the obsequies for five
days, but at last they took place with no
little pomp. There was a catafalque five
feet high, with banners and streamers and
standards; a high mass and a wonderful
procession in which all the members of the
bereaved family appeared on horseback, car-
rying the standards of the different towns
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA. 179
under the jurisdiction of the deceased. With
them were the religious orders of the city,
and representations of all the noble families,
and the procession went about all the prin-
cipal streets of the city with weeping and
wailing. Poisons, by the way, were a fruit-
ful source of revenue to the Perugian chem-
ists, who were reputed to be particularly
skillful in their preparation. The "Ac-
quetta di Perugia" was a favorite quieting
draught in Italy, for enemies, or friends who
knew too much.
The modern political history of Perugia
has not been without its dramatic incidents.
From the time when the Baglioni surren-
dered to Pope Julius II. down to the latest
days of papal rule, the city was full of dis-
content and often in revolt. Even as late
as 1859 there was a massacre in Perugia,
which is still fresh in the memory of many
a bereaved family, and the recital of which
fills the listener with horror. The people,
desirous to place themselves under the rule
of Victor Emanuel, had revolted from the
Pope, and established a provisional govern-
ment. But the moment was ill chosen ;
800 of the young men of Perugia were fight-
ing the Austrians on the plains of Lom-
180
AT HOME IN ITALY.
bardy, and the leaders of the movement had
not counted the cost. Pius IX. sent his
mercenaries at once with orders to quell the
rebellion, and they, irritated by the impru-
dent zeal of a few citizens who fired upon
them as they entered the city, rushed
through the streets, entering and pillaging
houses, and killing their inmates, many of
whom had taken no part in the insurrection.
Some shots had been fired from the roof of
a hotel; the soldiers in revenge shot the
landlord, the hostler, and another man; and
a family of Americans staying in the house
were for three hours in instant expectation
of being murdered, a fate only averted by
the pity and courage of one of the Swiss
soldiers, who guarded the entrance to the
closet where they had taken refuge. In all,
twenty-three men and four women fell vic-
tims to the tender mercies of the Holy Fa-
ther's troops.
The Etruscan remains of Perugia are few,
owing partly to the great fire which, in the
year 1841, destroyed almost the whole city.
Enough of the ancient walls, however, still
exist to show the manner in which the Etrus-
cans built, the immense blocks of stone
being put together without cement. A few
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
181
In-
miles outside of the city, in 1840, some la-
borers plowing in a field were astonished to
see the oxen sink down into the earth.
vestigation proved that they had broken
through the roof of an Etruscan tomb, which
was speedily uncovered, and found to consist
of ten chambers, and to be full of stone cof-
fins, ornaments, lamps, drinking vessels, and
all the paraphernalia of pagan obsequies, in
perfect preservation. Most of the coffins
have been removed and opened, and many
curious objects found in them, which are
exhibited at the University museum; and
a visit to the tombs themselves is one of the
most interesting of the excursions about the
city. Among the principal treasures of that
museum are the Etruscan inscriptions which
have been discovered in great numbers in
the neighborhood of the city. One of them
is the largest on record, consisting of forty-
five lines. But its meaning, and even its
subject, still remains undetermined, even
after the investigations of the best author-
ities on Etruscan subjects. One is offered
quantities of "Etruscan relics," such as
bronze idols and stone spear heads, all over
the city, but it is well to doubt their genu-
ineness. Of the Roman rule in Perugia
182
AT HOME IN ITALY.
there are abundant memorials. In fact, one
feels that a thousand years is but a little
space in history, as one recalls the past of
this ancient city (yet not so ancient as some
of its neighbors), which was growing old be-
fore Rome was born! One almost wonders,
after straying through the older portions of
the city, to come out into the Corso, the
principal street of the modern city, and find
the evidences of contemporary civilization.
A sewing-machine in Perugia seemed an
anomaly, and gas-lamps a satire. The city,
however, is by no means behindhand in the
risorgimento of Italy. When Victor Eman-
uel was proclaimed King of Italy his reign
was welcomed almost unanimously by the
people of Perugia, as is recorded on the
marble slab upon one of the palaces in the
Corso. Willing hands tore down the for-
tress which Pope Paul III., under pretense of
building a hospital, had erected on the most
beautiful spot within the city limits, and
many a prisoner rejoiced that the long night-
mare of papal tyranny was over. Freedom
of religious thought, also, is making prog-
ress there, thanks to the beneficent toler-
ation of the Italian government. There is
a "Chiesa Evangelica Libera" in Perugia,
under the care of the American Methodist
SUMMER DAYS IN PERUGIA.
183
Episcopal Church (of which Dr. Vernon of
Rome is the representative in Italy), and
its notices of public worship are placarded
as freely as could be done in America. We
went one evening to this church. We found
a room prettily fitted up as a chapel, an
audience of fifty or sixty, a good preacher,
and hearty singing. A lady, who appeared
to be seventy years old, presided at the lit-
tle organ, and it was noticeable that the
larger part of the congregation were people
past middle life.
The beautiful Palazzo Comunale of the
thirteenth century has been terribly injured
by modern Vandals. Many of its fine
Gothic windows have been bricked up, and
others of smaller dimensions (with wooden
blinds attached) cut in various places. If
the Italian government could only be per-
suaded to keep their old buildings as treas-
ures, and not use them for business purposes,
to the great damage of the buildings and the
discomfort of the employees, it would be a
boon to art. The Palazzo Vecchio in Flor-
ence, which is full of artistic and historical
significance, is being ruined by occupation
for official purposes, when any of the newer
palaces which surround it would be infinitely
more convenient.
1
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
THE Baths of Lucca have had a wider
fame than any other watering-place in Italy.
The stranger, knowing that they have been
frequented both in ancient and modern
times by the royalty and aristocracy of
Europe, naturally expects to find here a sort
of miniature metropolis, with elegant private
residences and palatial hotels - a Baden
Baden, or at least a Saratoga. What is his
surprise as, after having had time to indulge
anticipation during the long drive from the
city of Lucca, by the windings of the Ser-
chio, an abrupt turn to the right discloses a
still narrower valley with a rushing stream
at the bottom, a line of common - place
houses on either side, and the hills rising
close behind; and he is told that he has
reached his destination. He could believe
himself in New England, such is the prosaic
character of the scene as it first presents it-
self, and in the absence of almost all the
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
185
usual picturesque elements of an Italian vil-
lage. Here are no palaces, no busy streets,
no magnificent avenues, but a small cluster
of houses and shops, with four or five plain,
substantial looking hotels, destitute of piaz-
zas or ornamental grounds; and mountain
paths and natural groves, instead of parks
and promenades.
But if the first impression is disappointing
as to the artificial attractions of the place,
there is a compensating surprise in its natu-
ral loveliness. The eye grown weary of the
melancholy beauty of the olive and the cy-
press and the pine, which give the prevail-
ing character to the landscape in southern
Italy, here greets with delight the vivid
green of the chestnut and the locust, and
the tender tints of the ferns and heather.
The hills are wooded to their very tops; the
soil is not parched and volcanic, but clothed
with grass and bright with flowers. The
rocks are moist and dark with the trick-
ling of innumerable streamlets; the sweet
scent of the box hedges is in the air; and
the Lima's rushing sound fills the summer
noon with suggestions of coolness. The
healthfulness of this valley is undoubtedly
owing in great part to the influence of this
186
AT HOME IN ITALY.
rapid stream, which keeps up a current of
fresh air through the narrow gorge. That
it is healthful the local records attest, the
mortality varying from one and a half to
two per cent. annually, in a population of
10,660.
The mineral waters of this valley are be-
lieved to have been known to the ancient
Romans, but the oldest authentic document
existing in regard to the baths bears the date.
of 1291, at which time, it appears, there ex-
isted an association which had control of the
springs, and granted land for the construc-
tion of a hospital in their vicinity. In the
fifteenth century, Ugolino di Montecatino
records some marvelous cures effected by
these waters, especially in cases of gout and
paralysis. Among others, he tells of a cer-
tain Pietro da Giovanni, "one of the first
artists of Florence," who had suffered for a
long time with gout and ulcerated joints, so
that he could not move his limbs. He was
brought hither, and after the second immer-
sion was able to walk a few steps with help,
and three weeks later returned on horseback,
completely cured, to Florence. Guiliano di
Medici, third son of Lorenzo the Magnifi-
cent, who was sent here in 1514, was not so
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
187
fortunate; the waters had little effect upon
his ailments, which soon terminated his life.
From this epoch down there is a long list
of dignitaries of church and state who
sought relief here. The Duchess of Mantua,
Eleonora Gonzaga, the princes of Savoy and
of Este, Montaigne, and other celebrated
foreigners, are among the number. In 1796,
Josephine Beauharnais, then just become
the wife of General Bonaparte, came hither
intending to pass the whole summer, but in
fact remained only one day at the city of
Lucca and a few hours at the baths, greatly
to the chagrin of the Lucchese, who had
made many preparations for her entertain-
ment. In 1805, Napoleon gave the terri-
tory of Lucca to his sister Elisa, wife of
Prince Baciocchi, and it was during her nine
years' administration (for she was the real
ruler, her husband caring for little except
music and the pleasures of the table) that
the present excellent road from Lucca to the
baths, a distance of fifteen miles, was con-
structed. Previous to that time access to
them was only to be had by a rough moun-
tain path, which it took a whole day to trav-
The princess maintained a gay court
in summer at the baths, and rendered them
erse.
188
AT HOME IN ITALY.
fashionable by inducing her own family and
friends to frequent them. The "Via Leti-
zia" was named for her mother, and there
are many souvenirs of her reign in the im-
provements which she made in this part of
her kingdom, where she is still affectionately
spoken of. But those who wept with her
when she departed, a fugitive, on a March
morning of 1814,—her flight being hastened
by Bentinck's threat, "Tell that woman if
she does not fly I will seize her!"
were
ready to receive with open arms that branch
of the Bourbons to whom, after a short oc-
cupation by the Neapolitans and Austrians,
Lucca was assigned,Maria Louisa of Spain,
"Queen of Etruria," and her son, Carlo Lo-
dovico, Duke of Parma. The former closed
her life of vicissitudes in 1824, and Carlo
Lodovico governed Lucca with a policy
which, if narrow, was at least humane, till
his restoration to his own duchy of Parma
on the death of Napoleon's widow. The
duke had several villas in the neighborhood
of the baths, besides the one at Corsena,
and both he and his amiable duchess spent
much time here. In 1847 he retired to
Parma; Lucca was added to the domains
of Leopold II. of Tuscany, and in 1861 en-
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
189
tered into the new kingdom of Italy. In
consequence of these repeated changes of
government during the present century, the
members of many royal houses have come
to the baths of Lucca in search of pleasure
or of health.
Victor Emanuel I. of Sardinia, the Queen
of Naples, the ex-King of Holland, Louis
Bonaparte, Frederic Augustus of Saxony,
and the widow of Charles Albert of Sar-
dinia, not to speak of minor notabilities,
have spent more or less time in this delight-
ful region, where doubtless retirement and
freedom from court ceremonials contributed
equally with the waters to assuage their
ills.
·
The springs issue from the sides of a con-
ical hill called the Colle, which rises ab-
ruptly from the right bank of the Lima to
the height of eight or nine hundred feet.
The rock whence they flow is a tertiary
sandstone. There are twelve principal
sources besides a number of smaller ones, all
situated within a tract half a mile square
near the base of the hill. They are impreg-
nated chiefly with sulphate of lime and
magnesia. The following is the chemical
analysis:-
•
190
AT HOME IN ITALY.
NAMES OF THE DIFFERENT BATHS AND SPRINGS.
CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF THE WATERS BY PROF. EMILIO BECHI.
Docce Basse.
!

Bagno alla Villa.
San Giovanni.
Trastul-
lina.
Disperata.
Rossa.
Bagno Cardinali.
doff.
Ospedale Demi-
Temperature centigrade
thermometer, plus
•
383
41
42.5
42
35
36.5
36.33
40.25
38
39
36.5
46
37
Specific weight at plus 4
gr. cent.
1.0036
1.00305
1.00301 1.0030 1.0029
1.00266
1.00099
1.0026 | 1.0025
1.0022
1.00301.00215
D
Chloride of sodium. .
0.084
0.117
Chloride of magnesia
0.272
0.229
0.207 0.184 0.168
0.182
0.080
0.044
0.061 0.184
0.038
0.212
1.102
0.205 0.201
0.265
0.083
0.218
0.138
0.209
0.221
0.189
Carb. of lime
0.015
0.015 0.010
0.035 0.010 0.030
0.045
0.005
0.010
0.025
0.025
0.020
Sulphate of soda
0.932
Sulphate of lime
Sulphate of potassium
Sulphate
1.478 1.226 1.297 1.366
1.760 1.495 1.437
0.024 0.024 0.015
trace
1.256
0.362
1.104
1.074
0.974
1.155
0.763
1.427 1.309 1.297
0.015 0.011 0.015
0.543
1.238 1.102
1.046 1.423
1.420
0.000
0.009 0.011
0.011
0.023 0.007
Silex
3.087 3.058 3.077
3.163 3.065 2.943
1.077
2.635 2.519
2.303
3.059 2.501
Maritata.
Coronale.
Bagno Caldo.
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
191
The waters are used internally and exter-
nally, but principally the latter. The bath-
houses are fitted up with conveniences for
applying the water to the parts diseased,
and with every comfort for invalids in the
way of accessories and attendance, and the
prices are so moderate as to bring the use of
the waters within the reach of all except
those in absolute destitution. For the lat-
ter there is the Demidoff Hospital, a large
building erected by the Russian prince of
that name, who has a fine villa near Flor-
ence, and is known to be interested in every
good work in Tuscany. The waters main-
tain their ancient reputation for the cure or
amelioration of arthritic and eruptive dis-
eases, and are resorted to by large numbers
of foreigners as well as Italians. The" sea-
son commences with the middle of May
and lasts till the first of October, or longer
if the weather continues mild, twenty-five
to thirty baths being generally prescribed as
""
a course.
There are three groups of baths; the first,
as you approach from Lucca, being at the
village of Ponte a Serraglio, a busy little
place when its four or five hotels and the
surrounding private houses are filled with
192
AT HOME IN ITALY.
visitors. Two of the hotels, the Europa
and America, with several dépendances, were
built by Pietro Pagnini, a soldier under the
first Napoleon and one of the Legion of Hon-
or, who is still living at an advanced age;
and they are continued by his descendants.
Another, the New York, is kept by Sig.
Pera, the former chef of the Duke of Lucca.
All are first-class hotels, simple in furnish-
ings, but abundant and excellent as to the
cuisine; and the same may be said of the
hotels at the other village. The Casino
Reale, or club-house, is at the Ponte a Ser-
raglio; it contains a large parlor for dan-
cing, with reading and billiard rooms; just
above it is the bath-house of the Bernabo
Springs, and near by the Docce Basse and
the Demidoff Hospital. A good road leads
in zigzags up the hill of Colle to the Bagni
Caldi, situated some 500 feet above the
Docce Basse. Here is another cluster of
houses, but no hotels; the view is charming
and the air dryer than at the other baths.
These are, as the name denotes, the warm-
est of the springs; in one of them the mer-
cury stands at 136° Fahrenheit, and the va-
por baths are specially efficacious for chronic
rheumatic affections. Here Dr. Carina,
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
193
1
the medical director of the baths, has his
residence. He is not only a physician of
ability and experience, but an ardent anti-
quarian and naturalist, and has written much
in regard to the productions and history of
this region.
The Bagni alla Villa are situated about
half a mile up the river from the Ponte a
Serraglio, close to the village of Corsena.
They take their appellation from the ducal
villa, which stands a little above the village
on the hillside near the springs. It is a large,
plain, brick building, painted a bluish gray,
and without any attempt at ornament, but
commands a fine view. It is now empty.
The house of Mr. Macbean, English consul
at Leghorn, occupies an equally good posi-
tion; it is an old Italian mansion rebuilt, so
far as possible, in English modern style.
Here are more hotels and lodging houses,
and close by is the English church, an ugly
building, containing an audience room pret-
tily fitted up, but whose usefulness is greatly
impaired by its acoustic defects; and also a
large and pleasant apartment for the resi
dent clergyman. The road between the two
villages is the favorite walk and drive; it
runs along the high bank of the Lima, and
15
194
AT HOME IN ITALY.
is well shaded by the interlocking branches
of large plane-trees.
This narrow valley has four hours less
sunlight than the neighboring heights.
There is time in the summer mornings for
an early riser to take a long ramble before
the sun peeps over the eastern hills; and by
five o'clock in the afternoon the valley is
again in shadow. It is from that hour un-
til late in the evening that the baths present
their liveliest aspect. The roads are alive
with all sorts of equipages, from the elegant
carriage of the Lucchese noble to the spring-
less calessino of the peasant; and the moun-
tain paths are full of pleasure-seekers on
foot, or riding the pretty little mouse-colored
donkeys of this region. The cafés overflow
into the square, where groups of people eat
ices and smoke, and watch the passers-by;
and there is generally an itinerant minstrel
or an acrobat or a juggler ready to amuse
the easily-diverted crowd. And in the back-
ground, here and there, will be a silent, pale,
eager-eyed contadino from some mountain
hamlet where the harvests have failed for
the last few years, and the people have had
to take their choice between hunger at home
and fever in the Maremma. To him this
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
195
careless, well-fed, laughing lower world must
seem like a sarcasm on the want-pinched
faces and bare homes whence he has come.
There are plenty of excursions in the
neighborhood of the baths, and their variety
is suited to all degrees of endurance. The
Alpine Club has established a few "refuges "
on the higher Tuscan Apennines, and prac-
ticed climbers will find much to enjoy, though
few perils to encounter, except in case of
storm on these heights, of which Monte
Rondinaio, 5,979 feet above the sea-level, is
the most elevated. The less ambitious will
thoroughly enjoy a trip to Abetone, Bosco-
lungo, or the Prato Fiorito. The last is a
favorite excursion for a summer's day, being
only five miles from the baths, and offering
great attractions to botanists. This "flowery
meadow" is situated on the western slope
of the Montagna delle Celle, nearly 4,000
feet high, and is covered with the most lux-
uriant vegetation, and brilliant with blos-
soms during the spring and early summer;
a perfect garden in the wilderness; while
the eastern side of the mountain is an almost
perpendicular, rocky precipice, on which no
herb can grow. The old watch-tower of
Bargilio, on the mountain of that name, is a
Uor M
196
AT HOME IN ITALY.
conspicuous object in the view from the
baths of Lucca. It stands on a bare peak,
less than three thousand feet high, but so
situated as to command a view of the whole
territory of Lucca as well as of the Medi-
terranean as far as Corsica.
The ancient town of Barga, formerly the
chef-lieu of all this district, and famous in
local history for the sieges successfully re-
sisted, is accessible by a good carriage road,
and is well worth a visit for the sake of the
fine view from the eminence on which the
cathedral stands, and also for the terra-cotta
works of art in its churches, some of which,
though supposed to be by Andrea della
Robbia, are beautiful enough to have been
done by his more famous brother Luca. The
following bit of description, from a very in-
teresting sketch of Barga by Madame Linda
Villari, will give an idea of its romantic
situation:"Perched on the southern spur
of Monte Romeccio, itself an outwork of
the Garfaguana Apennines which divide
Tuscany from Lombardy, Barga commands
a vast extent of the lovely valley of the Ser-
chio, and faces that great majestic moun-
tain, the Pania alla Croce, and the pano-
rama of the northern flanks of the Serra-
Maou
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
197
vezza and Carrara ridges. The great dome
of the Pania towers above all the other
peaks, and although of no tremendous al-
titude, — being only seven thousand feet
above the sea level, is very grand in out-
line and effect. To the left is the fantastic
Monte Forato, pierced by a natural arch.
The opening is near the summit of the pin-
nacle, and seen from the terrace of Barga
cathedral, might be a stray half-moon caught
in its fall from the sky. It is said that one
day of the year the sun sets immediately
behind the arch, which then yawns like the
portal of a world of flame. And if we
lower our gaze from the noble line of peaks
to where the Serchio valley is barricaded by
the mighty hills walling it in from north-
ern Italy, the eye rests on the loveliest de-
tails of Italian landscape."
We went up, one August evening, to see
the sunset from Lugliano, a village on the
heights above the Lima valley, and over-
hanging it so steeply that it seems as if a
stone dropped from the houses above would
plash into the river. The path wound up
through the chestnut forests, - a stony
mule-path, for no wheeled vehicle can ap-
proach these mountain villages,—and came
1
198
AT HOME IN ITALY.
out upon a plateau to which the rough stone
dwellings seem to cling, each flanked by
its little patch of garden and vineyard on
the slope. On this, one of the lowest of
the foot-hills of the Apennines, we seemed
to be in the midst of a great congregation
of mountains, some gay, some solemn, some
half-hidden in misty veils. The sharp out-
lines of the marble mountains of Carrara
stood out against the sunset, and the watch-
tower of Bargilio was dark against the
southern sky, while at our feet the Lima
rushed out from an opening in the hills, and
after two graceful curves disappeared again
among their depths. In singular contrast
to this mountain prospect, an open gate in
a high stone wall showed us a trim Italian
garden, with its bit of lawn, box-bordered
alleys, and miniature labyrinth; and in the
midst a great ash-tree formed a bower.
Here was the villa of a Lucchese family, a
special dwelling, making the poor village
houses look poorer still.
The hill-folk are simple and courteous in
their ways, and not lacking in intelligence
and humor. Some of the young women
have really beautiful features and all are
erect and full developed, perhaps from their
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE. 199
habit of carrying the heavy water vessels
and other burdens on their heads instead of
on their backs. They show at present the
effect of scanty nourishment; the chestnut
crop, upon which they chiefly depend for
food, having been poorer than usual during
the last two years. In the fifteenth century,
Paolo Guinigi, then lord of Lucca, offered
premiums for the planting of chestnut-trees;
and now every family estimates its wealth
by the size and productiveness of its patch
of chestnut forest. The fruit is ripe in Oc-
tober; it is as large as that of the Ameri-
can horse-chestnut, sweet, but coarse in
grain; it is dried in smoke, shelled, and
ground into a fine, heavy flour, which, made
into cakes with water and wrapped in dry
chestnut leaves, is baked between hot
stones. White or even brown wheaten
bread is a luxury with these people, meat is
eaten only on Sundays and festas, and not
always, alas! then. Either in going to or
returning from the baths, the traveler should
spend at least a day in the city of Lucca,
which is full of interesting monuments. It
once merited the title of "Gloriosa civitas
Lucca," but has now sunk into the stagna-
tion of Italian third-class cities, and it is
200
AT HOME IN ITALY.
difficult, in the midst of these silent streets
and dilapidated palaces, to imagine the full-
ness of life and warlike enterprise which
pervaded them in medieval days. "In the
thirteenth century," says a historian, "Lucca
boasted three hundred towers within her
walls; every little while her streets and
squares became fields of battle; a dispute
between two families was enough to make
much blood flow; there was neither quiet
in the city nor safety in the open coun-
try." Once, during a tumult between the
nobles and the people, the former had to
take refuge in the cathedral, and the mob
kept them besieged there, till at length the
priests, issuing forth with the cross and the
holy relics, succeeded in making peace. At
another time the city would be under the
papal interdict for some insult to the Holy
See, and then the silence of spiritual desola-
tion would hang over it. At such times the
bells were mute, the sacred emblems hidden
away in the crypts of the churches, and the
priests clothed in mourning vestments; bap-
tism was administered in private, marriages
were solemnized upon the graves in the
churchyard, and the viaticum was carried as
by stealth to the dying: and yet, amid these
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
201
stormy times, in a state of things difficult
to conceive of as favorable to any peaceful
occupations, "Lucca l'industriosa" became
rich and prosperous. At this epoch the ca-
thedral, originally built in the eleventh cen-
tury, received its present elaborate façade,
and other embellishments. To it were
brought tributes from the warrior nobles, of
pictures and columns and statues and vo-
tive lamps, till, even though much has been
carried away, it is still a museum of curious
and beautiful things. The cross of Pisa,
wrought in silver gilt, which was carried off
as a trophy by the Lucchese, is preserved
here, and also the "Altar of Liberty," re-
covered in 1369 from the Emperor Charles
IV. Hither in 1325 came Castruccio Cas-
tracani, the hero of Lucca, with a solemn
procession, including thirty thousand pris-
oners, to give thanks before the shrine of
the "Volto Santo" for his victory over
the Florentine army at Altopascio. This
"Volto Santo" is the chief treasure of the
cathedral. It is a crucifix of cedar, said to
have been carved by Nicodemus and to
have been transported by angels from the
Holy Land to Lucca in the year 1182. It
is kept concealed in a shrine within a min-
202
AT HOME IN ITALY.
iature temple of octagonal form in the nave
of the church, but is paraded in procession
three times a year. On the outside of the
shrine, however, is a copy, an ugly black
image, visible through the gilded lattice-
work of the temple, which is constantly
surrounded by devout worshipers.
There are some fine pictures in the ca-
thedral: a Last Supper by Tintoretto, a
Nativity and Crucifixion by Passignano, a
very beautiful small picture of S. Petro-
nilla by Daniele da Volterra, and a Virgin
and Child with saints, by Fra Bartolom-
meo. The pulpit and most of the monu-
mental sculpture are by Matteo Civitali,
Lucca's greatest artist. But the most beau-
tiful statue in the church, and one of the
most interesting objects, is that of Ilaria,
wife of Paolo Guinigi, the work of Jacopo
della Quercia. Ruskin's admiration of it
will hardly seem exaggerated to those who
have beheld it: "I name it not as more
beautiful and perfect than other examples
of the same period, but as furnishing an in-
stance of the exact and right mean between
the rigidity and rudeness of the earlier mon-
umental effigies and the morbid imitation
of life, sleep, or death, of which the fashion
*
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
203
has taken place in modern times. She is
lying on a simple couch, with a hound at
her feet" (the emblem of conjugal fidelity),
"not on the side, but with the head laid
straight and simply on the hard pillow, in
which, let it be observed, there is no effort
at deceptive imitation of pressure. It is un-
derstood as a pillow, but not mistaken for
one. The hair is bound in a flat braid over
the fair brow, the sweet and arched eyes are
closed, the tenderness of the loving lips is set
and quiet; there is that about them which
forbids breath, something which is neither
death nor sleep, but the pure image of both.
The hands are not lifted in prayer, neither
folded, but the arms are laid at length upon
the body, and the hands cross as they fall.
The feet are hidden by the drapery, and the
forms of the limbs concealed, but not their
tenderness. If any of us, after staying for a
time beside this tomb, could see through his
tears one of the vain and unkind incum-
brances of the grave which, in these hollow
and heartless days, feigned sorrow builds
to foolish pride, he would, I believe, receive
such a lesson of love as no coldness could
refuse, no fatuity forget, and no insolence
disobey."
204
AT HOME IN ITALY.
We have lingered so long in this wonder-
ful old building, that we must pass hastily
over what remains to be seen in Lucca. S.
Frediano, a basilica of the,seventh century,
has a façade in mosaics of the twelfth cen-
tury, and a front of the eleventh, with curi-
ous bas-reliefs; there are some frescoes of
Aspertini's, and a Coronation of the Virgin
by Francia. The church of S. Michele has
an imposing, but not altogether pleasing fa-
çade of white marble with a multiplicity of
columns, and surmounted by a colossal statue
of the patron saint. This edifice was com-
menced by Teutprandus and his wife Gum-
pranda in the eighth century, but the façade
belongs to the latter part of the twelfth.
The gallery of paintings established in the
old Palazzo della Signoria is of course among
the chief attractions of the city, and it con-
tains a few really fine paintings. Fra Bar-
tolommeo, Tintoretto, Titian, Andrea del
Sarto, and Paul Veronese are all repre-
sented here, and the full length figures of
S. Biagio and S. Eustachio, in Vasari's best
manner, must not be omitted in the list.
There are immense art treasures hidden
away in the palaces belonging to the old
families of Lucca. A few years ago an ex-
AN ITALIAN WATERING-PLACE.
205
hibition of art and industry was held in the
Mansi palace, which gave to the public a
view of some of these, which were loaned
for the occasion by their owners. The re-
sult was astonishing even to those who had
planned the exhibition, and who had not
imagined that such abundance and variety
of material for it existed in their little city;
not a few gems of the old masters in paint-
ing were brought out, beside rich carvings
in wood and ivory, tapestries, embroideries,
marbles, and porcelain. The artistic value
of this exhibition was such that it is greatly,
to be regretted that it was so little known,
and lasted so short a time. But some of the
contributions have been allowed to remain
in the Mansi palace, which is open to visit-
ors. The palace itself is interesting, being
of mediæval construction, and restored in
the seventeenth century. A long staircase
leads to an arched gallery, open on one side
to a garden, and festooned with vines; upon
this gallery open the doors and windows of
a suite of spacious rooms. The pictures
which they contain are mostly by Flem-
ish painters; but there is an Adoration by
Luca Giordano, and a Martyrdom of St. Ag-
nes by Domenichino. There is much an-
206
AT HOME IN ITALY.
•
tique furniture and tapestry, and a collec-
tion of bric-à-brac fills one room. But the
most striking feature of the palace, to the
ordinary visitor, is the state bedroom pre-
pared for the nuptials of one of the Mansi
family with a lady of the house of Santini,
in the last century. It is an alcove some
thirty feet square, separated from a large
salon by a magnificent gilded cornice and
columns, with curtains of yellow silk. The
walls and doors of the alcove are covered
with rich embroideries in bright colored silks
on a yellow ground. The canopy, curtains,
and counterpane of the bed are still more
heavily embroidered, and its frame-work is
concealed in the same way. The chairs are
of white and gold, with embroidered backs
and seats. The whole effect of this bright
alcove, as seen from the dim salon, is splen-
did beyond description.
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY.
A WEEK of travel in America, the land
of magnificent distances, seems a small mat-
ter. It cannot, out of New England at least,
include much more than a wearisome and
hurried journey, and the equally hurried
view of one or two places of interest. Un-
less one has the constitution and the purse
of Dom Pedro, a general tour of the United
States is sufficiently exhaustive, both to
one's bodily and financial resources, and the
average American can hardly expect ever
to behold for himself the whole of his own
country. It is a pleasant surprise to him-
for it is a surprise, practically, in spite of
knowledge that Europe is so small. It
is almost oppressive to pass so quickly from
one scene of interest to another. Italy, es-
pecially, is like a fine and delicate mosaic;
there is not a particle of her surface that has
not some separate history, and is not pre-
cious to him who knows how to appreciate
208
AT HOME IN ITALY.
it. The general beauty may be observed at
a glance, but the wealth of natural and ar-
tistic loveliness which goes to make it up,
and the processes through which it has come
to be what it is; these make Italy, to all
but the most indolent and unintelligent, a
place of delights not to be measured so much
in miles as in thoughts. Nowhere in Europe
is the lack of previous study so painfully
felt by those who come without due prep-
aration; the days are not long enough for
both sight-seeing and study; and mind and
body are too fatigued for it at night. He
who would enjoy this country thoroughly
in a limited time should spend all his avail-
able leisure for months beforehand in mak-
ing himself familiar with what he is about
to see; and having done so he will be sur-
prised to find how much he can accomplish
in a very short period.
For those who can spend only a couple of
months in Italy, I think April and May are
the best of the year. The winter months.
have been generally chosen, under the im-
pression that after March Italy is a furnace ;
but it is much more true that earlier in the
season, except in certain sheltered and south-
ern places, it is cold, foggy, and rainy for so
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY. 209
large a proportion of the time as not only
to interfere greatly with the beauty of the
landscape, but also with the capacity of the
traveler for enjoyment in-doors or out. I
should never wish an American to have his
first sight of Italy in the winter. He will
shiver under skies less blue than his own,
and mourn for his lost comforts in the chill-
ing winds that blow through ruined temples.
But in April, when his own land is still
frost-bound, it is summer in Naples and
spring in Rome. Let him come here then,
beginning at the far south, and retreating
northward as the sun advances; and he will
not find the last days of May too warm for
the lakes or for Venice. The weather, too,
at this season is far more reliable than at an
earlier one; and fogs, the great enemy of
the traveler, are less frequent than at any
other time of the year. I have just returned
from a week's trip to the north of Italy, and
more charming weather I could not have
desired.At Verona, the near foot-hills of
the Alps were still streaked with snow, and
the air was fresh and bracing.
There is much more of interest in that old
town than the guide-books would have one
believe; it is full of Roman ruins and relics,
14
210
AT HOME IN ITALY.
as well as of associations with the recent his-
tory of Italy, in the wars for her independ
ence. Peschiera and Novara are not far
distant, and Mantua, with its fortifications,
well merits a visit from the student of his-
tory or of military matters. To the ordi-
nary visitor the old amphitheatre is the most
interesting object. Built in the fourth cen-
tury, its walls remained almost entire until
the twelfth, when an earthquake caused the
fall of some of the higher portions, and all
but a small part of the upper tier of arches
has been since taken down on account of in-
security. But what remains is enough to
show the beauty and solidity of its construc-
tion, the inclosure being still complete and
the walls perfect as far up as the second tier
of arches. The interior is occupied by forty-
five rows of seats, and a large arena, and is
capable of containing nearly 100,000 per-
sons. At the visit of Victor Emanuel in
1866, 40,000 persons assembled there. Un-
fortunately the city government, though it
has prohibited the stalls being occupied as
shops, as they formerly were, still permits
the use of it for traveling shows, and when
I was there a horrible wooden structure de-
formed the centre of the arena, in which,
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY. 211
according to the placard, "La Fille de Ma-
dame Angot" was to be performed that
evening. However, modern barbarism can-
not spoil the charm of antiquity that lingers
about the old ruin, which stands in the very
highest part of the city, in the Piazza
Vittorio Emanuele, where every evening the
band plays, and fashionable Verona comes
to promenade and gossip. It is in curious
contrast, this grim, stern building, with the
trivial modern architecture which for the
most part surrounds it; as if its solid stones
were so many satires upon the hollowness
of brick and stucco. These great stones,
now darkened by time into one uniform tint
of blackish-gray, on being chipped reveal
the loveliest shades of pale pink and yellow
and bluish white. This is the famous Ve-
rona marble, of which sixty varieties are to
be seen in the interior of the Verona cathe-
dral. We went of course to see the house
of the Capulets and the tomb of Juliet. The
former is supposed to have been the veritable
home of the Cappelletti family, but let us
hope that they did not hang out the family
wash at the front windows, as do the present
occupants. Juliet's tomb is plainly a fraud,
but it answers its purpose both to the imag-
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
inative tourist and the practical custodian.
A little pot of bergamot in the window of
the chapel was more significant to me than
the proper romance of the place, for its fa-
miliar perfume carried me back to the coun-
try garden where I first read of Romeo and
Juliet and entered into their misfortunes
with all the realism of youth.)
We had been counseled to stop at Vi-
cenza, which, being one of the smaller cit
ies, and without special historic or literary
associations, is somewhat overshadowed by
its more pretentious neighbors, Verona and
Padua, and consequently little known to
foreigners. We were glad we did so, for
we saw some of the finest specimens of ar-
chitecture in northern Italy, the work of
Palladio, who was born, in 1518, at Vicenza,
and whose churches we afterward admired
in Venice. He, at least, was honored in his
own city, and has left some durable monu-
ments of his genius. The Palazzo della
Ragione, or town hall, is a large and mag-
nificent structure, surrounded by arcades, in
a double series, the lower with Doric and
the upper with Ionic columns. Under these
arcades are the principal shops of the city,
and the square in front is the public market.
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY. 213
A slender, high campanile rises at one cor-
ner of the square, and two palaces of lofty
proportions and exquisite architecture stand
opposite the town hall. A good statue of
Palladio completes the view of this remark-
ably beautiful square. The stone carving
around the palace doors in all Palladio's
buildings is specially worthy of attention,
and all the decorations are harmonious and
unobtrusive, but full of richness and mean-
ing. Padua, with the exception of its town
hall and the church of St. Antonio, looks
very commonplace and triste after a morn-
ing in aristocratic and well-preserved Vi-
cenza. There is not a little, however, to
detain one, in spite of the somewhat repel-
ling aspect of the ancient university city,
which seemed doubly gloomy at the time of
our visit, as the students were dispersed for
the summer vacation. The great café Pe-
drocchi, the gayest spot in the city, was de-
serted and silent, and the waiters thankful
for a stray traveler or two to enliven their
solitude. The church of St. Antonio is the
gem of Padua, and with its seven domes,
and Byzantine style of architecture, makes
you feel that you are drawing near to Ven-
ice. The chapel of the saint is rich in gold
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
ว
and silver and precious stones and sculp-
tures, as well as humble offerings from the
devout who believe themselves to have ex-
perienced his timely interference; and va-
rious pictures grotesquely enough represent
the peril and deliverance of the giver; as,
for instance, two men lying under the wheels
of a loaded cart, while the saint stops the
horses at the right instant; and another of
some house-breakers frightened away by the
same kind, spiritual policeman. But in the
Life of St. Anthony, sculptured in high relief
around the walls of the chapel, there is much
that is noble in expression and execution,
—and the whole effect of the chapel is in-
describably beautiful. But the greatest art
treasures of Padua are contained in a little
out-of-the-way chapel, which stands in the
midst of a garden and is called the "Ma-
donna dell' Arena," from being built near
the ruins of an old Norman theatre.
interior is completely covered with frescoes
by Giotto, painted in 1304, and in excel-
lent preservation. At the entrance end the
wall is entirely covered with a remarkable
painting representing the Last Judgment,
as to which Dante, who was at that time in
Padua, is supposed to have given many sug-
The
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY. 215
gestions. It is powerfully conceived, and
forms a fine contrast to the walls on each
side, which are divided into sections, with
some subject from the New Testament
treated in each. The tenderness and beauty
of these frescoes, especially some of those
representing the Life of Christ, it is impos-
sible to imagine. The whole chapel is a
bright relic of the past, a place to study
and admire for hours,
reluctantly from a too short visit.
and we came away
But Venice! Looming up in the sunset
light like and yet unlike the city of our
dreams; growing nearer and more real min-
ute by minute as we cross the long bridge
from the mainland, which seems like an arm
stretched out to keep the fair apparition
from slipping away from us; - how is it
possible to say anything new or true of the
pleasure of the first sight of it? "O you,
whoever you are," says Howells, "that
journey toward this enchanted city for the
first time, let me tell you how happy I count
you! There lies before you, for your pleas-
ure, the spectacle of singular beauty such as
no picture can ever show you nor book tell
you; beauty which you shall feel perfectly
but once, and regret forever." And yet,
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*
But there we were
least was noisy and
And then again, in
takes to write this,
with a singular contrariness, I found myself
thinking, in the midst of all that was new
and fairy-like in the approach to Venice, of
Boston and the Back Bay as it was;
and thinking how soon a nation of enterpris-
ing Yankees would fill up the lagoon, and
Venice would have a Phillips Brooks's
church in the middle of it! And I shud-
dered at the thought.
at the station; that at
commonplace enough.
not more time than it
we were out of the turmoil, gliding softly
down the Grand Canal in the half twilight,
half moonlight of a May evening. Perhaps
life has no more sudden or blessed contrast
to give. To me Venice brought unmixed
pleasure; a keen, fine enjoyment without
the restlessness which characterizes such en-
joyment elsewhere. After hours of sight-
seeing, to take a gondola, and float lazily
upon the lagoon, or thread the intricate,
dim canals; to see no hurry, hear no noise
of traffic; to get one's letters at a wave-
washed palace and read them reclining on
the cushions of the little cabin; to see, when
one awakes in the morning, the reflection of
the sun-lighted water on the ceiling, and to
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY. 217
:
fall asleep with its soft lapping against the
marble steps, the last sound of which one is
conscious; to know that a world of art and
beauty is about you to become yours at will,
and to taste its pleasures at leisure all these
things make Venice to the traveler, tired
with the usual routine of tourist life, a relief
and refreshment as well as a place of study
and active delight. Happy is he who can
yield to its fascination and linger for weeks
among its palaces! Happy is he who can
see it under all aspects of morning and even-
ing light and can imprint upon his memory
the outlines of its beauty - a beauty that
seems so fragile, so unearthly, that you al-
most fear when you come again it will have
vanished like a dream city or a mirage. I
am not going to undertake any description
of what I saw and enjoyed in the three days
which were all I could then spend in Ven-
ice. I will say only one thing more about
it, — if you have only two days there, do
not grudge an hour of one of them to the
ascent of the campanile of St. Giorgio Mag-
giore, on the island opposite the piazzetta
of St. Mark's, whence there is to be seen a
glorious panorama of the city, the mainland
with the Alps and the Euganean hills, and
ir
218
AT HOME IN ITALY.
of the Adriatic. It is far finer than the
view from the campanile of St. Mark's, be-
cause you have the city before instead of all
around you.
66
On our way home from Venice we stopped
at Battaglia, a little station among the Eu-
ganean hills, in order to visit the house of
Petrarch at Arqua, three miles away. The
road leads through a fertile plain for the
first mile; and is bordered by a sluggish,
willow-lined stream. To beguile the wea-
riness of the way, I asked the driver ques-
tions about the region. "Why is the vil-
lage called Battaglia?" Why, signora,
because that is its name," soberly replied
the astonished man. I abandoned the effort
to obtain information, and was glad when
we left the valley and began to zigzag up the
hill. These Euganean hills, which Shelley
has immortalized, are about twelve miles in
length and six in breadth. They are of
volcanic origin, and rise abruptly from the
plain, the highest point being about 2,000
feet above the sea level. They are wooded
to their tops, and in their rounded and
graceful forms remind one of our own Berk-
shire hills. The little village of Arqua, a
miserable hamlet, lies on the eastern slope
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY. 219
of one of the lower hills; and above the vil-
lage, accessible only by a steep bridle-path,
is the house which Petrarch, tired of the ap-
plause and intrigues of court-life, built for
the habitation of his old age. It is a two-
story dwelling, of brick covered with stucco,
in the usual Italian fashion. The living
rooms are on the second floor (as we should
call it), the ground rooms in these country
houses being generally appropriated to the
servants' use, and possibly to the stable.
An outside staircase leads to the entrance,
under a small portico, of the rooms which
the poet occupied. It is in the library that
the interest centres, as there Petrarch prin-
cipally lived, and there he was found dead
one July morning in 1374,- with his head
bowed over his book, having been sur-
prised, after a long decline, by an attack of
apoplexy. In the library are preserved his
study-chair and the relics of his sideboard,
a great part of the latter having been car-
ried off by relic-hunters. It is now kept
under lock and key to save it from further
depredations. Some tributes from cele-
brated visitors are also kept in the same re-
ceptacle. Over the door of the library is a
glass case containing the skeleton of Pe-
220
AT HOME IN ITALY.
•
trarch's favorite cat, who departed this life
soon after her master. (What a pity that
Mr. Warner's cat "Calvin" was not thus
in some way saved for the benefit of admir-
ing posterity!) Apropos of this cat, some
irreverent spirit has written, among the
verses with which the walls are covered, the
following lines:-
"Petrarca mio, non creder ch' io abbia fatta
Questa gita per te, ma per la gatta."
("Don't fancy, Petrarch, that I have taken this journey
for thy sake, but for the cat's.")
From the dining-room window, which looks
westward, one sees one's self in the heart
of the hills, which rise abruptly behind the
house, and only open toward the southwest
to show a glimpse of the plain in the direc-
tion of Ferrara. Two conical peaks are
specially remarkable from their regularity;
but the view is not one to detain the gazer.
It is plain that it was not for inspiration, but
repose, that the poet sought this lonely re-
treat. Byron has well described the local-
ity :
"The soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt
Is one of that complexion which seems made
For those who their mortality have felt,
And sought a refuge from their hopes decayed,
In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade,
A WEEK IN NORTHERN ITALY.
221
!
Which shows a distant prospect far away
Of busy cities, now in vain displayed,
For they can lure no farther; and the ray
Of a bright sun can make sufficient holiday."
Petrarch's body reposes in a marble sarcoph-
agus in front of the church at Arqua, but
the tomb has been repeatedly pillaged, and
it is said that parts of the body have been
carried off to Florence and other places.
AN APRIL DAY ON THE CONSUMA
PASS.
ONE of our pleasantest excursions was
made during the early days of April, 1879,
to the hill country near Florence. That
month is usually one of the finest for coun-
try excursions, but this year we had had
New England rather than Italian weather,
and the "six weeks of March," so dreaded
at home, had lasted on quite into May.
But here and there a bright day had been
thrown in between weeks of wind and fog
and rain, and then the desire to escape from
winter quarters in the city was doubly felt.
So on one of these exceptional days we re-
solved to give way to the longing for green
fields and budding woods, and, even though
these might exist only in imagination, to go
and seek them where they ought literally to
be found. We took the early train to Pon-
tassieve, a place to which a recent writer
on Vallombrosa in Scribner's Monthly does
ON THE CONSUMA PASS.
223
Italian bargain is.
not do justice. He merely mentions that
"the hackmen' were as urgent and far
more vehement" than at the Grand Central
depot in New York. But if he had wanted
to see the real spirit of the thing, he should
not have taken the conveyances to be found
at the station, but have gone to headquar-
ters to make a bargain with their owner, and
then he could have had an idea of what an
These "carriages," by
the way, are rickety, two-seated buggies,
with a cover which seems in too rheumatic a
state to be ever raised again, and the “hack-
men" are stout peasants, who interrupt
their other occupations at the advent of a
stray passenger; and not having the dignity
of their profession to stand upon, are most
companionable and obliging. They are, in-
deed, guides, philosophers, and friends dur-
ing all the term of their service. They will
climb after flowers for you, they will take
you to the house of one of their acquaint-
ances if you are caught in a passing shower,
they will regale you with stories of brigands
and confide to you their own histories and
tell you the name of every castle and every
hill; they will accept thankfully the re-
mains of your luncheon and put away the
224
AT HOME IN ITALY.
bit of white bread for the children at home,
and be made supremely happy if you do not
object to their pipe.
Not choosing to pay the exorbitant de-
mand of the liers-in-wait for strangers, we
walked up to the village and inquired for
"il principale." He was in a barn, and
thither we went, hoping to escape the crowd
of idlers who loitered outside. But they
swarmed in, and before we had come to sat-
isfactory terms there were more people in-
side that barn than I saw outside of it in the
whole village. Men, women, and children,
all seemed to take an active interest in the
affair and I began to think that all the Pon-
tassievans owned a share in the horses and
wagon under discussion. There is one curi-
ous peculiarity of these bargains. Instead
of bearing you malice for reducing an extrav-
agant price, these people seem to feel for
you increased respect and good-will when
you have brought them to fair terms, and to
consider you henceforth as a friend, with
whom all artifices may and must be laid
aside. So, when they helped us into the
vehicle which was ready "subito,” that is to
say, after half an hour of delay, we were
cheered on our way by many a buon viag-
gio."
ON THE CONSUMA PASS.
225
We had decided to go to the summit of
the Consuma Pass, in order to have a look
into the Casentino valley, which, ever since
my first Dante-reading days in America, I
had been longing to see. There was a good
deal of snow on the pass, we were told, but
the road was open, and it was quite an added
pleasure to anticipate seeing snow-drifts after
so many years of absence from them. The
village of Pontassieve is beautifully situated
on a high bank above the Arno, and at the
mouth of the torrent Sieve, over which the
road passes by a high bridge, whence there
is a magnificent view. A little beyond this
bridge the road to the Casentino turns off to
the left, while that leading to Pelago and
Vallombrosa still keeps on for a while along
the Arno. Pelago, a picturesque little vil-
lage, was hidden in a hollow from this Ca-
sentino road, but above it, at our right, rose
the hill of Pratomagno, with its "macchie,"
forests of pines, looking indeed like dark
spots against the mountain side; and from
a little clearing in their midst emerged the
roof of the convent of Vallombrosa. The
"Paradisino," a small convent building,
perched on the rocks above, is visible from
Florence, but the great convent itself is in a
15
226
AT HOME IN ITALY.
more sheltered and less sightly position. We
had been to Vallombrosa, and the distant
view of it was enough to call up remem-
brances of the lovely meadows encircled by
forests, the solemn gloom of those forests,
the Sabbath-like quiet of the whole place.
But it will soon be quiet no longer, except
in the dead of winter, for since we visited it
a carriage road has made approach too easy,
and the humble inn will soon, in all proba-
bility, be replaced by a "first-class" hotel.
There was a long streak of icy snow on
the top of the mountain above the convent
that glistened in the sun and told us it was
yet too early for Vallombrosa to be enjoya-
ble. But down in the valleys spring showed
itself in its full glory. In the sunny mead-
ows the wheat was already high and green;
the almond and peach trees were in bloom;
and by the wayside, anemones as large as
poppies and of deep purple and scarlet tints,
periwinkles, violets, marigolds, and many
other flowers mingled with the white-thorn
blossoms of the hedges. The mountains of
Pistoia and Carrara, as we climbed higher,
revealed more and more their fantastic
forms, with their snowy peaks and blue and
violet depths. The main chain of the Ap-
ON THE CONSUMA PASS.
227
ennines was hidden from us by the hill we
were ascending. As we toiled up the driver
pointed out various castles renowned in the
annals of the Val d'Arno. The frequent
meeting with powerful-looking carabinieri
led us to ask about the necessity for such a
continual patrol of the roads. It was now,
we were assured, specially for the benefit of
the farmers, so that their crops might be
protected; but this was too good an oppor-
tunity to be lost for telling us tales of
"those other times," not long ago, when no
man's life or property was safe in traveling
on those very roads.
One noted brigand, whose exploits are re-
lated in a popular little book, was the spe-
cial terror of that region. We asked the
driver if he had ever heard of him.
"Pur
troppo, signora! I have seen him, too, to
my sorrow." And he told us how, when a
boy, he was coming up the mountain with
his cart when the terrible Guicche appeared
before him and commanded him to halt.
He was bound and conducted to a place
where he found fifteen others firmly secured
to trees and lamenting their mishap. Two
or three more soon took their places in the
unhappy band. Guicche carried off the con-
228
AT HOME IN ITALY.
.
*
tents of the carts to one of his hiding-places,
and, when he had finished, liberated one of
the captives and left him to unbind the oth-
ers at his leisure, while the brigand disap-
peared in the forests and none dared follow
him. At another time, he dressed up some
men of straw and placed them behind trees
on a hill overlooking the road, whence the
muzzles of their guns (or what appeared to
be such) could be seen pointed thitherward.
When the diligence came along, full of pas-
sengers returning from Florence with the
proceeds of their marketing in their fat
pocket-books, Guicche presented himself,
pistol in hand, and pointing to his men in
ambush, advised the passengers to make no
resistance while he relieved them of their
valuables, else they would be all dead men.
The stout fattori of the Val d'Arno are not
much inclined to fight with brigands, espe-
cially for the saving of their master's prop-
erty, and Guicche got off with a round sum
of money without any trouble from the be-
wildered victims. Money, and not murder,
was his rule, and he seems hardly ever to
have taken life, except in self-defense. His
time came, however, at last. He was snared
ignominiously in the house of a peasant who
ON THE CONSUMA PASS.
229
harbored him, and after biting off a finger
from the soldier who captured him, he was
secured and carried off. On the way to the
next village, he made a desperate effort and
escaped from his captors, who then fired
upon and mortally wounded him. Finding
he must die, he asked who it was that had
hit him, and complimenting the success-
ful marksman upon his skill, asked him to
accept his own pistol as a souvenir of the
day.
The top of the Consuma Pass is bleak
and bare, swept by all winds and scantily
inhabited. We dismounted at a miserable
inn at the little village-a mere handful of
houses near the top, and then walked to
the summit, whence we could look over into
the valley of the Casentino. From April,
we seemed to have gone back to January.
The snow lay in patches all around us, and
prevented our climbing to the best point of
view by its deep drifts. The wind was
piercing, and we were fain to shelter our-
selves behind the jutting rocks and warm
our chilled fingers in the sun, although we
were only two thousand feet above the sea-
level. We saw a valley, apparently about
twelve miles wide and quite different in as-
230
AT HOME IN ITALY.
pect from that in which Florence lies; there
were fewer olives and more evergreens to
give the tone to the landscape, and the vivid
verdure showed us where were
"The rills that glitter down the grassy slopes
Of Casentino, making fresh and soft
The banks whereby they glide to Arno's stream."
The situations of Camaldoli and Alvernia
were pointed out to us, on the opposite side
of the valley. Beyond rose the mighty mass
of the central Apennine range, with Monte
Falterona, its highest peak, a grand moun-
tain, covered half way to its base with snow,
and seeming to dominate the whole land-
scape. On this mountain both the Arno and
the Tiber take their rise, one on the western
and the other on the eastern slope. The
Arno runs southward through the Casen-
tino, or upper Val d'Arno, nearly to Arezzo,
and then makes a great bend round the
mountain of Pratomagno, and turns north-
ward into what is called the lower Val
d'Arno.
When we had somewhat satisfied our eyes
with this longed-for view, we went back to
the village. It need not be said that we
had not been alone in our walk; and now
we were assailed by importunities to visit
1
ON THE CONSUMA PASS.
231
the church, and the ice-house, which seemed
to be the two wonders of the place, in the
estimation of the inhabitants. As to the
church, we knew as well beforehand as af-
terward what we should see there, some
staring Madonnas, and horrible paper flow-
ers, but what in the world there was to
be seen at an ice-house we could not imag-
ine. At length, however, the very absurd-
ity of the thing made us yield, and we al-
lowed ourselves to be conducted thither in
triumph. We entered by what looked like
a passage into a stable, and found ourselves
in a circular building, perhaps sixty feet in
diameter, with a floor of solid snow. We
were told that this layer of snow was al-
ready six or eight feet deep, and another
layer was to be put on that day. 66 You
should stay, signora," said our guides, “and
see how beautiful it is in the evening when
it is lighted up and we all dance here to
harden the snow." There had been a dance
the previous evening, and certainly with the
desired effect. The color of the snow, as
may be imagined, was not of the purest, but
this snow-ice is only used for purposes for
which purity is not necessary. I could not
but imagine it to be a picturesque sight, this
232
AT HOME IN ITALY.
dance on the snow by the light of torches,
and as it was for such a purpose, the most
scrupulous of our anti-amusement friends
could not find fault with it. Probably, too,
it was as much enjoyed and gave as good
opportunities to the village belles and beaux
as if it had not its useful side.
The osteria was a fair specimen of pictur-
esque dirtiness. We entered by the same
passage which gave access to the stable, and
mounting a narrow stair, we found a kitchen
which would delight a painter; a long, low
room, with blackened beams, and an im-
mense fire-place with seats inside, at which
some men were thawing themselves after the
long pull up the hill. The table was spread,
and huge dishes of macaroni and flasks of
wine were being rapidly emptied by other
hungry travelers, while cats and chickens
roamed about the room in undisturbed fa-
miliarity, and had their share of the meal.
We, as forestieri, were shown into a small
inner room, where we managed to spread
the lunch we had brought with us, adding
thereto some of the sweet brown bread
which the hostess offered us, and some eggs
cooked in oil, in order that she might not
think we wholly despised her fare — and
ON THE CONSUMA PASS.
233
then an hour and a half's rapid drive took
us down the mountain which it had needed
four hours to climb, and we were back in
Florence at the ringing of the Ave Maria
bell.
A FLORENTINE FAMILY IN THE FIF-
TEENTH CENTURY.
DETAILS of personal traits and domes-
tic life have an inexpressible charm for all
readers of average human sympathies. We
turn with more relief than we are willing to
confess from the brilliant generalizations of
the historian to the pages of the humble
chronicler or diarist; and what the French
modestly call "mémoires pour servir" are
indeed often of more real use as well as en-
tertainment to posterity than the works by
which in their own time they were over-
shadowed.
In all that has been written of the public
and social life of the Italians, we find few
details of their family habits. One reason
of this is, of course, that the social life of
the Latin races does not centre in the home,
as does that of those nations whom necessi-
ties of climate quite as much, perhaps, as
nobler reasons - have driven to domestic-
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
235
1
ity. The Italian does not bring the stran-
ger, to whom he wishes to be courteous,
home with him; he takes his friend to the
theatre, dines with him at the café, or strolls
with him in the park. If he does introduce
him, as a rare favor, within his domestic pre-
cincts, it is only after due preparation, and
in such a manner that the spontaneousness
of hospitality has had time to congeal into
the solemnity of a public occasion. He does,
indeed, invite the chance visitor at the hour
of a repast, to "favor him" by remaining
to partake of it; but he does so when the
visitor is already at the door, and would be
as much surprised at his assent as would the
Spaniard by the acceptance of the posses-
sions which he lays at your feet. We of the
North smile at these gracious insincerities;
but the Southerner wonders no less at the
blunt, unsmiling positiveness which he calls
rudeness; at the want of general sympathy
which shuts up all our demonstrativeness
within closed doors; at the solemn faces
with which we go about both our work and
our recreation.
Those who are curious to know something
of domestic life in Italy in the fifteenth cen-
tury, especially the life of the female mem-
236
AT HOME IN ITALY.
bers of the household, will find much of
interest in the Letters of Alessandra Ma-
cinghi, the widow of Matteo Strozzi, to her
exiled sons, and it is to them that I am
principally indebted for the materials used
in the following sketch. These Letters
were compiled and published by Cesare
Guasti in 1877, but, so far as I know, they
have never been translated. The writer was
the mother of that Filippo Strozzi who
founded the grand old palace, in the Via
Tornabuoni, which is the admiration of
every visitor to Florence. His bust, by
Benedetto da Majano, adorns one of its
dim, vast salons; but I have sought there
in vain for any memorial of the mother
to whom he owed so much, and for whom
he always manifested a tender affection.
She died long before he had thought of
building a house for his posterity; and her
best record is in these simple letters to her
sons. At the time when they begin, Ales-
sandra Strozzi had been twelve years a
widow. Her husband, who was a man of
much culture and studious habits, had mixed
somewhat extensively in politics, and shown
more good faith than astuteness during the
exile of Cosimo de' Medici. When the lat-
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
237
ter was recalled, Matteo Strozzi, with many
others of the principal families in Florence,
suffered the penalty of exile. He went to
Pesaro, and died there in less than a year.
It was a time of tribulation in many a
Florentine household, from which the hus-
band and father was torn away, while the
wife was obliged to remain to guard her
children's inheritance. Most touching is
the picture which the biographer of Ales-
sandra de' Bardi gives of her husband's go-
ing forth into exile, to which his father and
hers had previously been condemned.
66 I
am left," cries out the desolate wife," with-
out a helper; and I must go to and fro
wearily, beseeching this one and that one of
the authorities for the preservation of our
goods." But these women were equal to
the occasion. Vespasiano da Bisticci cannot
praise Alessandra de' Bardi enough for her
courage, prudence, and fortitude in the most
trying circumstances; and though Alessan-
dra Strozzi had no biographer, the simple
story of her life as shown in this correspond-
ence gives evidence of what she endured and
accomplished. She was only twenty-nine
at the time of her husband's death, and had
borne him seven children. Alessandra had
238
AT HOME IN ITALY.
accompanied her husband to Pesaro, being
more fortunate than many of her friends in
that she was able to do so; but the com-
parative happiness which the exiled family
might have thus enjoyed was of short dura-
tion. In the course of a few months her
husband and three of her children died, -
as it would appear, all of a pestilential dis-
ease then raging; and the afflicted widow
hastened to return with her surviving chil-
dren to Florence, where she soon gave birth
to a son, who was, she says, the "very im-
age" of her lost husband, and was called by
his name. Her eldest remaining son, Fi-
lippo, had been sent, while quite young, to
serve an apprenticeship in mercantile affairs
with an old friend of his father's at Palermo;
whence he went to a cousin of his father's
at Naples, who was doing a prosperous bus-
iness, and who showed much interest in the
welfare of the orphaned family. Lorenzo,
the second son, was at Avignon; and Ales-
sandra's letters are addressed to these absent
children. The first one, dated August 4,
1447, brings the family before us at an inter-
esting moment. The eldest daughter, Ca-
terina, is about to be married to "a good
and virtuous youth, twenty-five years old, a
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
239
silk merchant," and of honorable position.
The mother congratulates herself that she is
well disposed of, for "she is sixteen years of
age, and it is high time she was married"!
Though by giving a larger dowry a more
noble husband might have been procured,
still, in the circumstances, it seemed to Ales-
sandra better to marry her at once, with the
thousand florins which were at her disposi
tion, than to wait till she could accumulate
four or five hundred more. Nor had she
reason to regret her choice. Marco Parenti
proved to be a loving husband and a man of
consideration in the community. He ar-
rived at the dignity of podesta, or mayor,
of Colle, in the district of Florence, and his
letters show him to have been a wise and
kindly man.
Caterina was, in her mother's opinion,
"the prettiest girl in Florence;" neverthe-
less, she had a girl's desire to enhance her
attractions; and her mother begs, in her
name, that if Filippo can send her a certain
kind of soap, or a wash, "or any other beau-
tifier," he will do it. She enlarges on the
gifts of the bridegroom, who was indeed most
liberal. He was a methodical man, and to
this trait we owe a list of his gifts, which he
2
240
AT HOME IN ITALY.
noted down in a new memorandum book, ded-
icated in the following words: “In the name
of God, and his virgin mother, holy Mary;
and of St. Michael, angel and archangel;
and St. John the Baptist, and St. John the
Evangelist, and St. Paul, and St. Peter, and
St. Mark, and St. Mary Magdalen, and St.
Catherine, and all the apostles and evangel-
ists and saints of God: and may the begin-
ning and continuation and end of this book
be to their glory; and of their mercy may
they give me grace that what I shall write
in it may be for good to my soul, and body,
and estate."
Among the gifts we may notice only a
few, as indicative of the fashions of the
period: A dress of white damask, trimmed
with marten fur; a dress of light blue stuff,
with sleeves of Alexandrian velvet; seven-
teen embroidered chemises; ten towels;
thirty handkerchiefs; one baccio of white
damask; a prayer-book; two strings of large
coral; six silk caps; three needle cases; two
ivory combs; an embroidered handkerchief;
three pairs of red hose; a dress of crimson
satin and velvet brocade, trimmed with
white fur; an overdress of the same, with
trimmings of gold and pearls; a garland of
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
241
peacock tails, mounted in silver, with pearls,
gilt leaves, and enameled flowers; a girdle
of crimson shot with gold, with clasps of
silver gilt; a gold shoulder ornament, with
two sapphires and three pearls; a collar of
pearls.
Such gifts must have satisfied even the
beautiful and beauty-loving Caterina. And
doubtless the trousseau was proportionately
elegant. Its value was counted as a part of
the dowry, and it had been preparing under
the diligent care of the mother ever since
the bride was an infant. An Italian wom-
an's marriage portion of household linen,
as well as of under-clothing, is usually suffi-
cient to last her for life.
Luxury in dress, which had been severely
repressed by sumptuary laws in 1330, was
on the increase at this time, though it did
not reach its highest point until the reign of
Lorenzo de' Medici. The costume of Flor-
entine women at this period was a robe of
silk or woolen stuff extending to the ground,
and trimmed with fringe; the waist long,
and the sleeves usually of the same material
as the dress. The hair was worn in curls,
and over it a veil of white silk reaching to
the shoulders; the "baccio of white dam-
16
242
AT HOME IN ITALY.
ask," in the above list, being for this pur-
pose. The garland, or diadem, was of course
for state occasions.
Marco Parenti and Caterina, as was the
custom, had been formally betrothed in
church, a few months before the time fixed
for the marriage. When the arrangements
for the latter were completed, the "giving
of the ring," as the marriage ceremony was
called, took place, also in church, and on the
following day the bride was conducted by
her friends to the house of the bridegroom,
where the wedding feast was eaten, which
in Marco's case was splendid and abundant.
During this repast there was music of trum-
pets, harps, fifes, and flutes.
But the mother's rejoicing at her daugh-
ter's settlement in life was shadowed by the
fear of an approaching separation from her
youngest son, Matteo, who was peculiarly
dear to her. Filippo and his employer had
been urging her to send him to them at Na-
ples, and she seems to have felt that it was
an opening for him not to be neglected; but,
she writes, "I cannot send him just yet;
though he is young, he is great company
for me, and I do not know how to spare
him. He has learned to read, and begins
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
243
She
to write, and I shall put him to learning ac-
counts this winter; then we will see what
is to be done with him, and may God give
him the wisdom he needs." Filippo, as the
head of the family, was already beginning
to be ambitious for its advantage, and to
have much influence with his mother.
yielded at last to his wishes, and prepared
to send Matteo to him. She arranged with
loving care his wardrobe, and enumerates
with a mother's fondness its items. He has
a mantle of the Naples fashion, a robe and
a waistcoat of violet color, fine slippers,
shirts, silver-handled knives, etc. But when
he is all ready to set out she is deterred by
her fears and the advice of friends.
"I am
continually told that I ought not to let him
go now in this heat, and with the pestilence
which is prevailing everywhere. . . . I am
sure he would not get to Naples without be-
ing ill, for I know his constitution; and if
anything should happen to him you would
be disappointed, and I should never be happy
again." But the next winter she had no
longer an excuse for keeping him, and with
much sorrow she let him depart. Such good
accounts of him come to her from his em-
ployers that she is half consoled: but her
244
AT HOME IN ITALY.
maternal heart still yearns over him, and
she begs Filippo, if he needs correction, “on
no account to strike him, but to reprove him
with gentleness." Was there a presenti-
ment in Alessandra's mind that the preco-
cious and beloved boy would soon be taken
from life? If so, she seems to have forgot-
ten it in his successes, and she playfully
chides him for his forgetfulness to write her
when he was already lying upon his death-
bed. In July, 1459, he was seized with a
fever which was epidemic in Naples, and
died after a few weeks' illness. A letter of
Marco Parenti to Filippo shows us the heart-
stricken mother in the midst of friends and
relations who have gradually broken to her
the sad news. There are "Francesco and
Battista degli Strozzi, and Madonna Cate-
rina, and Madonna Nannina de' Neri, and
other women, who have told her the sorrow-
ful tidings in the gentlest way they could."
When the first bitterness of her grief was
passed, Alessandra writes a most touching
letter to Filippo. "We are reduced to a
small number," she says, "but I pacify my-
self, considering that God may do worse to
me; and if, in his grace and mercy, He pre-
serves to me you my remaining sons, I will
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
245
7
not complain. All my anxiety is that you
should profit by this affliction. I know well
that it has grieved you, but do not let it
make you ill; for we have nothing to re-
proach ourselves with in regard to the care
taken of Matteo, and it was the will of God
that he should escape from the troubles of
this sorrowful world." Then, again, her
grief overcomes her, and she cries out, "I
would that I had not asked anybody's coun-
sel, but had done what I was inclined to do!
For then I might have been in time to see
and touch my sweet son while he was yet
alive; and it would have been a comfort to
me, and to you, and to him. I will believe
that all was for the best." She gives him
advice how to take care of his health, and
begs him not to overwork to gain worldly
goods. "For, see! we must leave them all.
Do you think I want to hear that you are
laying up wealth, and wearing yourself out
for it, by so much toil and anxiety?"
We have anticipated, in following to its
end the story of Matteo's short life. In
1451 Madonna Alessandra married her
younger daughter, Alessandra, to Giovanni
Bonsi; but this time, though the dowry was
equal in value to Caterina's, there is noth-
246
AT HOME IN ITALY.
ing said about the wedding or the gifts.
Bonsi was twenty years older than his bride,
and in family and fortune inferior to the
husband of Caterina, but the mother calls
him "a
a virtuous and good man." In the
only letter of his which is given, he begs his
brother-in-law not to address him in the
third person, because he does not merit that
mark of respect, but especially because it
would make his wife think that Filippo
considered him too old for her.
on
Lorenzo, the second son of Madonna Ales-
sandra, was the black sheep of the family.
He possessed neither the ambition and pru-
dence of Filippo nor the sweet disposition of
Matteo, and was a spendthrift and a gam-
bler. In 1452 he is in his uncle's bank in
Bruges, and his mother is very much dis-
tressed at the accounts she receives of him,
and writes to him with what is, for her, un-
usual severity. He was at this time twenty
years old, and had been away from home
seven years.
"From what I hear about
you," says Madonna Alessandra, "I gather
that you are more ready to throw away
money than to save it, which is the contrary
of what ought to be. And I see that you
are bringing harm and shame both upon
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
247
yourself and upon us; that your habits are
not good, and that you do not heed reproof,
which is a bad sign, and makes me repent
of all my confidence in you. I do not know
how you can persist in your willful ways,
knowing, first, that they displease God, and
also me; for it is a great trial to me to hear
of your failures in duty, and the injury and
shame which come of it I leave you to con-
sider; and you also give great offense to
your uncle Jacob. If you had but just be-
gun there would be some hope, but now for
years you have been going on in ways that
are not good, and you have been borne with
for my sake. But I think, if you do not
change your behavior, my entreaties for you
will no longer avail. Let this warning suf-
fice. Be wise, for it is your duty and for
your advantage. . . . Remember, and do
not cast my reproofs behind your back, for
they are given with love and tears, and I
pray God that he may incline you to do
what I desire."
Whether or not these admonitions had
effect, we have no means of knowing, for
there is an interval of five years between
this and the next letter which has been pre-
served. We find that in 1458 Lorenzo had
248
AT HOME IN ITALY.
a severe illness at Bruges, and as soon as
he was able he came to Florence for a brief
visit. A few months after his return to
Bruges, a law was passed which condemned
the sons of exiles to twenty-five years' ban-
ishment from Florence, forbidding them to
approach within fifty miles of its territory,
or to write letters on other than private af-
fairs. This was a terrible blow to Madonna
Alessandra, whose life was bound up in her
sons; and also to Filippo, whose thoughts
and hopes constantly reverted to the home of
his fathers. He begs his mother to come
and live with her sons (there being a plan to
put Lorenzo under Filippo's care), "which
would be a great comfort to all." She was
strongly tempted to consent; but after re-
flection, the consideration that she could
further their advantage by remaining at
Florence to care for their affairs, and the
hope, which never left her, that sooner or
later they would be permitted to return
thither, decided her not to "change her
country," as she phrases it, in the old Ital-
ian manner. 66
Many things are brought
about by time," was her favorite maxim,
proved by the changes she had already wit-
nessed.
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
249
Whether she was a partisan of the Medici
or not, she does not openly say; indeed,
when all letters were likely to be inspected,
it was not prudent to write of one's political
preferences, and for much of the correspond-
ence, even about private affairs, she felt
obliged to have recourse to cipher. Proba-
bly, as Professor Guasti observes, she would
have preferred that government which
would give her back her sons. She was far-
seeing enough to perceive that the Medici
were likely to increase in power, and one of
the few allusions to this is in these words
to Lorenzo: "Remember that the adher-
ents of the Medici have uniformly pros-
pered, and the contrary has happened to
those of the Pazzi, who have always been
undone. Be advised." Her sons acquiesced
in the wisdom of her decision, and kept up,
by rare meetings outside the forbidden lim-
its, and by constant letters and messages by
friends, as much intercourse as was possible
in those days, when the procaccia, or carrier,
took two weeks for the journey from Flor-
ence to Naples.
Lorenzo, under the watchful care of his
elder brother, seems to have laid aside his
youthful follies and vices; at any rate, there
250
AT HOME IN ITALY.
are no more reproofs or regrets expressed in
regard to him in his mother's letters. Her
great anxiety is to see Filippo well married,
and she charges herself with finding a wife
for him. As early as 1450 she had written
to him about it: "If God prolongs my life
a few years, and your sister Alessandra is
out of the way, I will furnish the house with
linen, so that you will be well supplied; for,
in truth, while there are daughters in the
house, one can do nothing but for them;
but when she is out of it, I shall be free to
work for you, my sons. When I shall have
got the household stuff in a little better or-
der, I hope you will make up your mind to
come home; for it is now so that you would
not be ashamed of it, and could honorably
entertain a friend who might happen to
come to you; but in two or three years it
will be much better furnished. And I do
want to give you a wife; for you are now
of an age to know how to govern a family,
and it will be a consolation to me; I have
no other from whom to hope for it but you
children therefore, may God of his mercy
grant me the favor I long for."
Filippo does not enter enthusiastically
into his mother's matrimonial plans for him.
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
251
He makes an excuse of his being an exile,
and again of being well enough off as he is ;
his mother returns to the subject again and
again, sometimes with raillery, and some-
times with pleading. Her friends have sug-
gested several damsels, but the exacting
mother is not entirely satisfied with them.
She thinks she can do better, and "it is not
an affair in which we should take the first
thing that comes to hand." In time Filippo
gives his consent to her search, though still
without any wish to hasten the matter, and
he appears to have been quite willing to
leave the choice of a wife altogether to Ma-
donna Alessandra. She is much inclined
to the daughter of Messer Francesco Tana-
gli, as "it would be a good alliance, and of
all that have been offered she seems to have
the best qualities." "The one from Vernio
pleased me, but she is awkward and coun-
trified, they say." "I have heard that a
daughter of the Alberti is very beautiful;
and I will try to see her during these festi-
val days, and find out whether her father
would give her to
""
us.' "We will have a
number of them on hand, so that when the
time comes we can pick out the best one.
May God show us the right one." "I write
252
AT HOME IN ITALY.
of
to let you know that Sunday morning, when
I went to Santa Reparata [the Duomo] for
the early mass, as I have gone several morn-
ings, to try and get a look at Adimari's
daughter, who is in the habit of attending
that mass, by chance I found Tanagli's
daughter, there. Not knowing who she was,
I placed myself near her, and considered
her well. She seemed to me to be beauti-
ful and well made; as large as Caterina, or
larger; of good complexion, - none
these pale ones, but as if she was in health.
Her face is rather long, and her features are
not particularly delicate, but not at all or-
dinary; and by her walk and her whole ap-
pearance one could see that she is not by
any means dull [addormentata]. In fact,
it seemed to me that if her other qualities
are satisfactory she would not be a bad bar-
gain, but an honorable one. I followed her
out of church, and learned that she was a
Tanagli. As to the Adimari girl, I never
have been able to see her, . . . for she has
not been out as usual; and while I was
looking for her, behold, this one came along,
who does not generally go to mass at this
hour. I believe God brought her before me
in order that I should look at her, since I
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
253
had no expectation of seeing her there."
Afterwards, however, when she does get a
look at the daughter of Messer Adimari,
this indication of Providence seems to have
been forgotten, as it was she who ultimately
became Filippo's bride. Still another young
and lovely creature attracts attention, as she
is saying her prayers; but becoming aware
of Madonna Alessandra's scrutiny, and prob-
ably divining the reason of it, as soon as the
service is over she "rushes out of church
like the wind."
One may see the same scenes enacted in
the same place to-day; nor, in the fami-
lies who preserve the old aristocratic tradi-
tions, do the young people have much more
voice in their own marriage arrangements
than they did in Madonna Alessandra's day.
If the alliance is desirable to both families,
and the bride's dowry is satisfactory, the
thing is settled by the elders, and rarely op-
posed by the youth or the maiden. If they
fall in love with each other, so much the
better; if not, unless there is open repug-
nance on the part of one or the other, it is
not of great consequence. This is not paren-
tal tyranny, but custom; and nowhere is
custom more honored than in Italy. The
254
AT HOME IN ITALY.
girl of sixteen comes home from her convent
school, and is presented to her future hus-
band; dazzled by the new world opening
before her, the social life, the gifts, the
trousseau, she is a married woman be-
fore she has had time to accustom herself
to the change from her former monotonous
childhood. When her heart awakes, she
is already in bonds. But better is even an
unhappy marriage, in this traditional accep-
tation, than single life for a woman; and in-
deed the conventionalities which forbid the
unmarried woman, until she is forty or more,
to go out alone, or to lead an independent
existence in any way, make her case very
different from that of her sisters in Eng-
land and America, and drive her not un-
frequently to a conventual life as preferable
to that which she would lead at home.
It seems to have been in the times of
which we are speaking as in those which
Machiavelli depicts in his " Belphegor,"
"there were many noble citizens who had
plenty of daughters and but little money,
- and Madonna Alessandra complains that
"those who have other recommendations
99
are not beautiful.” “As for me,” she says,
"I don't want to have these frights in my
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
255
""
sight, for it is little pleasure one gets from
having them in the house! With all her
wisdom, she had a keen appreciation of ex-
ternals; and she was anxious that Filippo,
on his part, should do all possible honor to
his future bride. She wants his corbeille to
be worthy of his name and his means; and
she inclines to what is costly and durable in
the way of dress and ornaments. "If the
affair turns out well, as I trust it will, it
will be necessary for us to do things propor-
tionably well, for I should be proud to see
your bride beautiful and beautifully adorned.
And I would not have her poorer than others
as to jewels. Jewels are things which you
can afford to give her, and I know that you
can be well supplied with them at Naples,
so that you need not be parsimonious about
them. If clothes are not trimmed with
pearls, they must have some other trimming
which costs just as much, and is money
thrown away. So if you spend money for
what is useful, I shall encourage you."
Still Filippo delays to show any active
interest in the matter, and at last his mother
gets quite out of patience with him. "It
seems to me you are very much afraid to
take a wife, and I must say that you show
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
little steadfastness of purpose; for since you
resolved to marry, a hundred doubts appear
to have come into your mind." "You will
see that the thing is not so bad as it looks.
You ask if I do not think you might wait
a year or two longer. I tell you, frankly,
no."
It is much to be regretted that from 1465
to 1468 we have no letters, for these must
have been three of the most important and
joyful years of Madonna Alessandra's life.
In them her two chief desires were fulfilled,
the return of her sons from exile, and the
marriage of Filippo. The sentence of ban-
ishment was annulled after the downfall of
Luca Pitti and his party. Filippo came to
Florence in 1466, and almost immediately
married the beautiful and good Fiammetta
degli Adimari. She was of one of the best
families in Florence, and brought her hus-
band a large dowry. In the first letter that
is extant after this interval, Filippo has re-
turned to Naples for a time, and Fiammetta
is with her mother-in-law. She has already
two children, and the old house is enlivened,
for the grandmother, by their presence.
"You say," she writes to her son, "that
you need not recommend Fiammetta to my
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
257
care, and you say truly; for I do for her
even more than I would for an own child.
And I also take care of little Alfonso as
much as I can. But he is a terrible child;
he is always falling into rages; and he is
very thin, but nevertheless strong. Lucre-
zia [the infant] is a fine child, and resem-
bles Fiammetta: she is fair, like her, and
similarly made, and is bigger than Alfonso
was at her age. May God give her a long
life." "When Madonna Antonia comes back,
we will try to have her stay with us, and
pay her all the honors we can; for Fiam-
metta will then be up again. It would be
no trouble to me to do anything, if I were
stronger; but I am no longer as I was last
winter, when you told me I had taken a
new lease of life. I was ill all Holy Week
and over Easter; then I took medicine, but
it did not do me much good. I am old, and
when I think I shall be better I grow worse;
and so it will go on to the end. If I have
not written you as often as I wished, it has
been because, first, I have not felt well, and
then I have had a great deal to do. Fiam-
metta's baby was born, people were always
running in and out, and everything came
upon me. If I had no other hindrance than
17
258
AT HOME IN ITALY.
Alfonso, that would be enough; but it is a
pleasant one. He is always running after
me, like the chicken after the hen."
The mother is growing old, but she still
keeps the guidance of family affairs in her
hands, even with her married children, after
the Italian fashion unto this day. Fiam-
metta is invited to the marriage of Lorenzo
de' Medici with Clarice Orsini. She does
not care to go, being still feeble, and hav-
ing, like her modern sisters upon similar
occasions, "nothing to wear." Madonna
Alessandra thinks she is right, "for if she
went it would cost some hundreds of florins.
They are going to wear dresses of brocade,
and she would be obliged to have the same;
besides, she is ill supplied with jewels.
"She asks me to tell you that she wants a
new serge dress before the feast of San
Giovanni, and begs you will get it of Lorenzo
for her, for she is really in need of it.'
""
The seventy-second and last letter of Ma-
donna Alessandra is dated the 14th of April,
1470. It is chiefly occupied with business
details, which show that she was as actively
employed as ever. She has bought a sup-
ply of grain, for which she has had to give
a high price; “it always happens that we
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
259
have to buy when things are dear." She
has had improvements made in the sta-
bles, and she hopes that Filippo will tell
her exactly what day he may be expected,
so that she can put everything in order.
There is some public news, too, that is
rather exciting: the podesta has hanged
fourteen men concerned in a tumult at
Prato; and there has been a great earth-
quake. "Between one dreadful thing and
another, I am half beside myself. I think
the world is coming to an end; so that it
is well to have our minds prepared for it,
and to be ready." The writer died eleven
months later. In her last days she had the
comfort of seeing her son Lorenzo married,
but he continued to live at Naples. On the
11th of March, 1471, Filippo makes this
entry in his diary: "This morning, be-
tween ten and eleven o'clock, Madonna
Alessandra passed peacefully away from
this life, with all the sacraments. She
was buried honorably in the church of
Santa Maria Novella, and due masses were
said for the repose of her soul. All her
clothing, in accordance with her expressed
wish, was given to the poor.
99
Eighteen years later Filippo Strozzi laid
260
AT HOME IN ITALY.
the foundations of the palace in the Via
Tornabuoni. Of his father's family, only
his sister Alessandra was living to witness
the height of prosperity which he had
reached. Lorenzo had died in 1479, and
Caterina, the wife of Marco Parenti, of
whose bridal we have heard so much, passed
away in 1481, deeply lamented by her hus-
band, who had found his life with her "most
joyful and happy." The beautiful Fiam-
metta, too, was gone. She lived only till
1476, and Filippo had married Selvaggia
Gianfigliazzi, by whom he already had two
sons.
Filippo's son Lorenzo, in his biography
of his father, gives the following account
of the preparations for building the palace,
which well accord with the prudent and
shrewd disposition of the builder: "Filippo,
therefore, having a large family, and being
more eager for fame than for riches, not
knowing any surer way to leave a memorial
of himself, and having a natural inclination
for architecture and not a little knowledge
of it, conceived the idea of building a hab-
itation which should do honor to himself
and all of his name in Italy and abroad. But
this was attended with no little difficulty,
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
261
it being possible that he who had the su-
preme power [Lorenzo de' Medici] might
imagine that such splendor was likely to
obscure his own; and Filippo feared thus
to awaken envy. Therefore he began to
give out that, having a numerous offspring
and so small a house, it was necessary that
he who had brought children into the world
should also provide a place for them to
dwell; and that this could be done by him
much better than by them after his death.
Thus in a quiet way he consulted masons
and architects, and sometimes would seem
about to begin to build; and then, again,
he would appear irresolute, and loath to
spend in a short time what it had taken
him so many years of toil to accumulate,
cunningly dissimulating only in order to at-
tain his end more easily; asserting always
that all he wanted was a citizen's house,
commodious and convenient, but not osten-
tatious. But the masons and architects, as
their manner is, exceeded all his plans,
which really was agreeable to Filippo, how-
ever much he might pretend the contrary,
saying that they forced him to what he
would not and could not afford. Besides
this, he who ruled over Florence was desir-
262
AT HOME IN ITALY.
ous that the city should be beautified in ev-
ery possible way, and began to inter-
est himself in Filippo's project, asking to
see the designs; and when he had examined
them, besides many other expensive addi-
tions, he suggested a façade of unhewn
stones. Filippo, in proportion as he was
encouraged, appeared to draw back, declar-
ing that he could not have such a façade, it
being too expensive for the house of a plain
citizen; that he was building for use, and
not for show; that he intended to use the
ground-floor for shops, which would bring
in a good rent to his children. This was
vehemently opposed, on account of ugliness
and inconvenience, and the trouble it would
cause the occupants of the house. Filippo
still feigned to object, often complaining to
his friends that he had begun an undertak-
ing of which God only could tell whether
the result would be satisfactory, and that,
rather than to find himself so involved, he
wished he had never thought of building."
Having thus appeased the vanity and neu-
tralized the envy of Lorenzo, he went on
vigorously with his preparations, and records
that "on the 16th of August, 1489, as the
sun rose over the mountains," he laid the
A FLORENTINE FAMILY.
263
first stone of his house, " in the name of
God, and as a good foundation for me and
my descendants." He also had masses sung
at several churches and convents which had
been endowed by him, and he gave alms
and gifts, and invited the architect and
master builder, with some of his friends, to
dine with him that day. We get a curious
picture of those times as we read the whole
account in the pages of Lorenzo's Life of
Filippo. Besides his prayers to God, Fi-
lippo had been careful to consult a distin-
guished astrologer, to make sure that the
influences of the stars were favorable. On
the 16th of August, Cor Leonis, "a most
fortunate star," was in the ascendant, and
the sun was in the Lion, "which signifies
that the posterity of the founder shall con-
tinue to dwell in that house unto the end
of their line."
His posterity still dwell there, but he
himself lived to see the massive walls rise
but a little above their foundations. Only
two courses of the ponderous blocks of stone
had been laid when, in 1491, he was car-
ried to sleep with his fathers in Santa Maria
Novella.
We cannot follow the fortunes of the fam-
264
AT HOME IN ITALY.
ily further. At this point their history is
taken up by T. A. Trollope, in his "Life of
Filippo Strozzi, the Younger," whose career
was as different from his father's as a drama
is different from a quiet fireside story.
CAMALDOLI.
In a previous sketch I described a look
into the Casentino valley from the top of
the Consuma Pass. That look was so en-
joyable that the desire to have a nearer
view of that much-praised part of Tuscany
grew upon us, and resulted in a plan to
spend a few days at the convent of Camal-
doli in July. At this season the Consuma
Pass by day is a fiery trial to man and
beast; so we resolved to make the journey
by night. It was a beautiful moonlight
evening that we chose; and as we passed
over the bridge from Pontassieve and up thei
first zigzags of the long ascent, the west was
still all aglow with the sunset light, and vil-
lage and river and vineyards were bathed
in its radiance. The air was fresh and de-
licious after the intense heat of the last days
of June in Florence; nor did it become too
cool even on the top of the pass, which we
reached a little after midnight; and then
266
AT HOME IN ITALY.
the quick descent to the plain below awak-
ened us from the half-dreamy state into
which the slow pace of climbing and the
soft wind had lulled us.
We passed many
landmarks, made famous by Dante, in a
darkness that made them undistinguishable;
and also it must be acknowledged that after
midnight poetic and historical associations
do not seem to have that intense interest to
the traveler which at other hours they
would possess. The drive was certainly a
few miles too long for comfort; and when,
at half-past two in the morning, we aroused
the sleeping landlord of the inn at Ponte a
Poppi, we hailed his lantern and his drowsy
announcement that our rooms were ready
with greater enthusiasm than we had felt
in passing the battle-ground of Campaldino
or the place where Master Adam, the for-
ger, was burnt alive.
We were soon asleep in beds which, in
other circumstances, would not have invited
repose, and which we were equally glad to
quit in the early morning. We took our
way now across the valley, passing the pic-
turesque little walled town of Poppi, which,
with its fine old town hall, resembling the
Palazzo Vecchio of Florence, would have
CAMALDOLI.
267
well repaid a visit; but the sun was getting
high and we were anxious to reach our jour-
ney's end. How fresh and fair the country
looked after the abundant rains of May and
June! The vegetation is sturdier and more
luxuriant than in the lower Val d'Arno, and
the great chestnut-trees give beauty to every
hill. Here the Arno is a baby stream just
emancipated from the mountain fastnesses
and full of sparkle and frolic as it runs south-
ward nearly to Arezzo; then doubling on
itself, it turns northward and assumes the
gravity of a full-grown river, flowing sul-
lenly at the bottom of a ditch past Florence
and Pisa to the sea. The green wall to-
ward the east grew more distinct, and as
the road began to wind among the foot-hills
we hoped to catch a glimpse of our destina-
tion. But Camaldoli is not on the open hill-
side like Vallombrosa, but hidden away in
the recesses of the mountains unseen till
close at hand. At Ponte di Bifolco we
found horses awaiting us sorry animals
and hardly equal to the task before them.
However, they did scramble up one of the
worst paths I ever traveled without serious
mishap, and when we could give attention
to the scenery about us, it was charming
268
AT HOME IN ITALY.
enough to console us for all fatigues and
vexations. The ground was a carpet of
flowers; the wild mountain strawberry, just
ripe, gave forth its delicious fragrance; in-
numerable brooks danced across our path,
and the mountains hemmed us in more
closely at every step.
The convent buildings - great irregular
masses of brownish-gray are set in a
grassy valley on the brink of a torrent. The
name Camaldoli is a corruption of Campo
Maldoli, and these lands belonged to the
counts of Maldoli, by whom they were given
to St. Romuald, the founder of the Camal-
dolese order of monks. St. Romuald was
of a noble family of Ravenna, and lived in
the tenth century. He was induced to en-
ter upon a monastic life by the horror he
experienced at seeing his father kill an ad-
versary in a duel; and the rule of the con-
vent he entered seeming too lax to his enthu-
siastic zeal, he left it to lead a hermit life in
the deserts of Catalonia. Gradually he be-
came the centre of a group of ascetics; and
desiring to find a fit spot for their establish-
ment, he penetrated these Apennine forest
depths, whose "horrid" precipices and rigid
climate seemed to him fit accompaniments
CAMALDOLI.
269
T
to a life of penitence and prayer. As the
monkish legend goes, the saint had wan-
dered up to the spot where he afterward
built his cell, and being fatigued he laid him-
self down under a tree to sleep. In a dream
he saw, like Jacob, a ladder reaching from
earth to heaven, but instead of angels, the
monks of his order, robed in white, were as-
cending thereon. Filled with fervor at this
vision, St. Romuald was hastening to com-
municate it to the bishops of Arezzo, when,
on his way down the mountain, he met the
young Count Maldolo with a hunting party,
and recognized his face as that of one of the
monks seen in his dream. On his part the
noble youth eagerly welcomed the saint and
related that a similar vision had been vouch-
safed also to him, which both regarded as a
sign that that spot had been chosen of God
for the dwelling of his saints. Count Mal-
dolo then offered as a gift the villa he pos-
sessed on the hillside (which was the nu-
cleus of the present convent, and a part of
which still remains), and the lands in his
possession then; and not content with this,
himself prayed to be received into the order,
of which he became one of the greatest or-
naments.
270
AT HOME IN ITALY.
The Camaldolese rule is that of the Ben-
edictines, with added severities of discipline.
St. Romuald's design was to combine the
advantages of conventual and hermit life;
and in addition to the main convent he
founded a "Sacred Hermitage "— which is
a most curious monument of medieval life,
but little changed in its important features
by the lapse of ages. It is situated about
an hour's walk from the convent, by a path
leading steeply upward through thick for-
ests of pine and chestnut, where the sun
can hardly penetrate at midday. On the
way are several shrines and crosses, com-
memorating remarkable deliverances of St.
Romuald from the power of evil spirits.
The "Sacred Hermitage" is a walled vil-
lage of about twenty stone cottages. The
entrance gate is surmounted by a heavy,
well-wrought cornice, and the walls are solid
and about twenty feet high. A straight,
paved walk leads from the gate to the mor-
tuary chapel at the farther end of the in-
closure, and similar walks cross it at right
angles. In the centre of the inclosure stands
the church, a large and handsome building,
erected on the site of the ancient one in
1713, but containing little of interest except
CAMALDOLI.
271
the original chapel of St. Romuald, which,
except that the walls are lined with wood,
remains as when he prayed in it eight cen-
turies ago. In another chapel is preserved
the stone with which he pounded corn, and
his dwelling is also shown.
All the monasteries having now become,
with their lands, government property, the
few monks who remain in them scarcely
give an idea of what these communities were
in more flourishing days. Only twelve are
left at the "Sacred Hermitage," subsisting
on their pension from government and the
offerings of the pious; and as there are few
new recruits to a system so out of harmony
with the spirit of the age, most of those who
remain are men past middle age, too old
and listless to transplant themselves to new
The monk who in answer to our
request was deputed to show us the build-
ings, had been forty years an inhabitant of
the place. He was a mild, scholarly-look-
ing man, a figure that one would have liked
to paint, as in his exquisitely soft, creamy-
white woolen robe and cowl he walked be-
side us with bent head and folded hands.
He had come to the hermitage at the age
of twenty-six. I longed to know what
scenes.
272
AT HOME IN ITALY.
""
tragedy or disappointments had driven him
thither, when he had passed the age of
youthful enthusiasms, and had not arrived
at that of satiety. But he was not disposed
to be communicative, and his dignity of
manner forbade inquisitiveness. He took
us to one of the uninhabited cottages, — for
what are called "cells are in reality com-
fortable little dwellings, and if one must
live a hermit's life, it could not be done in
a more desirable way. All the dwellings
are on the same plan, but some are a lit-
tle larger than the others. Each is sur-
rounded by a wall, and has its garden, per-
haps twenty feet square, where the occu-
pant is at liberty to cultivate what he
pleases. A little piazza, with the trunk of a
tree planed and squared for a bench as its
only furniture, runs along the side of the
house, and on it the diminutive windows
open. Entering the door, which is signed
with a great black cross, you find yourself
in a brick paved vestibule, with an empty
chamber where a spring of water is perpet-
ually flowing into a basin on the left, and
the living rooms on the right. These con-
sist of a study just large enough for one per-
son to enter and sit down, a dining and
+
i
CAMALDOLI.
273
sleeping room about ten feet square, with a
corner cut off for the fire-place, and the bed
built into the wall in the fashion of a ship's
berth. St. Romuald slept on cane matting,
but his more luxurious disciples are allowed
a straw mattress and a blanket. A small
table, two chairs, and a cupboard complete
the furnishing. Food is passed to the occu-
pant through a hole in the outer wall; all
being prepared in a common kitchen and
brought to the hermits once a day. They
never eat meat; and their portion of fish on
all except fast days consists of six ounces of
fresh, or four of salt fish ; or, instead, three
eggs. Their abstinence consists in eating
no eggs or anything cooked with oil or but-
ter. Opening out of the dining-room is an
oratory, and behind this a room where the
supply of wood is stored. And on these
heights there are few months in the year
when a fire is not necessary. On the July
afternoon when we visited the hermitage,
the wind was so chilling that, although we
were dressed as for winter, we were fain to
shelter ourselves from it. What must it
be on a winter's night when the tramon-
tana is in its fury, and the snow is piled
to the eaves of these dwellings?
18
274
AT HOME IN ITALY.
But no snow or tempests are allowed to
intermit the religious duties of these monks.
Obliged to silence for a large portion of the
time, in their intercourse with each other,
seven times in the twenty-four hours they
unite their voices in the chants of the
church. They rise for matins at half-past
one in the morning, and with lighted lan-
terns wend their way to the choir. If the
snow has fallen so thickly as to render it
impossible for them to pass through it, a
certain number, detailed for the purpose,
shovel paths to each dwelling. A still se-
verer seclusion is permitted to those who
feel a vocation for it. We were shown one
of the smallest of the cottages, in which the
"Blessed Martino" lived shut up for forty
years, never once passing the threshold.
But to the others it is permitted on two
days of the week in winter and three in
summer to converse together, and to take
walks within certain limits outside the in-
closure. We met two monks in the forest
as we went down the hill. They were
standing near some mighty trees that had
just been felled, and it seemed as if they
were lamenting over them as old friends.
Three crosses mark the limit of three walks,
CAMALDOLI.
275
and within these for 800 years no foot of
woman ever entered, except once, when a
princess of the house of Medici, who had a
great desire to behold the place, disguised
herself in men's clothing and was admitted.
But so stricken with remorse was she on
beholding the sacred spot, that she hastened
to the Pope to confess her fault, and as a
penance for it was commanded to build a
new cottage in the inclosure, which she did.
Not the least of the attractions of Camal-
doli is that it was a favorite resort of Lo-
renzo de' Medici and his "Platonic Acad-
emy." Accompanied by his favorites, Mar-
silius Ficinus, Leon Battista Alberti, and
Christopher Landino, he used to flee to
these solitudes from time to time, and found
a kindred spirit in the Abbot Mariotti, who
took part in their discussions and enter-
tained his noble guests with princely hos-
pitality.
Reumont, in his "Life of Lorenzo de'
Medici," has given a striking picture of one
of these reunions. "The abbot," he says,
66
as host, was the centre of the circle, but
it was Alberti who, with his many-sided
knowledge and easy command of it, gave
the tone to the discourse.'
276
AT HOME IN ITALY.
On the morning after their arrival, the
whole company, having assisted at mass in
the church of the convent, moved along the
pleasant woodland path leading to the sum-
mit of the mountain ridge, past the little
group of dwellings and gardens, the place
where, according to the legend, the saint
had had a dream which led him to change his
black Benedictine robe for the white one
which continued to be worn at Camaldoli,
as it is represented in Andrea Sacchi's fine
picture at the Vatican. We know not
whether the travelers reached the neighbor-
ing mountain ridge, the watershed of Italy,
whence the eye looks down on Romagna,
and takes in the wide sweep of the far-off
Adriatic. The narrator makes the company
halt on the height near a spring, under the
shelter of a mighty beech; a tree which,
defying the mountain storms, overtops all
other trees on the Apennines, whose brow
it adorns here in the midst of fine pasture
lands. Here Alberti, taking the lead in the
conversation, dilated on the good effects of
retirement and meditation on the mind of
the statesman and scholar, and showed that
only when the mind is set free from contact
with the individual does it become capable
CAMALDOLI.
277
of embracing the whole. Then turning to
Lorenzo and Guilano de' Medici, the speaker
reminded them that their father's failing
health would soon call them to the guidance
of state affairs, which he said were already
in some degree intrusted to their care, rec-
ommending to them the value of occasional
retirement in order to the better perform-
ance of their public duties. "During the
three following days Alberti expanded the
connection of the Æneid with Platonic Phil-
osophy."
The "strangers' building" remains much
as it was in Lorenzo's day. The great hall,
with its raised, inlaid seats and heavy chairs,
is a stately room, commanding a lovely
prospect of the valley. At one end is a
marble tablet with an inscription, commem-
orating the visits of Lorenzo and his friends;
and the walls are hung with portraits and
copies of celebrated pictures. The adjoin-
ing suite of rooms, high and dimly lighted,
with immense beds of the Medicean period,
is gloomy and ghostly enough. In the
church are some pictures by Vasari, but
nothing of especial merit. The flower gar-
den, encircled by the cloisters, full of choice
roses carefully tended, is a bright bit of
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
color amid these sombre surroundings.
Charming paths lead in all directions
through the pine groves, and those who are
fond of climbing may, in two hours, ascend
to the very summit of the ridge, and, if the
day be clear, behold both the Adriatic and
the Mediterranean. A longer excursion is
to Monte Falterona, from whose sides spring
the Arno and the Tiber, and whence the
view is said to be magnificent.
The fisherman and the hunter may here
find rare sport. Wolves and eagles still
haunt the remote depths of this wild region,
and occasionally carry off a lamb from the
flock. The air is so keen as to be almost
painful to some persons; but to those with
lung complaints the odor of the hemlocks is
healing; and a liqueur called " Tears of the
Hemlock," which is made at the convent
pharmacy, is reputed to possess great virtue
as a tonic. It had a lovely color, but the
taste was not such as to recommend it as a
beverage to my palate, at least, and indeed
was so extremely disappointing that I fear
my expression of countenance was but too
intelligible to those who had kindly pressed
me to partake of it as una delizia. The
climate of Camaldoli has something of se-
CAMALDOLI.
279
verity, even in midsummer. There is al-
ways a wind like that from an Alpine gla-
cier; and the evenings are not infrequently
so cold as to make a fire necessary. It is
hardly a place to linger long in; and I was
not sorry to escape from its beautiful but
somewhat melancholy scenery and return
to the milder air and gayer aspect of the
plains below.
•
VALLOMBROSA.
"He sang of Eden's paradise, and smiled,
Remembering Vallombrosa. Therefore is
The place divine to English man and child.”
E. B. BROWNING.
PROBABLY the first suggestion of desire
to visit Vallombrosa comes to all English-
speaking travelers from old association with
Milton's comparison, so well known as
hardly to need repeating here:
"Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades
High overarch'd embower."
And it is not a slight tribute to the genius
of the poet that this is so. But for this
illumining ray, Vallombrosa would have
been to us only as any other of the lovely
nooks with which il bel paese abounds, of
which it is impossible for the ordinary trav-
eler to see the hundredth part. What
Dante had done for many other places in
Italy, Milton did for Vallombrosa. His
comparison of multitudes to leaves was not
VALLOMBROSA.
281
*
new nor specially praiseworthy. But the
unexpected introduction of such a peaceful
image into the description of the "inflamed
sea" gives us a relief like that of an exqui-
site sudden modulation in the midst of a
stormy symphony. The very names of Val-
lombrosa and Etruria, too, are musical; the
tongue and ear dwell with pleasure upon
them; and the imagination supplies all the
charm of Italian skies and scenery. But
the chief interest of the comparison lies in
the fact that when Milton wished to use it,
instead of all the English forest haunts
which he knew so well, there came sponta-
neously to his mind the vision of this far-off,
upland valley; thus showing how deeply
its beauty had engraven itself upon his rec-
ollection. He saw again the floods of sun-
shine on the yellowing chestnut leaves, and
breathed the fragrant air, and was hushed
by the silence and sacredness of the place.
Perhaps, too, out of the tumult and disap-
pointment of mature age, his thoughts turned
back to rest for a moment on those un-
troubled days when he tasted, with the zest
of a poet and a scholar, the beauties of na-
ture and of art in Italy. We may fancy
that it was with an effort that he brought
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
himself back to the present, and to his great
theme. And then, as if rousing himself to
shake off this softer mood, the simile which
follows returns to the minor key again, as
he likens the infernal regions to
"The scattered sedge
Afloat when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red Sea coast.'
Of Milton's Italian journey we have, un-
fortunately, few particulars. We know that
it was undertaken with the best advantages
of money, credentials, and counsel. Of the
latter, perhaps, Sir Henry Wotton's letter,
repeating to his young friend the advice
which had been given to himself in Italy, to
keep his thoughts close and his looks open
(pensieri stretti e viso sciolto), was the most
useful. Milton arrived in Florence early in
September, 1638, and remained there two
months. His fame as a poet- for he had
already written "Comus" and "Lycidas,"
"Il Penseroso" and "L'Allegro had
preceded him, and he was warmly welcomed
in the highest circles of society, and ex-
changed literary flatteries with the notabili-
ties of the period. "No time will ever abol-
ish," says he, in the "Defensio Secunda,"
"the agreeable recollections which I cherish
""
""
VALLOMBROSA.
283
of Jacob Gaddi, Carlo Dati, Frescobaldo
Cultillero, Bonomathei, Clementillo Fran-
cesco, and others." And in the " Areopagi-
tica” he makes this further allusion to Italy :
"There it was that I found and visited the
famous Galileo grown old, a prisoner to the
Inquisition for thinking in astronomy oth-
erwise than the Franciscan and Dominican
licensers thought."
He was back again at Florence in the
spring of 1639, after a winter spent in the
south, principally at Naples, where he was
so outspoken against popery that he was
warned not to go to Rome, as his life would
be in danger. He disregarded this caution,
however, and did not abate his freedom of
speech. "By the favor of God," he records,
"I got back to Florence, where I was re-
ceived with as much affection as if I had
returned to my native country."
The visit to Vallombrosa was without
doubt made during Milton's first stay in
Florence, as he says explicitly that during
the second he made no excursions except to
Lucca. He passed over the mountains to
Geneva, and reached home after an absence
of about fifteen months.
It was a bright day early in October,
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
1877, when I first visited Vallombrosa.
The mountain on which it is situated is
plainly visible from Florence, and my eyes
had often been drawn thither with an irre-
sistible attraction. The excursion is pecul-
iarly one for the early autumn; for the
route along the valley of the Arno and on
the western slope of the hills is too much
exposed to the sun to be agreeable during
the summer heats; and as in America so in
Italy, October is the one perfect month of
the year for out-of-door pleasures.
Vallombrosa is eighteen miles from Flor-
ence. To go thither it is usual to take the
Roman train as far as Pontassieve (about
three quarters of an hour); but it is far
preferable to drive, as the distance can ea-
sily be accomplished in two hours, and the
difference in enjoyment more than compen-
sates the difference in time. We leave
Florence by the Porta alla Croce, and pass
along the Via Aretina, the great thorough-
fare to Florence from the east, which is full
at this morning hour of market wagons,
heavily laden donkeys and their shrill-voiced
drivers, fruit venders with their hand-carts
piled with luscious grapes, and calessini with
groups of ruddy, laughing peasant women
VALLOMBROSA.
285
driving merrily into town to sell their straw
plaits, or bargain for winter gear under the
arches of the Mercato Nuovo. We are glad
to come to the end of this closely built sub-
urb at last, and though still upon the high-
road, to have the freshness of the morning
fields about us, and the glittering river at
our side. This is the Val d'Arno, and we
follow the course of the stream, which,
shrunken from summer drought, now winds
in a narrow channel through its broad peb-
bly bed. The hills rise closely to right and
left, thickly set with the villas of the Flor-
entines, amid their olive groves and vine-
yards, with here and there a little village
nestling close to the river. It was as oblig-
atory in the olden time for every Italian
family of any pretensions to eminence to own
at least two or three country places as for a
Nantucketer to have an interest in whale
ships. They might be sadly neglected, and
the houses bare and comfortless, but they
were no less a pledge of good and regular
standing in society; and though hard times
and a new régime have changed matters
somewhat for the worse with many of the
proprietors, they still cling to their landed
possessions with great tenacity. One may
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
remain in the city all summer with social
impunity; neither the baths nor the moun-
tains are imperatively prescribed; but it is
not "the thing" to be seen there in Sep-
tember and October. Nay, in some of the
smaller cities, where the old customs linger
longest, the matter is carried so far that
those who have no villas, and cannot by
any means procure an invitation to other
people's, deliberately shut themselves up at
home with the front shutters closed, and are
charitably supposed to be in villeggiatura for
the period required by fashion. The time of
vintage is indeed a charming one in the coun-
try; it was just over as we passed through
the Val d'Arno, and both masters and peas-
ants looked happy, for it had been a fruit-
ful season, and wine and oil and bread were
plentiful.
Pontassieve is a busy little town at the
mouth of the Sieve, a small tributary of the
Arno. We clattered through the paved
main street, between rows of staring conta-
dini, and accompanied by a dozen gamins,
who held out their grimy hands for centes-
imi; and passing over the picturesque
bridge, high above the Sieve (and doubtless
none too high when the spring floods swell
VALLOMBROSA.
287
*
in one night the diminutive streamlet to a
raging torrent), we came out again into the
open country. The road begins to ascend,
though still keeping the course of the river.
Grim-looking buildings, half castle, half
farm-house, some of them evidently rem-
nants of older and more pretentious edifices,
crown the heights about us.
After some
miles we left the highway to Arezzo, which
we had been following, and turned to the
left, zigzagging up the face of the hill. The
pretty village of Pelago lies in a hollow to
the left; but on our way the houses became
rarer and the views finer as we went up and
up, sometimes among chestnut groves, and
sometimes on the bare hillside. The chest-
nuts were noble trees, the finest I had seen
in Tuscany. The fruit had filled out well
that year, our driver told us, with a satisfac-
tion which we, who knew how largely the
Italian peasantry depend upon the chestnut
for winter food, could well appreciate. We
climbed a bad bit of road, and turned the
shoulder of a hill, and there in front of us
was the hamlet of Tosi, at the foot of the
Pratomagno Mountain. It was seemingly
near, but separated from us by a deep ra-
vine, around which the road must make a
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AT HOME IN ITALY.
circuit of a mile before we crossed the
bridge over the stream at its bottom, and
were set down close to the mill of Tosi, the
stopping-place for all wheeled vehicles. It
is a lovely spot, and we were not sorry to
wait, and enjoy the view for a half-hour,
while the driver went up to the village on
its rocky height a hundred feet above us, to
procure conveyance for the remainder of the
way. The air was fine, with just enough of
the morning's frost in it to give it vigor;
the sun was only just peeping into this
dell, though it was not far from noon; the
village clamor did not reach us here, and
all was quiet except an occasional rush of
water from the mill-race and the tinkle of
the sheep bells on the hills. The heights
whither we were bound were still half-veiled
in mist, as they had been all the morn-
ing, but as it opened from time to time we
could see the patches of snow left by the
last week's storm on the bare mountain-
top above Vallombrosa.
After the usual delay the guides appeared
with donkeys, rather sorry-looking animals,
it must be confessed, but better than the
treggia, to which, unless you were a pedes-
trian, you were then obliged to intrust your-
VALLOMBROSA.
289
self. This treggia is a sort of sledge, with
a stout wicker basket fastened upon it, and
half filled with straw, upon which (or upon
chairs, if you choose, but you will not af
ter a short trial!) you dispose yourself and
your belongings as best you may, holding
on for dear life to the side of the basket.
The treggia is drawn by oxen, and is incom-
parable for safety and discomfort.
Nothing could be more delightful, how-
ever, than the forest path upon which we
entered immediately after quitting the mill
of Tosi. The noonday sun turned the chest-
nut leaves to gold, the birds sang in the tree-
tops, and fluttered about us without fear ;
fresh ferns and delicate heather bordered
the path, and mosses clung to every rock.
Through the forest openings we caught
glimpses of the world below and the brilliant
sky above: it was a picture full of glowing
color, and yet of repose. Suddenly we saw
rising before us a wall of shadow, and in
another moment, out of this atmosphere of
light and warmth, we had passed, as through
a cathedral door, into the gloom and chill
and silence of the pine forest. The pine
needles under our feet hushed every sound
of footsteps; the trees shot up a hundred
19
290
AT HOME IN ITALY.
feet or more, so close together that scarcely
a ray of sunlight reached the ground; no
bird's voice was heard here, and not a flower
was seen.
It took twenty minutes of steep climbing
to cross this pine belt, and then we came
out into a soft green meadow, in the midst.
of which, at the end of a long, shaded
avenue, rose the pile of buildings which
constitute the convent of Vallombrosa. We
were the only guests at the primitive ho-
tel which had been improvised out of the
ancient forestieria, or strangers' quarter, a
long, low building just outside the convent
walls. The summer visitors had been driven
away by the cold weather of the preceding
week; from June to September there were
always as many as could be accommodated
(not more than thirty), and Vallombrosa
during "the season" presented on a small
scale the attractions and distractions of
other summer resorts. We were not sorry
to find it deserted, and thus to put our-
selves more in harmony with the spirit of
the place and of those who anciently inhab-
ited it.
This level spot or pause in the mountain-
side is some three thousand feet above the
VALLOMBROSA.
291
level of the sea. It comprises but a few
acres, and close behind it the Pratomagno
rises to the height of another thousand feet.
The pine belt reaches half-way up this peak,
which is called the Secchietta, and from
whose top a magnificent prospect is beheld.
Eastward lies the fertile Casentino valley,
bounded by the main chain of the Apen-
nines, among which is prominent the lofty
Monte Falterona, the birthplace of the
Arno and the Tiber. Westward the eye
wanders over the loveliest part of Tuscany.
Florence and its Duomo are distinctly
seen; the Arno and its tributaries are like
silver threads; the hills and valleys are
dotted with white villages; and in the far
distance, beyond the southernmost peaks of
the Carrara mountains, stretches the glitter-
ing line of the Mediterranean.
Those who have not the strength for the
hour's hard work which it requires to ascend
the Secchietta may enjoy the best part of
the westward view at the Paradisino, a lit
tle building ten minutes' walk above the
convent, and so situated as to command,
through a gap in the hills, a prospect of
the Val d'Arno, which is shut out from the
convent itself. For the latter, probably
292
AT HOME IN ITALY.
shelter from the winter winds was more con-
sidered in locating it than the beauty of the
view; indeed, in general the dwellers in
convents are entirely indifferent to nature.
"We do not come here to look at the moun-
tains," was the reply of a monk to a trav-
eler who congratulated him on the fine sit-
uation of his Alpine monastery.
The afternoon of our October day fulfilled
in beauty the promise of the morning. We
wandered through the pine groves, inhaling
their delicious fragrance; we sat on the soft
turf of the convent meadow, and listened to
the torrent which rushes down beside it, and
looked out over the fair landscape, identify-
ing here and there a point familiar to us;
we planned excursions on some future day
to the convents of Camaldoli and Alvernia,
still deeper in the mountain recesses. We
saw the sunset from the heights above the
valley, and when the frosty night air drove
us in-doors we gathered around such a huge
wood fire as I had not seen before in Italy,
and passed a long evening happily in hear-
ing and telling all that could be remembered
by one and another of our party in regard
to the history of Vallombrosa. The ancient
chronicles, which it would have been charm-
VALLOMBROSA.
293
ing to read on the spot, were transferred
with the rest of the convent library, at the
time of the suppression of the monasteries,
to the Biblioteca Nazionale at Florence.
The order of Vallombrosans was founded
in the early part of the eleventh century,
by St. Giovanni Gualberto, of Florence.
His story has been so often told that it is
not necessary to do more than recall its out-
lines to the reader. Every habitué of Flor-
ence thinks of him as he visits San Miniato,
and perhaps, for the sake of the old legend,
takes the little path down the hillside in
which eight hundred years ago Gualberto
met the murderer of his brother, and a sud-
den thought of our Lord's death upon that
day for it was a Good Friday — stayed
his hand as he drew the sword to kill him.
In deep emotion he went on his way after
having pardoned and embraced his enemy;
and kneeling before the altar in the church
of San Miniato, to Gualberto's excited mind
the figure upon the great crucifix seemed to
bow its head in answer to his thanksgiving
that he had been spared the shedding of
blood. His revulsion of feeling was not
only momentary: he became a Benedictine
monk and took up his abode in the convent
294
AT HOME IN ITALY.
of San Miniato. Longing for a still se-
verer way of life, he resolved after some
years to seek a dwelling in the wilderness,
and with two others of the same mind he
sought the hillsides which he had so often
contemplated, and which seemed to promise
a peaceful solitude. He was not long al-
lowed to enjoy it, however; the fame of his
sanctity, and of his miracles spread abroad,
and he became the founder of a new branch
of the Benedictine order. The Vallombro-
sans prospered and increased until even in
Gualberto's life-time they had acquired sev-
eral dependencies, and were well-known
throughout Italy. Of the saint himself, the
most marvelous traditions exist. It is told
how, when he arrived upon the mountain,
then only a habitation of wild beasts, finding
no better shelter, he laid himself down to
sleep under a beech-tree, which immediately
bent down its branches to form a covering
for him. Ever after this tree had the priv-
ilege of putting forth its leaves earlier and
keeping them later than any other tree of
the forest and was called the Sacred Beech.
At Gualberto's prayer angels bring food,
pani bianchissimi to the starving monks;
the devil tempts him to throw himself down
VALLOMBROSA.
295
upon a rock, which becomes soft as wax at
his touch, and keeps the impression of his
body; and he brings on a terrible storm at
the approach of a hostile band. He died
in 1073, repeating with his last breath the
words of the forty-second Psalm, "My
soul thirsteth for God." He lies buried in
the church of San Salvi, just outside the
gates of Florence. Beneath all this incrus-
tation of myth, we can trace the lineaments
of a strong, noble, and impulsive soul, seek-
ing God in the only way in which it was
deemed possible to come near to Him. Hu-
mility and uprightness were his most con-
spicuous traits; he was a stern reprover of
the simoniacal practices so common among
religious orders, and did his utmost to pro-
mote honesty and simplicity of living in his
own. He was canonized only twenty years
after his death. The Vallombrosan order
speedily became one of the richest and most
powerful in Italy. The celebrated Countess
Matilda conferred upon it lands and privi-
leges; and before it was a hundred years
old it possessed no less than fifty abbeys.
The abbots of Vallombrosa sat in the Flor-
entine Senate, with the title of Counts of
Montevelde and Gualdo; they wielded tem-
296
AT HOME IN ITALY.
poral as well as spiritual authority in their
domains, and were renowned for their learn-
ing and courtesy. Ariosto mentions this
convent as "ricca e bella non men che relig-
iosa, e cortese a chiunque venia."
At the time of Milton's visit the Vallom-
brosan order was at its high tide of pros-
perity. Its revenues were enormous. The
convent of San Salvi and the church of the
Santa Trinità in Florence belonged to it; in
the latter was preserved the marvelous cru-
cifix which had wrought such a change in
the life of St. Gualberto; and the refectory
of the former was illuminated by Andrea
del Sarto's fresco of the Last Supper, to be-
hold the still beautiful remains of which
every visitor to Florence makes pilgrim-
age. For the Vallombrosans, Cimabue had
painted his celebrated Madonna; and over
the high altar of the Vallombrosa church
was an Assumption by Perugino. Raphael
himself had visited the sacred valley, and
left traces of his genius there in the por-
traits of two of the brotherhood. Vallom-
brosa was one of the noted places to which
the attention of a scholarly stranger would
be sure to be directed. We may be certain
that Milton spent the three days allotted to
VALLOMBROSA:
297
conventual hospitality in continual enjoy-
ment, not only of nature, but of those treas-
ures of art and learning which must have
seemed doubly precious in that lonely spot,
and in reasonings
"High
Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate.”
The dress of the Vallombrosan monks
was gray, or ash-color, but in later years
they adopted a black hat and cloak. They
were unwearied in manual labor: from 1750
to 1753, 40,300 beech-trees were planted by
them, and the magnificent pine forests which
surround the convent are also in great part
the work of their hands. Their prosperity
was undiminished down to the time of the
French Revolution, but from this devastat-
ing storm they suffered severely. It is said
to have been debated in council, when Napo-
leon himself was present, whether in the
general suppression of the monasteries an
exception should not be made in favor of
Vallombrosa, on account of the usefulness of
the monks in keeping this solitude free from
wild beasts and open to travel by their con-
stant habitation. The debate was prolonged,
and at last one of the council, losing pa-
tience, cried out, "Signori! o monaci, o
298
AT HOME IN ITALY.
lupi?" (Gentlemen, shall we have monks
or wolves?) "Lupi!" was the general re-
sponse, and the monastery shared the com-
mon fate.
After these troublous times were over,
the Vallombrosans again sought their des-
olated abode, and inhabited it until the dis-
establishment of the monasteries by Victor
Emanuel in 1860. Since 1869 it has been
used as an agricultural school, for which its
surroundings are certainly favorable. There
is a corps of nine resident professors, and
lectures are also given by some of the most
eminent scientists of Florence. Besides the
strictly agricultural branches, the course of
study (which is of three years' duration) in-
cludes the modern languages and drawing.
The winters are so severe in those high re-
gions that from November 15th to March
1st there is vacation, such of the pupils as
wish to continue their studies without in-
terruption being transferred to Paterno, the
monastery farm at Tosi.
At the time of our visit only one monk
and a young abate remained at Vallombrosa.
They attended to the religious services of
the school and neighborhood, and were also
employed by government to manage a small
VALLOMBROSA.
299
1
but very complete meteorological observa-
tory, as Vallombrosa is one of the "weather
stations" of Italy. Observations are taken
twice in the twenty-four hours. It was well
enough, the young abate said, in summer,
but in winter it was no joke to wade through
the deep snows to the observatory and han-
dle the instruments.
Such was Vallombrosa when I first vis-
ited it. Five years later, in 1882, I was
there again, and found many changes in the
quiet valley. A broad, smooth carriage-
road from Tosi to the very door of the con-
vent had taken the place of the steep and
stony mule-path, and the miserable hamlets
on the mountain-side were fast growing into
thriving villages, thanks to this new means
of communication with the world below.
The traveler, leaning back at ease in his
carriage, was at leisure to enjoy the charm-
ing views which every turn of the zigzag
road revealed. It was the beginning of
May, and the fruit trees, which in the lower
Arno valley had already shed their blos-
soms, were here in full bloom. The banks
were purple with crocuses, and the fields of
sprouting grain gave an intense green to the
fields which in Italy is seen only at this
300
AT HOME IN ITALY.
PU
""
season, for Italian grass is never vivid in its
color, and is soon parched by the summer
sun. When we emerged from the forest, it
seemed strange to see painted boldly across
the humble forestieria building of other days
the sign," Albergo della Croce di Savoia.'
This building had grown outward and up-
ward, and its interior was even more changed
than the outside. We were introduced into
rooms comfortably furnished with carpets,
sofas, easy-chairs, and spring beds; and the
most welcome change was from filthiness to
perfect cleanliness and order. We sat down
to a repast which would have done credit to
a city hotel.
Thus, if something of the primitive charm
of Vallombrosa is gone forever, it is in re-
turn made accessible to hundreds who could
not reach it by the rough conveyances for-
merly necessary. And nothing can render
less the charm of those deep forests, or that
wonderful panorama of mountain and val-
ley, or the sparkling freshness of the pine-
scented air.
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SEP 12 1918
:

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Poems of Home and Travel. By BAYARD TAYLOR.
16m0, $1.25.
Poems of Places. Edited by H. W. LONGFEllow.
"Little Classic" style. 18mo. Each volume, $1.00; the set, thirty-
one volumes in box, $25.00; half calf, $75.00.
The following volumes of this series are not included elsewhere
under the headings of separate countries:- -VIII. Denmark, Ice-
land, Norway, and Sweden. XV. Belgium, Holland. XVI Swit-
zerland, Austria. XX. Russia, Asiatic Russia. XXI.-XXIII.
Asia. XXX. Mexico and South America. XXXI. Oceanica.
A Poet's Bazaar. By HANS CHRISTIAN Andersen.
A Tour in Germany, Italy, Greece, and the Orient. 12m0, $1.50.
Reminiscences of European Travel. By ANDREW
P. PEABODY. 16mo, $1.50.
Roadside Poems for Summer Travelers. Selected
by LUCY LARCOM. "Little Classic" style. 18mo, $1.00.
A Roundabout Journey. By CHARLES DUDLEY`
12m0, $1.50.
WARNER.
A Russian Journey. By EDNA Dean PROCTOR. Il-
lustrated. 12m0, $2.00.
A Satchel Guide for Vacation Tourists in Europe.
New Edition, revised, with additions. A compact Itinerary of the
British Isles, Belgium and Holland, Germany and the Rhine, Swit-
zerland, France, Austria, and Italy. With Maps, Tables of the
Comparative Values of United States and European Moneys, a
Traveler's Calendar of Ecclesiastical and Popular Festivals, Fairs,
etc., and a list of the most Famous Pictures in the Public Galleries
and Churches of Europe. 16mo, roan, flexible, $2.00.
Saunterings. By CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. Eu-
ropean Travel Sketches. "Little Classic" style. 18mo, $1.25.
Sights and Insights. By MRS. A. D. T. Whitney.
A Story of European Travel. 2 vols. 12mo, $3.00.
To Cuba and Back: A Vacation Voyage.
RICHARD H. DANA, JR. 16m0, $1.25.
Transatlantic Sketches. By HENRY JAMES. 12mo,
$2.00.
By
Ups and Downs on Land and Water. By AUGUSTUS
HOPPIN. Travel Pictures. Small folio. $5.00.
The Voyage of the Jeannette. The Ship and Ice
Journals of Lieutenant-Commander DE LONG, U. S. N. Edited
by his wife, EMMA DE LONG. With a steel Portrait, Maps, many
Illustrations, and facsimile. In two volumes, 8vo. The set, $7.50;
sheep, $10.00; half morocco, $12.00; full morocco, $16.00.
***For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price
by the Publishers,
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY,
BOSTON, MASS.
A catalogue containing portraits of many of the
above authors, with a description of their works, will
be sent free, on application, to any address.

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